Alone musing, Remembering The woeful life that I do lead, Then sore sighing, I lie crying As one for pain near dead. The unkindness Of my mistress In great distress hath me brought. Yet disdaineth she To take pity And setteth my heart right naught. Who would have thought She would have wrought Such sorrow unto my heart, Seeing that I Endeavoured me From her never to depart? |