XIV.
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etourne agayne, my forces late dismayd,Unto the siege by you abandon’d quite.Great shame it is to leave, like one afrayd,So fayre a peece* for one repulse so light.’Gaynst such strong castles needeth greater mightThen those small forts which ye were wont belay**:Such haughty mynds, enur’d to hardy fight,Disdayne to yield unto the first assay.Bring therefore all the forces that ye may,And lay incessant battery to her heart;Playnts, prayers, vowes, ruth, sorrow, and dismay;Those engins can the proudest love convert:And, if those fayle, fall down and dy before her;So dying live, and living do adore her.[l _Peece_, fortress.][** _Belay_, beleaguer.]
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