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Elegy. Iulia
Hearke news, ô Enuy, Thou shalt heare descry'd [150]
My Iulia, who as yet was ner'e enuy'd.
To vomit gall in slander, swell her vaynes
With Calumny that Hell it selfe disdaynes
Is her continewall practize, does her best
To teare opinion even out of the brest
Of dearest frinds, and (wch is worse then vild)
Sticks Iealousy in Wedlock, her owne child
Scapes not the showres of Enuy, To repeate
The monstrous fashions how, were aliue to eate
Deare reputation. Would to god shee were
But halfe so lothe to act vice, as to heare
My mild reproofe. Liu'd Mantuan now agen
That femall Mastix to lim̄ with his penn
This shee Chymera that hath eyes of fire
Burning with anger, anger feedes desire,
Tongud like the Night Crowe, whose ill boding cryes
Giue out for nothing but new iniuryes,
Her breath like to the Iuyce in Tenarus
That blasts the Springs though ner'e so prosperous.
Her hands, I knowe not how, vsd more to spill
The foode of others then her selfe to fill.
But ô her mind, that Orcus, wch encludes
Legions of mischeefes, countlesse multitudes
Of formelesse curses, proiects vnmade vp,
Abuses yet vnfashiond, thoughts corrupt
Mishapen Cauils, palpable vntroths
Inevitable Errors selfe-accusing lothes

[CW: These]