The King then cheeres his daughter, in his arme, Why dost thou weep? be still my sweete, be stil, Come clip thy loue I meane to do no harme, My Kingly bed with pleasures shall thee fill, And to hide all that idle heads may moue, Hence-forth I call thee daughter and not loue.
Come kisse thy father, gentle daughter then, _A_nd learne to sport thee in a wanton bed; Is this the tricks (she softly said) of men? And counterfeiting speech vnknowne, she said, A daughters name, me thinkes, doth not agree, Ist well with your owne child in loue to be?
The King, not deeming who lay by his side, Replies, what hurt deere Lady can it be? No ill I know by that meanes can betide, The loue more firme thereby we common see: It is not ill though men the same not craue, For we want daughters till a wife we haue.
She did reply, and said, why put the case That I were _Myrha_ for as men do say, My countenance resembleth much her face; Were't not offence, think you, with me to play? Misdeeming nought, againe, he doth reply; No more th[=e] 'tis with thee, sweet wench, to lie.
O would, quoth _Myrha_, you could likewise proue Whereby I might but know some reafon why, It were not ill to grant to you my loue, That loue should then alone to you apply; Were I your daughter I might well consent, Say halfe so much for me I am content.
The King replies, my sweete, my will is law, And may command my subiects when I will, Besides all this, you furthermore do know You must obey, I call you daughter still; Then talke no more, she said, I do agree Thy daughter and thy subiect yeelds to thee.
Oh! now the father his owne child doth take, And of his owne he doth his owne beget, Of his owne loines another child doth make, Repugnant to the Law that nature set; May ones owne seed to procreation moue? No sure, unlesse it doth a monster proue.
Their musicke is the scriking of the Ow'es, As if the fiends came for to sunder them, The rauing dogs affright them with their howles, As all the fiends came forth to iniure them; The stars behind the clouds, a great way hence, Like spies lie peeping to disclose the offence.
Their bed doth shake and quauer as they lie, As if it groan'd to beare the weight of sinne, The fatall night-crowes at their windowes flie, And cries out at the shame they do liue in: And that they may perceiue they heauens frown, The Poukes & Goblins pul the couerings down.