Ice on the wrist with the ice in the chains.

Therewith his ſturdie corage ſoone was quayd, / And all his ſences were with ſuddein dread diſmayd.

[…] the Viceroy moved magnificently through India, resplendent with all the colour and dash of the vast Empire at his feet, with his superb bodyguard jangling scarlet beside his carriage, silken Indian princes bowing at his carpet, generals quivering at the salute and ceremonial salutes of thirty-one guns […]

[…] he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart;