And his hard cloake the freating mothes did pierce.
The monsters free and fearles all the time
Throughout the world the people did torment,
And more and more encreasing daie by day
Scorn’d his weake heart become a mistresse plaie.
An. In onelie this like Hercules am I,
In this I proue me of his lignage right:
In this himselfe, his deedes I shew in this,
In this, nought else, my ancestor he is.
But go we: die I must, and with braue ende