Sacred _Pymplaeides_ endip my quill within the holy waters of your spring, Infuze into my braine some of your skill, that ioyfully of these I now may sing: These Louers now twixt whom late dwelt annoy, Swymming in seas of ouer-whelming ioy. But, pardon mee you Dames of Helycon, for thus inuoking your diuinest ayde, Which was by me (vnworthy) call'd vpon, at your rare knowledge I am much dismaide; My barren-witted braines are all too base, To be your sacred learnings resting place. Thus, of themselues, in pleasures extasie, these Louers now embrace them in theyr armes, Speechlesse they are, eye counterfixt on eye, like two that are coniur'd by magique charmes. So close their armes were twin'd, so neer they came As if both man and woman were one frame. In th'end, (as doth a Current lately stayd, rush mainly forth his long-imprisoned flood) So brake out words; and thus _Dyego_ sayd, what my _Gyneura_? O my harts chiefe good, Ist possible that thou thy selfe should'st daigne In seeing me to take so wondrous paine. Oh, speake not of my paine (my deerest loue) all paine is pleasure that I take for thee, Thou that so loyall and so true doost proue, might scorne mee now, so credulous to be: Then sweet _Diego_, let vs now returne, And banish all things that might make vs mourne. Twere infinite to tell of their great gladnes, theyr amorous greetings, & their soules delight, _Diego_ now had exil'd griefe and sadnes, rauisht with ioy whilst he enioyde her sight. Let it suffise, they homeward now retire, Which suddaine chance both men & maids admire. _Gyneura_ now delights but in his presence, shee cannot once endure him from her sight, His loue-ful face is now her soules sole essence, and on his face shee dotes both day and night. She nere did once disdaine him halfe so much, As now she honors him, loues force is such. _Diego_ now wrapt in a world of pleasure, imparadiz'd in hauing his desire, Floting in Seas of ioy aboue all measure, sought means to mittigate loues burning fire, VVho walking with his loue alone one day, Discharg'd his minde, and thus began to say. O faire _Gyneura_, how long wil't be ere safron-robed _Hymen_ doe vnite vs? My soule doth long that happy howre to see. O let the angry Fates no longer spight vs, Lingring delays will teare my greeued hart, Let me no longer feele so painefull smart. _Gyneura_, which desir'd it as her life, tells him that paine shall shortly haue a cure, Shortly quoth she, Ile be thy married wife, ty'de in those chaynes which euer wil endure, Be patient then, and thou shalt plainly see, In working it, how forward I will be.