Next after him went Doubt, who was yclad x
In a discolour’d cote, of straunge disguyse,
That at his backe a brode Capuccio had,
And sleeues dependant Albanese-wyse:
He lookt askew with his mistrustfull eyes,
And nicely trode, as thornes lay in his way,
Or that the flore to shrinke he did auyse,
And on a broken reed he still did stay
His feeble steps, which shrunke, when hard theron he lay.
With him went Daunger, cloth’d[1169] in ragged weed, xi