[♦] To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans.
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet,
35 And when I start, the envious people laugh
And bid me be advised how I tread.
Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke?
Trow’st thou that e’er I’ll look upon the world,
[♦] Or count them happy that enjoy the sun?
40 No; dark shall be my light and night my day;
To think upon my pomp shall be my hell.
Sometime I’ll say, I am Duke Humphrey’s wife,