Thy wretched wife mistook the matter so,
For love can comment upon every woe.
And being low never relieved by any.
For misery is trodden on by many,

The life of purity, the supreme fair, 
A thousand lamentable objects there,
Resembling strong youth in his middle age,
If in thy hope thou darest do such outrage,

Make but my name thy love, and love that still,
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.
Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art,
And to the painted banquet bids my heart;

Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you.
And made myself a motley to the view,
They that have power to hurt and will do none,
'My tongue cannot express my grief for one,

Thus hoping that Adonis is alive,
'Yea, though I die, the scandal will survive,
Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
'Then Love and Fortune be my gods, my guide!

With soft-slow tongue, true mark of modesty,
The sun ariseth in his majesty;
Your name from hence immortal life shall have,
Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave,

So did this horse excel a common one
As mountain-snow melts with the midday sun.
As, but for loss of Nestor's golden words,
Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Then look I death my days should expiate.
For thou art all, and all things else are thine.
And the firm soil win of the watery main,

Far from the purpose of his coming hither,
Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are;
If he did see his face, why then I know
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!

And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye,
And heavy ignorance aloft to fly
To critic and to flatterer stopped are.
Anon he starts at stirring of a feather;

'How like a jade he stood, tied to the tree,
Love made them not: with acture they may be,
So he were like him and by Venus' side.
Wishing Adonis had his team to guide,

'Courageous Roman, do not steep thy heart
For still temptation follows where thou art.
Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale:
Whose ranks of blue veins, as his hand did scale,

'You hurt my hand with wringing; let us part,
And my heart's right thy inward love of heart.
His rudeness so with his authorized youth
When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth.

By her untimely tears, her husband's love,
Since my appeal says I did strive to prove
Doth in her poison'd closet yet endure.'
To accessary yieldings, but still pure

Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest,
All these I better in one general best.
As in revenge or quittal of such strife:
Answer'd their cries, 'my daughter' and 'my wife.'

Replies her husband: 'do not take away
'Make me not object to the tell-tale Day!
Writ in the glassy margents of such books:
If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks

Your love and pity doth the impression fill
But she with vehement prayers urgeth still
Into the quiet closure of my breast;
Although she knows my days are past the best,

Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score;
'But this foul, grim, and urchin-snouted boar,
Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.

'And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety,
Then let it not be call'd impiety,
Threw my affections in his charmed power,
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour

This Plot of death when sadly she had laid,
'Madam, ere I was up,' replied the maid,
Let him have time a beggar's orts to crave,
As slanderous death's-man to so base a slave?