LXVII
Ah! wherefore with infection should he live, And with his presence grace impiety1, That sin by him advantage should achieve, And lace itself with his society? Why should false painting imitate his cheek, And steel dead seeming of his living hue2? Why should poor beauty indirectly3 seek Roses of shadow, since his rose is true? Why should he live, now Nature bankrupt is, Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins4? For she hath no exchequer5 now but his, And proud of many, lives upon his gains. O! him she stores, to show what wealth she had In days long since, before these last so bad.