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Section 707
Passage 1 of 2 · section 707 of 1239
1Hast.
2Woe, woe for England, not a whit for me,
3For I, too fond, might haue preuented this:
4Stanley did dreame, the Bore did rowse our Helmes,
5And I did scorne it, and disdaine to flye:
6Three times to day my Foot‑Cloth‑Horse did stumble,
7And started, when he look'd vpon the Tower,
8As loth to beare me to the slaughter‑house.