ABSTRACT
3 In last despaire: Ah is not this the daie That death should me of life and love bereave? What waite I for that have no refuge left, But am sole remnant of my fortune left? All leave me, flie me: none, noe not of them 870 Which of my greatnes greatest good receiv'd, Stands with my faB: they seeme as now asham'd That heretofore they did me ought regard: They draw them backe, shewing they folow'd me, Not to partake my harms, but coozen me.
