Norfolk sprung thee, Lambeth holds thee dead; Clere, of the Count of Cleremont, thou hight! Within the womb of Ormond’s race thou bred And saw’st thy cousin crowned in thy sight. Shelton for love, Surrey for lord thou chase; (Aye, me! whilst life did last, that league was tender) Tracing whose steps thou sawest Kelsal blaze, Landrecy burnt, and...Learn More