Certaine tragicall discourses written out of Frenche and Latin, by Geffraie Fenton, no lesse profitable then pleasaunt, and of like necessitye to al degrees that take pleasure in antiquityes or forreine reapportes

The Epitaphe vpon the tombe of Pe∣rillo and Carmosyna.

FRom cloddye Couche rise vpp consumed corse You captiue knightes, vvhom Cupide sterude vvith care, And louers ye that lyue, comme take remorce On tvvo, that founde suche death as happs but rare See here the sheete that shroudes such faithfull tvvayne As selde are founde, to serue in loyall trayne.

Fovvre vvinters long I ranne a carefull race, Wherin I founde the frutes of Crabbed fate, Ne colde I gett the graunte of fortunes grace But pinched still vvith panges of misers state I felt the force of euery mortall blaste, There vvas no yll vvherof I did not taste.

My folly forcde a fall of all I hadd And frendes forsoke me in my greatest need My rentes retird vvith route of roisters trade And fancy fedd me vvith the foode of euill spede I soughte to sovve the seedes of stayed lyfe vvhen lo I cropt the frutes of greater stryfe.

And though the Seas did spite my good intent Yet did they spare to spill me in their sandes, But adding force to that, vvhich long my fates haue men•• My goodes and I, fell in the Pirottes handes, VVher I in person pinchd vvith euery pang of care, My pennance paide, vvith many a hongry share.

Ne vvas my loue deuoide of lyke annoye Syth she vvith equall grieff paid tribute to my paine, She vveard her youth in dule in steade of ioye The vievve of my mishapps bredd vvo in euery vayne Her pleasant tyme passd in continuall teares VVhose sooddes aye bathd her greene and mayden yeres.

But oh geue eare, vvhen vve by happy lott Did deame to fynde the ende of all distresse And as in bedd, vve hopte to chaunge the note Of former paine to perfect ioyfulnes, Behold alas the flagg of fatall vvrathe. Orespred vs both vvith panges of present death

Oh heauy happ, ô peruersd destenie, Oh lyues ay framd in mould of vvretchednes And borne to vveare the vvreath of miserie, From all that earst haue felt distresse, He is most cursd vvose state is so opprest That in his lyfe fyndes no one daye of rest.

Resigne your tearmes, and tunes of auncient vvoo, VVho earst haue vvept in teares of equall greeff No tvvo on lyue, nor all that slepe belovve More loyall vveare, aye vvantinge still relieff Then vve, vvhose pictures here are placd in depe And shrovvded both vvithin the fatall sheete.