44.
Folly was the chiefe, the noughty time was next,
Which made my fortune subiect to the chiefe:
If England then with strife had not beene vext,
Glory might haue growen whereas ensued griefe:
Yet one thing is my comfort[946] and reliefe,
Constant I was in my prince’s quarell
To die, or liue, and spared for no parell.
45.
What though fortune enuious was my foe?