The common people swarme like summer flies,
[♦] And whither flies the Gnats but to the sun?
And who shines now but Henries enemie?
75 Oh Phœbus hadst thou neuer giuen consent,
That Phæton should checke thy fierie steedes,
Thy burning carre had neuer scorcht the earth.
And Henry hadst thou liu’d as kings should doe,
And as thy father and his father did,
80 Giuing no foot vnto the house of Yorke,
I and ten thousand in this wofull land,