That either seemes some cursed witches deed,
Or euill spright, that in her doth such torment breed.
The wisard could no lenger[912] beare her bord, xix
But brusting forth in laughter, to her sayd;
Glauce, what needs this colourable word,
To cloke the cause, that hath it selfe bewrayd?
Ne ye faire Britomartis, thus arayd,
More hidden are, then Sunne in cloudy vele;
Whom thy good fortune, hauing fate obayd,
Hath hither brought, for succour to appele: