Whose like in any age hath seldome been:
Cease vipers, cease I say, from your offence,
In spitting poyson at such excellence.
21.
Yet, if your English Romanized hearts,
Gainst nature’s custome swell with foule defame,
Brandish your stings, and cast your vtmost darts
Against the greatnesse of her glorious name,
Yet shall it liue to your eternall shame;
Yea, though Rome, Spaine, and hell it selfe repine,