O turne agayne, And Philip is the blessedest of men.

I have a private Coat for Italian Steeletto's, I can be treacherous with the Wallowne, drunke with the Dutch, a Chimney-sweeper with the Irish, a Gentleman with the Welsh[202] and turne arrant theefe with the English: what then is my Country to me? Queen.

And like a strumpet turne thee to the lawes. Valen.

Now must he seek new spoile to rest his rest, For here his seeds turne weeds, his rest, unrest.