Chayne thousand vassalls in like thrall with mee,
10Wch in thy glory mayst thou still despise,
As the poore Trophyes of that victory
Which thou hast onely purchasd by thine eyes;
And when thy Triumphs so extended are
That there is nought left to bee conquered,
15Mayst thou with the great Monarchs mournfull care
Weepe that thine Honors are so limited;
So thy disdayne may melt it selfe to love
By an unlookd for and a wondrous change,