High-mounted on an ant, Nanus the tall
Was throwne, alas, and got a deadly fall;
Vnder th' unruly beast's proud feet he lies
All torne: with much adoe yet ere he dyes
Hee straines these words: Base Envy, doe laugh on:
Thus did I fall, and thus fell Phaethon.
V.
Vpon Venus putting-on Mars his armes.
What, Mars his sword? faire Cytherea, say,
Why art thou arm'd so desperately to-day?
Mars thou hast beaten naked; and, O then,
What needst thou put on armes against poore men?
VI.
Vpon the same.
Pallas saw Venus arm'd, and straight she cry'd:
Come if thou dar'st; thus, thus let us be try'd.
Why, foole! saies Venus, thus provok'st thou mee,
That being nak't, thou know'st could conquer thee?
VII.
Out of Martiall.
Foure teeth thou hadst, that, ranck'd in goodly state,
Kept thy mouth's gate.
The first blast of thy cough left two alone;
The second, none.
This last cough, Delia, cought-out all thy feare;
Th' hast left the third cough now no business here.