And both inflam’d with furious despight:
Which as it still encreast, so still increast
Their cruell strokes and terrible affright;
Ne once for ruth their rigour they releast,
Ne once to breath[411] a while their angers tempest ceast.
Thus long they trac’d and trauerst to and fro, xxxvii
And tryde all waies, how each mote entrance make
Into the life of his malignant foe;
They hew’d their helmes, and plates asunder brake,
As they had potshares bene; for nought mote slake