I saw not better sport these seven years’ day:
Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high;
And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.
5 King. But what a point, my lord, your falcon made,
And what a pitch she flew above the rest!
To see how God in all his creatures works!
Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.
[♦] Suf. No marvel, an it like your majesty,
10 My lord protector’s hawks do tower so well;
They know their master loves to be aloft