Never was humane soule so overgrown, With an unreasonable Cargazon Of flesh, as _Aldobrandine_, whom to pack, No girdle serv’d lesse than the zodiack: So thick a Giant, that he now was come To be accounted an eighth hill in _Rome_, And as the learn’d _Tostatus_ kept his age, Writing for every day he liv’d a page; So he no lesse voluminous then that Added each day a leaf, but ’twas of fat. The choicest beauty that had been devis’d By Nature, was by her parents sacrific’d Up to this Monster, upon whom to try, If as increase, he could, too, multiply. Oh how I tremble lest the tender maid Should dye like a young infant over-laid! For when this Chaos would pretend to move And arch his back for the strong act of Love, He fals as soon orethrown with his own weight, And with his ruines doth the Princesse fright. She lovely Martyr there lyes stew’d and prest, Like flesh under the tarr’d saddle drest, And seemes to those that look on them in bed, Larded with him, rather than married. Oft did he cry, but still in vain[,] to force His fatnesse[,] powerfuller then a divorce: No herbs, no midwives profit here, nor can Of his great belly free the teeming man. What though he drink the vinegars most fine, They do not wast his fleshy Apennine; His paunch like some huge Istmos runs between The amarous Seas, and lets them not be seen; Yet a new _Dedalus_ invented how This Bull with his _Pasiphae_ might plow. Have you those artificial torments known, With which long sunken Galeos are thrown Again on Sea, or the dead Galia Was rais’d that once behinde St. _Peters_ lay: By the same rules he this same engine made, With silken cords in nimble pullies laid; And when his Genius prompteth his slow part To works of Nature, which he helps with Art: First he intangles in those woven bands, His groveling weight, and ready to commands, The sworn Prinadas of his bed, the Aids Of Loves Camp, necessary Chambermaids; Each runs to her known tackling, hasts to hoyse, And in just distance of the urging voyce, Exhorts the labour till he smiling rise To the beds roof, and wonders how he flies. Thence as the eager Falcon having spy’d Fowl at the brook, or by the Rivers side, Hangs in the middle Region of the aire, So hovers he, and plains above his faire: Blest _Icarus_ first melted at those beames, That he might after fall into those streames, And there allaying his delicious flame, In that sweet Ocean propogate his name. Unable longer to delay, he calls To be let down, and in short measure falls Toward his Mistresse, that without her smock Lies naked as _Andromeda_ at the Rock, And through the Skies see her wing’d _Perseus_ strike Though for his bulk, more that sea-monster like. Mean time the Nurse, who as the most discreet, Stood governing the motions at the feet, And ballanc’d his descent, lest that amisse