His trustelesse trayne, did seeme to me to yeelde,
But al the feeldes with great ambushmentes filde,
I coulde not flee, Alectus had the day,
With his owne sworde for breath he made me bray.
47.
As due desert did force my shippe to flote,
So vices vile me drencht in waues of woes:
O false suspect, why did’st thou make me dote?
Fearing my fall, my friends I deem’d my foes:
Fearing the worst, the best I did depose,