treads.

And now she doth her enterprise repent,
And wish she might vnknowne returne againe,
Vnto his bed the pawsing Nurse then went;
And cal'd the King & told him thus much plaine
Dread King awake, of pleasures take thy fill,
This Ladie's thine, then vse her as you will.

The cursed father then his bowels takes
Into his bed, o filthy blob and staine,
His daughter shiuers in his armes, and quakes,
This being done, the nurse returnes againe
And said, make much of her, to weepe forbeare
None wold weepe for that which you now feare.

The King then cheeres his daughter, in his arme,
Why dost thou weep? be still my sweete, be stil,
Come clip thy loue I meane to do no harme,
My Kingly bed with pleasures shall thee fill,
And to hide all that idle heads may moue,
Hence-forth I call thee daughter and not loue.

Come kisse thy father, gentle daughter then,
_A_nd learne to sport thee in a wanton bed;
Is this the tricks (she softly said) of men?
And counterfeiting speech vnknowne, she said,
A daughters name, me thinkes, doth not agree,
Ist well with your owne child in loue to be?

The King, not deeming who lay by his side,
Replies, what hurt deere Lady can it be?
No ill I know by that meanes can betide,
The loue more firme thereby we common see:
It is not ill though men the same not craue,
For we want daughters till a wife we haue.

She did reply, and said, why put the case
That I were _Myrha_ for as men do say,
My countenance resembleth much her face;
Were't not offence, think you, with me to play?
Misdeeming nought, againe, he doth reply;
No more th[=e] 'tis with thee, sweet wench, to lie.

O would, quoth _Myrha_, you could likewise proue
Whereby I might but know some reafon why,
It were not ill to grant to you my loue,
That loue should then alone to you apply;
Were I your daughter I might well consent,
Say halfe so much for me I am content.

The King replies, my sweete, my will is law,
And may command my subiects when I will,
Besides all this, you furthermore do know
You must obey, I call you daughter still;
Then talke no more, she said, I do agree
Thy daughter and thy subiect yeelds to thee.

Oh! now the father his owne child doth take,
And of his owne he doth his owne beget,
Of his owne loines another child doth make,
Repugnant to the Law that natu