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- # THE RAPE OF LYCRECE.
Looke looke how listning **PRIAM** wets his eyes,
To see those borrowed teares that **SINON** sheeds,
**PRIAM** why art thou old, and yet not wise?
For euerie teare he fals a Troian bleeds:
His eye drops fire, no water shence proceeds,
Those roud clear pearls of his that moue thy pitty,
Are bals of quenchlesse fire to burne thy City.
Such Deuils steale effects from lightlesse Hell,
For **SINON** in his fire doth quake with cold,
And in that cold hot burning fire doth dwell,
These contraries such vnitie do hold,
Only to flatter fooles, and make them bold,
So **PRIAMS** trust false **SINONS** teares doth flatter,
That he finds means to burne his Troy with water.
Here all inrag’d such passion her assailes,
That patience is quite beaten from her breast,
Shee tears the fenceleffe **SINON** with her nailes,
Comparing him to that vahappie guest,
VVhose deede hath made herfelse, herfelse detest,
At last shee smilingly with this giues ore,
Foole fool, quoth she, his wounds wil not be fore.
L 2
ll. 1548—1568
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