Ii

And now it is empassioned so deepe, For fairest Unaes sake, of whom I sing, That my fraile eyes these lines with teares do steepe, To thinke how she through guilefull handeling, Though true as touch,° though daughter of a king, Though faire as ever living wight was faire, Though nor in word nor deede ill meriting, Is from her knight divorced in despaire, And her due loves° deriv'd to that vile witches share.