What could she do but make great mone and dole.
So darke the dungeon was, wherein she was,
That neither Sunne (by day) nor Mone (by night)
Did shew themselues: and thus it came to passe.
The Sunne denide to lend his glorious light
To such a periur'd wight, or to be scene;
(What neede she light, that ouer-light had bin?)
Now silent night drew on; when all things sleepe,
Saue theeves, and cares; and now stil mid-night came:
When sad Cassandra did naught els but weepe;