And with the pray’rs which godly folke had made,
When from the castle they did heare my cries,
My soule on mercie’s wings did clime the skies.
150.
Thus hauing heard my lamentable fall
Procur’d by stubborne peeres disloyaltie,
And people’s wilfull hate, the spring of all
First flowing from deceitfull flatterie,
That deadly bane t’all princely royaltie:
Amongst the rest in place with painfull pen