A thousand times she her embraced nere,
With many a ioyfull kisse, and many a melting teare.
Who euer is the mother of one chylde, xxi
Which hauing thought long dead, she fyndes aliue,
Let her by proofe of that, which she hath fylde
In her owne breast, this mothers ioy descriue:
For other none such passion can contriue
In perfect forme, as this good Lady felt,
When she so faire a daughter saw suruiue,
As Pastorella was, that nigh she swelt