Your politique secrets gard with trusty loyalty: So shal they lurke in most assured secrecie: By _Hastinge’s_ death, and after fame, ye learne The earth for murther cryeth out vengeance sterne: Flye from his faultes, and spare to hurt his fame,[1470] The eager houndes forbeare their slayne game; Dead, dead, auaunt curres from the conquered chase, Il mought[1471] he liue who loueth the dead to race. 92. Thus liued this lorde, thus died he, thus he slept, Mids forward race when first to rest he stept, Enuious death that bounceth aswel with mace At _Keysar’s_ courtes, as at the poorest gates:[1472] When nature seemde to slow by arts sloape[1473] meane Conueyghde him sooner to his liue’s extreame, Happy, in preuenting woes that after hapt, In slumber sweete his liuing lights hee lapt. 93. Whose thus vntymely death, if any[1474] grieue, Know hee, hee liu’d to dye, and dyde to liue: Untymely neuer coms the liue’s last mett, In cradell death may rightly clayme his[1475] debt: Straight after byrth due is the fatall beere: By death’s permission th’aged[1476] linger heere: Euen in the swathbands our commission goeth To loose thy breath, that yet but yongly bloweth. 94. Happy, thryse happy, who so loosth his breath, As life hee gayneth by his liuing[1477] death; As _Hastings_ here, whom tyme and truth agree T’engraue[1478] by fame in strong eternity: Who spareth not spitting, if hee spit but bloud? Yet this our lord, sparde not for other’s good: With one sweete breath his present death to speake, Against th’vsurpour bore, that hellish freake.[1479] 95. Worthy to lyue, but[1480] lyu’d not for himselfe, But prisde his fame more then this worldly pelfe: Whose name and lyne, if any yet preserue, Wee wish they liue like honour to deserue: Whether thou seeke by martiall prowesse prayse, Or _Pallas_ pollicie high thy name to rayse, Or trusty seruice iust death to[1481] attaine: _Hastings_ foreled: trace[1482] here his bloudy trayne. Maister D.[1483]