“Then God,” quoth I, “haue mercie on my soule,
For of this wretched world no man am I,
Seeing nothing may this venom’s force controule:
For sensiblie I feele how it doth lie
Vpon my woefull heart, and I must die:
Wherefore my sonne fetch hither vnto mee,
That I before I die his face may see.”
93.
The child being brought, for then he was a child,
To him I thus did speake with weeping eie: