"Th’ Assyrians’ king, in peace with foul desire And filthy lust that stained his regal heart, In war, that should set princely hearts afire, Vanquished did yield for want of martial art. The dent of swords from kisses seemed strange, And harder than his lady’s side his targe; From glutton feasts to soldiers’ fare a change His helmet far above a garland’s charge. Who scarce the name of manhood did retain Drenched in sloth and womanish delight, Feeble of sprete, unpatient of pain, When he had lost his honour and his right (Proud time of wealth, in storms appalled with dread) Murdered himself to show some manful deed."