Anon came night: and sleepe upon my carefull carcasse crope.Me thought I saw the selfesame Oke with all his boughes and twigs,And all the Pismeres creeping still upon his tawnts and sprigs,Which trembling with a sodaine brayd these Harvest folke off threw And shed them on the ground about, who on the sodaine grewIn bignesse more and more, and from the earth themselves did lift:And stoode upright against the tree: and therewithall did shiftTheir maygernesse, and coleblacke hue, and number of their feete:And clad their limmes with shape of man. Away my sleepe did fleete. And when I wooke, misliking of my dreame I made my moneThat in the Gods I did perceive but slender helpe or none.But straight much trampling up and downe and shuffling did I heare,And (which to me that present time did verie straunge appeare)Of people talking in my house me thought I heard the reare. Now while I musing on the same supposde it to have beenSome fancie of the foolish dreame which lately I had seen,Behold, in comes me Telamon in hast, and thrusting opeMy Chamber doore, said: Sir, a sight of things surmounting hopeAnd credit shall you have: come forth. Forth came I by and by And even such men for all the world there standing did I spieAs in my sleepe I dreamed of, and knew them for the same.They comming to me greeted me, their sovereigne Lord, by name.And I (my vowes to Jove performde) my Citie did devideAmong my new inhabiters: and gave them land beside Which by decease of such as were late owners of the sameLay wast. And in remembrance of the race whereof they came,The name of Emets I them gave. Their persons you have seen:Their disposition is the same that erst in them hath been.They are a sparing kinde of folke, on labor wholy set, A gatherer, and a hoorder up of such as they doe get.These fellowes being like in yeares and courage of the minde,Shall go a warfare ny as soone as that the Easterne windeWhich brought you hither luckely, (the Easterne winde was itThat brought them thither) turning, to the Southerne coast doe flit.

With this and other such like talke they brought the day to ende.The Even in feasting, and the night in sleeping they did spende.The Sunne next Morrow in the heaven with golden beames did burne,And still the Easterne winde did blow and hold them from returne.Sir Pallas sonnes to Cephal came (for he their elder was) And he and they to Aeacus Court togither forth did passe.The King as yet was fast asleepe. Duke Phocus at the gateDid meete them, and receyved them according to their state.For Telamon and Peleus alreadie forth were gone,To muster Souldiers for the warres. So Phocus all alone Did leade them to an inner roume, where goodly Parlours were,And caused them to sit them downe. As he was also thereNow sitting with them, he beheld a Dart in Cephals handWith golden head, the stele whereof he well might understandWas of some straunge and unknowne tree. When certain talke had past A while of other matters there, I am (quoth he) at lastA man that hath delight in woods and loves to follow gameAnd yet I am not able sure by any meanes to ameWhat wood your Javeling stele is of. Of Ash it can not bee.For then the colour should be browne. And if of Cornell tree, It would be full of knubbed knots. I know not what it is:But sure mine eies did never see a fairer Dart than this.The one of those same brethren twaine replying to him said:Nay then the speciall propertie will make you more dismaid,Than doth the beautie of this Dart. It hitteth whatsoever He throwes it at. The stroke thereof by Chaunce is ruled never.For having done his feate, it flies all bloudie backe agenWithout the helpe of any hand. The Prince was earnest thenTo know the truth of all: as whence so riche a present came,Who gave it him, and whereupon the partie gave the same. Duke Cephal answerde his demaund in all points (one except)The which (as knowne apparantly) for shame he overlept:His beautie namely, for the which he did receive the Dart.And for the losse of his deare wife right pensive at the hart,He thus began with weeping eies: This Dart, O Goddesse sonne, (Ye ill would thinke it) makes me yirne, and long shall make me donne,If long the Gods doe give me life. This weapon hath undonneMy deare beloved wife and me. O would to God this sameHad never unto me bene given. There was a noble DameThat Procris hight (but you perchaunce have oftner heard the name Of great Orythia whose renowne was bruited so by fame,That blustring Boreas ravisht hir.) To this Orythia sheeWas sister. If a bodie should compare in ech degreeThe face and natures of them both, he could none other deemeBut Procris worthier of the twaine of ravishment should seeme. Hir father and our mutuall love did make us man and wife.Men said I had (and so I had in deede) a happie life.Howbeit Gods will was otherwise, for had it pleased himOf all this while, and even still yet in pleasure should I swim.The second Month that she and I by band of lawfull bed Had joynde togither bene, as I my masking Toyles did spred,To overthrow the horned Stags, the early Morning grayThen newly having chased night and gun to breake the day,From Mount Hymettus highest tops that freshly flourish ay,Espide me, and against my will conveyde me quight away. I trust the Goddesse will not be offended that I sayThe troth of hir. Although it would delight one to beholdeHir ruddie cheekes: although of day and night the bounds she holde:Although on juice of Ambrosie continually she feede:Yet Procris was the only Wight that I did love in deede. On Procris only was my heart: none other word had IBut Procris only in my mouth: still Procris did I crie.I upned what a holy thing was wedlocke: and how lateIt was ago since she and I were coupled in that state.Which band (and specially so soone) it were a shame to breake. The Goddesse being moved at the words that I did speake,Said: Cease thy plaint, thou Carle, and keepe thy Procris still for me.But (if my minde deceyve me not) the time will shortly beThat wish thou wilt thou had hir not. And so in anger sheTo Procris sent me backe againe. In going homeward as Upon the Goddesse sayings with my selfe I musing was,I gan to dreade bad measures lest my wife had made some scape.Hir youthfull yeares begarnished with beautie, grace and shape,In maner made me to beleve the deede already done.Againe hir maners did forbid mistrusting over soone. But I had bene away: but even the same from whom I cameA shrewde example gave how lightly wives doe run in blame:But we poore Lovers are afraide of all things. HereuponI thought to practise feates: which thing repented me anon:And shall repent me while I live. The purpose of my drifts Was for t'assault hir honestie with great rewards and gifts.The Morning fooding this my feare, to further my device,My shape (which thing me thought I felt) had altered with a trice.By meanes whereof anon unknowne to Pallas towne I came,And entred so my house: the house was clearely voide of blame: And shewed signes of chastitie in mourning ever sithTheir maister had bene rapt away. A thousand meanes wherewithTo come to Procris speach had I devisde: and scarce at lastObteinde I it. As soone as I mine eie upon hir cast,My wits were ravisht in such wise that nigh I had forgot The purposde triall of hir troth. Right much adoe God wotI had to holde mine owne that I the truth bewrayed not.To keepe my selfe from kissing hir full much adoe I hadAs reason was I should have done. She looked verie sad.And yet as sadly as she lookte, no Wight alive can show A better countenance than did she. Hir heart did inward glowIn longing for hir absent spouse. How beautifull a faceThinke you, Sir Phocus, was in hir whome sorrow so did grace?What should I make report how oft hir chast behaviour straveAnd overcame most constantly the great assaults I gave? Or tell how oft she shet me up with these same words? To one(Where ere he is) I keepe my selfe, and none but he aloneShall sure enjoy the use of me. What creature having hisWits perfect would not be content with such a proofe as thisOf hir most stedfast chastitie? I could not be content: But still to purchase to my selfe more wo I further went.At last by profering endlesse welth, and heaping gifts on gifts,In overlading hir with wordes I drave hir to hir shifts.Then cride I out: Thine evill heart my selfe I tardie take.Where of a straunge advouterer the countenance I did make, I am in deede thy husband. O unfaithfull woman thou,Even I my selfe can testifie thy lewde behavior now.She made none answere to my words, but being stricken dumAnd with the sorrow of hir heart alonly overcum,Forsaketh hir entangling house, and naughtie husband quight: And hating all the sort of men by reason of the spightThat I had wrought hir, straide abrode among the Mountaines hie,And exercisde Dianas feates. Then kindled by and byA fiercer fire within my bones than ever was before,When she had thus forsaken me by whome I set such store. I prayde hir she woulde pardon me, and did confesse my fault.Affirming that my selfe likewise with such a great assaultOf richesse might right well have bene enforst to yeelde to blame,The rather if performance had ensewed of the same.When I had this submission made, and she sufficiently Revengde hir wronged chastitie, she then immediatlyWas reconcilde: and afterward we lived many a yeareIn joy and never any jarre betweene us did appeare.Besides all this (as though hir love had bene too small a gift)She gave me eke a goodly Grewnd which was of foote so swift, That when Diana gave him hir, she said he should outgoAll others, and with this same Grewnd she gave this Dart alsoThe which you see I hold in hand. Perchaunce ye faine would knowWhat fortune to the Grewnd befell. I will unto you showA wondrous case. The straungenesse of the matter will you move.

The krinkes of certaine Prophesies surmounting farre aboveThe reach of auncient wits to read, the Brookenymphes did expound:And mindlesse of hir owne darke doubts Dame Themis being found,Was as a rechelesse Prophetisse throwne flat against the ground.For which presumptuous deede of theirs she tooke just punishment. To Thebes in Baeotia streight a cruell beast she sent,Which wrought the bane of many a Wight. The countryfolk did feedHim with their cattell and themselves, untill (as was agreed)That all we youthfull Gentlemen that dwelled there aboutAssembling pitcht our corded toyles the champion fields throughout. But Net ne toyle was none so hie that could his wightnesse stop,He mounted over at his ease the highest of the top.Then everie man let slip their Grewnds, but he them all outstriptAnd even as nimbly as a birde in daliance from them whipt.Then all the field desired me to let my Laelaps go:(The Grewnd that Procris unto me did give was named so)Who strugling for to wrest his necke already from the bandDid stretch his collar. Scarsly had we let him off of handBut that where Laelaps was become we could not understand.The print remained of his feete upon the parched sand,But he was clearly out of sight. Was never Dart I trow,Nor Pellet from enforced Sling, nor shaft from Cretish bow,That flew more swift than he did runne. There was not farre fro thenceAbout the middle of the Laund a rising ground, from whenceA man might overlooke the fieldes. I gate me to the knapOf this same hill, and there beheld of this straunge course the hapIn which the beast seemes one while caught, and ere a man would think,Doth quickly give the Grewnd the slip, and from his bighting shrink:And like a wilie Foxe he runnes not forth directly out,Nor makes a windlasse over all the champion fieldes about, But doubling and indenting still avoydes his enmies lips,And turning short, as swift about as spinning wheele he whips,To disapoint the snatch. The Grewnd pursuing at an inchDoth cote him, never losing ground: but likely still to pinchIs at the sodaine shifted off. Continually he snatches In vaine: for nothing in his mouth save only Aire he latches.Then thought I for to trie what helpe my Dart at neede could show.Which as I charged in my hand by levell aime to throw,And set my fingars to the thongs, I lifting from bylowMine eies, did looke right forth againe, and straight amids the field (A wondrous thing) two Images of Marble I beheld:Of which ye would have thought the t'one had fled on still apaceAnd that with open barking mouth the tother did him chase.In faith it was the will of God (at least if any GoddesHad care of them) that in their pace there should be found none oddes. Thus farre: and then he held his peace. But tell us ere we part(Quoth Phocus) what offence or fault committed hath your Dart?His Darts offence he thus declarde: My Lorde, the ground of allMy grief was joy. Those joyes of mine remember first I shall.It doth me good even yet to thinke upon that blissfull time ( meane the fresh and lustie yeares of pleasant youthfull Prime)When I a happie man enjoyde so faire and good a wife,And she with such a loving make did lead a happie life.The care was like of both of us, the mutuall love all one.She would not to have line with Jove my presence have forgone. Ne was there any Wight that could of me have wonne the love,No though Dame Venus had hir selfe descended from above.The glowing brands of love did burne in both our brests alike.Such time as first with crased beames the Sunne is wont to strikeThe tops of Towres and mountaines high, according to the wont Of youthfull men, in woodie Parkes I went abrode to hunt.But neither horse nor Hounds to make pursuit upon the scent.Nor Servingman, nor knottie toyle before or after went,For I was safe with this same Dart. When wearie waxt mine armeWith striking Deere, and that the day did make me somewhat warme, Withdrawing for to coole my selfe I sought among the shadesFor Aire that from the valleyes colde came breathing in at glades.The more excessive was my heate the more for Aire I sought.I waited for the gentle Aire: the Aire was that that broughtRefreshing to my wearie limmes. And (well I bear't in thought) Come Aire I wonted was to sing, come ease the paine of meWithin my bosom lodge thy selfe most welcome unto me,And as thou heretofore art wont abate my burning heate.By chaunce (such was my destinie) proceeding to repeateMo words of daliance like to these, I used for to say Great pleasure doe I take in thee: for thou from day to dayDoste both refresh and nourish me. Thou makest me delightIn woods and solitarie grounds. Now would to God I mightReceive continuall at my mouth this pleasant breath of thine.Some man (I wote not who) did heare these doubtfull words of mine, And taking them amisse supposde that this same name of AireThe which I callde so oft upon, had bene some Ladie faire:He thought that I had lovde some Nymph. And thereupon streight wayHe runnes me like a Harebrainde blab to Procris, to bewrayThis fault as he surmised it: and there with lavish tung Reported all the wanton words that he had heard me sung.A thing of light beliefe is love. She (as I since have harde)For sodeine sorrow swounded downe: and when long afterwardeShe came againe unto hir selfe, she said she was accurstAnd borne to cruell destinie: and me she blamed wurst For breaking faith: and freating at a vaine surmised shameShe dreaded that which nothing was: she fearde a headlesse name.She wist not what to say or thinke. The wretch did greatly feareDeceit: yet could she not beleve the tales that talked were.Onlesse she saw hir husbands fault apparant to hir eie, She thought she would not him condemne of any villanie.Next day as soone as Morning light had driven the night away,I went abrode to hunt againe: and speeding, as I layUpon the grasse, I said: Come, Aire, and ease my painfull heate.And on the sodaine as I spake there seemed for to beate A certaine sighing in mine eares of what I could not gesse.But ceasing not for that I still proceeded nathelesse:And said, O come, most pleasant Aire. With that I heard a soundOf russling softly in the leaves that lay upon the ground.And thinking it had bene some beast I threw my flying Dart.It was my wife. Who being now sore wounded at the hart,Cride out, Alas. As soone as I perceyved by the shriekeIt was my faithfull spouse, I ran me to the voiceward liekeA madman that had lost his wits. There found I hir halfe dead,Hir scattred garments staining in the bloud that she had bled, And (wretched creature as I am) yet drawing from the woundThe gift that she hir selfe had given. Then softly from the groundI lifted up that bodie of hirs of which I was more chareThan of mine owne, and from hir brest hir clothes in hast I tare.And binding up hir cruell wound I strived for to stay The bloud, and prayd she would not thus by passing so awayForsake me as a murtherer: she waxing weake at lengthAnd drawing to hir death apace, enforced all hir strengthTo utter these few wordes at last: I pray thee humbly byOur bond of wedlocke, by the Gods as well above the Skie As those to whome I now must passe, as ever I have oughtDeserved well by thee, and by the Love which having broughtMe to my death doth even in death unfaded still remaine,To nestle in thy bed and mine let never Aire obtaine.This sed, she held hir peace, and I perceyved by the sameAnd tolde hir also how she was beguiled in the name.But what avayled telling then? she quoathde: and with hir bloudHir little strength did fade. Howbeit as long as that she coudSee ought, she stared in my face and gasping still on meEven in my mouth she breathed forth hir wretched ghost. But sheDid seeme with better cheare to die for that hir conscience wasDischarged quight and cleare of doubtes. Now in conclusion asDuke Cephal weeping told this tale to Phocus and the restWhose eyes were also moyst with teares to heare the pitious gest,Behold King Aeacus and with him his eldest sonnes both twaineDid enter in and after them there followed in a traineOf well appointed men of warre new levied: which the KingDelivered unto Cephalus to Athens towne to bring.

The day starre now beginning to disclose the Morning brightAnd for to dense the droupie Skie from darkenesse of the night,The Easterne wind went downe and flakes of foggie Clouds gan show,And from the South a merrie gale on Cephals sayles did blow.The which did hold so fresh and large, that he and all his men Before that he was looked for arrived safe agenIn wished Haven. In that while King Minos with his fleeteDid waste the cost of Megara. And first he thought it meeteTo make a triall of the force and courage of his menAgainst the towne Alcathoe where Nisus reigned then. Among whose honorable haire that was of colour gray,One scarlet haire did grow upon his crowne, whereon the stayOf all his Kingdome did depende. Sixe times did Phoebe fillHir homes with borrowed light, and yet the warre hung wavering stillIn fickle fortunes doubtfull scaales: and long with fleeting wings Betwene them both flew victorie. A Turret of the KingsStood hard adjoyning to the Wall which being touched rings,For Phoebus (so men say) did lay his golden Violl there,And so the stones the sound thereof did ever after beare.King Nisus daughter oftentimes resorted to this Wall And strake it with a little stone to raise the sound withall,In time of peace. And in the warre she many a time and oftBehelde the sturdie stormes of Mars from that same place aloft.And by continuance of the siege the Captaines names she knew,Their armes, horse, armor and aray in everie band and crew. Bit specially above the rest she noted Minos face.She knew inough and more than was inough as stoode the case.For were it that he hid his head in Helme with fethered crest,To hir opinion in his Helme he stayned all the rest.Or were it that he tooke in hand of steele his target bright, She thought in weelding of his shielde he was a comly Knight.Or were it that he raisde his arme to throw the piercing Dart,The Ladie did commend his force and manhode joynde with Art.Or drew he with his arrow nockt his bended Bow in handShe sware that so in all respectes was Phoebus wont to stand. But when he shewde his visage bare, his Helmet laid aside,And on a Milke white Steede brave trapt, in Purple Robe did ride,She scarce was Mistresse of hir selfe, hir wits were almost straught.A happie Dart she thought it was that he in fingars caught,And happie called she those reynes that he in hand had raught. And if she might have had hir will, she could have founde in hart,Among the enmies to have gone. She could have found in hart,From downe the highest Turret there hir bodie to have throwne,Among the thickest of the Tents of Gnossus to have flowne,Or for to ope the brazen gates and let the enmie in, Or whatsoever else she thought might Minos favor win.And as she sate beholding still the King of Candies tent,She said: I doubt me whether that I rather may lamentOr of this wofull warre be glad. It grieves me at the hartThat thou O Minos unto me thy Lover enmie art. But had not this same warfare bene, I never had him knowne.Yet might he leave this cruell warre, and take me as his owne.A wife, a feere, a pledge for peace he might receive of me.O flowre of beautie, O thou Prince most pearlesse: if that sheThat bare thee in hir wombe were like in beautie unto thee, A right good cause had Jove on hir enamored for to bee.Oh happie were I if with wings I through the Aire might glideAnd safely to King Minos Tent from this same Turret slide.Then would I utter who I am, and how the firie flameOf Cupid burned in my brest, desiring him to name What dowrie he would aske with me in loan of his love,Save only of my Fathers Realme no question he should move.For rather than by traitrous meanes my purpose should take place,Adue, desire of hoped Love. Yet oftentimes such graceHath from the gentle Conqueror proceeded erst, that they Which tooke the foyle have found the same their profit and their stay.Assuredly the warre is just that Minos takes in hand,As in revengement of his sonne late murthered in this land.And as his quarrell seemeth just, even so it cannot faile,But rightfull warre against the wrong must (I beleve) prevaile. Now if this Citie in the ende must needes be taken, whyShould his owne sworde and not my Love be meanes to win it by?It were yet better he should speede by gentle meanes withoutThe slaughter of his people, yea and (as it may fall out)With spending of his owne bloud too. For sure I have a care O Minos lest some Souldier wound thee ere he be aware.For who is he in all the world that hath so hard a hartThat wittingly against thy head would aime his cruell Dart?I like well this devise, and on this purpose will I stand:To yeelde my selfe endowed with this Citie to the handOf Minos: and in doing so to bring this warre to ende.But smally it availeth me the matter to intende.The gates and yssues of this towne are kept with watch and warde,And of the Keyes continually my Father hath the garde.My Father only is the man of whome I stand in dreede, My Father only hindreth me of my desired speede.Would God that I were Fatherlesse. Tush, everie Wight may beeA God as in their owne behalfe, and if their hearts be freeFrom fearefulnesse. For fortune works against the fond desireOf such as through faint heartednesse attempt not to aspire. Some other feeling in hir heart such flames of Cupids fireAlready would have put in proofe some practise to destroyWhat thing so ever of hir Love the furtherance might anoyAnd why should any woman have a bolder heart than I?Through fire and sword I boldly durst adventure for to flie. And yet in this behalfe at all there needes no sword nor fire,There needeth but my fathers haire to accomplish my desire. IThat Purple haire of his to me more precious were than golde:That Purple haire of his would make me blest a thousand folde:That haire would compasse my desire and set my heart at rest.

Night (chiefest Nurce of thoughts to such as are with care opprest)Approched while she spake these words, and darknesse did encreaseHir boldnesse. At such time as folke are wont to finde releaseOf cares that all the day before were working in their heds,By sleepe which falleth first of all upon them in their beds, Hir fathers chamber secretly she entered: where (alasseThat ever Maiden should so farre the bounds of Nature passe)She robde hir Father of the haire upon the which the fateDepended both of life and death and of his royall state.And joying in hir wicked prey, she beares it with hir soAs if it were some lawfull spoyle acquired of the fo.And passing through a posterne gate she marched through the midOf all hir enmies (such a trust she had in that she did)Untill she came before the King, whom troubled with the sightShe thus bespake: Enforst, O King, by love against all right I Scylla, Nisus daughter, doe present unto thee heereMy native soyle, my household Gods, and all that else is deereFor this my gift none other thing in recompence I craveThan of thy person which I love, fruition for to have.And in assurance of my love receyve thou here of mee My fathers Purple haire: and thinke I give not unto theeA haire but even my fathers head. And as these words she spake,The cursed gift with wicked hand she profered him to take.But Minos did abhorre hir gift: and troubled in his mindeWith straungenesse of the heynous act so sore against hir kinde, He aunswerde: O thou slaunder of our age, the Gods expellThee out of all this world of theirs and let thee no where dwell.Let rest on neither Sea nor Land be graunted unto thee.Assure thy selfe that as for me I never will agreeThat Candie, Joves owne foster place (as long as I there raigne), Shall unto such a monstruous Wight a Harbrow place remaine.This said, he like a righteous Judge among his vanquisht foesSet order under paine of death. Which done he willed thoseThat served him to go aboorde and Anchors up to wey.When Scylla saw the Candian fleete aflote to go away, And that the Captaine yeelded not so good reward as sheeHad for hir lewdnesse looked for: and when in fine she seeThat no entreatance could prevaile, then bursting out in ireWith stretched hands and scattred haire, as furious as the fireShe shraming cryed out aloud: And whither doste thou flie Rejecting me, the only meanes that thou hast conquerde by?O cankerde Churle preferde before my native soyle, preferdBefore my father, whither flyste, O Carle of heart most hard?Whose conquest as it is my sinne, so doth it well deserveReward of thee, for that my fault so well thy turne did serve. Doth neither thee the gift I gave, nor yet my faithfull love,Nor yet that all my hope on thee alonly rested, move?For whither shall I now resort forsaken thus of thee?To Megara the wretched soyle of my nativitie?Behold it lieth vanquished and troden under foote. But put the case it flourisht still: yet could it nothing boote.I have foreclosde it to my selfe through treason when I gaveMy fathers head to thee. Whereby my countriefolke I draveTo hate me justly for my crime. And all the Realmes aboutMy lewde example doe abhorre. Thus have I shet me out Of all the world that only Crete might take me in, which ifThou like a Churle denie, and cast me up without relief,The Ladie Europ surely was not mother unto thee:But one of Affricke Sirts where none but Serpents fostred bee,But even some cruell Tiger bred in Armen or in Inde, Or else the Gulfe Charybdis raisde with rage of Southerne winde.Thou wert not got by Jove: ne yet thy mother was beguildeIn shape of Bull: of this thy birth the tale is false compilde.But rather some unwieldie Bull even altogither wildeThat never lowed after Cow was out of doubt thy Sire. O father Nisus, put thou me to penance for my hire.Rejoyce thou in my punishment, thou towne by me betrayd.I have deserved (I confesse) most justly to be paydWith death. But let some one of them that through my lewdnesse smartDestroy me, why doste thou that by my crime a gainer art, Commit like crime thy selfe? Admit this wicked act of meAs to my land and Fatherward in deede most hainous be.Yet oughtest thou to take it as a friendship unto thee.But she was meete to be thy wife, that in a Cow of treeCould play the Harlot with a Bull, and in hir wombe could beare A Barne, in whome the shapes of man and beasts confounded were.How sayst thou, Carle? compell not these my words thine eares to glow?Or doe the windes that drive thy shyps, in vaine my sayings blow?In faith it is no wonder though thy wife PasiphaePreferrde a Bull to thee, for thou more cruell wert than he. Now wo is me. To make more hast it standeth me in hand.The water sounds with Ores, and hales from me and from my land.In vaine thou striveth, O thou Churle, forgetfull quight of myDesertes: for even in spight of thee pursue thee still will I.Upon thy courbed Keele will I take holde: and hanging so Be drawen along the Sea with thee where ever thou do go.She scarce had said these words, but that she leaped on the waveAnd getting to the ships by force of strength that Love hir gaveUpon the King of Candies Keele in spight of him she clave.Whome when hir father spide (for now he hovered in the aire, And being made a Hobby Hauke did soare between a paireOf nimble wings of yron Mayle) he soused downe amaineTo seaze upon hir as she hung, and would have tome hir faineWith bowing Beake. But she for feare did let the Caricke go:And as she was about to fall, the lightsome Aire did so Uphold hir that she could not touch the Sea as seemed tho.Anon all fethers she became, and forth away did flieTransformed to a pretie Bird that stieth to the Skie.And for bicause like clipped haire hir head doth beare a marke,The Greekes it Cyris call, and we doe name the same a Larke.