That I had felte, and of my brother’s force:
Howe Guthlacke did my wife and me diuorce,
The broyles at Sea, the toyles I taken had at land,
Which neuer coulde the face of Fortune’s foyle withstand.
16.
Thou Britayne tall (quoth he) I rue thy fate,
Thou noble Prince (for so thou art in showe)
If I could now restore thee thine estate,
Thou shouldst perceyue what fauour I thee owe;
’Tis Fortune’s vse t’exalte and ouerthrow;