33. His good name beyng blemished, he bewayleth.
FRam'd in the front of forlorne hope, past all recouerie,
I stailes stand tabide, the shocke of shame and infamie:
My life through lingring long is lodg'd, in lare of lothsome wayes,
My death delayed to keepe from life, the harme of haplesse dayes:
My sprites, my hart, my witte and force, in deepe distresse are dround,
The onely losse of my good name, is of these griefes the ground.
And since my mynde, my wit, my head, my voyce, and toung are weake,
To vtter, moue, deuise, conceiue, sound forth, declare, and speake:
Such pearsing plaintes, as aunswere might, or would my wofull case,
Helpe craue I must, and craue I will, with teares vpon my face:
Of all that may in heauen or hell, in earth or ayre be found,
To waile with me the losse of myne, as of these griefes the ground.
Helpe Gods, helpe saints, helpe sprites & powers, that in the heauen do dwel,
Helpe ye that are aye wont to waile, ye howling houndes of hell:
Helpe man, helpe beastes, helpe birdes & wormes, that on the earth doth toyle,
Helpe fish, helpe foule, that flockes and feedes vpon the salt sea soyle:
Helpe Eccho that in the ayre doth flee, shrill voyces to resound,
To waile this losse of my good name, as of these griefes the ground.
FINIS.
E. O.