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And sin though it be foule, yet faire in this,
In being painted with a show of blis.
For what more happie creature to the eie,
Then is Superbia in her brauerie?
Yet who more foule disrobed of attire?
Perld with the botch as children burnt with fire,
That for their outward cloake vpon the skin,
Worser enormities abound within.
Looke they to that, truth tels them there amis,
And in this glasse, all telling truth it is.
When welcome Spring had the hils in green,
And pretty whistling birds where heard and seen,
Superbia abrode gan take her walke,
With other peacocks for to finde her talke.
Kyron that in a bush lay closely couched,
Heard all their chat, and how it was auouched:
Sister sayes one, and softly packt away,
In what faire company did you dine today?
Mongst gallant dames, & then she wipes her lips,
Placing both hands vpon her whalebone hips,