Whose was the wit, Urania did praise?
Whose were the lips, Artesia's voice commended?
Whose was the heart loved all? all crowned with bays?
"Sure 'twas myself! What did I? O I tremble!
Yet I'll not weep! Wise men may love dissemble.
"Fie, no! Fond Love hath ever his reward!
A sea of tears! a world of sighs and groans!
Ah me! Vitullia will have no regard
To ease my grief, and cure me of my moans;