That bought her youth and her delights full deare,
Whose Iowde reproch doth sound vnto the skies:
And bids my corse out of the graue to ryse,
As one that may no longer hyde her face,
But needes must come and shew her piteous case.
7.
The sheete of shame, wherein I shrowded was,
Did moue mee oft to playne before this daye,
And in myne eares did ring the trompe of brasse,
Which is defame, that doth each thing[1971] bewraye: