Now I perceiue PYTHAGORAS diuin'd,
When he that mocked Maxim did maintaine,
That Spirits once spoyl'd, reuested were againe,
Though chang'd in shape, remaining one in Mind;
These loue-sicke Princes passionate estates;
Who feeling reades, he cannot but allow,
That OVIDS soule reuiues in DRAYTON now,
Still learn'd in Loue, still rich in rare Conceits,
This pregnant Spirit affecting further Skill,
Oft alt'ring Forme, from vulgar Wits retir'd,
In diuers Idyoms mightily admir'd,
Did prosecute that sacred Studie still;
While to a full Perfection now attain'd,
He sings so sweetly that himselfe is stain'd.
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