If any orped witch of _Thessalie_, haue powre vpon thee, gentle-girle relate: Or if thou haue prophan'd some dietie, wee shall some misticke fires propogate. To attone with them or if with barbarous hand devoy'd of thy first chastitie thou stand; Vnfold to me; griefes vttered finde redresse: fires vndescern'd burn the more pittilesse. Or if the sunne of bewtie shoote at thee his fiery shafts, O tell me and the rather, Because thy confidence shal answer'd be, With this my childe Ile hide it from thy father As doth a dying man hold fast what so he grasps so she her feruent armes bout her Nurse claspes and nuzzels once more twixt those dugs her face whilst ore those Ilands flow salt teares apace. That word of father was like _Persey's_ shield, to make the poore maid stone, now nurse doth threat Vnlesse she will in gentle manner yeeld, she would to morrow shew how in a heat She would haue made away her desperate life, and she must tell the man that forc'd that strife within her brest through feare she thus did frame and made her toung the trumpet of her shame. Her voyce halfe stopt with sighes (O fatal voice) pronounc'd these words, yet did the acc[=e]ts faile: How blessed is my mother in her choise, How fully she with nature did preuaile. This said, her blushing face sinkes in her shroud like _Cinthia_ muffel'd in an enuious cloud. When loe, the dying taper in his toombe, gaue darknes to it selfe and to the roome. Now had she time to waile, and well she might, Guiltie of sorrow, there might you haue seene: As glow wormes adde a tincture to the night, Glimmering in pallid fire, vppon some greene, mixt with the dew, so did her eyes appeare, Each goulden glance ioyn'd with a dewy teare, oft shut her eyes, like starres that portend ill, with bloody deluge, they their orbes did fill. The Nurse amated with the latter wordes, whose aged haires stood vp like siluer wire: Knew speech was vaine, where will the scope affords & whispering softly, saies childe thy desire Ile put into thy armes, sleepe, seize thy head, Tis now nights no one, all but the stars seem dead, Our vanities like fire-works will ascend, Vntil they breake, vncertaine where to end. Neuer did mortall with a vicious thought, wish to bring vices Embrion to aforme: But still the prince of darknesse to them brought occasions fore-locke, which they off have torne. Sin like a Cedar shadowes all our good: Whilst vertues bounded like a narrow flood. As see now, how the occasion of misfortune; Mirrha's much abus'd-mother did importune.