The litle babe, to take thereof a sight.
Whom whylest she did with watrie eyne behold,
Vpon the litle brest like christall bright,
She mote perceiue a litle purple mold,
That like a rose her silken leaues did faire vnfold.
Well she it markt, and pittied the more, viii
Yet could not remedie her wretched case,
But closing it againe like as before,
Bedeaw’d with teares there left it in the place:
Yet left not quite, but drew a litle space