THE GHOST of Lucrece By T. M. Gent. AT LONDON Printed by Valentine Simmes 1600. TO THE RIGHT HONOrable and my very bountiful good Lord my Lord Compton T. M. wisheth the fruit of eternall fruition Comptus honos honor est Comptono Compton honore THou that rock'st comely honour in thine armes Thou patrâ—â— to the child-house of my vayne Thou hiue vnto the Museshony swarmes And Godfather to th' issue of my braine To thee Baptizer of mine infant lines With golden water in a siluer Font Thy bountie gold thy fingerâ— siluer twines Siluering my papers inke as they were wont To thee the bloudy Christall of a Ghost Wrapt in a fierie web I spin to thee To thee the thawer of Dianaes frost Tarquin the hotte in Lucrece Tragedie To thee I consecrate these ashie fires She quencht in bloud he burnt in his desires Bound by your Ho. bounty T. M. Castissimo purissimoque Lucretiae Spiritui Thomas Medius Grauis Tonus primum Surge vociferat Tu castitatis imago Surgito Tarquinium Phlegetontis imagine notuÌ„ Noscito Tu caeptis nam te mutauit illum Adspirato meis postremo tempore mundi Ad su a perpetuum deducito crimina carmen Castissimo Spiritui tuo addictissimus T. M. The Prologue REach me a quill from the white Angells wings My paper from the Via Lactea My inck from Ioues-high Nectar-flowing-springs My Muse from Vesta Awake Rhamnusia Call vp the Ghost of gor'de Lucretia Thrice hath the trumpet of my pens round stage Sounded a Surge to her bloudie age Sad spirits soft harts sicke thoughts soules sod in teares Wel humourd eies quicke eares teare-wounded faces Enrouled-Vestals Dians Hemispheres Rape-slaughtered Lucreces all martyrde Graces Be ye the audience take your tragicke places Here shal be plaide the miseries that immures Pure Diamond hearts in Christal couertures Black spirits hard harts thick thoughts souls boild in lust Drie fierie eies dull eares high bloudy lookes Made of hot earth moulded in fire and dust Desires true Graduates reade in Tarquins bookes Be ye our stages Actors play the Cookes Carue out the daintiest morsel that 's your part With lust-keene Faulchon euen in Lucrace heart Now weepeth Lucrece with a trine of eies Quenching the fire of Lust with teares and bloud Changing those eie-lampes which were wont to rise Like beames of morning to a mourning clowde Her heart the purest eie to a redde-sea-floude Her ghost the Idea of her soule resumes Which Phoenix-wise burnes in her owne perfumes THE GHOST of Lucrece MEdeas Magicke and Calipsoes drugges Circes enchauntments Hecates triforme Weanes my soule sucking at Reuenges dugges To feed vpon the aire What wind what storme Blew my disseuered limmes into this forme And from the Virgin-Paradise of death Coniures my Ghost with poetizing breath The candle of my shame burnes in the skie Set on the crosse-Poles of the firmament To feare away diuine Virginitie And light this world below that being bent To follow me they goe not as I went But when I hope to see the candle waine Then Tarquins spirit falls on the snuffe againe So that the snuffe the sauour of my shame That stinckes before the throne of chastitie Is still rekindled with veneriall flame To shew that Tarquins planet plants in me The roote of fierie bloud and luxurie First forcing with his breath one flames retire Then takes my bloud for oyle his lust for fire Now burnes the beacon of my soule indeede Too high for fame but low enough for fume Saints keep your cloister-house Vesta make speede Take in thy flowers for feare the fire consume Thy eternall-sweete-Virginitie-perfume For Lust and Bloud are mingled in one lampe To seale my soule with Rape and Murders stampe Before my shame yon candle had no fire Vestals nil feard me the world saw me not Shame was the tinder and the flint desire That strucke in Tarquins bosome and begot A childe of fire a firebrand and so hot That it consumde my chastitie to dust And on my heart painted the mouth of lust Was I the cradle O my chastitie To rocke and lull this bastard firebrand Nâ—rst with my bloud we and with my tragedie Fed at my kniues sharpe point vpon my hand Borne and reborne where ere my spirites stand I was the cradleâ— see the fieâ—…e dart That burnes Dianaes temples in my heart Behold this blade varnisht with bloud and teares Bloud from my heart teares from my stilling eies Behold I say this knife whereon appeares Vestaes Vermision melting from her skies And teares of pearles in bloudy misteries This is the Tragicke knife here you may see Teares striue for fame and bloud for chastitie Right hand thou act'st Reuenges hand aright This knife and thou haue sworne to kisse my breast Thou art my Vestaes antidote to fright Lust from the bed of Colatinus rest Performer of thy vow hand be thou blest For thou in this hast showne me what thou art Driuing the foe from scaling of my heart Come spirit of fire bred in a wombe of bloud Forgd in a furnace by the Smith of hell Begot and formed in that burning floud Where Plutoes Phlegetonticke tennants dwell And scalded spirits in their fiery cell Breathes from their soule the flame of luxurie From that luxurious clime I coniure thee Now is my tyde of bloud Come quench thy soule The sluces of my spirit now runs againe Come I haue made my breast an luorie bowle To hold the bloud that streameth from my veyne Drinke to my chastitie which thou hast slaine But woe the while that labour is in vaine To drinke to that which cannot pledge againe Quaffe thine owne fill and let that lustfull flame That circuits in the circle of thy spirite Pledge thy desire carowsing off my shame Which swimmes amidst my bloud and doth inherite The portion of my soule without a merite And if this spring of bloud cannot suffize I le raine downe teares from my Elementall eies Thou art my nurse-child Tarquin thou art he In steede of milke sucke bloud and teares and all In liew of teats Lucrece thy nurse euen she By tragicke art seene through a Christall wall Hath carued with her knife thy festiuall Here 's bloud for milke sucke till thy veines run ouer And such a teat which scarce thy mouth can couer Tarquin the rauisher oh at that name See how mine eies dissolueth into teares Tarquin the Roman I describe my shame Frorm Rome it came a Romane name it beares Tarquin my guest lo here began my feares Tarquin from Ardea postes hence sprang the fire For Ardeas name sounds ardent hot desire Tarquin my kinsman O Diuinitie Where art thou fled hast thou for sooke thy sphaere Where 's Vertue Knight-hood and Nobilitie Faith Honor Pietie they should be neere For kinsman sounds all these they are not here Tarquin my kinsman was it thou didst come To sacke my Colatines Collatium Tarquin my kinsman too vnkindly done And by a kinsman too my Ghost auers it Doth theresore that same
name of kinred run To see their kin-redde and with bloud prefers it O enemie to faith that still defers it Had Tarquin neuer lustfull Tarquin beene Lucrece the chaste should haue chaste Lucrece seene Tarquin the Prince had Rome no better heires Thou mistris of the world no better men Thou Prodigalitie of Natures faires Are Tygers kings mak'st thou thy throne a den Thy siluer-glittering streames blacke Lernaes fen Thy seauen hilles that should or'e looke thy euilles Like seauen helles to nurse vp Roman diuelles To thee that makst the Moone thy looking glasse To view thy triple crowne and seauen-fold head To thee I say the Ghost of what I was Plaines mee and it sith thou so long hast fed The rauisher and starude the rauished If Vestaes lines were euer writ in thee Then weigh the blotting of those lines in mee Tarquin the Prince sham'st thou to heare thy name Rome t is thy heire sham'st thou to call him sonne Tarquin the Prince lo I le repeate thy shame A Roman heire from him to thee I runne I le shame you both before my shame be done Tarquin the Prince Tarquin the Roman heire Thus wil I haunt and hunt you to dispaire Tarquin the traytor bid my spirit rise And call vp al the senses of my soule For treason should be guarded with more eies Then was Ioues lo vnder his controule For treasons guile doth winne the traitors gole Tarquin the traytor watch when time 's in season For treason doth betray all things to treason Tarquin the lecher virgin chastitie Melts at the heate of that luxurious word Like maiden snow vpon a promontorie Kissing the un her heauenly louely Lord Then dies and melts into a watry ford So did my chastities-white-snow attire Dissolue in bloud at Tarquins lustfull fire Tarquin the night-owle Chastitie beware Thou art beset with millions of deceits Thy eies haue leaden liddes they take no care Thy senses rockt asleepe and thy conceites Tempred with silence feare nor snares nor baites Onely the vestall purenesse of thy soule Bade me beware that Night-obseruing owle Tarquin the Night-owle in whose flaming eies Lust and Desire banded their balles of bloud Chasing my spirit with fiery misteries Vnto the hazard where destruction stoode Ready to strike my soule into a clowde So when the Sunne had seene my vapour rise Then with his beames to dash me from the skies Tarquin the Night-owle watch destruction What hath the eies of Lust no Iiddes at all Or doe they houer for confusion Answering in silence when affections call When lust awakes the eie liddes neuer fall But like a courser holding reasons raine Doth shut the eies and opens them againe Tarquin the Night-owle Vesta looke about The fourth allarum of my feares now rings And yet the houre of dread is scarce runne out For midnights face more force of terror brings To thinke on that my sinewes shake like strings And chastitie which yet had spirit and breath Lay quauering at my heart to tune her death Tarquin the Night-owle turne the glasse againe Fiue times my tongue the hammer of my soule That beates vpon my breath and strikes a straine Sounding all quauers that 's the song of dole Fiue times my tongue did euen my tongue controule For feare is such a slaue and coward elfe That fearing others runnes and feares himselfe Tarquin the Night-owle Enter trecherie Sextus Tarquinius this sixt houre is thine Farewell my life farewell my chastitie Farewel though not mine now that which was mine Thy grapes are now deuour'd alas poore vine The Tyr-ant with his force of luxurie Tires mean Ant through imbecillitie Now enters on the stage of Lucrece heart Blacke appeâ—ites in flamde habiliments When they haue acted all then they depart Rape entring next armed in murders tents Wrackes Vestaes tennants and takes all her rents This shewes that Vestaes Deitie is poore She hath the stalke but Veâ—â—… hath the store This is the tragicke sceane bleede hearts weepe eies Flie soule from bodie spirit from my veines Follow my chastitie where ere it lies Which my vnhalowed body now refraines Looke to the lampe of chastitie it waines The starre which guided all my elements Pulls in her head and leaues the firmaments Rape in his pawes of bloud and fangs of Lust Hath stainde th' immaculate lillie of my field And hath sepulchred in the shade of dust Dianaes milken robe and Vestaes shield VVhen Tygers prey the seely lambes must yeeld VVhen Tarquin postes from Ardea by and by Lucrece must loose her life and chastitie O Colatine where sleepes thy troubled spirite VVhat new come Morpheus hath arrested thee Doth thy heart soundly sleepe doth nothingstirre it Deare Colatine awake wert thou with mee The arches of mine eies would waken thee For teares like waues rush at my eie liddes doore Striuing together who should goe before Come Colatine the foe hath sackt thy cittie Collatium goes to wracke come Colatine Come Colatine all pietie and pittie Is turnde to pettie treason what is thine Is ceazde vppon long since and what is mine Carried away true man thou sleepst at Rome Euen while a Roman theefe robs thee at home Come Colatine t is Lucrece bids thee come Or shal I send my purseuant of grones Vnto prowde Rome from poore Collatium To make all priuate means by publique mones Discoursing my blacke storie to the stones Come Colatine t is Tarquins dreadfull drum That coniures me to call and thee to come Thy Lucrece bed which had faire canopies Spangled with starres like to the firmament And curtaines wrought with many deities Resembling Ioues white lacteall element Are stained now by lust and reuishment The starres out starde the deities defied These I had storde the other deified The night before Tarquin and Lust came hither Ill token for a chaste memoriall My maides and I poore maide did spin together Like the three sisters which the Fates we call And Fortune lent vs wheeles to turne withall Round goes our wheeles like worlds on mine alone Stoode fortune reeling on a rowling stone Yet was my heart so light that still I said Sing merrily my maides our wheeles goe round VVho would not sing and spin and be a maide To serue so sweete a Goddesse and be bound Apprentise where such mistresses abound Sing merrily my maides againe she sayes For Vesta is the Goddesse of our layes Maidens quoth I but thinke what maidens be They are the verie string that ties their hearts The pillars of their soules pure puritie The distillations of th'essentiall parts Both good deseruers and the good desarts Then seeing Vesta hath so many trades Go round our wheeles sing merrily my maides VVhat nimble fingers hath Virginitie To twist the thread and turne the wheele about O Virgines that same pearle of chastitie Shines like the Moone to light your thoughts throughout Pure cogitations neuer harbours doubt But like the fairest-purest chrisolite Admits no bruise without a cracke with it Spin merily my maiden-paradise Thus with a merrie
I forget thy spheres O spheres of heauen shall I let passe your skies O skies which weares out time and neuer weares Shall I make dim the tapers of your eies O eies of heauen Sunne Moone and starres that rise To wake the day and free imprisoned night Shall my obliuious vapour clowde your light T' is thou ô chastitie shall I sorsake thee Or drowne thy memorie in my bloudy streame Remember ô my soule did she not make thee Out of Dianaes ribbes did not that beame Which glisters in thy spirit like Ioues-eie-gleame Reflect from Vestaes face vpon thy heart Like Phoebus brow the pride of heauens art O thou that mak'st the Via Lactea whiter That virgin-gallery of maiesticke Ioue Faire Iunoes maze to foote it doth delight her The siluer path of heauen and bath of loue There sits the lambe the swanne the turtle doue Ensignes of peace of faith and chastitie O siluer stage to golden harmonie That quire of saints in virgin-ornament Where Angells sing like queristers of heauen Where all the Martyrs kneele the element Where Cynthiaes robe and great Apolloes steauen Hangs at the altar of this milken hauen And to conclude not able to begin I write of that which flesh hath neuer seene T was thou ô chastitie m'eternall eie The want of thee made my ghost reele to hell T was thou ô chastitie that guild'st the skie With beames of vertue it is thou dost dwell In that white-milken-christall-siluer cell Thou laundresse to the gods aud goddesses Washing their soules in fonts of holinesse O thou that deckst our Phoebus in the East Circling his temples with spirituall beames And guides his vestall chariot to the west Through that pure christall tracke of lacteall streames Siluering his wheeles with alablaster gleames Then tempring the bright porphurie of his face With chaste Endimions blush the die of grace That doing dutie to his father Ioue Vpon his knee of fire bids him arise And blessing all his beames with kissing loue Like a maiesticke father guilds his eies To adde a rarer shine vnto the skies Then takes his chariot with a brighter pride And cries alowd S. Vesta be my guide S. Vesta O thou sanctifying Saint That lends a beame vnto the cleerest Sunne Which els within his fiery course would faint And end his race ere he had halfe begun Making the world beleeue his power were done His oyle burnt out his lampe returnde to slime His fires extinguishde by the breath of time O thou the pearle that hangs on Iunoes brow Like to the Moone the massie pearle of night Thou iewel in the eare of Ioue to show The pride of loue the puritie of light Thou Atlas of both worlds vmpire of right Thou hauen of heauen th'assigner of each signe Sanctities saint Diuinities diuine O thou the siluer taper of the Moone Set in an alablaster candlesticke That by the bed of heauen at afternoone Stands like a lillie which faire virgins picke To match it with the lillie of their cheeke Thou lillie lambe thou christall fether'd doue That nestles in the pallace of thy Ioue O touch my veins againe thou bloud diuine O feede my spirit thou foode angelicall And all chaste functions with my soule combine Colour my ghost with chastitie whose All Feedes fat leane Death and time in generall Come siluer doue heauens alablaster nunne I le hugge thee more then euer I haue donne Lucrece alas thou picture of thy selfe Drawne poore and pale by that old painter time And ouerdasht by Death that meagre elfe Which dries our element of bloud to thime And tempreth our old ashes with new slime Lucrece I say how canst thou Lucrece bee Wanting a God to giue a life to thee Bleede no more lines my heart this Knife my pen This bloud my incke hath writ enough to Lust Tarquin to thee thou very diuell of men I send these lines thou art my fiend of trust To thee I dedicate my toombe of dust To thee I consecrate this little-Most Writ by the bloudy fingers of my Ghost This little scrole of fire that burnes my hand In repetition of thy fiery name I fold vpon my heart my bloudy land And to thy ghost my ghost doth send the same Intituled The lines of bloud and flame The Ghost of Lucrece that 's the Ghost of bloud The Ghost of Tarquin that 's the fiery floud Now for thy title and deserued stile In dedication to thy worthinesse To thee the second of Cocytus I le Chiefe senior to the Phlegetonticke messe High steward vnto Plutoes holinesse Temprer of flames the L. Tysiphonie My bloudy fires begs patronage of thee Now lacke I nothing but the post of hell To flie like Vestaes arrow from my bow With these my red hot newes and then to tell How many times my heart did ebbe and flow Like seas with teares aboue and bloud below And from poore Lucrece mouth tell Tarquin thus That Philomel hath writ to Tyreus Here stops the streame of tragicke bloud and fire And now Melpomene hales my spirit in The stage is downe and Philomelaes quire Is husht from prick-song Acherons bells begin To call our ghosts clad in the spirits of sin Now Tyreus meets with rauishde Philomel Lucrece with Tarquin in the haule of hell FINIS The Epilogue RHamnusia in a chariot of Reuenge Heapt vp with Ghosts of bloud and spirits of fire Hath pilde vp Lucrece Ghost so to auenge Her chaste vntimely bloud of flamde desire Now at the barre of hell Reuenges quire Pleades Lucrece with a tongue of teares and blouds First speakes her heart and then her eies in flouds Can death that shrimpe of spirits that bonie wretch That meagre-element that begger god From Lucrece skie such heauenly colours fetch From beauties wrist to wrest that golden rod Which makes all red and white dispearse abroad Deaths power is come and beauties triumph past She was as chast as faire as faire as chast Her haire which in Arachnes finest loome Was kist with siluer shickles O that haire Which made Collatium shine in spight of Rome Keaming her trefses like Ioues golden heire He made Rome bright she made Collatium faire breath That haire which daunc'st in beames before her Serues now to stuffe the gaping ribbes of death Her eies the curious fabricke of her world Apolloes touchstones where he tride his beames And when her eies outmatcht his fires he hurld His crowne of splendour into quenching streames Raging to see beauties enrowled theames Writ in her eie-rowles but alas those eies Which liu'de in beautie now in beautie dies Her tongue which Orpheus tunde beforehe dide And strung before he â—ouâ—nied vnto hell That new Pernassus by a riuers side Where musicke soiournes and the Muses dwell O tongue of hers Dianaes siluer bell That rung chaste praiers to the church of heauen Now she of it and it of her bereauen Her breath which had a violet perfume Tempred with rose alverdure O her breath Through discorde of her tongne did all consume Vnto the ayre of earth she did bequeath That pension of her life from life to death How ill was this best owde on Death that elfe Which robs all others yet still poore it selfe Her teates twixt whom an alablaster bridge Parts each from other like two christall bowles Standing aloofe vpon the bodies ridge Beares chastities white Nectar-flowing soules O valley deckt with Floraes siluer roules Why giuest thou suck to death it wil be fed For know death must not die till all be dead And to conclude her all in euery sphaere That like the Sunne on christall elements Did shine in cleerenesse bright in brightnesse cleere Her head her skies her soule her firmaments Now staind by death before by rauishments First Tarquin-life clad her in deaths array Now Tarquin-death hath stolne her life away FINIS
cheere I whirld their wheels And made them rid at once more then at twice Such prettie pleasure true affection feeles That times olde head runnes swifter then his heeles For mirths fledg'd wings are of so quicke a flight I hat maks the morn seem noon the noon seem night My maides those ayrie sinewes in your hands Were of a finer thred then that you spinne It was a merry age in golden bands When Saturne sowed the earth and did begin To teach bad husbands a new way to win Then was true labour exercisde and donne When gods did reele what Goddesses had sponne Those times are waxen balde a prowder ayre Blowes in the heauen and breathes vpon the earth That age is out of date another heyre Claimes his possession by an yron birth And in an yron throne of death and dearth Rules this yong age sucking vntill it whine Euen at the dugges of Plutoes proserpine Thus like Diana by a lillie fount Sate I amidst my vestall elements Thus did my selfe still with my selfe account To free my thoughts from chained discontents And stirre vp mirth the nurse of nourishments Thus with a lightsome spirit and soules carouse I like a huswife cherisht vp my house When Roman dames tickled with pride and lust Rauisht with amorous Philosophie Printed the measures of their feete in dust Tempring their bloud with Musickes harmonie The very Synode-house of Venerie Then I at home insteade of melodie Grated my wheele vpon the axeltree How like Arachne turned I my wheele Each of my maids how like a shepheardesse Had Colatine my shepheard held the reele We foure might well haue made a country messe But one abroade makes one at home the lesse My Colatine my shepheard was at Rome And left poore me to feede his flocke at home Is Venus made a Laundresse to the Court Cupid her sonne elected for a page No maruaile if Dianaes starres doe sport With Venus planets vpon Cupids stage Yron must haue fire this is an yron age Our soules like smithes with anuills of desire Beate on our flesh and still we sparkle fire The Princes Court is eu'n a firmament All wrought with beames by day and starres by night The Prince himselfe the sunnie element From whence all beames and starres do borow light To paint their faces with a red and white Those beames embassadors of his bright array Those starres his counsellors by night and day How comes it then speake speake Iniquitie Thou blur of kingdomes and thou blot of Kings Thou Metamorphosis of puritie That shap'st the greater things to lesser things How comes it then that Cupids bow-string swings About the heeles of time Iniquitie It is the halter of thy luxurie Thou hast burnt out the humour of thy bones And made them powders of impietie To strew about the earth as thicke as stones Like wombes of lust in toombes of lecherie And all thy sinewes O Iniquitie Are so dried vp and now so slender sponne That Venus makes them bow-strings for her sonne Where is the spring of blouds virginitie That wont to serue thy veines like conduit heads And clense thy cesterne of iniquitie With maiden-humours from chaste Floraes meads Then slepst thou like a Lorde in Honors beds Then Vertue was thy bedfellow now know As great an ebbe followes as great a flow Loe vnder that base tipe of Tarquins name I cypher figures of iniquitie He writes himselfe the shamer I the shame The Actor hee and I the tragedie The stage am I and he the historie The subiect I and he the rauisher He murdring me made me my murderer O Lust this pen of mine that writes thee lust Lies blasted at the sulphure of thy fire The quill and fethers burnt to ashie dust Like dust and ashes flies before Desire Vnable to endure thy flamd attire For in the skie of contrarietie The winners life is when the loosers die If l proceede O fierie Incolants Of that vast hell which Pluto tearmes his haule Tarquins companions ye I say that haunts The bankes of burning baths to you I call Send me Prometheus heart t' endite withall And from his vultures wings a pen of bloud Thrice steept and dipt in Phlegetonticke floud Then shall I stamp the figure of the night On Tarquins brow and marke him for her sonne The heire of darknesse bastard of the light The clowde of heauen th'e clipser of the sunne The staine in Vestaes cheekes which first begunne In Tarquins flesh begot of fiery dust O thou the hell of loue vntutred Lust It bribes the flesh to warre against the spirit With tickling bloud mustring in euerie vaine It weanes the conscience from her heauenly merit Deprauing all chaste thoughts het maiden traine It makes the heart thinke and vnthinke againe It taints the breath with fire the braine with bloud And sets a diuel where a God had stood Beeing in the eie Lust is a Cockatrice Hemlocke in taste a canker in the thought And in the life a moth which in a trice Consumes that treasure which so deare was bought And cost so many dropps of bloud for nought So many streames of bloud and baths of sweate To bathe our spirites and to quench our heate O hell-eyde Lust when I behold thy face Praefigured in my Ghost drawne in my mind I thinke of Sydons flowers that grow apace And fauour thee by qualitie and kind They looke like faith before and fame behind But if thou sauour these well-fauoured euills They haue the sight of gods the sent of deuills If I had like a curious herbalist Measurde thy quantitie by qualitie Or Esculapius-wise on Reasons fist Had planted vertue by the propertie Or with the lapidaries policie Made choice by insight that 's the note of wit And not by outward hue to iudge of it Then like that skilfull Esculapius Setting apart the colour of deceit I might haue knowne Tarquin from Tyreus And Lucrece bed from Philomelaes baite Vesta conceiâ—'d what Venus did conceit But wanting Esculapius in my choice I left sweete verdure for a flattering voice Did Beautie that same bauins blaze incense thee That flower of â—…me which buds with vanitie That string of fortunes wheel which doth commence thee The graduate of hell borne iniquitie Was beautie made the marke of luxurie Then heauens from henceforth let the world behold Beautie in lead deformitie in gold Say Beauties beames dazled thy clowdie eies This Beautie hangs but at the heeles of time And when times wings a loftier measure flies Then Beautie like poore Iearus must clime Or plunge into the puddle of her slime For Beauties limmes are of a waxen frame And melts like Icarus wings at euery flame Sawst thou the colours which quaint Phydias drew In dead-liue pictures with a touch of art Such red and white hath Beautie being new Made onely to amazeth ' amazers heart Yet Phydias colours piercing like a dart Were staind with euery breath and lost their prime So Beauties blot drops from the pen of time But O my heauen shall