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Thus much shee sayd. And so
Unconstant was her wavering mynd still floting to and fro,
That though it irkt her for to have attempted, yit proceedes
Shee in the selfsame purpose of attempting, and exceedes
All measure, and, unhappy wench, shee takes from day to day
Repulse upon repulse, and yit shee hath not grace to stay.
Soone after when her brother saw there was with her no end,
He fled his countrie forbycause he would not so offend,
And in a forreine land did buyld a Citie. Then men say
That Byblis through despayre and thought all wholy did dismay.
Shee tare her garments from her brest, and furiously shee wroong
Her hands, and beete her armes, and like a bedlem with her toong
Confessed her unlawfull love. But beeing of the same
Dispoynted, shee forsooke her land and hatefull house for shame,
And followed after flying Caune. And as the Froes of Thrace
In dooing of the three yeere rites of Bacchus: in lyke cace
The maryed wyves of Bubasie saw Byblis howling out
Through all theyr champion feeldes, the which shee leaving, ran about
In Caria to the Lelegs who are men in battell stout,
And so to Lycia. Shee had past Crag, Limyre, and the brooke
Of Xanthus, and the countrie where Chymaera that same pooke
Hath Goatish body, Lions head and brist, and Dragons tayle,
When woods did want: and Byblis now beginning for to quayle
Through weerynesse in following Caune, sank down and layd her hed
Ageinst the ground, and kist the leaves that wynd from trees had shed.
The Nymphes of Caria went about in tender armes to take
Her often up. They oftentymes perswaded her to slake
Her love. And woords of comfort to her deafe eard mynd they spake.
Shee still lay dumbe: and with her nayles the greenish herbes shee hild,
And moysted with a streame of teares the grasse upon the feeld.
The waternymphes (so folk report) put under her a spring,
Whych never myght be dryde: and could they give a greater thing?
Immediatly even like as when yee wound a pitchtree rynd,
The gum dooth issue out in droppes: or as the westerne wynd
With gentle blast toogither with the warmth of Sunne, unbynd
The yee: or as the clammy kynd of cement which they call
Bitumen issueth from the ground full fraughted therewithall:
So Phoebus neece, Dame Byblis, then consuming with her teares,
Was turned to a fountaine, which in those same vallyes beares
The tytle of the founder still, and gusheth freshly out
From underneath a Sugarchest as if it were a spowt.

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