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To hide himselfe from his owne feared thought.
But the false Foxe, when he the Lion heard,
Fled closely forth, streightway of death afeard,
And to the Lion came, full lowly creeping,
With fained face, and watrie eyne halfe weeping,
T'excuse his former treason and abusion,
And turning all unto the Apes confusion:
Nath'les the Royall Beast forbore beleeving,
But bad him stay at ease till further preeving.
Then when he saw no entrance to him graunted,
Roaring yet lowder that all harts it daunted,
Upon those gates with force he fiercely flewe,
And, rending them in pieces, felly slewe
Those warders strange, and all that els he met.
But th' Ape still flying he no where might get :
From rowme to rowme, from beame to beame he fled
All breathles, and for feare now almost ded:
Yet him at last the Lyon spide, and caught,
And forth with shame unto his judgement brought.
Then all the beasts he caus'd assembled bee,
To heare their doome, and sad ensample see:
The Foxe, first Author of that treacherie,

He did uncase, and then away let flie.

But th' Apes long taile (which then he had) he quight
Cut off, and both eares pared of their hight;

Since which, all Apes but halfe their eares have left,
And of their tailes are utterlie bereft.

So Mother Hubberd her discourse did end:
Which pardon me, if I amisse have pend:
For weake was my remembrance it to hold,
And bad her tongue that it so bluntly tolde.

PROTHALAMION: OR, A SPOUSALL

VERSE, MADE BY

EDM. SPENSER,

In honour of the double marriage of the two Honorable and vertuous ladies, the Ladie Elizabeth, and the Ladie Katherine Somerset, daughters to the Right Honorable the Earle of Worcester, and espoused to the two worthie Gentlemen, M. Henry Gilford and M. William Peter, Esquyers.

CA

SPOUSALL VERSE.

ALME was the day, and through the trembling ayre
Sweete-breathing Zephyrus did softly play

A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay

Hot Titans beames, which then did glyster fayre;
When I, (whom [whose] sullein care,

Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay
In Princes Court, and expectation vayne
Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away,
Like empty shadows, did afflict my brayne,)
Walkt forth to ease my payne

Along the shoare of silver streaming Themmes;
Whose rutty Bank, the which his River hemmes,
Was paynted all with variable flowers,

And all the meades adornd with dainty gemmes,
Fit to decke maydens bowres,

And crowne their Paramours

Against the Brydale day, which is not long:

Sweet Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

There, in a Meadow, by the Rivers side,
A flocke of Nymphes I chaunced to espy,
All lovely daughters of the Flood thereby,
With goodly greenish locks, all loose untyde,
As each had bene a Bryde;

And each one had a little wicker basket,
Made of fine twigs, entrayled curiously,

In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket,