180Alas how much in vaine my poore eyes gaze,

181For souccour that my soueraigne should send;

182A cosin Mountague, I feare thou wants,

183The liuely spirirt sharpely to solicit,

184Wth vehement sute the king in my behalfe:

185Thou dost not tell him what a griefe it is,

186To be the scornefull captiue to a Scot,

187Either to be wooed with broad vntuned othes,

188Or forst by rough insulting barbarisme:

189Thou doest not tell him if he heere preuaile,

190How much they will deride vs in the North,

191And in their vild vnseuill skipping giggs,

192Bray foorth their Conquest, and our ouerthrow,

193Euen in the barraine, bleake and fruitlesse aire,

195I must withdraw, the euerlasting foe,

196Comes to the wall, Ile closely step aside,

197And list their babble blunt and full of pride.

198K. Da: My Lord of Lorrayne, to our brother of Fraunce,

199Commend vs as the man in Christendome,

200That we must reuerence and intirely loue,

201Touching your embassage, returne and say,

202That we with England will not enter parlie,

203Nor neuer make faire wether, or take truce,

204But burne their neighbor townes and so persist,

205With eager Rods beyond their Citie Yorke,

206And neuer shall our bonny riders rest:

207Nor rust in canker, haue the time to eate,

208Their light borne snaffles, nor their nimble spurre

209Nor lay aside their Iacks of Gymould mayle,

210Nor hang their staues of grayned Scottish ash,

211In peacefull wise, vpon their Citie wals,

212Nor from their buttoned tawny leatherne belts,

213Dismisse their byting whinyards, till your King,