Our angrie doome, that threatned their decay.
56.
Yeelding to fate by force of destinie,
Whose foreappointing prouidence hath power
In euery thing t’enforce necessitie,
We grant them life, reseruing in the tower
That Mortimer at London for that hower,
In which by destiny it was set downe,
That that false lord should ruine my renowne.
57.