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Of form than Alcibiades,

Whose beauteous shape perforce must please All who beheld it, so the hand

Of Nature had in seeming planned

A godlike man, but who within

Should look would find him foul with sin.

And thus hath great Boethius said,

Whose wit was with fair virtue wed.

And he doth Aristotle call

To witness, as a man whom all

Put faith in, forasmuch as he

Declares a lynx may clearly see

Whate’er he will, right through and through.

Past doubt it must be owned for true

That Beauty is to Chastity

In nowise friendly, as we see

In many a legend, tale and song

Related, but unending wrong

Will do to her. War to the death

They wage so long as each draws breath,

And neither one will yield a foot,

Striving the other to uproot:

But all unequal is the fight,

And, whether in assault or flight,

Cold Chastity is overcome,

And lastly falling, worn and glum,

Throws down her arms. E’en Ugliness,

Her handmaid, seeing her distress,

Forbears to help her, but doth strive

The damsel forth her house to drive,