No love between these two was lost,
Each was to other kinde;
In love they liv’d, in love they dyed,
And left two babes behinde:
The one a fine and pretty boy,
Not passing three yeares olde;
The other a girl more young than he,
And fram’d in beautye’s molde.
The father left his little son,
As plainlye doth appeare,
When he to perfect age should come,
Three hundred poundes a yeare.
And to his little daughter Jane
Five hundred poundes in gold,
To be paid downe on marriage-day,
Which might not be controll’d:
But if the children chanced to dye,
Ere they to age should come,
Their uncle should possesse their wealth;
For so the wille did run.
Now, Brother, said the dying man, LOOK TO MY CHILDREN DEARE.
“Now, brother,” said the dying man,
“Look to my children deare;
Be good unto my boy and girl,
No friendes else have they here: