[165] Suffolke. You bad me ban, and will you bid me sease?
Now by this ground that I am banisht from,
Well could I curse away a winters night,
And standing naked on a mountaine top,
Where byting cold would neuer let grasse grow,
170 And thinke it but a minute spent in sport.
Queene. No more. Sweete Suffolke hie thee hence to France,
Or liue where thou wilt within this worldes globe,
[♦] Ile haue an Irish that shall finde thee out,
And long thou shalt not staie, but ile haue thee repelde,