They weary by the way do stay their race,
And rest them in this pleasaunt bitter place.
6.
They meane as there no long delayes to make,
But Bacchus’ comely carpites so do please,
Such courtly caues, such mirth, such quiet ease
They haue, that they to Venus them betake,
The wearye wayes of vertue they forsake:
Those trustlesse traynes from dolor, and disease,
Doubtlesse do come to drowne in surging seas