Went round about, mirth stood at euerie doore,
The oliue branch deceitfull treason bore,
Vsing the voice of peace which sweet did sound,
To vs at feast that were, in solace drown’d.
32.
The greedie gorge repleat with plentious feast,
Besots the sense and duls the spritfull minde,
Th’infeebled braine with strength of wine opprest,
Losing all quick conceit, soone waxed blinde,
The depth of Godwin’s plots we could not finde: