 | Pandora
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[Had with moorning the Gods, left their willes vndon]
Had
with moorning the Gods, left their willes vndon,
They had not so soone herited such a soule:
Or if the mouth, tyme dyd not glotton vp all.
Nor I, nor the world, were depriu'd of my Sonne,
Whose brest Venus, with a face dolefull and milde,
Dooth washe with golden teares, inueying the skies:
And when the water of the Goddesses eyes,
Makes almost aliue, the Marble, of my Childe:
One byds her leaue styll, her dollor so extreme,
Telling her it is not, her young sonne Papheme,
To which she makes aunswer with a voice inflamed,
(Feeling therewith her venime, to be more bitter)
As I was of Cupid, euen so of it mother:
“And a womans last chylde, is the most beloued.
| Pandora
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