Whom the Indians in the East, Phosphor call, and in West, Hight Vesper. Courses even with the sun Doth her mighty brother run For splendour. —alluding to the boast of the Spaniards that the sun never sets on their King’s dominions. The Marchioness of Buckingham was next addressed, in these terms:— But, lady, either I am tipsy, Or you are in love with a gipsy; Blush not, Dame Kate, For early or late, I do assure you it will be your fate, Nor need you once be ashamed of it, madam, He’s as handsome a man as e’er was Adam. The fortunes of Cecily, Countess of Rutland, the stepmother of the Marchioness, of the Countess of Exeter, and of the Countess of Buckingham, were then told. In the verses addressed to the last mentioned, the beauty and attractions of the lady were thus alluded to:— Your pardon, lady, here you stand, If some should judge you by your hand, The greatest felon in the land, Detected. I cannot tell you by what arts, But you have stol’n so many hearts, As they would make you at all parts Suspected. The Lady Purbeck was the next theme:— Help me, woman, here’s a book, Where I would for ever look; Never yet did Gipsy trace Such true lines in hands or face. Venus here doth Saturn move, That you should be Queen of Love, Only Cupid’s not content; For, though you do the theft disguise, You have robb’d him of his eyes. The fair, frail being, whose loveliness was thus panegyrized, fled from her husband’s house three years afterwards, never to return. “She was,” says the historian Wilson, “a lady of transcending beauty.” Ben Jonson’s lines on her face:— Though your either cheek discloses Mingled baths of milk and roses; Though your lips be banks of blisses, Where he plants and gathers kisses— were not, therefore, greatly exaggerated. Her mother—the mother who had bartered her at the altar—was next flattered:— Mistress of a fairer table, Hath no history or fable; Others’ fortunes may be shewn, You are builder of your own, And whatever Heaven hath gi’n you, You preserve the state still in you.