University of Virginia Library


133

[When that I poore soule was borne]

When that I poore soule was borne,
I was borne vnfortunate:
Presently the Fates had sworne
To foretell my haplesse state.
Titan his faire beames did hide,
Phœbe 'clips'd her siluer light,
In my birth my mother dide,
Yong, and faire in heauie plight.
And the nurse, that gaue me sucke,
Haplesse was in all her life:
And I neuer had good lucke
Being maide or married wife.
I lou'd well, and was belou'd,
And forgetting, was forgot:
This a haplesse marriage mou'd,
Greeuing that it kils me not.
With the earth would I were wed,
Then in such a graue of woes
Daily to be buried,
Which no end nor number knowes.
Yong my father married me,
Forc't by my obedience:
Syrenus, thy faith, and thee
I forgot, without offence.
Which contempt I pay so far,
Neuer like was paide so much:
Iealousies doe make me war,
But without a cause of such.
I doe goe with iealous eies
To my foldes, and to my sheepe,
And with iealousie I rise,
When the day begins to peepe.
At his table I doe eate,
In his bed with him I lie,
But I take no rest, nor meate,
Without cruell iealousie.
If I aske him what he ailes,
And whereof he iealous is?
In his answere then he failes:
Nothing can he say to this.
In his face there is no cheere,
But he euer hangs the head:
In each corner he doth peere,
And his speech is sad and dead.
Ill the poore soule liues ywisse,
That so hardly married his.