Then 'gan ARTESIA to play upon her lute, Whose voice sang sweetly, now a mourning ditty; LOVE her admired, though he that loved were mute, CUPID himself feared he should sue for pity. O wondrous virtue! Words spoken are but wind; But sung to Prick Song, they are joys divine! I heard her sing, but still methought I dreamed. I heard her play, but I methought did sleep. The Day and Night, till now, were never weaned. VENUS and DIAN ravished, both did weep. They which each hated, now agreed to say This was the goddess both of night and day. My heart and ears, so ravished with the voice I still forgot, what still I heard her sing: The tune, surely, of Sonnets, this was all the choice. Poets do keep it as a charming thing. What think you of the joys that DAIPHANTUS had, When for such music, I would still be mad! The birds came chirping to the windows round, And so stood still, as if they ravished were; Beasts forth the forest came, brought with the sound; The lion laid him down as if in fear. The fishes in fresh rivers swam to shore; Yea, had not Nature stayed them, had done more. This was a sight, whose eyes had never seen; This was a voice, such music ne'er was heard; This Paradise was it, where who had been, Might well have thought of hell, and not afeard. Sure, hell itself was heaven, in this sphere, Madmen, wild beasts, and all here tamèd were. Like as a king, his chair of state ascendeth, Being newly made a god upon the earth, In state amounts, till step by step he endeth, Thinks it to heaven a true-ascending birth. So hies DAIPHANTUS, on his legs and feet, As if DAIPHANTUS now some god should meet. He looks upon himself, not without wonder. He wonders at himself, what he might be. He laughs unto himself: thinks he's aslumber. He weeps unto himself, himself to see. And sure to hear and see what he had done Might make him swear but now the world begun. Fully revived, at last ARTESIA ceased, When birds and beasts so hideous noise did make, That almost all turned fury, fear was the least; Yea, such a fear as forced them cry and quake; Till that DAIPHANTUS, more of reason had Than they which moaned him, lately being mad. He with more joy than words could well declare, And with more words than his new tongue could tell, Did strive to speak (such was his love and care Thus to be thankful); but yet knew not well Whether his tongue (not tuned unto his heart), Or modest silence, would best act his part? But speak he will! Then give attentive ear To hear him tell a woful lover's story! His hands and eyes to heaven up did he rear, Grief taught him speech, though he to speak were sorry. But whatsoever be a Lover's Passion, DAIPHANTUS speaks his, in a mourning fashion.