Beauty and Maiesty are falne at ods,
Th' one claimes his cheeke, the other claimes his chin;
Then Vertue comes, and puts her title in.
(Quoth she) I make him like th' immortall Gods.
(Quoth Maiestie) I owne his lookes, his Brow,
His lips (quoth Loue), his eies, his faire is mine.
And yet (quoth Maiesty) he is not thine,
I mixe Disdaine with Loue's congealed Snow.
I, but (quoth Loue) his lockes are mine (by right),
His stately gate is mine (quoth Maiestie),
And mine (quoth Vertue) is his Modestie.
Thus as they striue about the heauenly wight,
At last the other two to Vertue yeeld
The lists of Loue, fought in faire Beauties field.