Which with Quick-siluer, being flourisht ouer, Seemes to be perfect Siluer, to the showe: As Woemens paintings, their defects doe couer, Vnder this false attyre, so doe they goe. If on a woollen Cloth, thou rub the same, Then will it straight beginne to blush, for shame. If chafed on thy haire, till it be hot, If it good Siluer bee, the scent is sweete: If counterfeit, thy chafing hath begot A ranke-smelt sauour; for a Queene vnmeete: _Pecunia_ is a Queene, for her Desarts, And in the Decke, may goe for _Queene of harts_. _The Queene of harts_, because she rules all harts; And hath all harts, obedient to her Will: Whose Bounty, fame vnto the Worlde imparts; And with her glory, all the Worlde doeth fill: The _Queene of Diamonds_, she cannot bee; There is but one, ELIZA, thou art shee. And thou art shee, O sacred Soueraigne; Whom God hath helpt with his Al-mighty hand: Blessing thy People, with thy peacefull raigne; And made this little Land, a happy Land: May all those liue, that wish long life to thee, And all the rest, perish eternally. Thy tyme was once, when faire _Pecunia_, here Did basely goe attyred all in Leather: But since her raigne, she neuer did appeere But richly clad; in Golde, or Siluer either: Nor reason is it, that her Golden raigne With baser Coyne, eclypsed should remaine. And as the Coyne, she hath repurifyde, From baser substance, to the purest Mettels: Religion so, hath shee refinde beside, From Papistrie, to Truth; which daily settles Within her Peoples harts; though some there bee, That cleaue vnto their wonted Papistrie. No flocke of sheepe, but some are still infected: No peece of Lawne so pure, but hath some fret: All buildings are not strong, that are erected: All Plants proue not, that in good ground are set: Some tares are sowne, amongst the choicest seed: No garden can be cleansd of euery Weede. But now to her, whose praise is her pretended, (Diuine _Pecunia_) fairer then the morne: Which cannot be sufficiently commended; Whose Sun-bright Beauty doeth the Worlde adorne, Adorns the World, but specially the Purse; Without whose pressence, nothing can be worse. Not faire _Hæsione_ (King of _Priams_ sister) Did euer showe more Beauty, in her face, Then can this louely Lady, if it list her To showe her selfe; admir'd for comely grace: Which neither Age can weare, nor Tyme conclude; For why, her Beauty yeerely is renude. New Coyne is coynd each yeare, within the Tower; So that her Beauty neuer can decay: Which to resist, no mortall man hath Power, When as she doeth her glorious Beames display. Nor doeth _Pecunia_, onely please the eie, But charms the eare, with heauenly Harmonie.