If he be blind, how hitteth he so right?
How is he young, that tamed old Phoebus
youth?
But arrowes two, and tipt with gold or lead,
Some hurt, accuse a third with horney head.

No nothing so; an old, false knave he is,
By Argus got on Io, then a cow:
What time for her, Juno her Jove did miss,
And charge of her to Argus did allow.
Mercury killed his false sire for this act,
His damme a beast was pardoned, beastly
fact.

With father's death, and mother's guilty shame,
With Jove's disdain at such a rival's feed:
The wretch compel'd, a runegate became,
And learn'd what ill, a miser-state did breed,
To lye, to steal, to prie, and to accuse,
Nought in himself, each other to abuse.


[Footnote 1: Athen, Oxon, folio, p. 226.]

[Footnote 2: Wood, p. 227.]

[Footnote 3: Earl of Leicester.]

[Footnote 4: Lord Brook's life.]