And in the heart it is so deepe ygraue,[1597]
That they may neyther sleepe nor rest therefore,
Ne thinke one thought but on the dread they haue:
Still to the death foretossed with the waue
Of restles woe, in terrour and despeyre,
They leade a life continually in feare.
34.
Like to the dere that stricken with the dart,
Withdrawes himselfe into some secret place,
And feeling greene the wound about his hart,