That restlesse I much like the hunted hare,
Or as the canuiste kite, doth feare the snare:
Ten hundred cares haue brought me to the baye,
Ten thousand snares for this my lyfe men laye.
29.
“'When Philip he of Macedon the king,
One realme me lefte, I could not be content,
Desier prickte me to an other thing,
To winne the worlde it was my whole intent,
Which donne, another worlde to winne I ment: