When Twoo Sunnes doo appeare,
Some say yt dothe betoken wonders nere,
As Princes Losse or Chaunge:
Twoo gleaming Sunnes of splendor like I see
And seeyng, feele in mee
Of Princes hart quite lost, the Ruyn straunge.
Butt nowe eche where dothe Raunge,
With ougly Cloake the Darck envyous Nighte,
Who full of guilty Spyte,
Suche Living Beames shoulde her black seate assayle
Too weyke for them, oure weyker sighte dothe vayle,
No sayes fayre Moone, my Lighte,
Shall barr that wronge, and thoughe yt not prevayle,
Lyke to my Brothers Rayes, yet those I sende,
Hurt not the face w ch no thing can amend.