"Woe worth me! I was proud, with little right, So good a king, so stout a cavalier For he should in the fierce and dangerous fight Peril his life, who now, I see to clear, Upon a ground of strife so passing light, With the same risk prepares to couch the spear.
You, more than love for me, to strife impels The natural rage, wherewith your bosom swells.
