Which in this life I by my death haue wonne,
I dead, that left to liue, when I am gone,
Yea, this in death shall liue my future grace,
I di’d a conquerour in cold death’s embrace.
111.
The kingly ruth which our sad soule attends
Is our deare countrie’s sight, which setled deepe
In depth of my deare loue (O noble friends)
To you I tender ’gainst all spoile to keepe,
When I in peace haue laid me down to sleepe,