(85) Who hath not liu’d, and yet hath seene I say, That might offend chaste hearers to endure, Who hath bene haled on, to touch, and play, And yet not stowpt to pleasures wanton lure.
Crowne him with laurell, for his victorie, (90) Clad him in purple, and in scarlet die? Enroll his name in bookes of memorie, Ne let the honor of his conquest die.
More roiall in his triumph, than the man, +Whom tygres drew in coach of burnisht golde, (95) In whom the Roman Monarchie began, Whose works of worth, no wit hath erst controlde.
Elysium be his walke, high heauen his shrine, His drinke, sweete Nectar, and Ambrosia, The foode that makes immortall and diuine, (100) Be his to taste, to make him liue for ay:
And that I may in briefe describe his due, What lasting honor vertues guerdon is, So much and more his iust desart pursue, Sith his desart awards it to be his.
To thee + in honor of whose gouernment, Entitled is this praise of Chastitie, My gentle friend, these hastie lines are ment, So flowreth vertue like the laurell tree, (5) Immortall greene, that euere eie may see, And well was Daphne turnd into the bay, Whose chastnes triumphes, growes, & liues for ay.