My Lord, if ever you did deed of rush,
And now will work a refuge to our lives,
Ofter submission, hang up flags of truce,
That Tamburlaine may pitie our distresse,
And use us like a loving Conquerour.
Though this be held his last daies dreadfull siege,
Wherein he spareth neither man nor child,
Yet are there Christians of Georgia here,
Whose state he ever pitied and reliev'd,
Wil get his pardon if your grace would send.
