Although the theeves are plagued thus, by Princes trusty frendes,
And brought for their innormyties, to sondry wretched endes:
Yet may not that a warning be, to those they leave behinde,
But needes their treasons must appeare, long kept in fettred mynde.
Whereby the matter groweth at length, unto a bloudy fielde,
Even unto the rebells overtheow, except the traytours yelde.
For he that governes Irishe soyle, presenting there her grace,
Whose fame made rebells often flye, the presence of his face:
He he I say, he goeth forth, with Marsis noble trayne,
To justifie his Princes cause, but their demenures vayne:
Thus Queene he will have honoured, in middest of all her foes,
And knowne to be a royall Prince, even in despight of those.