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most cursed things to speake I now commence. Yee daughters and yee parents all go get yee farre from hence. Or if yee mynded bee to heere my tale, beleeve mee nought In this beehalfe: ne think that such a thing was ever wrought. Or if yee will beeleeve the deede, beleeve the vengeance too Which lyghted on the partye that the wicked act did doo. But if that it be possible that any wyght so much From nature should degenerate, as for to fall to such A heynous cryme as this is, I am glad for Thracia, I Am glad for this same world of ours, yea glad exceedingly I am for this my native soyle, for that there is such space Betweene it and the land that bred a chyld so voyd of grace. I would the land Panchaya should of Amomie be rich, And Cinnamom, and Costus sweete, and Incence also which Dooth issue largely out of trees, and other flowers straunge, As long as that it beareth Myrrhe: not woorth it was the chaunge, Newe trees to have of such a pryce. The God of love denyes His weapons to h
Cyprus (Cyprus) (search for this): book 10, card 298
orne. And that this lucklesse plot Should hinder mee. Why thinke I thus? Avaunt, unlawfull love. I ought to love him, I confesse: but so as dooth behove His daughter: were not Cinyras my father than, Iwis I myght obtaine to lye with him. But now bycause he is Myne owne, he cannot bee myne owne. The neerenesse of our kin Dooth hurt me. Were I further off perchaunce I more myght win. And if I wist that I therby this wickednesse myght shunne, I would forsake my native soyle and farre from Cyprus runne. This evill heate dooth hold mee backe, that beeing present still I may but talke with Cinyras and looke on him my fill, And touch, and kisse him, if no more may further graunted bee. Why wicked wench, and canst thou hope for further? doost not see How by thy fault thou doost confound the ryghts of name and kin? And wilt thou make thy mother bee a Cucqueane by thy sin? Wilt thou thy fathers leman bee? wilt thou bee both the moother And suster of thy chyld? shall he bee both thy
to knowe His lover that so many nyghts uppon him did bestowe, Did fetch a light: by which he sawe his owne most heynous cryme, And eeke his daughter. Nathelesse, his sorrow at that time Represt his speeche. Then hanging by he drew a Rapier bryght. Away ran Myrrha, and by meanes of darknesse of the nyght Shee was delivered from the death: and straying in the broade Datebearing feeldes of Arabye, shee through Panchaya yode, And wandring full nyne moonethes at length shee rested beeing tyrde In Saba land. And when the tyme was neere at hand expyrde, And that uneath the burthen of her womb shee well could beare, Not knowing what she might desyre, distrest betweene the feare Of death, and tediousnesse of lyfe, this prayer shee did make: O Goddes, if of repentant folk you any mercye take, Sharpe vengeance I confesse I have deserved, and content I am to take it paciently. How bee it to th'entent That neyther with my lyfe the quick, nor with my death the dead Anoyed bee, from both of them