And rest among the heuenly rout, bedect with sacred aire.
And thou for thy great cruelty, as God aboue doth know,
With ruful voice shalt wepe and wayle for thy gret ouerthrow,
And when thou woldst fayn purge thy self for that thy wretched dede
No kindnes shal to the be done, extreme shal be thy mede:
And where my tongue doth want his wil, thy mischiefe to display,
My hand and penne supplies the place, and shall do so alway.
For so thou hast constraynd the same by force of thy behest:
In silence still my tongue to keepe, t’accomplishe thy request.
Adieu, farewell my tormenter, thy frend that is full mute,