Of the same. +
W Hat man hath heard such cruelty before? That, when my plaint remembred her my wo, That caused it: she cruell more and more, Wished eche stitche, as she did sit and sow, (5) Had prickt my hart, for to encrease my sore, And, as I think, she thought it had been so. For as she thought, this is his hart in dede: She pricked hard: and made her self to blede.
Request to Cupide for re-
uenge of his vnkinde
B Ehold, Loue, thy power how she despiseth: My greuous pain how litle she regardeth, The solemne othe, wherof she takes no cure, Broken she hath: and yet, she bydeth sure, (5) Right at her ease, and litle thee she dredeth. Weaponed thou art, and she vnarmed sitteth: To thee disdainfull, all her life she leadeth: To me spitefull, without iust cause, or measure. Behold Loue, how proudly she triumpheth, (10) I am in hold, but if thee pitie meueth: Go, bend thy bow, that stony hartes breaketh: And with some stroke reuenge the great displeasureOf thee, and him that sorow doth endure, And as his Lord thee lowly here entreateth.