Who by that time had plained his brow from frowns,
760And all becalmed with sugarèd words doth come:
Then tells his lady he had found a tow'r,
Would guard Bellama from Jove's yellow show'r.
Servants are posted to the old Exchange,
Others to sellers of the silkworm's spoils,
Some to brisk Proteuses, smirk tailors, range,
Some to the stationers, some haste for oils.
One carves the image of a martyred saint,
Another breathes a soul with gold or paint.