the sable Curtaines of the East
Proclaim'd the Sunnes approach vnto the west;
Or _Tytan_, Lordly Ruler of the morne,
Had in his Chariot, left the night forlorne;
Or sounded sleepe to them, with whom (men say)
It's darksome night when we enioy the day:
He brac'd his Hounds, and striding o'er his Steed,
Hope with a conquest did the youngster feed:
VVhich done, he hyes him to a mighty wood,
That ioyn'd where _Laura's_ Fathers Pallace stood.
Thither being come, a Bore he rais'd, whose pace
Did make our hunts-man loose his Hounds in chase:
Ranging the woods, he light into a Groue,
More pleasant farre then that where _Venus_ stroue
To win _Adonis_ to her hearts desire,
Moued by the burning zeale of sweet _Loues_ fire.
In this sweet Groue God _Pan_ did keepe his Court,
And summon'd all the petty Gods resort,
As Satyres, Nymphes, and others, to the same,
VVhere all sing prayses vnto _Laura's_ name.
Into this Groue (neare to her chamber side)
(To take the Ayre) she comes forth; soone espide
Of the yong Hunts-man, who made haste vnto her,
And thus the Nouice there beginnes to wooe her:
Parragon of beauty, diuine, though earthly creature,
And yet Celestiall in thy heauenly feature.
This sodaine courting, and vnwelcome sight,
Made her adde wings to feare, and to that, flight:
He following after, caught her by the traine,
That in a rage the Maide turn'd backe againe,
And did demaund why he without remorse,
Durst cause her stay, against her will, by force.
Mou'd by the rosiate colour of thy face,
(VVherein consists (quoth he) all heauenly grace)
I was too bold, I must confesse indeede,
To touch the seluage of thy sacred weede:
For which my selfe Ile punish as thou wilt,
VVith any paine, for my deserued guilt.
Doe but pronounce the sentence of my death,
These hands shall be the butchers of my breath:
But since the merit of my fault's no deeper,
Oh let me be thy Prisoner, thou my Keeper;
So shall thine eyes be witnesse of the woe,
VVhich for my bold offence Ile vndergoe.
Pronounce thy sentence then. VVherwith she spake,
You are your Crafts-man Sir: and there she brake.
Yet turning backe, quoth she, o would 'twere true,
Your loue were firme to me, as mine to you!
And here she ceased: for when he came neare her,
She was afraid that he would ouer-heare her.
And art thou so vnwilling then, quoth hee,
To doome the sentence wh