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 Then be it ſo (quoth I) that thou art bent To die alone, vnpitied, vnplained, Yet ere thou die, it were conuenient To tell the cauſe, which thee theretoo conſtrained: Leaſt that the world thee dead accuſe of guilt, And ſay, when thou of none ſhalt be maintained, That thou for ſecret crime thy blood haſt ſpilt.

Who life dooes loath, and longs to bee vnbound From the ſtrong ſhackles of fraile fleſh (quoth he) Nought cares at all, what they that liue on ground Deeme the occaſion of his death to bee: Rather deſires to be forgotten quight, Than queſtion made of his calamitie, For harts deep ſorrow hater both life and light.

Yet ſince ſo much thou ſeemſt to rue my griefe, And careſt for one that for himſelfe care nought, (Signe of thy loue, though nought for my reliefe: For my reliefe exceedeth liuing thought) I will to thee this heauie caſe relate, Then harken well till it to ende bee brought, For neuer didſt thou heare nore hapleſſe fate.

Whilome I vſde (as thou right well doeſt know) My little flocke on weſterne downes to keepe. Now far from whence Sabrinaes ſtreame doth flow, And flowrie bancks with ſiluer liquor ſteepe: Nought carde I then for worldly change or chaunce, For all my ioy was on my gentle ſheepe, And to my pype to caroll and to daunce. It