¶My husband is thy friend, for his
sake
spare me,
¶Thy
selfe art mightie, for thine own
sake leaue me:
¶My
selfe a weakling, do not then in
snare me.
585Thou look'
st not like deceipt, do not deceiue me.
¶My
sighes like whirlewindes labor hence to heaue
(thee.
¶_If euer man were mou'd with womās mones,
¶_Be moued with my teares, my
sighes, my grones.
¶All which together like a troubled Ocean,
590Beat at thy rockie, and wracke-threatning heart,
¶To
soften it with their continuall motion:
¶For
stones di
ssolu'd to water do conuert.
¶O if no harder then a
stone thou art,
¶_Melt at my teares and be compa
ssionate,
595_Soft pittie enters at an iron gate.
¶In
TARQVINS likene
sse I did entertaine thee,
¶Ha
st thou put on his
shape, to do him
shame?
¶To all the Ho
st of Heauen I complaine me.
¶Thou wrong
st his honor, woūd
st his princely name:
600Thou art not what thou
seem'
st, and if the
same,
¶_Thou
seem'
st not what thou art, a God, a King;
¶_For kings like Gods
should gouerne euery thing.