[sig. Fir]
From whence thou shot those louing lookes Which bred my whole decay. (45) O blessed place I cry Though woorker of my payne, Render I craue most hartely To mee my loue agayne. +
Not wofull Monsier dom Dieg (50) Or Priams noble sonne, +Constrayned by loue did euer mone As I for thee haue donne. +Sir Romeus annoy But trifle seemes to mine, (55) Whose hap in winning of his loue Did clue of cares vntwine. +My sorrowes haue no ende My hap no ioy can spie, The flowing Fountayne of my teares (60) Beginneth to waxe drie.
Let pitty then requyte my payne +O woorker of my woe, Let mercy milde possesse thy harte Which art my freendly foe. (65) Receiue the hart which heare I yeeld into her hand, Which made by force a breach in Fort +Which I could not withstande. Thou hast in Ballance paysd(70) My life and eke my death, +Thy loyalty contaynes my ioy Disdayne will stop my breath.