“And must I needes depart from thee, my childe?
If needes I must, ten thousand times farewell.
Poore little lambe, thy friends are quite exilde,
And much I feare thou shalt not long doe well.
But if they so with boyling rancour swell
As thee to flea which neuer wroughtest ill,
How can they stay my stayned corps to kill?”
47.
With that, my Sabrine’s slender armes imbrast
Me round, and would not let me so depart.