Thou that recuredst[1624] the torne dismembred state,
Euen when the conquerour was at the gate,
Art now exilde, as though thou not deserued
To rest in her, whom thou hadst so preserued.
65.
Ingratfull Rome, hast shewde thy crueltie
On him, by whom thou lyuest yet in fame,
But not thy deede, nor his desert shall die,
But his owne words shall witnes ay the same:
For, loe, his graue doth thee most iustly blame,