XXXIV

His ruffin raiment all was staind with blood,
Which he had spilt, and all to rags yrent,
Through unadvized rashnesse woxen wood; 300
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, 305
How many mischieves should ensue his heedlesse hast.

XXXV

Full many mischiefes follow cruell Wrath;
Abhorred bloodshed and tumultuous strife,
Unmanly murder, and unthrifty scath,°
Bitter despight, with rancours rusty knife, 310
And fretting griefe the enemy of life;
All these, and many evils moe haunt ire,
The swelling Splene,° and Frenzy raging rife,
The shaking Palsey, and Saint Fraunces fire:°
Such one was Wrath, the last of this ungodly tire. 315

XXXVI

And after all, upon the wagon beame
Rode Sathan, with a smarting whip in hand,
With which he forward lasht the laesie teme,