¶A verse or two written Extempore, vppon a sighe of a Gentlewoman.
I Sigh to sée thée sigh, the iust occasion why,
God knowes, and I perhappes can gesse vnhappily.
But whatsoeuer I thinke, I meane to let it passe,
And thus in secrete sorte, to thinke vnto my selfe (alas)
Poore little seely soule, God quickly comforte thée,
Who could his sighes refrayne, a Dame in such sad sorte to see:
The cause whereof I gesse, but not the remedy:
I would I could a medicine frame, to cure thy mallady.
For if it were in mée, or if it 〈◊〉〈◊〉 bée,
To doe the thing oh noble Dame, in déede to comforte thée,
My hart, my hand, my sword, my purse, which (though) but smal
At your commaund I offer here, all ready at your call.
Of which if any shrinke, when you vouchsafe to trye,
As I deserue, disdayne me then, and God then let me dye.
And thus from honest harte, as one your faythfull friend,
In few vnfayned friendly wordes, farewell: and so an ende.
Finis.