That vvhich seemes best is worst Exprest in a paraphrastical transcript of Iuuenals tenth satyre. Together with the tragicall narration of Virginias death interserted. By W.B.

IVVENAL HIS TENTH SATYRE . The Argument of this tenth Satyre . Wealth , Honour , Empire , strength and Eloquence , Beautie , long Life , Children and Wiues we wish , These happinesses seeme to outward sense : In this worlds swelling sea for these we fish . Happy we thinke our selues , if these we haue , These therefore onely of the Gods we craue . And yet these things are those which hurt vs most , Wealth temptes the thiefe , Honor the enuious man . Strength makes men rash , & Eloquence is crost , Beauty 's a whore , long Life is but a span , And Wiues and Children say as doe the rest , That things most sought for , are not alwaies best . The man who would be truly blest therefore , Must vnto vertues way himselfe applie . He must be patient , constant , seeke no more , Resolu'd , and neither wish nor feare to die . And let him vnto God referre the rest , Who better then our selues , knowes what is best . IN all the lands , from Gades vnto the East To Ganges , few there are who know what 's best , Or worst , though error 's mist were quite remoued : For what with reason is there feard or loued ? What in conceit hath ere so well begun , Which hath not in the end been wisht vndone ? The gentle gods giuing as men would haue them , Haue taken from them all that ere they gaue them ; They by their granting all that ere men craued , Haue vndone many a house they might haue saued . In peace , in warre , most hurtfull things are sought , Thus flowing eloquence hath come to nought , Murdred it selfe . Thus Miloes wondrous strength Wherein he trusted , was his bane at length . But heapes of coine hoorded with too much care Strangle ; and so doth wealth which is so rare Exceeding others , their estates and all As doth the Brittish Whale the Dolphin small . Thus , in those cruell times , when Nero bad The Souldiers rifle all the goods men had , They get them presently to Longines house , To Senecaes rich gardens , where they rouse , And spoile , and beare away what ere they can , And then beser the house of Lateran : These doe they rob , while as the poore man sleepes , Seldome the Souldier in a cottage peepes . Beare but a little of thy siluer plate At night about thee , when thou trauelst late , The sword , the speare , the shaddow of a reede Shaken in Moone light , filles thee full of dread : Whereas the empty traueller goes by , And sings before a thiefe full merily . The chiefest vowes in euery Church most knowne , Are riches , wealthes increase , our cofers growne ; And yet in pitchers poysons are not ta'ne , In cups beset with gemmes suspect thy bane , Or when the Setine Wine thou maist behold , Burning within a burnisht pot of gold . Now which of these two wise men dost thou praise , Or he which laught , or he which wept alwaies ? A laughing censure is an easie thing , But strange ; whence t' others teares should alwaies spring . Merry Democritus did alwaies smile And beate his lungs with laughter ; yet meane while Within those Cities where this wise man bode , There went no purple golden coates abroad , There were no Fasces ; Chaires of State as then , No swooping traines or litters borne by men . O had he seene the Praetor mounted hye , And in his chariot through the street passe by In mighty Iupiters owne robes yclad , Or in his gowne with gawdy colours made , Or else the circle of his massie crowne Such as might waigh & presse his shoulders downe . The loade whereof in publike makes him swet , Now least this Consull might himselfe forget , Within his Coach his seruant sitteth by , Teaching his Masters pride , humilitie , Anon he takes his mase of iuory , On top whereof Ioues bird sits perching high , There may you heare a noise of Corneters , And here a ranke of other Officers ; Others attending at the horses raines , All which he hires , and with his mony gaines . Democritus was wont in the same sort , At euery one he met to laugh and sport , Whose wisedome shewes , that so it may fall out , Lords may be borne amidst the witlesse rout ; Mens ioyes and sorrowes he a like disdain'd , And at their teares would laugh when they complain'd : ' When fortune frown'd , to him it was no matter , Hee 'd send a halter to her , and point at her . Thus man desires both vaine and hurtfull things , For which vnto the Gods his vowes he brings . Others desirous to be great and knowne , Haue been enuied , and thereby ouerthrowne , Their Catalogue and all their acts defaced , Their honours lost , and they themselues disgraced , Their statuaes spoiled , and dragged along the street , Their Coach-wheeles broke , and al trod vnder feet , And their proud horses which in triumph went , They must be slaine , and for their Masters shent . And now the smoke and fire begins to flame , And that adored head which had such fame , Mighty Seianus ; he who was so great , Begins to frie amidst the flaming heat , And of the ashes of his honoured face Pitchers are made , and vessels of disgrace . O who could thinke that euer great Seian ' Should being burnt , become a dripping-pan . Where are thy Lawrels , thy triumphant bayes Thy buls for sacrifice , the people sayes ? Seianus to his death is led forth right , And goes along in all the peoples sight , Whereat the enuious multitude is glad : Looke ( say they ) what a face , what lips hee had Saith one , I neuer lou'd this haughtie man , I did foresee this end when he began . But say , now tell me what was his offense , Who his accusers , vpon what pretense , What proofes , what witnesses did any bring Against Seianus when they wrought this thing ? Tut ! none of these ; it was sufficient There was a letter from Campania sent , Which to the Senate came : O ho , wa's t so ; No more ; I guesse now how the world doth goe . But what ? meane while , what doe the people say ? As alwaies ; that which fortune does , doe they . Fortunes inconstancie they aemulate : Whom Fortune loues they loue , whom not , they hate . Though a mans life his death may well commend , Yet doe the people hate a man condemn'd . And yet these people , these selfe very same Who now cry out vpon Seianus name , Had yet the Goddesse Nurscia him defended , Or had the Princes life with age been ended Tha 〈…〉 y houre wherein the Prince had di'd God ●●e Seianus ! had the people cride . He had been made Augustus , he alone Had had the peoples acclamation : But since it is not now , as erst of old , Since now the peoples voices are not sold , Indeed they once did giue the Empery The Fasces , Legions , and each dignity , But now they leaue , and lay aside this care And with their bread and sports contented are . Meane while some of the people herewithall Begin to feare to see Seianus fall , T' is said ( saith one ) there 's more then he proscribed , Nay t' is too true , a mighty fire 's prouided As I came by , I met Brutidius At Mars his shrine who look't most piteous : O how I feare lest Caesar should pretend That we the people doe him ill defend ? Whereof accused , to 'scape a greater ill , With Aiax , many a one himselfe will kill ; Come then and let vs while his body yet Lies on the shore , trample it vnder feet ; And let our slaues looke on lest they denie And bring their Masters into ieopardie . Thus Seian ' falles , and thus the people speake Thus fortunes frownes ambitions neck doth break . And wilt thou now since this is come to passe Desire to be saluted as he was , To haue his wealth , his chiefest seate of all , Ouer the Armie to bee Generall , The Princes guide , who out of Rome doth sit With Caldie Wisards practising his wit ? Thou faine would'st haue ( is not thy mind so bent ) His Launce , his troopes , his horse , his stately tent ? Thou wishest these might fall vnto thy lot , This thou dost aske , and saist , why should I not ? For some there are which would not kill their foe , Which wish yet to be able to doe so . But in this world what can so happie be , What hope from feare ? what State from danger free ? Our honey sweets with bitter gall are blended And all our ioyes with sorrowes are attended : Which of these two then had'st thou rather be , Or great Seianus in his surquedrie . Or else some Officer , some simple man Awing the Fiden and the Gabian ? Clarke of the marquet like a Iudge to sit , Breaking their measures as thou thinkest fit ? Sure thou wilt say , Setanus he was wood Who wish't and had , but wist not what was good , He which to too much honour did aspire , And , not content , did too much wealth desire , He rais'd a turret ouertopping all , The higher t' was , the greater was his fall : Fortune that rais'd him threw him downe againe , And when he gan to fall he fell amaine . What ouerthrew Crassus and Pompies state , And him which did the Romans subiugate , But honours thirst , by proud ambition wrought ? While as the Gods vouchsafd them all they sought . Few Kings doe die which are not murthered , Seldome a Tyrant dieth in his bed . Since honours fal then is so violent , Another wisheth to be eloquent , Famous as Tully or Demosthenes ; Wherfore he praies , it might Minerua please , ( And therefore celebrates her fiue dayes feast , And buyes Mineruaes picture at the least Which in a Casket he doth trimly keepe ) That he may haue their eloquence so deepe : But out alas ! they both gaue such offence , That both did perish by their eloquence ; Each of them had a fluent tongue indeed , But this alone did both their mischiefes breed : Tullies owne wit cut off his head and hands ; A meaner Orator securely stands All day at barre , and pleades the best he can , And no man seekes to hurt the honest man . When I was Consull Rome was fortunate , Said Tully once , but this procur'd no hate : Had all the rest he spake , been like to this He might haue skorn'd a world of Anthonies , But t' was not so , that which his throat did stick Was his so famous second Philippicke . Thus he whom Athens did so much admire . Whose words did set his auditors on fire , Who in the Theater the raines did hold , And led the common people as he would ; This mighty torrent of swift eloquence Came to his end by his fierce vehemence : Hard was his hap , and sinister his fate , The angry Gods made him vnfortunate ; Whose father almost blind in both his eyes With soot and smoke , which from his forge did rise , From middest his rust , his hammers , and his tooles , From Vulcans shop he sent him to the schooles . O but the spoyles and trophies of the warre , The Gorget , Helmet hewd with many a skarre , The broken Chariots , Flags and Ancients torne , The captiue prisoners looking all forlorne ; These high renownes doe noble breasts enflame And make them hazard all to purchase fame : This doth the worthie Romane and the Greeke , This the Barbarian doth also seeke ; This makes them feare no dangers , this doth make Them all so many labours vndertake ; ( So farre the thirst of honour doth exceed , On learnings praise , on sacred vertues meed : For who will euer after vertue looke , If vertues guerdons be from vertue tooke ) . Yet lust of praise , the glory of a few , Our State and countrey sometimes ouerthrew . O what a goodly thing it seem'd to some To see their titles grauen on their tombe ! Which yet a fig , a shrub in little space Their taking root , would ruine and deface : And can a toombe then fame perpetuate ? Alas , it selfe is subiect vnto fate . Weigh Hanniball and see how many pound Within this Captaines ashes may be found . This is that Hannibal whom Africa ( Which westward stretcheth to th' Atlantick sea , Eastward as farre as Nilus slimy sands To Aethiopiaes mightie Elephands ) : All which cannot great Hannibal containe , But to these Kingdomes he vniteth Spaine . Ouer the Pyrenaean hilles he goes , Vntill he come toward the Alpian snowes , Where natures selfe would seeme to stop his way , But all in vaine ; nothing can make him stay , He teares the rockes , and melts the snow with fire , And fretteth out his way with vineger . And now is he possest of Italie , Where with his armie he doth onward hie . All this is nought ( saith he ) yet must we come And breake the gates , and rase the walles of Rome , Where in Suburra in the market place Wee l ' spread our colours , and the Romans chace . O what a martiall countenance had he ? How braue a sight his picture drawne would be ? When with one eye like to a pettie God Vpon an Elephant he proudly rode . But what became of all this pompe and state ? O false vaine-glory , most vnhappie fate ! Great Hannibal is ouercome and flies , And for his safety into Syria hies : From thence he gets into Bithynia , And seekes for succour of King Prusia , Where at the Court he stands without the gate , And for the Kings returne from sleepe doth waite : He which so much disturb'd the world with strife From whom nor sword , nor speare could take his life . He which at Cannes the Romans ouerthrew , This man at length his poyson'd owne ring flew . Go mighty mad man ! climbe the Alpes againe , And then come downe and rifle all the plaine , Make matter for each boy to worke vpon , Wherewith to stuffe his declamation . One world will not containe great Alexander , To finde out other worlds he needs must wander : He hath not elbow roome , but puffes and blowes , This world wants aire , it is too straite and close Alas ! to Alexander t' is no mo Then is the island Giare or Seripho . And yet this great one for the world too great , At Babylon lies in a narrow seate ; Death takes vs downe , death doth alone confesse How much our bodies then our mindes are lesse . It is beleeu'd mong other tales of old , Which lying Greece hath in her story told , How Cyrus dig'd downe Athos , how he came , And with his Nauie ouerfaild the same : How in the sea on ships a bridge he set , O're which his armie and his troops might get : And how the Persian souldiers passing by , Haue at one dinner dranke whole riuers dry , He which made land be sea , and sea be land , ( saith Sostratus ) who could his power withstand ? And yet this Cyrus with his flying fame , What was he when from Salamine he came ? He which with whips was wont to scourge the wind , ( To whom great Aeolus was farre more kind ) He which would lay vp Neptune fast in chaines , Or bore him through the eare with gentler paines , Can any thinke the Gods ( O monstrous blindnes ! ) Would any of them doe this foole a kindnesse ? How came he backe then ? onely with one boate Which mongst his slaughtered men in blood did float : Thus glory ends , and thus ends he which sought it : Thus was it sold , and thus he deerely bought it . Great Iupiter ! ( saith one prolong my dayes : Thus somtimes merrie , somtimes sad he prayes : Meane while the man that liueth to be old Sustaines more miserie then can be told : Old age with many sorrowes is distrest , And those vncessant that it cannot rest : How fowle and ougly t' is to looke vpon ? Full of diseases and corruption . O how vnlike a man it makes a man , His soft white skinne it doth like lether tan , It makes his cheekes hang flag , wrinckles his brow ▪ Hollowes his eyes , and makes his shoulders bow , In Tabracena like an old Bitch-Ape Among the trees , so doth he rub and scrape . Mong young men many differences be , He is more faire then this , and this then he , One is more swift , another stronger is , Each ioyeth in his proper qualities : But old mens faces all doe looke as one ; His limmes doe tremble , and his voyce doth mone , He shakes his head , and like an infant goes , And coughes and driuels through his snotty nose ; He suppes his meat , and softer bread he chawes , Alas , a crust would bruse his toothlesse iawes ; A knife he cares not for , giue him a spoone , Feede him with pap , and milke , and sleepe at noone : Old man alas ! he is vnsauory Vnto himselfe , his wife and progeny . He which would be his heire cannot abide him , Cossus , he stops his nose , and doth deride him : The rellish of his meate and drinke is past , For now his palate is quite out of tast . The pleasures he was wont in youth to find , Are now long since forgot and out of mind ; He can doe nothing now as heretofore , Those daies be gone , he can doe so no more . His bodie 's chill , his lusty blood is cold , Alas , put cloathes vpon him , now he 's old . If he pleas'd others in his youthfull time , They shall doe well if now they cherish him ; They must not looke for former pleasures still , Without performance what auailes the will ? But now behold ! another losse appeares , The noise of musicke pleaseth not his eares , No , though Seleucus sing with all his skill , Or all his consort with their trumpets shrill : It skills not in the Theater where he sit , Cornet or trumpet he heares neare a whit , His boy , which tells him who comes in and out , And what 's the clocke , must in his deafe eare shout ; The little life , which in his pulse doth beate , Is warmed onely by a feuers heate . A swarme of old diseases crawle about him , Aches and paines within him and without him ; Whose seuerall names if any man desire ; Sooner I might expresse ( did neede require ) The names of those which haue with Hippia laine , How many patients Themison hath slaine , How many young men Basilus hath spoild , How many pupils Hirrus hath beguild , How many men long Maura in one day , Hath swallowed quick , and brought them to decay : I could in lesser time at large expresse How many Townes Licinius doth possesse , Who now into the Senate house doth passe , Who erst no better then a barber was : One of his shoulders , this of his loines complaines Anothers hips are weake and full of paines . A fourth hath lost both eyes , and doth enuie A very blinkes that hath but halfe an eie , His pale wan lippes , whilome so cherry red , Must from anothers fingers now be fed , Whose hungry appetite at times of meales , Was wont to gape and ring the kitchin peales , Like a young Swallow waiting for her dam , He now sits gaping while they doe him cram ; But which is worst , he turnes directly sot , His friends and seruants names he hath forgot . They which did sup with him but yester night , Before next morning are forgotten quite : Nay , his own children , flesh and bloud ( which came Out of his loines , bred by him ( fie for shame ! ) These are vnknowne , nay , he is so misled , That his owne heires are disinherited , And Phiale , that Witch , that common Whore , Gulles him , and turnes his children out of doore : And all the goods this doating foole ere got , Must fall at length vnto this harlots lot . A mischiefe on 't ! can it be prosperous , When old age dotes and must be lecherous ? No , no , gainst nature this is done , to spite her , And fortune certainely at length will right her . O is t not braue to see a foule ranke Goate , Hunting traine-sent vpon a peticoate ; To see an old deformed crooked Ramme , Raging with lust vpon a silly Lambe ? 'T is odious madnes , natures selfe doth hate it , And sense and reason doe abhominate it : Yet sense and reason here can doe no good , Nature disswades , but is not vnderstood . Hence she growes malecontent , & hanges the head , And seemes to liue , but she indeede is dead ; Nature and sense , and reason hence are gone , Madnesse and lust predominate alone . When age and lust , drie wood and fire do meet , How can the flame be quencht ? when did you see 't ? Thus to liue long , and then to be a foole , Grant it , O Iupiter to him that woole . But say that sense and wit remaine intire , And age and wisedome happily conspire , When strength and outward beauties are declin'd , Yet vertue still suruiueth in the mind , Is not this length of daies to be desired , As deepely wisht , as worthily admired ? Yes certainely : and yet this happy age Is but a scene vpon a tragicke stage ; While like a sad spectator he must see Life mixt with death , and ioy with miserie ; He liues indeed to see his kinred die , His brethren and his sisters destinie : But this most makes him weary of his life , Death lets him liue , but killes his deerest wife ; This is the paine which longer life attendes , Still to bewaile the fortune of its friends , To see ones house perpetually to wast , And to be spent and quite consum'd at last ; Onely himselfe , now like a man forlorne , Is left aliue their funerals to mourne , Vnhappie he must sorrow all alone , For all his friends alas are dead and gone . King Nestor ( if that Homer hath not lied ) Did liue three hundred yeeres before he died , Was he not happy , which from yeere to yeere So long together could his death deferre ? Counting his yeeres vpon his fingers ends , And drinke new wine so oft among his friends ? But marke , I pray , a while , and Nestor cries , And doth exclaime against the destinies Of too long life . How much did he complaine , When deare Antilochus his sonne was slaine ? How did he hate to liue , and wish to dy , When as his sonne was burnt , and he stood by ? Alas ( quoth he , and then he turnes about , And makes his mone to all the gazing rout ) . What haue I done ? Why doe the Gods me wrong , Against my will to let me liue so long ? Antilochus , Antilochus my sonne , Why doe I liue ? Alas , what haue I done ? Antilochus ! and with that word , amaine His teares burst out , his griefes begin againe ; So oft his speech doth faile , his words supprest With sighes and sobbes , which cannot be exprest : Onely he wrings his hands , lifts vp his eyes , And faine would speake , but can speake nought but whies . Why ? Why ? ( saith he ) O Why ? nay tell me Why ? Could he speake more , hee 'd say , Doe I not dy ? And thus old Peleus liued with griefe to see His sonne Achilles mournefull tragedy : And thus Laerta liued to heare men say , Her sonne Vl●sses ship was cast away . Had Priam died before the siege of Troy , He might haue met Assaracus with ioy , With great solemnitie and festiuals , His children had performed his funerals , And Hector and his brethren had him borne Vnto his graue , while all the people mourne ! Cassandra had gone weeping all before , And then Polyxena with garments tore . O had he died before that Paris went To build those ships which he for Helen sent ! Though this vntimely death might him displease , Yet had he gone into his graue with peace ; Then had he died , he should but once haue died , ( In length of daies , alas ! what good is spied ? ) But liuing longer , woe is me therefore ! He liues to die ten thousand deaths and more : He liues to see all spoil'd and ouerturned , Asia with fire and sword consum'd and burned , When like a souldier which with feare doth quake , He layes aside his Crowne , and Armes doth take , He flies , and on great Iupiter he calles , And downe before his altars dead he falles , Euen as an Oxe with age and toile quite done Vnder the yoke for wearinesse doth grone : So aged Priam ouercharg'd with woe , Fainted and fell and could no farther goe : And Hecuba his wife , which did suruiue , Till she was turned into a dogge , did liue . I haste vnto our owne , and will passe by The King of Pontus long-liu'd misery , And Craesus too , to whom wise Solon said , That till the end none could be happy made . Marius liu'd long , and suffered banishment , Cold irons , durance , and imprisonment , And in Minturnaes marshes hid his head , And at the losse of Carthage begd his bread ; This man ! O had he died , when he had led In triumph those whom he had conquered ; When all his warlike pompe had now been ended , Assoone as from his chariot he descended , Nature in earth , Rome neuer had possest A Citizen more fortunately blest . Campania did for Pompeies fame prouide , For with a Feuer there he should haue died , Had not the peoples prayers then preseru'd him , And for a worser after death reseru'd him : W●th Ciuill warre he did the Citie waste , Which from his body smote his head at last . Which punishment and death yet Lentulus Escap't , and Catiline and Cethegus , They were not cut or cast into the fire ; But being dead , their bodies were intire : For they were hang'd , forsooth , their throates were broke , And nothing but a halter did them choke . Next now the tender mother on her knees , When she but Venus Temple onely sees , Softly she prayes for beauty for her sonne : But for her daughter she will ne're haue done ; They both forsooth , must beare away the prize , And be admired and wooed by each mans eyes , Why should they not ? Did not faire Venus ioy , To see Dan Cupid , and to busse the boy ? Did not Latona smile , and laugh to see How beautifull Diana seemed to bee ? Yet though this beauty make the mother glad , So faire a face as once Lucretia had She doubts to wish ; she was too faire , alas ! Her ruine and her death her beauty was . Her beauty 't was which Tarquin did admire , Her beauty 't was which set his heart on fire . Her beauty 't was which brought him to her bed , Where for her beautie she was rauished , Which when she knew , she so abhor'd the deed , With her owne hands she made her own hart bleed . Virginia was as faire as faire might be , As faire as any Virgin Rome did see , But Rutila a cromp-backt monster was , And ill complexion'd , and deform'd her face , Then she , a fouler no where could be found , No beast so ougly liuing on the ground . And yet how oft did faire Virginia Wish in her heart , she were foule Rutila : That she could faces change , that she might be As Rutila , and Rutila as she . Oh if that this could euer haue been done ; And each could haue each others face put on . Virginia might haue liu'd and neere been eyed : Nor by her fathers hand at length haue died . But this was her vnhappie beauties fate , It was pursur'de with lust , far worse then hate . Graue Appius her beauty gins to note , And in the end must needs vpon her dote . Who would beleeue it ? Appius is a man That 's wise and stay'd ; who also wisely can From his experience younger men aduise : Who sayes that Appius loues Virginia , lies : For is not Appius old , Virginia young : Sweet is Virginias breath , but his like dung : Shee 's soft , hee 's hard , and how can these agree ? He may her father , she his daughter be . This Appius knowes , and this so kils his heart , That to himselfe scant dares he this impart , From others therefore he his thought doth hide , He would not for a world it were descride ; And yet for all it is so closely pent , His heart must breake , or he must giue it vent . Maugre his head this makes him sadly mone , And with deiected eyne walke all alone , Where he doth meditate , and mainely plot How for his lust Virginia may be got , Mean while he sighs , looks wild , & somtimes weeps , Forsakes his meate , and God knowes how he sleeps . Tokens of loue he sends and pretty gifts , And vseth twenty thousand other shifts : He still pursues her , wheresoere she goe Onely to talke and looke on her , no moe . But when he cannot come vnto her right , Vnder her window then he walkes in sight . When shee 's away ; how will he looke about ? What pretty trickes hee 'le vse to finde her out ? When being found , nought hath he else to say , But how doo'st pretty sweet Virginia ? Or tell some tale , or else himselfe commend Somewhat aloofe , for feare he might offend ; His loue ( he doubts ) she will not entertaine , Which makes him be afeard of speaking plaine , In a third person he his tale doth tell Lest she ( perhaps ) his ranker lust might smell , With deerest words of loue he doth her flatter , But dares not neerer come vnto the matter . Whereby much time in idle talke is spent In wanton courting , and in complement . Himselfe meane time growes flag and waxeth leane , And no man may suspect what this doth meane : A silent tongue he hath , but speaking eyes , Yet who saies Appius loues Virginia , lies . Fie Appius ! fie for shame ! ne're be so weake , What ! be fraid vnto a girle to speake ? How can'st thou thus endure to liue in paine ? And , where thou wilt not be deni'de , complaine : The man that spares to speake must spare to speed , Who will not speake , shall neuer doe the deed . Then Appius speake thy mind , and be a man ; And so he doth as much as silence can : For Appius ( if you aske him ) all denies : Who saith that Appius loues Virginia , lies . Appius is chiefe of the Decemuiri , And liues in glitter and authoritie : He couets mightily that he may please The common people , and enioy his ease , He punisheth and pardons as him list ; But many a fault in silence yet is hisht : To feare and flattery he doth encline , Which is the ruine of all discipline : To see a fault , and not to reprehend it , Doth often make a fault , but neuer mend it . Hence comes disorder , pride and luxurie , Discord , and in the end an anarchy ; Romes youth hereby become effeminate And dissolute , and scorne the magistrate . How can they chuse ? Let modesty auaunt , As long as Appius doth vse his haunt . If Appius loue ! how can the younger fry But liue and wallow in foule luxurie ? Why ? doth not Appius thus ( say they ) and thus , And shall it not be lawfull then for vs ? If Appius his Uirginia must haue , Some liberty , as well as he wee 'le craue . Thus when Superiours doe a fault commit , The people presently doe follow it . Their ill example hurts a great deale more , For all will follow , as they goe before . Meane while the Sabines such incursions make , That idle wanton Rome begins to quake ; Their men and cattell now are driuen away They to their enemies are made a prey . To Appius all this harme some doe impute : No maruell then , if Appius walke so mute , Barbatus railes vpon his gouernment : And this some say doth cause his languishment . Some one , and some another tale deuise , But who saies Appius loues Virginia , lies . Alas poore wench ! Virginia all this while Thinkes Appius like her selfe without all guile ; And therefore bids him welcome , and is glad When Appius comes , shee 's sory when hee 's sad : Good sir ( saith she ) why are you male-content ? Where are your stories and your merriment ? Which she doth speake with such simplicity , So harmelesly , and with such modesty , That though her gentlenesse inflame him more ; Yet her chast modest looke makes him giue o're : So that when he of purpose would impart His secret thought , he dares not for his heart : Sometimes he therefore knowes not what to say , But then hee le gaze , yet will not goe away . Anon some idle matter he pretends , Some wrong he hath receiued from his friends , He did not thinke they would haue vs'd him so , And such a one , but let that matter goe ; His answeres like his thoughts are torne and rent , And interrupted and impertinent . He sees shee 's chast , and should he talke of loue , Out of the way ( perhaps ) she would remoue ; So might he loose her company and sight , And this would kill him and vndoe him quite : And therefore to preuent such misery , On any termes hee 'le haue her company . By this way then no good is to be done , Some other course must therefore be begun ; Which he so carries in such subtill wise , That who saith Appius loues Virginia , lies . But loue encreasing , hatcheth fearelesse lust , And lust proceeds to fury . Appius must Enchaunt Virginia with some philtrous drug , And for to second it looke trim and smug : Her vncle Numitorius must be made Hot Appius pandor , and he must perswade His neece Virginia to come off and yeeld : Thus Appius hopes at length to win the field , Thus must it be ( saith Appius ) Numitorius , Must first be made , and then Virginius . And Numitorius hee must write or speake , And all the matter to Virginia breake : Perchance at first the motion will distast , But yet I doubt not to preuaile at last , Faire promises and importunitie Will make her wearie of her chastitie , And i l'e pursue her closely at an inch , Let her say what she will , I will not flinch : Shee 'le say that I am foggy & too old , Her vncle then shall tell her of my gold , And of my office the Decemuirate , And what a ioynture I will to her state . I am not faire indeed , nor am I foule , Nor doe I alwaies smile , nor alwaies scowle , Good meate I loue , and good clothes I put on , Shee knowes I am a boone companion , And hath not many a one more old then I Enioy'd as young as she full merily ? Why should I not then hope and hopefull wooe , And see what Numitorius will doe ? Those and a thousand other tricks he tries , Yet who saies Appius loues Virginia , lies . But Numitorius is too wise a man , And Appius here must faile , doe what he can ; What then ? is here an end ? is Appius spent ? No no : Virginiaes father must be sent Vnto the warres ; and then when hee 's away , Appius assures himselfe to haue the prey : For Claudius straight , a Client of his owne , He sends ; and vnto him anon makes knowne His minde , coniuring him to secrecy , And then instructs him for the villanie . T' is so ( saith he ) I must Virginia haue , And thou must challenge her to be thy slaue , And bid her follow thee , tut ! let her weepe , Take thou her home , and there thou shalt her keep , Say that she neuer was Virginius child , But that thou wa'st of her long since beguild : She in thy house was born and stollen from thence : And vntill now did'st neuer see her since . If she resist , bring her by force to me , And thou shalt haue her home I warrant thee . Now Claudius hath his errand and is gone , And with Virginia he meets anon . Whom rudely he begins to apprehend , And tels her that 't is bootlesse to contend : Whereat her nurse and she with feare cry out Which made the people all come in a rout : Who when they had but heard Uirginias name , They all cry out on Claudius , fie for shame ! And round about they stand in her defence , So that she now is safe from violence : Saith Claudius then : I pra'y be still , t' is so Along with me Virginia must goe , She is my slaue , I doe not doe her wrong , That which I doe i 'le iustifie ere long , Before the Iudge the matter shall be knowne , And you shall see I onely seeke mine owne . Forthwith he brings her whereas Appius sate , And there begins the matter to relate , ( Which Appius knew sufficiently before ) And Claudius now doth earnestly implore His aide , craues iustice , that he may haue right , And that he be not ouerborne by might ; She is not daughter to Virginius , But doth belong to me Marke , Claudius : And if Virginius doe not say the same , Let me be punish't then and beare the blame : Meane while I say she is my slaue , and so She ought in reason home with me to goe . Nay ! ( say her aduocates ) alas yet stay ! Her father in the warres is now away , Within these two dayes he may well be here , If any will but send a messenger , And t' is vniust ( he absent ) to contend , That he his daughter present should defend ; Wherefore they beg of Appius that the doome Might be deferred vntill her father come , And that ( according to his owne decree ) Till then Virginia might be counted free , And not to hazard her Virginitie , Before shee 's iudged to loose her libertie . Saith Appius , Then the Law which you commend Doth shew how much I haue been freedoms friend , And now as you desire , I am content , That for Virginius some man may be sent , And to deferre the sentence till he come : But Claudius meane time must haue her home , So that he promise to returne her here , Assoone as ere Uirginius shall appeare . Hereat , alas ! Virginia gins to cry ; The people murmur , but none dare reply . At length her Vncle Numitorius And ( he to whom she was betroath'd ) Icilius , These hastily come crowding through the presse , And call vpon fell Appius for redresse : But Appius cries againe , Take them away , Sentence is past , and they haue nought to say . Nought ? saith Icilius , Yes : and moughtst thou know 'T is such a tale shall make thy eares to glow : Threats cannot driue me hence or hide thy lust , Who takes me hence , doe it by force he must . Know Appius that Virginia is my Spouse , And ere that Claudius get her to his house , Yee Gods and men ! marke what Icilius faith , He 'il sooner loose his life , then breake his faith . The people feare lest this his vehemence Should hurt Virginia , and the Iudge incense ; For now the Lictors round about him get , Yet after all they dare no more but threat . So powerfull is the strength of innocence , That it doth curbe the rage of violence , A wicked conscience when it is most bold Is but a coward , and it's courage cold . Goe to , saith Appius , you Icilius , Would seeme to patronize Virginius , But 't is another matter makes you chat , You would be Tribune sir : say , would you not ? And to make way to your ambition , You thinke it best to raise sedition : But you shall faile for once of your intent , And for to day Claudius shall be content To leaue his right ; Virginia home shall goe Not for your sake Icilius , thinke not so : But for Virginius sake who absent is , And for the name of father , more then this . Meane while ( Icilius , you and such as you : ) I tell you this : and you shall find it true , If that Virginius by to morrow day Appeare not here ; know that I know the way , Nor want I meanes or power my selfe alone , To crush the Authors of sedition . Thus for the present is the Court dismist , He for Virginius may goe who list . But Appius staies a while till they be gone , Least he might seeme t' haue sate for this alone . Virginius friends in sending are not slack . Appius meane while plots how to keepe him back . Icilius brother straight without delay , And Numitorius sonne doe post away . But what doth Appius now ? he doth not sleepe , He writes to his Collegues , that they should keepe Virginius there , nor giue him leaue to part Till they did heare from him , this was his art . But this , as it fell out , did not succeede , His letters came to late to doe the deede ; For at first watch Virginius went his way , But Appius letters came not till next day : When as Virginius so fast doth wend , That by this time he 's at his iournies end , Where he doth find his louely daughter fate , In mourning habite all disconsolate , With griefe and thought so pin'd away and worne , That now she seem'd not what she was beforue ; She that was erst so faire , with grieuous mone , Now looks like death , she 's nought but skin & bone Her meate and sleepe she doth forgoe and why ? Because she will not liue , but faine would dy . But all in vaine ; Appius by breake of day , Towards his seate of Iustice takes his way , Where all the Citie at the barre doth stand , And still expects Virginius out of hand , The common people lou'd Virginius well , When will he come ( say they ) pray' can you tell , Come , come way Virginius , quickly come . Yonder he is , saith one , I pray' make roome ; Whereat the people euery one lookes out , And on his tip-toes castes his eye about , Each ouer t'others head doth seeke and spie , If he see any man approching nie , Which if he doe , as farre as he can see , O now he comes ( saith he ) sure this is he : So soone men credit to affection giue ; For , what men wish , they willingly beleeue . But Appius thinkes he 's safe enough for that , When loe ! vnlookt for , oportunely pat , In comes Virginius , Appius bends his brow , A mischiefe ( saith he ) on Virginius now : But sad Uirginius like a man forlorne , With many Matrons which with him did mourne , In sordide and neglected weedes doth bring His lambe-like daughter to the butchering . The doubtfull people round about them presse , And all lament and pitie their distresse . Virginius at length thus weeping said : Good sirs ! I beg not , but require your aid , For you , your wiues and children in the warres My life I haue expos'd , receiued these skarres , And for all this , shall this be my reward ? Shall I my daughter loose without regard ? My dearest childe , the onely childe I haue , Shall she by violence be made a slaue ? Thus to the people did Virginius crie , And made his mone to all as he past by : Icilius also told them all the same , Whereat they wept and murmurd , and cried shame : But cruell Appius mou'd with no remorse ( Such is lusts rage ) became a great deale worse , Vp to his iudgement seate he soone ascends , Where he all right and equitie pretends , And Claudius now demaundes his slaue againe , And of their wrong that keepe her doth complaine : But ere that he could any farther hie , Or that Virginius could make replie . Enraged Appius swolne with lust and wroth Doth burst in twaine and interrupts them both : This brall of yours ( saith he ) doth me offend , Take her home Claudius , and there 's an end . What though Virginius and the youth repine , She is thy slaue , take her I say , she 's thine . At first the people each on other gazed , And at the horror of it stand amazed , And Claudius boldly in his hands her hent : But sadly all the people did lament , Virginius knowes not what to say , but stands And to the people stretcheth out his hands , Who after he had wept , with sorrow thus , He cries aloud to wicked Appius : My daughter , Appius ! is no slaue , but free , Her haue I giuen to Icilius , not to thee ; And I haue brought her vp still heretofore To be a wife , but not to be a whore . What ? shall we liue like beasts promiscuously , Without distinction in foule luxurie ? O● age and sexe shall no regard be bad ? Shall each man by his beastly lust be lad ? If these ( the people here ) shall this permit , Others I know which will not suffer it . With this the women doe together band , And round about Virginia they stand , They driue Marc Claudius away , and cry , No● let her goe , she shall haue liberty . Hearing this noise , the Crier bids them peace , And Appius beckens to them for to cease . Which done , and silence made , in sullen wise , Thus subtill Appius to the people cries : Icilius spake his pleasure yesterday , And tell me now what doth Virginius say ; Doth not he raile and rage as much as he ? If not sedition , what then may this be ? But more then this here in the Citie they Haue met at night , they sham'd to meet by day , So that I must thus guarded hither come For preseruation of the peace of Rome . I come not here to wrong the innocent , But to suppresse their purpose and intent . Lictor make roome , remoue the company , And let the Master and his slaue passe by . This spake he angerly , and with that word Backe went the people of their owne accord : So that Virginia can no longer stay , To lust and violence she 's made a pray . Her selfe poore heart ! for pittie seemes to wooe , Her father knowes not what to say or doe : But downe vpon his knees poore man he falles , And weepes , and cries , for helpe and pitie calles : Now Appius ! take pitie on my woe , Let not my onely childe thus from me goe , Forgiue my hasty words ; I was dismaid , And in my griefe I knew not what I said , Impute it to the weakenesse of my age , To my affection . O let this asswage The rigour of thy sentence , heare me speake , Doe not with sorrow cause my heart to breake . I am the wofullest wight that e're did liue , I know not what to doe : Appius forgiue ! Indeed I was too blame , and yet alas She is my daughter , I her father was : Her father was ? What am I not so still ? Why doe I liue ? this word my heart doth kill . Yet giue me leaue to take her nurse aside To aske her this , by her I will be tride ; That so if falsely I thus termed be , I shall then part with her more willingly , And let the wench goe with vs ; let me die ! If so I doe not bring her by and by . I will not goe farre hence , not out of sight , I will but onely aske of her the right . Appius could not denie this small request , But lets them goe : Virginius much distrest , Looking about anon he had espide A butchers stall , and thitherward he hied , Where being come , he cries and weepes amaine , Lookes on his daughter , and then weepes againe : My onely ioy ! my deerest childe ( quoth he ) What shall I doe ? how shall I set thee free ? Shall I ? no , no : I am her father , I : But shall she be a slaue ? first mought she die ! Sooner I 'le murder her while she is chast , Then be the father of a whore at last . But then returning to his child againe ; Now God forbid ! ( saith he ) she should be slaine ! How saist ? sweet girle ! ( and then he gan to crie , Surely ( saith he ) the wench is loath to die ) ; Now tel me prety heart ! which hadst thou rather That Claudius were thy Lord , or I thy father , I alwaies lou'd thee dearely , did I not ? Yes wench , I did , it cannot be forgot ? What was the pleasure thou desiredst most , But I would get it , whatsoere it cost ? Nothing me thought could be too much for thee , For thou wa'st all my hearts felicitie : I cannot tell ( if thou to Claudius goe ) Whether that Claudius will loue thee so . Say , wilt thou liue with Claudius or with me ? His slaue hee 'le make thee , but i 'le keepe thee free . The silent girle with feare doth trembling stand , And still doth eye her fathers busie hand . She answeres not a word , but sighes and gaspes , And in her griping armes her father clasps . Into his bosome she with teares doth flie , As if , she said , good father , let me die , Rather then liue with Claudius as his slaue , And loose Icilius which to me you gaue . The good old man now layes his necke on hers And all her bosome with his teares he blurs . And then he kisseth her , and then he cries , And then doth gaze vpon her blubbred eyes , Poore wench ( quoth hee ) thou shalt not bee their slaue , I 'le sooner see thee laid full low in graue : Yea that I will ; I will my pretty soule , Rather then thou shalt suffer their controule , I 'le take such order that thou shalt escape , I will deceiue them of their wicked rape ; O God! saith he , now tell me , i's t not best ? And then he wept and kist his daughters breast , No no , it is not : i's t not ? yes ; what ? kill her ? Yes rather then these lustfull beasts shall spill her : But is she not thy flesh and blood , thy child ? Yes that she is ; but shall she be defil'de ? And is she not thine only child , thine heire ? Looke in her face , how sai'st ? is she not faire ? Yes ▪ too too faire , I would she were not so , Her beautie is the cause of all my woe . And who can euer so hard-hearted be As hurt Virginia , if he doe her see ? How then can I her farher doe the deed , I cannot doo 't , I cannot see her bleed : Shee 's all the children , all the ioy I haue : Her health is mine , her life my life doth saue : Where shall I haue more children when shee 's gone ? Or if I could , like her , I can haue none . Shee 's the best daughter father euer had , She is so pretty : O I shall be mad . Appius and Claudius , out you stinking goates ! O that the people will not cut your throtes ! You shamelesse letchers , shall she sate your lust ? I 'le kill her first ; O doe not ! but I must . And with that word , he snatcheth from the stall , The butchers knife , and stabs her therewithall : Then turning to the iudgement seate he cries , Thus , Appius ! for thy sake Virginia dies : Vpon thy head her blood I consecrate , She shall not be a slaue thy lust to sate : Before she should be prostitute to thee , This haue I done , thus haue I set her free . Vpon this fact a hideous cry arose , Take him ( saith Appius ) ere he farther goes . But now Virginius with his knife in hand , So made his way , that none could him withstand , Away he flies and gets without the gate , And then to apprehend him t' was too late : Indeed , the people for him made a lane , They iou'd him so , they would not haue him ta'ne . Meane while Icilius , sad Icilius , And dead - Virginiaes vncle Numitorius , Tooke vp the body of this murthered wight And laid it out to all the peoples sight : All pale and gastly now shee lookes alas , Who erst so beautifull and louely was : Sad was the spectacle , sad was the cry Of all the people that were standing by : Some do commend , some blame Virginius : Some pity him , and some Icilius ; Of Appius and of Claudius all complaine , Their rape and lust haue poore Uirginia slaine . For whom the multitude so sore lament , As if their teares and plaints would he're be spent : Alas Virginia ! hard was thy fare , And thy admired face vnfortunate ! Had'st thou been soule , or not so passing faire , We needed not with cries thus fill the aire : Thy beauty t' was which did thee so commend , And t' was thy beauty brought thee to thy end . Beautie 's a rose whose colours are most faire , Whose precious odours doe perfume the aire : Yet to it selfe is neither faire nor sweet , But onely vnto those who smel't or see 't . Men for this cause plucke roses from the tree , Because so sweet and beautifull they be : While as the nettle and the dock doe stand , And grow vntouch't by any enuious hand . The proper man ( they say ) the worst luck hath , Whereas deformitie is free from scath . The faire fac'd boy doth make his mother glad , But care and feare of him , still makes her sad . It is a louely boy , now God him blesse : Yet then she weepes vpon him nere'thelesse . To catch this prettinesse such baits are laid , As alwaies make the parents hearts afraid . Beauty and chastity we hardly find Together , or a faire face and faire mind . Though parents bring their children vp at home Vnder their eye , and neuer let them rome , Where ill behauiour they might see or learne : Though like the Sabines they be ne're so sterne . Nay say that natures selfe with a free hand Hath gi'n them wit enough to vnderstand What 's good , and hath dispos'd them vertuously , Gi'n them ablushing cheeke , a modest eye ; When nature thus hath ble'st them with her store , ( What can a fathers care or loue doe more ? ) Yet then their cocker'd chicke , their tidling sonne , Before he be a man must be vndone . Prodigious lust becomes a prodigall , And for to get his purpose , spendeth all . Nay such his confidence is in his coine , That he the parents hearts hopes to purloine : Hereby he hopes they will be both so awde , That he will be the pandor , she the bawde . Neuer was tyrant yet , that ere would geld , That boy in whom he beauties want beheld . Nero ne're lou'd that boy whose feet were club'd , Whose panch was bost , whose scabby fists were scrubd , Alas ! faire boy ! thou in thy beauties pride Do'st little wot what dangers thee abide ! This youth becomes a knowne adulterer , And all those threats and punishments doth feare Which angry husbands full of iealousie Inflict on those which doe them iniurie . Wiser then Mars this youth was neuer yet That he should neuer fall into the net . Wherefore then Mars he must not happier be , And Mars was taken at his Venery ; And then this rage , this ielousie will haue More right then law to wrong yet euer gaue : It murthers somtimes , and doth somtimes teare The flesh with whips and rowels without feare . O but your feat Endymion ne're the lesse Shall be a stallion to some matronesse , And if Seruilia with crownes him wooe , ( Although he loue her not , he 'le be hers too , For which , foule she ( rather then he shall lacke ) Will strip and sell her clothes from off her backe ; What i's t which any woman can denie To this faire Sir , to haue his company . Oppia Catulla be it , true t' is still , She is a woman and she 'le haue her will : The neediest woman here , and she that 's worst , Will in this case be free , in bountie first . But what ? in beauty we no harme can finde , If there be chastitie lodg'd in the minde . T' is true ; immodest beauty is a snare , Where fond affections soone surprised are . The fairest beauty void of chastity , Is soone conuerted into brothelrie . At first such beauties ( hauing gotten fame ) Are spectacles of loue , at last of shame : And modest beauties scant haue better ends , Wer 't not that chastity their fame defends . But otherwise alas ! their fortunes still Vnhappie are , attended with some ill . Faire was Hippolytus , and full of grace , Courteous and temperate , and chast he was : Thus did beliue and thus he vow'd to die , He would not lose his maiden chastity . But did this profit him ? did there hence grow Ought that was good ? no ; but his ouerthrow . Phaedra his fathers wife , and his step-mother , Did fall in loue with him aboue all other ; And woo'd him oft , and oft his patience tride , He oft refus'd , and oft her sute denide . Whereat she blush't to see her selfe disdained , But her affection cunningly she fained , She now doth wish that she had neuer spoke , Or that she could againe her words reuoke ; Her loue she now turnes into mortall hate , And all her thoughts reuenge doe meditate . Poyson she thinks on , or some murthering knife , Can she not haue his loue , she 'le haue his life ? Which to effect , her busie mind anon , This subtill stratagem hath thought vpon ; She tels her husband how Hippolytus His sonne , would haue abus'd her thus , and thus . Theseus on this , could not himselfe containe , Harmelesse Hippolytus must needs be slaine . The father followes , and the sonne doth fly , And yet Hippolytus scant knoweth why . Yet on his horses runne , vntill at last Vpon a rocke his Chariot wheeles they brast , Whereas himselfe was drag'd and torne asunder : He was too faire , too chast ; it was no wonder . Bellerophon was likewise in this case , For he was faire and had a louely face , King Praetus wife , that Sthenobaea hight , Growes fond , and in his beauty takes delight : By circumstances she at first doth proue him , At last she plainly saith that she doth loue him . Bellerophon would faine himselfe excuse , His friend King Praetus he may not abuse . He modestly denies her foule request , But she conceiues fell vengeance in her breast : She tels her husband how Bellerophon Would haue dishonour'd her ; he thereupon With letters sends Bellerophon away , Letters which did Bellerophon betray . Thus these ; Both women , when they could not haue What they did loue , with hate began to raue . A woman most of all is mercilesse , When to her hate shame addes maliciousnesse . Silius is faire in Messalina'es eye , So that She doates on Silius out of cry : Now Messalina is Claud's Emperesse , And will not this her loue her Silius blesse ? Speake thy opinion which would'st thou chuse , Or take her loue , or else her loue 〈◊〉 . Silius is perelesse faire , most ver●●●●● , And well descended of a noble house : Yet wretched he is ta'ne , and made to die , In Messalina'es presence , in her eye , While she doth sit drest in her little vaile , And like a Virgin bride bids him all haile : Her costly purple coloured marriage bed , Within her Garden on the ground is spred , In dowry as the ancient manner is , There shall be gi'n a thousand sesterties , He which is marriage ioynes their wedded hands Stands by : with those which seale & firme the bands . Which thou didst secret think , knowne but to few As if she were ashamed her selfe to shew : No , she 'ile not married be but lawfully , And why then should it not be publikely ? Now tell me which thou likest ? what wilt thou do ? If thou yeeld not , when thus she doth thee wooe , Looke to thy selfe she by some wicked slight Will doe thee mischiefe sure ere it be night : But if thou dost without delay the thing . Knowne to the world , in Claudius eares will ring . When this disgracethrough each mans mouth hath past , Alas good man Claudius shall know it last . Meane while , doe thou thy Messaline obey , And sport and reuell with her night and day : For tie all one , now thou hast done the wrong , Claudius of force , must heare of it ere long , And then , wer 't thou farre fairer then thou art , Of his displeasure thou must feele the smart . Thy milke white necke must stoope vnto the block , And yeeld it selfe vnto the fatall stroke . Thus may we see , those things which men think good Are nothing so , if rightly vnderstood . What then ? shall therefore men for nothing craue ? Soft ! if thou seeke and wouldst my counsell haue ; Doc thus : seeke to those heauenly powers aboue , Leaue all to them , for sure they doe vs loue , Let God see first , what doth agree with vs , What shall be fit , and most commodious . God doth not giue according to our wit For pleasant things , he giues vs what most fit . Deerer is man to him , then man can be Vnto himselfe ; yet blind and wretched we , Carried away by force of our owne mind , ( Mighty is lust , sense brutish , reason blind ) , A wooing do we goe , but in such sort , As if we went vnto our brothel sport , Red hot with lust , ranker then any Goat , Or any ship that still in salt doth float . With glaring eies we stare vpon our loues , And looke them through and through while lust vs moues . Why should we not ? we hope it is no sinne But loue ; yea , yea , le ts aske our hearts within : At night our thought , our nose doth hunt by day , We talke and talke , and yet we nothing say . A mischiese on this lust ! but most of all On lust , which honestie it selfe doth call . This thought doth gull vs so , we thinke all 's well , Find fault who will , all 's one , here will we dwell . This vgly thought makes blushes impudent , And honest houres in lustfulnesse be spent . It makes ranke garlikes stinking hoarie head Grow greene againe , and liue though almost dead , O that I did that mould and garden keepe ! Where this foule garlike lusts to lodge and sleepe ! How would I teare it vp ? How would I rend It's blade , ere it my garden should offend . It should not with his breath my nose disease , It should not with its sight mine eies displease . I should soone bring its sprouting blade fullow , And send it to some other place to grow : Away ranke stinke , away ! get thee to those Like to thy selfe , but grow not neere the Rose ! A mischiefe On 't ! can any thinke it fit , That Garlike in a Roses lap should sit ? Garlike must needes o'recome and kill the Rose , Prickles cannot defend it from such foes . If wedded true loue twixt these euer be , Let sweete and sowre , old age and youth agree . But all in vaine , this clouen Garlike head Madded with lust , cannot be answered . There let it grow then , if it needes must be , Yet pretie Rose still shall I pity thee , For thou must needes be quickly withered , And woe is me ! anon thou wilt be dead , Then all too late thou wilt repent the houre , Thou hadst not ioyn'd thee to some sweeter flower ; Then shalt thou see for all thy subtill wit , That all that is desired is not fit . Women doe husbands , men doe wiues desire , And such and such they earnestly require , And when they haue them , straight without delay , For sonnes and daughters they begin to pray . God onely knowes , meane time what c●e we craue , What wife and children euery man shall haue , Wedding and hanging go by destinie , And what a man must haue , he cannot flie . But that thou maist aske something , and obtaine it , Vnto the Temple get thee , ne're refraine it , Looke on the entrailes of some beast and vow , And search the puddings of some slaughterd sow . Pray that within thy body sound and whole , There may be lodged a sound and wholsome soule ; Pray for a mind that 's braue and valiant , Whom feare of death as yet could neuer daunt , Who mongst rich natures greatest benefits , Accounts that time when life and world he quits : Knowing that while he liues he still doth die , But when he dies he liues immortally . Who in meane time , come whatsoeuer will , Or toile or labour , he endures it still , He knowes not how to chafe , he couets nought , His mind to basenesse neuer can be brought . The toiles and trauels of great Horcules , He doth preferre before dull stupid ease , Or wantonnes , or feasting , or discourse , Sardanapalus is a beast and worse . But let me shew what thou thy selfe maist giue , One way there is no more , in peace to liue , Wherein thou mai'st liue most contentedly , And that is , if thou shalt liue vertuously : Fortune auaunt , were men but onely wise , Thou had'st not power on them to tyrannize , And yet a Goddesse of thee we must make , And giue thee leaue in heauen a place to take . Thou art a Goddesse and in heauen we place thee : But were men wise , they out of heauen would chace thee . Laus Deo . Matritae Sept. 5. 1612. stilo vet. — pictoribus atque poëtis Quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa potestas . — Veniam petimúsque damúsque vicissim . W. B. FINIS .