That musing on this worldly wealth in thought, Which coms, and goes, more faster than wee see The flickring flame that with the fyre is wrought, My busie mynde presented vnto mee Such fall of peeres as in the[1497] realme had bee: That oft I wisht some would their woes descryue, To warne the rest whome fortune left a liue. 11. And strait forth stalking with redoubled pace, For that I sawe the night drew on so fast, In blacke all clad there fell before my face A piteous wight, whom woe had all forewast, Forth on her eyes[1498] the cristall tears out brast, And sighing sore her hands shee wrong and folde, Tare all her hayre, that ruth was to beholde. 12. Her body smale, forwithred, and forspent, As is the stalke that sommer’s drought opprest, Her wealked face with woefull teares bee sprent, Her colour pale, and,[1499] as it seemed her best, In woe and plaint reposed was her rest: And, as the stone that drops of water weares, So dented were her chekes with fall of teares, 13. Her eyes swollen[1500] with flowing streams aflote, Where, with her lookes throwne vp full piteously, Her forcelesse hands together oft shee smote, With dolefull shrikes, that eckoed in the skye: Whose plaint such sighes did strait accompany, That, in my doome, was neuer man did see A wight but halfe so woe begone as shee. 14. I stoode agast, beholding all her plight, Tweene dread and dolour, so distreinde in hart, That, while my hayres vpstarted with the sight, The teares out streamde for sorow of her smart: But, when I sawe no end that could appart[1501] The deadly dewle which shee soe sore did make, With dolefull voice then thus to her I spake: 15. “Unwrap thy woes, what euer wight thou bee, And stint in tyme[1502] to spill thy self with playnt, Tell what thou art, and whence, for well I see Thou canst not dure, with sorrow thus attaynt:” And, with that word of sorrow, all forfaynt Shee looked vp, and, prostrate, as shee lay, With piteous sound, lo, thus shee gan to say: 16. “Alas, I wretch, whom thus thou seest distraynde With wasting woes, that neuer shall aslake, _Sorrow_ I am, in endlesse torments paynde Among the furies in th’infernall[1503] lake, Where _Pluto_ god of hell so griesly blacke Doth holde his throne, and _Lætheus_[1504] deadly tast Doth rieue remembraunce of ech thing forepast. 17.