O strange return to a forgiving king!
But the warmed viper wears the greatest sting.
Thy pension lost, and justly without doubt;
When servants snarl, we ought to kick 'em out;
They that disdain their benefactor's bread,
No longer ought by bounty to be fed.
That lost, the visor changed, you turn about,
And straight a true blue Protestant crept out.
The "Friar" now was writ; and some will say,
They smell a mal-content through all the play.