Pardon’d him in secret, that no peere might know
His leaud intent, and so might worke him woe:
O height of princely spirit, past humane sence!
O mercie past compare, for such offence!
91.
Yet this false wretch, in whose obdurate heart
No loyall loue did dwell, persisted still
In his blacke treason, and did vse all art
Oft times with dagger, dag or any ill,
T’effect the purpose of his bloodie will: