Who, when their owne wilde lust is falsely spent,
Cry out, “My lord, my lord is impotent.”
Nor hast thou in his nuptiall armes enjoy’d
Barren imbraces, but wert girl’d and boy’d:
Twice-pretty-ones thrice worthier were their youth
Might shee but bring them up, that brought them forth:
Shee would have taught them by a thousand straines,
(Her bloud runns in their manners, not their veines)
That glory is a lye; state a grave sport;
And country sicknesse above health at court.