92.
Thus liued this lorde, thus died he, thus he slept,
Mids forward race when first to rest he stept,
Enuious death that bounceth aswel with mace
At Keysar’s courtes, as at the poorest gates:[1472]
When nature seemde to slow by arts sloape[1473] meane
Conueyghde him sooner to his liue’s extreame,
Happy, in preuenting woes that after hapt,
In slumber sweete his liuing lights hee lapt.
93.