And if by chance sleepe doth my sense surprise,
Then doth illusion set before mine eie
My murthered nephewes, who aloud do crie,
Calling for vengeance for that bloodie sinne,
In strangling them the diadem to winne.
38.
Then starting vp from forth my naked bed,
With sword in hand I frantike-like would flie
About my chamber, and orecome with dread,
Vnto my guard I oftentimes would crie,