And though he did abyde In all parts else bothe sauf and sound, yit this deformityeDid cut his comb: and for to hyde this blemish from the eyeHe hydes his hurt with Sallow leaves, or else with sedge and reede.But of the selfsame Mayd the love killd thee, feerce Nesse, in deede,When percing swiftly through thy back an arrow made thee bleede.For as Joves issue with his wyfe was onward on his wayIn going to his countryward, enforst he was to stayAt swift Euenus bank, bycause the streame was risen soreAbove his bounds through rage of rayne that fell but late before.Agein so full of whoorlpooles and of gulles the channell was, That scarce a man could any where fynd place of passage. AsNot caring for himself but for his wyfe he there did stand,This Nessus came unto him (who was strong of body andKnew well the foordes), and sayd: Use thou thy strength, O Hercules,In swimming. I will fynd the meanes this Ladie shall with easeBee set uppon the further bank. So Hercules betookeHis wyfe to Nessus. Shee for feare of him and of the brookeLookte pale. Her husband as he had his quiver by his sydeOf arrowes full, and on his backe his heavy Lyons hyde,(For to the further bank he erst his club and bow had cast) Said: Sith I have begonne, this brooke bothe must and shalbee past.He never casteth further doubts, nor seekes the calmest place,But through the roughest of the streame he cuts his way apace.Now as he on the furthersyde was taking up his bow,His heard his wedlocke shreeking out, and did hir calling know: And cryde to Nesse (who went about to deale unfaythfullyIn running with his charge away): Whoa, whither doost thou fly,Thou Royster thou, uppon vaine hope by swiftnesse to escapeMy hands? I say give eare thou Nesse for all thy double shape,And meddle not with that thats myne. Though no regard of mee Might move thee to refrayne from rape, thy father yit might beeA warning, who for offring shame to Juno now dooth feeleContinuall torment in his limbes by turning on a wheele.For all that thou hast horses feete which doo so bolde thee make,Yit shalt thou not escape my hands. I will thee overtake With wound and not with feete. He did according as he spake.For with an arrow as he fled he strake him through the backe,And out before his brist ageine the hooked iron stacke.And when the same was pulled out, the blood amayne ensewdAt both the holes with poyson foule of Lerna Snake embrewd: This blood did Nessus take, and said within himselfe: Well: sithI needes must dye, yet will I not dye unrevendgd. And withThe same he staynd a shirt, and gave it unto Dyanyre,Assuring hir it had the powre to kindle Cupids fyre.A greate whyle after when the deedes of worthy Hercules Were such as filled all the world, and also did appeaseThe hatred of his stepmother, as he uppon a dayWith conquest from Oechalia came, and was abowt to payHis vowes to Jove uppon the Mount of Cenye, tatling fame(Who in reporting things of truth delyghts to sauce the sameWith tales, and of a thing of nowght dooth ever greater growThrough false and newly forged lyes that shee hirself dooth sow)Told Dyanyre that Hercules did cast a liking toA Ladie called Iolee. And Dyanyra (whooWas jealous over Hercules,) gave credit to the same. And when that of a Leman first the tidings to hir came,She being striken to the hart, did fall to teares alone,And in a lamentable wise did make most wofull mone.Anon she said: what meene theis teares thus gushing from myne eyen?My husbands Leman will rejoyce at theis same teares of myne. Nay, sith she is to come, the best it were to shonne delay,And for to woork sum new devyce and practyse whyle I may,Before that in my bed her limbes the filthy strumpet lay.And shall I then complayne? or shall I hold my toong with skill?Shall I returne to Calydon? or shall I tarry still? Or shall I get me out of doores, and let them have their will?What if that I (Meleager) remembring mee to beeThy suster, to attempt sum act notorious did agree?And in a harlots death did shew (that all the world myght see)What greef can cause the womankynd to enterpryse among? And specially when thereunto they forced are by wrong.With wavering thoughts ryght violently her mynd was tossed long.At last shee did preferre before all others, for to sendThe shirt bestayned with the blood of Nessus to the endTo quicken up the quayling love. And so not knowing what She gave, she gave her owne remorse and greef to Lychas thatDid know as little as herself: and wretched woman, sheeDesyrd him gently to her Lord presented it to see.The noble Prince receyving it without mistrust therein,Did weare the poyson of the Snake of Lerna next his skin. To offer incense and to pray to Jove he did begin,And on the Marble Altar he full boawles of wyne did shed,When as the poyson with the heate resolving, largely spredThrough all the limbes of Hercules. As long as ere he could,The stoutnesse of his hart was such, that sygh no whit he would. But when the mischeef grew so great all pacience to surmount,He thrust the altar from him streight, and filled all the mountOf Oeta with his roring out. He went about to teareThe deathfull garment from his backe, but where he pulled, thereHe pulld away the skin: and (which is lothsum to report) It eyther cleaved to his limbes and members in such sortAs that he could not pull it off, or else it tare awayThe flesh, that bare his myghty bones and grisly sinewes lay.The scalding venim boyling in his blood, did make it hisse,As when a gad of steel red hot in water quenched is.

There was no measure of his paine. The frying venim hentHis inwards, and a purple swet from all his body went.His sindged sinewes shrinking crakt, and with a secret strengthThe povson even within his bones the Maree melts at length.And holding up his hands to heaven, he sayd, with hideous reere: O Saturnes daughter, feede thy selfe on my distresses heere.Yea feede, and, cruell wyght, this plage behold thou from aboveAnd glut thy savage hart therewith. Or if thy fo may moveThee unto pitie, (for to thee I am an utter fo)Bereeve mee of my hatefull soule distrest with helplesse wo, And borne to endlesse toyle. For death shall unto mee bee sweete,And for a cruell stepmother is death a gift most meetc.And is it I that did destroy Busiris, who did foyleHis temple floores with straungers blood? Ist I that did dispoyleAntaeus of his mothers help? Ist I that could not bee Abashed at the Spanyard who in one had bodies three?Nor at the trypleheaded shape, O Cerberus, of thee?Are you the hands that by the homes the Bull of Candie drew?Did you king Augies stable clenze whom afterward yee slew?Are you the same by whom the fowles were scaard from Stymphaly? Caught you the Stag in Maydenwood which did not runne but fly?Are you the hands whose puissance receyved for your payThe golden belt of Thermodon? Did you convey awayThe Apples from the Dragon fell that waked nyght and day?Ageinst the force of mee, defence the Centaures could not make, Nor yit the Boare of Arcadie: nor yit the ougly SnakeOf Lerna, who by losse did grow and dooble force still take.What? is it I that did behold the pampyred Jades of ThraceWith Maungers full of flesh of men on which they fed apace?Ist I that downe at syght thereof theyr greazy Maungers threw, And bothe the fatted Jades themselves and eke their mayster slew?The Nemean Lyon by theis armes lyes dead uppon the ground.Theis armes the monstruous Giant Cake by Tyber did confound.Uppon theis shoulders have I borne the weyght of all the skie.Joves cruell wyfe is weerye of commaunding mee. Yit I Unweerie am of dooing still. But now on mee is lyghtAn uncoth plage, which neyther force of hand, nor vertues myght,Nor Arte is able to resist. Like wasting fyre it spreedesAmong myne inwards, and through out on all my body feedes.But all this whyle Eurysthye lives in health. And sum men may Beeleve there bee sum Goddes in deede. Thus much did Hercule say.And wounded over Oeta hygh, he stalking gan to stray,As when a Bull in maymed bulk a deadly dart dooth beare,And that the dooer of the deede is shrunke asyde for feare.Oft syghing myght you him have seene, oft trembling, oft about To teare the garment with his hands from top to toe throughout,And throwing downe the myghtye trees, and chaufing with the hilles,Or casting up his handes to heaven where Jove his father dwelles.Behold as Lychas trembling in a hollow rock did lurk,He spyed him. And as his greef did all in furie woork, He sayd: Art thou, syr Lychas, he that broughtest unto meeThis plagye present? of my death must thou the woorker bee?Hee quaakt and shaakt, and looked pale, and fearfully gan makeExcuse. But as with humbled hands hee kneeling to him spake,The furious Hercule caught him up, and swindging him about His head a halfe a doozen tymes or more, he floong him outInto th'Euboyan sea with force surmounting any sling.He hardened into peble stone as in the ayre he hing.And even as rayne conjeald by wynd is sayd to turne to snowe,And of the snow round rolled up a thicker masse to growe, Which falleth downe in hayle: so men in auncient tyme report,That Lychas beeing swindgd about by violence in that sort,(His blood then beeing drayned out, and having left at allNo moysture,) into peble stone was turned in his fall.Now also in th'Euboyan sea appeeres a hygh short rocke In shape of man ageinst the which the shipmen shun to knocke,As though it could them feele, and they doo call it by the nameOf Lychas still. But thou Joves imp of great renowme and fame,Didst fell the trees of Oeta high, and making of the sameA pyle, didst give to Poeans sonne thy quiver and thy bow, And arrowes which should help agein Troy towne to overthrow.He put to fyre, and as the same was kindling in the pyle,Thy selfe didst spred thy Lyons skin upon the wood the whyle,And leaning with thy head ageinst thy Club, thou laydst thee downeAs cheerfully, as if with flowres and garlonds on thy crowne Thou hadst beene set a banquetting among full cups of wyne.Anon on every syde about those carelesse limbes of thyneThe fyre began to gather strength, and crackling noyse did make,Assayling him whose noble hart for daliance did it take.The Goddes for this defender of the earth were sore afrayd To whom with cheerefull countnance Jove perceyving it thus sayd:This feare of yours is my delyght, and gladly even with allMy hart I doo rejoyce, O Gods, that mortall folk mee callTheir king and father, thinking mee ay myndfull of their weale,And that myne offspring should doo well your selves doo show such zeale. For though that you doo attribute your favor to desert,Considring his most woondrous acts: yit I too for my partAm bound unto you. Nerethelesse, for that I would not haveYour faythfull harts without just cause in fearfull passions wave,I would not have you of the flames in Oeta make account. For as he hath all other things, so shall he them surmount.Save only on that part that he hath taken of his mother,The fyre shall have no power at all. Eternall is the tother,The which he takes of mee, and cannot dye, ne yeeld to fyre.When this is rid of earthly drosse, then will I lift it hygher, And take it unto heaven: and I beleeve this deede of myneWill gladsome bee to all the Gods. If any doo repyne,If any doo repyne, I say, that Hercule should becomeA God, repyne he still for mee, and looke he sowre and glum.But let him know that Hercules deserveth this reward, And that he shall ageinst his will alow it afterward.The Gods assented everychone. And Juno seemd to makeNo evill countnance to the rest, untill hir husband spakeThe last. For then her looke was such as well they might perceyve,Shee did her husbands noting her in evil part conceyve. Whyle Jove was talking with the Gods, as much as fyre could wasteSo much had fyre consumde. And now, O Hercules, thou hasteNo carkesse for to know thee by. That part is quyght bereftWhich of thy mother thou didst take. Alonly now is leftThe likenesse that thou tookst of Jove. And as the Serpent slye In casting of his withered slough, renewes his yeeres thereby,And wexeth lustyer than before, and looketh crisp and bryghtWith scoured scales: so Hercules as soone as that his spryghtHad left his mortall limbes, gan in his better part to thryve,And for to seeme a greater thing than when he was alyve, And with a stately majestie ryght reverend to appeere.His myghty father tooke him up above the cloudy spheere,And in a charyot placed him among the streaming starres.

Huge Atlas felt the weyght thereof. But nothing this disbarresEurysthyes malice. Cruelly he prosecutes the hateUppon the offspring, which he bare ageinst the father late.But yit to make her mone unto and wayle her miserieAnd tell her sonnes great woorkes, which all the world could testifie,Old Alcmen had Dame Iolee. By Hercules last willIn wedlocke and in hartie love shee joyned was to Hill,By whome shee then was big with chyld: when thus Alcmena sayd:The Gods at least bee mercifull and send thee then theyr ayd,And short thy labor, when the fruite the which thou goste withallNow beeing rype enforceth thee wyth fearfull voyce to callUppon Ilithya, president of chyldbirthes, whom the ire Of Juno at my travailing made deaf to my desire.For when the Sun through twyce fyve signes his course had fully run,And that the paynfull day of birth approched of my sonne,My burthen strayned out my wombe, and that that I did beareBecame so greate, that of so huge a masse yee well myght sweareThat Jove was father. Neyther was I able to endureThe travail any lenger tyme. Even now I you assureIn telling it a shuddring cold through all my limbes dooth strike,And partly it renewes my peynes to thinke uppon the like.I beeing in most cruell throwes nyghts seven and dayes eke seven, And tyred with continuall pangs, did lift my hands to heaven,And crying out aloud did call Lucina to myne ayd,To loose the burthen from my wombe. Shee came as I had prayd:But so corrupted long before by Juno my most fo,That for to martir mee to death with peyne she purposde tho. For when shee heard my piteous plaints and gronings, downe shee sateOn yon same altar which you see there standing at my gate.Upon her left knee shee had pitcht her right ham, and besydeShee stayd the birth with fingars one within another tydeIn lattiswyse. And secretly she whisperde witching spells Which hindred my deliverance more than all her dooings ells.I labord still: and forst by payne and torments of my Fitts,I rayld on Jove (although in vayne) as one besyde her witts.And av I wished for to dye. The woords that I did speake,Were such as even the hardest stones of very flint myght breake. The wyves of Thebee beeing there, for sauf deliverance praydAnd giving cheerfull woords, did bid I should not bee dismayd.Among the other women there that to my labor came,There was an honest yeomans wyfe, Galantis was her name.Her heare was yellow as the gold, she was a jolly Dame. And stoutly served mee, and I did love her for the same.This wyfe (I know not how) did smell some packing gone aboutOn Junos part. And as she oft was passing in and out,Shee spyde Lucina set uppon the altar holding fastHer armes togither on her knees, and with her fingars cast Within ech other on a knot, and sayd unto her thus:I pray you who so ere you bee, rejoyce you now with us,My Lady Alcmen hath her wish, and sauf is brought abed.Lucina leaped up amazde at that that shee had sed,And let her hands asunder slip. And I immediatly With loosening of the knot, had sauf deliverance by and by.They say that in deceyving Dame Lucina Galant laught.And therfore by the yellow locks the Goddesse wroth hir caught,And dragged her. And as she would have risen from the ground,She kept her downe, and into legges her armes shee did confound. Her former stoutnesse still remaynes: her backe dooth keepe the hewThat erst was in her heare: her shape is only altered new.And for with lying mouth shee helpt a woman laboring, sheeDooth kindle also at her mouth. And now she haunteth freeOur houses as shee did before, a Weasle as wee see.

With that shee syghes to think uppon her servants hap, and thenHer daughtrinlaw immediatly replied thus agen:But mother, shee whose altred shape dooth move your hart so sore,Was neyther kith nor kin to you. What will you say therefore,If of myne owne deere suster I the woondrous fortune show, Although my sorrow and the teares that from myne eyes doo flow,Doo hinder mee, and stop my speeche? Her mother (you must knowMy father by another wyfe had mee) bare never moBut this same Ladie Dryopee, the fayrest Ladye thoIn all the land of Oechalye. Whom beeing then no mayd (For why the God of Delos and of Delphos had her frayd)Andraemon taketh to hys wyfe, and thinkes him well apayd.There is a certaine leaning Lake whose bowing banks doo showA likenesse of the salt sea shore. Uppon the brim doo growAll round about it Mirtletrees. My suster thither goes Unwares what was her destinie, and (which you may supposeWas more to bee disdeyned at) the cause of comming thereWas to the fayries of the Lake fresh garlonds for to beare.And in her armes a babye her sweete burthen shee did hold.Who sucking on her brest was yit not full a twelvemoonth old. Not farre from this same pond did grow a Lote tree florisht gayWith purple flowres and beries sweete, and leaves as greene as Bay.Of theis same flowres to please her boy my suster gathered sum,And I had thought to doo so too, for I was thither cum.I saw how from the slivered flowres red drops of blood did fall, And how that shuddring horribly the braunches quaakt withall.You must perceyve that (as too late the Countryfolk declare)A Nymph cald Lotos flying from fowle Pryaps filthy ware,Was turned into this same tree reserving still her name.My suster did not know so much, who when shee backward came Afrayd at that that shee had seene, and having sadly praydThe Nymphes of pardon, to have gone her way agen assayd:Her feete were fastned downe with rootes. Shee stryved all she myghtTo plucke them up, but they so sure within the earth were pyght,That nothing save her upper partes shee could that present move. A tender barke growes from beneath up leysurly above,And softly overspreddes her loynes, which when shee saw, shee wentAbout to teare her heare, and full of leaves her hand shee hent.Her head was overgrowen with leaves. And little Amphise (soHad Eurytus his Graundsyre naamd her sonne not long ago) Did feele his mothers dugges wex hard. And as he still them drewIn sucking, not a whit of milke nor moysture did ensew.I standing by thee did behold thy cruell chaunce: but noughtI could releeve thee, suster myne. Yit to my powre I wroughtTo stay the growing of thy trunk and of thy braunches by Embracing thee. Yea I protest I would ryght willinglyHave in the selfesame barke with thee bene closed up. Behold,Her husband, good Andraemon, and her wretched father, oldSir Eurytus came thither and enquyrd for Dryopee.And as they askt for Dryopee, I shewd them Lote the tree. They kist the wood which yit was warme, and falling downe bylow,Did hug the rootes of that their tree. My suster now could showNo part which was not wood except her face. A deawe of tearesDid stand uppon the wretched leaves late formed of her heares.And whyle she might, and whyle her mouth did give her way to speake, With such complaynt as this, her mynd shee last or all did breake:If credit may bee given to such as are in wretchednesse,I sweare by God I never yit deserved this distresse.I suffer peyne without desert. My lyfe hath guiltlesse beene.And if I lye, I would theis boughes of mine which now are greene, Myght withered bee, and I heawen downe and burned in the fyre.This infant from his mothers wombe remove you I desyre:And put him forth to nurce, and cause him underneath my treeOft tymes to sucke, and oftentymes to play. And when that heeIs able for to speake I pray you let him greete mee heere, And sadly say: in this same trunk is hid my mother deere.But lerne him for to shun all ponds and pulling flowres from trees,And let him in his heart beleeve that all the shrubs he sees,Are bodyes of the Goddesses. Adew deere husband now,Adew deere father, and adew deere suster. And in yow If any love of mee remayne, defend my boughes I prayFrom wound of cutting hooke and ax, and bite of beast for ay.And for I cannot stoope to you, rayse you yourselves to mee,And come and kisse mee whyle I may yit toucht and kissed bee.And lift mee up my little boy. I can no lenger talke, ^For now about my lillye necke as if it were a stalkeThe tender rynd beginnes to creepe, and overgrowes my top.Remove your fingars from my face. The spreading barke dooth stopMy dying eyes without your help. Shee had no sooner leftHer talking, but her lyfe therewith togither was bereft. But yit a goodwhyle after that her native shape did fade,Her newmade boughes continewed warme. Now whyle that Iole madeReport of this same woondrous tale, and whyle Alcmena (whoDid weepe) was drying up the teares of Iole weeping too,By putting to her thomb: there hapt a sodeine thing so straunge, That unto mirth from heavinesse theyr harts it streight did chaunge.For at the doore in manner even a very boy as thenWith short soft Downe about his chin, revoked backe agenTo youthfull yeares, stood Iolay with countnance smooth and trim.Dame Hebee, Junos daughter, had bestowde this gift on him, Entreated at his earnest sute. Whom mynding fully thereThe giving of like gift ageine to any to forsweare,Dame Themis would not suffer. For (quoth shee) this present howreIs cruell warre in Thebee towne, and none but Jove hath powreTo vanquish stately Canapey. The brothers shall alike Wound eyther other. And alyve a Prophet shall go seekeHis owne quicke ghoste among the dead, the earth him swallowing in.The sonne by taking vengeance for his fathers death shall winThe name of kynd and wicked man, in one and selfsame cace.And flayght with mischeefes, from his wits and from his native place The furies and his mothers ghoste shall restlessely him chace,Untill his wyfe demaund of him the fatall gold for meede,And that his cousin Phegies swoord doo make his sydes to bleede.Then shall the fayre Callirrhoee, Achelous daughter, prayThe myghty Jove in humble wyse to graunt her children may Retyre ageine to youthfull yeeres, and that he will not seeThe death of him that did revenge unvenged for to bee.Jove moved at her sute shall cause his daughtrinlaw to giveLike gift, and backe from age to youth Callirrhoes children drive.

When Themis through foresyght had spoke theis woords of prophesie, The Gods began among themselves vayne talke to multiplie,They mooyld why others myght not give like gift as well as shee.First Pallants daughter grudged that her husband old should bee.The gentle Ceres murmurde that her Iasions heare was hore.And Vulcane would have calld ageine the yeeres long spent before By Ericthonius. And the nyce Dame Venus having careOf tyme to come, the making yong of old Anchises sware.So every God had one to whom he speciall favor bare.And through this partiall love of theyrs seditiously increastA hurlyburly, till the time that Jove among them preast, And sayd: So smally doo you stand in awe of mee this howre,As thus too rage? Thinkes any of you himself to have such powre,As for to alter destinye? I tell you IolayRecovered hath by destinye his yeeres erst past away,Callirrhoes children must returne to youth by destiny, And not by force of armes, or sute susteynd ambitiously.And to th'entent with meelder myndes yee may this matter beare,Even I myself by destinyes am rulde. Which if I wereOf power to alter, thinke you that our Aeacus should stoopeBy reason of his feeble age? or Radamanth should droope? Or Minos, who by reason of his age is now disdeynd,And lives not in so sure a state as heretofore he reygnd?The woords of Jove so movd the Gods that none of them complaynd,Sith Radamanth and Aeacus were both with age constreynd:And Minos also: who (as long as lusty youth did last,) Did even with terror of his name make myghty Realmes agast.But then was Minos weakened sore, and greatly stood in feareOf Milet, one of Deyons race: who proudly did him beareUppon his father Phoebus and the stoutnesse of his youth.And though he feard he would rebell: yit durst he not his mouth Once open for to banish him his Realme: untill at lastDeparting of his owne accord, Miletus swiftly pastThe Gotesea and did build a towne uppon the Asian ground,Which still reteynes the name of him that first the same did found.And there the daughter of the brooke Maeander which dooth go So often backward, Cyane, a Nymph of body soExceeding comly as the lyke was seldome heard of, asShee by her fathers wynding bankes for pleasure walking was,Was knowen by Milet: unto whom a payre of twinnes shee brought,And of the twinnes the names were Caune and Byblis. Byblis ought To bee a mirror unto Maydes in lawfull wyse to love.This Byblis cast a mynd to Caune, but not as did behoveA suster to her brotherward. When first of all the fyreDid kindle, shee perceyvd it not. Shee thought in her desyreOf kissing him so oftentymes no sin, ne yit no harme In cleeping him about the necke so often with her arme.The glittering glosse of godlynesse beguyld her long. Her loveBegan from evill unto woorse by little too remove.Shee commes to see her brother deckt in brave and trim attyre,And for to seeme exceeding fayre it was her whole desyre. And if that any fayrer were in all the flocke than shee,It spyghts her. In what case she was as yit shee did not see.Her heate exceeded not so farre as for to vow: and yitShee suffred in her troubled brist full many a burning fit.Now calleth shee him mayster, now shee utter hateth all The names of kin. Shee rather had he should her Byblis callThan suster. Yit no filthy hope shee durst permit to creepeWithin her mynd awake. But as shee lay in quiet sleepe,Shee oft behild her love: and oft she thought her brother cameAnd lay with her, and (though asleepe) shee blushed at the same. When sleepe was gone, she long lay dumb still musing on the syght,And said with wavering mynd: Now wo is mee, most wretched wyght.What meenes the image of this dreame that I have seene this nyght?I would not wish it should bee trew. Why dreamed I then so?Sure hee is fayre although hee should bee judged by his fo. He likes mee well, and were he not my brother, I myght setMy love on him, and he were mee ryght woorthy for to get,But unto this same match the name of kinred is a let.Well, so that I awake doo still mee undefylde keepe,Let come as often as they will such dreamings in my sleepe. In sleepe there is no witnesse by. In sleepe yit may I takeAs greate a pleasure (in a sort) as if I were awake.Oh Venus and thy tender sonne, Sir Cupid, what delyght,How present feeling of your sport hath touched mee this nyght.How lay I as it were resolvd both maree, flesh, and bone. How gladdes it mee to thinke thereon. Alas too soone was goneThat pleasure, and too hastye and despyghtfull was the nyghtIn breaking of my joyes. O Lord, if name of kinred myghtBetweene us two removed bee, how well it would agree,O Caune, that of thy father I the daughtrinlaw should bee. How fitly myght my father have a sonneinlaw of thee.Would God that all save auncesters were common to us twayne.I would thou were of nobler stocke than I. I cannot sayne,O perle of beautie, what shee is whom thou shalt make a mother.Alas how ill befalles it mee that I could have none other Than those same parents which are thyne. So only still my brotherAnd not my husband mayst thou bee. The thing that hurts us botheIs one, and that betweene us ay inseparably gothe.What meene my dreames then? what effect have dreames? and may there beeEffect in dreames? The Gods are farre in better case than wee. For why? the Gods have matched with theyr susters as wee see.So Saturne did alie with Ops, the neerest of his blood.So Tethys with Oceanus: So Jove did think it goodTo take his suster Juno to his wyfe. What then? the GoddesHave lawes and charters by themselves. And sith there is such oddes Betweene the state of us and them, why should I sample take,Our worldly matters equall with the heavenly things to make?This wicked love shall eyther from my hart be driven away,Or if it can not bee expulst, God graunt I perish may,And that my brother kisse me, layd on Herce to go to grave. But my desyre the full consent of both of us dooth crave.Admit the matter liketh me. He will for sin it take.But yit the sonnes of Aeolus no scrupulousnesse did makeIn going to theyr susters beds. And how come I to knowThe feates of them? To what intent theis samples doo I show?Ah whither am I headlong driven? avaunt foule filthy fyre:And let mee not in otherwyse than susterlyke desyreMy brothers love. Yit if that he were first in love with mee,His fondnesse to inclyne unto perchaunce I could agree.Shall I therefore who would not have rejected him if hee Had sude to mee, go sue to him? and canst thou speake in deede?And canst thou utter forth thy mynd? and tell him of thy neede?My love will make mee speake. I can. Or if that shame doo stayMy toong, a sealed letter shall my secret love bewray.