e they not violent each) she that giues features
Forme or takes away, makes foule or faire,
Discending from her Spheare next to our ayre:
with armes yspred, vppon the melting mir,
brought diuine comfort downe from heau[=e] with her

Few wordes she spake, but euery sillable,
of power to comfort the afflicted Ghostes;
Or any other sencelesse thing make able,
doe better deedes then those _Alcides_ boastes,
the tree streight craynes, & springs forth the child
who the first minut, though his countenance smild
cryed out a maine, our first propheticke breath,
showes our first houre, is mother to our death.

The water Nymphes then caught him tenderly,
who laid him streight on the enameled bankes,
and bath'd him with his mothers teares, whereby
they made him fairer, and in merry prankes
The Ladies call a conuocation there,
Some praise his nose, his lips, his eye, his eare.
Some his streight fingers, whilst a fist doth sweare
his verry breath yet smelleth of the mirre.

Another wishes, oh for such a face!
Nor can I blame her though she did wish so:
For sure, were I a wench, t'had bin my case,
for nature heere, made both her ioy and woe,
And spight that (but herself) commendeth none,
Of force must say, this was a rarer one
Then either nature did, or ere shall make,
whose life holdes vp her age, whose deathe's her wrack.

Eyes like two stars falne from their proper sphears
as if they scorn'd the beaten pathes of heauen:
Or enuying of beautie of the beares,
showne firmer heere, and brighter then the seau[=e]
Such was he as was Cupid wont to be
In pictures lim'd, and that they may agree,
furnish the babe with winges and quiuer light,
or from loues God, take wings, and quier quite.

Nought may compare with Time in his swift race
the babe ere while feeles now youths hot alarms
And as in yeares, so beautious grew his face,
that he is fit againe for Ladies armes:
Nor Cupid now could wound more dames th[=e] he
That Venus who Captiues all, is not free
From her own power, she loue's Adonis milde,
That Mars doth storm, & wish he were no childe.

Nor Paphos, Amathus nor fishie Gnide,
delights she now to haunt, nor Etna now
Burnes more then her, she roans the wood so wide
after her game, that to his game doth bow.
And will not heare or see, for eies and eares,
If they her heare or se