A Countesse that in loves mishap doth equall
At all parts your wrong'd selfe, and is the mistresse
Of your slaine servants brother; in whose love,25
For his late treachrous apprehension,
She wept her faire eyes from her ivory browes,
And would have wept her soule out, had not I
Promist to bring her to this mortall quarrie,
That by her lost eyes for her servants love30
She might conjure him from this sterne attempt,
In which (by a most ominous dreame shee had)