XV.
Wit without wealth is bad, yet counted good,
Wealth wanting wisdom's worse, yet deem'd as wel,
Erom whence (for ay) doth flow, as from a flood,
A pleasant Poyson, and a heauenly Hell,
Where mortall men do couet still to dwell.
Yet one there is to Vertue so inclin'd,
That as for Maiesty she beares the Bell,
So in the truth who tries her princelie minde.
Both Wisdom, Beauty, Wealth, & all in her shall find.
XVI.
In Westerne world amids the Ocean maine.
In compleat Vertue shining like the Sunne,
In great Renowne a maiden Queene doth raigne,
Whose royall Race, in Ruine first begun,
Till Heauens bright Lamps dissolue shall nere bee done
In whose faire eies Loue linckt with vertues been,
In euerlasting Peace and Vnion.
Which sweet Consort in her full well beseeme,
Of Bounty, and of Beauty fairest Fayrie Queene.
