Harrow, the flames, which me consume (said hee)
Ne can be quencht, within my secret bowels bee.
That cursed man, that cruell feend of hell, l
Furor, oh Furor hath me thus bedight:
His deadly wounds within my liuers[648] swell,
And his whot fire burnes in mine entrails bright,
Kindled through his infernall brond of spight,
Sith late with him I batteil vaine would boste;
That now I weene Ioues dreaded thunder light
Does scorch not halfe so sore, nor damned ghoste