I.W.

_To his Louing friend and_ Kinsman:

W.B.

Thamis _nere heard a Song equall to this,

Although the Swan that ow'd this present quill

Sung to that Eccho, her owne Epitaph

As proude to die, and render up her wing

To Venus Swan, who doth more pleasing sing,

Produce thy worke & tell the powerfull tale.

Of naked Cupid, and his mothers will

My selfe I doe confine from_ Helicon,

_As loath to see the other Muses nine,

So imodestlie eye shoot, and gaze uppon

Their new borne enuie: this tenth Muse of thine,

Which in my selfe I doe in thee admire,

As_ Aesops _Satire the refulgent fire,

Which may me burn, (I mean with amorous flame

In reading, as the kissing that did him_.

_And happie Mirrha that he rips thy shame,

Since he so queintly doth expresse thy sin,

Many would write, but see mens workes so rare,

That of their owne they instantly dispaire._

Robert Glouer.

_To his esteemed friend._

W.B.

_Not for our friendship, or for hope of gaine

Doth my pen run so swiftly in thy praise:

Court-seruile flatterie I doe disdaine,

"Enuie like Treason, stil it selfe betraies.

This worke Detractions sting, doth disinherit:

He that giues thee all praise, giues but thy merrit._

Lewes Machin.

To his respected friend.

W.B.

_Poet, nor art thou without due desert, stil'd by that name:

Though folly smile, and enuy frowne, to heare the same.

Yet those who read thy worke with due respect,

Will place thee with the worthiest of that sect.

Then let not ignorance, nor enuie mooue thee

Thou hast done well, they do not that reproue thee:

Yet some (true worth nere wants an opposite) will Carpers be:

Grieue not at this, not vertues selfe can scape their obloquie,

But giue the raynes vnto these baser spirits,

Whose Iudgements cannot paralell thy merrits,

Such fooles (to seeme iudicious) take in hand,

To censure what they doe not vnderstand._

_Yet cannot they detract, or wrong thy worth, maugre their spight:

For thou doost chaunt incestuous_ Myrrha _forth, with such delight,

And with such gould[=e] phrase gild'st ore her crime

That what's moste diabolicall, seemes deuine.

and who so but begins the same to reade

Each powerfull line, attracts him to proceede.

Then since he best deserues the Palme to weare, Who wins the same:

Doe thou alone injoy those sweets, which beare thy Mirrhas name.

And euer weare in memorie of her,

an anademe of odoriferous_ Mirrhe,

_and let_ Apollo, _thinke it no dispraise,

To weare thy_ Mirrhe, _& ioyne it with his bayes._

William Bagnall.

Mirrha,

_The Mother of A_-

donis.

I sing the ruine of a beautious Maide,

White as my paper, or loues fairest Doue,

shine bright _Apollo_, Muse be not affraide,

Although thou chauntest of vnnaturall loue.

Great is my quill, to bring foorth such a birth,

as shall abash the Virgins of our earth.

smoake Goulden censors vpon _Paphos_ shrine,

drinke deep _Leneus_ to this worke of mine.

_Cupid_ to _Thracia_ went to heare a Song

of _Orpheus_, to whome euen Tygers came,

And left their sauage Nature, if there long

they did with his sweet Melodie remaine.

Wolues lost their preyes, and by signes praid him sing

Beasts left the Lyon, and chose him their King.

_Cecropian_ Apes did on his musicke waite,

Yet of them all, not one could immitate.

Tis saide when _Orpheus_ dyed, he did descend

To the infernall, so the _Furies_ boast:

Where now they giue him leaue his eies to bend

without all feare, on her whome he once lost,

By a regardant looke, but tis not so:

_Ioue_ not reseru'd such musicke for belowe,

But placed him amongst celestiall stars,

To keep the Scorpion, Lyon, Beare from Iars.

For euer since the fall of _Phaeton_,

that then displaced, them they were at strife

For their degrees, till his alluring Tone.

who though in death hath the office of his life.

Though more diuinely: and where he attracts,

More glorious bodies to admire his actes.

Faire stranger shape of creature, and of beast,

With his concordant tunes, plac'd them in rest.

The Dittie was (and _Cupid_ lent an eare)

Vpon the death of his _Euridice_:

Which still he sung, as if his former feare,

Of loosing her was now, or else would be.

The Eccho beate the noyse vp to the Spheares,

And to his passionate song, Gods bent their eares.

It was a signe, he was new come from hell,

Their tunes so sad, he immitates so well.

Such passion it did strike vpon the earth,

that _Daphnes_ roote groan'd for _Apollo's_ wrong:

_Hermophrodite_ wept shewers and wisht his birth

had neuer bin, or that he more had clung

To _Salmacis_, and _Clitie_ grieued in vaine:

_Leueothoes_ wrong, the occasion of her baine,

my wilful eie (this should the burthen be)

Hath rob'd me of, twice slaine _Euridice_.

_Cicnus_ stil proud though he confuted be,

for _Phaetons_ losse, would needs afresh complaine

Thinking therewith to singe as sweet as he,

but pittiles he sung and dyed in vaine.

Eccho was pleas'd with voice resounding brim

as proud to loose her shape to answer him.

Hether resorted more then wel could heare,

but on my Muse, & speake what chansed there.

Amongst the rest of _Vesta_-vowed Girles,

came _Mirrha_ (whose thoughts no guile then knew)

Like a bright diamond circled with pearls,

whose radiant eye delt lustre to the hew

Of all the dames; whose face so farre aboue

though the rest (beautious all) vnwounded made loue, loue

for neuer since _Spiches_ was made a star

did he see nature excel art so far.

He ch[=a]g'd his shape, his wings he oft hath torne,

and like a hunter to this nimph he came:

With gold tipt _Iauelin_ and a bugle Horne,

such as they beare to make the Lyon tame:

First did he kisse hir hand, which then did melt

with loue's impression, _Cupid_ the like felt:

Stroke dumbe, he stood in an vnwonted guise,

such magicke beawtie carries in her eies.

At length (quoth he) should I not say I loue,

I should both _Cupid_ and his Mother wrong:

By thee faire Maid a power farre aboue,

My heart is the true index of my tongue.

And by my naked wordes you may discouer,

I am not traded like a common Louer.

Rare obiects, rare amazements bred, tis true:

And their effects are tryed in me by you.

My barren braine, can bless me with no store

Of able Epithits, so what praise I giue

Makes not you ritcher though it makes me poore

therefore in vaine against the streame I striue,

Th'ore curious painter, meaning to excell,

Oft marres the worke, the which before was well,

And he shall dazeled be, and tyred soone,

That leuelleth his shafts to hit the Moone.

With this, she turnd her blushing head aside,

& vail'd her face with lawne, not halfe so white

That euen the blending roses were espyed

despight the cloudes, that hid them in despight

She threw her thin breath through the lawne, and said

Leaue gentle youth, do not thus snare a maid

I came to _Orpheus_ Song, good then forbeare,

It is his tune, nor yours can charme mine eare.

Let _Orpheus_ learne (quoth he) of thee to sing,

Bid him charme men _Mirrha_ as thou canst doe:

Let him tame Man, that is the Lyons King,

And lay him prostrate at his feete belowe,

As thou canst doe: nor _Orpheus_ nor the spheares

Haue Tones like thee, to rauish mortall eares,

Yea, were this Thracian Harper Iudge to tell,

(As thee) hee'd sweare he sung not halfe so wel.

Nor dying Swans, nor Phebus when he loue's,

equals thy voice (though he in musicke courts)

and as the God whose voice the firm earth moues

making the terrors of the great, his sports,

Whose first word strooke into the _Chaos_ light;

so if that contrary thou take delight,

at thy word, darknes would or'e-cloude the ayre

and the fayrest day giue place to thee more faire.

_Fame_ hath resing'd her lasting Trump to thee,

as to the worthyer, then thy fame display:

Tell Venus thou art fairer farre then she,

For thine own worth becomes thee best to say,

Time will stand still ,the sunne in motion stay,

Sirens be mute to heare thee speake of _Mirrha_,

Thy voice, if heard in the low shades should be

Would a third time fetch back _Euridice_.

Giue eare eternall wonder to a swaine,

Twas writ in starres that I should see that face;

And seeing loue, and in that loue be slaine,

if beautie pittie not my wretched case.

Fortune and loue, the starres and powers diuine,

Haue all betraide me to those eyes of thine.

O proue not then more crueller th[=e] they,

Loues shaftes & fates wheeles, who hath power to stay.

Stay there (quoth she) giue backe those powers their owne

or not impose their powerful force on me:

Haue I the least word or the least glance thrown

To make you attribute what's destinie

Vnto my beautie: if loue and fate you wound,

Throw vowes to th[=e], their altars are soone found.

Wouldst thou haue me pittie before they doe?

Loue's blinde, and fortun's deafe, so am I too.

I know not loue, sure tis a subtle thing,

I, by these blushes that thy charmes haue raisd,

T'allay more quiet' tell loues little king,

I serue a Mistres he himselfe hath praisd

Though he enuy, a rare and sacred floure,

Whom he had will to wrong, but never power.

Now _Cupid_ hangs the head, and melts in shame,

for she did vtter _Vestas_ holy name.

And as you see a woman teeming young,

bearing the growing burthen of her wounb:

Missing the dainty she hath lookt for long,

falls straight in pastionate sicknes pale & dumb

(for seeing she hath lost it) will not tell,

for what she in this forced pastion fell.

So when his hopes were lost, he would not say,

what was the cause, but this to her did laye.

Virgin beware that fire within thy brest,

to _Vesta_ dedicate do not expire:

as she must warie be that is the best

to keepe it, it is knowne no lasting fier.

The fuell cold fruitelesse Virginitie,

which if zeale blow not violent, wil so one die:

This stricts a virgins life, and who but knowes,

that loue and chastitie, were euer foes.

And if ere loue assaile those virgins forts,

those Iuory bulwarkes that defend your heart:

Though he be king of sportes he neuer sports,

when as he wounds, but playes the Tirants part

And so much more he wil tri[=u]ph oure thee,

by how much thou contents his deitie:

I know you to be chaste, but yet faire Mayd,

if ere you loue youle finde what I haue sayd.

Sir (quoth she) when I loue you shall be mine:

but know the time, when you shall claime me your's

When as the fire extinct as _Vestaes_ shrine:

and _Venus_ leaues to haunt the _Papheon_ bowres,

When men are perfect friendes Tigers at peace,

Discord in heauen, and powers diuine doe cease,

when Fortune sleeps & the north star doth moue

wh[=e] Turtles leaue to mourne their mates, ile loue.

Ere this was ended, _Orpheus_ song was done,

And all the Virgins fell into their rankes,

Each tooke their leaue of him, so did the sunne,

who now was poasting to the westerne banckes

and the wild beasts, who he had made more tame,

seem'd to depart with reuerence at his name.

Each one gaue place to _Mirrha_ as their duetie,

She being preferr'd in state, first as in beautie.

Now Cupid of her his last leaue doth take,

so haue I seene a soule and body part:

He begs a chaste kisse for her mothers sake,

and vowes she shall be soueraigne of his heart.

But whether he disembling did it, or twa's fate,

(As extream'st loue, turnes to the direst hate)

Being repulst, but this kisse did inspire,

her brest with an infernall and vnnam'd desire.

Night like a masque was entred heauens greate hall

with thousand torches vshering the way:

The complements of parting were done all,

& homewards _Orpheus_ chaunteth many a lay;

_Venus_ had sent her coach, drawn by a Doue,

For little _Cupid_ the great God of loue.

& this hath sprung (as men haue sayen of yore)

For _Mirrhas_ sake he vow'd to loue no more.

Blacke as my inck now must my verse commence

You blushing girles, and parents siluer-gray:

As farre as Trace from vs, so farre from hence

goe, that you may not heare me say,

A daughter did with an adulterous head,

And heauie lust, presse downe her fathers bed,

such Songs as these more fit the Tartars cares,

had Orpheus sung it, beasts had pour'd out teares.

Vnhallowed lust, for loues lies drownd in poison

in what blacke ornament shall I attire thee?

Since I must write of thy so sad confusion,

shall I say _Cupid_ with his brand did fire thee?

Accuse the Fates, or thee shall I accuse?

_Mirrha_ weepes yet, onely say this my Muse:

wise destinie, true loue and mortall thought,

would nere confirme this, the furies brought this.

She loues her Father, Daughter nere lou'd so,

for as her mother lou'd so lou'd she him:

Thirsting in fire those softer sweetes to know,

Amidst whose waues, _Uenus_ in pride doth swim

So young she was, yet that her father kist her.

Which she so duely lookes for he nere mist her,

Yet could he haue conceiu'd as he did after

those kisses rellish much vnlike a daughter.

Giue to her golde of Ophire Indian shels,

Cloath her with Tirian purple skin of beast:

Perfurme her waies with choice Arabian smells,

Present her with the Phoenix in her nest,

Delight her eare with song of poets rare,

All these with _Cyneas_ might naught compare,

"The comfort of the minde being tane away,

"_Nectar_ not pleaseth, nor _Ambrosia_.

The feast of _Bacchus_ at this present time,

Was by the giddie _Menades_ intended

There _Mirrha_ daunc'd, and _Orpheus_ sung in rime

crownd with green thirses, now yet y[=u]hes ended

with praise to _Bacchus_ all depart with spright,

vnto their feastes, feasts that deuoure the night,

for loe, the stars, in trauaile in the skie,

brought forth their brightnes to each waking eye.

High midnight came, and she to bedward hies,

pretending rest, to beguile natures rest:

Anon the gloomy gallerie she spies,

toward her chamber, and she first that blest,

Her care-fild eyes, her fathers picture was

Arm'd but the face, although it dumbe, alasse,

she ask'd and if he call'd, seeing no reply,

she answer'd for her father, and said I.

Daughter (quoth she) why art thou thus alone?

Let Doues so mourn girle, yt hath lost their mates

Thine is to come, then prethee cease thy mone,

Care shold not dwel with great & high estates.

Let her that needs and is not faire at all,

Repine at fortune, loue shall be thy thrall,

wing'd as he is, and armed thou shalt see,

(I haue the power to giue) & giue him thee.

Father (quoth she) and spoke with smaller voice,

Nature hath made me yours, yours I must be:

You choose my choice, for in you lies my choice,

Hereat shee starts as what not feares the guiltie:

Thinking the shadowe knew her double sence,

and blushing, in strange feare departeth thence

blaming her selfe, for vttering her blacke fault

to him who armed stood gainst her assault.

Anon she spies many a youthfull Lord,

In seuerall Tables, each in seuerall guise;

Whose pictures they had sent with one accord,

To shew their manly features to her eyes,

Whose dumb'd perswasiue images were plac'd,

To see if any in her lookes were grac'd:

But heere in vaine, their faire assayes doe proue

for had they spake they could not win her loue.

Ouer her Mothers shape a vaile she drew,

and weeping, saide: may I nere see thee more:

Poore abus'd image, doost not turne thy hew,

to see so foule an obiect thee before?

Didst thou but know, what's sprung from out thy wombe,

thy shap cold speak, whilst yt thy self stodst d[=u]be.

Art would claime Nature in thy heauie woes,

thy shape haue limbs, thy limbs be stiff as those.

Anon she leapt on it with ardent heate,

and full of teares, yet falles vppon her backe:

Wishing euen in that griefe the lustfull feate,

Were now perform'd (woemen oft longings lack

down sunck the down, and with so deep impresse

that had Hermaphroditus bin there he might ges

Salmacis were aganie his prostitute,

or one more farte, then to denie her suite.

A strange conceite, had now possest hir braine,

nie equall to her lust, thought innocent:

She gaue vp to desire and leapes amaine,

From the bruisd bed, with bloodie fram'd int[=e]t

To hang her selfe O, me moste wofull theame.

She now espide an hie and sturdie beame:

Many staue liu'd to an vnpittied death,

who might haue dyed sometimes with famed breath.

Yet doth she thinke what terror death would be

and on her heart, imprints his Character:

Faine would she die, yet first would pleased be

with damned lust, which death could not deter

O sinne (saies she) thou must be Natures slaue,

In spight of Fate, goe to a pleasing graue.

When I haue sin'd, send _Ioue_ a thunder stroake

and spare thy chosen tree, the harmlesse Oake.

She thinkes againe, and sees nor time nor place,

to quench the thirstines of her parched blood:

Time still ranne on, with an auerted face,

and nothing but her passions did her good.

This thought confoundes her, and she is resoul'd

In deathes bleake azure armes to be inuoul'd.

Fates, you are women, saue your modesties:

sheele kill her selfe, you neede but close her eies.

And like as when some suddaine extasie,

seisth the nature of a sicklie man,

When hee's discernd to swoune, straite by and by

folke by his helpe confusedly haue ran,

And seeking with their art to fetch him backe:

so many throng, that he the ayre doth lacke,

so _Mirrha's_ thoughts confusedly did stound her.

some adding c[=o]fort, whilst the rest confound her.

Like to a fountaines head, so shew'd her head,

from whence since passion first tooke hold of hir

Two springs did run thorow each flowr-fil'd mead

& at her lips staid, where shee wisht _Cynir_

Would so haue done: her face with teares run ore,

Like _Hebaes_ Nectar shew'd, spilt on heauens flore.

or as the blomes in May the dewe drops beares,

so _Mirrha's_ cheeks look'd sprinkl'd with her tears.

Her haire, that with such diligence was vsde

To be kemb'd vp & did like clowdes appeare;

Where many spangles, star-like were infus'd,

To attend the lustre of so bright a haire,

Whose beames like bright _Arachnes_ web c[=o]posed

Taught _Pallas_ a new enuie, now vnlosed,

hiding her face, yet making it seeme rarer,

as blazing Commets traine makes the star fairer.

Dispaire that teacheth holy ones to die,

when as affliction ministers her part:

Had breathing now in Mirrha, and well nie,

Like Venus, made her graspe a flaming heart.

Cupid was borne at Etna, a hot sprite,

Whose violence takes edge off from delight.

For men deepe louing, oft themselues so waste,

that proffer'd dainties, they want power to taste.

Digresse no farther least thou proue obsceane,

but tell by this how Nurse had broke the dore,

And trembling both through age and feare,

Forgot the naturall sence she had before

Yet with her out-cries from the shades of death,

cald Mirrhas spright, who with vnwilling breath

re-enters flesh, scorning to giue it grace,

with wonted beautie that adorn'd her face.

She tooke the haltar, and held vp her chin,

chafing her temples with a violent heate:

Making her soule returne with torments in,

as it went out, being come vnto retrait,

Nurse heau'd her trembling body on the bed,

Where sinking as in graue, she seemed dead:

Chast had my verse bin, blessed Mirrhas hap,

if here my pen could write thy Epitaph.

When hauing gotten ope her heauie eyes,

life-mocking death, with a fresh crimson hew,

she thus bespake: if there be sorceries,

Philters, inchauntments, any furie new

That can inspire with irrelegious fire,

The brest of mortall, that vntam'd desire

Possesseth me, and all my bodies merrit,

Shewes like a faire house, haunted with a spirit.

The foure and twentie windes are not so fierce,

as what doth blow the fewel in my breast:

Not the soft oyle, _Apollo_ did disperse,

on _Phaitons_ brow, to keep his sun-beam'd crest

From face of heauenly fires, could ought preuaile

Gainst raging br[=a]ds which my poore heart assaile

scorch'd with materiall flames, wee soone do die

and to purge sins, we imbrace purgatorie.

But this a heate that nor in life or death,

can render any humor but dispaire:

Nor can it with the short cut of my breath,

Take hence my shame, that shall suruiue mine heire

Nor can the act (after tis done) content

But brings with it eternall punishment,

lesseneth the pleasure of the world to come,

giues the iudge leaue, & strikes the guiltie dumb.

The iealious nurse, did apprehend her straite,

yet would extract the quintessence of all:

And therefore childe (quoth she) vse no deceipt,

but tel me freely whence these teares doe fall

I am thy nurse, and from my aged brest

Thou hadst thy second being, tell the rest.

I doe coniure thee, by these siluer haires,

which are grown white, the sooner in their cares.

If any orped witch of _Thessalie_,

haue powre vpon thee, gentle-girle relate:

Or if thou haue prophan'd some dietie,

wee shall some misticke fires propogate.

To attone with them or if with barbarous hand

devoy'd of thy first chastitie thou stand;

Vnfold to me; griefes vttered finde redresse:

fires vndescern'd burn the more pittilesse.

Or if the sunne of bewtie shoote at thee

his fiery shafts, O tell me and the rather,

Because thy confidence shal answer'd be,

With this my childe Ile hide it from thy father

As doth a dying man hold fast what so he grasps

so she her feruent armes bout her Nurse claspes

and nuzzels once more twixt those dugs her face

whilst ore those Ilands flow salt teares apace.

That word of father was like _Persey's_ shield,

to make the poore maid stone, now nurse doth threat

Vnlesse she will in gentle manner yeeld,

she would to morrow shew how in a heat

She would haue made away her desperate life,

and she must tell the man that forc'd that strife

within her brest through feare she thus did frame

and made her toung the trumpet of her shame.

Her voyce halfe stopt with sighes (O fatal voice)

pronounc'd these words, yet did the acc[=e]ts faile:

How blessed is my mother in her choise,

How fully she with nature did preuaile.

This said, her blushing face sinkes in her shroud

like _Cinthia_ muffel'd in an enuious cloud.

When loe, the dying taper in his toombe,

gaue darknes to it selfe and to the roome.

Now had she time to waile, and well she might,

Guiltie of sorrow, there might you haue seene:

As glow wormes adde a tincture to the night,

Glimmering in pallid fire, vppon some greene,

mixt with the dew, so did her eyes appeare,

Each goulden glance ioyn'd with a dewy teare,

oft shut her eyes, like starres that portend ill,

with bloody deluge, they their orbes did fill.

The Nurse amated with the latter wordes,

whose aged haires stood vp like siluer wire:

Knew speech was vaine, where will the scope affords

& whispering softly, saies childe thy desire

Ile put into thy armes, sleepe, seize thy head,

Tis now nights no one, all but the stars seem dead,

Our vanities like fire-works will ascend,

Vntil they breake, vncertaine where to end.

Neuer did mortall with a vicious thought,

wish to bring vices Embrion to aforme:

But still the prince of darknesse to them brought

occasions fore-locke, which they off have torne.

Sin like a Cedar shadowes all our good:

Whilst vertues bounded like a narrow flood.

As see now, how the occasion of misfortune;

Mirrha's much abus'd-mother did importune.

Now came the time, of _Ceres_ sacred rite,

and Misteries, when all wives young and olde

Cloathed in vailes, all of transparent white,

Kneele to her, and to the Attick priest vnfolde,

The firstlings of the fiel'd wreath'd gilded corne,

Chaplets of dill, pluckt in a blushing morne,

And many such, nor may they husbands see,

In nine daies, till they end their misterie.

Now nurse was double diligent, watching her time

and told old _Cynitas_ a louely maide

Sigh'd for him: and still with cupps of wine

betwixt each word his pallat she assaide.

Heated with wines, he bad the Nurse repaide,

and bring to him the Maide that was so faire,

_Bacchus_ & _Venus_, Wine and frolicke lust,

are sworne to blood, and keepe togither must.

_Mirrha_ no sooner heard this glad reply,

but as a poore bird long time in a snare,

Ready for fammine and her woe to die,

whom an vnskilful fouler vnaware

hath guiuen freedome, to her foode doth hast,

so Mirrha thought each houre an age was past:

In her strict torments but being scapt away,

her woes forgot, she thinkes vppon her prey.

And as she did ascend those staires to lust,

in the midway, she heard her father speake:

And nere lay partridge closer to the dust,

at sound o' the Faulccons bell, then she too weak

To encounter or resist: and feares are such,

in loue by loue, that they enccrease loue much.

Loue like to Monarkes, hath his state hie reared

who euer wil be lou'd, where they are feared.

To a hundred seueral passions she doth yeeld,

and as we see in Autumne of the yere

Some gallant oake stand ready to be feld,

vppon whose ribs a hundred wounds appeare

Forc'd by the brawnie armes of Hynds vnlithe,

who workes a passage to the weeping pith:

Vncertaine (though wind shaken) where to fall:

so stood her mynd doutful of rest at al.

Nurse opes the doore, and brings her to the bed

the darkenesse of the night abated shame:

And leaues her that must leaue her maiden head

to the begetter of his owne defame,

With faultring hams hauing got twixt the sheetes,

In fearefull lust this _Prodegiae_ meetes,

He begs a kisse, then blusht she as he spake it,

yet he must giue it, shee wants power to take it.

Now trembling lay she by her fathers side,

like filly doue within the Eagles gripe:

Nor doth she vse soft shrikes as doth a bride,

(I meane a maide) when as the fruite so ripe

Of maiden-head, forced from their wombe,

Her fathers armes to her was as a tombe.

She dead in pleasure, durst not shew her voice,

least _Cyniras_ should know this faire foule choice.

But when that Cupid once had whetted her,

she twines her lilly stalks about his necke:

So clings young _Ivie_ bout the aged oake there,

_Venus_ smile, but frowning _Iuno_ checks.

Their stolne delight, no nuptiall tapers shone,

No Virgin belt vntyed, but all vndone,

the Athenian God, kindled no hallowed fires,

darke was the night, suiting to their desires.

The morrow came, toyled with wakes and lust,

she leaues her father, when as the rising Sun

Couering the easterne Pines and mountaine dust,

spyed Mirrha from her couch of sin to runne.

Then blusht he first, and backward would ha fled

And euer since in's rising hee's still red,

Nere Turkas was at sicke blood more estrang'd,

then Mirrha when her chastitie was chang'd.

Oft would she leane against her fathers knees,

& tie his garter in a true loue's knot:

And then vndoo't againe, as to shew she

were vndone, yet he conceiu'd it not.

And woman like that, keep not secrets long,

she shewd her loue in d[=u]b shewes with out tung,

her lust she knew (yet hardly it concealde)

like Fayries Treasur's vanish'd if reueal'd.

A third night came, darker then shores belowe,

when Cyniras (father of feareful lust)

Willing to see the foule that did bestowe

So many pleasures on him (Ioue is iust)

Did reach a taper, whose confusiue light,

Strucke like a blasting at that horrid sight.

The light fell from him loathing his defame,

things senceles oft are mou'd, wh[=e] men not shame.

At length with bloodie eye fixed on her,

out of an Iuorie scabberd hanging by:

He drew a monumental Semiter,

thinking with death that both their shames shold dye

But night that oft befriended her with sinne,

In her blacke wombe too, did her freedome win,

For through the darke she slipt, and left her fire,

to mourne his Fate, not execute his ire.

Sped with her lust, and flying thence apace,

in feares and trembling, feare doth giue vs eies:

For saftie to the Gods, she lifts her face,

& her claspt hands to what she now not see's,

loues browe was darke, Boetes had amaine

Driuen his Oxen to the lower plaine.

Phebae fled heauen, her face no tincture beares,

Because shee saw a deed, worthie her teares.

The morning came, where yet the fatall print

of Mirrha lay vpon the pillow: _Cynix_ he

Clog'd with distresse, a fathers cursse did hint,

vpon that place of foule inchastitie,

the sight of what we loath, breedes loathing more

and vertue once renounc'd ingenders store,

Leaue we him touz'd in care, for worldly wee,

loue to leaue great men in their miserie.

Seauen winters nights, she fled before the Moone

(who knew the vnchaste act she had inforc'd)

Through _Arabie_, in feare she posteth soone,

To odorous Panchaia, whose confines diuorc'd

Her fathers land: here grew all choicest fumes:

That to Ioues temples often men presumes:

and on his altars them accumulate,

and how they first sprung, here thereof the Fate.

_Hebae_ now banish'd from th' _Aetherian_ boule

vppon a feast day mongst the Gods aboue,

Where twas made lawfull, all without controule,

might freely drink it chanc'd the Queen of loue

Whether she long'd, or enuied _Hebes_ starre,

(Women are enuious, where they long for nectar)

forc'd her to skinke so much, the iuice ran ore,

so that Ioues drinke washt the defiled flore.

With this he storm'd, that's Priests from altars flie

streight banish'd _Hebae_, & the world did thinke

To a second Chaos they should turned be,

the clouds for feare wept out th' immortal drinke

and on _Panchaia_ there this Nectar fell,

Made rich th' adiacent lands with odorous smell,

and such rare spices to the shoares are giuen,

as Ioue would thinke no Nectar were in heauen.

There was a Satire rough and barbarous,

pleasing his pallat at a trembling spring:

Vnder a Beech with bowes frondiferous,

though he had seene a nimph or rarer thing

Then flesh and blood, for in the calmed streame,

He saw her eyes like stars, whose raies did gleame

Boue Phoebus farre, and so amazed stood,

as if she had bin Goddesse of that flood.

And as you see a man that hath bin long

Possessed with a furie of the shades:

after some prayers and many a sacred song,

with blessed signes, the euill spirit vades,

so fell his rudenesse from him, and her shine,

Made all his earthie parts pure and diuine.

O potent loue, great is thy power be falne,

That makes the wife mad, & the mad man calme.

Thus he begins, fairer then Venus farre,

If Venus be, or if she be tis thee:

Louelie as Lillies, brighter then the starre

that is to earth the mornings Mercurie:

Softer then Roses, sweeter breath'd then they,

blush't boue _A_urora, better cloath'd then May.

lipt like a cherrie, but of rarer taste,

Deuine as Dian, and as fully chaste.

Pardon my rude tongue, if I chance to erre,

as Hermes selfe might erre being the God

of Eloquence: for your bright eye doth beare

all earthly blessings in a faire abode,

Excuse me if I trip, I meane your weale,

Error's no error, where tis done with zeale.

Loue like materiall fires is made to flame:

When tis supprest with fanning Fires first came.

With this, the Maid (so took) hung down her head

wondring that such a shape had such a tongue:

able to steale her loue, had she not fled,

and from his ardent gripes, her body wrung.

Flying like _Phebae_ after strucken deere:

and as he follow'd she fled more for feare.

_Zephire_ came foorth, to dally with her haire,

while the poore Satire cried stay maide so faire.

But he on sudden like a subtill Snake,

rould in a heape, shootes foorth himself at l[=e]gth;

and to his vigorous armes greedie doth take,

his yeilding prey, won with his words not str[=e]gth

To be a woman, is by nature giuen,

But to be constant, is a star, which heauen

Hath seald on their sex forehead as a signe,

That constancie in women is diuine.

Thou didst deceiue me Mirrha, when I saide,

thou flew'st for feare, thou gau'st me cause to fear

and I might iustlie haue this gainst thee laide,

thou wentst t' auide by pathes that were so nere

Who begin, ill most often end in ill,

and she that doth her first pure youth so spill

In lawles lust, though made a wife to one,

Remaines like wax for each impression.

But see the goodnesse of the Deities,

who still with grace preuents our ill presage,

This groue was hallow'd to no Hiadres,

but chast Diana, who with violent rage

Discending from her towre of Christalline,

To keepe the place still sacred and diuine:

against her rites, brought with her thereupon

white Poplar from the banckes of _Acheron_:

Then with a charme, that did her face eclips,

And made her crescent quak, the iuice she powers

Vpon the Satirs face, and prophane lipps,

which quickly ouer all his body showers,

Her borrow'd power of art being finished:

(Deriued from Phoebus as her light) she saide,

Nine-times the holy rime, which spok will clere,

all prophane matter, and this spake she there.

Sleepe Poplar sleepe, that was the Satirs name,

who had bin long a king within these woods,

Since thou my sacred Groue, gan to prophane:

a sleepe seize on thee, still as stigian floods,

by Stix I vow the partiall destenies,

Did they conspire, shold nere vnclaspe thin eies,

hauing thus said, the Satire vanisht so,

as mens prospect that from a mirrour goe.

I thinke (quoth she) accursed is this place,

for heere the man, for whome I sorrow now,

Heedelesse Acteon with immodest face,

saw all our naked and did ouer-vewe:

As men rich iuells doe, thinking there lies

yet some rare vertue hidden from their eyes:

And euen there quoth shee, & then did point,

reuen'gd, I saw his hounds teare ioint from ioint.

But since saies she, thou as a King didst reigne,

and art a Trophey too of _Dians_ power:

Thus much the Goddesse of the floods doth deign

to change thy shape, into a vertick flower.

Then thrice three words, thrice striking charmed wood

The ground did crannie, and there out of hand,

appeared greene Poplar, younger then before,

which bow'd the head & dyan did adore.

The palefac'd Mirrha sat like guiltie spright,

fore the infernall iudge, yet did not see

Diana great, for dull are mortalls sight,

(and all inuisible is chastitie)

But heard a voice as she was vanishing,

saying defild maide, doost wonder at this thing?

O Mirrha ere my crescents beautie change,

thou shalt be turn'd into a shape as strange.

With this the verdant new sprung Poplar plant

(moou'd with the winde) seemd to bow down the head

as cheering Mirrha, who did comfort want

being amaz'd at what Diana saide,

Hauing recouer'd sence, she flies the place,

For feare of Phebaes comming to the chace:

to Saba land she hies, where all affraide,

my muse shall sing the downfall of the Maide.

Then first hung downe Poplar his heauie braine,

for Mirrha's losse, whose loue brought him that

and for he once in woods a King did raigne,

a crowne hee still wear's, richly wrought with blew

and yellow eke, as figures both of loue,

Which Venus dropt downe him from aboue.

Bacchus doth loue him, for in feasts of wine,

he weares a poplar Garland mixt with vine.

The leaden God of sleepe, on his iuice feede,

the vertues of him, sundry doe declare:

His suddain taste a heauinesse doth breede,

and drownes in rest, sences opprest with care,

In places farre remote, he loues to growe,

and eke by rivers that runne thicke and slowe,

where drowsilie this woodish demie God,

with euerie gale of winde his head doth nod.

Now to proceede after a small repose,

that the accursed seede gan swell her wombe,

wh[=e] her drie brain, no more teares could expose

she weayting for a sad and heauie dombe.

For often men offending, still doe feare,

Though Ioue be farre off, yet his iudgements nere

downe would she sit, and so vnfolde her moane

that Eccho sight hirs and forgot her owne.

Distressed twixt the teadiousnesse of life,

and trembling feare of death, she thus began:

For when we cease to be the crimes are rife,

which youth committed, and before vs then.

For aged memorie doth clasp't containe,

Those shapes of sin, which hot blood held as vain.

O cursed Fates quoth she, that brought to passe

this prodegie twixt me and Cyniras.

O leaue to leape for ioy, thou prettie childe,

to Heare of Cyniras, or ile leaue rather:

To speake of him, whose bed I haue defilde,

& made him proue thy Grandsire & thy Father

Was I predestin'd to select no other,

But fated for the sister and the Mother,

of thee my babe, heauen here hath beene sinister

the childe shall call his grandsire, son his mother sister.

Oft doe two Roses grow out from one stem,

and one of them is full blowne fore the other,

So fares it now with thee my virgin iem,

whome nature would call sonne but shame saies brother

Shall I not blush when thou art ripe, to gather

The circumstances of who was thy Father,

yes sure I shall, yet shame forgets all shame,

Ile charge thy father of a heauenly name.

But oh, I feare me least some Prodegie,

the heauens agree, that I to light should bring;

to fright ee'n the yron age, that chastitie

might take example by my suffering.

That I a monster-mother should be made,

If soe, O ouer equall Gods, let _Mirrha_ fade

into some shape, worthy your high deuice,

Pitty to me, would make Ioue seeme vnwise.

Alter O Gods, death that is due to birth,

nor let the dead repine, that I should see

Eliziums blest shades, nor the men of earth

annoided be with my impuritie,

Let them enioy the fieldes, and learned Songes,

Of hye brow'd Orpheus, let the vnflesht thronges

that haue deseru'd this, and much more be glad,

my starres, my double life, and fate, are sad.

You wearyed race of Danans vnblest girles,

In vaine leaue off your vnwomb'd tubs to fill,

& with your teares that staynd ye Indyan pearles,

Weepe out for Mirrha, and ere night you will

at my sad story orebrim with your teares,

Your whirle-poole vessells, which so many yeres

return'd no interest, if you well deplore,

you'le drowne in teares, or labour so no more.

C[=o]clude my fate, quicke you eternall counsell,

or else I feare the nere-erturned dead

Clad in the fearefull shapes of night and hell,

will rife before the general day be spred;

and hurrie me in flesh to Acheron,

To taste hels torture both in soule and bone:

Then blast me thunderer in righteous ire,

and I like _Semele_ wil meete thy fire.

The Gods to her last wish was tractable.

her tongue percullist twice was as she spake:

aire was her voice, and Mirrha now not able,

to thanke the Gods, her ioynts in sunder brake.

Leaues were her locks, of golden haire bereau'd,

her armes long boughes, deem & be not deceiu'd

tree gan she be, yet twixt her thing so staid,

you could not say she was or tree or maide.

First grew her hayre vp like the Summer Corne,

or as a blazing starre whose streames rise vpward

& being changd, fell leaues, that vp were borne,

by the rude windes, yet had you but haue heard

You'd sware, a sigh for Mirrha's transmigration

Had beene decreed by all the windie nation.

and euerie Autume, since a thing moste rare,

The falling leaues, resemble Mirrha's haire.

To barke her yuorie skin polisht congeald,

each blew rig'd current into melting sap,

Her nailes to bolssome faire, & what reueal'd

with accents sad, the babe yet in her lap.

Her fingers twigs, her bright eyes turn'd to gum,

Buried on earth, and her owne selfe the toombe,

her sences gone, yet this sence did she win,

to aye relent, the horror of her sinne.

For euen as from a guilty man, that's pleading for remorse,

teares follow teares, as hoping to preuaile,

So from this tree, (though now a senceleffe course)

flowe pretious teares, as seemes she doth bewaile

In death, with euer liuing teares, the act fore-done

These _Pius_ drops, made densiue by the sunne,

are kept for holy vses, and the Mir,

That so distilles, doth beare the name of her.

The misbegotten babie, swels the tree,

and loathing the defiled wombe sought vent:

Those panges that mothers haue felt shee,

and solemne sighes had issue, as they'd rent,

and spoile the shape, she newly had assum'd,

But wordes within the close bark were inhumbd

Yet wept it out, as it to water would,

Or seem'd it mockt Pactolus waues of golde.

Till chast Lucina, whome the Poets giue,

The mid-wiues power in producing creatures,

by whose change we last die, and first doe liue,

(be they not violent each) she that giues features

Forme or takes away, makes foule or faire,

Discending from her Spheare next to our ayre:

with armes yspred, vppon the melting mir,

brought diuine comfort downe from heau[=e] with her

Few wordes she spake, but euery sillable,

of power to comfort the afflicted Ghostes;

Or any other sencelesse thing make able,

doe better deedes then those _Alcides_ boastes,

the tree streight craynes, & springs forth the child

who the first minut, though his countenance smild

cryed out a maine, our first propheticke breath,

showes our first houre, is mother to our death.

The water Nymphes then caught him tenderly,

who laid him streight on the enameled bankes,

and bath'd him with his mothers teares, whereby

they made him fairer, and in merry prankes

The Ladies call a conuocation there,

Some praise his nose, his lips, his eye, his eare.

Some his streight fingers, whilst a fist doth sweare

his verry breath yet smelleth of the mirre.

Another wishes, oh for such a face!

Nor can I blame her though she did wish so:

For sure, were I a wench, t'had bin my case,

for nature heere, made both her ioy and woe,

And spight that (but herself) commendeth none,

Of force must say, this was a rarer one

Then either nature did, or ere shall make,

whose life holdes vp her age, whose deathe's her wrack.

Eyes like two stars falne from their proper sphears

as if they scorn'd the beaten pathes of heauen:

Or enuying of beautie of the beares,

showne firmer heere, and brighter then the seau[=e]

Such was he as was Cupid wont to be

In pictures lim'd, and that they may agree,

furnish the babe with winges and quiuer light,

or from loues God, take wings, and quier quite.

Nought may compare with Time in his swift race

the babe ere while feeles now youths hot alarms

And as in yeares, so beautious grew his face,

that he is fit againe for Ladies armes:

Nor Cupid now could wound more dames th[=e] he

That Venus who Captiues all, is not free

From her own power, she loue's Adonis milde,

That Mars doth storm, & wish he were no childe.

Nor Paphos, Amathus nor fishie Gnide,

delights she now to haunt, nor Etna now

Burnes more then her, she roans the wood so wide

after her game, that to his game doth bow.

And will not heare or see, for eies and eares,

If they her heare or see, their vse forbeares

Yet she persues, and leaues her power vn euen

on heauen & earth, she loues him more th[=e] heau[=e].

Oft would she say, and bathe those words in tears

oh thou fair boy, wold God thou loudst like me

but sure thou art not flesh, it well appeares,

thou wert the stubborne issue of a tree,

So hard thou art, then she a sigh would fet,

and wish that Vulcan had not made his net,

For boysterous Mars, shee'd fayner ha' bin sped

with this choice floure, claspt in her yron bed.

Shee'd nere haue blusht, th[=e] she does make a vow

though al the Gods of both worlds had th[=e] seen

She raveth that she euer lou'd til now,

that she might worthily ha bin loues Queene.

wel, wel (quoth she) thou hast reueng'd the spight

which from my accurst Sons bow did fowly light

On thy faire Mother, O immortall boy,

Though thou be faire, tis I that should be coy.

But stay my Muse in thine owne confines keepe,

& wage not warre with so deere lou'd a neighbor,

But hauing sung thy day song, rest & sleepe

preserue thy small fame and his greater fauor:

His song was worthie merrit (_Shakspeare_ hee)

sung the faire blossome, thou the withered tree

_Laurell_ is due to him, his art and wit

hath purchast it, _Cypres_ thy brow will fit.