But what? (fond man) he laughs her skil to scorne, And iesteth at her diuination: Ah to what vnbeliefe are Princes borne? (The onely ouer-throw of many a Nation:) And so it did befall this lucklesse Prince, Whom all the world hath much lamented since. Insteede of teares, he smileth at her tale: Insteede of griefe, he makes great shew of gladnes: But after blisse, there euer followes bale; And after mirth, there alwaies commeth sadnes: But gladnesse, blisse, and mirth had so possest him, That sadnes, bale, and griefe could not molest him. Oh cruell _Parcæ_ (quoth _Cassandra_ then) Why are you _Parcæ_, yet not mou'd with praier? Oh small security of mortall men, That liue on earth, and breathe this vitall aire: When we laugh most, then are we next to sorrow; The Birds feede vs to-day, we them to-morrow. But if the first did little moue his minde, Her later speeches lesse with him preuailed; Who beinge wholy to selfe-will inclinde, Deemes her weake braine with lunacy assailed: And still the more shee councels him to stay, The more he striueth to make haste away. How on the Seas he scap'd stormes, rocks and sholes, (Seas that enuide the conquest he had wone, Gaping like hell to swallow Greekish soules,) I heere omit; onely suppose it done: His storm-tyrde Barke safely brings him to shore, His whole Fleete els, or suncke or lost before. Lift vp thy head, thou ashie-cyndred _Troy_, See the commaunder of thy traitor foes, That made thy last nights woe, his first daies ioie, Now gins his night of ioy and daie of woes: His fall be thy delight, thine was his pride: As he thee then, so now thou him deride. He and _Cassandra_ now are set on shore, Which he salutes with ioy, she greetes with teares, Currors are sent that poast to Court before, Whose tidings fill th'adultrous Queene with feares, Who with _Ægistus_ in a lust-staind bed, Her selfe, her King, her State dishonored. She wakes the lecher with a loud-strain'd shrike, Loue-toies they leaue, now doth lament begin: He flie (quoth he) but she doth that mislike, Guilt vnto guilt, and sinne she ads to sinne: Shee meanes to kill (immodest loue to couer) A kingly husband, for a caytiue louer. The peoples ioies, conceiued at his returne, Their thronging multitudes: their gladsome cries, Their gleeful hymnes, whiles piles of incense burne: Their publique shewes, kept at solemnities: We passe: and tell how King and Queene did meet, Where he with zeale, she him with guile did greet.