The Barons up in armes, by me salute
Your highnes, with long life and happines,
And bid me say as plainer to your grace,
That if without effusion of bloud,
You will this greefe have ease and remedie,
That from your princely person you remoove
This Spencer, as a putrifying branche,
That deads the royall vine, whose golden leaves
Empale your princelie head, your diadem,
Whose brightnes such pernitious upstarts dim,
Say they, and lovinglie advise your grace,
To cherish vertue and nobilitie,
And have old servitors in high esteeme,
And shake off smooth dissembling flatterers:
This graunted, they, their honors, and their lives,
Are to your highnesse vowd and consecrate.
