V.
[Harke harke wot yee what nay faith and shall]
1
Harke harke wot yee what nay faith and shall
I tell I am afraide to die a maid and then lead Apes in hell
O it makes me sigh & sob with inward griefe,
But if I can but get a man a man hele yeeld me some reliefe some reliefe.
2
O it is strange how nature works with me,
My body is spent and I lament mine owne great folly,
O it makes me sigh and powre forth flouds of teares,
Alas poore elfe none but thy selfe would liue, hauing such cares
3
O now I see that fortune frownes on me
By this good light I haue beene ripe,
O it makes me sigh and sure it will me kill,
When I should sleepe I lie and weepe, feeding on sorrowes still.
4
I must confesse as maides haue vertue store,
Liue honest still against our wils, more fooles we are therfore:
O it makes me sigh, yet hope doth still me good,
For if I can but get a man, with him ile spend my blood.