Thine undeserved name, wonne honour thence.
Some deepe interr’d, within thy bosome lye,
Some rot, some rent, some torne in peeces small:
Some warlike maim’d, some lame, some halting crye:
Some blowne through Clouds, some brought to deadly thral,
Whose dire defects, renew’d with ghostly mones,
May match the Thebane, or the Trojan groanes:
Base fisher towne, that fang’d thy nets before,
And drencht into the deepe thy food to win:
Art thou become a Tragicke stage, and more