(For life was in her lookes, death in her hart.)
For pledge that I am pleas'd receiue (quoth shee)
This rich wrought robe, thy Clytemnestras toile:
Her ten yeeres worke this day shall honour thee,
For ten yeeres war, and one daies glorious spoile:
Whil'st thou contendedst there, I heere did this:
Weare it my loue, my life, my ioy, my blisse.
Scarce had the Syren said what I haue write,
But he (kind Prince) by her milde words misled,
Receiu'd the robe, to trie if it were fit;