But you are more inhumaine, more inexorable,
O ten times more then Tygers of Arcadia.
190 See ruthlesse Queene a haplesse fathers teares.
This cloth thou dipts in bloud of my sweet boy,
And loe with teares I wash the bloud awaie.
Keepe thou the napkin and go boast of that,
[♦] And if thou tell the heauie storie well,
[195] Vpon my soule the hearers will sheed teares,
[♦] I, euen my foes will sheed fast falling teares,
And saie, alas, it was a pitteous deed.