Alluding to the Sparrow pursued by a Hawke, that flew into the bosome of Zenocrates.

VVhilst by thy eies pursu'd, my poore heart flew
Into the sacred Refuge of thy brest:
Thy rigor in that Sanctuary slew
That which thy succring mercy should haue blest.
No priuiledge of faith could it protect,
Faith being with blood, and fiue yeares witnes sign'd,
Wherein no shew gaue cause of least suspect,
For well thou saw'st my loue and how I pin'd
Yet no mild comfort would thy Brow reueale,
No lightning lookes which falling hopes erect:
What bootes to lawes of Succor to appeale?
Ladies and Tyrants, neuer lawes respect.
Then there I die from whence my life should come,
And by that hand whom such deeds ill become.