Vpon thy Temples, therefore thou doest flye,
    And wilt not helpe them in necessitie. 
      Thinking vpon thee, I doe often muse,
    Whether for thy deare sake I should accuse
    Nature or Fortune, Fortune then I blame,
    And doe impute it as her greatest shame, 50
    To hast thy timelesse end, and soone agen
    I vexe at Nature, nay I curse her then,
    That at the time of need she was no stronger,
    That we by her might haue enioy’d thee longer. 
      But whilst of these I with my selfe debate,
    I call to minde how flinty-hearted Fate
    Seaseth the olde, the young, the faire, the foule,
    No thing on earth can Destinie controule: 
    But yet that Fate which hath of life bereft thee,
    Still to eternall memory hath left thee, 60
    Which thou enioy’st by the deserued breath,
    That many a great one hath not after death.

NIMPHIDIA

THE COVRT OF FAYRIE

    Olde CHAVCER doth of Topas tell,
    Mad RABLAIS of Pantagruell,
    A latter third of Dowsabell,
      With such poore trifles playing: 
    Others the like haue laboured at
    Some of this thing, and some of that,
    And many of they know not what,
      But that they must be saying.

    Another sort there bee, that will
    Be talking of the Fayries still, 10
    Nor neuer can they have their fill,
      As they were wedded to them;
    No Tales of them their thirst can slake,
    So much delight therein they take,
    And some strange thing they fame would make,
      Knew they the way to doe them.

    Then since no Muse hath bin so bold,
    Or of the Later, or the ould,
    Those Eluish secrets to vnfold,
      Which lye from others reading, 20
    My actiue Muse to light shall bring,
    The court of that proud Fayry King,
    And tell there, of the Reuelling,
      Ioue prosper my proceeding.

    And thou NIMPHIDIA gentle F_ay_,
    Which meeting me vpon the way,
    These secrets didst to me bewray,
      Which now I am in telling: 
    My pretty light fantastick mayde,
    I here inuoke thee to my ayde, 30
    That I may speake what thou hast sayd,
      In numbers smoothly swelling.

    This Pallace standeth in the Ayre,
    By Nigromancie placed there,
    That it no Tempests needs to feare,
      Which way so ere it blow it. 
    And somewhat Southward tow’rd the Noone,
    Whence lyes a way vp to the Moone,
    And thence the Fayrie can as soone
      Passe to the earth below it. 40