I

Nought is there under heav'ns wide hollownesse, That moves more deare compassion of mind, Then beautie brought t' unworthy wretchednesse Through envies snares, or fortunes freakes unkind. I, whether lately through her brightnesse blind, Or through alleageance and fast fealtie, Which I do owe unto all woman kind, Feele my hart perst with so great agonie, When such I see, that all for pittie I could die.