Because the confcience gladly would mistake
Her own misdeeds which she would fain remove;
And they that are unwilling to mend,
Will take offence, because they wil offend.
xxviii.

Or having run beyond all pardon quite,
They fly and join with fin as wholly his,
Making it now their fide, their part, their right,
And to turn back, would fhew t' have done amifs :-
For now they think, not to be oppofite

To what upbraids their fault, were wickedness:
So much doth folly thrust them into blame,
That even to leave off fhame, they count it fhame.

250

And with the rich provifions I prepar'd
For thy (intended Parthian war) made haste,
Weighing not how my poor weak body far'd,
But all the tedious difficulties past:

And came to Athens; whence I Niger fent,
To fhew thee of my coming and intent.

Upon whofe back, a wanton mermaid fat,
As if the rul'd his course, and fteer'd his fate.

XLVIII.

With whom t' encounter, forth another makes, Alike in kind, of strength and pow'r as good: At whose engrappling, Neptune's mantle takes A purple colour, dy'd with streams of blood; Whereat this looker on, amaz'd, forfakes Her champion there, who yet the better flood: But fee'ng her gone, straight after he flies, As if his heart and strength lay in her eyes.

XLIX.

On follows wrath upon disgrace and fear, Whereof th' event forfook me with the night, But my wak'd cares, gave me, these fhadows

were

Drawn but from darkness to inftruct the light,
These fecret figures, nature's meffage bear
Of coming woes, were thy decipher'd right;
But if as clouds of fleep thou shalt them take,
Yet credit wrath and spight that are awake.

L.

Prevent, great fpirit, the tempefts that begin, If luft and thy ambition have left way But to look out, and have not shut all in, To ftop thy judgmont from a true furvey Of thy eftate, and let thy heart within Confider in what danger thou doft lay Thy life and mine, to leave the good thou haft, To follow hopes with fhadows overcaft.

LI.

Come, come away from wrong, from craft, from toil,

Poffefs thine own with right, with truth, with peace:
Break from these fnares, thy judgment unbeguile,
Free thine own torment, and my grief release.
But whither am I carried all this while
Beyond my scope, and know not when to cease?
Words ftill with my increasing sorrows grough:
I know t' have said too much, but not enough.
Wherefore, no more, but only I commend
To thee the heart that's thine, and so I end,