She with the seed of Ioue, the muses nine, So frequent was in her yeares youthfull prime, That she of them had learned power diuine To quell proud loue, if loue at any time In her pure brest aloft began to clime, The praise of whom so chaste, and yet so faire, Enuie’s foule selfe not iustly can impaire. 363. In learning’s better part her skill was such, That her sweet tongue could speake distinctiuely Greeke, Latin, Tuscane, Spanish, French, and Dutch: For few could come in friendly ambasie From forren parts to greet her maiestie, Whom she not answer’d in their natiue tongue, As if all language on her lips had hung. 364. Whereby the world did seeme to plead for right Within her court, where in her princely chaire, Astrea-like she sate with powerfull might To right the wrong of those, that in despaire Of other’s helpe, to her did make repaire, Who after humble sute backe neuer went Through her court gates without true mind’s content. 365. Witnesse great _Burbon_, when that house of Guise Did counterchecke thee in thy lawfull claime, In thy defence what prince did then arise, Or with strong hand, who in fight’s bloodie frame Did ioyne to wound thy rebell foes with shame? But England’s queene, who still with fresh supplie Did send her forces gainst thine enemie: 366. [Sidenote: _Anno eodem 34._ In _Stow_ anno 32.] To beare the first brunt in those bloodie broyles, That noble knight, the famous _Willoughby_, Did crosse the seas, and through important toyles Did lead a multitude, whose valiancie Made France admire our English Britanie, Whom England’s royall virgin did excite Vnto that warre t’aduance thee to thy right. 367. [Sidenote: _An. eodem._] And then to reinforce thy strength’s decay World-wondred _Norrice_, Mars his matchlesse sonne, Did with three thousand souldiers passe the sea, Who in French Britaine hauing once begunne, Did not forsake thee, till thy warres were done, Whom many did in this thy cause insue, And in thy French dust did their bloods imbrue. 368. [Sidenote: _An. eodem._ Earle of Essex.] [Sidenote: Sir _Walter Deuoreux_.] When noble _Deuoreux_, that heroicke knight, To shew his loue to armes and cheualrie, Ingag’d his person in that furious fight Before that towne, hight Roan in Normandie, His honor’d brother fighting valiantly; Who though but yong, yet oft approu’d in fight, By a small shot was slaine in his owne sight. 369. [Sidenote: Sir _William Sackuile_.]