in the belly, and that stagge in his belly hath a
kidde, and that kidde is stufte full of birdes. Some courtiers to wearie
out time woulde tell vs further tales of _Cornelius Agrippa_, and how
when sir _Thomas Moore_ our countrieman was there, hee shewed him the
whole destruction of Troy in a dreame. How the Lorde _Cromwell_ being
the kings Embassador there, in lyke case, in a perspectiue glasse he set
before his eyes, King Henrie the eight with all his Lordes hunting in
his forrest at Windsore, and when he came into his studie, and was verie
vrgent to be partaker of some rare experiment, that he might report when
he came into England, he wilde him amongst two thousande great bookes to
take downe which he list, and begin to reade one line in anie place, and
without booke he woulde rehearse twentie leaues following. _Cromwell_
dyd so, and in manye bookes tride him, when in euerie thing hee exceeded
his promise and conquered his expectation. To _Charles_ the fifte
then Emperour, they reported how he shewed the nine worthies, _Dauid,
Salomon, Gedeon_, and the rest, in that similitude and lykenesse that
they liued vpon earth. My master and I hauing by the high waie side
gotten some reasonable familiarities with him, vpon this accesse of
myracles imputed to him, resolued to request him something in our owne
behalfes. I because I was his suborned Lorde and master, desired him to
see the liuely image of _Geraldine_ his loue in the glasse, and what at
that instant she did, and with whome shee was talking. Hee shewed her
vs without more adoe, sicke weeping on her bedde, and resolued all into
deuoute religion for the absence of her Lorde. At the sight thereof hee
coulde in no wise refrayne, though hee had tooke vppon him the condition
of a seruant, but hee must forthwith frame this extemporall Dittie.

_All soule, no earthly fleshy why dost thou fade,
All gold, no worthlesse drosse, why lookst thou pale,
Sicknesse how darst thou one so faire inuadey
Too base infirmitie to worke her bale,
Heauen be distemperd since she grieuedpines,
Neuer be drie these my sadplaintiue lines.

Pearch thou my spirit on her siluer breasts,
And with theirpaine redoubled musike beatings,
Let them tosse thee to world where all toile rests,
Where blisse is subiect to nofeares defeatings,
Her praise I tune whose tongue doth tune the sphears,
And gets new muses in her hearers eares.

Star