Since that in him doth cruel Death appall
Both Manhood, Wit and Learning every way:
But yet he doth in bed of Honour rest,
And evermore of him shall live the best.
And in another place thus;
When Venus sad saw Philip Sidney slain,
She wept, supposing Mars that he had been,
From Fingers Rings, and from her Neck the Chain
She pluckt away, as if Mars ne'er again
She meant to please, in that form he was in,