O leaue to leape for ioy, thou prettie childe, to Heare of Cyniras, or ile leaue rather: To speake of him, whose bed I haue defilde, & made him proue thy Grandsire & thy Father Was I predestin'd to select no other, But fated for the sister and the Mother, of thee my babe, heauen here hath beene sinister the childe shall call his grandsire, son his mother sister. Oft doe two Roses grow out from one stem, and one of them is full blowne fore the other, So fares it now with thee my virgin iem, whome nature would call sonne but shame saies brother Shall I not blush when thou art ripe, to gather The circumstances of who was thy Father, yes sure I shall, yet shame forgets all shame, Ile charge thy father of a heauenly name. But oh, I feare me least some Prodegie, the heauens agree, that I to light should bring; to fright ee'n the yron age, that chastitie might take example by my suffering. That I a monster-mother should be made, If soe, O ouer equall Gods, let _Mirrha_ fade into some shape, worthy your high deuice, Pitty to me, would make Ioue seeme vnwise. Alter O Gods, death that is due to birth, nor let the dead repine, that I should see Eliziums blest shades, nor the men of earth annoided be with my impuritie, Let them enioy the fieldes, and learned Songes, Of hye brow'd Orpheus, let the vnflesht thronges that haue deseru'd this, and much more be glad, my starres, my double life, and fate, are sad. You wearyed race of Danans vnblest girles, In vaine leaue off your vnwomb'd tubs to fill, & with your teares that staynd ye Indyan pearles, Weepe out for Mirrha, and ere night you will at my sad story orebrim with your teares, Your whirle-poole vessells, which so many yeres return'd no interest, if you well deplore, you'le drowne in teares, or labour so no more. C[=o]clude my fate, quicke you eternall counsell, or else I feare the nere-erturned dead Clad in the fearefull shapes of night and hell, will rife before the general day be spred; and hurrie me in flesh to Acheron, To taste hels torture both in soule and bone: Then blast me thunderer in righteous ire, and I like _Semele_ wil meete thy fire. The Gods to her last wish was tractable. her tongue percullist twice was as she spake: aire was her voice, and Mirrha now not able, to thanke the Gods, her ioynts in sunder brake. Leaues were her locks, of golden haire bereau'd, her armes long boughes, deem & be not deceiu'd tree gan she be, yet twixt her thing so staid, you could not say she was or tree or maide.