And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp
Than doth your brother that hath banish’d you.
To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself
030 Did steal behind him as he lay along
[031] Under an oak whose antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:
To the which place a poor sequester’d stag,
That from the hunter’s aim had ta’en a hurt,
035 Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord,
The wretched animal heaved forth such groans,