104619On his bow-backe, he hath a battell
set,
620Of bri
sly pikes that euer threat his foes,
621His eyes like glow-wormes
shine, when he doth fret
622His
snout digs
sepulchers where ere he goes,
623 Being mou'd he
strikes, what ere is in his way,
624 And whom he
strikes, his crooked tu
shes
slay.
105625His brawnie
sides with hairie bri
stles armed,
626Are better proofe then thy
speares point can enter,
627His
short thick necke cannot be ea
sily harmed,
628Being irefull, on the lyon he will venter,
629 The thornie brambles, and imbracing bu
shes,
630 As fearefull of him part, through whom he ru
shes.
106631Alas, he naught e
steem's that face of thine,
632To which loues eyes paies tributarie gazes,
633Nor thy
soft handes,
sweet lips, and chri
stall eine,
634Who
se full perfe
ction all the world amazes,
635 But hauing thee at vantage (wondrous dread!)
636 Wold roote the
se beauties, as he root's the mead.
107637Oh let him keep his loath
some cabin
still,
638Beautie hath nanght to do with
such foule
fiends,
639Come not within his danger by thy will,
640They that thriue well, take coun
sell of their friends,
641 When thou did
st name the boare, not to di
ssēble,
642 I feard thy fortune, aud my ioynts did tremble.
E ij