In her owne blood all wallow’d wofully,
That her gay clothes did in discolour die.
Much was he moued at that ruefull sight;
And flam’d with zeale of vengeance inwardly,[246]
He askt, who had that Dame so fouly dight;
Or whether his owne hand, or whether other wight?
Ah woe is me, and well away[247] (quoth hee) xv
Bursting forth teares, like springs out of a banke,
That euer I this dismall day did see:
Full farre was I from thinking such a pranke;