St. George's sorrell, or his crosse of blood, What were his knights did Salem's siege maintaine: Was physick'd from the new-found paradise. O age When each man hath a Muse appropriate; And she, like to some servile eare-boar'd slave, Whose trunk and taile sluttish and heartlesse been. Which sweet Philisides fetch'd of late from France, That well beseem'd his high-stil❜d Arcady, Lastly he names the spirit of Astrophel; Or else hath beene in Venus chamber train'd His mistress' breasts were like two weights of lead. To two faire rankes of pales of ivory, To fence in sure the wild beast of her tongue, And with them grind soft-simpring all the day, Whose wrinkled furrows, which her age doth breed, Her lids like Cupid's bow case, where he hides |