The wolues at hand were redy to deuoure The seely lambes in bed, wheras they laye, Abiding death, and looking for the howre, For well they wist, they could not scape away: Ah, woe is mee, that did them thus betray, In assigning this vile deede to bee done, By _Miles Forrest_ and wicked _Ihon Dighton_. 16. Who priuely into their chamber stale, In secret wise somwhat before midnight, And gan the bed together tug and hale, Bewrapping them, alas, in wofull[1767] plight, Keping them downe, by force, by power, and might, With haling, tugging, turmoyling, turnde[1768] and tost, Tyll they of force were forced yeeld the ghost. 17. Which when I heard, my hart I felt was eased Of grudge, of griefe, and inward deadly payne, But with this deede the nobles were displeased, And sayde: “O God, shall such a tyrant raygne, That hath so cruelly his brother’s children slayne?” Which bruit once blowen in the people’s ears, Their doloure was such, that they brast out in tears. 18. But what thing may suffise vnto the gredy[1769] man, The more hee baths in bloud, the bloudier hee is alway: By proofe I do this speake, which best declare it can, Which onely was the cause of this prince’s decay: The wolfe was neuer gredier then I was of my pray: But who so vseth murder, full well affirme I dare, With murder shall bee quit, ere hee thereof beware. 19. And marke the sequel of this begone mischiefe: Which shortly after was cause of my decay, For high and low conceiued such a griefe And hate agaynst mee, which sought, day by day, All wayes and meanes that possible they may, On mee to bee reuenged for this sinne, For cruelly murdering vnnaturally my kyn. 20. Not only kyn, but king, the truth to say, Whom vnkindely of kingdome I bereft, His lyfe from him, I also raught[1770] away, With his brother’s, which to my charge was[1771] left: Of ambition beholde the worke and weft, Prouoking mee to do this haynous treason, And murder them, agaynst all right and reason. 21. After whose death thus wrought by violence, The lords not lyking this vnnaturall deede, Began on mee to haue greate diffidence, Such brinning hate gan in their harts to breede, Which made mee doubt, and sore my daunger dreede: Which doubt and dreede proued not in vayne, By that ensude, alas, vnto my payne. 22.