Of them whose fall the world doth understand;
Which for feare made my heart to faynt:
I must wright playn; colours have I none to paynt;
But termes rude their dolours to compile;
An wofull playnt must have an wofull style.
To whome therefore for helpe shall I nowe call?
Alas! Caliope my calling will utterly refuse;
For mornyng dities and woo of Fortune’s falle
Caliope dyd never in hir dyties use;
Wherefore to hir I might my self abuse: