Whose azured gates enchased with his name,
Shall make the morning halt her gray vprise,
To feede her eyes with his engrauen fame.
Thus in stoute _Hectors_ race three hundred yeares,
The Romane Scepter royall shall remaine,
Till that a Princesse priest conceau'd by _Mars_,
Shall yeeld to dignitie a dubble birth,
Who will eternish _Troy_ in their attempts.

_Venus._ How may I credite these thy flattering termes,
When yet both sea and sands beset their ships,
And _Phœbus_ as in stygian pooles, refraines
To taint his tresses in the Tyrrhen maine?

_Iup._ I will take order for that presently:
_Hermes_ awake, and haste to _Neptunes_ realme,
Whereas the Wind-god warring now with Fate,
Besiege the ofspring of our kingly loynes,
Charge him from me to turne his stormie powers,
And fetter them in _Vulcans_ sturdie brasse,
That durst thus proudly wrong our kinsmans peace.
_Venus_ farewell, thy sonne shall be our care:
Come _Ganimed_, we must about this geare.

_Exeunt Iupiter cum Ganimed._

_Venus._ Disquiet Seas lay downe your swelling lookes,
And court _Æneas_ with your calmie cheere,
Whose beautious burden well might make you proude,
Had not the heauens conceau'd with hel-borne clowdes,