Scena quinta.
SATYR.
" AS frosts to Plants, to ripened Ears a storm,
" To Flowrs the mid-day sun, to Seed the worm,
" To Stags the toyls, to Birds the lime-twig; so
" Is Love to man an everlasting Foe.
And he that call'd it fire pierc'd well into
Its treach'rous nature; for if fire thou view,
How bright and beautifull it is? Approacht,
How warm and comfortable? But then toucht,
O how it burns! The monster-bearing earth
Did never teem such a prodigious birth:
It cuts like razors, like wild beasts devours,
And through a wood like winged lightning scowrs.
Where-ere it fixes its imperious foot,
Cottage and Pallace, all must yeeld unto 't:
So Love, if thou behold it in a pair
Of starry eyes, in a bright tresse of hair,