Foming with poyson round about her gils,
In which her cursed tongue full sharpe and short
Appear’d like Aspis sting, that closely kils,
Or cruelly does wound, whom so she wils:
A distaffe in her other hand she had,
Vpon the which she litle spinnes, but spils,
And faynes to weaue false tales and leasings bad,
To throw amongst the good, which others had disprad.
These two now had themselues combynd in one, xxxvii
And linckt together gainst Sir Artegall,