For yf ye were suche fyfty as ye be / ye were not able to make resystence ageynst this deuyl / here lyeth a duchesse deede the whiche was the fayrest of alle the world wyf to syre Howel / duc of Bretayne / he hath murthred her in forcynge her / and has slytte her vnto the nauyl

At Liberty th’ unfetter’d Captive stands, And flings the loosen’d Shackles from his Hands.

My cheap dictionary is not the authority on word derivations.

Thus vanish sceptres, coronets, and balls, / And leave you on lone woods, or empty walls.