Whether the Turkish new Moone minded be,
To fill her hornes this yeere on Christian coast,
How Polands King mindes without leave of hoast,
To warme with ill made fire cold Muscovie,
If French can yet three parts in one agree,
What now the Dutch in their full diets boast,
How Holland harts, now so good Townes are lost,
Trust in the shade of pleasing Orange tree.
How Ulster likes of the same goldenbitt,
Wherewith my Father made it once halfe tame,
If in the Scottish Court be weltering yet;
These questions busie wits to me do frame,
I combered with good manners, aunswere doe,
But know not how, for still I thinke on you.