Hauing no mistrust of[911] any common signe,
I did imagine a castle built with stone,
For of no inne I could the same deuine:
In prophet’s skill my wit was neuer fyne,
A foole is hee that such vaine dreames doth dred,
And more foole of both that[912] will by them bee led.
31.
My life I lost in that vnlucky place,
With many lordes that leaned to my parte:
The earle[913] Percy had no better grace,