Where is my myrth, my solace, and my play?
As vanity to nought all[1228] is wythered away:
O lady Bes long for mee may you call,
For I am departed vntill dome’s day:
But loue you that lord that is soueraine of all:
Where bee my castles and buildings royall?
But Windsore alone now haue I no moe,
And of Eton the prayers perpetuall,
Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
6.