Ay then, thought I, alas, and welaway,[1612]
And to my selfe thus mourning would I say:
51.
If neyther loue, kinred, ne[1613] knot of bloud,
His owne allegaunce to his prince of due,
Nor yet the state of trust, wherein hee stoode,
The world’s defame, nor nought could forme[1614] him true,
Those gyltles babes, could they not make him rue?
Nor could theyr youth, nor innocence withall
Moue him from reauing them, theyr life, and all?