When first I saw her, that now makes me sigh,
Distrust did never enter in my thoughts.
So many vertues clearly shin'd in her,
That I esteem'd all martyrdome was light
Which Love could lay on me. Nor did I greeve,
Although I found my liberty was lost.
But now mine error I do plainly see:
Not without sorrow, thus betray'd to bee.
My teares do, &c.
For, being left by basest treachery
Of her in whom I most reposed trust:
I then could see apparant flatterie
In all the fairest shewes that she did make.
But when I strove to get forth of the snare,
I found myselfe the further plunged in.
For I beheld another in my place,
And I cast off, with manifest disgrace.
My teares do, &c.
Then felt my heart such hels of heavy woes,
Not utterable. I curst the day and houre
When first I saw her lovely countenance,
Enricht with beautie, farre beyond all other,
Which set my soule on fire, enflamde each part,
Making a martyrdome of my poore hart.
My faith and hope being basely thus betrayde;
I durst not moove, to speake I was affrayde.
My teares do, &c.
Thou canst (thou powerfull God of Love) perceive,
My ceasselesse sorrow, voide of any comfort,
I make my moane to thee, and do not fable,
Desiring, that to end my misery,
Death may come speedily, and with his Dart
With one fierce stroke, quite passing through my hart:
To cut off future fell contending strife,
An happy end be made of Love and Life.
My teares do, &c.
No other meanes of comfort doth remaine,
To ease me of such sharpe afflictions,
But only death. Grant then that I may die,
To finish greefe and life in one blest houre.
For, being bereft of any future joyes,
Come, take me quickly from so false a friend.
Yet in my death, let thy great power approve,
That I died true, and constant in my Love.
My teares, &c.
Happy shall I account this sighing Song,
If some (beside my selfe) doe learne to sing it,
And so consider of my miseries,
As may incite them to lament my wrongs.
And to be warned by my wretched fate;
Least (like my selfe) themselves do sigh too late.
Learne Lovers learne, what tis to be unjust,
And be betrayed where you repose best trust.
Finis
The words contained in this Song, did manifestly declare, what torturing afflictions poore Philostratus felt, and more (perhaps) had beene perceived by the lookes of the Lady whom he spake of, being then present in the dance; if the sodaine ensuing darknesse had not hid the crimson blush, which mounted up into her face. But the Song being ended, & divers other beside, lasting till the houre of rest drew on; by command of the Queene, they all repaired to their Chambers.