more againe (saies she) great king,
I know you can do much, and all this to,
But tell me when we loose so deere a thing,
Shame can we take pride in, in publike shew:
Think you the adulterate owle, then wold not so?
No, no, nor state, nor honor can repure,
Dishonor'd sheet's, nor lend the owle daies wing
Ignoble shame a King cannot recure.

44

Now say mine eies & cheeks are faire, what then?
Why so are yours, yet do I dote on you?
Beauty is blacke, defam'd by wicked men,
And yet must euery beauty make men sue?
Too good is worse then bad, you seeme too true
Too easie, passionate, loue-sicke, and kinde,
Then blame not me, that cannot so soone ren
Your course: the fault is in your forward minde.

45

But say great prince, I had a wanton eye,
Would you adde _Syrius_ to the sommer sunne?
And whurle hote flaming fire where tow doth lie
By which combustion all might be vndone?
For loke how mightier greater Kings do run
Amisse, the fault is more pernicious,
And opens more to shame and obloquy,
Then what we erre in, or is done by vs.

46

A Monarch, and a mighty Conquerour
To doate, proues euery woman is his better,
But I'le be true to thee (said he:) One houre
(Said she;) but what for truth, when it is fitter
We keepe our own, then haue a doubtful debter.
But I will sweare, said he: So _Iason_ did,
Replide faire _Hiren_, yet who faithlesse more,
or more inconstant to his sworne loues bed?

47

Too many mirrors haue we to behold,
Of mens inconstancy, and womens shame.
How many margent notes can we vnfold,
Mourning for virgins that haue bene too blame?
And shall I then run headlong to the flame?
I blush, but it is you should be ashamed,
For know, if that you neuer haue beene told,
"Vertue may be inforc'd, but not defamed.

48

Faire louely Prince, let warre your triumphs be,
Go forward in the glittering course you run,
The kingly Eagle strikes through _Atomie_,
Those little moates that barre him from the Sun,
Then let not both of vs be here vndone,
You of your Conquest, I of Chastitie.
And pardon my rude specch, for lo you see,
I plead for life, and who's not loath to dye?

49

Death of my fame, which oft proues mortal death
Witnesse the Prince-forc'd chaste _Lucretia_,
E