Who tooke to wife as yee shall vnderstand A mayden of a noble house and olde, _Raulfe Neuil’s_ daughter, earle of _Westmerland_, Whose sonne earle _Richard_, was a baron bolde, And had the right of _Salisbury_ in holde, Through mariage made with good earle _Thomas_ heyre, Whose earned prayses neuer shall appayre. 8. The duke my father had by this his wife Four sonnes, of whom the eldest _Edward_ hight, The second _Eadmund_, who [in youth] did loose his life,[1174] At _Wakefielde_ slayne by _Clyfford_ cruell knight: I _George_ am third, of _Clarence_ duke by right: The fourth, borne to the mischiefe of vs all, Was duke of _Glocester_,[1175] whom men did[1176] _Richard_ call. 9. Whan as our sire in sute of right was slaine, (Whose life and death himselfe declared earst) My brother _Edward_ plyed his cause amayne,[1177] And got[1178] the crowne, as _Warwicke_ hath rehearst: The pride whereof so deepe his stomacke pearst That hee forgot his friendes, dispisde his kin, Of oth or office passing not a pyn.[1179] 10. Which made the earle of _Warwicke_ to maligne My brother’s state,[1180] and to attempt a way To bring from prison _Henry_, seely king, To helpe him to the kingdome[1181] if hee may, And knowing mee to bee the chiefest stay My brother had, hee did mee vndermine To cause mee to his treasons to encline.[1182] 11. Whereto I was prepared long before, My brother had beene to mee so vnkinde: For sure no cankar fretteth flesh so sore,[1183] As vnkinde dealing doth a louing minde: Loue’s strongest bandes vnkindnes doth vnbinde, It moueth loue to malice, zeale to hate, Chiefe friendes to foes, and brethren to debate. 12. And though the earle of _Warwicke_, subtile sire Perceiude I bare a grudge against my brother, Yet toward his feate to set mee more on fire, Hee kindled vp one firebrand with another: For knowing fancy was the forcing rother Which stirreth youth to any kinde of strife, Hee offered mee his daughter to my wife. 13. Where through, and with his crafty filed tongue, Hee stale my heart that earst vnsteady was, For I was witlesse, wanton, fond and yong, Whole bent to pleasure, brittle as the glasse, I can not lye, _In vino veritas_: I did esteeme the bewty of my bryde Aboue my selfe, and all the world beside. 14.