Or, under Thyne, let us sure shaddowed be.

Thyne reaches so long owre heaven, air, earth, sea—

This but a blast, and bounded is by The:

Tyme rotts the ane: Thyne doeth remain for ay,

Proclaiming peace unto thy saints alway.

Man’s Rainbowe’s collor’s red, and full of fyre;

Thine whyte, blew, red—signes of thy quenched ire.

[204] Folio MS., f. 71.

[205] Folio MS., f. 69. This is an answer to a short and general but very kindly letter from the Earl of Holland, dated 22d May.

[206] Folio MS., f. 68.