My pallaces possessed of my foe,
My cities sackt, and their sky-threating towres
Raced, and made smooth fields now full of flowres?
Onely these marishes, and myrie bogs,
In which the fearefull ewftes do build their bowres,
Yeeld me an hostry mongst the croking frogs,
And harbour here in safety from those rauenous dogs.
Nathlesse (said he) deare Ladie with me goe, xxiv
Some place shall vs receiue, and harbour yield;
If not, we will it force, maugre your foe,