A crowne of care, the cause of froward strife,
The cause for which I lost my loued life.
20.
For after that against th’inuading foe
Six bloodie battailes I had fought in field,
I that in warre away did victor goe,
On whom (O England) thou thy hopes didst build,
Vanquish’t in peace to death was forc’d to yeeld:
The chance of warre my chance could not apall,
But trust in traytors wrought my wretched fall.