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EVEN as the
Doe burne their winges and fall into the fire:
So, those too muche on gallant showes that gaze,
Are captiues caught, and burne in their desire:
And suche as once doe feele this inwarde warre,
Thoughe they bee cur'de, yet still appeares the scarre.
For wanton LOVE althoughe hee promise ioies,
Yet hee that yeeldes in hope to finde it true,
His pleasures shalbee mated with annoyes;
And sweetes suppos'de, bee mix'd, with bitter rue:
Bicause, his dartes not all alike, doe wounde:
For so the frendes of coye
They lou'd, shee loth'de: they crau'd, shee still deni'de.
They sigh'd, shee songe: they spake, shee stopt her eare.
They walk'd, shee satte: they set, awaye shee hi'de.
Lo this their bale, which was her blisse, you heare.
O loue, a plague, though grac'd with gallant glosse,
For in thy seates a snake is in the mosse.
Then stoppe your eares, and like
The
The Crocodile, hathe treason in her teares.
In gallant fruicte, the core is ofte decay'd;
Yea poison ofte in cuppe of goulde assay'd.
But, if you like of
Yet if you like, how most to liue in rest,
lib. 7. cap. 22. &