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Sonnet. 6.

[Of Pyladeus, and of Oresteus, we haue]

Of Pyladeus, and of Oresteus, we haue
made many disputes, in the temple of death:
And in the Church of Troy, we prooue Choreb's faith,
Who made for Cassander, his harnes, his graue.
And there is one, on the mountaine Caucasein,
With an Eagle, on his heart Philosiphâll.
And there is a stone of a mad Cisyphâll,
Leaft alwayes behind him, and caried in vaine.
These temples, and this rocke, is in my obiect:
The church is my soule, the flint is my subiect.
My verses are the labours of Sisyphêus:
And for willing shew your fayre beauties, its vaine.
Of Promet, for not canning. I haue the paine:
Th'Eagle's cruell, and (Nymphe) you are rigrous.