And now to adde more measure to your woes,
[♦] I come to tell you things since then befalne.
After the bloudie fraie at Wakefield fought,
75 Where your braue father breath’d his latest gaspe,
[♦] Tidings as swiflie as the post could runne,
Was brought me of your losse, and his departure.
I then in London keeper of the King,
Mustred my souldiers, gathered flockes of friends,
80 And verie well appointed as I thought,
[♦] Marcht to saint Albons to entercept the Queene,