Epigram 37 (Svch was my griefe vpon my fatall fall,)

Svch was my griefe vpon my fatall fall,
That all the world me thought was darke withall
And yet I was deceiued as I knowe.
For when I proou'de I found it nothing so
I shewde the Sunn my lamentable sore.
The Sunne did see and shined as before.
Then to the Moone did I reueale my plight.
She did deminish nothing of her light.
Then to the stars I went and lett them see,
No not a starre would shine the lesse for me.
Go wretched man, thou seest thou art forlorne.
Thou seest the heauēs laugh while thou dost mourn.