Thereto compelled through hart-murdring paine,
But dread of shame my doubtfull lips doth still restraine.
Ah my deare dread (said then the faithfull Mayd) xxxi
Can dread of ought your dreadlesse hart withhold,
That many hath with dread of death dismayd,
And dare euen deathes most dreadfull face behold?
Say on my souerayne Ladie, and be bold;
Doth not your handmayds life at your foot lie?
Therewith much comforted, she gan vnfold
The cause of her conceiued maladie,