Take pittie, on a captiue thrise hath beene,
Let pittie pearce the rage of all thine ire.
But if thy breast burne with reuenging fire,
Then let my death quench out that fuming flame,
Sith of thy husband’s bloud and hers I came.”
19.
Much more I sayd while teares out streaming went,
But nought of ease at all thereby I gayn’d.
My mother eke, did, as shee lay, lament,
Wherewith my heart a thousand fold shee payn’d.