Through chambers wide shunning the souldier’s sight,
Runne heere and there to seeke some couert place,
To hide themselues from angrie Mars his face.
422.
About the parent’s knees, the children swarmes,
Calling in vaine for helpe with pitious cries,
The spouse fast clips her husband in her armes,
In whose sad brest his cold heart fainting dies,
Seeing the armed men before his eies,
Stand with bright swords in thicke tumultuous croud