Too many mirrors haue we to behold, Of mens inconstancy, and womens shame. How many margent notes can we vnfold, Mourning for virgins that haue bene too blame? And shall I then run headlong to the flame? I blush, but it is you should be ashamed, For know, if that you neuer haue beene told, "Vertue may be inforc'd, but not defamed. 48 Faire louely Prince, let warre your triumphs be, Go forward in the glittering course you run, The kingly Eagle strikes through _Atomie_, Those little moates that barre him from the Sun, Then let not both of vs be here vndone, You of your Conquest, I of Chastitie. And pardon my rude specch, for lo you see, I plead for life, and who's not loath to dye? 49 Death of my fame, which oft proues mortal death Witnesse the Prince-forc'd chaste _Lucretia_, Ere I like her be rap'd, o reaue my breath, And gainst thy nature, take a yeelding pray, That will embrace death, before thee this day. If thou loue me, shew it in killing me, Thy sword had neuer yet a chaster sheath, Nor thou, nor _Mahound_ a worse enemy. 50 He heard nor this, nor ought of what she said, For all his senses now were turn'd to eyes, And with such fired gaze he view'd this maid, That sure I thinke not _Hermes_ mysteries, Nor all his _Caducean_ nouelties, That flow from him like a slye winding streame, (To which the Gods gladly their eares haue laid) Could once haue mou'd him from this waking dreame. 51 But sighes he sends out on this embassie, Liegers that dye ere they returne againe, Poore substitutes to coape with chastity. She knew the pleading of their Liege was vaine, And all his teares like to a Mel-dew raine, That falles vpon the floures, to defloure. Yet, for twas tedious, she did aske him why, Each sigh was o're him such a conquerour. 52 By heauen he swore, and made his Eunuch start, I sigh to coole Loues fire, then kist her hand: For know, thou wonder of the Easterne part, He need not counterfeite that can command: But by thy middle, _Cupids_ coniuring wand, I am all loue, and faire beleeue my vow, Sprung from a Souldier, now a louers heart, He sweares to loue, that neuer lou'd till now. 53 Not halfe so faire was _Hellen_, thy pre'cessor, On whom the firy brand of Troy did dote, For whom so many riuall kings to succour, Made many a mountaine pine on Symois floate, Whilst fame to this day, tels it with wide throat. _Hector_ fell wounded in that warlike stir, _Peleus_ did faint, _Aiax_ that lusty warriour, Then blame not me, that loue one far 'boue her. 54