|
| And now they joyn'd, keeping some quality * |
| Of every past shape; she knew treachery, |
| Rapine, deceit, and lust, and ils enough |
| To be a woman. Themech she is now, |
| Sister and wife to Cain, Cain that first did plow. |
|
| LII. |
|
| Who ere thou beest that read'st this sullen Writ |
| Which just so much courts thee; as thou dost it, |
| Let me arrest thy thoughts; wonder with me |
| Why plowing, building, ruling and the rest, |
| Or most of those arts, whence our lives are blest, |
| By cursed Cains race invented be, |
| And blest Seth vext us with Astronomy. |
| There's nothing simply good, nor ill alone, |
| Of every quality comparison |
| The only measure is, and judge Opinion. |
|
| HOLY SONNETS, |
|
| La Corona. |
|
| 1. Deign at my hands this crown of prayer and praise, |
| Weav'd in my lone devout melancholy, |
| Thou which of good, hast, yea art treasurie, |
| All changing unchang'd, Ancient of dayes, |
| But do not with a vile crown of frail bayes, |
| Reward my Muses white sinceritie, |
| But what thy thorny crown gain'd, that give me, |
| A crown of Glory, which doth flowre alwayes,
|
[CW: The] |