University of Virginia Library

To Master W. Mountague.

Sir, I arest you at your Countreyes suit,
Who as a debt to her, requires the fruit
Of that rich stock; which she by Natures hand
Gave you in trust, to th'use of this whole Land.
Next, she endites you of a Felonie,
For stealing, what was her Proprietie.
Your selfe from hence, so seeking to convey
The publike treasure of the state away.
More, y'are accus'd of Ostracisme, the Fate
Impos'd of old by the Athenian state
On eminent vertue, but that curse which they
Cast on their men, You on your Countrey lay.
For, thus divided from your noble parts
This Kingdome lives in exile, and all hearts
That rellish worth, or honour, being rent
From your perfections, suffer banishment:
These are your publike injuries; but I
Have a just private quarrell to defie
And call you Coward, thus to run away
When you had pierc'd my heart, not daring stay
Till I redeem'd my honour; but I sweare
By Celia's eyes, by the same force to teare
Your heart from you, or not to end this strife
Till I or find revenge, or lose my life.
But as in single fights it oft hath beene
In that unequall equall tryall seene,
That he who had receiv'd the wrong at first,
Came from the Combat oft too with the worst;
So if you foyle me when we meet, I'le then
Give you fayre leave to wound me so agen.