Peccavi, to a vertuous Lady, who was vitiously solicited by a Gentleman whilst she was in her mourning.

AS guilty men unto the Altar flye
There to appease th' incensed Deity,
After the sin of Blasphemie, or blood
Took from the brests of Innocents, whose flood
Cryes up to heaven for vengeance; so come I
To beg a pardon for this heresie
Against your honor: Truth her self can tell
No unbeseeming action, such as sell
The looser wantons of our times, made me
Attempt to break your chrystal chastity:
I saw no gesture in you that could say
I might have hopes to win the fatal day
Of your undoing; but you did appear
Stainless, and more immortal then you are
Or can be, till the hand of heaven shall
Transform your ashes to a funeral:
Some men desire to speckle whitest paper.
Venus will light her torch at Vesta's taper:
It is a truth divided from all doubt,
That ne'er a Nun'ry can keep Cupid out:
I know your melting eyes, and mourning dress
Might mortifie anothers wantonness,
But it exalted mine, as if my flame
Could feed upon no fuel but your Fame.
This crime relates to that in Paradice,
Your vertue was the Author of my vice.
Your frowns advanc'd my blood, and made it boile,
Your Prayers were Bonfires, and your tears were oile
(To contract all) what ever I could see
Like frost in you, was a fierce flame in me.
"So cowards when made Conqueror, do boast,
"And are more cruel when their slaves beg most.
I faine would plead excuses, if I cou'd
Alledge the frailty of our flesh and blood,
Your feature and my love; your youth and tongue,
That so I might extenuate the wrong.
But my Religion sayes, To do one sin
And then excuse it, brings another in:
No, I'll submit to pardon: you that have
Ability to judge, have power to save
Your penitent offender: I confess
My fault so criminal, I must address
My self unto your mercy, and I spie
Her silver wing spread in your either eye
To entertain my sute; remove the Bar,
The witnesses and Executioner.
You shall for this no Judge, or Jury call,
At your own pleasure, I will stand or fall.