On horsebacke met him in his furious race,
Yet each prepar’de with Fannes well shading grace,
From that foes wounds their tender skinnes to hide.
Stella alone, with face unarmed marcht,
Either to doe like him, which open shone:
Or carelesse of the welth, because her owne.
Yet were the hid and meaner beauties parcht,
Her dainties bare went free; the cause was this,
The Sunne which others burnt, did her but kisse.
The curious wits, seeing dull pensivenes