XLII.
[This latter night amidst my troubled rest]
In this Passiō the Authour vnder colour of telling his dreame
doth very cunningly and liuely praise his Mistres, so farre
forth, as not onely to prefer her before Helen of Greece for
excellencie of beautie, but also before howe many soeuer are
nowe liuing in this our age. The dreame of it selfe is so
plainely & effectually set downe (albeit in fewe wordes) that
it neede no further annotation to explaine it.
This
latter night amidst my troubled rest
A Dismall Dreame my fearefull hart appald,
Whereof the somme was this: Loue made a Feast,
To which all Neighbour, Saintes and Gods were calde:
The cheere was more then mortall men can thinke,
And mirth grew on, by taking in their drinke.
Then Ioue amidst his cuppes for seruice done
Gan thus to iest with Ganymede his boy;
I fame would finde for thee my preaty Sonne
A fayrer Wife, then Paris brought to Troy:
Why, sir, quoth he, if Phebus stand my frend,
Who know's the world, this geere will soone haue end.
Then Ioue replide that Phebus should not choose
But do his best to finde the fayrest face;
And she once found should neither will nor choose
But yeelde her selfe, and chaunge her dwelling place;
Alas, how much was then my hart affright,
Which bade me wake and watch my faire delight?
