All browes that smil'd beneath them, frown'd; hearts griev'd
By imitation; vertue quite was vanisht,25
And all men studi'd selfe-love, fraud, and vice.
Then no man could be good but he was punisht.
Tyrants, being still more fearefull of the good
Then of the bad, their subjects vertues ever
Manag'd with curbs and dangers, and esteem'd30
As shadowes and detractions to their owne.
Bal. Now all is peace, no danger, now what followes?
Idlenesse rusts us, since no vertuous labour