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- # A Louers complaint.
## BY
**WILLIAM SHAKE-SPEARE.**
From off a hill whose concave wombe reworded,
A plaintiff story from a fittering vale
My spirits t'attend this doble voyce accorded,
And downe I laid to lift the sad tun'd tale,
Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale
Tearing of papers breaking rings a twaine,
Storming her world with forrowes, wind and rains.
Vpon her head a plattid hine of straw,
Which fortified her visage from the Sunne,
Whereon the thought might thinke sometime it saw
The caskas of a beauty spent and donne,
Time had not fished all that youth begun,
Nor youth all quit, but spight of heauens fell rage,
Some beauty peept, through lettuce of sear'd age.
Oft did she heaue her Napkin to her eyne,
Which on it had conceited characters:
Laundring the fifken figures in the brine,
That seasoned woe had pelleted in teares,
And often reading what contents it bears:
As often thinking vndiffinquifht wo,
In clamours of all fixe both high and low.
Some-times her leueld eyes their carriage ride,
As they did battery to the spheres intend:
Sometime diverted their poore balls are tide,
To th'orbed earth; sometimes they do extend,
Their view right on, anon their gales lend,
To
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