Dorilus. He spurd the Tit vntill he bled,
So that at last he ran his head
Against the forked Mountaine,
Doron. How sayst thou, but pyde Iris got
Into great Iunos Chariot,
I spake with one that saw her.
Dorilus. And there the pert and sawcy Elfe,
Behau'd her as twere Iuno's selfe,
80And made the Peacocks draw her.
Doron. Ile borrow Phœbus fiery Iades,
With which about the world he trades,
And put them in my Plow.
Dorilus. O thou most perfect frantique man,
Yet let thy rage be what it can,
Ile be as mad as thou.
Doron. Ile to great Iove, hap good, hap ill,
Though he with Thunder threat to kill,
And beg of him a boone.
90Dorilus. To swerue vp one of Cynthias beames,
And there to bath thee in the streames.
Discouerd in the Moone.
Doron. Come frolick Youth and follow me,
My frantique boy, and Ile show thee
The Countrey of the Fayries.
Dorilus. The fleshy Mandrake where't doth grow
In noonshade of the Mistletow,
And where the Phœnix Aryes.
Doron. Nay more, the Swallowes winter bed,
100The Caverns where the Winds are bred,
Since thus thou talkst of showing.