A deadly gulfe: where nought but rubbish grows, With fowle blacke swelth in thickned lumps that lies, Which vp in th’ayre[1525] such stinking vapors throws That ouer there, may flie no fowle, but dyes Choakt with the pestilent[1526] sauours that arise: Hither wee come, whence forth wee still did pace, In dreadfull feare amid the dreadfull place: 32. And, first, within the porch and iawes of hell Sate deepe _Remorse of Conscience_, all bee sprent With teares: and to her selfe oft would shee tell Her wretchednes, and, cursing, neuer stent To sob and sighe: but euer thus lament, With thoughtfull care, as shee that, all in vaine, Would weare, and waste continually in payne. 33. Her[1527] eyes vnstedfast, rolling here and there, Whurld on each place, as place that vengeaunce brought, So was her minde continually in feare, Tossed[1528] and tormented with the[1529] tedious thought Of those detested crymes which shee had wrought: With dreadfull cheare, and lookes throwne to the skie, Wishing for death, and yet shee could not die. 34. Next, sawe wee _Dread_, all trembling how hee shooke, With foote, vncertayne, profered here and there: Benomd of speach, and, with a ghastly looke, Searcht euery place, all pale and dead for feare, His cap borne vp with staring of his heare, Stoynde and amazde at his owne shade for dreede, And fearing greater daungers then was neede. 35. And, next, within the entry of this lake, Sate fell _Reuenge_, gnashing her teeth for ire, Deuising meanes how shee may vengeaunce take, Neuer in rest, till shee haue her desire: But frets within so farforth with the fire Of wreaking flames, that now determines shee To dy by death, or vengde by death to bee. 36. When fell reuenge, with bloudy foule pretence Had showde her selfe, as next in order set, With trembling lims wee softly parted thence, Till in our eyes another sight wee met: When fro my heart a sigh forthwith I fet, Rewing, alas, vpon the woefull plight Of _Misery_, that next appeard in sight. 37. His face was leane, and somedeale pynde away And eke his hands consumed to the bone, But what his body was, I cannot say, For on his carkas rayment had hee none, Saue clouts and patches pieced one by one, With staffe in hand, and scrip on shoulder[1530] cast, His chiefe defence agaynst the winter’s blast. 38.