Of which that thou a perfect Mirrour haue, The wronged ghost of that deposed king, Carnaruan’s _Edward_, hath forgone his graue, Who does with him such dolefull tidings bring, That yet thy muse the like did neuer sing: Those sad mishaps which she before did show, Compar’d to mine are counterfeits of woe. 4. To strengthen her complaint before she sing, And drowne her grieued thoughts in depth of woe: (Yee murdred ghosts, that vnder night’s black wing, In vncouth paths doe wander to and fro, And oft in sighfull groanes your griefe do show) Haste vnto vs, and hauing heard our wrong, Help with your shrieks to make a mourneful song. 5. The quill of some sad turtle’s wing applie That mourn’d so long, till griefe did strike her dead: Blood be thy incke, which when it waxeth drie, Moisten with teares: and when all thine are shed, From euery eye, that haps these lines to reade, Let euery verse compos’d, such sad sound beare, That for each word it may enforce a teare. 6. (Sorrow, distresse, and all that can be found Which once did helpe me waile my woefull smart, When fatall _Berckly’s_ buildings did resound The echoing complaints of my poore hart) Grant your accesse, and helpe to beare a part, That our sad muse more ruthfully may sing, The storie of a dead deposed king. 7. I tell of honie-soothing parasites, Of stubborne peeres, who louing sterne debate, Did boldly braue me in two bloodie fights, Of a proud prelate’s plots, of people’s hate, Of the sad ruine of a royall state: And of a queene betrai’d to fond desire Who too too cruell did my death conspire. 8. To the first _Edward_, since the Norman’s name Grew famous for their crown’d grac’d victorie, The fourth of six of his faire sonnes I am, Mongst whom I was ordain’d by destinie, To sway the scepter of this emperie: Before my kingly father left to liue, The first three borne to death his due did giue. 9. I did suruiue, the yongest of the foure, And did succeed my sire in royall chaire: But did not treade the path which he before Had with his vertuous foot-steps beaten faire: Birth binds not vertue to succeed in th’heire, Else why did I of such illustrate race, Obscure his vertuous deeds with my disgrace? 10.