(The manna dew, that in the easterne landes, Excelth the labour of the bees small handes:) Els for her _Memnon_ gray _Aurora’s_ teares, On the earth it stilleth, the partener of her feares: Or sendeth sweet showers to glad their mother earth, Whence first they tooke their first inconstant birth: To so great griefes, il taken wordes do[1467] grow: Of wordes wel taken, such delightes do flow. 86. This learned, thus be here at length an end, What since ensued, to thee I wil commend: Now farewel, _Baldwine_, shield my torne name, From slaunderous trompe of blasting blacke defame: But, ere I part, hereof thou record beare: I claime no parte of vertues reckned here: My vice my selfe, but God my vertues take: So hence depart I, as I entred naked. 87. Thus ended _Hastinges_ both his life and tale, Contayning al his worldly blisse and bale: Happye he liued, to happie but for sinne, Happie hee dyed whom right his death did bring: Thus euer happie, for there is no meane Twixt blisseful liues and mortal deathe’s extreame: Yet feared not his foes to staine his name, And by these sclaunders to procure his shame. 88. In rousty armure as in extreame shift, They clad themselues, to cloake their diuelish drift: And forthwith for substancial citezens sent, Declaring to them, _Hastinges_ forged entent, Was to haue slaine the duke: and to haue seised The kinge’s young person, slaying whom he had pleas’d: But God of iustice had withturnd that fate, Which, where it ought, light on his proper pate. 89. Then practised they by[1468] proclamation spred, Nought to forget, that mought[1469] defame him dead: Which was so curious, and so clerkely pend, So long withal, that when some did attend His death so young, they saw, that long before The shroude was shaped, then babe to dye was bore: So wonteth God to blinde the worldly wise, That not to see, that al the world espies. 90. One hearing it cried out: “A goodly cast, And wel contriued, foule cast away for hast:” Whereto another gan in scoffe replie, “First pend it was by enspiring prophecie:” So can God reape vp secret mischiefes wrought, To the confusion of the workers thought: My lords, the tub, that dround the _Clarence_ duke, Dround not his death, nor yet his deathe’s rebuke. 91.