And with iealousie I rise, When the day begins to peepe.
At his Table I doe eate, In his bed with him I lie: (35) But I take no rest, nor meate, Without cruell iealousie.
If I aske him what he ayles, And whereof he iealous is? In his answere then he failes, (40) Nothing can he say to this.
In his face there is no cheere, But he euer hangs the head: In each corner he doth peere, And his speech is sad and dead.
Bar. Yong. FINIS.