39.
Then cause thy muse with me to mourne her fill,
And all yee nightlie birds, that do appeare,
As gastly signes, shrieke out your deadlie ill,
Let all that wofull is and voide of cheere,
That may augment my dole, to me draw neere,
And helpe me with their vncouth companie
To tune the song of my sad tragedie.
40.
Despoil’d by foes of all my princelie state,