Why cosin, stand you building Cities here,
And beautifying the Empire of this Queene,
While Italy is cleane out of thy minde?
To too forgetfull of thine owne affayres,
Why wilt thou so betray thy sonnes good hap?
The king of Gods sent me from highest heaven,
To sound this angrie message in thine eares.
Vaine man, what Monarky expectst thou here?
Or with what thought sleepst thou in Libia
shoare?
If that all glorie hath forsaken thee,
And thou despise the praise of such attempts:
Yet thinke upon Ascanius prophesie,
And yong Iulus
more then thousand yeares,
Whom I have brought from Ida where he slept,
And bore yong Cupid unto Cypresse Ile.
