Our words were weaker, Gloster bore the sway:
Riuers my vncle, Vaughan, Grey, all three,
After that time I neuer more did see.
24.
Rob’d of my friends, to London we are led,
Vpon the way mourning with sighes and teares,
The wretched fate to fall vpon my head,
Griefe with a multitude of pensiue feares
Sits heauie on my heart: yet in my eares
Gloster to please me, sings this syren’s song,