But I will first die in eternall night,
Though more and more doe sing the warbling birdes,
And fairer rise the bright and purple morning,
To shine vpon, and cherish this faire meade.
O irkesome garden! and O dolefull meade!
Since she, that cannot heare my plaining song,
And with her beames of beautie staines the morning,
Doth not giue light vnto my needefull day:
O trouble me no more you prating birdes,
For without her your morning is but night.
In that time of the still and silent night,
When in the townes, the hils, the vales, and meades,
All mortall men take rest, the beastes and birdes,
I most of all doe force my greeuous song,
Making my teares euen with the night, and day,
At noone, at night, and after in the morning.
One Morning onely conquere must myÂ Night,
And if one Day illustrate shall thisMeade,
Then will I heare with ioy the Songs of Birdes.
By this time Ismenia that was harkening at the window, knew that he that did sing, was her husband Montanus, and tooke so great delight to heare him, as greefe in hearing of that which he sung. For she thought, that the paine that (hee saide in his song) he was troubled with, was for anothers sake and not for hers; but she was by and by driuen out of this doubt, for she heard him (when he had made an end of his song) giue a maruellous great sigh, and saide. Ah wearied and sorrowfull hart! how ill didst thou abuse thy selfe and her in giuing credite to a simple surmise, and how iustly dost thou now suffer the sorrow, that thine owne lightnes hath procured? Ah my beloued Ismenia! how better had it bin for me, that thy zealous loue had not caused thee to seeke me thorow the worlde, bicause when I had come backe againe to our towne (and knowing mine owne fault) I might haue found thee in it? Ah wicâˆ£ked Sylueria, how ill didst thou requite him, that euer did thee good from his cradle? Alas I woulde haue thanked thee for the discouerie of the treacherie, which afterâˆ£wards thou toldest me, declaring to me the truth of the matter, but that it came too late, which then auailed no more, nor nowe, but for my greater paine and greefe. Ismenia hearing this, thought herselfe the happiest woman in the world, and was so glad aâ€¢ this good fortune, as may be possiblie imagined. The teares trickled downe her cheekes for ioy, and like one that was now neere vnto the ende of her troubles she saide. Now is the time of my happie daies come, and this house is onely made to helpe those that liue in distresse and woe. Marcelius and Diana were woonderfull glad for Ismenias ioy, and had by this, great hope of their own. Ismenta would by and by haue gone out of her chamber into the garden, and euen then when Marcelius and Diana were perswading her to staie, thinking it better to attend Felicias will and pleasure, they heard new songs about the fountaine, and Diana knew that it was Syâˆ£renus that sung them. Ismenia and Marcelius held their peace, bicause they would