78540Here with a Cockeatrice dead killing eye,

541He rowseth vp himselfe, and makes a pause,

542While shee the picture of pure pietie,

543Like a white Hinde vnder the grypes sharpe clawes,

544Pleades in a wildernesse where are no lawes,

545 To the rough beast, that knowes no gentle right,

546 Nor ought obayes but his fowle appetite.

79547But when a black-fac'd clowd the world doth thret,

548In his dim mist th'aspiring mountaines hiding:

549From earths dark-womb, some gentle gust doth get,

550Which blow these pitchie vapours frō their biding:

551Hindring their present fall by this deuiding.

552 So his vnhallowed hast her words delayes,

553 And moodie PLVTO winks while Orpheus playes.

80554Yet fowle night-waking Cat he doth but dallie,

555While in his hold-fast foot the weak mouse pāteth,

556Her sad behauiour feedes his vulture follie,

557A swallowing gulfe that euen in plentie wanteth.

558His eare her prayers admits, but his heart granteth

559 No penetrable entrance to her playning,

560 "Tears harden lust though marble were with ray-ning.