In faithfull loue, our secret drifts to frame,
What hee thought best, to mee so seemde the same,
My selfe not bent so much for to aspyre,
As to fulfill that greedy duke’s desyre.
10.
Whose restlesse mynd, sore thirsting after rule,
When that hee sawe his nephewes both to bene
Through tender years as yet vnfit to rule,
And rather ruled by their mother’s kin,
There sought hee first his mischiefe to begin,