Ne[1611] could I brooke him once within my brest, But with the thought my teeth would gnash withall: For though I erst were his by sworne behest, Yet when I saw mischiefe on mischiefe fall, So deepe in bloud, to murder prince and all, Ay then, thought I, alas, and welaway,[1612] And to my selfe thus mourning would I say: 51. If neyther loue, kinred, ne[1613] knot of bloud, His owne allegaunce to his prince of due, Nor yet the state of trust, wherein hee stoode, The world’s defame, nor nought could forme[1614] him true, Those gyltles babes, could they not make him rue? Nor could theyr youth, nor innocence withall Moue him from reauing them, theyr life, and all? 52. Alas, it could not moue him any iote, Ne[1615] make him once to rue, or wet his eye, Stird him no more then that that stirreth not: But as the rocke, or stone, that will not plye, So was his heart made hard with[1616] cruelty, To murder them: alas, I weepe in thought, To thinke on that which this fell wretch hath wrought. 53. That now, when hee had done the thing hee sought, And as he would, complisht and compast all, And saw and knew the treason hee had wrought To God and man, to slay his prince and all, Then seemde hee first to doubt and drede vs all, And mee in chiefe, whose death all meanes hee might, He sought to worke by malice and by might. 54. Such heapes of harms vpharbard in his brest, With enuious hart my honour to deface, And knowing hee, that I, which wotted best His wretched dryfts, and all his wretched case,[1617] If euer sprang within mee sparke of grace, Must nedes abhorre him and his hatefull race: Now more and more can cast mee out of grace. 55. Which sodayne chaunge, when I, by secret chaunce Had well perceiude, by proofe of enuious frowne, And saw the lot that did mee to aduaunce Him to a king, that sought to cast mee downe, To late it was to linger any stowne, Sith present choise lay cast before myne eye: To worke his death, or, I my selfe to dye. 56. And as the knight in field among his foes, Beset with swords, must slay or there bee slayne: So I, alas, lapt in a thousand woes, Beholding death on euery syde so playne, I rather chose by some sly secret trayne To worke his death, and I to liue therby, Then hee to liue, and I of force to dye. 57.