By this the Lady's in the _Arabian_ fields,
And fearefully doth range about the same,
Which plenteously the bearing _Date-tree_ yeelds,
At length she also through _Paenchaia_ came,
Her fathers rage being something over-past,
At _Saba_ land she doth arriue at last.

The King not finding her, begins to fret,
And vex himselfe with anguish, care & griefe,
He scoulds with fortune, that this trap did set,
_A_nd chides the Fates for yeelding no reliefe:
Small sorrowes grew till they to greater came,
Like little sparkes increasing into flame.

Euen as a river swelling ore her bounds,
By daily falling of small drops of raine,
Likewise his care continually abounds,
By howerly thinking of his his fault againe,
Content were found soone in calamity,
The thought thereof raz'd out of memory.

Daughter, quoth he, with eyes full fraught with teares,
What hast thou done? o foule accursed child!
Why hast deceiu'd my aged blosom'd haires?
Why didst thy Princely Father so beguile?
_A_lasse! I erre, thou art no childe to me,
Nor longer Il'e thy louing father be.

Go seeke some hole eternall to lye in,
_A_nd neuermore behold the heauens light,
Thou hast disgraced all thy name and kin,
Then hide thee euerlasting from my sight,
Thou hast not onely brought vs both to shame,
But made thy father actor of the same.

How will thy mother thinke her selfe abus'd,
That hast made her a quot-queane shamefully,
Of filthy incest I do thee accuse,
That Lemmon-like didst with thy father lye,
Then hye to hell, haste to the Furies there,
When raging parets witnesse gainst thee beare.

Oh but the fault thy owne was most of all,
Poore _Myrha_ thou didst meane no hurt to me,
It wot: thou said'st (my selfe I witnesse call)
Twas ill with your owne childe in loue to be.
And vrg'd againe, what if she _Myrha_ were,
I basely said, there was no fault in her.

Then rent thy braines with terror of the deed,
Confused thoughts burst thine accursed breast,
As if thou did'st on deadly poyson feed,
And in _Elisium_ let thy soule nere rest,
Rore seas, quake earth, till you deuoure him
That hath defil'd his daughter with foule sin.

Yet she did know I was her father deere,
What meant she then to seeke me in such sort?
I did not know my daughter to be there,
And therefore wished her no kind of hurt.