re set;
May ones owne seed to procreation moue?
No sure, unlesse it doth a monster proue.
Their musicke is the scriking of the Ow'es,
As if the fiends came for to sunder them,
The rauing dogs affright them with their howles,
As all the fiends came forth to iniure them;
The stars behind the clouds, a great way hence,
Like spies lie peeping to disclose the offence.
Their bed doth shake and quauer as they lie,
As if it groan'd to beare the weight of sinne,
The fatall night-crowes at their windowes flie,
And cries out at the shame they do liue in:
And that they may perceiue they heauens frown,
The Poukes & Goblins pul the couerings down.
The pillow that her cursed head doth beare,
Which is a castle of accursed ill,
The weighty burthen of the same doth feare,
And therefore shrinketh inwards from her stil:
Whilst both the ends high swelling with disdaine
Like angry foe-men raise themselues amaine.
The bed, more kind then they religious are,
Doth seeke to shroud their foule defiled act,
And therefore lets them fall into it farre
As in some vale for to conceale the fact:
Like bulwarkes rising to defend their names,
Or swelling mountains to obscure their shames.
O there they lie and glut themselues with sin,
A iocund sin that doth the flesh delight,
A filthy flesh that can reioyce herein,
A silly ioy that gainst the soule doth fight,
A fasting sport, a pleasure soone forgot,
That bringeth shame with an eternall blot.
Thrice happy now, had wicked _Myrha_ bene,
If some foule swelling _Eban_ cloud would fall,
For her to hide her selfe eternall in,
Or had the bed bene burnt with wilde fire all,
And thereby moult the heauens golden frame
That al things might haue ended with her shame.
And now reuenge, a souldier vnto lust,
Comes scouring in, as it had bene beguil'd
Accompanied with fame and foule distrust,
And with disgrace, blacke luxures basest child,
These threaten them and blaze abroad the fact,
And like to Trumpets thunder out the act.
Not many nights they spending in this sort,
But _Cyneras_ at length desir'd to know
Who 'twas affoorded him this pleasant sport,
And freely did the curtesy bestow:
And hauing done this taske vs'd euery night.
Forth he doth steale and goes to seek the light.
O hide thee _Myrha_, 'tis not time to sleepe,
A thunder
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