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But nothinge could his manlie harte procure,
The face, he lik'de: the nether parte, did loathe:
For womans shape, and fishes had they bothe.
Which shewes to vs, when Bewtie seekes to snare,
The carelesse man, whoe dothe no daunger dreede,
That he shoulde flie, and shoulde in time beware,
And not on lookes, his fickle fancie feede:
Suche Mairemaides liue, that promise onelie joyes,
But hee that yeldes, at lengthe him selffe distroies.
In vos armatus aut amor insiliet.
Cui contrà musae, verba haec age dicito marti:
Aliger huc ad nos non volati ille puer.
lib. 5. &
dius
Metamorph.
Illectos nautas
dulci modulami-
ne vocis,
Mergebant
auidae fluctibus
Ioniis.
sticon sic per
noem
sum.