Cag’d in thy holde, scarse maister of thy selfe, Late maister of so many nations. Yet, yet, which is of grief extreamest grief, Which is yet of mischiefe highest mischiefe, It’s _Cleopatra_ alas! alas, it’s she, It’s she augments the torment of thy paine, Betraies thy loue, thy life alas! betraies, _Cæsar_ to please, whose grace she seekes to gaine: With thought her Crowne to saue, and fortune make Onely thy foe which common ought haue beene. If her I alwaies lou’d, and the first flame Of her heart-killing loue shall burne me last: Iustly complaine I she disloyall is, Nor constant is, euen as I constant am, To comfort my mishap, despising me No more, then when the heauens fauour’d me. _But ah! by nature women wau’ring are,_ _Each moment changing and rechanging mindes._ _Vnwise, who blinde in them, thinkes loyaltie_ _Euer to finde in beauties company._ Chorus. The boyling tempest still Makes not Sea waters fome: Nor still the Northern blast Disquiets quiet streames: Nor who his chest to fill Sayles to the morning beames, On waues winde tosseth fast Still kepes his Ship from home. Nor _Ioue_ still downe doth cast Inflam’d with bloudie ire On man, on tree, on hill, His darts of thundring fire: Nor still the heat doth last On face of parched plaine: Nor wrinkled colde doth still On frozen furrowes raigne. But still as long as we In this low world remaine, Mishapps our dayly mates Our liues do entertaine: And woes which beare no dates Still pearch vpon our heads, None go, but streight will be Some greater in their Steads. Nature made vs not free When first she made vs liue: When we began to be, To be began our woe: Which growing euermore As dying life dooth growe Do more and more vs greeue, And tire vs more and more. No stay in fading states, For more to height they retch, Their fellow miseries The more to height do stretch. They clinge euen to the crowne, And threatning furious wise From tirannizing pates Do often pull it downe. In vaine on waues vntride to shunne them go we should To _Scythes_ and _Massagetes_ Who neare the Pole reside: In vaine to boiling sandes Which _Phæbus_ battry beates, For with vs still they would Cut seas and compasse landes. The darknes no more sure To ioyne with heauy night: The light which guildes the dayes To follow _Titan_ pure: No more the shadow light The body to ensue: Then wretchednes alwaies Vs wretches to pursue. O blest who neuer breath’d, Or whome with pittie mou’de, _Death_ from his cradle reau’de, And swadled in his graue: And blessed also he (As curse may blessing haue) Who low and liuing free No princes charge hath prou’de. By stealing sacred fire _Prometheus_ then vnwise, Prouoking Gods to ire,