Dearer then friend, or wife, haue I forgone;
Then maruell not, although I make such mone.
Faire Philomela, cease thy sad complaint;
And lend thine eares, vnto my dolefull Ditty:
(Whose soule with sorrowe, now begins to faint,
And yet I cannot moue mens hearts to pitty:)
Thy woes are light, compared vnto mine:
You waterie Nymphes, to mee your plaints resigne.
And thou Melpomene, (the Muse of Death)
That neuer sing'st, but in a dolefull straine;