[sig. Kiir]
Remember Heauen, forget not Hell, and way thyne owne estate, Reuoke to minde whom thou hast left, in shamefull blame & hate: (35) Yea minde her well who did submit, into thine onely powre, Both hart and life, and therwithall, a ritch and wealthy dowre: And last of all which greeues mee most, that I was so begylde, Remember most forgetfull man, thy pretty tatling childe: The least of these surnamed things, I hope may well suffise, (40) To shew to thee the wretched Dame, that did this bill deuise. I speake in vayne, thou hast thy will, and now sayth Aesons sonne, +Medea may packe vp her pypes, the golden Fleese is wonne: If so, be sure Medea I will, shew forth my selfe in deede, Yet gods defend though death I taste, I should distroy thy seede: (45) Agayne, if that I should enquire, wherfore thou doost soiurne, No answere fitly mayst thou make, I know to serue thy turne: Thou canst not say but that I haue, obseru’d my loue to thee, Thou canst not say, but that I haue, of life vnchast bin free. Thou canst not cloak (through want) thy flight, since riches did a||(bound (50) Thou needes not shame of mee thy spouse, whose byrth not low is |(found, As for my beauty, thou thy self, earwhile didst it commend And to conclude I know no thing, wherin I dyd offend: Retier with speed, I long to see, thy barke in wished bay, The Seas are calmer to returne, then earst to fly away. (55) Beholde the gentill windes doo serue, so that a frendly gayle, Would soone conuay to happy Porte, thy most desired sayle: Return would make amends for all, and bannish former wronge, Oh that I had for to entice, a Scyrens flattering songe. But out alas, I haue no shift, or cunning to entreat, (60) It may suffise for absence thine, that I my grieefes repeate Demaund not how I did disgest, at first thy sodayne flight, For ten dayes space I tooke no rest, by day nor yet by night: But like to Baccus beldame Nonne, + I sent and rangde apace, To see if that I mought thee finde, in some frequented place: (65) Now here, now there, now vp, now down, my fancy so was fed, Untill at length I knew of troth, that thou from mee wert fled. Then was I fully bent with blade, to stab my vexed harte, Yet hope that thou wouldst come agayn, my purpose did conuart: