Both leafe and fruit, both too vntimely shed,
As one in wilfull bale for euer buried.
The time, that mortall men their weary cares xxxii
Do lay away, and all wilde beastes do rest,
And euery riuer eke his course forbeares,[892]
Then doth this wicked euill thee infest,
And riue with thousand throbs thy thrilled brest;
Like an huge Aetn’ of deepe engulfed griefe,
Sorrow is heaped in thy hollow chest,
Whence forth it breakes in sighes and anguish rife,