And she cometh, she ever staies,

For the space of fortie daies,

And more or lesse raines euery day.

But the good St., when once he knew,
This raine was like to fall on you,

If Sts could weepe, he had wept as much As when he did the Lady leade

That did on burning iron tread :

To Ladies his respect is such.

He gently first bids Iris goe
Unto the Antipodes below,

But shee for that more sullen grew.
When he saw that, with angry looke,
From her her rayneie roabes he tooke,
Which heere he doth present to you.

It is fitt it should with you remaine,
For you
know better how to raine.

Yet if it raine still as before,

St Swythen praies that you would guesse,

That Iris doth more robes possesse,

And that you should blame him no more.

At her Maiesties departure from Harefield, PLACE, attyred in black mouringe aparell, vsed this farewell followinge :

P. Sweet Maiestie, be pleased to looke vpon a poore Wydow, mourning before your Grace. I am this Place, which at your comming was full of ioy; but now at your departure am as full of sorrow. I was then, for my comfort, accompanied with the present cheerful Time; but now he is to depart with you; and, blessed as he is, must euer fly before you: But, alas! I haue no wings, as Time hath. My heauiness is such, that I must stand still, amazed to see so greate happines so sone bereft mee. Oh, that I could remoue with you, as other circumstances can! Time can goe with you, Persons can goe with you; they can moue like Heaven; but I, like dull Earth (as I am indeed) must stand vnmouable. I could wish my selfe like the inchanted Castle of Loue, to hould you heere for euer, but that your vertues would dissolue all my inchauntments. Then what remedy? As it is against the nature of an Angell to be circumscribed in Place, so it is against the nature of Place to haue the motion of an Angell. I must stay forsaken and desolate. You may goe with maiestie, joy, and glory. My only suyte, before you goe, is that you will pardon the close imprisonment

which you haue suffred euer since your comminge, imputinge it not to mee, but St. Swythen, who of late hath raysed soe many stormes, as I was faine to prouide this Anchor, for you, when I did vnderstand you would put into this creeke. But now, since I perceaue this harbour is too little for you, and you will hoyse sayle and be gone, I beseech you take this Anchor with you. And I pray to Him that made both Time and Place, that, in all places where euer you shall arriue, you may anchor as safly, as you doe and euer shall doe in the harts of my Owners.

THE COMPLAINT OF THE V SATYRES
AGAINST THE NYMPHS.

Tell me, O Nymphes, why do you
Shune vs that your loues pursue?

What doe the Satyres notes retaine
That should merite your disdaine?

On our browes if hornes doe growe,
Was not Bacchus armèd soe?
Yet of him the Candian maid
Held no scorne, nor was affraid.

4 A Jewell.

Say our colours tawny bee,

Phoebus was not faire to see;

Yet faire Clymen1 did not shunn
To bee Mother of his Sonne.

If our beards be rough and long,
Soe had Hercules the strong :
Yet Deianier,2 with many a kisse,
Joyn'd her tender lipps to his.

If our bodies hayry bee,
Mars as rugged was as wee:
Yet did Ilia3 think her grac'd,
For to be by Mars imbrac'd.

Say our feet ill-fauored are,
Cripples leggs are worse by farre :
Yet faire Venus, during life,

Was the lymping Vulcan's wife.

Breefly, if by nature we

But imperfect creatures be;

Thinke not our defects so much,

Since Celestial Powers be such.

1 Clymene. G.

3 Mother of Romulus. G.

2 Deianeira, daughter of Oeneus. G.

But you Nymphes, whose veniall loue
Loue of gold alone doth moue,
Though you scorne vs, yet for gold
Your base loue is bought and sold.

finis.