Approching nigh, she gins to mend her pace,
And makes her feare a spur to hast her flight:
More swift then Myrrh’ or Daphne in her race,
Or any of the Thracian Nimphes in saluage chase.
Long so she fled, and so he follow’d long; xxiii
Ne liuing aide for her on earth appeares,
But if the heauens helpe to redresse her wrong,
Moued with pity of her plenteous teares.
It fortuned Belphebe with her peares
The woody Nimphs, and with that louely boy,