That I may write unto my dearest Lord.
Sweet Mugeroune, tis he that hath my heart,
And Guise usurpes it, cause I am his wife:
Faine would I finde some means to speak with him
But cannot, and therfore am enforst to write,
That he may come and meet me in some place,
Where we may one injoy the others sight.
Enter the Maid with Inke and Paper.So, set it down and leave me to my selfe.
O would to God this quill that heere doth write,
She writes.Had late been plucks from out faire Cupids wing:
That it might print these lines within his heart.
