Troy and O yee soules of our forefathers Which in your countreys fires were offered up, How neere your Nephews to your fortunes come.

Thus manie yeares I now have spent and worne, In meane regard, and basest fortunes scorne, 60 Dooing my countrey service as I might, No lesse I dare saie than the prowdest wight; And still I hoped to be up advaunced For my good parts; but still it hath mischaunced.

They will become a countrey teame rarely.