Xxxiv

His ruffin raiment all was staind with blood, Which he had spilt, and all to rags yrent, Through unadvized rashnesse woxen wood; For of his hands he had no governement, Ne car'd for bloud in his avengement: But when the furious fit was overpast, His cruell facts he often would repent; Yet wilfull man he never would forecast, How many mischieves should ensue his heedlesse hast.