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The honest ghost

or a voice from the vault [by Richard Brathwait]

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Upon our Ages Messalina, insatiat Madona, the matchless English Corombona.
 
 
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99

Upon our Ages Messalina, insatiat Madona, the matchless English Corombona.

Here lies Lust,
Revenge, Defame.
Woe to man, to woman shame;
Faire and false, as great as ill,
Weake in Grace, but strong in Will.
Honours blemish, Hymens stayne,
Virtues poyson, Beauties baine,
Albions-Siren, tyrant-woman,
Faith-infringer, true to no man;
Femall-Divell, plots-contriver,
Worths-tormenter, lifes depriver;
Tragick actor, blood effuser,
Times corrupter, States-abuser;
Brothel-Turner, virgin-Trader,
Husband-hater, Lusts-perswader;
Ages-monster, youths-deflourer,
Worlds-rumor, wealths-devourer;
Painted-Idol, Arts-new-creature,
Ladie in a Pages feature;

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Soyle to the soile where shee was bred,
Poys'ning most where shee was fed;
Vices-harbor, times quotation,
Double troth'd by Dispensation;
Nights deere-Minion, Lights abjurer,
Souls-eclipser, sinnes-securer;
Vault of darkness, horrors-Heire;
Childe to Mischiefe and Despaire;
Saint-appearing, maid-protesting,
Yet both Saint and Maid molesting;
Saint with sorrow, Maid with furie,
Tried by a woman-Jurie;
Seeming-try'd, yet was afraid
To be censur'd for a Maid;
Therefore chus'd a Maid indeede
To be searched in her steede;
Mask'd, for so did shame require,
Suited in her owne attyre;
Thus shee passed undescryde,
Found a Maid, yet never tryde.
One that knew the way to marrie
Not by Priest but Pothecarie;
Whose Receits, which Art allow'd her
To applie, were Spiders pouder,
Copprice, Vitriol, which in part
Shew'd her skill in Chymick art.
Thus she liv'd, and thus she di'd,
Serpents brood, and Sathans bride,
Pitied least when most distrest,
Hated most when envied lest:

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So as question may be made,
Whether that her Corps now laid
And inter'd in Natures brest
Will endure in Earth to rest,
Or her ashes after death
Will not with infectious breath
Staine that holy plot of ground,
Where her lustfull-Corps are found.
But howere her body be,
Sure I am that infamie
Will ne'r leave her, but will have
Still her foote upon her Grave.
Graving this upon her Tombe
As a Theame in time to come:
Here lies young Messalina, whose foul lust,
Pios'd with revenge, proves thus much; God is just!
For heate of lust, immixt with height of blood
Had never deeper dye in Womanhood.