It is a praise, to praise where thou art praised.
Stella, whence doth these newe assaults arise,
A conquerd, yeelding, ransackt hart to win?
Whereto long since, through my long battred eyes,
Whole Armies of thy beauties entred in,
And there long since, Love thy Lieuetenant lyes,
My forces raz’d, thy banners rais’d within
Of conquest, what do these effects suffise,
But wilt new warre uppon thine owne begin,
With so sweet voyce, and by sweet nature so,