Against my wyl, at Rome made such reporte,
That Constantinus thence dyd hether hye,
And being come vnto my Brittayne court,
With louer’s lookes hee striude to scale the fort
Of my good wyll: but when it woulde not bee,
He sighing, thus addrest his talke to me:
15.
“O Queene (quoth he,) thy deedes deserue great fame.
The goodly giftes that God hath geuen to thee
Be such, as I cannot thee greatly blame,