Here creepes out of Sainct Filchers denne a packe of prowling mates,|
Most hurtfull to the Engliſh pale, and noyſome to the ſtates:
Which ſpare no more their country byrth, then thoſe of th' engliſh race,
But yeld to each a lyke good turne, when as they come in place.
They ſpoyle, and burne, and beare away, as fitte occaſions ſerue,
And thinke the greater ill they doe, the greater prayſe deſerue:
They paſſe not for the poore mans cry, nor yet reſpect his teares,|
But rather ioy to ſee the fire, to flaſh about his eares.
To ſee both flame, and ſmouldring ſmoke, to duſke the chriſtall ſkyes,
Next to their pray, therein I ſay, their ſecond glory lyes.
And thus bereauing him of houſe, of cattell and of ſtore,
They do returne backe to the wood, from whence they came before.
Here creeps out of Saint Filcher's den a pack of prowling mates,
Most hurtful to the , and noisome to the states.
Which spare no more their country birth, than those of the English race,
But yield to each a like good turn, when as they come in place.
They spoil, and burn, and bear away, as fit occasions serve,
And think the greater ill they do, the greater praise deserve:
They pass not for the poor man's cry, nor yet respect his tears,
But rather joy to see the fire, to flash about his ears.
To see both flame, and smouldering smoke, to dusk the crystal skies,
Next to their prey, therein I say, their second glory lies.
And thus bereaving him of house, of cattle and of store,
They do return back to the wood, from where they came before.