Thy conscience, caytife, shall proclayme thy thought:
A vision, Chaucer sheweth, discloasd[1383] thy crime:
The foxe descry the crowes and chattering pyen:
And shall thy felow felons not bewray
The guiltles death, whome guilty handes doe slay?
Unpunisht scapt for haynous cryme someone,
But vnauengde, in minde or body, none.
35.
Vengeaunce on my[1384] mynd, the freating furies take:
The sinfull coarse, lyke earthquake agewes shake: