See howe abuse breedes blake and bitter bale, Misuse dooth make of plenty, lothsome lacke, Amidst his blesse with wo it makes man wale, Onely abuse dooth woorke man’s wretched wracke: Amidst my ioyes, from ioye it beate me backe: For I and myne misusde our present blesse, Which brought both me and mine to wretchednesse. 19. We first misusde our present pleasaunt plentie, For which we whipt in thrall with scourges three, Had pestilence, which made my kingdome emptie, It did destroy my men of eche degree, Then faynting famine playde her tragedy, _Bellona_ then that beastly bloody queene, Did blowe her trumpe to dashe my courage cleene. 20. When sickenesse had consumde my subiectes quite, The _Pictes_ with pride did hast to spoyle my lande, I had no men, nor meanes with them to fight, For which I sent and did obtayne a bande Of _Saxons_, such as did the _Scots_[1193] withstande: Whose helpe that I when neede requirde might haue, I gaue them _Kent_, a countrey passing braue. 21. These _Saxons_ were a crewe of warrelike wightes, They liude by spoyle, and had no byding place, They were of truth a troupe of martial knyghtes, Which serude for pay where _Mars_ extolde his mace: _Saxons_ indeede they were of royal race, They _Angli_ hight, a stocke of woorthy fame, Of them this realme of _Englande_ tooke her name. 22. These _Angli_ brought the _Britaynes_ to the bay, We _Welchemen_ cal’d, to _Wales_ they did vs driue, They brought syxe sortes of _Saxons_ to decay, And got the goale for which they long did striue: Of other stockes they left not one alyue, They al this realme did plant with _Angli_ then, And termde themselues of _Angli_, _Englishmen_. 23. But howe they brought this enterprise about, Marke well the sequel which I shal recite: _Hengestus_ he the chieftayne of the route, A suttle sir, an vndermining wight, To feede my vaynes he tooke a great delight: His craftie heade did deeme it the best way, With pleasant baytes to make my crowne his pray. 24. He me his king inuited to a feast, A feast in fayth, which forst my final fall: Where _Cupide’s_ curse constraynde me like a beast, From _Pallas_ prince to geue the golden ball: For _Venus_ vantes to _Helline_ threwe my thrall, Whose heauenly hewe, whose beautie freshe and fayre, Was burnishte bright like _Phœbus_ in the ayre. 25.