Honor and safety, both in true loue is, And _Mahomet_ is zealous, o loue him: With him ioy euery thing that tasts of blisse, Pompe, honor, pleasure, shews, and pastimes trim, Care dwels not where he dwels, nor sorrow grim Onely till now, that he for _Hiren_ mournes: A Greeke whom he would bring to paradice, He ner'e took thought, but now he sighs & burns. 41 Wilt thou be his, on thee shall waite and tend, A traine of Nymphs, and Pages by thy side, With faunes, horse, coach, & musicke which shall lend The spheares new notes in their harmonies pride. When thou wilt walke, and publikly be ey'd, To bring thee in thy hie way, cloath'd with flowers Shall sent like _Tempe_ when the graces send, To meet each other in those fragrant bowers. 42 At home shall comick Masques, & night disports Conduct thee to thy pillow, and thy sheetes, And all those reuels which soft loue consorts, Shall entertaine thee with their sweetest sweets. And as the warlike God with _Venus_ meetes, And dallies with her in the Paphian groue, Shall _Mahomet_ in bed shew thee such sports, As none shall haue, but she which is his loue. 43 Againe: No more againe (saies she) great king, I know you can do much, and all this to, But tell me when we loose so deere a thing, Shame can we take pride in, in publike shew: Think you the adulterate owle, then wold not so? No, no, nor state, nor honor can repure, Dishonor'd sheet's, nor lend the owle daies wing Ignoble shame a King cannot recure. 44 Now say mine eies & cheeks are faire, what then? Why so are yours, yet do I dote on you? Beauty is blacke, defam'd by wicked men, And yet must euery beauty make men sue? Too good is worse then bad, you seeme too true Too easie, passionate, loue-sicke, and kinde, Then blame not me, that cannot so soone ren Your course: the fault is in your forward minde. 45 But say great prince, I had a wanton eye, Would you adde _Syrius_ to the sommer sunne? And whurle hote flaming fire where tow doth lie By which combustion all might be vndone? For loke how mightier greater Kings do run Amisse, the fault is more pernicious, And opens more to shame and obloquy, Then what we erre in, or is done by vs. 46 A Monarch, and a mighty Conquerour To doate, proues euery woman is his better, But I'le be true to thee (said he:) One houre (Said she;) but what for truth, when it is fitter We keepe our own, then haue a doubtful debter. But I will sweare, said he: So _Iason_ did, Replide faire _Hiren_, yet who faithlesse more, or more inconstant to his sworne loues bed? 47