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Sonnet 20.
[Bold Martialists, braue Imps of noble birth]
Bold Martialists, braue Imps of noble birth,Shining in steele for France, and for your King:
Ye Sons of those that heretofore did bring
Beneath their yoake the pride of all the earth.
It is an honour to be high-descended;
But more, t'haue kept ones Country and fidelitie.
For, our owne vertues make vs most commended:
And Truth's the title of all true Nobility.
Your shoulders shoar'd vp France (euen like to fall)
You were her Atlas; Henry, Hercules:
And but for you, her shock had shaken All;
But now she stands stedfast on Ciuill Peace:
Wherefore, if yet your war-like heat doo work,
With holy Armes goe hunt the hatefull Turk.
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