University of Virginia Library

Madam,

The hopefull thriuing of my suit depends
Vpon your goodnesse, and it recommends
It selfe vnto your fauour, from whose hand
It must haue sentence, or to fall, or stand;
Thirce three times hath the Soueraigne of the night,
Repaird her empty hornes with borrowed light,
Since these sad eyes, these beauty blasted eyes
Were stricken by a light, that did arise
From your blest wombe, whose vnasswaged smart
Hath peirc'd my soule, and wounded my poore heart;
It is the faire Parthenia, whose diuine
And glorious vertue led these eyes of mine
To their owne ruine; Like a wanton fly,
I dallied wit the flames of her bright eye,
Till I haue burn'd my wings: O, if to loue
Be held a sinne, the guilty gods aboue
(Being fellow-sinners with vs, and commit
The selfe same crimes) may eas'ly pardon it.
O thrice diuine Parthenia, that hast got
A sacred priuiledge which the gods haue not,
If thou hast doom'd that I shall be bereauen
Of my loath'd life, yet let me dye forgiuen:
And welcome death, that with one happy blow
Giues me more ease, then life could euer doe.
Madam, to whom should my sad words appeale
But you? Alas, to whom should I reueale
My dying thoughts, but vnto you, that gaue
Being to her, that hath the power to saue
My wasted life? The language of a mother
Moues more then teares, that trickle from another.
With that a well dissembled drop did slide
From his false eyes. The Lady thus replyde.