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Elegy. Iulia |
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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
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[CW: These] |