Direct reading · Original
Section 321
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Scroope.
Glad am I, that your Highnesse is so arm'd
To beare the tidings of Calamitie.
Like an vnseasonable stormie day,
Which make the Siluer Riuers drowne their Shores,
As if the World were all dissolu'd to teares:
So Bullingbrooke, couering your fearefull Land
With hard bright Steele, and hearts harder then Steele:
White Beares haue arm'd their thin and hairelesse Scalps
Against thy Maiestie and Boyes with Womens Voyces,
Striue to speake bigge, and clap their female ioints
In stiffe unwieldie Armes: against thy Crowne
They very Beads‑men learne to bend their Bowes
Of double fatall Eugh: against thy State
Yea Distaffe‑Women manage rustie Bills:
Against thy Seat both young and old rebell,