Some other times when as he waies her beautie, her _Venus_-stayning face so wondrous faire, Hee then doth thinke to waile tis but his dutie sith caus'd by her that is without compaire, And in this moode vnto high _Ioue_ hee prayes, And praying so, hee thus vnto him sayes. Great Gouernour of (wheele-resembling) Heauen, commaund thy vnder Princes to mayntaine, Those heau[=e]ly parts which to my loue th'aue giuen, o let her ne're feele death, or deaths fell paine. And first vpon thy Sister lay thy mace, Bid her maintayne my Loues maiestick grace. Inioyne the strange-borne mother-lesse _Mynerua_, and her to whom the fomie Sea was Mother, Still to vphold their giftes in my _Gyneura_: let wit and beautie lyue vnited with her; With sweete mouth'd _Pytho_ I may not suspence, Great Goddesse; still increase her eloquence. Thou musicall _Apollo_ gau'st her hand, and thou her feete (great Sun-Gods deerest loue) To such your rare-knowne gyfts all gracious stand; and now at last this doe I craue great _Ioue_, That when they dye (perhaps they dye aboue) Thou wilt bequeath these gyfts vnto my Loue. On euery neighbour Tree, on euery stone (hee durst not far range from his secure Caue) VVould he cut out the cause of all his moane, and curiouslie with greatest skill ingraue: There needed no _Leontius_, his Art, Griefe carueth deepest, if it come from th'hart. VVhen some stone would not impression take hee straight compares it to his Mistris hart, But stay, (quoth he) my working teares shall make thee penetrable with the least skil'd art. Oh had my teares such force to pierce her mind, These sorrowes I should loose, and new ioyes find. Thou euer-memorable stone (quoth hee) tell those whom fate or fortune heere shall lead, How deerely I haue lou'd the cruel'st shee that euer Nature or the world hath bred. Tell them her hate, and her disdaine was causelesse, Oh, leaue not out to tell how I was guiltlesse. Whereat, the very stone would seeme to weepe, whose wrinkled face wold be besmeard with tears O man what ere thou be, thy sorrowes keepe vnto thy selfe, quoth hee; ile heare no cares. Tell them that care not, tell _Gyneura_ of thee, We stones are ruthfull, & thy plaints haue pierc'd mee. VVith this, hee seekes a russet-coated Tree, & straight disclothes him of his long-worne weed And whilest hee thus disroabes him busilie, hee felt his halfe-dead hart a fresh to bleed. Greeuing that hee should vse such crueltie, To turne him naked to his foe, windes furie. But now vncas'ed, hee gins to carue his cares, his passions, his constant-lyuing Loue, When (loe) there gushes out cleere sap like teares which to get forth from pryson mainly stroue, Since pitty dwells (quoth hee) in trees and stone, Them will I loue; _Gyneura_, thou hast none.