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O let the man of whom the Muse is scorned,
Nor alive nor dead, be of the Muse adorned! 455
"O vile worlds trust! that with such vaine illusion
Hath so wise men bewitcht and overkest*,
That they see not the way of their confusion:
O vainesse to be added to the rest
That do my soule with inward griefe infest! 460
Let them behold the piteous fall of mee,
And in my case their owne ensample see.
[* _Overkest_, overcast.]
"And who so els that sits in highest seate
Of this worlds glorie, worshipped of all,
Ne feareth change of time, nor fortunes threats, 465
Let him behold the horror of my fall,
And his owne end unto remembrance call;
That of like ruine he may warned bee,
And in himselfe be moov'd to pittie mee."
Thus having ended all her piteous plaint, 470
With dolefull shrikes shee vanished away,
That I, through inward sorrowe wexen faint,
And all astonished with deepe dismay
For her departure, had no word to say;
But sate long time in sencelesse sad affright, 475
Looking still, if I might of her have sight.


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