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128 LADY ANNE BOTHWELL'S LAMENT.
Balow, my boy, I'll weep for thee: m
Too soon, alake, thou'lt weep for me : Thy griefs are growing to a sum, God grant thee patience when they come; Born to sustain thy mother's shame, A hapless fate, a bastard's name. so
Balow, my hoy, ly still and sleep, It grieves me sore to hear thee weep.