Who did imbrue their swords in my deare blood,
Where mastered with the smart of many a woond,
I bleeding fell vnto the dustie ground:
Where cursing Richmond and his conquering crue,
Thence in disdainfull sort my sad soule flew.
93.
I being slaine, those that for me did fight,
Turning their backes, away forthwith did flie,
In field my slaughtered bodie in despight,
Drag’d from the place where it did bleeding lie,