AFter an vntoward iourney and seuerall infortu­nate tempests, besides the vnskilfulnesse of our Pil [...]te, I happily arriued at the Citie of Sydon, where being set on shore, I straight with my com­panions went to offer incense to the goddesse of Prosperity, w [...]ich the Citizens call Araste. [...]hi­ther being come, my deuotion done, and my oblations presented, desired to take a view of the ancient Monuments of the Temple, I passed through many places, where most sumptuous sepul­chers were erected: which hauing seene, as I thought to haue gone to my lodging, I spied a Cell, hauing the doore open: whereinto as I entred, I saw an Archslamin sitting (as I suppo­sed) at his Orizons, for so was the Priest of the goddesse termed, who being cloth [...]d in white Sattin Robes, and crowned with a Diadem of perfect gold, leaned his head vpon his right hand, pow­ring forth streames o [...] teares, as outward signes of some inward pas [...]ons, & held in his le [...]t hand the counterfeit of Fortune, which with one foote trode vpon a Pol [...]pe [...], and with the other on a Camelion, as assured ba [...]i [...] her mutabilitie. Driuen into a dumpe with the si [...]ht o [...] this strange de [...]i [...], as I long gazed at the vnacquainte [...] gesture of this liue Fl [...]min, willing to know both the cause of his care, & what the picture of fortune did import, I was so bold to wake him out of [...]is passion, with this parle.

Father (quoth I) if my presump [...]ion bee great in preasing [...]o rashly into so secret and sacred a place tha [...] I hope, weighing my will, you will somewhat excuse my boldnes [...] for I haue not presu­med [Page] as thinking to giue any iust occasion of offence, but as a stranger, desirous to see the Monuments of this ancient Temple, which [...] I [...]arrowly viewed, happ [...]ning by chanc [...] into this your Cell, an [...] seeing y [...]ur old age p [...]rplexed with [...]trange passion [...], stat­ed as one willing to learn what disaster hath driuen you into these dumps, which if I w [...]hout off [...]nce may request, and yo [...] with­out preiudice grant, I shall find my selfe by duty bound to requite your vndeserued curtes [...]e.

After I had vttered these wordes, staying a good space to heare what the [...]lde man would answere, seeing h [...]e did not so much as vo [...]chsafe to giue an eare to my par [...]e, or an eye to my person, but still gazed on the picture of Fortune. I saw a present Metamor­phosis of his actions: for from teares hee fell to tr [...]fl [...]ng, from lowring to laughing, from mourning to mirth, yet neuer casting his eyes from Fortunes counterfeit, till at last after hee had long smiled (as I thought) at th [...] pi [...]ure, hee as in desp [...]te cast it from [...] [...]nd taking his Lute, plaied a dumpe, whereto he warble [...] ou [...] [...]ese word [...]:

[Page]The graue Priest hauing with sig [...]s sobbed out this sorow­full ditty, I was driuen into a maze what the contrary content [...] of these verses should meane, vntill at last casting hi [...] eye asid [...], and séeing me stand so solemnely, [...]e burst forth [...]nto these cholerick [...] termes.

Friend, quoth he (if I may so terme thée) thou hast either not hear [...] much, or learned very little, either thy curtesie is small, or thy con­ditions too currish, that séekest to come to counsell before thou be cal­led [...] If the secrecy of my Cell, or the reuer [...]nce of my age, or thy small acquaintance with me, were not sufficient to hold thée from pressing so nigh: yet seeing me thus perplexed, thou mightest (for modesty sake haue left me to my secret and sorrowful passions. If it be the cu­stome of thy Country to be so discourteous [...] I like not the fruit of such a soyle: If thy owne folly to be thus rash, I craue not to be ac­quainted with such a bold guest: but whether it be or no, as thou ca­mest in without my leaue, I wish thé [...] to goe out by iust command.

He had no sooner vttered these words, but hee was ready to take vp the picture, if I had not hindered him with this reply.

Sir where the offence is confessed, there the fault is halfe pardo­ned, and those fac [...]s that are committed by ignorance, alwayes claime remission by course: I grant that I haue béene much too rash, but I repent, and there [...]ore hope you will take the lesse offence, and the soo­ner excuse my folly: faults committed by will, gaine oft times but a che [...], then mine done by ignorance, shall I hope escape without a mate. Penalties are enioyned by the intent more then by the worke, and things done amisse (saith Tully) euer ought to be measured by the passion, a [...] not by the méere action. Which considered, if my pre­sence hath béene pr [...]diciall to your reposenesse, I hope you will thinke I offende [...] stranger, and will pardon me, as one sorry for so rash an ent [...]rise.

The old man very a [...]entiuel [...] hearing my talke, hauing some­what digested his cholar, rising vp from his seat, made mee this friendly answere.

Friend [...]uoth he) It is not gold that glisters, the smoothest talk [...] hath oft times the smallest truth, the Sunne when it glistereth mo [...] bright, br [...]ueth the greatest shower. The Painter casteth the fairest c [...]lour ouer the soulest boord, and strangers flatterings ar [...] oft times but mée [...] deceits: yet whether thy talke be truth o [...] tales, whether thou commest to note my passions as a spy, or hast by chance [...]it into my C [...]ll as a stranger, I care not: for if thou enuy me as a foe, I [Page] feare not the spite of Fortune: if thou muse at my sudden motions, it shall little auayle thee to heare it, and be a great griefe for me to re­ [...]earse it.

O sir (quoth I) if my credit might be such as without desert to ob­taine so much fauour, or if the prayer of a poore stranger might pr [...] ­ [...]aile to perswade you to vnfold the cause of these your sudden passi­ons, I should think my former trauels counteruailed wi [...]h this your friendly curtesie.

It is good indéed (quoth he) by other mens harmes to learne to be­ware: Phoe [...]us had neuer béene so wa [...]y of Vulcane, if Mars his mis­h [...]p had not bid him take héed: Vlysses had not so wiselie eschewed Circes charmes, if he had not seen [...] before his fellowes transformed, & perhaps the hearing of my former cares may free thée from ensuing calamity.

I haue béene my selfe a Prince, which am now subiect vnto power: alate a mighty Potentat [...], & now constrained to liue vnder a seruil [...] law: not contented erewhile with a kingly Palac [...], now sufficiently satisfied with a poore Cell, and yet this present want excéeds my won­ted weale. I then had too much in penury, and now I lacke in super­stuitie, being cloyed with abundance, yet hauing nothing, in that my minde remaineth vnsatisfied. Fortune, yea Fortune in fauouring me, hath made me most infortunate. Syren-like hiding vnder musick miserie, vnder pleasure paine [...] vnder mirth mourning, like the su [...]ed [...]onicombe, which while a man toucheth hee is stung wit [...] [...]es: She [...] presenteth faire shapes, which proue but fading shadowes, shée proferr [...]th mountaines, and perhaps kéepeth promise, but the gaines of these golden Mines is losse & misery. Non [...] ro [...]e on Seianus horse, which got not mishap. None toucht the gold o [...] Tholossa, whom some [...]isaster did not assaile: neither hath any bée [...] [...]ayn [...]ed by fortune, which in time hath not béene crossed with some haplesse calamitie. I speake this by experience, which I [...] the Gods thou neuer try by proofe: for he onely is to be thought [...]ppy, whom the inconstant fa­uour of Fortune hath not made vnh [...]py. The Pict [...]re which thou seest heere, is the perfect counter [...]i [...] of her inconstant conditions, for she like to the Polype Fish, [...]neth her self into [...]ery obiect, [...]nd with the Came [...]ion taketh her whole delight in change, being sure in nothing but in this, that she is not sure at all. Which inconstancy af­ter I had known by too much proofe, I began to arme myself again [...] her guiles, and to count her f [...]ning flatt [...]ry, and her fro [...]nes of no force, not to accept her as a friend, but to despise her as a foe, and in [Page] despight of her fained deity, to oppose my selfe against her fickle pow­er, which I haue found the greatest shield to shrowde me from her se­cret iniuries. I haue left my Palace, and taken me a simple Cell, in the one I found often displeasure, but in the other neuer but conten­tation. From a Prince of the earth, I am become a Priest to the Gods, séeking onely by this obscure life to please my selfe, and dis­please Fortune: whose picture when I sée, I weep, that I was so fond, as to be subiect to such a seruile Dame, and I laugh, that at last I tri­umph both ouer mine own affections, & ouer Fortune. Thus friend, since thou hast heard the cause of my care, cease off to enquire far­ther in the case, passe from my Cell, and leaue me to my passions, for to procure my griefe, and not my gaine, were to offer me double losse. After he had vttered these words, perceiuing by his par [...]e that he was a Prince, I began with more reuerence to excuse my rashnesse, fra­ming my talke to this effect.

I am sorry (quoth I) if sorrow might be a mends for that which is amisse, that my ha [...]ty folly hath offended your highnesse: and that my poore pres [...]nce hath béene preiudiciall to your princely passions, but since the fault once committed may bee repented, but not reclai­med, I hope your highnesse will pardon my vnwitting wilfulnesse, and take, Had I wi [...], for an excuse of so sudden an offence, which granted, the desire I haue to heare of your strange hap, doth make me, passe manners, in being importunate with your Maiestie, to heare the tragicall chance of this your strange change. Well (quoth he) since thy d [...]sire is such, and time allowes me conue­nient leisur [...], sit downe, and thou shalt heare what trust there is to be giuen [...] incons [...] Fortun [...].

VNtil I waxt w [...]ary of m [...] di [...]deme, I was king of the famous Countrey of Denma [...]ke, wh [...]rin, after Bosphorus deceased, (for so was my father called) I [...] in happy prosperi [...]y, comming to the Crowne at the age of one a [...]d [...]entie yeeres, being so honoured of my subiects for my vertue, [...]nd so loued for my curtesie, as I did not onely gaine the heartes of th [...]m, but also wan the good will of strange [...]. I could not complaine [...] lacke, in that my greatest want was store I f [...]ared not the force of f [...]rrain foe [...], for I knew none but were my faithfull friends, I doubt [...] no mis-fortune, for I could sée n [...] way for mee to mishap: nay, if [...] had b [...]en wise, I might the more [Page] [...]aue f [...]ared misery, in that I was so fully pampered vp with felicity. But I p [...]ore wr [...]tch was not daunted with any dread, because I saw no present danger: I thought the sea being calme, there cou [...]d come no tempest: that from the cléere ayre could ensue no storme, that quiet ease was not the mother of dissention, and that where Fortune once tuned, in the strings could neuer be found any discord.

But O fond and infortunate Arbasto (for so I may be called:) thou now hast tried, though by haplesse experience, that when Nilu [...] filleth vp his bounds, ensueth a dearth: whē the Ang [...]lica is laden with most s [...]ed, then he dieth: when musick was heard in the capitol, then the Ro­mans were plagued with pestilence: when Circ [...]s proferred most gifts, shee present [...]d most guile, and when Fortune hath depriued thée of most care, then she meanes to drowne thée in the greatest calamitie. For as thus I safely floated in the seas of securitie, and bathed in the [...]treames of blisse, Fortune, thinking at length to giue me the mate, began thus to profer the che [...]ke. I had but one onely brother called T [...]baldo, whom forced by nature, I most intirely loued and liked, who soi [...]urned in Fraunce, as one desirous to sée the manners of strange Countries, and to furnish himselfe with all qualities fit for a worthy Gentleman. But on a sudden I happily receiued newes, that he was cowardly without cause slaine in the Court, which so appa­led me, as nature most cruelly exclaim [...]d against fortune, in so much, that contrary to the counsell of my Nobles, with a resolute mind [...]. I determined to inuade France, and either to bring the whole Realme to ruine, in reuenge, or else to hazard life & limme in the battel: well, no perswasion being able to driue me from this s [...]led determination, I caused my ships to be rigged, and with as m [...]h spéed as might bée, sailed into France with a great Nauie, wher [...] I had n [...] sooner la [...]ded my souldiers, but as a professed foe, crauing no other r [...]cempence for my brothers death but their de [...]truction. I [...] their borde [...]s, fired their forts, rased their Townes and [...]ties to the earth, vsing no mer­cy but thi [...], that hauing depriued th [...]m of their possessions, I also be­reaued them o [...] their liues. Pelorus hearing with what violence I had inuaded his land (for so the F [...]nch king was called) fearing that he was not able to withstand my fo [...]ce, séeing that Fortune so fauou­red my enterprise, passed spé [...]dily with his whole host vnto Orleance, whither I [...]asted being not greatly resisted, laying valiantly a strong slege to the Citie, which [...]fter I had diuers times assaulted, and so shaken the walles with Camion shot, that they were force to streng­ [...]hen them with n [...]w cou [...]term [...]es, Pelorus halfe daunted with my [Page] desperate attempts, coueted secretly to conclude a peace: to colo [...] therefore this his intent with a false shadow, he spéedily dispatched [...] Herald, to intreat a truce for thrée mon [...]ths, which being vnhappi [...] granted, and therefore vnhappily because granted, it was lawfull fo [...] them of Denmarke peaceably to passe into the Citie, and for them of Orleance quietly to come into our Campe. While thus the truc [...] con­tinued [...] I being desirous to take a view of the French Court, accom­panied with my Nobles, went to Pelorus, who willing to shew hi [...] martiall courage by vsing curtesie to his foe, gaue me very sumptu [...]u [...] and courteous entertainement. But alas such mischiefe ensued of this my fond desire, that death had beene thrice more welcome then such distresse. For Pelorus had onely two daughters, the eldest called My­rania, the youngest named Doralicia, so faire and well featured, as Venus would haue beene iealous if Adonis had liued to sée their beau­ties. But especially lo [...]ely Doralicia, and therefore more louely, because I so intirely loued her: For shee was so beautified with th [...] gifts of nature, and adorned with more then earthly perfection, a [...] she séemed to be framed by nature to blemish nature, and that beauty had skipt beyond her skill, in framing a péece of such curious worke­manship, for that which in her (respecting her other perfections) wa [...] of no price, would bee counted in others a pearle, her greatest want would in others be thought a store, so that if any thing lacked in her, it was not to be sought for in any earthly creature. This Doral [...]cia being appointed by vniust Fortune to bee the instrument of my fall, accompanied with her sister Myrania and other Ladies, came into the Chamber where he [...] father and I was at parl [...], whose gorgious pre­sence so appaled by s [...]ses, that I stood a [...]tonished, as if with Perseus shi [...]ld I had béene m [...]e a senselesse pi [...]ture. For as the Dormous [...] cannot shut her eyes as long as he lyeth in the beames of the Sunne, as the D [...]ere cannot c [...]s [...] them braying whe [...]e the [...]earbe M [...] ­ly groweth, so could not I but stare on the face of Doralicia, a [...] long as her beautie was such an heauenly obiect. Shee narrowl [...] marking my gazing [...]ookes, [...] [...]erceiued that I was gal [...]ed, and therefore to show how lightly sh [...] accounted of my liking [...] passed out of the Chamber with a coy and Courtly countena [...], but Myrani [...] as one perceiuing and pitty [...]ng my passions, séemed with her lookes to say in heart [...] A [...]basto, farewell.

These two Goddesses being gone, f [...]ling my mind somwh [...]t per­plexed, I tooke my leaue of Peloru [...], and departed. Comming home to my Tent, [...]raught with a thousand toyish fancies, I beganne to [Page] c [...]iecture what should bee the cause of these contrary motions, the [...]ect I felt, the occasion [...] could not finde, applying therefore a con­trary [...]alue to my sore, it did rather increase, than cure the m [...]ladie, for company was a corras [...]ue, not a comfort: and to be solitary, the [...]inke of all sorrow: [...]or then strange thoughts, v [...]acquaint [...]d passi­ons, pinching fancies, waking visions, & slumbring watchings, dis­quieted my head. Me thought I saw the counterfait o [...] Doralicia be­fore mine eies, then the harmony of her spéech sounded in mine eares: her look [...], her gestures, ye [...], all her action [...] were particularly deciphe­red by a secr [...]t imaginati [...]n. Wrapped thus in a labyrinth of endlesse fancies, when reason could not suppres [...] will, nor wisedome con­troll affection [...] I cast my cards, and found by manifest proofe, that the lunaticke fit which so distempered my brains, was that frantick pas­sion which fooles [...] Poets cal loue [...] which know [...]e, blaming my selfe of cowardise, y ^• beauty shold make me bend, I f [...]l at last into these terms.

Why A [...]basto, art thou so squemish that thou canst not sée Wine, but thou must surfet? canst thou not draw nye the fire and warm [...] thée? but thou must with Satyrus kisse it and burne thee? art thou so little master of thy affections, that if thou gaze on a picture, thou must with Pigmalion be passionate? canst thou not passe through Pa­phos, but thou must offer incense to Venus? doost thou thinke it in­iurie to Cupid to looke, if thou doost not loue? Ah fond foole, knowe this, fire is to be vsed, but not to be handled: the Barren flour [...] to be worne in the hand, not chawed in the mouth: the precious stone Echites to bee applied outwardly, and not to bee taken inwardly: and beautie is made to féed the eye, not to [...]etter the heart, wilt thou then swallow vp the bait which thou knowest to be [...]ane? w [...]lt thou hazard at that which cannot bee had without har [...], no, stretch not too farre, wade not too deepe, vse b [...]utie, but serue it not, shake the trée, but taste not of the fruite, [...] thou finde it too hard to bée disgested [...] Why? but beautie is a God, [...] will be obeyed, loue loo­keth to command, not to be conquered: [...] stroue but once with Venus, and she was vanquished: [...] sen [...]d Cupid, but he went by the worst: it is hard for thée [...] the Crab [...]e to swimme against the streame, or with the Salaman [...]r to striue again [...] the fire, for in wrastling with a fresh wound, thou shalt but make the sore more dang [...]ro [...]s. Yea but what fondne [...]se is this A [...]basto to s [...]th thy selfe [...]n [...]hy [...]olly? Thou didst come a Captaine, and wilt thou returne a [...]aptiue? thy intent was to conquer, not to bee vanquished, to fight [...]ith the La [...]nce, not to be [...]o [...]d with loue, to vse thy speare, not thy [Page] pen, to challenge M [...]rs, not to dally with Venus. How doost thou thinke to subdue Fraunce, which canst not rule thine owne affec­tions? Art thou able to quaile a kingdome, which canst not quell thin [...] own mind? no, it will be hard for thee to go in triumph, which art not so much as Lord of thy selfe. But A [...]basto, if thou wilt needs loue, vse it as a toy to passe away the time, which thou mayest take vp at thy lust, and lay downe at thine own [...] pleasure. Loue? why Arbasto, doost thou dr [...]ame, whom shouldest thou loue? Doral [...]cia? what thy foe? one that wisheth thy mishap, and partly prayeth to the Gods, for thy mis-fortu [...]e? no sure thou art not so fond.

And with that, as I vttered these wordes, such thoughts, such sighes, such sobs, such teares assailed me, as I was stricken dumb [...] with the extremitie of these hellish passions, sc [...]rce being able to draw my breath for a good space, till at last recouering my senses, I fell to my former sorrow in this sort.

Yes alas Arbasto, it is the luckl [...]sse lo [...]e of Doralici [...], and there­fore the more lucklesse because thou louest Doralicia, that hath thus inchaunted thy affections. She is not thy friend whom thou mayest hope to get, but thy foe, whom thou art sure not to gaine: for doest thou thinke shee will requite thy merit with méed, or repay thy lo [...]e with liking? no, she hateth thée Arbasto, as sworne Pelorus foe, [...]nd her enemy. Can sh [...] loue thee which s [...]ekest her fathers life: nay, did she loue, yet could she thinke thou dost like, which layest s [...]ge to her Citie? no, vnlesse by loue she were blinded with too much loue. Sith then to fancy thy foe, is with the Co [...]katrice to peck against the s [...]éele, subdue thy affections, be master of thy mind, vse Will as thy subi [...]ct, not as thy soueraig [...], so mayest thou triumph and laugh at Cupid, saying: Fond [...] I was in loue, what then.

I had [...]o [...] sealed [...]p [...]hese secret meditations with a sorrow­full sigh, but least being so [...]tary I should fall into farther dumps, I went out of my Tent to passe away the time with some pleasant par [...], thinking this the fittest meanes to driue away idle fancies, ho­ping th [...]t h [...]t loue would grow cold, that the greatest [...]a [...]in was but a blaze, & that loue most violent [...] in me was euer least permanent.

B [...]t i [...] you would see, you must vnderstand how Loue and For­tune can play false when they list. I [...]as not so drowne [...] in de­sires towards Doralicia, as poore Myr [...]nia burned with affection t [...] ­wards [Page] me. For Venus willing to shew she was a woman, by her wil­full contrarieties, so fier [...]d her fancies with the forme of my feature, as the poore Lady was perplexed with a thousand sundry passions, one whil [...] she sought with hate to rase out loue, but that was with the Déere to féed against [...]he winde: another while she deuised which way to obtaine h [...]r desire: but then alas she heaped coales vpon her head, for she saw no sparke of hop [...] to procure so good hap. Driuen thus into sundry dumpes, she fell at last into these termes.

Alas Myrania (quoth she) happy, yea, thrice happy are those maides which are borne in the Isle Meroc, which [...]n their virginitie are suffe­red to see none but him whom they shall marry, and being wiues are forbidden by the law to sée any man but their husband, vntill they be past fiftie. In this country Myrania, beautie is vsed as a naturall gift, not honoured as a supernaturall God, and they loue onely one, because loue cannot force them to like any other: so that they sowe their loue in ioy, and reape it in pleasure. Would God thou hadst beene borne in this soyle, or brought vp in the same sort, so shouldest thou haue triumphed ouer beautie as a slaue, which now leadeth thee as a seruile captiue.

O infortunate Myran [...]a, hast thou so little force to withstand fancy, as at the first alarum thou must yéeld to affection? canst thou not look with Salmacis, but thou must loue? canst thou not s [...]e with Smylax, but thou must sigh? canst thou not view Narcissus with Eccho [...] but thou must be vowed to his beautie? Learne, learne fond foole by o­thers mishaps to beware: for she that loueth in hast, oft times, nay, alw [...]ies repenteth at leisure. The Hippians anointing thēselues with the fat of the fish Mugr [...], passe thorow most furious flames without any per [...]l: the people called P [...]ilii, as long as they sacrif [...]ce vnto Vest [...], can be hurt with no venimous Serpents. Telephus as hee wore the counterfait of Pallas shield, was in [...]uln [...]rable, & thou as long as thy mind is fraught with the chast thogh [...]e of Diana, canst neuer be fired with the haples flame of Venus: arme thy selfe with reason, and thou maist passe thorow Cytheria without danger, l [...]t thy wil and wit b [...] dir [...]cted with aduised counsell, & thou maist say: Cupid, I defie thée.

Ah Myrania, things are soone promised, but not so quickly perfor­med: it is easie to sound the victory, but passing hard to obtain the cō ­quest: all can say, I would ouercome, but few or none returne with triumph Beautie is ther [...]fore to be obeyed, because it is beauty, and loue to be [...]eared of men, b [...]cause honored of the Gods. D [...] reason abide the brunt, when beautie bids the battell? can wis [...]dome win [Page] the field, when loue is Captaine? No, no, loue is without law, and therfore aboue all law, honoured in heauen, feared in earth, and a ve­ry terror to the infernall Ghostes.

Bow then vnto that Myrania, whereunto lawlesse necessity doth bend, be not so fond, as with Xerxes to bind the Ocean sea in fetters: fight not with the Rascians against the winde: séeke not with them of Scyrus, to shoot against the stars: contend not with Niobe against Lato [...], nor striue not with Sapho against Venus, for loue being a Lord lookes to c [...]mmand by power, and to [...]e obeyed by force.

Truth Myrania, but what then, to loue is easie, and perhaps good, but to like w [...]ll is hard and a doubtfull chance: fancy thy fill (fond foole) so thou bend not thy affection to thy fathers foe: for to lou [...] him who séekes his [...]e, is to war against nature & Fortune. Is there [...]on [...] worthy to bee thy spheere but Arbasto, the cursed enemy of thy coun­try? can none win thy good will, but the bloudy wretch, who séeketh to bréed thy Fathers bane? Can the [...]agle & the bird Osiphage build in one trée? wil the Faulken & the Done, couet to sit on one pearch? wil the Ape & the Beare be tied in one tedder? wil the Fox & the lamb lye in one den? no [...] they want reason, & yet nature suffers them not to liue against nature: wilt thou then be so wilful or witlesse, as hauing reason to guide nature, yet to be more vnnaturall then vnreasonable creatures? be sure if thou fall in this, thou st [...]iuest aga [...]nst the Gods, and in str [...]uing wi [...]h them, looke for a most sharpe reuenge.

T [...]sh I know this, but hath not loue set downe his sentence, & shal I appeale from his censure? shal I deny that which the destini [...]s haue decréed? no, for though Cydippa rebelled for a time, yet she was forst at last to make suit t [...] Venus for a pardon, & I may séeke to hate Ar­basto, but neuer find [...]hers to begin to mislike him. And with that, such flery pa [...]ion [...] o [...]ressed her, as shee was faine to send forth scal­ding sighs, som [...]hat to ease her enflamed fancy, which being sorrow­fully sobbed forth [...] shee then began afresh to powre forth her pittifull complaints, if [...]er sister Doralicia, being accompanied with other gen­tlewomen, had not dri [...] her [...]t of these dumps, whom shée no soo­ner spied, but leauing her passions [...]he wared pleasant, couering care with conceits, and a mourning h [...]art with a merry countenance, least her sorrowfull lookes, might giu [...] the company occasion to coniecture somewhat was amisse. But I alas, which felt the furious flames of fancie to broile inc [...]ssantly within my breast, could not so cu [...] ­ningly dis [...]mble my passions, but all my Peers saw I was perplex­e [...] for whereas before this sudden chaunce, Pelorus mis-fortun [...] [Page] [...]rocured my mirth, now the soile which I reaped by affection draue me to a deeper misery. In the day I spent the time in solitary dumps, in the night aff [...]cted thoughts and visions suffered me scarce to slum­ber: for alas there is no greater enemy to the minde, than in loue to liue without hope, which doubt was the sum of my endlesse sorrow, that in seeing my selfe fettered, I could sée no hope at all of my frée­dome: yet to mittigate my misery, I thought to walke from the Campe toward the Citie, that I might at the least féed my eye with the s [...]ght of the place wherein the Mistresse of my heart was harbou­red, taking with me onely for company a Duke of my Countrey cal­led Ege [...]io, vnto whom I durst best commit my secret affaires, who noting my vnaccustomed passions, coniecturing the cause of my care by the outward effects, coueting carefully to apply a salue to my sore, and to driue me from such drows [...]e thoughts, wakened me from my dumps with this pleasant deuice.

Sir (quoth hee) I haue often maruelled, and yet cannot cease to muse at the madnesse of those men, whom the common people thinke to honor with the glorious title of louers, who when rashly they pur­chase their owne mishap in placing their affe [...]ion, where either their disability, or the destinies deny successe to their suites, do either passe their daies in endlesse dolor, or preuent miserie by vntimely death. If these passionate patients listned a little to Venus all [...]ements, as I to Cupids flatteries, few men should haue cause to call the Gods vn­iust, or women cruell, for I think of loue as Mylciades the Athenian did, who was wont to say, that of all the plagues wherwith the gods did af [...]ict mortal men, loue was the greatest, in that they sought that as an heauenly blisse, which at last they found their fatall bane.

[...]earing Ege [...]io thus cunningly and cou [...]ly to touch mee at the quicke, I thought to dally with him in this [...]se.

Why Egerio, doest thou count it a madnes [...]e to loue, or doest thou think him rash which yeeldeth willing [...] [...]o it, knowest thou not that loue i [...] diuine, and therefore comm [...]deth by power, and cannot be resisted? I am not of that mind with Mylciad [...]s, that loue is a plague, but rather I thinke he is fauoured of the gods and is a happy louer.

Tru [...]h (quoth hee) but who is happ [...] in loue? he that hath the happie [...] successe? no, for I count him most vnhappy which in loue is most h [...]ppy.

Why then Egerio (quoth I) thou think [...]st him v [...]ha [...]p [...] that [...]ée loueth.

Or else may it please your highnesse (quoth he) I should thinke a­misse: [Page] for shall I count him fortu [...]ate which for one dram of prospe­rity, reapeth a whole pound of misery? or shall I [...]stéeme that louer happy, whose greatest gaine is but gol [...]en griefe? nay that is neuer to be called pleasure, which is s [...]uced with paine, nor that good lucke who [...] guerdeon is losse.

Sith Egerio (quoth I) thou doest thus br [...]adly blaspheme against Cupid, tell me why thou thinke [...] ill of lou [...].

Because sir (quoth hee) it is lou [...], being such a frenzy which so infecteth the mindes of men, as vnder the taste of Nactar, they are poysoned with the water of Stix, for as hee which was charmed by Lara, sought still to heare her inchantment, or as the D [...]ere after once hee brouseth on the [...]amariske trée, will not be driuen away till h [...] dyeth: so our amorous louers haue their senselesse senses so besott [...]d with the power of this lasciu [...]ous God, that they count not them­selues happy, but in their supposed vnhappinesse, b [...]ing at most ease in disqui [...]t, at greatest re [...] when they are most troubled, seeking contentation in care, delight in misery, and hunting gréedily after that, which alway [...]s bringeth endlesse harm [...].

This is but your sentence Egerio (quoth I) but what reason haue you to confirme your censur [...]?

Such (quoth he) as your highnesse can neither dislike nor infring: for the first step to loue is the losse of libertie, tying the minde to the will of her, who either too curious, little respecteth his sute, or too co [...], smally regardeth his seruice, yet hee is so blinded with a [...]o [...]le of fond affection, that hee co [...]nteth her sullennesse sobernesse, her vaine cha­rine [...], vertuous chastitie: if she be wanton, hée counteth her wit [...]ie, if too familiar, court [...]ous; so besotted with the drugs of doting loue, that euery fault is vertue, and though euery string be out of tune, yet the musick cannot be found amisse: resembling Tamantus the Pain­ter [...] who shadowed the worse pictures with the freshest colours.

The paines that Louers f [...]le for hunting after losse, if their mindes w [...]re not charmed with some secret inchantment, were a­ble either to keepe [...]eir [...]i [...]des from being in [...]am [...]d, or else to coole desire being [...] kindled: for the dayes are spent in thoughts [...]he nights in dr [...]mes, both in danger, either beg [...]ing vs of that wee had, or promising vs that we haue not. The head fraught with [...]an­cies, ster [...] with zeale, troubled with both: yea so many inconueni­ [...]nc [...]s w [...]i [...]e vpon loue, as to recken them all were infinite, [...] to taste but one of them intolerable, being alwayes begun with gr [...]e, con­ti [...] with sor [...]ow, and ended with [...]eath: for it is a paine shadowed [Page] with pleasure, and i [...]y stuffed with misery: so that I conclude, that as none euer saw the Altars of Basyris without sorrow, nor banque­ted with P [...]olus without surfetting: so as impossible it is to deal [...] with Cupid, and not incurre either spéedy death, or endlesse danger.

As I was ready to reply to Eg [...]rios reasons, drawing to a small thick [...]t of trées, which was hard adioyning to the City, I spied where some of the French Dames were f [...]iendly [...]tting about a cléere foun­t [...]in, of whom after I had taken a narrow view, easily percei [...]ed they wer [...] three Ladies (accompanied with one Page) namely Myrania, Doralicia, and their Nurse called Madame Vecchia, which sudden sight so appalled my senses, as if I had beene appointed a new Iudge to the three goddesses in the valley of Id [...] [...] yet seeing before my eyes the mistresse of my thoughts, and the Saint [...]nto whom I did owe my deuotion, I began to take courage, thinking [...]hat by this fit op­portunitie, Loue and Fortune would fauour my enterprise, willing therefore not to let slip so good an occasion, I boldly paced to them, whom I saluted in this sort.

Faire Ladi [...]s, the s [...]ght of your surpassing beauties so dazled mine [...]yes, as at the first I was in doubt, whether I should honour you as heauenly Nymphes, or salut [...] you as earthly creatures: but as I was in this dumpe. I readily called to minde the figure of your diuine fac [...]s, which being at my comming to your fathers Courte by some secret influence most surely imprinted in my fancy, I haue hi­therto, without any sparke of forgetfulnes perfectly retained (féeling [...]uer s [...]nce in my hart such strange p [...]s [...]ions) an vnaccustomed deuo­ [...]on to your beautie and vertues, as I would thin [...]e the Gods and [...]ort [...]ne did fauour mee, if either I might f [...]nd [...] [...]cc [...]sion to manifest my affection, or liue to doe you seruice.

Doralic [...]a hearing mee thus strangely to salu [...] her, although shée saw her sel [...]e in the hands of her Fath [...] [...] [...] yet nothing dismayed, with a coy countenance, she gaue me [...] [...]abbish answere.

Sir (quoth she) if at the first looke [...] for Nymphes, by the perfection of our di [...]n [...] beautie, [...] that e [...]ther your women in Denmark are very fo [...] or your [...]lemish [...] since your comming into France: for we [...]now our imper [...]ons far vn­worthy of such dissembled praise. But Diomedes smiled most when he pretended greatest mischiefe: Scyron entertaine [...] his guests best, when he meant to intreat them worst: Lycaon feasted Iupiter when he sought to betray him: the Hiena euer fauneth at her pre [...]: [...]he Sy­ren [...] sing when the [...] meane to enchaunt: Circes is most [...] [Page] when she presenteth poyson: and so you, in praising our beautie séeke to spoile our bloud: in [...]xtolling our perfec [...]ion, to make vs most im­perfect, in wishing openly out weale, s [...]cre [...]ly to worke ou [...] death and destruction. For your seruice you offer vs, wee so much the more mis­ [...]ke it, for his sake that makes the proffer: for we are not so inueigled with loue, or so sencelesse to conceiue, but that we thinke he little fa­uoureth the ste [...]s, that cutteth dow [...]e the old stock, he smally res [...]ec­t [...]th the twig, that tendereth not the root, & he ligh [...]ly loueth the [...]hild, that deadly hateth the f [...]ther, Pol xena counted Achill [...]s a fl [...]tterer, because he continued the siege against Troy, & Cressid for sooke Troy­ [...]us because he warred against the Grecians, nor can wee count him our pr [...]uy fri [...]nd, which is our open foe.

Why Madame (quoth I) did not Tarpeia fauour Tati [...]s thou [...]h a foe vnto Rome? did not Scylla respect Mynos thogh he besieged Ni [...]us?

Truth sir (quoth Myrania) but the gaines they got was p [...]rpetu­all shame and e [...]dlesse discredit, for the one was slaine by the [...]abynes, the other re [...]ected by Mynos. The yong Faunes cannot [...]bide to looke on the Tyger: the Halciones are no so [...] nor hatched but they [...] th [...] Eagle. Andromache would neu [...]r trust the faire speeches [...]f Py [...]us, nor Dydo laugh when shee saw Hiarbas smile: where the partie is knowne to [...]e a professed foe, there suspicious hate ensueth of course: and fo [...]d were that person that would thinke well of [...]m, that pro­ [...]e [...]h poyson though in a golden pot.

Madame (quoth I) I know it is hard where mistr [...]st is harboured to infer beliefe, or to procure credit where his truth is called [...] que­stion: but I wish no be [...]ter successe to happen to my selfe, than in [...]art I doe imagine to y [...] all, swea [...]ing by the gods that I do honor your beauties and [...]tue [...] so much, that if I had wonne the conquest, and you were my ca [...]ues, yet would I honour you a [...] my soueraig [...]es, and obey you as a louing sub [...]ct.

But I pray God, qu [...]th [...]me Vecchia, you haue neuer occasi­on to shew vs such fauo [...]r [...] [...]o [...] we cause to sta [...] [...] your [...]tes [...]e: [...]or I doubt we should [...] your [...]lowing heat turn [...]d to a chilling cold, and your gre [...] promises to sm [...] [...]rformance.

In the [...]an time (and with that she tooke Myrania and Doralicia by the hands) wee will leaue you to [...]et [...]rne [...] the Campe, and wee will [...] to the Citie, willing to g [...]ue you [...] [...]ankes for your good will, when we find you a friend and not be [...]o [...]

Nay [...]adame (quoth I) not so, for constr [...]e of my m [...]ning how you please, or accept of my company how you list, I will not bee [...]o [Page] discourteous to leaue you so sl [...]nderly guided, as in the gard of this little Page. And with that taking Doralicia by the hand, wil­ling not to let slip so good opportunity, I began to Court her in this manner.

The choise is hard Madame, where the party is compelled either by silence to die with griefe, or by vn [...]olding his minde, to li [...]e with shame, yet so swéete is the desire of life, and so bitter the pass [...]ons of loue, that I am enforced to preferre an vnseemely sute, before an vn­ [...]imel [...] death. Loth I am to speak, and in dispaire I am to speed: For considering what loue is, I faint, and thinking how I am counted a foe, I feare. But sigh where loue commandeth, there it is [...]olly to re­sist, so it is Madame, [...]hat intending to be victor, I become a vassall, co [...]ing to conquer, I am caught a captiue, séeking to bring other into thrall, I haue lost mine owne libertie. Your heauenly beauty h [...]th brought me into bondage, your exquisite perfection hath snared my fréedome, your vertuous qualities haue subdued my minde, and onely your curtesie may frée me from car [...], or your cr [...]eltie crosse me with calamitie. To recount the [...]rrowes I haue sustained since I first was inueigled with thy beauty, or the seruice I haue vowed vn­to thy vertue. s [...]nce thou [...] count by talke, though neuer so true, but meere toyes, were rather to bréed in thée an admiration then a beléefe. But this I added for the ti [...]e, which the end shall [...]ry for a truth, that so faithfull is my affection, and so loyall is my loue, that if thou take not pit [...]y of my pass [...]ons, either my life shall be too short, or my misery too long.

Doralicia hearing att [...]nti [...]ely my talke, o [...]t times changed her co­lour, as one in great choller, being so inflamed [...]ith a melancholike [...]inde of hate, as shee was not of a long time able to [...]er one word, yet at last with a face full of fury, shee [...]urst forth in [...] th [...]se despight­full termes.

Why Arbasto (quoth shee) art thou of late become franticke, or doe [...] tho [...] thinke me in a frenzy: [...]ast thou beene bitten with the ser­pent Amphisbena which procureth m [...]enes, o [...] do [...] thou suppose me fraught with some lunaticke [...], for thy speech m [...]keth me thinke, ey­ther thou art [...]roubled with the one, or that thou counts me combred with the other [...] if this thy poysoned parle were in [...]est, it was too [...]road, wey [...]ng the case; if in earnest, too bad considering the person: for to talke [...]f peace amidst the pikes, sheweth either a co [...]ard, or a counterfait: & to sue for loue by hate, either frenzy or fo [...]y. It is a [...]ad Hare ( Arbasto) that will be caught with a Taber, [...] gréedy fish [Page] that commeth to a bare booke, a blind G [...]se that runneth to the For­es sermon [...]nd she a louing foole that stoopeth to her enemies lure. No, no, thinke mee not so fond, or at least hope not to find me so foolish, as with Phryne to fancie Cec [...]ops, with Harpalice to like Archemerus, with Scilla to loue Mynos, with carelesse Minion [...] so farre to forget my honor, my honesty, my parents, and my Country, as to loue, nay not deadly to hate him which is a foe to the lea [...] of these: for experi­ence t [...]acheth m [...], that the fairer the stone is in the Toades head, the more pes [...]ilent is the poyson in her bowels, the brig [...]t [...]r the Serpent [...] scales be, the more inf [...]ctious is her breath; and the talke of an enemy, the more it is seasoned with delight, the more it sauore [...]h of despight, c [...]se then to séeke for lo [...], where t [...]ou shalt [...]nde nothing but hate, for assure thy self [...], [...] thou didst fan [...]y as faithfully, as thou doest flat­ter fal [...]y, yet the guerdeon for thy loue should bee onely this, that I will pray incessantly to the Gods, in thy life to p [...]st [...]r th [...]e with earth­ly [...]orments, and after death to plague thee with hellish tortures.

Although these bitter blastes of Doralicia, had béene a sufficient coo [...]ing card [...] to quench fond aff [...]ction, yet as the wa [...]er causeth the sea­coale to burne more freshly, so her despightfull termes farre more in­flamed my [...]re, that I made her this fri [...]dly reply.

Alas (Madame) weigh my case with equitie: if you hate me, as I am [...]oe to Pelorus, yet fauour me as I am friend to Doralicia. If you loath mee as a conqueror of your countrey, yet pittie mee as I am a captiue to your beautie. If you vouchsafe not to listen to the lure of your enemy, y [...]t heare the passionate complaints of a perplexed lo­uer, who leading others in triumph, yet himselfe liueth in most hap­l [...]sse seruitude.

If I haue done a [...]isse Doralicia, I will make amends: if I haue committed a fault, I will both requite it, and recompence it: a [...] I haue béene thy fathers [...]oe [...] so I will be his faithfull friend, as I haue sought his bale, I will procure his blisse: yea, I will goe against the haire in all things, so I may please [...]hee in any thing.

But as I was about to make a longer discours [...], shee cut mo off in this wise.

In faith [...] (quoth shee) so well doe I like you, that you [...]annot more displease mee, then in s [...]eking to please [...] for if I knew no o­ther caus [...] to hate th [...]e, yet this [...] su [...]ise, that I cannot but dis­like thee: he therefore my fathers friend, or his foe, like h [...], or ha [...] him, yet this assure thy selfe that I will n [...] loue thee. And with that she flung from me in a great cha [...]. Reply I could not, for by th [...] [Page] w [...]e were come to the gates of the [...]i [...]ie, where (though vnwilling) I tooke my leaue of them in this sort.

I am sor [...]y [...]adies that such is my lucke, and so vnh [...]py is my lot, that in offering my selfe a companion, I haue greatly offended you wi [...]h my company: yet sith I cannot striue against chance, I thinke my selfe happy that Fortune hath honoured me with the fru [...] ­tion of your presence, hoping when time shall try my words no tales but truth, you will at last make me amends with cryiu [...] peccaui: in the meane while I commit you to the tuition of the Gods, praying Fortune rather to plagu [...] me with all mishap, then to crosse you with any mischance.

The thankes I had for this my friendly curtesie [...] was a coy dis­dainfull looke of Doralicia, and a c [...]urlish vale of the old trot Vecchia, but Myrania (as one stung with the prick [...] of fancy) [...]ad me farewell, w [...]th a more curious gloze.

I [...] sir (quoth she) the secret intent of your friendship, had béene a­greeable to the outward manner of your curtes [...]e: [...]ee had ere this yeelded you great thankes for your company: but sith you gréet vs with a Iudas [...]e kisse, wee thinke wee haue small cause to gratifie you for your kindnes: notwit [...]standing, least you should accuse vs whol­ly of discourtes [...]e, we say, we thanke you, whatsoeuer we thinke, and with that she cast on me such a louing looke, as she séemed to play [...]oth to depart.

THey now returning to the Court, and I ret [...]ring to the Campe, f [...]ling my selfe déepely perplexed, yet as much as I could dissem­bled my passions, willing in loue n [...]t to bee counted a louer, ie [...]ing therefore with Eger [...]o, I thus began to dr [...] him on.

How now Egerio, hath not the beauty of these [...]aires Ladies, brought you from yo [...]r fond [...]? will you not [...]ee content for blaspheming Loue, in pennance to carry a burning [...]ggot before Cupid? me thought your eyes were gazing, wheresoeuer your heart was gadding: but tell mee in good troth [...] is not Doralicia worthy to bee loued?

Yes sir (quoth he) if she were not Doralicia, for as shee is beau [...]full, she is to be liked of all, but as she is Pelorus daughter, not to [Page] desired of Arbasto, least in seeking to gaine her loue, he get that which he least looked for.

Why Egerio, what ill lucke can ensue of loue, when I meane not to ven [...]ure but vpon trust, nor to trust without tryall?

Such as happened to Achilles by Polexen [...], and yet he feared Pria­mus. But alas [...]ir, I sigh to thinke, and I sorrow to s [...]e that reason should yeeld to aff [...]ction, liberty to lo [...]e, freedome to fancy, that Ve­nus should beare the target, and Mars the dista [...]te: that Omphale should handle the club, and Hercules the spindle: that Alexander should [...]r [...]ch, and Campaspe be coy: that a warlike minde should yeeld to a little wauering beauty, and that a Prince whose prowesse could not be subdued, should by lou [...] become subiect at the f [...]st shot.

What Egerio (quoth I) knowest thou not that he whom no mor­tall c [...]eature can controll, loue can command, that no dignitie is able to [...]st Cupids deitie? Achilles was inuulnerable, yet wounded by fancie: Hercules not to be conqu [...]red of any, yet quickly vanquished by [...]ffection: Mars able to resist Iupiter, but not to withstand beauty. Loue is not onely kindled in the eye by desire, but ingrauen in the minde by destiny, which neither reason can eschew, nor wisedome expell.

The more pitty (quoth hee) for poore men, and greater impietie in the Gods, that in giuing loue free libertie, they granted him a lawl [...]se priuiledge. But sith Cupid will be obeyed, Arbasto is willing to be obedient, would God loue had either aymed [...]isse, or else had not m [...]de Doralicia the marte.

I not willing that Egerio should bee priuy to my passions, told him that what I spo [...]e was in iest, and that if euer I did fancy, I would vse loue as the Persians did the Sunne, who in the morning honor it as a God, and at noon [...]ti [...]e curse it as a diuell. Concealing thus my care, the couered smokes burst in [...]o great flames, that com­ming to my Tent, I was f [...]rst to cast my selfe vpon my bed, where I sobbed forth sorrowfully these words.

Alas Arbasto, how art thou perplexed, thou both li [...]est in ill hap [...] and louest with out hope: thou burn [...] with desire, and art cooled wi [...]h disdaine: thou art bidden to the f [...]ast by loue, and art b [...]aten with the spit by beauty. But what then, doest thou count it ca [...]e which thou sufferest for Doralicia, who shameth Venus for her hue, and staineth Di [...]na for her chastitie? Yea but A [...]basto, the more beautie she [...]ath, the more [...]r [...]e, & the more vertue, the more precisenesse. None must play [...]n Mercuries pipe, but O [...]pheus: none rule Luci [...]r, but Ph [...]e­bus: [Page] none weare Venus in a tablet but Alexander, nor none i [...]o [...] Do­ralicia, but such an one as farre exc [...]edeth th [...]e in person and paren­ [...]age: thou seest she hath denied thy su [...]e, disdained thy seruice, light­ly respected thy loue, and smally regarded thy liking, onely promising this, while she liues to be thy professed f [...]e. And what then fo [...]d foole, wi [...]t thou shrinke for an Aprill showre? knowest thou not that a de­niall is a grant, and a gentle answere a flattering sl [...]ut: that the more they s [...]eme at the first to loath, the more they loue at the last. Is not Venus painted catching the ball with her hands, w [...]ch shee seemeth to spurne with her [...]eet? Doth not the Mirre trée being h [...]wen, yéeld no say, which not moued powreth forth [...]rrup: and women being w [...] ­ed, deny that, which of themselues they most earnestly desire.

The stone Sandrasta is not so hard, but being heat in the fire, it may be wrought: no Iuory so [...]ough, but seasoned with Su [...]ho, it may be ingrauen, no hawke so haggard, which in time may not be called to the lure: nor no women so wilfull, which by some meanes may not be wonne. Hope the best then and be bold, for Loue and For [...]une careth not for cowards.

Nay tush Arbasto, what needest thou pine thus in h [...]plesse passions, or séeke for that with sorrow, which thou mayest obtaine with a small sute, raise vp thy siege, graunt but conditions of peace, shew but a friendly countenance to Pelorus, and hee neither will nor dare deny thee his daughter Doralicia. Do [...] this then Arbasto, nay I would it [...] and that with spéed, for now I agrée to Tully that it is good: Iniquis­simam pacem iustissi [...]o bello anteponer [...].

Well, being resolued vpon this point, I felt my minde disburthe­ned of a thousand cares, wherewith before I was cl [...]gged, féeding my selfe with the hope of that pleasure, which [...]en ininioyed should re­compence my former paine.

But alas, poore Myrania could not féele one minute of such ease, for she vncessantly turned the stone with Sysiphus, rolled on the whe [...]le with Ixion, and filled the bottomlesse tub [...] with Belydes, in so much that when she could [...]nd [...] no [...]eanes to mittigate her malady, she fel into these bitter complaints.

Ah My [...]ania, ah wretched wench My [...]ania, how art thou without reason, which sufferest reason to yeeld vnto appetite, wisedome vnto sensuall will, and a free mind vnto seruile loue: but I perceiue when the Iuie riseth, it wreatheth about the [...]l [...]e: when the [...]p grow­eth high, it bat [...] need of a pole, and when virgins war in yeeres, they follow that which belongeth to their youth. Loue, loue, yea but they [Page] loue expecting some good hap, and I alas both loue and liue without all hope, for Arbasto is my fo [...], and yet if he were my friend, he liketh not me, he looketh onely vpon Doralicia. Sith then Myrania thou art pinched, & hast none to pittie thy passions, dissemble thy loue, though it shorten thy life: for better it were to dye with griefe, than li [...] with shame. The spunge is full of water, yet it is not séene. The lea [...]e of the trée Alpina though it be wet, looketh alwayes dry, & a wise louer be she neuer so much tormented, beh [...]ueth her self as though she were not touched. Yea, but fire cannot bee hidden in the Flax without smoake, nor musicke in the bosome without smell, nor loue in the breast without suspicion. Why then s [...]eke some meanes to manifest thy loue to Arbasto: for as the stone Draconites can by no meanes be polished, vnlesse the Lapidarie burne it, so thy minde can by no me­dicine be cured, vnlesse Arbasto ease it: alas Arbasto swéet Arbasto, And with that she fetcht such a groaning sigh, that one of her maides came into the chamber, who by her presence putting her from her pas­sions, sate so long by, till tyred with drous [...]e thoughts shee fell into a slumber.

Fortune frowning thus vpon her, and [...]auning vpon mee, I set my foote on the fairest sands, although at last I [...]o [...]nd them most fickle, thinking I must néedes tread the measures right, when For­tune piped the daunce, but though I threw at all, yet my chance was hard, for Pelorus tri [...]ling for truce, pretended treason: making a shew of feare, sought subtilly how to ouerthrow me by deceit, saying, in ruling of Empires there is required as great policie as prowesse, in in gou [...]rning an estate, close crueltie doth more good than open cle­mencie: for the obtaining of a kingdome, as well mischiefe, as mercy is to be practised, that better he were to commit an inconu [...]nience in breaking his oath, than suffer a mischiefe by kéeping his promise: set­ting downe the staffe therefo [...]e in this secure periu [...]ie, thus it fell out.

AFter two or thrée daies were passed, accompanied onely with Ege [...]o, & a few of my guard, I went to Orleance, determining both to conclude a peace, and to demaund Dolaricia in marriage: where no sooner arriued, and entred in at the gates of the City, but I found Pelorus and all his men in Armes, which sight so appaled [Page] my senses, that I [...] as one trans-formed, fearing that which pre­sently I found tru [...]: for Pelorus hauing his force inflamed with furi­ous choller, commanded his Captaines to lay hold on me, and to car­rie me to close prison, swearing that no lesse than the losse of life should mittiga [...]e his furie.

And raging in this choller, after he had lodged me vp in Lymbo, he went with all his army to the Campe, where finding my souldiers se­cure, as men little doubting of such misfortune, he made such a mon­strous and mercile [...]e slaughter, as of fiftie thou [...]and he left [...]ew a [...]ue, t [...]ose which [...]emained he plagued with all kind o [...] slauerie: returning [...]om with his shamelesse triumph, he commanded that in the midst of the Ci [...]ie there should be made a great scaffold, whereupon within t [...]nne daies I should be executed: these heauie and haplesse newes be­ing come to mine eares, such sorr [...]wfull passions perplexed my mind, as a [...]ter fl [...]ud [...] of brinish t [...]a [...]es, I burst forth into these bi [...]ter termes.

O infortunate Arbasto (quoth I) art thou not worthy of this mis­ha [...] which wilfully sought thine owne miserie? canst thou accuse the Gods, which didst striue against the Gods? canst thou condemne [...]ortune, which hast warred against nature and Fortune? No, no, in suffering reason to yeeld vnto appeti [...]e, wisedome vnto will, and wit vnto affection, thou hast procured thine owne death, and thy soul­diers destruction. Loue, yea, loue it is that hath procured thy se [...]e, beautie that hath bred thy bale: fancie hath giuen thee the [...]o [...]le, and thine owne witlesse wil hath wrought thy owe: the more is thy pain, and the lesse thou art to be pittied: was ther [...] none to like but Dora­licia? none to chuse but thy foe? none to loue but th [...] enemy? O vile wretch fraught with carelesse folly.

And [...]ith that, [...] I was readie to exclaime again [...] my cursed de­stinie, I heard the prison doore [...]pen, where I saw presently to enter, My [...]ania, Doralicia [...] and [...]adame V [...]cchia, who seeing me s [...]t in such sorrowfull dumps, began to smile at my [...]olor, and to laugh at my mishap, which wilfully thrust my sel [...] into such miserie, thinking therfore to aggrauate my griefe by r [...]bbing afresh my sore, Doralicia began to gall me on this sort.

Hearing Arbasto (quoth she) that you were come to pros [...]cute your s [...]te playing the good Captaine, that for the first foyle giuen not ouer the f [...]eld, I thought good to giue you a smiling looke, in recompence o [...] your fl [...]ttering loue, least if I should not be so courteous to so kinde a Gentleman, th [...] world should account me [...]ngratefull.

[Page]It is truth [...] (quoth Myrania) it seemes hee is a passing amo­rous louer: but it is pittie he hath very ill lucke: he chooseth his chaf­ [...]r [...], but yet is an vnskilfull chapman, for if he buy at such an vn­reasonable rate, he is like to liue by the losse.

Tush (Madame Vecchia) he playeth like the Dragon, who sucking bloud out of the Elephant, killeth him, and with the same poysoneth her selfe: so Arbasto, seeking to betray others, is himselfe taken in the trap: a iust r [...]ward for so v [...] [...]ealing and a [...]t [...]euenge for so [...]retchlesse an enemy.

And yet (quoth Doralicia) his purpose hath taken small place: for whatsoeuer his minde was, his malice hath wanted might, wherein he resembleth the Serpent Porphirius, who is full of poyson, but be­ing toothlesse, hurteth none but himselfe. Surely whatsoeuer his chance be, he [...] hath made a very good choice: for he preferreth sweete loue befor [...] [...]itter death, and the hope of euerlasting fame, before the feare of momentary mis-fortune: hee shall now for his constancy be [...] canonized in Denmarke for a saint, and his subiects may boast and say, that A [...]basto our king died for loue.

Egerio seeing that extremity of gri [...]er me to vt­ter one word, not able any longer to abide these [...]cumps, crost her with this ch [...]lericke reply.

Gentlewoman (quoth he) although I so terme you, rather to shew m [...] own curtesie, than to decipher your conditions, it seemeth nur­ture hath taught you very few manners, or nature affoorded ve­ry small mo [...]y, that seeing one in distresse, you should laugh at his dolor, and where the partie is crossed with mishap, you would with bitter taunts increase his misery: if he be your fo [...], hee hath now the foyle, he is taken in the snare, his life hangeth in the ballance.

Though your father [...]ee without pi [...]tie, yet in that you are a wo­man, be not without pitty. Hate him if you please as he is your e [...]e­my, but despise him not as hee i [...] Arbasto, a king, and your haplesse louer: wee are captiues, not to a worthy conquerour, but to a wret­ched catife: not van [...] by prowesse, but by periury, not by fight, but by falshood. W [...]o in ou [...] liue [...] to thy fathers lesse, woon continu­all fame, and he by our deaths shall purchase perpetuall infamy.

Doralicia not willing to suffer him wade any fu [...]ther, cut him short in this manner.

Sir, if bragges could stand for paiment, I am sure you w [...]ld not die in any m [...]s debt: but if your prowesse had beene as good as your prattle, you needed not [...]aue daunced within so short a t [...]oder: cr [...]uen [Page] Cocks crow lowdest, feareful curs bar [...]e most, and a hartl [...]sse coward hath alwaies more tongue th [...]n a hauty Captaine. But I bear [...] with you, for I doubt the feare of death and danger, hath driuen thy ma­ster into a cold palsie, and hath mad [...] th [...]e either fra [...]ticke or luna­ticke, the one shewing his melancholly, th [...] oth [...]r bewraying thy choller, willing the [...]efore as a friend you should passe ouer your passions with more patience, we will [...]eaue y [...]u as we found you vn­lesse you meane to be shri [...]n, & then I will send you a ghostly father.

Our co [...]fe [...]sion good mistresse (quoth Egerio) requires but a small [...]hri [...]t: for we [...]aue very little to say, but that Arbasto repents that e­ [...]e [...] hee loued such a perue [...]se minion, and I that euer trusted such a p [...]ri [...]red traytor

The Gentlewom [...]n tooke this for a farewell, pa [...]sing merily to the Palace, and leauing vs sitting sorrowfully in the prison, beway­ling our mishap with teares, and exclaiming against Fortune with bitter curses, what our complaints were it little auaileth to rehearse [...] for it would but driue thee into dumpes, and redouble my dolor. Suf­fice this that we were so long tormented with care, that at last wée were past cure, counting this our greatest calamitie, that liuing, eue­ry houre we lookt to die.

But as thus wee were drowned in distresse: so [...]oore Myrania had her minde doubtfully perplexed. Nature claimed by due to haue th [...] preheminence, and loue [...]ought by force to winne the supremacy. Na­ture brought in Peloru [...] aged haires to make the challenge, and Loue presented A [...]bastoes swéet face to be the Champion: [...]ssed thus with two contrarie tempests, at last she began to plead with her pas [...]ions.

Ah thrice infortunate Myrania, what strange fits bee these that burne thée with heate, and yet thou shakest with colde the body in a shiuering sweat and in a flaming Ice, melting as [...]axe, and yet as hard as the Adamant: is it loue? then would it were death for likelier it is thou shall lose thy life, than winne thy loue.

Ah haplesse Arbasto, would to God thy vertues were lesse than thy beauty, or my [...]ertues greater then my auctions: so should I either quickly free my selfe from fancie, or be lesse subie [...]ed [...]o folly.

But alas I [...]éele in my mind fierce skirmishes be [...]ne reason and appetite, loue and wisedome, danger and desire, the one perswa­ding to hate Arbasto as a foe, the other constraining to loue him as a friend: If I consent to the first, I end my daies with death, if to the last, I shall lead my life with infamy. What shall I then do? Ah My­rania, either swallow the iuyce of Mandrake, which may cast thée in­to [Page] a dead sleepe, or chew the hearb Ca [...]ysium, which may cause thée to hate eu [...]ry thing, so either shalt thou die in thy slumber, or dislike Ar­basto by th [...] potion.

Tush poore wench, what folli [...]s be [...]hese? wilt thou with the Wol [...]e barke at the Moone, or with the young Griphons, pecke against the starres? Doest thou thinke to quench fire with a sword: or with affection to mortif [...]e loue?

No, no, if thou bee wise suffer not the grasse to bee cut from vnder thy féet, strike while the yron is hotte, make thy market while the chaffer is to sale.

Now Arbasto is thine owne, now thou ma [...]st winne him by loue, and weare him by law: thou maist frée him from miserie without thy [...]athers mishap: thou maist saue his life without thy Fathers losse: thou maist gra [...]t thy good will vnto loue, and yet not falsi [...]o thy faith vnto nature.

Ca [...] Arbasto which is so courteous, become so cruell, but he will requite thy loue with loyaltie, thy faithfull fancy, with vn [...]ained affection?

No [...] no, he will and must loue thee of force, since thou hast grante [...] him his life of free will: hee will like the [...] in thy youth, and honour thee in thine age: he will be the port of prosperitie wherin thou maist rest, and the hauen o [...] happinesse, wherein thou maist harbour with­out harme: so that thou maist say of him, as Andromache said by Hector, Tu Dominus, tu vir, tu mihi frater [...]ri [...].

Yea but Myrania, yet looke before [...]hou leape, aud learne by other mens harmes to beware, Ariadne loue [...] Theseus, fr [...]ed from him the monstrous Mynotau [...]e, taught him to passe the Laberinth, yea for­sooke Parents and Countrey for his cause, and yet the guerdon hee gaue her for her good will, was to leaue her a d [...]solate wr [...]tch in a desert wildernesse.

Medea and Iason from the danger of the Dragons, and yet shee found him trothlesse: Phillis ha [...] bored Demophon, and Dydo, E [...]as, yet both repayed thei [...] loue with hate.

Tush the [...]ai [...]e [...]ower ha [...] not [...]he [...] best sent: the Lapidaries choose not the stone by the outward colour, but by the secret ve [...]tue: Paris was faire, yet false: Thie [...]tes was beautifull, but deceitfull, Vulcan was car [...]ed in white Iuory yet a Smith.

The p [...]ecious ston [...] of M [...]saulous sepulch [...]r, could not make the dead carca [...]e swé [...]t. Beautie Myrania is not alwayes accompanied with vertue, honestie and constancie: but oft times fraught with [Page] [...]ice, and [...]ri [...]ry. What then? if some were T [...]aytors, shall Arba­s [...]o be tro [...]hlesse? if some we [...] fa [...]se, shall he be [...]ai [...]hlesse? no, his bea­tle & vertue hath woon me: and he himselfe shall wear [...] me: I will for­sake Father, [...]riends, and Country, for his cause: [...]ea, I will venture [...] and life to frée h [...] from danger, in despigh [...] of froward Fortune, and the destinies.

MYrania being thus resolute in her opinion, began to cast be­yond the Moone, and to frame a thousand deuises in her h [...]a [...] t [...] bring her purpose to passe, fearing euery shadow [...] doubting euery wind, stumbling a [...] [...]he least straw, yet at the last pricked forward by fancy, she thought to preuent al [...] cause of fea [...] [...]n this wise.

The euening before she meant to atchieu [...] her enterprise, she secret­ly sent for the Iaylor by one of her maids, to whom she durst commit [...]er secret affaires, who being taught by her mistresse to play her part cunningly, brought the Iaylor into Myranias chamber by a p [...] ­ [...]rne gate, so that they were neither séene nor suspected of any: wh [...]re hee no sooner came, but hee was courteously entertained of th [...] young Ladie, who faining that she had to debate wi [...]h [...]im of weigh­ [...]ie affaires, called him into her closet, where treading vp [...]n a fal [...] boord, he fell vp to the shoulders, not being able to helpe himselfe, but [...]hat he there ended his life.

Myrania hauing desperately atchie [...]ed this deed, [...]h [...]e strait sought [...]ot to rob him of his coyne, but to bereaue him of his keyes, which after she had got [...]en, a [...]d conueyed his carcasse into a s [...]ret place [...] shée went in her night gowne, accompanied onely with her maid to the prison.

Arbasto and Egerio hearing the doores o [...]n at such an vnaccusto­med houre, began straight to conie [...]ture, that P [...]lorus sought to mur­ther them secretly, least his owne people should accuse him o [...] cruel­tie: but as [...]hey looked to haue seene the Iaylor, they spi [...]d Myrania in her night gowne: which sudden and vnlooked for sight so appaled their senses, as they were driuen into a maze, till Myrania wakened them from th [...]i [...] dumps with this sugred harmony.

I perc [...]iue A [...]basto, that my presence doth make th [...]e to muze, and my sudden ariuall hath driuen thée into a maze: what strange w [...]nd [Page] should la [...]d me in this coast. In tr [...]th thou maist thinke either my message is great, or my modesty little, either that I take small care of my self [...], or repose very great trust in thee, who at a time vnfit for my calling, haue without any guard come to a stranger, a captiue, yea and my fathers fatal [...] foe. I confesse it is a fault if I were not [...]orst: but seeing that necessitie hath no law. I thinke I haue the less [...] broken the law. But to leaue off these needlesse preamble [...], where d [...]lay breeds no lesse danger then death: know this Arbasto, that since thy first arriuall at my Fathers Court, my eyes haue béen so dazled with the be [...]mes of thy beautie, and my minde so snare [...] with view of thy vertues, as tho [...] onely art the man, whom in heart I loue and like: seeing thee therefore drowned héere by aduers [...] For­tune, in most haplesse [...]istresse, willing to manifest the loyaltie of my loue in effect, which I haue protested in words, I haue rather chosen to hazard both my life and honor, than not to offer thee peace, if thou wilt agree vnto the conditions. As my Father hath wrought thy woe, I will worke thy weale: as he hath sought thy bale, I will pro­cure thy blisse: from pe [...]urie I will set thee in prosperitie. I will frée th [...] from prison, from danger, yea from death it selfe, I will in yéel­ding to loue, dissent from nature, to lea [...]e my Father, friends, and Countrie, and passe with thee into De [...]marke. And to cut off spéeches, which might seeme to sauour either of flattery, or deceit: as thou art the first vnto whom I haue vowed my loue, so thou shalt b [...] the la [...], requiring no meed for my merit, nor no other gue [...]don for my good will, but that thou wilt take mee to thy wife, a [...]d in pledge of my truth, see heere the keyes, and all other things prouided for our sp [...]e­di [...] passage.

Myrania had no sooner vttered these wordes, but my mind w [...]s so ra [...]ished, as I was driue [...] into an extas [...]e for ioy, seeing that the ter­rour of my death was taken away with the hope of life, that from hea­ [...]inesse, I should [...]e [...]stored to happinesse, [...]d from most carefull mi­serie, to most secure fel [...]citie, I ther [...]fore [...]ramed her this answer [...].

Ah Myran [...]a, [...]he purest Cincelle [...]ineth brightest when it hath no oyle, and truth delighteth when it is apparelled worst. Flatter I will not [...] faithfull I [...]ust be willed from the one by conscience, and driuen to the other by your c [...]esie, which by how much the lesse I haue meri [...]ed it by desert, by so much the more I am bound to requit [...] it b [...] dutie. To decipher in colour [...]d discourses, and to paint out with curious sha [...]o [...]es, how [...]u [...]bly I accept of your o [...]fer, and how [...]reat­ly I thinke my selfe beholding to the Gods, for blessing me w [...]th such [Page] an happy chance, what my loyaltie and truth shall be, were but to proue that which your Ladiship, hoping of my constancie, hath not put in question. The guerdon you craue for your good will is such, that i [...] your curtesie had not forced mee to it by constraint, ye [...] your beauties and vertues are so great, as fancie would haue compelled me by consent. Myrania, what thou canst wish in a true and trustie Louer, I promise to performe, swearing vnto thee, that the [...]louds shall flow against the streames, the earth shall mount against his course, yea my carcasse shall be consumed vnto dust and ashes, before my minde shall be found disloyall, and to this I call the Gods to witnesse, of whom I desire no longer to li [...]e, than I meane simply to loue.

Oh Arbasto (quoth she) would God I had neuer séene thée [...] or that I may finde thy workes according to thy wordes, otherwise shall I haue cause to wish I had béene more cruell, or lesse courteous. But loue will not let me doubt the worst, but bids mee hope the best: yet thus much I may say, when Iason was in danger, who more faith­full? when Theseus feared the Labyrinth, who more loyall? when Demophon suffered shipwracke, who more louing? but I will not say what I thinke Arbasto, because thou shalt not suspect I fear [...].

Madam [...] (quoth Eger [...]o) Arbasto is my soueraigne, and I both honour and [...]eare him as a subiect, yet if hee should but once in heart thinke to bee disloyall to Myrania, the Gods confound mee with all earthly plagues, if I would not of a trustie friend, become his mor­tall foe.

It is easie to perswade her Egerio (quoth she) who alreadie is most willing to beleeue, let vs leaue therefore these needlesse protestati­ons, and goe to the purpose, delay bréedes danger, time t [...]rrieth for no man, spéed in necessitie is the best spurre, let vs hast therefore till we get forth of France, least if we be preuented, it breed my mishap, and your fatall misery.

Upon this we stayed not, but shutting the prison close, got couert­ly out of the Citie, passing throu [...] France with many fearefull perils, which to rehearse, were [...]he, needlesse, or [...]ootlesse: suffice this, wee at last happily arriued at Denmarke, where how I was welcommed home with triumphes, were too long to rel [...]te. But how P [...]lorus was perplexed, after he knew of our happy departure, thou [...]h (God [...]ot) most haplesse vnto him, I referre to thy [...]ood consi­deration to coniecture. The old man fretted not so fast in his m [...]lan­choly, but Doralicia chased as much in her choller, blaspheming bit­terly [Page] both against me and her sister Myrania: but as wordes breake no bones, so we cared the lesse for her scolding, fearing not the noyse of the peece as long as we were without danger of the shot. Well, lea­uing them to their dumps to vs again which floated in delight: [...]cki [...] Fortune hauing now hoysed vs vp to the top of her inconstant whéel [...], séeing how car [...]lesse I slumbred in the cradle of securiti [...], thought to make me a very mirrour of her mutabilitie, for she began a fresh to turne my ty [...]pet on this wise.

As daily I flattered Myrania, for fancie her I could not, promising with speed to call a Parliament for the confirmation of the marriage, I still felt the s [...]umpes of the old loue I bare Doralicia to sticke in my stomack [...], the mor [...] closely I couered the sparkes, the more the flame burst forth, I found absence to increas [...] affection, not to decrease fan­cy: in the day my mind dot [...]d of her vertues, in the night I dreamed of her beautie: yea, Cupid began to encounter m [...] with so fresh can­mizados, as by distance my distresse was farre more augmented, such sighes, such sobs, such thoughts, such paines and passions per­plexed me, as I felt the last assault worse then the former batterie. If I loued Doralicia in France, I now liked her thrice better being in Denmarke. If in presence her person pleased me, now in absence her perfection more contented me. To conclude, I sware to my selfe with a solemne sigh. Doralicia was, is, and shall be the mistresse of my heart in despight of the froward destinies: yet amazed at mine own [...] [...]olly, I began thus to muse wi [...]h my selfe.

O foolish Arbasto, nay rather frantike fondling, hast thou lesse reason then vnreasonable creatures? the Tyger flyeth the traine, the Lion escheweth the n [...]ts, the Déere auoydeth the coyles, because they are taken with these instruments, and art thou so mad, as hauing e­scaped pikes, wilfully to thrust thy selfe into perill? The childe being burnt ha [...]eth the fire, but thou being an old foole, wilt with the worme Naplitia no sooner come out of the coales, but leap into the flame. But alas what then: I sée the measure of loue is to h [...]ue no meane, and the end to be euerlasting [...] that to loue is allotted to all, but to be happie in loue, c [...]ntent to feel [...] why, shall I bee so mad to loue Do­ralicia, or so frought with ingratefull periury, as not to like My [...]ania? the one hath crossed me with bitter girds, the other courted mee wi [...]h sweet glaunces. Doralicia hath rewarded me with disdaine [...] Myran [...]a intreated me with desire, the one hath saued my life, the other sought my death. O Arbasto thou seest the best, but I feare like to follow the worst. Alas I cannot but loue Doralicia, what then? what res [...]eth [Page] for me to do, but to dy [...] with patience, séeing I cannot liue with pl [...]a­sure: yea Arbasto, die, die, rath [...]r wit [...] a secret scar, than an open scorne, for [...]ho [...] m [...]ist well su [...], but ne [...]er shalt thou haue good success [...]. And y [...]t Lions [...]awne when they ar [...] clawed: the most cruell Ty­gers stoop when they are tickled: and Women, though ne [...]er so obsti­nate, y [...]l [...] wh [...]n they are courted. There is n [...] Pearl [...] so hard, but vineger breaketh: n [...] Diamond so stony, but bloud molli [...]eth, no heart so stiffe, but loue weakeneth: what though Doralicia sought thy d [...]ath, perhaps now [...]he repent [...], and will giue thee life [...] though at the [...]rst she cast thee a stone, shee will now throw thée an apple. Why then Arbasto assault her once againe with a fr [...]sh charge, séeke to g [...]t th [...]t by Letter [...], which thou couldest not gain [...] by talke, for one line is of more [...]orce to perswade, then a [...]oneths par [...]e, for in writing, thou maist so set downe thy passions, & h [...]r perfections, as [...]e shall ha [...] cause to thinke well of thee, and better of her selfe, b [...]t yet so warily, as it shall be hard for her to iudge whether thy loue b [...] more faithfull, or her beautie amiable.

HAuing thus determined with my selfe, though as couertly as I could to conc [...]al [...] my [...]affaires, least either Myrania or Egerio should spie my halting, I pri [...]ly sent an Ambassad [...]ur to Pelo [...]us, to intreat for a contract betwéene vs, and also to cra [...]e his [...]aughter Do­ralicia in marriage, promising to send him Myrania safe vpon thi [...] consent, and withall I framed a Letter to Doralicia to this effect.

AS soone as I had written my Letter, I dispatcht the Messenge [...] as spéedily and priu [...]ly as might be, who within the space of thré [...] wéekes ar [...]iued at Orleance, where deliuering his Ambassage to Pe­lorus, and my Letter to Doralicia, he stayed for an answere the spac [...] of tenne dayes, in which time, Pelorus consulting with his Councel [...] wa [...] very willing to grant me his dau [...]ht [...]r in m [...]rriage, but that by no mean [...]s he could winne the good will of Doralicia, seeing there [...]re no perswas [...] could preuaile, he dispa [...]cht my messenger with deni­all, and Doralicia returned me this froward answere.

After that the Messenger was returned to Denmarke, a [...]d that I had receiued and read the Letter, such sundry [...]houghts assai­led me, that I bec [...]me almost [...]ranticke: [...]eare, despaice, grie [...]e, [...]te, choller, wra [...]h, desire of re [...]enge, & what not, so torment [...]d my mind, that I fell [...]o raging aga [...]nst the G [...]ds, [...]o r [...]l [...]ng at Doral [...]cia, and to c [...]rsing of all [...]ma [...] kinde, concei [...]ing such an extreame hate against her, as be [...]o [...]e I loued her not so hear [...]ily, as now I loathed her hate­fully, counting my selfe an vngrate wretch toward My [...]ni [...], and cal­ling to minde her bea [...]ie and vert [...]e, her bounty and curtesie, I [...]ell more deepely in lo [...]e with he [...], than eu [...]r with Doral [...]cia, so that I could not spare one glance from g [...]zing vpon her person, nor draw my minde from musing on her per [...]ect [...]on. But a sudden change, alas a sorrowfull chance.

Myrania pe [...]ceiuing me sou [...]ed of these sorrowfull dumps, be­gan straigh [...] without casting any water, to coniecture my disease, and [...]o sh [...] [...]t that, which indéed she hit without any great ayme. But as lo [...]e is most suspicio [...]s, so she began to doubt the worst, fe [...]ing that as yet the [...]eautie of Doralicia was not blotted out of my mind [...], searching [...]herefore narrowly what she could either hear [...] or learne of my secret [...], a [...] last she foun [...] out that which wrought he [...] finall mishap, [Page] and my fatall misery. For by lucklesse chance, leauing the doore of my closet open, Myrania thinking to finde me at my Muses, stumbled on the coppie of my Letter, which I sent to Doralicia, and vpon the an­swere which I receiued from that ruthlesse Minion. [...]hich after shee had read, perceiuing how traiterously I had requited her loue with hate [...] she conuey [...]d [...]er selfe couertly into her Chamber, where, after she had almost dimmed her sight with flouds of teares, and burst her heart with blowing sighs, she fell into these complaints.

O infortunate Myrania, O haplesse Myrania, yea, O thrice accur­sed Myrania, whom Fortune by spight seeketh to soyle, whom the de­stinies by fate are appointed to plague, and whom the gods by iustice will and must most cruelly reuenge. Thou hast beene a paricide to thy father, in seeking to destroy him by thy disobedience: thou art a trai­tor to thy Countrey, in sauing the enemy of the Common-wealth, & thou art a foe to nature, in louing disloyall Arbasto: & can the Gods but plague those monstro [...]s iniuries? No, no Myrania, thou hast de­serued more mishap then either Fortune can, or will affoord thee. Ah cruell and accursed Arbasto, I see now that it fareth with thee, as with the Panther, which hauing made one astonished with his faire sight, seeketh to deuoure him with bloudy pursute, & with me poore wench, as it doth with them that view the Basiliske, whose eyes procure de­light to the looker at the first glimpse, but death at the second glance. Alas, was there none to like but thy foe? none to loue but Arbasto? none to fancy but a periured Dane? none to match with but a flatte­ring mate. Now hath thy lawlesse loue gained a lucklesse and: now thou triest by experience, that the tre [...] Alpin [...] is smooth to bee tou­ched, but bitter to b [...]e tasted: that the fairest Serpent is most in­fectious, the [...]est colour soonest stained, the cleerest glasse most brit­tle, and that louers, though they beare a delicate shew, yet they haue a deceitfull substance: that if they haue hony in their mouthes, yet they hau [...] gal [...] in their hearts: the more is the pittie, in thee to tru [...]t without tryall, and the great [...] impietie for him to be a traytor, being so well truste [...].

Is this this the [...]urte [...]e of Denmarke towards friends, to intreat them so dis [...]ightfull [...]? is my goodwil not only reiected without cause, but also dis [...]ained without colour? Alas what shall I doe to this ex­tremity being a forlorne wretch, in a forraine Country? which wa [...] shall I turne me, of whom shall I seeke remedy? Pelorus will reiect me, and why should he not? Arbasto hath re [...]cted me, and why should hee [...] the one I haue offended wish too much griefe, the other I haue [Page] serued with too great good will: the one is lost with loue, the other with hate: Pelorus, because I cared not for him: Arbasto, because I cared for him, but alas too much. And with that she fetch such a sigh, as witnessed a heart pained with most intolerable passions, yea car [...] and griefe so fiercely and freshly assaulted her, as sh [...]e fell into a feuer, refusing all sustenance, wishing and calling for nothing but death.

While shee thus p [...]ned away with griefe, I thought to search out her sore, but I could not p [...]rceiue the cause of her sorrow, only I did coniecture this, that she doubted my Nobles would not consent to our marriage: to [...]id her therefore of this care, I presently called a Par­liament, where without any great controuersie it was concluded.

This newes being come to the eares of Myrania, it no whi [...] decrea­sed her dolor, but did rather far the more augment her distresse, which made Egerio to muse, and dra [...]e me into a great maze: so that accom­panied with my Nobles, I went to comfort her, and to carry her newes, that if shee could but come into the Chamber of her presence, she should there be crowned Quéen. But alas, when I came & saw her [...]o altered in one w [...]ke, wasted to the hard bones, more like a ghost [...]han a liuing creature, I began thus to comfort her.

Ah Myrania quoth I) more loued of me than mine owne life, and more deare vnto me [...] than my self [...], would God I might be plagued with al earthly diseases, so I might sée thée free from distresse: how can Arbasto be without sorrow to sée Myrania oppressed with sickenesse? how can he but [...]inke in calamitie, to see her but once toucht with care? alas, vnfold vnto me thy sore, and I will apply the salue, make mé [...] priuie to thy malady, & I will procure a med [...]cine: If want of wealth worke thy wor, thou hast the kingdome of Denmark to dispose at thy pleasure: if absence from friends, thou hast such a friend [...]f thy louing spouse A [...]basto, as death it selfe shall neuer dissolue our loue.

I had no sooner vttered this word, but Myrania, as one possessed with some hellish fury, start vp in her bed, with staring lookes, and wrathfull countenance, séeming by her raging gestures to be in a fren­zy [...]: but being kept downe by her C [...]es, shee roared out thes [...] hatefull curses.

O vile wretches (quoth she) will you not suffer me in my life to re­uenge my selfe on that periured traytor Arbasto, yet shall you not de­ny mee but after death my ghost shall torment him with ga [...]ly vi [...] ­ons. O thrice accursed caiti [...]e, doest thou séeme to helpe mee with thy scabbard, and sec [...]etly hurt me with thy sword: doest thou offer m [...]e hony openly, and priuily present mee with gall? doest thou say th [...]u [Page] wilt cure me with loue, when thou séekest to kill me with hate? haue I redéemed thée from mishap, and wilt thou requite me with misery? wa [...] I the meanes to saue thy life, and wilt thou without cause pro­cure my death? haue I forsaken my Country, betrayed my Father, and yet wilt thou kill me with discurtes [...]e? O haplesse Myrania, could not Medeas mishap haue made thee beware? could not Ariadnes ill lucke haue taught thee to take hée [...]? could not Phillis mis [...]fortune haue feared thee from the like folly: but thou must like and loue a stragling stranger? Aye m [...] that repentance should euer come too late: folly is sooner remembred then redressed, and time may be repented, but not recalled.

But I sée it is a practise in men to [...]aue as little care of their owne [...]thes, as of their Ladies honors, imitating Iupiter, who neuer kept [...]ath he sware to Iuno, diddest thou not false Arbasto protest with so­lemne vowes, when thy life did hang in the balla [...]c [...], that thy loue to Myrania should bee alwayes loyall, and hast thou not since sent and sued secretly, to winne the good will of D [...]alicia? diddest thou not sweare to take me to thy mate, and hast thou not since sought to con­tract with h [...]r a new match? thou diddest promise to be true vnto me, but hast prooued trusty vnto her: what should I say, thou hast prese [...] ­ted her with pleasant drinkes, and [...]ysoned me with bitter potions, the more is my penurie, and the greater is thy periurie. But vil [...] wretch, doest thou thinke this thy villany shall be vnreuenged. No [...] no Egerio, I hope the Gods haue appointed thee to reuenge my iniu­ [...]ies, thou hast sworne it, and I feare not but thou wilt performe it. And that thou ma [...]st know I exclaime not without cause, sée here the Letters which haue passed betwéene this false traytor and Doralicia.

The sight of these Letters so galled my guilty conscience, as I stood as one astonished, not knowing what to doe, excuse my selfe I could not, confirme my loue I durst not, yet at last the water standing in mine eyes, clasping her hand in min [...], I was ready to craue par­don, if she had not preuented me with these iniurious spéeches.

Cléere thy false trayte [...] Arbasto thou canst not perswade me [...] thou shalt not, for [...]iue thee I will not, cease therefore to speake for in none of these thou shalt spéed. Eger [...]o I saued thy life, then reueng [...] my death, and so content I die, yet onely discontent in this, that I cannot liue to hate Arbasto so long as I loued him.

And with that turning vpon her left side, with a gasping sigh she gaue vp the ghoste which sight draue me into such a desperate minde [...] that if Egerio and the rest had not holden mee, I had sent my soule with he [...] to the graue.

AFter Myranias death, being carried by force to my b [...]d, I lay for certaine dayes oppressed with such sorrow, as if I had béen [...] in a tranc [...], cursing and accusing my self [...] of ingratitude, of periurie, and of most despightfull disloyalty, I lay perplexed with inc [...]ant passions.

W [...]ll, this heauy and haplesse newes being noysed in France, Pe­lorus taking the death of his daughter to heart [...] in short time died, leauing Doralicia the onely inh [...]ritour of his kingdome.

But yet sée how Fortune framed vp this tragedy, who meant t [...] ca [...] Doralicia from most happy felicitie, to most haplesse miseri [...]: for shée séeing that no sini [...]er chance could change my affection, that ney­ther the length of time, nor the distance of place, the spight of For­tune, the feare of death, nor h [...]r most cruell discourt [...]si [...], could dimi­nish my lou [...]: musing I say, on this my inuiolable constancie, Cupid meaning to reu [...]ng [...], séeing her now at discouert, drew home to th [...] head, and strooke her so déepe at the heart, as in despight of Vesta shée vailed bonnet, and gi [...]ing ground, sobbed forth secretly to her self [...] these words: Alas I lo [...]e Arbasto, and none but Arbasto.

Venus séeing that her boy had so well plaid the man, began to tri­umph ouer Doralicia, who now was in her dumps, striuing as yet betwéene loue and hate, till fancy s [...]t in her foot, and then shée yéelded vp the bulwarke in these peaceable termes.

Why how now Doralicia (quoth she) doest thou dreame or dote? Is it folly or frenzy: melancholy or madnesse, that driueth thee thus into dumps, and so strangely distresseth thee with dole [...]? what [...]on [...] thoughts, what vnacquainted passions: what slumbring imaginati­ons are these which perplexeth thee? hast thou now [...]ele fire to spring out of the co [...]d flint? heat to [...]ry or [...] th [...] chilling frost? loue to come from hate, an [...] d [...]sire from dis [...]ine? Doest th [...]u fare as though thou hadst béene drenc [...]ed in the Riuer Iellus in Phrig [...]a? which at the first br [...]edeth sorrow through extreame cold, but forthwith burneth the sinewes t [...]rough raging heat? Hath V [...]us now in despight of Vest [...] made th [...]e vaile [...]onnet? the more (poore wench) is thy mishappe, and the w [...]rse i [...] thy fortune: for loue (though neuer so sweete) cannot yet h [...] dige [...]ted without a most sharpe sauce: faring [Page] like the gold that is neuer p [...]ect till it hath past through the furnace [...]

Loue Dolaricia, but whom doest thou loue, Arbas [...]o: what the man whom euen now thou diddest s [...] deadly hate? hast thou so littl [...] force ouer thy affections, as to fancy thy [...]oe? No, no, fond foole, Ar­basto is thy friend, and one that honoreth thee as a Saint, and would seru [...] thee as his soueraigne, that loueth and liketh thee as much as thou canst desire, but more than thou doest deserue, who being bitter­ly crossed with discurtes [...]e, could neuer be touch [...]d of inconstancy: but still remaineth like to Aristo [...]les Quadratus, which howsoeuer it is turned alwayes standeth stedfast. Thou canst not then of conscienc [...] Doralicia, but repay his loue with liking, and his firme fancy with mutuall affection: he is beautifull to please the eye, v [...]rtuous to con­tent the mind: rich to maintaine thy h [...]nour, of birth to counteruaile thy parentage, wise, courteous, and constant, and what wouldest thou [...]aue more?

Yea but alas I haue reiected his seruice, and now hee will not respect my sute: I haue detested him, and now he will despise mee: I haue requited his good will with crueltie, and he will reuenge me wit [...] cont [...]mpt.

Better hadst thou then conceale it with griefe, than reue [...]le it t [...] thine owne shame: for if thou ayme at the white and misse the mark, thou shalt bee pointed at of those that hate thee, pittied of those that loue thee, scorned at by him, and talked of by all: suffer rather then (poo [...] Doralicia) death by sil [...]nce, than diris [...]on by reuealing thy s [...] ­crets, for death cutte [...]h off all care, but decision bre [...]deth endlesse ca­lamity.

Tush doest tho [...] thinke Arbasto can so harden his heart, as to hate thee, so ma [...]r hi [...] a [...]fections as to flee from fancy, that he wil become so proud as to r [...]fus [...] thy pr [...]ffer? No, if thou sendest him but one line, it will mor [...] harme him, then all Circes inchantments: if thou len­dest but one friendly looke, it will be more estéemed than li [...]e. Why, but Doralicia [...] and with that she sate still as one in a [...]rance, building castl [...]s in the a [...]re, ha [...]ging be [...]w [...]en [...] feare and hope, trust and dis­p [...]i [...]e, doubt [...]elfe th [...]rfor [...] from these [...]umps, sh [...] tooke her Lu [...]e, whereupon [...] this ditt [...]e:

Doralicia hauing ended her dittie, laid downe her Lute, and be­tooke her to her former passions, wherein she had not long plodded, but she determined to write vnto me with as much speed as might be, framing her Letters to this effect.

The Messenger by whom she sent this message, making spé [...]d to performe his Mistresse command, arriued within few dayes at Den­marke, where deliuering me the Letter, I was greatly amazed at the sight thereof, musing what the contents should be, at last vnripping the se [...]les, I perceiued to what Saint Doralicia bent her deuotion, but the showre came too late when the grasse was withered: yet I stood for a time astonished, houering betwéene loue and hate. But at the last such loathsome misliking of her former discurtesie so incensed my land, that to displease her, and to despight For [...]une, I returned her speedily this hatefull answere.

DOralicia hauing receiued these Letters, and read the contents, was so impatient in her passions, that she fell in to a Frenzie, ha­uing nothing in her mouth but Ar [...]o, A [...]b [...]sto, euer doubling thi [...] word with such pittiful cryes and scrich [...]s, as would haue moued any but me to remors [...]: she continued not in this case long before she died. But I alas leading a loathsome life, was mo [...] [...] crossed by for­tune, for Ege [...]io c [...]nspi [...]ing with th [...] [...] of my Realme [...] in short time by ciuill warres disposses [...]ed me of my Crowne and Kingdome. Forced then to [...] f [...]om mine owne [...]ubi [...]cts: after some trauell I arri [...]ed at this [...], where considering with my self the fickle incon­stancy of vniust Fortune [...] I haue euer since liued content [...] this Cell to des [...]i [...]: [...] Fort [...]n [...], one wh [...] sor [...]owing for the mishap of Myrania, and another while ioying at th [...] miserie of Doralicia: but alwayes smiling that by contemning fortun [...], I lear [...]e to lead her in triumph. Thus thou hast heard wh [...] in mine estate I passe my dayes c [...]ntent: rest therefore satisfied, that thus I haue liued, and thus I meane to die.