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- # VENVS AND ADONIS.
A thousand spleenes beare her a thousand wayes,
She treads the path, that she vntreads againe;
Her more then hast, is mated with delayes,
Like the proceedings of a drunken braine,
Full of respects, yet naught at all respecting,
In hand with all things, naught at all effecting.
Here kenneld in a brake, she finds a hound,
And askes the wearie caitiffe for his maister,
And there another licking of his wound,
Gainst venimd sores, the onely foueraigne plaister.
And here she meets another, sadly skowling,
To whom she speaks, & he replies with howling.
VWhen he hath ceast his ill resounding noise,
Another flapmouthd mourner, blacke, and grim,
Against the welkin, volies out his voyce,
Another, and another, answer him,
Clapping their proud tailes to the ground below,
Shaking their scratch-eares, bleeding as they go.
Looke how, the worlds poore people are amazed,
At apparitions, signes, and prodigies,
VVhereon with seareful eyes, they long haue gazed,
Infusing them with dreadfull prophecies;
So she at these sad signes, draws vp her breath,
And sighing it againe, exclaims on death.
II. 907—930
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