This likes her best. Uppon this poynt now restes her doubtful mynd. So raysing up herself uppon her leftsyde shee enclynd,And leaning on her elbow sayd: Let him advyse him whatTo doo, for I my franticke love will utter playne and flat.Alas to what ungraciousnesse intend I for to fall?What furie raging in my hart my senses dooth appall? In thinking so, with trembling hand shee framed her to wryghtThe matter that her troubled mynd in musing did indyght.Her ryght hand holdes the pen, her left dooth hold the empty wax.She ginnes. Shee doutes, shee wryghtes: shee in the tables findeth lacks.She notes, she blurres, dislikes, and likes: and chaungeth this for that. Shee layes away the booke, and takes it up. Shee wotes not whatShe would herself. What ever thing shee myndeth for to dooMisliketh her. A shamefastnesse with boldenesse mixt theretoWas in her countnance. Shee had once writ Suster: Out agenThe name of Suster for to raze shee thought it best. And then She snatcht the tables up, and did theis following woords ingrave:The health which if thou give her not shee is not like to haveThy lover wisheth unto thee. I dare not ah for shameI dare not tell thee who I am, nor let thee heare my name.And if thou doo demaund of mee what thing I doo desyre, Would God that namelesse I myght pleade the matter I requyre,And that I were unknowen to thee by name of Byblis, tillAssurance of my sute were wrought according to my will.As tokens of my wounded hart myght theis to thee appeere:My colour pale, my body leane, my heavy mirthlesse cheere, My watry eyes, my sighes without apparent causes why,My oft embracing of thee: and such kisses (if perdyeThou marked them) as very well thou might have felt and foundNot for to have beene Susterlike. But though with greevous woundI then were striken to the hart, although the raging flame Did burne within: yit take I God to witnesse of the same,I did as much as lay in mee this outrage for to tame.And long I stryved (wretched wench) to scape the violent DartOf Cupid. More I have endurde of hardnesse and of smart,Than any wench (a man would think) were able to abyde. Force forceth mee to shew my case which faine I still would hyde,And mercy at thy gentle hand in fearfull wyse to crave.Thou only mayst the lyfe of mee thy lover spill or save.Choose which thou wilt. No enmy craves this thing: but such a oneAs though shee bee alyde so sure as surer can bee none, Yit covets shee more surely yit alyed for to bee,And with a neerer kynd of band to link her selfe to thee.Let aged folkes have skill in law: to age it dooth belongTo keepe the rigor of the lawes and search out ryght from wrong.Such youthfull yeeres as ours are yit rash folly dooth beseeme. Wee know not what is lawfull yit. And therefore wee may deemeThat all is lawfull that wee list: ensewing in the sameThe dooings of the myghtye Goddes. Not dread of worldly shameNor yit our fathers roughnesse, no nor fearfulnesse should letOur purpose. Only let all feare asyde be wholy set. ~Wee underneath the name of kin our pleasant scapes may hyde.Thou knowest I have libertie to talke with thee asyde,And openly wee kysse and cull. And what is all the restThat wants? Have mercy on mee now, who playnly have exprestMy case: which thing I had not done, but that the utter rage Of love constreynes mee thereunto the which I cannot swage.Deserve not on my tumb thy name subscribed for to have,That thou art he whose cruelnesse did bring mee to my grave.Thus much shee wrate in vayne, and wax did want her to indyght,And in the margent she was fayne the latter verse to wryght. Immediatly to seale her shame shee takes a precious stone,The which shee moystes with teares: from tung the moysture quight was gone.She calld a servant shamefastly, and after certaine fayreAnd gentle woords: My trusty man, I pray thee beare this payreOf tables (quoth shee) to my (and a great whyle afterward Shee added) brother. Now through chaunce or want of good regardThe table slipped downe to ground in reaching to him ward.The handsell troubled sore her mynd. But yit shee sent them. AndHer servant spying tyme did put them into Caunyes hand.Maeanders nephew sodeinly in anger floong away The tables ere he half had red, (scarce able for to stayHis fistocke from the servants face who quaakt) and thus did say:Avaunt, thou baudye ribawd, whyle thou mayst. For were it notFor shame I should have killed thee. Away afrayd he got,And told his mistresse of the feerce and cruell answer made By Caunye. By and by the hew of Byblis gan to fade,And all her body was benumd with Icie colde for feareTo heere of this repulse. Assoone as that her senses wereReturnd ageine, her furious flames returned with her witts.And thus shee sayd so soft that scarce hir toong the ayer hitts: And woorthely. For why was I so rash as to discoverBy hasty wryghting this my wound which most I ought to cover?I should with dowtfull glauncing woords have felt his humor furst,And made a trayne to trye him if pursue or no he durst.I should have vewed first the coast, to see the weather cleere, And then I myght have launched sauf and boldly from the peere.But now I hoyst up all my sayles before I tryde the wynd:And therfore am I driven uppon the rockes against my mynd,And all the sea dooth overwhelme mee. Neyther may I fyndThe meanes to get to harbrough, or from daunger to retyre. Why did not open tokens warne to bridle my desyre,Then when the tables falling in delivering them declaardMy hope was vaine? And ought not I then eyther to have spaardFrom sending them as that day? or have chaunged whole my mynd?Nay rather shifted of the day? For had I not beene blynd Even God himself by soothfast signes the sequele seemd to hit.Yea rather than to wryghting thus my secrets to commit,I should have gone and spoke myself, and presently have showdeMy fervent love. He should have seene how teares had from mee flowde.Hee should have seene my piteous looke ryght loverlike. I could Have spoken more than into those my tables enter would.About his necke against his will, myne armes I myght have woundAnd had he shaakt me off, I myght have seemed for to swound.I humbly myght have kist his feete, and kneeling on the groundBesought him for to save my lyfe. All theis I myght have proved, Wherof although no one alone his stomacke could have moved,Yit all togither myght have made his hardened hart relent.Perchaunce there was some fault in him that was of message sent.He stept unto him bluntly (I beleeve) and did not watchConvenient tyme, in merrie kew at leysure him to catch.Theis are the things that hindred mee. For certeinly I knoweNo sturdy stone nor massy steele dooth in his stomacke grow.He is not made of Adamant. He is no Tygers whelp.He never sucked Lyonesse. He myght with little helpBee vanquisht. Let us give fresh charge uppon him. Whyle I live Without obteyning victorie I will not over give.For firstly (if it lay in mee my dooings to revoke)I should not have begonne at all. But seeing that the strokeIs given, the second poynt is now to give the push to win.For neyther he (although that I myne enterpryse should blin) Can ever whyle he lives forget my deede. And sith I shrink,My love was lyght, or else I meant to trap him, he shall think.Or at the least he may suppose that this my rage of loveWhich broyleth so within my brest, proceedes not from aboveBy Cupids stroke, but of some foule and filthy lust. In fyne I cannot but to wickednesse now more and more inclyne.By wryghting is my sute commenst: my meening dooth appeere:And though I cease: yit can I not accounted bee for cleere.Now that that dooth remayne behynd is much as in respectMy fond desyre to satisfy: and little in effect To aggravate my fault withall.

Thus much shee sayd. And soUnconstant was her wavering mynd still floting to and fro,That though it irkt her for to have attempted, yit proceedesShee in the selfsame purpose of attempting, and exceedesAll measure, and, unhappy wench, shee takes from day to dayRepulse upon repulse, and yit shee hath not grace to stay.Soone after when her brother saw there was with her no end,He fled his countrie forbycause he would not so offend,And in a forreine land did buyld a Citie. Then men sayThat Byblis through despayre and thought all wholy did dismay.Shee tare her garments from her brest, and furiously shee wroongHer hands, and beete her armes, and like a bedlem with her toongConfessed her unlawfull love. But beeing of the sameDispoynted, shee forsooke her land and hatefull house for shame,And followed after flying Caune. And as the Froes of Thrace In dooing of the three yeere rites of Bacchus: in lyke caceThe maryed wyves of Bubasie saw Byblis howling outThrough all theyr champion feeldes, the which shee leaving, ran aboutIn Caria to the Lelegs who are men in battell stout,And so to Lycia. Shee had past Crag, Limyre, and the brooke Of Xanthus, and the countrie where Chymaera that same pookeHath Goatish body, Lions head and brist, and Dragons tayle,When woods did want: and Byblis now beginning for to quayleThrough weerynesse in following Caune, sank down and layd her hedAgeinst the ground, and kist the leaves that wynd from trees had shed. The Nymphes of Caria went about in tender armes to takeHer often up. They oftentymes perswaded her to slakeHer love. And woords of comfort to her deafe eard mynd they spake.Shee still lay dumbe: and with her nayles the greenish herbes shee hild,And moysted with a streame of teares the grasse upon the feeld. The waternymphes (so folk report) put under her a spring,Whych never myght be dryde: and could they give a greater thing?Immediatly even like as when yee wound a pitchtree rynd,The gum dooth issue out in droppes: or as the westerne wyndWith gentle blast toogither with the warmth of Sunne, unbynd The yee: or as the clammy kynd of cement which they callBitumen issueth from the ground full fraughted therewithall:So Phoebus neece, Dame Byblis, then consuming with her teares,Was turned to a fountaine, which in those same vallyes bearesThe tytle of the founder still, and gusheth freshly out From underneath a Sugarchest as if it were a spowt.

The fame of this same wondrous thing perhappes had filled allThe hundred Townes of Candye had a greater not befallMore neerer home by Iphys meanes transformed late before.For in the shyre of Phestos hard by Gnossus dwelt of yore A yeoman of the meaner sort that Lyctus had to name.His stocke was simple, and his welth according to the same.Howbee't his lyfe so upryght was, as no man could it blame.He came unto his wyfe then big and ready downe to lye,And sayd: Two things I wish thee. T'one, that when thou out shalt crye, Thou mayst dispatch with little payne: the other that thou haveA Boay. For Gyrles to bring them up a greater cost doo crave.And I have no abilitie. And therefore if thou bringA wench (it goes ageinst my heart to thinke uppon the thing)Although ageinst my will, I charge it streyght destroyed bee. The bond of nature needes must beare in this behalf with meeThis sed, both wept exceedingly, as well the husband whoDid give commaundement, as the wyfe that was commaunded too.Yit Telethusa earnestly at Lyct her husband lay,(Although in vayne) to have good hope, and of himselfe more stay. But he was full determined. Within a whyle, the dayApproched that the frute was rype, and shee did looke to layHer belly every mynute: when at midnyght in her restStood by her (or did seeme to stand) the Goddesse Isis, drestAnd trayned with the solemne pomp of all her rytes. Two homes Uppon her forehead lyke the moone, with eares of rypened comesStood glistring as the burnisht gold. Moreover shee did weareA rich and stately diademe. Attendant on her wereThe barking bug Anubis, and the saint of Bubast, andThe pydecote Apis, and the God that gives to understand By fingar holden to his lippes that men should silence keepe,And Lybian wormes whose strnging dooth enforce continuall sleepe,And thou, Osyris, whom the folk of Aegypt ever seeke,And never can have sought inough, and Rittlerattles eke.Then even as though that Telethuse had fully beene awake, And seene theis things with open eyes, thus Isis to her spake:My servant Telethusa, cease this care, and breake the chargeOf Lyct. And when Lucina shall have let thy frute at large,Bring up the same what ere it bee. I am a Goddesse whoDelyghts in helping folke at neede. I hither come to doo Thee good. Thou shalt not have a cause hereafter to complayneOf serving of a Goddesse that is thanklesse for thy payne.When Isis had this comfort given, shee went her way agayne.A joyfull wyght rose Telethuse, and lifting to the skyHer hardened hands, did pray hir dreame myght woorke effectually. Her throwes increast, and forth alone anon the burthen came,A wench was borne to Lyctus who knew nothing of the same.The mother making him beleeve it was a boay, did bringIt up, and none but shee and nurce were privie to the thing.The father thanking God did give the chyld the Graundsyres name, The which was Iphys. Joyfull was the moother of the same,Bycause the name did serve alike to man and woman bothe,And so the lye through godly guile forth unperceyved gothe.The garments of it were a boayes. The face of it was suchAs eyther in a boay or gyrle of beawtie uttered much. When Iphys was of thirteene yeeres, her father did insureThe browne Ianthee unto her, a wench of looke demure,Commended for her favor and her person more than allThe Maydes of Phestos: Telest, men her fathers name did call.He dwelt in Dyctis. They were bothe of age and favor leeke, And under both one schoolemayster they did for nurture seeke.And hereupon the hartes of both, the dart of Love did streeke,And wounded both of them aleeke. But unlike was theyr hope.Both longed for the wedding day togither for to cope.For whom Ianthee thinkes to bee a man, shee hopes to see Her husband. Iphys loves whereof shee thinkes shee may not beePartaker, and the selfesame thing augmenteth still her flame.Herself a Mayden with a Mayd (ryght straunge) in love became.Shee scarce could stay her teares. What end remaynes for mee (quoth shee)How straunge a love? how uncoth? how prodigious reygnes in mee? If that the Gods did favor mee, they should destroy mee quyght.Of if they would not mee destroy, at least wyse yit they myghtHave given mee such a maladie as myght with nature stond,Or nature were acquainted with. A Cow is never fondUppon a Cow, nor Mare on Mare. The Ram delyghts the Eawe, The Stag the Hynde, the Cocke the Hen. But never men could shew,That female yit was tane in love with female kynd. O wouldTo God I never had beene borne. Yit least that Candy shouldNot bring foorth all that monstruous were, the daughter of the SonneDid love a Bull. Howbee't there was a Male to dote uppon. My love is furiouser than hers, if truthe confessed bee.For shee was fond of such a lust as myght bee compast. SheeWas served by a Bull beguyld by Art in Cow of tree.And one there was for her with whom advowtrie to commit.If all the conning in the worlde and slyghts of suttle witWere heere, or if that Daedalus himselfe with uncowth wingOf Wax should hither fly againe, what comfort should he bring?Could he with all his conning crafts now make a boay of mee?Or could he, O Ianthee, chaunge the native shape of thee?Nay rather, Iphys, settle thou thy mynd and call thy witts Abowt thee: shake thou off theis flames that foolishly by fittsWithout all reason reigne. Thou seest what Nature hathe thee made(Onlesse thow wilt deceyve thy selfe.) So farre foorth wysely wade,As ryght and reason may support, and love as women ought.Hope is the thing that breedes desyre, hope feedes the amorous thought. This hope thy sex denieth thee. Not watching doth restreyneThee from embracing of the thing wherof thou art so fayne.Nor yit the Husbands jealowsie, nor rowghnesse of her Syre,Nor yit the coynesse of the Wench dooth hinder thy desyre.And yit thou canst not her enjoy. No, though that God and manShould labor to their uttermost and doo the best they canIn thy behalfe, they could not make a happy wyght of thee.I cannot wish the thing but that I have it. Frank and freeThe Goddes have given mee what they could. As I will, so will beeThat must become my fathrinlaw. So willes my father, too. But nature stronger than them all consenteth not thereto.This hindreth mee, and nothing else. Behold the blisfull tyme,The day of Mariage is at hand. Ianthee shalbee myne,And yit I shall not her enjoy. Amid the water weeShall thirst. O Juno, president of mariage, why with thee Comes Hymen to this wedding where no brydegroome you shall see,But bothe are Brydes that must that day togither coupled bee?

This spoken, shee did hold hir peace. And now the tother maydDid burne as hote in love as shee. And earnestly shee praydThe brydale day myght come with speede. The thing for which shee longd Dame Telethusa fearing sore, from day to day prolongdThe tyme, oft feyning siknesse, oft pretending shee had seeneIll tokens of successe. At length all shifts consumed beene.The wedding day so oft delayd was now at hand. The dayBefore it, taking from her head the kercheef quyght away, And from her daughters head likewyse, with scattred heare she laydHer handes upon the Altar, and with humble voyce thus prayd:O Isis, who doost haunt the towne of Paretonie, andThe feeldes by Maraeotis lake, and Pharos which dooth standBy Alexandria, and the Nyle divided into seven Great channels, comfort thou my feare, and send mee help from heaven,Thyself, O Goddesse, even thyself, and theis thy relikes IDid once behold and knew them all: as well thy companyAs eke thy sounding rattles, and thy cressets burning by,And myndfully I marked what commaundement thou didst give. That I escape unpunished, that this same wench dooth live,Thy counsell and thy hest it is. Have mercy now on twayne,And help us. With that word the teares ran downe her cheekes amayne.The Goddesse seemed for to move her Altar: and in deedeShe moved it. The temple doores did tremble like a reede. And homes in likenesse to the Moone about the Church did shyne.And Rattles made a raughtish noyse. At this same luckie signe,Although not wholy carelesse, yit ryght glad shee went away.And Iphys followed after her with larger pace than ayShee was accustomd. And her face continued not so whyght. Her strength encreased, and her looke more sharper was to syght.Her heare grew shorter, and shee had a much more lively spryght,Than when shee was a wench. For thou, O Iphys, who ryght nowA modther wert, art now a boay. With offrings both of yowTo Church retyre, and there rejoyce with fayth unfearfull. They With offrings went to Church ageine, and there theyr vowes did pay.They also set a table up, which this breef meeter had:The vowes that Iphys vowd a wench he hath performd a Lad.Next morrow over all the world did shine with lightsome flame,When Juno, and Dame Venus, and Sir Hymen joyntly came To Iphys mariage, who as then transformed to a boayDid take Ianthee to his wyfe, and so her love enjoy.

From thence in saffron colourd robe flew Hymen through the ayre,And into Thracia beeing called by Orphy did repayre.He came in deede at Orphyes call: but neyther did he singThe woordes of that solemnitie, nor merry countnance bring,Nor any handsell of good lucke. His torch with drizling smoke Was dim: the same to burne out cleere, no stirring could provoke.The end was woorser than the signe. For as the Bryde did romeAbrode accompanyde with a trayne of Nymphes to bring her home,A serpent lurking in the grasse did sting her in the ancle:Whereof shee dyde incontinent, so swift the bane did rancle. Whom when the Thracian Poet had bewayld sufficientlyOn earth, the Ghostes departed hence he minding for to trie,Downe at the gate of Taenarus did go to Limbo lake.And thence by gastly folk and soules late buried he did takeHis journey to Persephonee and to the king of Ghosts That like a Lordly tyran reignes in those unpleasant coasts.And playing on his tuned harp he thus began to sound:O you, the Sovereines of the world set underneath the ground,To whome wee all (what ever thing is made of mortall kynd)Repayre, if by your leave I now may freely speake my mynd, I come not hither as a spye the shady Hell to see:Nor yet the foule three headed Curre whose heares all Adders beeTo tye in cheynes. The cause of this my vyage is my wyfeWhose foote a Viper stinging did abridge her youthfull lyfe.I would have borne it paciently: and so to doo I strave, But Love surmounted powre. This God is knowen great force to haveAbove on earth. And whether he reigne heere or no I dowt.But I beleeve hee reignes heere too. If fame that flies abowtOf former rape report not wrong, Love coupled also yow.By theis same places full of feare: by this huge Chaos now, And by the stilnesse of this waste and emptye Kingdome, IBeseech yee of Eurydicee unreele the destinyeThat was so swiftly reeled up. All things to you belong.And though wee lingring for a whyle our pageants do prolong,Yit soone or late wee all to one abyding place doo rome: Wee haste us hither all: this place becomes our latest home:And you doo over humaine kynd reigne longest tyme. Now whenThis woman shall have lived full her tyme, shee shall agenBecome your owne. The use of her but for a whyle I crave.And if the Destnyes for my wyfe denye mee for to have Releace, I fully am resolvd for ever heere to dwell.Rejoyce you in the death of both. As he this tale did tell,And played on his instrument, the bloodlesse ghostes shed teares:To tyre on Titius growing hart the greedy Grype forbeares:The shunning water Tantalus endevereth not to drink:And Danaus daughters ceast to fill theyr tubbes that have no brink.Ixions wheele stood still: and downe sate Sisyphus upponHis rolling stone. Then first of all (so fame for truth hath gone)The Furies beeing striken there with pitie at his songDid weepe. And neyther Pluto nor his Ladie were so strong And hard of stomacke to withhold his just petition long.They called foorth Eurydicee who was as yit amongThe newcome Ghosts, and limped of her wound. Her husband tookeHer with condicion that he should not backe uppon her looke,Untill the tyme that hee were past the bounds of Limbo quyght: Or else to lose his gyft. They tooke a path that steepe upryghtRose darke and full of foggye mist. And now they were withinA kenning of the upper earth, when Orphye did beginTo dowt him lest shee followed not, and through an eager loveDesyrous for to see her he his eyes did backward move. Immediatly shee slipped backe. He retching out his hands,Desyrous to bee caught and for to ketch her grasping stands.But nothing save the slippry aire (unhappy man) he caught.Shee dying now the second tyme complaynd of Orphye naught.For why what had shee to complayne, onlesse it were of love Which made her husband backe agen his eyes uppon her move?Her last farewell shee spake so soft, that scarce he heard the sound,And then revolted to the place in which he had her found.This double dying of his wife set Orphye in a stound,No lesse than him who at the syght of Plutos dreadfull Hound That on the middle necke of three dooth beare an iron cheyne,Was striken in a sodein feare and could it not restreyne,Untill the tyme his former shape and nature beeing gone,His body quyght was overgrowne, and turned into stone.Or than the foolish Olenus, who on himself did take Anothers fault, and giltlesse needes himself would giltie make,Togither with his wretched wyfe Lethaea, for whose prydeThey both becomming stones, doo stand even yit on watry Ide.He would have gone to Hell ageine, and earnest sute did make:But Charon would not suffer him to passe the Stygian lake. Seven dayes he sate forlorne uppon the bank and never eateA bit of bread. Care, teares, and thought, and sorrow were his meateAnd crying out uppon the Gods of Hell as cruell, heeWithdrew to lofty Rhodopee and Heme which beaten beeWith Northern wynds. Three tymes the Sunne had passed through the sheere And watry signe of Pisces and had finisht full the yeere,And Orphye (were it that his ill successe hee still did rew,Or that he vowed so to doo) did utterly eschewThe womankynd. Yit many a one desyrous were to matchWith him, but he them with repulse did all alike dispatch. He also taught the Thracian folke a stewes of Males to makeAnd of the flowring pryme of boayes the pleasure for to take.