By vertue of a cleane contrary gale,
Into some other Port? Where thou wilt find,
It was thy better Genius chang'd the wind,
To steere thee to some Iland in the West,
For wealth and pleasure, that transcends thy East.
Though Astrodora, like a sullen starre
Eclipse her selfe: Ith' sky of beauty are
Ten thousand other fires, some bright as she.
And who with milder beames, may shine on thee.
Nor yet doth this Eclipse beare a portent,