Xlix

Well hoped I, and faire beginnings had, That he my captive languor° should redeeme, Till all unweeting, an Enchaunter bad His sence abusd, and made him to misdeeme My loyalty,° not such as it did seeme; That rather death desire, then such despight. Be judge ye heavens, that all things right esteeme, How I him lov'd, and love with all my might, So thought I eke of him, and thinke I thought aright.