Thus did I sit in top of fortune’s wheele, Knit to the royall blood of England’s crowne, Till death did strike, mischance I nere did feele, Fortune at my successe did neuer frowne, Who in the hight of pride pluckes manie downe: Dreadlesse I liu’d, being dreaded still of all, Fearing no lucklesse chance, that might befall. 44. Beneath the sway of my securefull power I from the king my guilt did long conceale Of _Alfred’s_ death, vntill that fatall houre, When fate appointed did my soule appeale, And in my death my bloodie deed reueale: Blood for due vengeance neuer calls in vaine, Heau’n will reuenge, when we remisse remaine. 45. Once sitting at the table with the king, My son, whose office was the cup to beare, By chance did stumble, as he did it bring, And lightlie did himself againe vpreare, At which by me these speeches spoken were: “Ha, ha, my liege,” said I, “see how one brother In time of need can well sustaine the other.” 46. To which the king return’d this sterne replie With browes contract, signes of his angrie minde, “Most true it is,” said he, “and so should I My louing brother _Alfred_ liuing finde To helpe me now, but for thy self vnkinde.” With which neere toucht: yet all distrust to shun, Bread streight I took, and thus my oth begun. 47. “This bread,” quoth I, “I neuer wish to take Downe through this throat into my hollow chest, But choaking me, God grant, that it may make My death a scandall, to my soule vnblest, Which heav’n henceforth for euer may detest, If I your brother _Alfred_ did betray, Or gaue consent to take his life away.” 48. No sooner had I spoke, and taken bread, But of the heauens, my wish I did obtaine, Vnto the ground I instantlie fell dead, While yet the bread did in my throate remaine, Through which to passe, the breath did striue in vaine: In death did heau’n detect my villanie, In death did vengeance iustlie seise on mee. 49. Which in my suddaine downefall tooke not end, This dreadfull iudgement could not satisfie The wrath of righteous Ioue, who did intend The extirpation of my progenie, In the reuenge of _Alfred’s_ tragedie, With seu’n sonnes done to death, all valiant men, My name did vade, as it had neuer ben. 50.