The curelesse griefes that vexe him still
For feare and faintnes falleth?
O Antonie with thy deare mate
Both in misfortunes fortunate!
Whose thoughts to death aspiring
Shall you protect from victors rage,
Who on each side doth you encage,
To triumph much desiring.
That Cæsar may you not offend
Nought else but Death can you defend,