120834If COLATINE, thine honor laie in me,

835From me by strong assault it is bereft:

836My Honnie lost, and I a Drone-like Bee,

837Haue no perfection of my sommer left,

838But rob'd and ransak't by iniurious theft.

839 In thy weake Hiue a wandring waspe hath crept,

840 And suck't the Honnie which thy chast Bee kept.

121841Yet am I guiltie of thy Honors wracke,

842Yet for thy Honor did I entertaine him,

843Comming from thee I could not put him backe:

844For it had beene dishonor to disdaine him,

845Besides of wearinesse he did complaine him,

846 And talk't of Vertue (O vnlook't for euill,)

847 When Vertue is prophan'd in such a Deuill.

122848Why should the worme intrude the maiden bud?

849Or hatefull Kuckcowes hatch in Sparrows nests?

850Or Todes infect faire founts with venome mud?

851Or tyrant follie lurke in gentle brests?

852Or Kings be breakers of their owne behestes?

853 "But no perfection is so absolute,

854 That some impuritie doth not pollute.