¶In him the Painter labour'd with his skill
¶To hide deceipt, and giue the harmle
sse
show
¶An humble gate, calme looks, eyes wayling
still,
¶A brow vnbent that
seem'd to welcome wo,
1510Cheeks neither red, nor pale, but mingled
so,
¶_That blu
shing red, no guiltie in
stance gaue,
¶_Nor a
shie pale, the feare that fal
se hearts haue.
¶But like a con
stant and confirmed Deuill,
¶He entertain'd a
show,
so
seeming iu
st,
1515And therein
so en
sconc't his
secret euill,
¶That Iealou
sie it
selfe could not mi
stru
st,
¶Fal
se creeping Craft, and Periurie
should thru
st
¶_Into
so bright a daie,
such blackfac'd
storms,
¶_Or blot with Hell-born
sin
such Saint-like forms.
1520The well-skil'd workman this milde Image drew
¶For periur'd
SINON, who
se inchaunting
storie
¶The credulous old
PRIAM after
slew.
¶VVho
se words like wild fire burnt the
shining glorie
¶Of rich-built
ILLION, that the skies were
sorie,
1525_And little
stars
shot from their fixed places,
¶_VVhē their glas fel, wherin they view'd their faces.