Leofricks wife, Naked rode to make Thee free, who obtained the Was but her Type, as to foretell, Freedome of the Thou should’st bring forth one, should excell city, of her Her Bounty, by whom thou should’st haue husband, by riding More Honour, then she Freedome gaue; thorow it naked. And that great Queene, which but of late Queene Rul’d this Land in Peace and State, Elizabeth.  Had not beene, but Heauen had sworne,
                    A Maide should raigne, when she was borne. 40
A noted Streete Of thy Streets, which thou hold’st best, in Couentry.  And most frequent of the rest,
                    Happy Mich-Parke eu’ry yeere,
His Mistresse On the fourth of August_ there,
birth-day._ Let thy Maides from FLORA’S bowers,
                    With their Choyce and daintiest flowers
                    Decke Thee vp, and from their store,
                    With braue Garlands crowne that dore. 
                    The old Man passing by that way,
                    To his Sonne in time shall say, 50
                    There was that Lady borne, which long
                    To after-Ages shall be sung;
                    Who vnawares being passed by,
                    Back to that House shall cast his Eye,
                    Speaking my Verses as he goes,
                    And with a Sigh shut eu’ry Close. 
                      Deare Citie, trauelling by thee,
                    When thy rising Spyres I see,
                    Destined her place of Birth;
                    Yet me thinkes the very Earth 60
                    Hallowed is, so farre as I
                    Can thee possibly descry: 
                    Then thou dwelling in this place,
                    Hearing some rude Hinde disgrace
                    Thy Citie with some scuruy thing,
                    Which some Iester forth did bring,
                    Speake these Lines where thou do’st come,
                    And strike the Slaue for euer dumbe.

TO THE CAMBRO-BRITANS and their Harpe, his Ballad of AGINCOVRT

    Faire stood the Wind for France,
    When we our Sayles aduance,
    Nor now to proue our chance,
        Longer will tarry;
    But putting to the Mayne,
    At Kaux, the Mouth of Sene,
    With all his Martiall Trayne,
        Landed King HARRY.

    And taking many a Fort,
    Furnish’d in Warlike sort, 10
    Marcheth tow’rds Agincourt,
        In happy howre;
    Skirmishing day by day,
    With those that stop’d his way,
    Where the French Gen’rall lay,
        With all his Power.