Heaven knowes, and your more temperate minde hereafter[60]
May let my penitent miseries make you know.
Mont. Hereafter! tis a suppos'd infinite
That from this point will rise eternally.
Fame growes in going; in the scapes of vertue
Excuses damne her: they be fires in cities[65]
Enrag'd with those winds that lesse lights extinguish.
Come syren, sing, and dash against my rocks
Thy ruffin gally rig'd with quench for lust:
Sing, and put all the nets into thy voice