[Begin Pg. 24, Continue Stanza # 40]
My name, quoth I, is Soothern, and / ["Sooth" = truth = Vere] Madame, let that suffice: / That Soothern which will rayse the Eng- / lishe language to the Skies. / The wanton of the Muses, and / Whose well composed ryme, / Will live in despite of the hevens, / And Triumph over tyme. &c. //
41.Elegia. ,, But how farre are the wordes crontra- / ,, rie to the deedes of men. / The selfe same night I went where I / admyred you agen. / Your sylver Phebes eyes, and your / Well set and crisped heair: / Your Venus porte, and your counte- / naunce of the God of war: / Your Iban throte, your marble brow, / With your soft cheekes of Roses: / And your Stra[w]berie lyps, wherein / Your teeth of pearle reporses. / Breefe, I saw you (Dian) in whome / The Gods did all their best, / To see what they could doo, when they / Would frame a worke Celest. & etc. //
42.Elegia. ,, But how vaine and short are the de- / ,, lightes and plasires humaine. / ,, And of the solace of this world: / ,, What else dooth there remaine, / ,, Saving but repentaunce: and what / ,, Is it that beareth breath, / ,, But by the having life, it is / ,, Subjected unto death. & etc. //
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[Begin Pg. 25]
43. ,, The more stronger the Castle is, Himm. / ,, And harder to be wonne, / ,, The more eternall honour hath, / ,, The man that can get it. / ,, And vertue never will give ov'r, / ,, Without a great conflict. & etc. //
44. ,, To judge a Humaine heart tis a Himm. / ,,Labyrinth, much unwide, / ,, Wherein we loose us, if we have / ,, Not experaunce for guide. & etc. //
45. ,, The woman nere so constaunt, or Elegia. / ,, the Castle nere so strong: / ,, If th'one will heare, and th'other speake, / ,, The doo not endure long. & etc. // [Backwards "P"] New kinde of verces devised by him: / and are a wofull kinde of meter, to / sing a love, or death in. /
46.LIke the dolefull birde languishing, / the which dooth sing, / Her fatall song in sweete accordes, / Betaking her selfe to her death, / wearie of breath: / On Meander her slorie borde[r]s. / And even so I, without hope that / it helpes me ought, / Bedew thy handes, heere with my teares: / For I perceive by thy rigore, / that-to my dolore: / The Gods themselves have stopt their eares. / Though speake Dian, what might thou meane, / by this extreame. / [Printer's Mark of "D.y."] /
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