Thou friskest the deep marsh about;
While others thou wouldst fain benight,
Thy own fantastic flame goes out.
LOK.
The lamb doth scarce compassion meet;
Coward, he lets himself be slain:
Lok ne’er before his foes will deign,
Lamb-like, in piteous strains to bleat.
Vain, Balder, is that rule of thine,
Patience and piety to use;