Ensignes of mirth, and iollity, as these; Neuer at Nuptials vsed be againe, But from the Church the new Bride entertaine With weeping _Nenias_, euer and among, As at departings be sad _Requiems_ song. 40 _Lucina_ by th' olde Poets that wert sayd, Women in Childe-birth euermore to ayde, Because thine Altars, long haue layne neglected: Nor as they should, thy holy fiers reflected Vpon thy Temples, therefore thou doest flye, And wilt not helpe them in necessitie. Thinking vpon thee, I doe often muse, Whether for thy deare sake I should accuse Nature or Fortune, Fortune then I blame, And doe impute it as her greatest shame, 50 To hast thy timelesse end, and soone agen I vexe at Nature, nay I curse her then, That at the time of need she was no stronger, That we by her might haue enioy'd thee longer. But whilst of these I with my selfe debate, I call to minde how flinty-hearted Fate Seaseth the olde, the young, the faire, the foule, No thing on earth can Destinie controule: But yet that Fate which hath of life bereft thee, Still to eternall memory hath left thee, 60 Which thou enioy'st by the deserued breath, That many a great one hath not after death. NIMPHIDIA THE COVRT OF FAYRIE Olde CHAVCER doth of _Topas_ tell, Mad RABLAIS of Pantagruell, A latter third of _Dowsabell_, With such poore trifles playing: Others the like haue laboured at Some of this thing, and some of that, And many of they know not what, But that they must be saying. Another sort there bee, that will Be talking of the Fayries still, 10 Nor neuer can they have their fill, As they were wedded to them; No Tales of them their thirst can slake, So much delight therein they take, And some strange thing they fame would make, Knew they the way to doe them. Then since no Muse hath bin so bold, Or of the Later, or the ould, Those Eluish secrets to vnfold, Which lye from others reading, 20 My actiue Muse to light shall bring, The court of that proud Fayry King, And tell there, of the Reuelling, _Ioue_ prosper my proceeding. And thou NIMPHIDIA gentle F_ay_, Which meeting me vpon the way, These secrets didst to me bewray, Which now I am in telling: My pretty light fantastick mayde, I here inuoke thee to my ayde, 30 That I may speake what thou hast sayd, In numbers smoothly swelling.