deth glory to the meanst attire?
What if she went in her loose flagging haire,
Spread at his full length, that the Easterne winde
Might tie loue-knots for _Cupid_ to vntwinde,
With some trasparent garment ore her skin,
Through which her naked glory might be seene:
Then as _Diana_ a hunting might she goe;
But she nor needs her arrowes nor a bow:
For all the beasts that should but see her passe,
With w[=o]dring straight would leaue the perled grasse
And feed their eyes, while with her snowy hand
She take what beasts she please; nor more command
Needs she to keepe them: for her iuory palme
Commandeth more than any iron chaine.
But now she's come, at whose thrise radiant light
As all amazd he shunnes her glorious sight,
Like those which long in darke, chance to espie
A candles glimmering, if it come but nie,
Can not endure that weake and feeble shine,
But straightway shut their dim and dazled eine.
No maruell then, though in great extasie
His spirits are, at glittring maiestie.
She feares the worst, and to her Louer skips,
Claps his plumpe cheeks, and beats his corall lips,
And seeing him fall breathlesse to the earth,
She seeks with kisses to inspire his breath.
At last his eye-lids he vp heaues againe,
And feeling her sweet kisses, gins to faine;
Shuts his bright eyes, and stops his rosie breath,
And for her kisses counterfeits his death.
With that poore _Licia_ both her hands vpholds,
And those let fall, her wofull armes enfolds,
With cast vp eyes in labour with her teares,
Which ioy did weep for woe to leaue those spheares
Which downe her face made paths vnto her necke,
And setling there shewd like a carquenet;
Anon she teares her haire, away it flings,
Which twining on her fingers shewd like rings;
Then she assayes to speake, but sighs and teares
Eats vp her words and multiplies her feares.
Why wert thou borne (quoth she) to die so soone,
And leaue the world poore of perfection;
Or why did high heauen frame thee such a creature,
So soone to perish: o selfe-hurting Nature,
Why didst thou suffer death to steale him hence,
Who was thy glory and thy excellence.
What are the Roses red, now he is gone,
But like the broke sparks of a diamond,
Whose scattred pieces shadow to the eye
What the whole was, and adde to miserie?
Such this faire casket of a fairer iem,
Whose beautie matchlesse now, what was it then
W