THE SONG

        Chorus. My teares do plainly prove,

  How justly that poore heart hath cause to greeve

  Which (under trust) findes Treason in his Love.

  When first I saw her, that now makes me sigh,

  Distrust did never enter in my thoughts.

  So many vertues clearly shin'd in her,

  That I esteem'd all martyrdome was light

  Which Love could lay on me. Nor did I greeve,

  Although I found my liberty was lost.

  But now mine error I do plainly see:

  Not without sorrow, thus betray'd to bee.

        My teares do, etc.

  For, being left by basest treachery

  Of her in whom I most reposed trust:

  I then could see apparant flatterie

  In all the fairest shewes that she did make.

  But when I strove to get forth of the snare,

  I found my selfe the further plunged in.

  For I beheld another in my place,

  And I cast off, with manifest disgrace.

        My, etc.

  Then felt my heart such hels of heavy woes,

  Not utterable. I curst the day and houre

  When first I saw her lovely countenance,

  Enricht with beautie, farre beyond all other:

  Which set my soule on fire, enflamde each part,

  Making a martyrdome of my poore hart.

  My faith and hope being basely thus betrayde;

  I durst not moove, to speake I was affrayde.

        My teares do, etc.

  Thou canst (thou powerfull God of Love) perceive,

  My ceasselesse sorrow, voyde of any comfort:

  I make my moane to thee, and do not fable,

  Desiring, that to end my misery,

  Death may come speedily, and with his Dart

  With one fierce stroke, quite passing through my heart:

  To cut off future fell contending strife,

  An happy end be made of Love and Life.

        My teares do, etc.

  No other meanes of comfort doth remaine,

  To ease me of such sharpe afflictions,

  But onely death. Grant then that I may die,

  To finish greefe and life in one blest houre.

  For, being bereft of any future joyes,

  Come, take me quickly from so false a friend.

  Yet in my death, let thy great power approve,

  That I died true, and constant in my Love.

        My teares do, etc.

  Happy shall I account this sighing Song,

  If some (beside my selfe) do learne to sing it,

  And so consider of my miseries,

  As may incite them to lament my wrongs.

  And to be warned by my wretched fate;

  Least (like my selfe) themselves do sigh too late.

  Learne Lovers, learne, what tis to be unjust,

  And be betrayed, where you repose best trust.

  The words contained in this Song, did manifestly declare, what

torturing afflictions poore Philostratus felt, and more (perhaps)

had beene perceived by the lookes of the Lady whom he spake of,

being then present in the dance; if the sodaine ensuing darknesse

had not hid the crimson blush, which mounted up into her face. But the

Song being ended, and divers other beside, lasting till the houre of

rest drew on; by command of the Queene, they all repaired to their

Chambers.