LXXV.
[Not she, whom Ioue transported into Crete]
In this passion the Authour boroweth from certaine Latine
verses of his owne, made long agoe vpon the loue abuses of
Iuppiter in a certaine peece of worke written in the commendation
of women kinde; which he hath not yet wholie
perfected to the print. Some of the verses may be thus cited
to the explaning of this passion, although but lamelie.
Accipe vt ignaram candentis imagine Tauri
Luserit Europam ficta &c.
Quàm nimio Semelen fuerit complexus amore. &c.
Qualis & Asterien aquilinis presserit alis:
Quoque dolo lædam ficto sub olore fefellit.
Adde quòd Antiopam Satyri sub imagine &c.
Et fuit Amphytrio, cum te Tarynthia &c.
Æginæque duos ignis sub imagine natos &c.
Parrhasiam fictæ pharetra Uultuque Dianæ,
Mnemosynen pastor; serpens Decïda lusit. &c.
Ouid writeth somewhat in like manner Metam. lib. 6.
Not
she, whom Ioue transported into Crete;
Nor Semele, to whom he vowd in hast;
Nor she, whose flanckes he fild with fayned heate;
Nor whome with Ægles winges he oft embrast;
Nor Danaë, beguyl'd by golden raye;
Nor she, for whome he tooke Dianaes shape;
Nor faire Antiopa, whose fruitefull loue
He gayned Satyr like; nor she, whose Sonne
To wanton Hebe was conioyn'd aboue;
Nor sweete Mnemosyne, whose loue he wunne
In shepheardes weede; no such are like the Saint,
whose eyes enforce my feeble heart to faint.
And Ioue him selfe may storme, if so he please,
To heare me thus compare my Loue with his:
No forked fire, nor thunder can disease
This heart of mine, where stronger torment is:
But O how this surpasseth all the rest,
That she, which hurtes me most, I loue her best.
