she, “the wanton god embraced me!”
      And then she clasped Adonis in her arms;
      “Even thus,” quoth she, “the warlike god unlaced me!”
      As if the boy should use like loving charms. 
    But he, a wayward boy, refused the offer,
      And ran away the beauteous queen neglecting
      Showing both folly to abuse her proffer,
      And all his sex of cowardice detecting. 
    O that I had my mistress at that bay,
    To kiss and clip me till I ran away!

    IV

    Did you sometimes three German brethren see,
      Rancour ’twixt two of them so raging rife,
      That th’ one could stick the other with his knife? 
    Now if the third assaulted chance to be
    By a fourth stranger, him set on the three,
      Them two ’twixt whom afore was deadly strife
      Made one to rob the stranger of his life;
    Then do you know our state as well as we. 
      Beauty and chastity with her were born,
    Both at one birth, and up with her did grow. 
      Beauty still foe to chastity was sworn,
    And chastity sworn to be beauty’s foe;
      And yet when I lay siege unto her heart,
      Beauty and chastity both take her part.

    V

    Arraigned, poor captive at the bar I stand,
      The bar of beauty, bar to all my joys;
      And up I hold my ever trembling hand,
      Wishing or life or death to end annoys. 
    And when the judge doth question of the guilt,
      And bids me speak, then sorrow shuts up words. 
      Yea, though he say, “Speak boldly what thou wilt!”
      Yet my confused affects no speech affords,
    For why?  Alas, my passions have no bound,
      For fear of death that penetrates so near;
      And still one grief another doth confound,
      Yet doth at length a way to speech appear. 
    Then, for I speak too late, the Judge doth give
    His sentence that in prison I shall live.

    VI

    Unhappy sentence, worst of worst of pains,
      To be in darksome silence, out of ken,
      Banished from all that bliss the world contains,
      And thrust from out the companies of men! 
    Unhappy sentence, worse than worst of deaths,
      Never to see Fidessa’s lovely face! 
      O better were I lose ten thousand breaths,
      Than ever live in such unseen disgrace! 
    Unhappy sentence, worse than pains of hell,
      To live in self-tormenting griefs alone;
      Having my heart, my prison and my cell,
      And there consumed without relief to moan! 
    If that the sentence so unhappy be,
    Then what am I that gave the same to me?

    VII

    Oft have mine eyes, the agents of mine heart,
      False traitor eyes conspiring my decay,
      Pleaded for grace with dumb and silent art,
      Streaming forth tears my sorrows to allay;