:
Since then the _Baies_ so well thy forehead knewe
To Venus mirtles yeelded haue their place:
Trumpets to pipes: field tents to courtly bowers:
Launces and Pikes to daunces and to feastes.
Since then, o wretch! in stead of bloudy warres
Thou shouldst haue made vpon the Parthian Kings
For Romain honor filde by _Crassus_ foile,
Thou threw'st thy Curiace off, and fearfull healme,
With coward courage vnto _AEgipts_ Queen
In haste to runne, about her necke to hang
Languishing in her armes thy Idoll made:
In summe giuen vp to _Cleopatras_ eies.
Thou breakest at length from thence, as one encharm'd
Breakes from th'enchaunter that him strongly helde.
For thy first reason (spoyling of their force
the poisned cuppes of thy faire Sorceres)
Recur'd thy sprite: and then on euery side
Thou mad'st againe the earth with Souldiours swarme.
All Asia hidde: Euphrates bankes do tremble
To see at once so many Romanes there
Breath horror, rage, and with a threatning eye
In mighty squadrons crosse his swelling streames.
Nought seene but horse, and fier sparkling armes:
Nought heard but hideous noise of muttring troupes.
The _Parth_, the _Mede_, abandoning their goods
Hide them for feare in hilles of _Hircanie_,
Redoubting thee. Then willing to besiege
The great _Phraate_ head of _Media_,
Thou campedst at her walles with vaine assault,
Thy engins fit (mishap!) not thither brought.
So long thou stai'st, so long thou doost thee rest,
So long thy loue with such things nourished
Reframes, reformes it selfe and stealingly
Retakes his force and rebecomes more great.
For of thy Queene the lookes, the grace, the woords,
Sweetenes, alurements, amorous delights,
Entred againe thy soule, and day and night,
In watch, in sleepe, her Image follow'd thee:
Not dreaming but of her, repenting still
That thou for warre hadst such a Goddes left.
Thou car'st no more for _Parth_, nor _Parthian_ bow,
Sallies, assaults, encounters, shocks, alarmes,
For diches, rampiers, wards, entrenched grounds:
Thy only care is sight of _Nilus_ streames,
Sight of that face whose guilefull semblant doth
(Wandring in thee) infect thy tainted hart.
Her absence thee besottes: each hower, each hower
Of staie, to thee impatient seemes an age.
Enough of conquest, praise thou deem'st enough,
If soone enough the bristled fieldes thou see
Of fruitfull _AEgipt_, and the str