30204Yea though I die the scandale will suruiue,

205And be an eie-sore in my golden coate:

206Some lothsome dash the Herrald will contriue,

207To cipher me how fondlie I did dote:

208That my posteritie sham'd with the note

209 Shall curse my bones, and hold it for no sinne,

210 To wish that I their father had not beene.

31211What win I if I gaine the thing I seeke?

212A dreame, a breath, a froth of fleeting ioy,

213Who buies a minutes mirth to waile a weeke?

214Or sels eternitie to get a toy?

215For one sweete grape who will the vine destroy?

216 Or what fond begger, but to touch the crowne,

217 Would with the scepter straight be strokē down?

32218If COLATINVS dreame of my intent,

219Will he not wake, and in a desp'rate rage

220Post hither, this vile purpose to preuent?

221This siege that hath ingirt his marriage,

222This blur to youth, this sorrow to the sage,

223 This dying vertue, this suruiuing shame,

224 Whose crime will beare an euer-during blame.