Temperantia

HEERE Temperance I stand, of virtues, Queene,
Who moderate all humane vaine desires,
Wherefore a bridle in my hand is seene,
To curbe affection, that too farre aspires:
I'th other hand, that golden cup doth show,
Vnto excesse I am a deadly foe.

For when to lustes, I loosely let the raine,
And yeeld to each suggesting appetite,
Man to his ruine, headlong runnes amaine,
To frendes great greife, and enimies delight:
No conquest doubtles, may with that compare,
Of our affectes, when we the victors are.