The guiltles bloud which wee vniustly shed, The royall babes deuested from theyr throne, And wee like traytours raigning in theyr sted, These heauy burdens passed[1594] vs vpon, Tormenting vs so by our selues alone, Much like the felon that pursude by night, Starts at ech bush, as his foe were in sight. 30. Now doubting state, now dreading losse of life, In feare of wracke at euery blast of winde, Now start in dreames through dread of murdrer’s[1595] knife, As though euen then reuengement were assynde: With restles thought so is the guilty minde Turmoyld, and neuer feeleth ease or stay, But liues in feare of that which followes aye. 31. Well gaue that judge his dome vpon the death Of _Titus Clelius_[1596] that in bed was slayne: Whan euery wight the cruell murder layeth To his two sonnes that in his chamber layen, The judge, that by the proofe perceiueth playne, That they were found fast sleeping in theyr bed, Hath deemde them guiltles of this bloud yshed. 32. Hee thought it could not bee, that they which brake The lawes of God and man in such outrage, Could so forthwith themselues to sleepe betake: He rather thought the horrour, and the rage Of such an heynous guilt, could neuer swage, Nor neuer suffer them to sleepe, or rest, Or dreadles breath one breth out of theyr brest. 33. So gnawes the griefe of conscience euermore, And in the heart it is so deepe ygraue,[1597] That they may neyther sleepe nor rest therefore, Ne thinke one thought but on the dread they haue: Still to the death foretossed with the waue Of restles woe, in terrour and despeyre, They leade a life continually in feare. 34. Like to the dere that stricken with the dart, Withdrawes himselfe into some secret place, And feeling greene the wound about his hart, Startles[1598] with pangs tyll hee fall on the grasse, And, in great feare, lies gasping there a space, Forth braying sighes, as though ech pang had brought The present death, which hee doth dread so oft: 35. So wee, deepe wounded with the bloudy thought, And gnawing worme that greu’d[1599] our conscience so, Neuer tooke ease, but as our heart out brought[1600] The strayned[1601] sighes in witnes of our woe, Such restles cares our fault did well beknowe: Wherewith, of our deserued fall, the feares In euery place rang death within our eares. 36.