Whose tender age doth want your tender care:
Else will that roring lion Lewis kill
This litle lambe, though he hath done none ill.
95.
And thou, my litle sonne, take heed by me,
That thou thy peeres and people’s loue procure,
Contend not thou with thy nobilitie:
So shall thy state and kingdome long endure,
And thou from forren foes liue safe and sure:
For my false subiects vndeserued hate