_Grace_.

Like _Merlins_ mother, how was that I pray,
For I haue heard he was a cunning man,
There lines not snch another at this day,
Nor euer was, since _Brittans_ first began:
Tell vs the story, and we well will minde it.
Because they say, _In written bookes we finde it_.

_Bride_.

Marry this _Merlins_ mother was welsh Lady,
That liued in _Carnaruan_ beautious maide,
And loue of Lords and Knights shee did not way by,
But set all light, and euery one denay'd:
All Gentlemen, (as all you knowe be there,)
That came a wooing were no wit the neere.

At length it hapned that this gallant girle,
Which scorned all men that she euer saw,
Holding her selfe to be a matchlesse Pearle,
And such a Loadestone that could Louers draw:
Grew belly-full, exceeding bigge and plumpe,
Which put her Mayden-credit in a dumpe.

Time running course, and her full stomacke fed,
When consumation of fewe months expired,
Shee husbandlesse, a mayde was brought to bed,
Of that rare _Merlin_ that the world admired:
This to be honest, all her friends did doubt it,