University of Virginia Library

A Ladies complaint for the losse of her Loue.

Come follow me you Nymphes,
Whose eyes are neuer drie,
Augment your wayling number nowe
With me poore Emelie.
Giue place ye to my plaintes,
Whose ioyes are pincht with paine:
My loue, alas through foule mishap,
Most cruell death hath slaine.
What wight can wel, alas,
my sorrowes now indite?
I waile & want my new desire
I lack my new delite.
Gush out my trickling teares
Like mighty floods of raine
My Knight alas, through foule mishap
Most cruell death hath slaine.
Oh hap alas most hard,
Oh death why didst thou so?
Why could not I embrace my ioy,
for me that bid such woe?
False Fortune out, alas,
Woe worth thy subtill traine,
Whereby my loue through foule mishap,
Most cruell death hath slaine.
Rock me a sleepe in woe,
You wofull Sisters three
Oh cut you off my fatall threed,
Dispatch poore Emelie.
Why should I liue, alas,
And linger thus in paine?
Farewell my life, sith that my loue
Most cruell death hath slaine.
Finis.