The Nymph Diana's Song

When that I, poor soul, was born,
I was born unfortunate;
Presently the fates had sworn,
To foretell my hapless state.

Titan his fair beams did hide,
Phoebe 'clipsed her silver light;
In my birth my mother died.
Young and fair in heavy plight.

And the nurse that gave me suck,
Hapless was in all her life;
And I never had good luck.
Being maid or married wife.

I loved well, and was beloved,
And forgetting, was forgot;
This a hapless marriage moved,
Grieving that it kills me not.

With the earth would I were wed,
Than in such a grave of woes
Daily to be buri'd,
Which no end nor number knows.

Young my father married me,
Forced by my obedience;
Sirenus, thy faith and thee
I forgot without offence.

Which contempt I pay so far,
Never like was paid so much;
Jealousies do make me war.
But without a cause of such.

I do go with jealous eyes.
To my folds and to my sheep;
And with jealousy I rise.
When the day begins to peep.

At his table I do eat,
In his bed with him I lie;
But I take no rest nor meat.
Without cruel jealousy.

If I ask him what he ails,
And whereof he jealous is.
In his answer then he fails.
Nothing can he say to this.

In his face there is no cheer,
But he ever hangs the head;
In each comer he doth peer,
And his speech is sad and dead.

Ill the poor soul lives, I wis,
That so hardly married is.