31.
The scourge of peacefull pride, the god of warre,
The prodigue spender of sweet plentie’s store
Did ride about our coast in iron carre,
Whose thundring wheeles like Neptune’s dreaded rore,
Were heard to rattle on our Albion shore,
So long, vntill the pale-fac’d queene of night
Had twelue times borrow’d of her brother’s light.
32.
In six fierce battels fought in martiall field,