Stands ready with all these to stopp their breath.
The beare comes by that oft hath bayted ben
By many a Satyres whelpe; unlesse you can
Commaund your eies to drop huge milstones forth,
In lamentation of this losse on earth
Of her, of whome so much prayse wee may finde,
Goe when shee will, shee’l leave none like behinde;
Shee was too good for earth, too bad for heaven.
Why then for hell the match is somewhat even.