As for my selfe my faultes be out so playne, And published [so] abroade[1039] in euery place, That though I would I cannot hide a grayne.[1040] All care is bootelesse in a curelesse case, To learne by other’s griefe,[1041] some haue the grace: And therefore, _Baldwine_, write my[1042] wretched fall, The briefe whereof I briefly vtter shall. 3. I am the same that[1043] slue duke _Richard’s_ childe, The louely babe that begged[1044] life with teares, Whereby mine honour[1045] fouly I defilde: Poore sely lambes the lion neuer teares, The feeble mouse may ly among the beares, But wrath of man, his rancour to requite, Forgets all reason, ruth, and vertue[1046] quite. 4. I meane by rancour the parentall[1047] wreke Surnamde a vertue, as the vicious[1048] say, But litle knowe the wicked[1049] what they speake, In boldening vs[1050] our enmyes kin to slay: To punish sinne is good, it is no nay: They wreke not sinne, but merit wreke for sinne, That wreke the father’s fault vpon[1051] his kinne. 5. Because my father lord _Iohn Clyfford_, dyed, Slayne at _S. Albane’s_, in his prince’s ayde, Agaynst the duke my heart for malice fryed, So that I could from wreck no way bee stayed, But to auenge my father’s death, assayde All meanes I might the duke of _Yorke_ t’annoy,[1052] And all his kin and friendes to kill and stroy.[1053] 6. This made mee with my bloudy[1054] dagger wound His guiltlesse sonne, that neuer agaynst mee storde: His father’s body lying dead on ground To pearce with speare, eke with my cruell sworde, To part his necke, and with his head to bourd Enuested with a royall paper[1055] crowne, From place to place to beare it vp and downe.[1056] 7. But cruelty[1057] can neuer scape the scourge Of shame, of horror, or of sodayne death:[1058] Repentaunce selfe, that other sinnes may pourge, Doth fly from this, so sore the soule it slayeth: Despayre dissolues the tyraunt’s bitter[1059] breath: For sodayn vengeaunce sodaynly alightes On cruell deedes,[1060] to quite theyr cruell spights.[1061] 8. This finde I true, for as I lay in stale, To fight with[1062] duke _Richard’s_ eldest son, I was destroyde not far[1063] from _Dintingdale_, For as I would my gorget haue vndon To euent[1064] the heat that had mee nigh vndone, An headles arrow strake mee through the throte, Where through my soule forsooke his fylthy cote.[1065] 9.