It chanc’d as I toward Westminster did ride, ’Mongst the great concourse passing to and fro, An aged man I happily espide, Whose outward looks much inward griefe did show, Which made me note him, and the more I ey’d Him, me thought more precisely I should know, Reuoluing long, it came into my mind, This was the man to me had been so kind: 70. Was therewithall so ioyed with his sight, (With the deare sight of his so reuerend face) That I could scarcely keepe me from t’alight, And in mine armes him openly embrace:[2066] Weighing yet (well) what some imagine might, He being a stranger, and the publike place Checkt my affection, till some fitter hower On him my loue effectually might shower. 71. “Neuer,” quoth I, “was fortune so vniust As to do wrong vnto thy noble[2067] hart, What man so wicked could betray the trust Of one so vpright, of so good desart? And though obey necessitie thou must, As when the great’st[2068] the same to me thou art, Let me alone the last be left of all, That from the rest declin’d not with thy fall.” 72. And calling to a gentleman of mine, Wise and discreet that well I knew to bee, Shew’d him that stranger, whose deiected eyne Fixt on the earth, nere once lookt vp at mee, “Bid yonder man come home to me and dine” Quoth I, “bespeake him reuerently, you see, Scorne not his habit, little canst thou tell How rich a mind in those meane rags doth dwell.” 73. He with my name that kindly did him greete, Slowly cast vp his deadly-mouing eye, That long time had been fixed on his feete, To looke no higher then his miserie, Thinking him more calamitie did greete, Or that I had supposed him some spye, With a deepe sigh that from his heart he drew, Quoth he: “His will accomplisht be by you.” 74. My man departed, and the message done, He whose sad heart with strange impressions strooke, To thinke vpon this accident begun, And on himselfe suspitiously to looke, Into all doubts he fearefully doth run, Oft himselfe cheering, oft himselfe forsooke: Strangely perplext vnto[2069] my house doth come, Not knowing why iudg’d, nor dreading yet his doome. 75. My seruants set his comming to attend, That were therein not common for their skill, Whose vsage yet the former did amend: He hop’d not good, nor guiltie was of ill, But as a man whose thoughts were at an end: “Fortune,” quoth he, “then worke on me thy will, Wiser then man, I thinke, he were that knew Whence this may come, or what thereof ensue.” 76.