The storme was such I durst not beare a sayle,
I durst not goe t’intreate my father’s wife,
Although I neuer was the cause of strife:
For gelosie, deuoyde of reason’s raygne,
With frenzyes fume enragde her restles brayne.
9.
But see the chaunce: Thus compast rounde with feare,
In broyles of bloude, as in the fielde I stand,
I wisht to God my corps were any where,
As out of life, or of this hatefull land.