And twixt them both was borne the bloudy bold Sans loy.
In this sad plight, friendlesse, vnfortunate, xxvi
Now miserable I Fidessa dwell,
Crauing of you in pitty of my state,
To do none ill, if please ye not do well.
He in great passion all this while did dwell,
More busying his quicke eyes, her face to view,
Then his dull eares, to heare what she did tell;
And said, Faire[96] Lady hart of flint would rew
The vndeserued woes and sorrowes, which ye shew.