 | Chrestoleros |  |
Epigr. 22. Ad eandem.
I know where is a thiefe and long hath beene,Which spoyleth euery place where he resortes.
He steales away both subiectes from the Queene.
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Howses by three, and seauen, and ten he raseth,
To make the common gleabe, his priuate land.
Our country Cities cruell he defaceth,
The grasse grows greene where litle Troy did stand,
The forlorne father hanging downe his head,
His our cast company drawne vp and downe.
The pining labourer doth begge his bread.
The plowswayne seek's his dinner from the towne,
O Prince, the wrong is thine, for vnderstand:
Many such robbries will vndoe thy land.
| Chrestoleros | |