Vr.
Tell me, good Skell, from mirth to mourning cheer
What so hath chang'd thee, or what moves thy mind?
Hath any troubled late thy Waters cleer?
Or doth thy lovely Nymph now prove unkinde?

Sk.
Nor this, nor that: far greater Grief I knowe,
Which on my wofull Heart doth heavie lie.
Hast thou not heard the cause of common Woe;
The Funerall of famous Mallory?

Vr.
Is Mallory dead? O cruell Fates decree!
Could his great Worth obtaine then no Relief?
O Irow lawes of still-stern Destiny,
Ne'r satisfied with humane Woe and Grief!

Sk.
At his death, Nymphs in liquid Bowrs did weep;
And, shrieking out, did rent their greenish hair:
At his death, Wayling did all places keep:
Both Heaven, and Earth their mourning weeds did wear.

Vr.
Was this the cause wisen sweet sleep clos'd mine eyes
In my moss-matted roome, whiles Nymphs did sing,
That Storm-wingd Boreas, and the thundring Skies,
Me from my bed so suddenly did bring?

Sk.
Since both of Vs then Partners are in woe,
And neither from disastrous Chance are free,
Lets ioyne our streams, and both together goe:
So, that, which two-fold was, one Grief will be.

Vr.
Content: but, thus; that both together we
Doe run t'our Father Oceans larger coast:
Hee'l us imbrace in's glassie Hall; and he,
To ease our Grief, will play the gentle Hoast.

Sk.
May any thing more ioyfull me betide,
Than him to see that rules ith' watry Field?
Hee'l us receiue; and t'us, with weeping dry'd,
He for fresh tears salt waters still will yeeld.