¶For now
she knowes it is no gentle cha
se,
¶But the blunt boare, rough beare, or lyon proud,
885Becau
se the crie remaineth in one place,
¶VVhere fearefully the dogs exclaime aloud,
¶_Finding their enemie to be
so cur
st,
¶_They all
straine curt'
sie who
shall cope him fir
st.
¶This di
small crie rings
sadly in her eare,
890Through which it enters to
surpri
se her hart,
¶VVho ouercome by doubt, and bloodle
sse feare,
¶VVith cold-pale weakene
sse, nums ech feeling part,
¶_Like
soldiers when their captain once doth yeeld,
¶_They ba
sely flie, and dare not
stay the field.
895Thus
stands
she in a trembling exta
sie,
¶Till cheering vp her
sen
ses all di
smayd,
¶She tels them tis a cau
sle
sse fanta
sie,
¶And childi
sh error that they are affrayd,
¶_Bids thē leaue quaking, bids them feare no more,
900_And with that word,
she
spide the hunted boare.
¶VVho
se frothie mouth bepainted all with red,
¶Like milke, & blood, being mingled both togither,
¶A
second feare through all her
sinewes
spred,
¶VVhich madly hurries her,
she knowes not whither,
905_This way
she runs, and now
she will no further,
¶_But backe retires, to rate the boare for murther.
