XXV
Now swome a prison in a prison put, And now this Soule in double walls was shut, Till melted with the Swans digestive fire, She left her house the fish, and vapour'd forth; Fate not affording bodies of more worth For her as yet, bids her againe retire T'another fish, to any new desire Made a new prey; For, be that can to none Resistance make, nor complaint, sure is gone. Weaknesse invites, but silence feasts oppression.