For Lucy Countess of Bedford
Die not before thy day poor man condemned
But lift thy low looks from the humble earth
kiss not despair and see sweet hope condemned
The hag hath no delight but moan for mirth
O fie poor fondling O fie poor fondling
fie be willing to preserve thyself from killing
Hope thy keeper glad to free thee
Bids thee go and will not see thee
hie thee quickly from thy wrong
so she ends her willing song.