28.
When nine times hee had spoken this, and went
Foure times the altar rounde, and staide agen,
He powr’d the wine and bloud in hand hee hent
Into the fire. O witlesse cares of men,
Such folly meere, and blindnes great was then.
But if religion now biddes toyes farewell,
Embrace that’s good, the vice of times I tell.
29.
He layde him then downe by the altars side,