Whil'st euery youth to entertaine his loue,
Did straine his wits as farre as they might reach,
And arming passions with a pow'rfull speach,
Vsde each patheticke phrase that seru'd to moue:
Then to some corner still retir'd alone,
I, whom melancholly from mirth did leade,
As hauing view'd Medusaes snakie head,
Seem'd metamorphos'd in a marble stone:
And as that wretched mirrour of mischiefe,
Whom earst Apollo spoil'd, doth still shed teares,
And in a stone the badge of sorrow beares,
While as a humid vapor shewes her griefe:
So whil'st transform'd as in a stone I stay,
A firie smoke doth blow my griefe away.