Euen as the racket takes the balls rebound; So doth _Good-fortune_ catch _Ill-fortunes_ proofe, Saying, she wil her in herselfe confound, Making her darts, Agents for her behoofe; Bow but thine eies (quoth she) whence ha'ts abound, And I will show thee vnder heauens roofe Th' vnconquered man whom no mischance importunes. Crown of my kingdom, deaths man to misfortune. At this, the casments of the skye broke ope, Discouering all what's girdled in her frame, Whilst _Happy-fortune_ through her eyes large scope Like a Cosmographer comments on the same; Three parts with praise she past and future hope, Then to the fourth, the Westerne world she came, And there, with her eyes festrawe paints a storie, Stranger than strange, more glorified than glorie. See (sayd _Faire-fortune_, to her soule shapt _Foe_) How on the scourge that beates against the Ile Of _Flores_, whence they curst oblations growe, A winde-taught capring ship which ayre beguiles, (Making poore _Cephalus_ for-lorne with woe, Curse arte, which made arte framed saile such smiles) Richlie imbrodred with the Iems of warre, In thy dispight commaunds a lucky starrye. In that faire vessel liues my garlands flower. _Grinuile_, my harts immortall arterie; Of him thy deitie had neuer power, Nor hath hee had of griefe one simpathie; Successe attends him, all good hap doth shower A golden raine of perpetuitie Into his bossome, whete mine Empire stands, Murdring the Agents of thy blacke commands. Say, and say true, (for what but thou wilt say,) That euer _Grinuils_ fortunes came before thee, Of euer prostrate at thine Altars lay, Or with one wreath of Cipresse did adore thee? Proue one blacke storme in all his Sommers day, Whose threatening clouds compeld him to implore thee. Then wil I staine my milkwhite vaile with weeping, And as thine handmaide dye in sorrowes keeping. As wounds the lightning, yet preserues the skinne, So did these words split _Lucklesse-fortunes_ hart, Her smiling _Superficies_, lockt within A deepe exulcerated festring smart; Heere shee perceiu'd her first disgrace begin, And wordlesse from the heauens takes her depart. Yet as she flewe her wings in flying cri'd On _Grinuile_ shall my fame and power be tride. At her departure all the heauens were glad. Triumphing in _Ill-fortunes_ banishment, _Apollo_ set new _Anthems_ as _Ioue_ bad, Which spheare tunes made more then most excellent; No light in heauen but with new fier was clad, Making next _Ioue, Good-fortune_ president, Enrowling in the Bookes of destenie, This memorable famous victorie. Only the _Fat's_ su'd for her backe repeale, (For they _Ill-fortune_ lou'd exceeding well) Many her deedes and Tropheis they reueale, And all her liues blacke legend, weeping tell; Yet all they speake, cannot in heauen preuaile, Which seene, in spight they follow her to hell, And there inhoused with their mother _Night_, All foure deuise, how heauen and earth to spight.