Page:Metamorphoses (Ovid, 1567).djvu/259

It spyghts her. In what case she was as yit shee did not see.
Her heate exceeded not so farre as for to vow: and yit
Shee suffred in her troubled brist full many a burning fit.
Now calleth shee him mayster, now shee utter hateth all
The names of kin. Shee rather had he should her Byblis call
Than suster. Yit no filthy hope shee durst permit to creepe
Within her mynd awake. But as shee lay in quiet sleepe,
Shee oft behild her love: and oft she thought her brother came
And lay with her, and (though asleepe) shee blushed at the same.
When sleepe was gone, she long lay dumb still musing on the syght,
And said with wavering mynd: Now wo is mee, most wretched wyght.
What meenes the image of this dreame that I have seene this nyght?
I would not wish it should bee trew. Why dreamed I then so?
Sure hee is fayre although hee should bee judged by his fo.
He likes mee well, and were he not my brother, I myght set
My love on him, and he were mee ryght woorthy for to get,
But unto this same match the name of kinred is a let.
Well, so that I awake doo still mee undefylde keepe,
Let come as often as they will such dreamings in my sleepe.
In sleepe there is no witnesse by. In sleepe yit may I take
As greate a pleasure (in a sort) as if I were awake.
Oh Venus and thy tender sonne, Sir Cupid, what delyght,
How present feeling of your sport hath touched mee this nyght.
How lay I as it were resolvd both maree, flesh, and bone.
How gladdes it mee to thinke thereon. Alas too soone was gone
That pleasure, and too hastye and despyghtfull was the nyght
In breaking of my joyes. O Lord, if name of kinred myght
Betweene us two removed bee, how well it would agree,
O Caune, that of thy father I the daughtrinlaw should bee.
How fitly myght my father have a sonneinlaw of thee.
Would God that all save auncesters were common to us twayne.
I would thou were of nobler stocke than I. I cannot sayne,
O perle of beautie, what shee is whom thou shalt make a mother.
Alas how ill befalles it mee that I could have none other
Than those same parents which are thyne. So only still my brother
And not my husband mayst thou bee. The thing that hurts us bothe
Is one, and that betweene us ay inseparably gothe.