With fauning face good fortune smyled so,
I had my wyshe what might I hope for mo?
23.
For into Spayne the Roman souldiours sent,
I had at home the might him to depriue,
Then wisely I al perilles to preuent,
Prouided so that no man could ariue,
No Pict, nor Scot, nor Roman, then could striue
With me at home, then I the lordes with speede,
Of Brittayne calde, and thus I did proceede.