Who thereby deeming sure the thing as donne,
His former griefe with furie fresh reuiued,
Much more then earst, and would haue algates riued
The hart out of his brest: for sith her ded
He surely dempt, himselfe he thought depriued
Quite of all hope, wherewith he long had fed
His foolish maladie, and long time had misled.
With thought whereof, exceeding mad he grew, iv
And in his rage his mother would haue slaine,
Had she not fled into a secret mew,