Cùm larvis non luctandum
When Hectors force, throughe mortall wounde did faile,
And life beganne, to dreadefull deathe to yeelde:
The Greekes moste gladde, his dyinge corpes assaile,
Who late did flee before him in the fielde:
Which when he sawe, quothe hee nowe worke your spite,
For so, the hares the Lion dead doe byte.
Looke here upon, you that doe wounde the dead,
With slaunders vile, and speeches of defame:
Or bookes procure, and libelles to be spread,
When they bee gone, for to deface theire name:
Who while they liv'de, did feare you with theire lookes,
And for theire skill, you might not beare their bookes.