And did the rest with grieuous sighes suppresse,
While teares stood in his eies, few drops of bitternesse.
What Ladie, man? (said Trompart) take good hart, xxvi
And tell thy griefe, if any hidden lye;
Was neuer better time to shew thy smart,
Then now, that noble succour is thee by,
That is the whole worlds commune remedy.
That cheareful word his weake hart much did cheare,
And with vaine hope his spirits faint supply,
That bold he said; O most redoubted Pere,