THere dwelled in the Citie of Metelyne a certaine Duke called Clerophontes, who through his prowesse in al martiall ex­ploits waxed so proud & tyrannous, vsing such mercilesse crueltie to his forraine eni­mies, and such modelesse rigour to his na­tiue Citizens, that it was doubtfull whether he was more feared of his foes for his crueltie, or hated of his friends for his tyrannie: yet as the worst wéede spring­eth vp more brauely then the wholesomest hearbe, and as the crookedst trée is commonly laden with most fruit, so this rigorous Duke was so fauoured and fostered vp by fortune, his estate béeing so established with honour, and so beautified with wealth, so deckt with the diadem of dignitie, and endued with fortunate prosperitie, ha­uing in warres such happie successe against his foes, & in peace such dutifull reuerence of his friendes, (although more for feare then fauor) as he seemed to want nothing that eyther fortune or the fates could allowe him, if one onely sore which bred his sorrowe coulde haue bene sal­ued. But this griefe so galled his conscience, and this cursed care so combred his mind, that his happinesse was greatly surcharged with heauinesse, to sée the cause of his care could by no meanes be cured. For this Clerophon­tes was indued with two children, the one a Daughter named Lewsippa, and the other a sonne called Gwydo­nius, [Page] this Lewcippa was so perfect in the complection of her bodie, and so pure in the constitution of her minde, so adorned with outwarde beautie, and endued with in­ward bountie, so pollished with rare vertues and exqui­site qualities, as she séemed a séemely Venus for her beu­tie, and a second Vesta for her virginitie; yea, Nature and the Gods had so bountifullye bestowed their giftes vpon her, as Fame her selfe was doubtfull whether shée should make greater report of her excellent vertue, or ex­quisite beautie. But his sonne Guydonius was so con­trarie to his sister Lewsippa, (though not in the state of his bodie, yet in the stay of his minde) as it made all men meruaile how two such contrarie stems could spring out of the selfe same stocke: His personage indéede was so comely, his feature so well framed, each lim so perfectlye couched, his face so faire, and his countenance so amiable, as he séemed a heauenly creature in a mortall carcasse. But his minde was so blemished with detestable qualy­ties, and so spotted with the staine of voluptuousnesse, that he was not so much to be commended for the propor­tion of his bodie, as to bée condempned for the imperfec­tion of his minde. He was so endued with vanitie, and so imbrued w ^t vice, so nursed vp in wantonnesse, & so nus­led vp in wilfulnesse, so carelesse to obserue his Fathers commaund, and so retchlesse to regard his counsell, that neither the dreade of Gods wrath, nor the feare of his fa­thers displeasure, could driue him to desist from his de­testable kinde of liuing. Nay, there was no fact so filthy, which he would not commit, no mischiefe so monstrous, which he wold not enterprise: no daunger so desperate, which he would not aduenture: no perill so fearefull, which he would not performe: nor no action so diuellish, which he would not execute. So immodest in his man­ners, so rude in his iestures, yea, and so prodigall in his expences, as mines of golde were not able to maintaine [Page 2] such witlesse prodigalitie. This loathsome lyfe of Cwy­donius was such a cutting corasiue to his Fathers care­full conscience, and such a haplesse clogge to his heauie heart, that no ioye could make him inioye anie ioye, no myrth could make him merrie, no prosperitie could make him pleasant, but abandoning all delyght, and auoyding all companie, he spent his dolefull daies in dumpes and dolors, which he vttered in these wordes.

NOw (quoth he) I proue by experience, the saying of Soph [...]cles to be true, that the man which hath many children shall neuer liue without some myrth, nor dye without some sorrowe: for if they be vertuous, he shall haue cause whereof to reioyce, if vicious, wherefore to be sad, which saying I trie performed in my selfe, for as I haue one childe which delights me with her vertue, so I haue another that despights me with his vanitie, as the one by dutie brings me ioye, so the other by disobedience bréeds my annoy: yea, as y ^e one is a comfort to my mind, so the other is a fretting corasiue to my heart: for what griefe is there more griping, what paine more pinching, what crosse more combersome, what plague more perni­tious, yea, what trouble can torment me worse, then to sée my sonne, mine heire, the inheritour of my Dukdome, which should be the piller of my parentage, to consume his time in roysting and ryot, in spending and spoiling, in swearing and swashing, and in following wilfullye the furie of his owne frantike fancie. Alasse, most mise­rable & lamentable case, would to God the destinyes had decréed his death in y ^e swadling clouts, or y ^• the fates had prescribed his end in his infācy. Oh y ^• the date of his birth had ben the day of his burial, or y ^• by some sinister storme of fortune he had ben stifled on his mothers knées, so that his vntimely death might haue preuēted my ensuing so­rowes, and his future calamities: for I sée that y ^• young frie will alwayes proue olde frogges, y ^• the crooked twig [Page] will proue a crabbed trée, that the sower bud will neuer be swéete blossome, how that which is bredde by the bone wil not easily out of the flesh, that he which is carelesse in youth, will be lesse carefull in age, that where in prime of yeares vice raigneth, there in ripe age vanitie remai­neth. Why Clerophontes, if thou séest the sore, why do­est thou not applie the salue, and if thou dost perceiue the mischiefe, why doest not preuent it with medicine, take away the cause and the effect faileth, if Gwydones be the cause of thy ruth, cut him off betimes, least hée bring thée to ruine, better hadst thou want a sonne then neuer want sorow. Perhaps thou wilt suffer him so long till he fall sicke of the Father, and then he will not one­ly séeke thy lands and liuing, but life and all, if thou pre­uent not his purpose: yea, and after thy death he will be through his lasciuious lyfe the ouerthrowe of thy house, the consumer of thy Dukedome, the wracke of thy com­mon weale, and the verie man that shall bring the state of Metelyne to mischiefe and miserie. Sith then thy sonne is such a sinke of sorrowes, in whose life lies hid a loath­some masse of wretched mishaps, cut him off as a grace­lesse graft, vnworthie to growe out of such a stocke. A­lasse Clerophontes, shalt thou bee so vnnaturall as to séeke the spoile of thine owne childe, wilt thou bée more sauage then the brute beasts in committing such cruel­tie, no, alasse the least misfortune of our children doth so moue vs, that as the Spider féeleth if her web be prickt but with the point of a pin, so if they be toucht but with the least trouble, we féele the paines thereof with prick­king griefe to pinch vs. Why hath not nature then cau­sed loue to ascend as wel as to descend, and placed as du­tifull obedience in y ^e child, as louing affection in y ^e father: & with that he fetcht such a déep sigh, y ^• it was a signe of y ^e extreame sorrow he conceiued for his sons witlesse folly. But as he was readie againe to enter into his doleful [Page 3] discourse, to aggrauate his griefe the more, and increas [...] his care, certaine complaints were brought him by sun­drie Citizens, of the outragious behauiour of his sonne Gwydonius, which being attentiuely heard, he in great cholar called for his sonne, against whom he thundered out such threatning reproches, laying before his face the miserie that would insue of such recklesse mischiefes, & promising that if he directed not his course by a newe compasse, and leuelled his life by a new line, he woulde not onely repay his folly with the penaltie of the lawe, but also by consent of his Commons, disinherite him of his Dukedome: that Gwydonius greatly incensed with the seuere censure of his Father, broyling with furious rage, sturdely burst foorth into these stubborne tearmes.

SIr, (quoth he) if Terence his Menedemus were a­liue, and heard these your fond and fantasticall re­sons, he would as readely condemne you of crabbednes, as he accused Chremes of currishnesse: for as he by too much austeritie procured his sonnes mishappe, so you by too much seueritie séeke to bréed my misfortune. You old men most iniustly, or rather iniuriously, measure our stailesse moode by your stayed mindes, our young yeres by your horie haires, our flourishing youth by your wi­thered age, thinking to direct our dooings by your doa­tings, our wills by your wits, our youthfull fancies by your aged affections, and to quench our fierie flames by your dead coales and cinders: yea, supposing that the Leueret shuld be as skilfull in making of a head as the olde Hare, that the young Cubs shoulde as soone tapish, as y ^e old Fox, that y ^• young Frie shuld as wel auoid the net as the olde Fish, and that the young wantons shuld be as warie as the old wysards. But this sir, is to make fire frost, to chaunge heate to colde, mirth to mourning, singing to sadnesse, pleasure to paine, and to tye the Ape [Page] and the Beare in one tedder, sith then young stemme [...] will not be set on a withered stocke, that the young twigge liketh not vnder the old trée, that the toyish con­ceipts of youth are vnfit for the testie cogitations of age: I meane for your satisfaction and my solace, to departe from the Court, and to spend my dayes in trauell.

Clerophontes no sooner heard this determination of his sonne Gwydonius, but his sorrow was halfe salued, and his care almost cured, thinking that by trauell hée should either ende his life or amend his lewdnesse, and therefore both hearted and hastened his sonne in this his newe course, least delay might bréede daunger, or time by some toye cause him tourne his tippet, furnishing & finishing all things necessarie for his sonnes iourney, who readie to goe (more willing to trauell, than his fa­ther to intreate him) had this friendly farewell giuen him by Clerophontes.

SOnne (quoth he) there is no greater doubt which doo­eth more déepely distresse the minde of a young man, then to determine with himselfe what course of life is best to take, for there is such a confused Chaos of contra­rie conceipts in young wits, that whiles they looke for that they cannot like, they are lost in such an endles La­berinth, as neither choice nor chance can draw thē out to their wished desires, for so manie vaines so many vani­ties: if vertue draweth one way, vice driueth another way: as profit perswades thē, so plesure prouokes them: as wit weigheth, will wresteth: if friends counsell them to take this, fancie forceth them to choose that: so that de­sire so long hangs in doubt, as either they choose none, or els chaunce on the worst. But in my opinion, the fittest kind of life for a young Gentleman to take (who as yet hath not subdued the youthfull conceipts of fancie, nor made a conquest of his will by witte) is to spende his [Page 4] time in trauell, wherein he shall finde both pleasure and profite: yea, and buy [...] that by experience, which other­wise with all the treasure in the world hée cannot pur­chase. For what chaungeth vanitie to vertue, staylesse wit to stayed wisedome, fonde fantasies to firme affecti­ons, but trauell: what represseth the rage of youth, and redresseth the witlesse furie of wanton yeares, but tra­uell: what tourneth a secure life to a carefull lyuing, what maketh the foolish wise, yea, what increaseth wit and augmenteth skill, but trauell: in so much that the fame Vlysses wonne, was not by the tenne yeares hee laye at Troy, but by the time he spent in trauell. But there is nothing Gwydonius so precious which in some respecte is not perillous, nor nothing so pleasaunt which maye not be painefull: the finest golde hath hys drosse, the purest wine his lées, the brauest rose his pric­kles, each swéete hath his sower, each ioye his annoy, each weale his woe, and euerie delyght his daunger. So trauaile Gwydonius is a course of life verie plea­sant, and yet very perillous, wherin thou mayst practise vertue if thou take héede, or purchase discredite if thou béest carelesse: where thou maist reape renowne if thou béest vertuous, and gaine reproch if thou be vici­ons: whereout doo spring wisedome and folly, fréedome and bondage, treasure and trash, fame and discredite, honour & shame, according to the dispotion of him which eyther vseth it to his profit, or abuseth it to his discom­moditie. Sith then thou shalt beare sayle in such peril­lous Strayghtes, take héede least thou dash thy ship agaynst most daungerous Rockes. It is a saying Gwy­donius, not so common as true, that hée which will heare the Syrens sing, must with Vlysses tye himselfe to the mast of a ship, least happely he be drowned. Who so meanes to be a sutor to Circes, must take a Preser­uatiue, vnlesse he will be inchaunted.

[Page] He that will fish for y ^• Torpedo, must annoynt his hand with the oyle of Nemiphar, least he be charmed, & who so meaneth to enter combat with vanitie, must first sure­ly defence himselfe with the target of vertue, vnlesse hée meane to be a captiue to care, or calamitie. I speak this Gwydonius by experience, which afterwarde thou shalt know by proofe, for in trauell thou shalt finde such sub­till Syrens as will indaunger thée, such sorcering Cirees as will inchaunt thée, such poysoned Torpedos, as will not onely charme thy hand but thy heart, if by my expe­rience and other mens perils thou learn not to beware. First Gwydonius, be not too sumptuous least thou seeme prodigall, nor too couetous least they compt thée a nig­gard: for by spending in excesse thou shalt be thought a vainglorious foole, and by too much sparing a couetous pesant. Be not wilfull in thy dooings that they count thée not witlesse, nor too rash, that they think thée not de­uoyd of reason: be not too merrie that they count thée not immodest, nor too sober least they call thée sullen, but shew thy selfe to be an olde man for thy grauitie, and a young youth for thy actiuitie: so shal all men haue cause to praise thée for thy manners, and commend thée for thy modestie. Be not too curious Guydonius, that they déeme thée not proud, nor too curteous, least they call thée coun­terfaite. Be a friend to all, & a foe to none, and yet trust not without triall, nor commit any secret to a friendlye stranger, least in too much trust lye treason, and thou be forced by repentaunce to [...]rie Peccaui. The swéetest Muske is sower to be tasted, the finest Pils most bitter to be chewed, and the flattering friend most tickle being tried, then beware least faire words make fooles faine, & glozing spéeches cause had I wist come too late. Lende not Gwydonius a listning eare to the Alarums of loue, nor yéeld not thy fréedome to the assault of lust, be not dazeled with the beames of fading beautie, nor daunted [Page 5] with the desire of euery delicat damsell, for in time such blisse will proue but bane, and such delightfull ioye, but despitefull annoye. Lust Gwydonius will prooue an eni­mie to thy pursse, and a foe to thy person, a canker to thy minde, and a corasiue to thy conscience, a weakner of thy wit, a molester of thy minde, a besotter of thy sences, and finally a mortall bane to all thy body, so that thou shalt find pleasure the pathway to perdition, and lusting Loue the load-stone to ruth and ruine. Séeke not then Gwydonius gréedely to deuour that baite, where-vnder thou knowest a hurtful hook to be hidden: frequent not y ^• plesure which wil turn to thy poyson, nor couet not y ^• cō ­panie, which will conuert to thy confusion, least through such follye thou haue cause in time to bée sadde, and I to be sorrowfull. Now Gwydonius that thou hast heard the aduertisement of a louing father, follow my aduice as a duetifull Childe, and the more to binde thée to per­fourm [...] my former preceptes, that this my counsaile be not drowned in obliuion, I giue thée this Ring of gold, wherein is written this sentence, Praemonitus, Praemu­nitu [...]. A Posie pretie for the wordes, and pithie for the matter, shorte to bée rehearsed, and long to bée related, inferring this sence, that he which is fore-warned by friendlye counsayle of imminent daungers, is fore-armed against all future mishappe and calamitie, so that hée maye by fore-warning preuent perills if it be possible, or if by sinister fortune he cannot eschew them, yet hée maye beare the Crosse with more patience and lesse griefe. Kéepe this Ring Gwydonius carefully, that thou maist shew thy selfe to respect thy owne case▪ and regarde my counsaile: and in so dooing thou shalt please me, and pleasure thy selfe.

CLerophontes hauing thus ended his discourse, em­bracing his sonne with fatherlye affection, and gi­uing [Page] him his blessing, went secretlye into his Cham­ber the more to couer his griefe which hée conceyued for his sonnes departure: vnwilling his sonne should per­ceyue by his sorrowe how vnfainedly he both liked and loued him.

WEll, Gwydonius hauing taken his leaue of his fa­ther, furnished both with counsell and coyne, with aduice of wisedome and ayde of wealth, passed on his iourney very solempnly, vntill he was past the bounds of his fathers Dukedome, and then as merrie as might be he trauayled by the space of seauen wéekes without anye residence, vntill he came to a Citie called Barut­ta, where (whether he were delighted with the scituati­on of the place, or deluded with the perswasion of some Parasiticall persons) he securelye setteled himselfe by the space of a whole yeare: in which time hee [...] care­lesly floated in the seas of voluptuousnesse, and so reck­lesselye raunged in lycentious and lawlesse lybertie, thinking himselfe a peasaunt if hée were not prodi­gall, counting nothing comelye if not costlye, nothing seemelye if not sumptuous, vsing such monstrous ex­cesse in all his actions, that the Citizens of Barutta noted him for a myrrour if immoderate lyfe, and a ve­rye patterne of witlesse prodigalitie: yea, his excessiue expences daylye so increased, that Mynes of golde had not bene sufficient to mayntaine his pompous magnifi­cence, in so much that the Magistrates of Barutta, not onelye meruayled where hée hadde coyne to counter­uayle his expences, but also beganne to suspecte him eyther for some skilfull Alcumist, or that hée had some large Commission to take vp those pursses that fell in­to lapse, for want of sufficient defence: wherevppon béeing called before the Magistrates and stricktlye exa­mined [Page 6] what Trade hée vsed, why hée stayed so long, in the Citie, and howe hee was able to mayntayne so Princelye a porte as hée carryed? Guydonius vnwil­lyng to haue them priuye to his Parentage, beganne to coyne a scuse, yet not so cunninglye but hée was trapte in his owne talke, and so caste in Prisonne, where hée laye clogged with care, and deuoyd of com­forte, hauing not so much as one trustye friende, amon­gest all those trothlesse flatterers which in prosperitie hadde so frequented his companye, the ingratitude of whome, so perplexed his molested minde, as sur­charged with sorrowe, hée burst foorthe into these tearmes.

ALas (quoth hée) now haue I bought that by hap­lesse experience, which if I hadde bene wyse, I might haue gotte by happye counsayle: Nowe am I taught that with payne and perill, which if selfe-loue hadde not besotted my sences, I myght haue learned with profitte and pleasure: that in the fay­rest Sandes is most ficklenesse, out of the brauest Blossome moste commonlye springeth the woorste Fruite, that the finest Flower seldome hath the best smell, that the moste glystering Stone hath often­tymes the leaste vertue, and that in the greatest shew of good wyll lyes ofte times the smallest effecte of friendshippe, in moste flatterye leaste fayth, in the fairest face the falsest hearte, in the smoothest Tale the smallest Truth, and in the swéetest gloses moste sower ingratitude: Yea, I sée nowe (quoth hée) that in trust lyes treason, that fayre woordes make fooles fayne, and that the state of these fayned friendes are lyke to the Marygolde, which as longe as the Sunne shyneth openeth her leaues, but with the least [...] [Page] Clowde beginneth to cloase, lyke the Uyolettes in A­merica, which in Summer yéelde an odoriferous smell, and in Winter a most pestilent sauour: so these Para­sites in prosperitie professe most, but in aduersitie per­fourme least: when Fortune fauoureth they laugh, when shee frowneth they lowre: at euerye full Sea they flowrish, but at euerye deade Neape they fade: Like to the Fish Palerna, which béeing perfectlye white in the Calme, yet tourneth passing blacke at euerye storme: to the Trées in the Desartes of Aff [...]ica, that flourish but while the South winde bloweth, or to the Celedony s [...]one, which retaineth his vertue no longer than it is rubbed with golde. Sith then Gwydonius, (quoth hee) thou findes such falsehoode in friendshippe, and such faythles deedes in such paynted speaches, shake off these fawning curres with the flagge of deflaunce, and from hencefoorth trye ere thou trust. I, but (quoth hee) it is too late to applye the salue when the sore is in­curable to crye alarum when the Citie is ouer-runne, to seeke for couerte when the storme is past, and to [...] héede of such flattering mates when alreadie thou art deceyued by such fawning Marchauntes: nowe thou wilte crye Caue when thy coyne is consumed, and be­ware when thy wealth is wracked, when thou hast nothing wherof to take charge, thou wilt be chary, and when follye hath alreadie giuen thée a mate, thou wilt by wisedome séeke to auoyde the checke, but nowe thou tryest it true, that thy Father foretolde thée, that so long thou wouldest bée carelesse, as at last Re­pentaunce woulde pull thée by the sléeue, and then had I wyst would come to late.

Wel Gwydonius, sith that which is once past can neuer be recald againe, if thou hast by follie made a fault, séeke by wisdome to make amends, & heap not care vpō care, nor adde not griefe to sorrow, by these thy pittifull com­plaints, [Page 7] but chéere vp thy selfe and take heart at grasse, for the end of woe is the beginning of weale, & after mi­serie alwaies insueth most happie felicitie.

Gwydonius hauing thus dolorously discoursed wyth himselfe, remained not aboue ten dayes in prison, but that the Senate taking pittie of his case, and séeing no accusations were inferred against him, set him fr [...]e from his Purgatorie, and gaue him good counsaile that héere­after he shoulde beware by such witlesse prodigali­tie to incurre such suspition. Theseus neuer triumphed more after he had escaped the daunger of the perillous laborinth, then poore Gwydonius did whē he was set free from this pernitious Limbo, now the bitternesse of bon­dage made his fréedome seeme farre more swéete, and his daunger so happily escaped, caused his deliuerie seeme far more delightfull. Yet he conceiued such discourtesie a­gainst the Citizens, for repaying his liberall good will with such loathsome ingratitude, that the next morning he departed from Barutta, not stored with too much mony for molesting his minde, nor ouercharged with coine for [...]ombering his conscience with too much care, but hauing remaining of all his treasure onely that ring wh [...]ch his father gaue him, trauailing verie solempnly toward A­lexandria.

Where at that time there raigned a certaine Duke named Orlanio, who was so famous and fortunate, for the peaceable gouernment of his Dukedome, administe­ring iustice with such sinceritie, and yet tempering the extremitie of the lawe with such lenitie, as hée both gai­ned the good will of straungers in hearing his vertue, & wonne the heartes of his subiectes in féeling his bountie, counting him vnworthye to beare the name of a So­ueraigne, which knewe not according to desert, both to cherish and chastise his subiects.

[Page] Fortune and the fates willing to place him in the pallace of earthly prosperitie, endued him with two children, the one a sonne named Thersandro, & the other a Daughter called Castania, eyther of them so adorned with the giftes of Nature, and beautified with good nur­ture, as it was hard to knowe whether beautie or ver­tue held the supremacie. But least by this happie estate Orlanio should be too much puffed vp with prosperitie, Fortune sparing him the mate, yet gaue him a slender checke, to warne him from securitie, for before his daugh­ter came to the age of fourtéene yéeres, his wife dyed, lea­uing him not more sorrowfull for the losse of her whom he most entirely loued, then carefull for the well bring­ing vp of her whome he so déerely lyked. Knowing that as his Court was a Schoole of vertue to such as brideled their mindes with discreation, so it was a nurse of vice to those tender yéeres that measured theyr willes wyth witlesse affection, estéeming lybertie as perillous to the staie of youth, as precious to the state of age, and that no­thing so soone allured the minde of a younge maide to vanitie, as to passe her youth without feare in securitie. Feared with the consideration of these premisses, to a­uoyde the inconueniences that might happen by suffe­ring Castania to leade her lyfe in lawlesse libertie, hée thought it best to choose out some vertuous Ladie to keepe her companie, who might directe her course by so true a compasse, and leuell her lyfe by so right a lyne, that although her young yeares were verie apt to bée intangled in the snares of vanitie, yet by her counsell & companie, shée might steddelye tread her steppes in the trace of vertue, and none hée coulde finde more fitte for the purpose then a certaine olde Widdowe, called Ma­dame Melytta, honored for her vertuous life throughout all Alexandria, who béeing sent for to the Court, he salu­ted [Page 8] on this manner.

MAdame Melytta (quoth hée) the reporte of thy ho­nest conditions, and the renowme of thy vertuous qualyties are such, as thereby thou hast not onely pur­chased greate praise, but wonne greate credite through­out all the Countrie. Insomuch that I incensed by this thy singular commendation, I haue selected thee as the onely woman to whome I meane to commit my chie­fest treasure, I meane Melytta, my Daughter Castania, to whome I wyll haue thée bée both a companion and a counseller, hoping thou wilt take such care to traine her vp in vertue, and trace her quite from vice, to winne her minde to honestie, and weane her quite from va­nitie, that shée in her ripe yeares shall haue cause to thanke thée for thy paines, and I occasion to re­garde thée as a friende, and rewarde thée for thy dily­gence.

FIrst Melytta, so that shée leade her lyfe both chary­lye and chastly. Let her not haue her owne wyll, least shée prooue too wilfull, nor too much lybertie, least shee become too lyght. The Palme trée pressed downe, groweth notwythstanding but too faste. The Hearbe Spattania, though troden on, groweth verie tall, and youth although stricktlye restrained wyll prooue but too stubburne.

The vessell sauoureth alwayes of that lycour wherewith it was first seasoned, and the minde retay­neth those qualyties in age wherein it was trayned vp in youth. The tender twigge is sooner broken then the strong braunch, the young stemme more brittle then the olde stocke, the weake Bramble shaken with eue­rye Winde, and the wauering wyll of youth tossed [Page] with euerie puffe of vanitie, readie to be wracked in the waues of wantonnesse, vnlesse it be cunningly guided by some wise and warie Pylot.

Then Melytta, youth is so easily intrapped with the alluring traine of foolish delights, and so soone intangled with the trash of pernitious pleasures, suffer not my daughter to passe her time in idlenesse, least happily be­ing taken at discouert, she become a carelesse captiue to securitie (for whē the mind once floteth in y ^e surging seas of idle conceits, then the puffes of voluptuous pleasures, and the stiffeling stormes of vnbridled fancie, the raging blasts of alluring beautie, and the sturdy gale of glozing vanitie, so shake the ship of recklesse youth, that it is dai­ly in doubt to suffer most daungerous shipwracke. But let her spend her time in reading such auncient authors as may sharpen her wit by their pithie sayings, & learne her wisedome by their perfect sentences. For where na­ture is vicious, by learning it is amended, and where it is vertuous, by skill it is augmented. The stone of se­cret vertue is of greater price if it be brauely polished, th golde though neuer so pure of himselfe, hath the better coulour if it be burnished, and the minde though neuer so vertuous, is more noble if it be inriched with the gifts of learning. And Melytta for recreation sake, let her vse such honest sportes as may driue awaie dumps, least she be too pensiue, & frée her mind from foolish conceites, y ^• she be not too wanton. Thus Madame as you haue heard my fatherly aduise, so I praie you giue my daughter the like friendly aduertisement, y ^• héereafter she may haue both cause to reuerence thée, and I to reward thée.

Melytta hauing heard with attentiue héede the mind of Orlanio, conceiued such ioy in this new charge, & such delight in this happie chaunce, as with chéerefull counte­nance she repaid him this aunswere.

[Page 9] SIr (quoth she) although in the largest Seas are the sorest tempestes, in the broadest wayes most boy­sterous windes, in the highest hilles, most daungerous happes, and in the greatest charge the greatest care, yet the duetie which I owe you as my Soueraigne, and the loue I beare you as a subiect, the care I haue to please you as my Prince, and to pleasure you as a Potentate, the trust you repose in my truth without sufficient try­all, y ^• confidence you put in my conscience without sure proofe, the courtesie your grace dooth shewe mée without anie desert, haue so inflamed the forepassed fire of dueti­full affection, and so incouraged mée to incounter your graces courtesie, with willing constancie, that ther is no happ [...] so harde which I woulde not hazard, no daunger so desperate which I woulde not aduenture, no burthen so heauie which I woulde not beare, no perill so huge which I would not passe, nor no charge so greate, which both willingly and warily I would not performe. For, since it hath pleased your grace to vouchsafe so much of my simple calling, as to assigne me for a companion for your Daughter Castania, I will take such care in the charie performaunce of my charge, and indeauour with such diligence both to couns [...]ll and comfort Casta [...]a, as your grace shall perceiue my dutie in pleasing you, and my diligence in pleasuring her.

THE Duke hearing the friendly and faythfull pro­testation of the good Ladie Melytta, tolde her that al­though it were great trouble for one of her age to frame her selfe as a companion to such young youth, and that some care belonged to such a charge, yet hée woulde so counteruaile her painefull labour with princely lybera­litie, that both she and all Alexandria should haue cause to speake of his bountie.

[Page] MElytta thanking the Duke for such vndeserued cur­tesie, setting her householde affaires in good order, repaired to the Court as spéedely as might be. But lea­uing her with Castania, againe to Cwydonius.

Who now béeing aryued at Alexandria, pinched wyth pouertie and distressed with want, hauing no coyne left wherewith to counteruaile his expences, thought it his best course, if it were possible, to compasse the Dukes seruice, repairing therefore to the Court, he had not stai­ed there thrée dayes before hée found fit opportunitie to offer his seruice to Orlanio, whome verie duetifully hée saluted on this manner.

TYE report (right worthie Prince) of your incompa­rable courtesie and pearlesse magnanimitie, is so bla­zed abroade throughout all Countries, by the golden trumpe of Fame, that your grace is not more loued of your subiects which tast of your liberall bounty, then ho­noured of straungers, which onely heare of your prince­ly vertue. Insomuch that it hath forced me to leaue my natiue soile, my parents, kindred, and familiar friendes, and pilgrimelyke to passe into a straunge Countrie, to trie that by experience héere, which I haue heard by re­port at home. For it is not (right worthie sir) the state of your Countrie which hath allured me (for I déeme Bo­hemia, whereof I am, no lesse pleasant then Alexandria, neither hath want of liuing) or hope of gaine intised me, for I am by birth a Gentleman, and issued of such pa­rents as are able with sufficient patrimonie to main­taine my estate, but the desire, not onely to sée, but also to learne such rare curtesie and vertuous qualities as fame hath reported to be put in practise in your Court, is the onely occasion of this my iourney. Now if in recompence of this my trauaile, it shall please your grace to vouch­safe of my seruice, I shall thinke my selfe fully satisfied, [Page 10] and my paines sufficiently requited.

Orlanio hearing this dutifull discourse of Gwydoni­us, marking his manners, and musing at his modestie, noting both his excellent curtesie and exquisite beautie, was so inflamed with friendlye affection towarde this young youth, that not onely he accepted of his seruice, but also preferred him as a companion to his sonne The­sandro, promising that since he had left his Countrie and parents for this cause, he would so counteruaile his du­tifull desert with fauour and friendshippe, as he shoulde neuer haue cause to accuse him of ingratitude.

Gwydonius repaying heartie thankes to the Duke for his vndeserued curtesie, béeing nowe brought from woe to weale, from despaire to hope, from bale to blisse, from care to securitie, from want to wealth, yea, from hellish miserie, to heauenly prosperitie, behaued himselfe so wisely and warily, with such curtesie in conuersati­on, and modestie in manners, that in short time hée not hnely purchased credite and countenaunce wyth Or­lanio, but was most entirely liked & loued of Thersādro.

Now there remained in the Court a young knight, cal­led Signor Valericus, who by chaunce casting his glaun­cing eies on the glittering beautie of Castania, was so fettered in the snare of fancie, and so intangled with the trap of affection, so perplexed in the Laborinth of pinch­ing loue, and so inchaunted with the charme of Venus Sorcerie, that as the Elephant reioyceth greatly at the sight of a rose, as y ^• bird Halciones delighteth to view y ^e feathers of the Phoenix, and as nothing better contenteth a Roe buck, then to gaze at a red cloth, so ther was no ob­iect that could allure the wauering eies of Valericus, as the surpassing beautie of Castania, yea, his onely blisse, pleasure, ioy, and delight, was in féeding his fancie with staring on the heauenlye face of his Goddesse. But alasse her beautie bredde his bane, her lookes, his [Page] losse, her sight his sorowe, her exquisite perfections, his extreame passions, that as the Ape by séeing the Snaile, is infected, as the Leoparde falleth in a traunce at the sight of the Locust, as the Cockatrice dyeth with behol­ding the Chrisolito, so poore Valericus was pinched to the heart with viewing her comely countenaunce, was gri­ped with galding griefe, and tortured with insupporta­ble tormentes, by gasing vppon the gallant beautie of so gorgeous a dame. Yea, he so framed in his fancie the forme of her face, and so imprinted in his heart the per­fection of hir person, that the remembrance thereof would suffer him take no rest, but he passed the daie in dolour, the night in sorrow, no minute without mourning, no houre without heauinesse, that falling into pensiue passi­ons, he began thus to parle with himselfe.

Why how now Valericus (quoth hée) art thou haun­ted with some hellish hagge, or possessed with some fran­tike fury, art thou inchanted with some magical charme, or charmed with some bewitching Sorcerie, that so so­dainely thy minde is perplexed with a thousand sundrie passions, alate frée, and now fettered, alate swimming in rest, and now sinking in care, erewhile in securitie, & now in captiuitie, yea, turned from mirth to mourning, frō pleasure to paine, from delight to despight, hating thy selfe, and louing her who is the chiefe cause of this thy ca­lamitie Ah Valericus, hast thou forgot the saying of Pro­pertius, that to loue howsoeuer it be, is to loose, and to fan­cie howe charie so euer thy choice be, is to haue an ill chaunce, for Loue though neuer so fickle, is but a Chaos of care, and fancie, though neuer so fortunate, is but a masse of miserie, for if thou inioye the beautie of Venus, thou shalt finde it small vauntage, if thou gette one as wise as Minerua, thou mayst put thy winninges in thine eye, if as gorgeous as Iuno thy accompts being cast, thy gaine shall be but losse: yea, be shée vertuous, [Page 11] be [...]he cha [...]t, be she courteous, be she constant, be she rich, be she renowmed, be she honest, be she honourable, yet if thou be wedded to a woman, thinke thou shalt finde in her sufficient vanitie to counteruaile her vertue, that thy happinesse will be matcht with heauinesse, thy quiet with care, thy contentation with vexation: that thou shalt sowe séede with sorrowe, and reape thy corne with sadnesse, that thou shalt neuer liue without griefe, nor dye without repentaunce, for in matching with a wife ther is such mischifes, and in mariage such miseries, that Craterus the Emperour wishing some sinister Fortune to happen vpon one of his foes, prayed vnto the Gods, that he might be maried in his youth, and dye without issue in his age, counting mariage such a combersome crosse, and a wife such a pleasant plague, that he thought his foe could haue no worse torment, than to be trou­bled with such noysome trash. Oh Valericus, if the con­sideration of these premisses be not sufficient to per­swade thée: if the sentence of Propertius cannot quench thy flame, nor the saying of Craterus coole thy fancie: call to minde what miseries, what mischiefes, what woes, what wailings, what mishappes, what murders, what care, what calamities haue happened to such, as haue bene besotted with the balefull beautie of women, en­ioying more care than commoditie, more payne than pro­fite, more cost than comfort, more gréefe than good: yea, reaping a tunne of drosse, for euery dramme of perfect golde.

What carelesse inconstancie ruled Eriphila? what currish crueltie raigned in Philomela? how incestruous a life lead Aeuropa? and how miserable was that man that married Stheuolea? What gaines got Tereus in winning Progne? but a loathsome death for a little de­light. Agamemnon in possessing the beautie of Crecida, caused the Grecian armie most gréeuously to be plagued. [Page] Candaules was slaine by his murdering wife, whom so intyrely hée loued. Who was thought more happy than the husbande of Helena, and yet who in time lesse for­tunate? What haplesse chaunces insued of the chasti­tie of Penelope? what broyles in Rome by the vertue of Lucretia? the one caused her sutours most horriblye to be slayne, and the other that Tarquin and all his po­steritie were rooted out of their Regall dignities. Phae­dra in louing killed her haples sonne Hippolitus, & Cli­temnestra in hating slew her louing husband Agamem­non. Alas Valericus, how dangerous is it then to deale with such Dames? which if they loue, they procure thy fatall care: and if they hate thée, thy finall cala­mitie.

But ah blasphemous beast y ^• I am, thus recklesly to raile & rage without reason, thus currishly to exclayme agaynst those without whome our life though neuer so luckly, should séeme most loathsome, thus Tymon lyke, to condempne those heauenlye creatures, whose onely sight is a sufficient salue against all hellish sorrowes: is this right, to conclude generallye of perticular premis­ses, is it Iustice to accuse all for the offence of some, is it equitie to blame the staye of vertuous women, for the state of vicious wantons? Doost thou thinke Valeri­cus to shake off the shackles of fancie with this folly? or to eschewe the baite of beautie, by breathing out such blasphemie? No, no, assure thy selfe, that these thy ra­ging reasons, will in time be most rigorouslye reueng­ed, that the Gods themselues will plague thée for bray­ing out such iniurious speaches. Alas, Loue wanting desire, maketh the minde desperate: and fixed fancie bereaued of hope, tourneth into furye. The loyall faith I beare to Castania, and the loathsome feare of her in­gratitude, the déepe desire which inforceth my hope, and the deadlye despayre which infringeth my happe, so tos­seth [Page 12] my minde with contrarie cogitations, that I ney­ther regarde what I saye, to my harme, nor respecte what I doo, to my owne hurte: yea, my sences are so be­ [...]otted with pinching Loue, and my minde so fretted with frying fancie, that death were thrice more wel­come, than thus to linger in despayring hope.

And with that, to passe awaye those pensiue passi­ons, hée floung out of his Chamber with his Hawke on his fiste, thinking by suche sporte to dryue a­waye this melancholycke humour, which so molested his minde.

But as hée was passing thorough the Courte, hée was luckelye incountered by Melitta and Castania, who minding to haue some sporte with Valericus before hée did passe: had the onset thus pleasauntly giuen him by Castania.

IT is harde Signor Valericus (quoth she) to take you either without your Hawke on your fiste, or your heart on your halfepenie, for if for recreation you be not retriuing the Partridge with dogs, you are in solemne meditation driuing away the time with dumpes, ney­ther caring for companie to solace your sadnesse, nor ple­santly discoursing of some amorous Parle: which makes the Gentlewomen of this Court thinke, that you are either an Apostata to Loue, as was Narcyssus, or haue displayed the flagge of defiaunce against Fancie, as did Tyanaeus. If these their surmised coniectures be true Valericus, I warne thée as a friend to beware by other mens harmes, least if thou imitate their actions, thou be mangled with the like miserie, or maymed with the like misfortune.

Valericus hearing his Saint pronouncing this su­gred harmonie, féeling himselfe somewhat toucht with this quipping talke, was so rapte in admiration of [Page] her eloquence, and so rauisht in the contemplation of hir beautie, that he stoode in a maze not able to vtter on [...] word, vntil at last gathering his wits together, he burst foorth into these speaches.

MAdame (quoth he) what it pleaseth the Gentlewo­men of this Court to surmise of my solytarinesse I knowe not, but if they attribute it too curiousnesse, or coynesse to strangenesse, or statelinesse, either that I am an enimie to loue, or a foe to fancie, that I detest theyr bountie with Narcissus, or contempne their beautie with Tiancus, they offer me great iniurie, so rashly to coniec­ture of my disease, before rightly they haue cast my wa­ter. But to put your Ladiship out of doubt what is the cause of my dumpes, so it is that of late raunging the fieldes, my heart (my hawke I shoulde say Madame) ho­uered at such a princely pray, and yet myst of her flight, that since she hath neither prunde her selfe, nor I taken anye pleasure. Marie if the fates should so fauour me, or fortune so shrowde me vp in prosperitie, that my desire might obtayne her wish, I would not onely change my mourning to mirth, my dolour to delight, and my care to securitie, but I would thinke to haue gotten as rich a pray as euer Caesar gaind by conquest.

SUrely Signor Valericus (quoth Melitta) no doubt the pray is passing princely, since the valew thereof is ra­ted at so precious a price, and therefore we haue neither cause to condempne your Hawke of haggardnesse, for want of pruning, nor you of foolyshnesse for want of pleasure. And if your heart (your hawke I should saye Signor Valericus) hath reacht farther with her eye, than she is able to mount with her wing, although I am no skilfull Fawlconer, yet I thinke you had better kéepe her on the fist still and so féede her with hope, then let her [Page 13] misse agayne of her flyght, and so she tourne tayle and bée foyled.

In déede Madame (quoth Valericus) your counsaile is very good, for as there is no better consect to a crazed minde, than hope, so there is no greater corasiue to a carefull man than despaire, and the Fawlchoners also iumpe with you in the same verdite, that the Hawke which misseth her praye, is doubtfull to soare aloofe and prooue haggard. Yet if she were so tickle, as she would take no stande, so ramage as she woulde be reclaymed with no lure, I had rather happely hazarde her for the gayning of so péerelesse a praye, though I both lost her and wanted of my wish: than by kéeping her still in the Bynes to prooue her a kyte, or me a coward.

In déede Sir (quoth Castania), Fortune euer fauo­reth them that are valyant, and things the more hard, the more haughtie, hie and heauenly: neyther is anye thing harde to be accomplished, by him that hardelye enterpriseth it. But yet take héede that you fishe not so fayre, that at length you catche a Frogge, and then repentaunce make you mumble vp a masse with Mi­serere.

No Madame (quoth he) it is neuer séene that hée which is contented with his chaunce, should euer haue cause to repent him of his choyce.

And yet (quoth she) hée that buyes a thing to déere maye be content with his chaffer, and yet wish he had bene more chaire.

Truth Madame, (quoth Valericus) but then it is trash and no treasure, for that which is precious is ne­uer ouerprised, and a bad thing though neuer so cheape is thought too chargeable.

Oh Sir (quoth Melytta) and is it not an old say­ing, that a man maye buye golde too deare, and that Iewells, though neuer so precious maye bée set at too [Page] high a price. I sée if you had no better skill in manning of a Hawke, than in making of a bargaine, you would prooue but an ill Fawlchoner. But since we haue so long troubled you with our talk, we wil now leaue you to your sport, and so bid you farewell.

Valericus with a courteous Conge repaying theyr courtesie, and with a glauncing eye giuing hys God­desse the dolefull A dio, went solytarily into the secret woods, wher laying him downe in the shade, he fell into these musing meditations.

WHat greater prosperitie (quoth he) can happen vn­to any earthlye wight, than if he be crossed with care, to finde a confect to cure his calamitie: then if hée be pinched with paines, to get a playster for his passi­ons: if he be drenched in distresse, to finde a meanes to mitigate his miserye, which I sée by proofe perfourmed in my seelye selfe: for the sight of my Goddesse hath so salued my fore-passed sorrowes, her sweete words hath so healed my heauye woundes, that where be­fore I was plunged in perplexitie, I am nowe placed in felicitie: where before I was oppressed with care, I am now refreshed with comfort. O friendly Fortune, if from hencefoorth thou furiouslye frowne vppon mée, if thou daunt me with disaster mishappe, or crosse mée with perpetuall care, yet this thy friendlye courtesie shall bée sufficient to counteruayle all future enormi­tyes.

But alas, I sée euery prosperous puffe hath his boy­sterous blaste, euerye swéete hath his sower, euerye weale his woe, euerye gale of good lucke his storme of sinister Fortune: yea, euerye commoditie his discom­moditie annexed: the bloud of the Uiper is most health­full [Page 14] for the sight, and most hurtfull for the stomacke, the stone Celonites is very precious for the backe, and very perillous to the braine: the flower of India pleasaunt to be séene, but who so smelleth to it, féeleth present smart: so as the ioye of her presence procureth my delight, the annoye of her absence bréedeth my despight: yea, the [...]eare that she will not repaye my loue with lyking, and my fancie with affection, that she wil not consent to my request, but rather meanes to stiffle me with the ra­ging stormes of repulse, and daunt me with the doome of deadly denialles, so fretteth my haplesse minde with hellish furie, that no plague, no paine, no torment, no torture can worse molest me, than to be distressed with this dreadfull despaire.

Alas, her callyng is too high for me to clymbe vnto, her royall state is farre aboue my reach, her haughtie minde is too loftie for me to aspyre: no doubt if I offer my sute vnto her she will prooue like the Stone of Sili­cia, which the more it is beaten the harder it is: or like the spices of Ionia, which the more they are pounded the lesse sauour they yéelde, lyke to the Isiphilon, which yéel­deth foorth no iuyce though neuer so well brused: so, though I shoulde with neuer so great deuotion offer vp at her Shrine, prayers, promises, sighes, sobbes, teares, troth, faith, fréedome, yea, and my heart it selfe, as a pledge to pleade for pitie, yet she would make so small accompt of these my cares, and as lyttle regarde my ruth and ruine, as Eriphila did her faithfull friend In­fortunio.

But oh vilde wretch that I am, why doo I thus with out cause condempne Castania, why doo I accuse her of crueltie, in whome raigneth nothing but courtesie? why doo I appeach her of coynesse, in whome bountie shew­eth small curiousnesse?

[Page] How friēdly, how familiarly, yea how faithfully did she talke with me, what a chéerefull countenaunce did shée carrie towardes me, what sodaine glaunces, what loue­ly lookes, which no doubt are signes that though she re­pulse me at the first, she will not refuse me at the last: though she be straight in words, she wil not be strange in minde: though she giue me some bitter pilles of de­niall, it shall be but for the better tryall. And shall I then béeing fedde with this hope prooue such a meacocke or a milkesoppe as to be feared with the tempestuous Seas of aduersitye, when as at lenghth I shall arriue at the Hauen of happie estate: shall I dread to haue my shippe shaken with some angrie blastes, hoping to bee safelye landed on the shoare, and so haue my share of that, which the showers of shrewde Fortune for a time hath denied me. No, no, Dulcia non meruit, qui non gustauit amara. Hee is not worthye to sucke the swéete, which hath not first sauoured the sower: hée is not worthie to eate the kernell which hath not crackt the shell, hee deserueth not to haue the crowne of victo­rye, which hath not abidde the brunt of the Battaile: he meriteth not to possesse the praye, whih will not wil­lyngly take some parte of the payne: Neyther is hée worthye of so heauenlye a Dame as Castania, that woulde not spende the most precious bloud in his bo­dye, in the pursute of so péerelesse a péece.

VAlericus thus mittigating his paine with the milde medicine of hope, and rooting out the dead flesh of despayre with the Playster of trust, determyned to stryke on the Stythe whyle the yron was hotte, and to pursue his purpose whyle his Mystresse was in her good moode. And therefore leauing his sporte [Page 15] for this time, hied him to the Court in hast: where insi­nuating himselfe into the societie of the Ladies and gen­tlewomen, hée shewed himselfe in sport so pleasaunt, in talke so wittie, in manners so modest, in conceits so cun­ning, in parle so pithie, & in all his conuersation so come­ly, that whereas before hée was specially loued of none, now he was generally lyked of all: insomuch that for a time there was no talke in the Court but of the Meta­morphosis of Valericus minde. Who often times deter­mining in plaine tearmes to present his sute to Castania, when he came to the point, feare of offence and dreade of deniall, disappointed his purpose, that he remained mute in the matter: but at last perceiuing delaie bred daun­ger, séeing his mistresse sit alone in his presence, houering betwéene feare and hope, he began the assault with this march.

MAdame (quoth hée) for that I sée you sitting thus so­litarie in dumps▪ I am the bolder to prease in place, although the most vnworthie man to supplie it. Hoping you will pardon my rudenesse for troubling thus rashly your musing meditations, and count my companie the lesse offensiue in that I sée you busied with no such sery­ous matters whervnto my presence may be greatly pre­iudiciall. Cyneas the Philosopher, Madame, was of this minde, that when the Gods made beautie, they skipt be­yond their skill, in that they framed it of greater force then they themselues were able to resist, if then there is none so wise or worthie whome beautie cannot wracke, nor none issued of such princely birth, whom beutie can­not bend, though I haue bene intangled with the snare of fancie, and haue listened to the lure of beautie, I am the more to be borne with, and the lesse to bée blamed. For I must of force confesse Madame, that the giftes of nature so abundauntly bestowed vpon you, your excel­lent [Page] beutie and exquisite vertue, haue so scaled the wals of my fancie, and sacked the fort of my fréedome, that for my last refuge I am forced to appeale vnto your cour­tesie, as the onely medicine which may cure my intol­lerable disease. Nay incurable I may well call it, for (I speake with teares outwardly, and droppes of bloud in­wardly) vnlesse the missing showers of your mercye mittigate the fire of my fancie, the drops of your prince­ly fauour quench the flame of my affection, and the guerdon of your good will giue a soueraigne Playster for my secrete sore, I am lyke to passe my lyfe in more miserie, then if I had taken the infernall tormentes. But I hope it is not possible, that out of a Sugered Fount shoulde distill a bitter streame, out of a fra­graunt flower a filthie sappe, and from such diuine beautie shoulde proceede hate and hellish crueltie.

It is Madame your beautie which hath wrought my woe, & it is your bountie which must worke my weale. It is your heauenly face which hath depriued mée of lybertie, and your curteous consent must bée the meanes to redéeme mée from captiuitie: for as hée that eateth of the Briane leafe, and is infected, can by no meanes bée cured, vnlesse hée taste of the same roote: As hée which is wounded of the Porcuntine, canne neuer bée healed vnlesse his woundes bée washt with the bloude of the same beast, as there is nothing better against the sting­of a Snake, then to bée rubbed with an Adders slough, and as hée which is hurt of the Scorpion séeke a salue from whome hée receiued the sore, so Loue onely is re­medied by Loue, and fancie by mutuall affection: You madame must minister the medicine, which procured the maladie, and it onely lies in your power to applie th [...] plaister which inferred the paine.

Therefore I appeale to your good grace and fauour, and at the barre of your beautie I humblie holde vp my [Page 16] handes, resting to abide your sentence, either of consent vnto life, or of deniall vnto death.

CAstania hearing this solempne discourse of Valeri­cus, was driuen into a maze with this vnlookt for motion, musing that he would so farre ouershoote him­selfe, as to attempt so vnlikelye a match, and therefore with disdainefull countenaunce shée gaue gim this daunt.

AS your present ariuall Signor Valericus, dooth not greatly preiudice my muses, so I thinke it will as lit­tle profit your motion, and as your companie pleaseth me regarding the person, so it much misliketh me, respec­ting the parle: that your countes beeing once cast, you shall finde your absence might haue more pleasured you, and better contented mée. For it is vnpossible Valeri­cus to call the Fawlcon to that Lure wherin the pennes of a Camelion are pricked, because shée dooth deadly de­test them, it is harde to traine the Lyon to that trappe which sauoureth of Diagredium, because he loatheth it. And it is as impossible to perswade mée to enter league with fancie, which am a mortall foe to affection, and to vowe my seruice to Venus, which am alreadie addicted to Diana. No, no sir, I meane not to loue least I liue by the losse, nor to choose, least my skill béeing small I re­pent my chaunce. She that is frée and willinglye run­neth into fetters is a foole, and who so becommeth captiue w ^tout constraint, may be thought either wilful or witles. It is good by other mens harms to learne to beware, & to looke before a man doth leap, least in skipping beyond his skill, he light in the myre. Who so considereth the fickle­nesse of mens affections, & the fléeting fondnesse of their fading fancie, who carefully looketh at the lyghtnesse of their loue, and marketh the inconstancie of their waue­ring [Page] minde, who readeth the recordes which make men­tion of their déepe dissemblinges, faithlesse protestations, false vowes, periured promises, fained loue, and forged flatterie: how poore Ariadne was abused, howe Medea was mocked, how Dido was deceiued, how Oenone was reiected, and how Phillis was forsaken, and yet would be allured to the traine with such filthie scraps, I woulde count her chaunce too good, were her choice neuer so bad. But leauing these necessarie doubtes, Valericus, I tell you for troth, if I ment to loue, it is not you I meane to lyke, if affection forced me, it is not your person I meane to fancie, your patrimonie is not sufficent to counter­uaile my parentage, nor your bringing vp my birth, and therefore I would wish you to sow the séede of your sute in a more fertill soile, for in me you shall finde no grafts of graunt to growe, nor no consent to be cropped, for I neither lyke of your vnlikely loue, nor meane not to bée framed to your fancie.

Valericus béeing pushed with this Pike, thought it a signe of small courage to yéelde at the first foine, & there­fore looking more narrowly to his ward, and gathering himselfe within his weapon, he stoode to his tackeling with this replie.

MAdame (quoth hée) if you condempne me of folly for climing a staffe to high, or accuse me of fondnesse for laying my loue on a person of such princely parentage, if I séeme to make an ill market in cheaping such precious chaffer, as the price thereof is farre aboue my reach, yet my offence is too small to beare anie waightie penaunce, sith where the fault procéedeth of loue, there the pardon ensueth of course, but your beautie shall beare all the blame, as the onely spurre of this my rash enterprise. For as it is impossible for the yron to resist the operation of the Adamant, or the sily strawe the vertue of the suck­ing [Page 17] Ieat, so as impossible it is for a loner to withstande the brunt of beautie, to fréeze if he stande by the flame, or to peruert the lawes of Nature. So that madame if you kn [...]we what a breach your beautie hath made into my breast, and howe déepelye I haue shrined the Idoll of your person in my happelesse heart, I assure my selfe though my person and parentage, my birth and bringing vp be farre vnfitte for such a mate, yet you would déeme my loue and loyaltie to deserue no lesse. Loialtie I call it madame, for as all things are not made of one mould, so all men are not of one minde, as the Serpentine po [...] ­der is quickly kindled, and quickly out, so the Salaman­der stone once set on fire canne neuer be quenched, as the soft Waxe is apt to receiue euerie impression, so the hard mettall neuer chaungeth forme without melting. Iason was neuer so trouthlesse as Troilus was trustie, Paris was neuer more fickle then Pyramus was faythfull, Ae­neas was neuer so lyght as Leander was faythfull: And sure Madame, I call the Gods to witnesse, I speake without faining, that sith your beautie and vertue ey­ther by fate or fortune is so déepely shrined in my heart, if it please you to accept me for your slaue or seruaunt, and admitte mee so farre into your fauour, as that I may fréely inioy the sight of your sweete face, and féede my fancie in the contemplation of your beautie, in liewe thereof I will repaie such duetifull seruice, as the be­trothed fayth of Erasta to his Persida, shall not compare with the loue of Valericus and Castania.

CAstania hearing these perplexed passions procéede from wofull Valericus, pricked forwarde to take some remorse of his tormentes, felte within her minde a carefull conflict betwéene fancie and the fates: loue and the destinies, fancie perswaded her to take pittie of his pai [...]es, the fates forced her to giue him the repulse, Loue [Page] wisht her to retourne his good will with gayne, the de­stinyes draue her to denie his request, tossed thus with contrarie cogitations, at last she burst forth into these doubtfull spéeches.

VAlericus, as I am not altogether to reward thy good will with hate, so I cannot repaie it with loue, be­cause fancie denies me to like: to marie I meane not, to retaine seruaunts I may not. Marie to let thée either to loue, or looke, take this for an aunswere, I neither can nor will.

And with that shée went her waie, leauing Valeri­cus greatlye daunted with this doubtfull aunswere, with feare and hope so fiercely assailed, that béeing lefte alone, hée beganne thus to consider of his amorous conceites.

IF euer wofull creature had cause to complaine his wofull case, then vndoubtedly maye I preace for the formost place, for there is no sorrow more sower, no torment more terrible, no griefe more grieuous, no heauynesse more hurtfull, then to haue desire requited with despight, and good wyll with hate, then to like vp­pon hope of courtesie, and to finde nothing but hate and hellish crueltie.

Alasse poore Valericus, is thy true loue thus trifling­lye accounted off, is this the guerdon for thy good wyll? Doeth thy déepe desire merite no better desert, then hast thou no choice, but eyther to dye desperatelye, or else to liue loathsomelye? Why fonde foole, doest thou count her cruell, that at the first giues not a frée consent? Do­est thou thinke her coye that commeth not at the first call, wouldest thou haue the match made at the first mo­tion? Shée that is wonne with a worde, wyll bée lost with a Winde, the Hawke that bates at euerie cast of [Page 18] the Lure, wyll neuer bée steadfast on the stonde, the wo­man that frameth her wyll to euerie wishe, will prooue but a wild wanton. No, no, Valericus, let not her denials daunt thée, let not the sower tast of her talke quat thy queasie stomacke, conster all thinges at the best, though her censure was verie seuere, yet shée knitte vppe her talke wyth a courteous close. The hound which at the first default giueth ouer the chase, is called but a curre. The Knight that finding the first encounter comber­some, giueth ouer the quest, is counted but a coward, and the louer that at the first deniall is daunted with des­paire, is neyther worthie to obtaine his desire, nor inioy his desert. And with that hée floung out of his Cham­ber, both to auoyde the melancholy which tormented his minde, and sée if hée coulde haue a sight of his Goddesse.

But Castania altogether vnwilling to parle wyth her newe patient, kept her selfe out of his sight, which Valericus espying, was no whit amazed, but lyke a va­liaunt Souldier gaue the fort a fresh assault with a new kinde of batterie, séeking to obtaine that with writing, which he could not gaine with words, and therefore spee­dely framed a letter to this effect.

VAlericus hauing receyued this rigorous Letter from ruthlesse Castania, séeing with what great disdaine she reiected his dutifull deuotion, and howe with coye countenaunce and lowring lookes she rewarded his loy­all loue, hée beganne with reason somewhat to represse his rage, and with wisedome to redresse his witlesse follye, for comparing her crueltie with his owne cour­tesie, and her wilfull disdaine with his willyng du­tye, his disordinate desire beganne not onely to decay, but his extreame loue tourned to extreame hate, in so much that forced with despight, hée sent her in reuenge these raging lynes.

CAstania no sooner had read these despitefull lynes of Valericus, but her minde fried with the flames of furie, and her breast boyled with raging wrath, in such sort, that she coulde not be in quiet nor take any rest, she busied her selfe so carefully in studying with what kinde of reuenge she might best wreake her wrathe vp­pon him, and requite his spitefull speaches. At last wo­manlike, she found her tongue the best wepon, and with that she plagued him in this sorte.

VAlericus his heart was so hardened with hate, as he was nothing dismayed with this rigorous reply, but thought himselfe halfe satisfied, that he hadde thus

[Page 21] kindly toucht her to the quicke, praying the Gods, that sith it was not in his possibilitie to make any sufficient reuenge, they would by some sinister meanes requite hir crueltie. But leauing him to his dumpes, at last to Gwydonius, who besides the beautie of his bodie, and the bountie of his minde (whereat all Alexandria won­dred, had by good gouernment and perfect practise, ob­tained such a dexteritie in all things, as in feates of armes no man more forward, in exercise none more ac­tiue, in playe none more polliticke, in parle none more pleasant, amongst his auncients very wise, amongst the youthfull who more merrie: so that there was no time, person, nor place, whereto he aptly applyed not himselfe: insomuch that he entered into such fauour and family­aritie with Thersandro and Castania, that he was the onely man whose companie they desired to enioye. But especially Castania, who by casting a gazing glaunce some time vpon the beautie of Gwydonius, felte a cer­tayne restraint of libertie in her affections, an altera­tion of minde, and as it were a ciuill assault within her selfe: but hauing small practise in the pangs of loue, shée could not coniecture the secret cause of these her so­da [...]e passions, thinking that as it was a toye lyghtlye taken, so it would as lightly be left: and vpon this still she rested, conceiuing onely an ordinarie kinde of liking towards Gwydonius.

Who bathing thus in the streames of blisse, and safely harboured in the hauen of happinesse, wanting nothing which might content his minde, eyther for ple­sure or profite, thought it a poynt of méere folly, eyther to seeke or wish for more than inough, knowing that to strayne further than the sléeue would stretch, was but to make the arme bare, and to skippe beyonde a mans skill, was to leape, but not to knowe where to lyght: to auoyde therefore hastinesse in hazarding, hée fell a [Page] slumber in the carelesse seate of securite.

But as it is impossible for a man to sléepe by the Ui­per and not bée inuenomed, to gaze vppon the Cocka­trice and not be infected, to stare vppon the Sunne and not bée dazeled, to looke vpon Medusas head and not be transformed, to wade in the waues and not bée drench­ed, to handle coales and not be scorched, so it was as impossible for young Gwydonius to gaze vppon the beautie of Castania and not bée galled, to fire his eyes vppon her feature and not bée fettered, to sée her vertu­ous qualyties and not bée inueigled: for her courtesie hadde so incountered him, her modestie hadde so ama­zed him, and her charie chastitie so inchaunted him, that whereas hée came to Orlanio his Courte frée from affection, hée was nowe become a seruyle Slaue to Fancie, before a foe to Lust, nowe a friende to Loue: yea, hée felte such an alienation of his senses, and such a straunge Metamorphosis of his minde, as reason was tourned to rage, myrth to mourning, ioye to annoye, delight to despight, weale to woe, blisse to bale: in fine, such contrarye passions so perplexed this doubtfull Patient, as maugre his face, he yéelded the Fort to fan­cie, and pulde in the former flagge of defiaunce, intrea­ted for truce, and beganne to enter parle with Cupide on this manner.

O Gwydonius (quoth hée) what straunge chaunce, naye, what rare chaunge, what sollempne motion, naye, what sodayne madnesse, what foolish frensie, or rather what franticke affection hath possessed thée?

Is thy lawlesse lybertie tourned to a slauish captiui­tie? Is thy fréedome fettered? Are thy sences besotted? Is thy witte inueygled? Werte thou of late a defier of Venus, and arte thou nowe a defender of vanitie. [Page 22] Diddest thou of late renounce beautie as a foe, and wilt thou now imbrace her as a friende. Is this the carefull keeping of thy Fathers commaundement, or is this thy diligent duetie in obseruing the counsayle of thy olde Sire Clerophontes? Hast thou so soone forgotte his fatherlye precepts, or committed to oblyuion his friend­lye aduertisement? Did hée carefully warne thée to be­ware of Loue, and wilt thou carelessely wedde thy selfe to Lust? Did he shewe thée what poysoned ban [...] is hid­den vnder the painted baites of beautie, and wilt thou be haled to the hooke?

O haplesse case: naye rather, if the charye charge thy Father gaue thée, will be no constraint, if his coun­sayle will not commaunde thée, if his warning wil not make thée warie, nor his aduice be thy aduertisement: yet let imminent perills, and insuing daungers bée a precious preseruatiue against future calamities. Con­sider with thy selfe Gwydonius, what difference is be­twéene fréedome and bondage, betwéene libertie and captiuitie, mirth and mourning, pleasure and payne, rest and care, happinesse and heauinesse: and so farre dooth he which is frée frō affection differ from him which is fettered in fancie.

Why but Gwydonius, why doost thou thus reckles­ly rage against reason? Why doost thou thus fondly ex­clayme agaynst thine owne welfare? Why doost thou condempne thy selfe of that crime whereof thou art not guyltie.

Thy Father warned thée to beware of fickle fancie, but this thy lyking is firme affection. Hys counsayle was to perswade thée from leawde lust, but not from lawfull loue, from vanitie, not from ver­tue: yea, his will was to wish thée from lykeing such a lewd minion, who had neither birth, welth nor vertue, [Page] but a little fading beautie to be either her credite or thy countenance, not to warne thée from louing such a chast maiden, nay a péereles Princesse, whose birth may coun­tenaunce thy calling, whose power may promote thée, whose liuings may inrich thée, whose vertue maye ad­uaunce thée: yea, in obtaining whome, thou shalt gaine both honour, and perhaps the inheritaunce of a Duke­dome.

Doost thou thinke then Gwydonius in winning so worthie a péece, to purchase thy Fathers displeasure, nay assure thy selfe he will not onelye be content with thy chaunce, but he will thinke thou hast runne a hap­pier race, than Hyppomanes did in winning Atlanta. Content with thy chaunce? Why Gwydonius art thou so fonde a foole, as to count the Castle conquered, that as yet thou hast not compassed: to suppose the Citie sac­ked, which thou hast not beséeged: to thinke the bul­warke beaten, which as yet thou hast not battered: or to count the Ladie wonne, whome as yet thou hast not wooed. Nay Gwydonius, if thou weigh thy case in the equall Ballaunce, thou hast more cause of feare than of hope, of doubte than of assuraunce, of myssing thy pretence, than of obtayning thy purpose.

The Fawlchon ( Gwydonius seldome perketh with the Merlyne, the Lyon seldome lodgeth with the Mouse, the Hart seldome féedeth with the Pricket, A­quila non capit Muscas, and a Dame indued with No­bilitie, vouchsafeth not to match with a man of meane Gentilitie. Of meane Gentilitie Gwydonius? yea truely, for Castania rather thinketh thée sprong of some poore peasaunt, than of anye princely personage.

Besides, alas Fortune her selfe denieth me anye such fauour, my good will as yet hath deserued no suche gwerdon, my desire is farre aboue my deserts, [Page 23] my ambition aboue my condition, and the poore staye of wandering Gwydonius farre vnfit for the princely state of worthie Castania. But put case she did will as I did, wish that she wer pricked in y ^e same veine, caught in the same snare, trapped with the like traine, & fired with the like fancie, yet the Duke her father will neither condes­cend to her mind, nor consent to my motiō, neither think well of her liking nor of my loue, nay if he shoulde but once heare of such recklesse folly, as he hath wrought my promotion, so he would worke my confusion, as hée hath bene my friend, so he would be my foe, and in troth Gwydonius not without cause, for art thou so voide of vertue, or vowed to vice, so nursed vp in vanitie, or nus­led vp in villanie, as to requite his liberalitie with such disloialtie, to returne the trust which he reposeth in the [...] with such treason. Tush, Loue is aboue Lord or Lawe, friend or faith. Where Loue leadeth, no master is made account off: no king cared for, no friende forced off, no dutie respected, but all things done according to the qua­litie y ^• is predominant. Why Gwydonius, what doubts are these that thou thus dreamest on? Why dost thou cast beyond the Moone, and feare before thou art in daunger to fall: knowing that Loue and Fortune desireth not them that are dastards, nor careth not for them that are cowardes. The Captaine that retireth from the walls before he hath the repulse, shall neuer returne a conque­rour, the Souldier that fainteth before the battaile bée fought, shal neuer vaunt himself of victorie. He that fea­reth euerie tempest is not fit to be a trauailer. He that doubteth euerie waue shall neuer proue a perfect Py­lot, and he that in loue dreadeth euerie chip of mischance, may well encounter, but neuer obtaine the conquest.

Sith then Gwydonius, hardie venturing is a signe of happie victorie, sound out the march with the trumpet of trust, beginne the assault, giue the onset. Laie the bat­tering [Page] péeces of loue, against the bulwarke of beautye, and no doubt thy successe shall bée such as thou shalt tri­umph with Caesar and saie, Veni, Vidi, Vici. And art thou so presumptuous fonde foole, as to promise thy selfe the conquest, knowest thou not that the path of loue is perillous. And with that he fell into such melancholike passions, such contrarie cogitations, such doubtfull thoughtes, such fearefull supposes, that as hée which cateth of the Goorde roote looseth his memorye, and as the Elephaunt when hée eateth of the Helitropion leafe, is then verie sléepie, so Gwydonius was so perplexed with these vnacquainted passions, that contrarie to his custome hée hadde driuen mirth into mourning, plea­saunt conceites into painefull cares, laughing into low­ring, singing into sorrowe, as béeing thus besotted to solace himselfe, hée went into a Parke adioyning to the Dukes Pallace, where sitting vnder the shade of a béech trée, leaning his head on his hande, he laye as one in a slumber. But Fortune willing somewhat to fauour this young Nouice, brought it so to passe, that Tersan­dro, Valericus, Castania and Melytta, with diuerse other gentlemen, were for recreation sake, raunging in y ^e same Parke, who espying ghostly Gwydonius [...]itting as one in a traunce, Castania passing before the rest, pulling him by the sléeue, draue him thus out of his dumpe.

WHy how now Gwydonius (quoth shée) are you drea­ming or doubting, or is your minde musing vpon some metaphusicall motions, that you sit thus as a man half mortified, your solempne iesture makes me remem­ber the picture of Pigmalion, which once I sawe portray­ed out by a skilfull painter, who leaning his head on his Marble mistres, (that so vnfainedly he loued) sate wyth his [...]eyes as one in a slumber, hauing his face notwyth­standing so bedewed with brinish teares, as his outward [Page 24] plaintes did sufficiently bewraie his inward passions. In truth Gwydonius I had taken thée for Pigmalion, if thou hadst hadde teares as thou wert in a traunce, for thou doest not greatly differ from him neither in counte­naunce nor colour, wel if it were but a dreame Gwydo­nius, that thus combred thy conscience, or a doubte that made thée thus dumpish, I wil deuine the one if it be not to darke, or decide the other, if it be not too secrete, marie if the case be combersome, I leaue it to the iudgement of these Gentlemen.

GWydonius wakened out of his musing slumber wyth this sugured harmonie, séeing before his eyes his gor­geous Goddesse, the verie Saint, at whose shrine he was offering vp scalding sighes, farre fetcht sobbes, plaintes, prayers, and protestations, was so appalde with her pre­sence, that as the Basiliske looseth his sences with the sight of a naked man, as the Torteise séeing the North starre is benummed, as the Hermeline looking on the stone Echites is greatly amazed, so Gwydonius séeing the incomperable beautie of his best beloued Castania, was so astonished, yea, so inchaunted with the rare perfection of this heauenly Pallas, that as one besotted he sate sence­lesse, not being able to vtter one worde, vntill at length reuiued with the view of her chéerefull countenance, he repaide her with this pleasaunt aunswere.

MAdame (quoth he) whereas iestingly you saye, that at the first sight you had taken me for perplexed Pig­malion by my pittifull plaintes and carefull counte­naunce, but that I wanted trickeling teares to decypher my sorrowe, I aunswere, that woe may verie well bée wythout watrie wailinges, for when the Stone Ga­ratides fryeth wythout, it fréezeth within, the Ger­maunder leafe, when it is most full of moisture, looketh [Page] then most drie, where the streame is most déepe, there it is most still, and where is the smallest shewe of teares, there is the greatest signe of sorrowe. And also I call the heauens to witnesse, that when you wakened me out of my dreame by your diuine eloquence, I tooke you either for beautie to be Venus, for comelynesse to be Pallas, or for port and honour to be Iuno, so that both your pre­sence and curtesie daunted my minde, your presence in dazeling my eies so sodainely with so solempne a sight, your curtesie, in that your Ladyship without curiositie would vouchsafe to talke with so meane a Gentleman. But Madame, sith that I perceiue your skill in nauiga­tion to be great, in that you made so cunning a coniec­ture, and without anie great aiming, so rightly hitte the marke, to put you out of doubt, I confesse I was both in a dreame and a doubt, wherein sith it pleaseth your ho­nour to take so much paine, I will craue your aide to de­uine the one, and decide the other.

Castania hearing the surmised dreame of Gwydoni­us, both smelled the fetch, and smiled at the follie of this young youth, knowing that these fantastical visions and presupposed passions, would in time (if he tooke not héed) proue but too true, to preuent therefore such imminent perills, shée nipt her young nouice on the pate with this parle.

GWydonius (quoth shée) I haue listened to thy drousie dreame, with déep deuotion, by so much the more desi­rous attentiuely to heare it, by howe much the more I finde it straunge and wonderfull: yea, so straunge as if I my selfe had not wakened thée out of thy slumber, I would either haue thought it a fained vision, or a fanta­sticall inuention, but sith these Gentlemen héere present & mine owne eyes are witnesses, & thine owne tongue a testimonie of thy talke, suffice I beléeue it, though I can not diuine it: to giue a verdit where the euidence is not vnderstood is vanitie, to yéeld a reason of an vnknowen case is méere folly, and to interpret so straunge a dreame without great practise is but to skip beyond my skill, and so lay fast in the mire. Yet least I might séeme to promise much and performe nothing, I will decide your doubt if you please to take my doome for a censure.

It is a saying Gwydonius, not so common as true, that the hastie man neuer wantes woe, and that hée [Page 26] which is rash wythout reason, seldome or neuer sléepeth without repentaunce. To venture amiddest the Pikes when perills cannot bée [...]schewed, is not fortitude but folly, to hazarde in daungers, when death ensueth is not to bée worthely minded, but wilfully mooued. Uer­tue alwayes consisteth betwéene extremities, that as too much fearefulnesse is the signe of a quaking cow­ard, so too much rashnesse betokeneth a desperate Ruf­fian. Manhoode Gwydonius consisteth in measure and worthynesse, in fearing to hazard without hope. But to giue a verdite by thine owne voyce, I perceiue thou art guiltie of the same crime, for when the bricklenesse of the Bridge portended death, and the surging Seas in­ferred losse of lyfe, yet desire draue thée to aduenture so desperate a daunger. Better it is Gwydonius to liue in griefe, then to die desperatelye without grace: bet­ter to choose a lingering lyfe in miserie, then a spéedie death without mercie, better to bée tormented wyth haplesse fancie then with hellish fiends, for in lyfe it is possible to represse calamity, but after death neuer to re­dresse miserie. Tully Gwydonius in his Tusculans que­stions, discoursing of the happinesse of life and heauinesse of death, sayth, that to lyue we obtaine it of the louing Gods, but to die, of the vnluckie destinies: meaning heereby, that lyfe though neuer so loathsome, is better then death, though neuer so welcome: whereby I con­clude Gwydonius, that to liue carfully, is better then to die desperatly.

Gwydonius perceiuing that Castanias parle was nothing to the purpose, and that shée toucht not that point whereof hée desired most to bée absolued, but meant to shake him off wyth a flée [...]elesse aunswere, beganne to drawe her to the Trappe wyth this traine▪

[Page]MAdame Castania (quoth he) I confesse that rashnesse neuer raigneth without repentaunce, nor hastie ha­zarding without haplesse harmes, that he which aduen­tureth desperate daungers is a foole, & he that passeth ine­uitable perills is worse then an Asse: Yet from these so generall rules Madame, I exempt these perticular excep­tions, namely Loue & Necessitie, which two are tied w ^tin no bonds, nor limitted within no law, for whom y ^e diuel driues he must néedes run, be the passage neuer so peril­lous: and whom Loue or Necessitie forceth, he must ven­ture be the daunger neuer so desperate: for as there is no enterprise so easie which to an vnwilling man séemeth not verie hard to bée atchieued, so there is no incounter so combersome where will wisheth, that séemeth not pas­sing easie to bée perfourmed, nowe this will is with no­thing sooner pricked forwarde, then either with the force of Loue, or sting of necessitie. So that whosoeuer ad­uentureth in a daunger, though neuer so desperate, is not to be blamed, if inforced by fancie, or incouraged by affection, and especially where the perill is in possibily­tie to bee passed without death, and in the performaunce thereof, the possession of such a prise as the passionate person more estéemeth then lands, limmes, or lyfe it selfe, bée it neuer so swéete. In which case madame my cause consisteth. For the Ladie who was an heauenly obiect to my glasing eies, was so beautified with the giftes of na­ture, and so perfectly pollished with more then naturall perfection, that with the only view of such diuine beutie, my sences were so besotted, my wit & will so inueigled, my affection so inflamed, & any fréedome so fettered, yea, Loue alreadie had made so greate a breach into the bul­warke of my breast, that to obtaine so gorgeous a God­desse, I thought death no daunger, though neuer so dire­full, nor losse of lyfe no torment, though neuer so ter­rible.

[Page 27]In déed Gwydonius quoth Thersandro, I agrée with thée in this poynt, that there is no carpet Knight so co­wardly that wold not passe most perillous pikes to pos­sesse so liuely a Dame as thou doost decypher, nor no da­stard so daunted with dread which would not greatlye indanger himselfe to inioy so louely a damsell, in y ^• frui­tion of whom consisteth nothing but ioy, blisse, rest, con­tentation of minde, delight, happinesse, yea, all earthlye felicitie.

And yet Sir (quoth Gwydonius) your sister Casta­nia condemnes me of follye, in ventring for so precious a price, when as hope perswaded me, that no hazarde could be haples, and assured me that Loue and Fortune fauoureth them that are bold: that the Gods themselues séeing my perplexed passions, would of pittie defend me from those perillous daungers. For if Theseus by Di­uine power were ayded against the force of the mon­strous Minotaure, or if Iason, who constrained with a couetous desire to obtaine the golden Fléece, arryuing at Colchos, was preserued by the Gods, from the dint of the deadly Dragons, no doubt Iupiter himselfe woulde either haue made the staggering bridge more strong (cō ­sidering that no hope of wealth, no desire of riches, no gréedinesse of gaine, no loue of lucre, but beautie her selfe was the victorie I meant to vaunt of,) or els if I hadde sowsed in the roaring Seas, hée woulde haue prouided some happie Dolphin, that Arion lyke, I might arriue at the desired Rocke: and then my daun­gers should haue bene tourned into delight, my perilles into pleasures, my hazarding into happinesse: yea, I should haue possessed that heauenly paragon, and enioy­ed the loue of that louelye Venus, whose onelye sight were a sufficient salue, against all fore-passed sor­rowes.

Staye there Master Gwydonius (quoth the Ladye [Page] Melytta) for I sée to graunt one false proposition, is to open a doore to innumerable absurdities, and that by suf­fering you too long, of these supposed premisses, you wil inferre some cauillyng conclusion to your former rea­sons: thus I replye. That I confesse necessitie to haue no lawe, but I graunt not the same of Loue: for if it be lawlesse, it is leawde: if without lymittes, lasciui­ous: if contayned within no boundes, beastlye: if ob­serued with no order, odious: so that lawlesse Loue without reason, is the verye Load-stone to ruth and ru­ine.

Sith then Master Gwydonius as your selfe affirme, this was the pricke that pusht you into perill, how can the effect be good, when the cause was naught, or howe can you clearkly defend your desperate motion, procée­ding of such a fonde and foolish occasion. But it was the perfection of her comelye person, her exquisite feature, and rare beautie, that so kindled thy desire, and so be­witched thy sences: for, who is so fearefull that beautie will not make bolde? who so doubtfull, that beautie wil not make desperate? yea, what so harde that a man will not hazarde, to obtayne so diuine a thyng, as beautie.

Oh Gwydonius, hast thou not hearde the Fish Re­mora lystening to the sounde of a Trumpet is caught of the Fishers, that while the Porcupine standeth sta­ring at the glymmering of the starres, hée is ouer-taken with dogges, that the Deare gazing at the bowe is stri­ken with the bolte, that the Leoparde looking at the Panthers paynted skinne is taken as a praye, and that he which taketh too much delyght to gaze vpon beautie, is oftentimes galled with griefe and miserie. Yea, his pleasure shall inferre such profite, and his good wil such gayne, as if he reapte the beautifull apples of Tantalus, [Page 28] which are no sooner toucht, but they tourne to ashes.

Beautie Gwydonius, no sooner flourisheth but it fadeth, and it is not fullye ripe before it beginne to rot: it no sooner blossometh but it withereth, and scarcelye béeing toucht it stayneth, lyke to the Guyacum leafe, that hath the one halfe parched, before the other halfe be perfect: to the Birde Acanthis, which hatched white, yet tourneth blacke at the first storme: or lyke to the Stone Asti­tes, that chaungeth colour with the onelye breath of a man.

If then Gwydonius, Beautie be so fading, so fickle, so momentarie, so moouing, so withering, so waning, so soone passed, and so soone parched: is this the Iewell, which you count more déere than life? and the Iemme which you thinke worthie to be purchased with the dan­ger of death? No doubt Gwydonius, if you wonne the victorie, you might vaunt of a great Conquest, and if your long hope were repayed with a great happe, it shoulde bée much lyke to his, which thinking to em­brace Iuno, caught nothing but a vanishing clowde.

You doo well Madame (quoth Castania) to put an If, in it, because hée that vaunteth of victorie before hée hath wonne the fielde, maye prooue himselfe a foole: hée that bragges of gaines before the accompts be cast, may perhappes put his winnings in his eyes: and hée that bloweth the Mort before the fall of the Buck, may very well misse of his fées: so he that counts himselfe a spée­der before he be a wooer, sheweth himselfe a vaine per­son or a vaunting patch.

Might it not bée I praye you Master Gwydonius, that passing the bridge scaping the dangerous seas, & hap­pely arriuing at the desired Rocke, yet you might misse of your purpose? Yes forsooth: for many a man bendeth his bow, y ^• neuer killeth his game, laieth y ^• strap y ^• neuer [Page] catcheth the fowle, pitcheth the Net that neuer getteth the fish, & long time are heauie wooers that neuer proue happie speeders.

So perhaps Gwydonius you might be crossed with a chippe of the same mischaunce, and the gorgeous Dame whome you adore for a Goddesse might repaye your li­king with loathing, your loue with hate, your good will with despite and your fixed fancie with small affection, either that she lyked you too little, or loued another too much. All these doubts Gwydonius are carefullye to be cast, and wisedome it is to feare the worst, and finde the best: but you Sir like a lustie champion, thinke a La­die won at the first looke, and the good will of women gained at the first glaunce, thinking the Gods thēselues are to be accused of iniustice, if they be not ayders to your enterprise, insomuch that if in ventring ouer the perilous passage, you had by disaster Fortune fallen in­to the daungerous Seas, you doubted not but that Iu­piter would haue sent a Dolphin, that Arion like you might escape the fearefull surges: but Gwydonius bée not so ventrous, least though you harpe very long, you get not the like hap. These premisses considered, if my censure might stand for a sentence, I déeme it better to be counted a dastardly coward, than a desperate caitife, better to forsake your Goddesse, than your God, better to lyue pinched with a few momentarie passions, than with desperate death to destroy both soule and body: for there is no sore such which in time may not be salued, no care such which cannot bée cured, no fire so greate which may not bée quenched, no loue, liking, fancie, or affection, which in time may not either be repressed, or redressed.

Valericus hearing this rough replye of Castania, sup­posed that although she leuelled at Gwydonius, yet shée shot at him, and fearing the fort should be too much sha­shaken [Page 29] with this fearce assault, he stifly defended the walles with this fresh Alarum.

MAdam quoth hée, I se you will sit nye the wals eare you be thrust out for a wrangler, and that you will speake against your owne conscience, but you will haue the conquest: for my owne part Madame, howsoeuer I séeme to lyke it, I will not saye I mislike it, but I am sorrie you Madame Melitta shoulde so blasphemous­lye imblaze the Armes of beautie, and so recklesselye rayle against the sacred lawes of loue: sake héed [...] for crossing Cupid so crabbedlye, for though he for­giue and forget, Venus is a woman, and will s [...]eke re­uenge.

Valericus (quoth she) take no care what daunger I incurre for speaking the truth, if I chaunce to bee har­med, it is mine owne mishap, and for Venus reuenge I care for it the lesse because I feare it not: if I speake against my selfe, you may sée I am the fitter to bée a Iudge, because I am not partiall, nor haue any respect of persons.

These quippes Madame (quoth Gwydonius) are no­thing to the purpose, therefore in the behalfe of my selfe and beautie thus I answere. That as there is nothing that so soone procureth a man to loath as deformitie, so there is nothing which sooner perswadeth a man to loue than beautie, for the most precious stone is chosen by the most glystering hiew, the purest golde by the most per­fect colour, the best fruite by the brauest blossomes, and the best conditions by the swéetest countenaunce, so that where beautie raineth, there vertue remaineth, and vn­der a faire face resteth a faithfull heart. Sith then beau­tie and bountie cannot be parted, what man is hée so brutish, whom the least of these will not make to break or bende?

[Page] And wheras you condemn me of vanitie for vaunting before the victorie, I say, that if fortune had so fauored mée, that I had gayned the presence of my Goddesse, I would neuer haue doubted to haue obtained my desire: for if she had séene the desperate daunger which I aduē ­tured, and the fearefull perilles which I passed for her sake, she coulde not but of conscience, repaye my loue with vnfayned loyaltie, and my good will with treble gaine. And in troth I thinke it vnpossible, that such hea­uenlye beautie shoulde bée eclypsed with crueltye, and such perfect comelynesse be blemesht with curious coynesse.

Why Gwydonius (quoth she) doost thou call it cruel­tie, not to condiscende to the request of euerie one that wooeth, or doost thou tearme it coynesse not to yéelde to the assaulte of euerye flattering Louer, then in my iudgement it were good for euerye woman to bee both cruell and coye, that by crueltie she might auoyde the traine of trothlesse wooers, and by coynesse [...]schewe the troupe of faithlesse suters.

And so Madame (quoth Valericus) she should reape small comfort and lesse credit.

Tush Signor Valericus (quoth Gwydonius) it plea­seth her thus merelye to iest, whereas I knowe shée dooth accompt more of a courteous Dame, than of a curyous Damsell, and that her Ladishippe so detesteth the name of crueltye, that shée woulde bee loath to bée thought to haue a mynde deuoyde of mercie. And in troth to leaue these particular instaunces, women in generall, or for the most parte, are bountifull, courte­ous, sober, chaste, demure, not imbrued with vice, but indued with vertue: so that by howe much womens bodies are weaker than mens, by so much their mindes are more strong and vertuous.

What Gwydonius (quoth she) doo you thinke to bée [Page 30] a frée-man in Wales, for offering a léeke to Saint Da­uie, or to bring Pan into a fooles Paradise, by praysing his Pipe.

Not so Madame (quoth he) but I hope in extollyng a Souldiours life to haue Saint George to my friend, and in giuing verdit with Venus to gaine her good wil, and to reape the reward that Paris had for his censure.

Marie sir (quoth Castania) if you haue no better get­tings, you may gaine long inough, and yet liue by the losse: for in obtaining one friend, you shall reape two foes as Paris did, who was more plagued by Pallas and Iuno, than pleasured by flattering Venus.

And yet Madam (qd he) his mishap shall not make me to beware: for if Venus wold grant me but one Lady in the world, whom most entirely I loue, I would neither respect Pallas, Iuno, nor Diana her selfe, were she neuer so despitefull.

Yes but you wold (quoth she) if she pinched you but with Acteons plague, to pester your heade with as ma­ny hornes as a Har [...]. It wold cause you coniecture your new Mistresse were too much giuen to the game, or that thou wert come from Cornetto by discent.

Tush Madame (quoth he) doo you count Acteons hap such a great harme, the only sight in séeing Diana naked, was a recompense for all his ensuing sorrowes, and if my selfe might inioye my wish, and obtaine the heuen­ly Dame that so hartely I desire, the plague of Acteon, nay y ^e griping grief [...], y ^e ghostly spirits do suffer, shuld not counteruaile the ioye I shoulde conceiue in inioying so péerelesse a Iewell.

Truly (quoth Thersandro) thou art worthie Gwy­donius to be a chapman, that thou bids so well for thy chaffer, and in my minde she is not in Alexandria, who for her beautie is so to be loued, or at y ^e least wold déeme thée not worthy to be liked. But leuing these amorous [Page] discourses, let vs hye vs in hast to the Court, least in tarrying Orlanio misse [...] vs, and so we be shent. The com­panie obaying the minde of Thersandro, passed as spée­dely as might be to the Pallaice, where being arriued, they departed euery man to his owne lodging.

Castania had no sooner conueyed her selfe closely in­to her chamber, but her minde was moued with a thou­sand sundry motions, and she felt such a cruell conflict in her haplesse hart, by the assault of diuers contrarie passi­ons, that how stoutly so euer she defended the walles, she found her force too weak to resist the rage of so reck­lesse a tyrant. Now the prayers Valericus powred forth came to effect, now Venus meant to be reuenged for the crueltie she vsed to her valiant Captain Valericus, who so valiantly had fought vnder the flagge of affection, and yet could by no meanes preuayle. For Castania hea­ring the sugured Eloquence, which so swéetlye flowed from the sappie wit of Gwydonius, framing in her fan­cie the forme of his face, and printing in her heart the perfection of his person, was so intangled in the snares of Loue, as shée coulde by no reason redresse her mise­rie, but will shée, nyll shée, fell into these bitter com­plaints.

ALas witlesse wretch (quoth she) that I am, what fie­rie flames of fancie doo frie within mée? what desire, what lust, what hope, what trust, what care, what dis­paire, what feare, what furie? that to be payned wyth these perplexed passions, to me that neuer felt the force of them before, is no lesse dolour than death it selfe, bee it neuer so dyrefull. O Gods, where are nowe be­come those loftye lookes I vsed to Valericus? Where is the disdaynefull dealynges, the coye countenaun­ces, the curyous congies, the causelesse crueltie?

Yea, the harde heart, which so rigorouslye reiected the [Page 31] loue of him which so entirely liked me. Could I, fonde foole that I am, valiauntly withstande the assaults of a worthie Gentleman, & shall I cowardly yéeld to an vn­knowen straūger: did I loath him whose parentage was little inferiour to mine, and shall I loue another of base and vild birth: did I disdaine to looke at the lure, and shall I now stoope without stall, come without call: yea, and to such an emptie fist, O lawlesse Loue, O witlesse will, O fancie, fraught full of phrensie and furie. Alasse, if I should be so carelesse as to consent to this franticke toie, what will they say, that praised me for my vertue? will they not as fast dispraise me for my vanitie, wil not my father fret, my kinsfolke crie out, my friendes be sor­rie, my fo [...]s and especially Valericus, laugh me to scorne, and triumph of this my mishap: yea, wil not all y ^• world wonder to sée me alate giuen to chastitie, and now shake hands with virginitie, to yéeld my déerest iewell & chie­fest treasure into y ^e hands of a stragling straunger, who came to my fathers court without countenance or coine, wealth or worshippe, credit or calling: yea, who by his owne report is but a person of small parentage. Séeke then Castania to asswage this flame, and to quench this fire, which as it commeth w ^tout cause, so it wil consume without reason. For the greatest flowe hath the soonest ebbe, the sorest tempest hath the most sodaine calme, the hottest loue hath the coldest end, and of the déepest desire oft times ensueth the deadlyest hate: so that she which settles her affection w ^t such spéed as she makes her choice without discreation, may cast her corne she knowes not where, and reapes she wots not what, and for her hastie choosing, may perhaps get a heauie bargaine. Alasse, I knowe this counsaile is good, but what then? can I denie that which the destinies haue decréede, is it in my pow­er to peruert that which the Planets haue placed? can I resist that which is stirred vp by the starres? No, what [Page] néede I then make this exclamation, sith I am not the first nor shall not be the last whom the frantike phrensie of flickering fancie, hath with more wrong and greater vauntage piteously oppressed. What though Gwydoni­us be not wealthie, yet he is wise, though he be not of great parentage, yet he is of comelye personage, it is not his coine that hath conquered me, but his countenaunce, not his vading riches, but his renowmed vertues, & I far more estéeme a man then money: I but the Duke my fa­ther is not so base minded as to bestow me vpō so meane a Gentleman, he neuer will consent that poore Gwydo­nius shuld inioy y ^• which he hopeth some pearlesse prince shall possesse. What then? shall I preferre my Fathers weale before mine own wil, his liking before mine own loue? no, no, I will choose for my selfe whatsoeuer my choice be. Why but perchance Gwydonius will no more estéeme thee then thou didst Valericus, & repay thée with as smal fancy as thou him with affection. Tush, doubt it not Castania, thou art y ^• dame which he so deciphered in his dreme, thou art y ^• Venus which he saw in his visiō, y ^• art y ^• goddesse, whose beauty hath so bewitched him, y ^• art y ^• iewell to possesse, y ^• which ther is no hap so hard which he would not hazard, no daunger so desperate which hée wold not aduenture, no burden so heuie which he wold not beare, nor no perill so huge which he wold not passe. And shall not then Gwydonius be my seruant, sith I am his Saint, shall not I like him which loueth mée, sith he is my ioy, shall I not inioye him? Yes, Gwydonius is mine, and shall bée mine in despight of the fates and Fortune.

Castania hauing thus pittifully powred out her plaints would gladly haue giuen Gwydonius intelligence (with modestie if she might) of her good will towardes him, & god knows how faine Gwydonius wold haue discouered his feruent affection, if too much feare had not astonished [Page 32] him, & too great bashfulnes staied her. She therfore houe­ring betwéene feare & hope, perseuered so long in his pen­siue passions & careful cogitations, y ^• by couert concealing of her inward sorrow, the flame so furiously fried with­in her, that she was constrained to kéepe her bed. Wher­vpon Melytta coniecturing the cause of her care by y ^• co­lour of her countenaunce, thought to sift out the occasion of her sorrow, y ^• by this meanes she might apply a medi­cine to her maladie, & finding fit opportunitie, she brake with her in this wise.

Madame Castania (quoth shée) since I haue by y ^• Duke your father bene assigned to you as a companion, I haue in such louing wise both comforted & counselled you, as I hope you haue iust cause to say y ^• I haue most careful­ly tendred your estate, for perceiuing how willing you were to follow my direction, I counted your wealth my weale, your pleasure my profite, your happinesse my ioy, & your prosperitie my felicitie. Which friendly care if it wer [...] not to be considered, if I shuld shew you what great sorrow I sustaine by your heauinesse, you would iudge my words to procéede either of folly or flatterie, but if your sore be such as it may be salued, if your care may be cured, if your grief may be redressed, or your malady mi­tigated by my means, cōmand me good Castania in what I may to pleasure thée, & thou shalt find me so charely to performe my charge, as my willing mind shall euidētly bewray my well meaning. I see Castania, of late, such a straunge Metamorphosis in thy minde, as for pleasant conceits thou dost vse pensiue cogitations, thy chéerefull countenance is changed into lowring lookes, thy merrie deuises into mournful dumps, & yet I cannot coniecture no cause of this sodaine alteration. If want of riches should worke thy woe, why thou swimst in wealth, if losse of friends? thou hast infinit of noble parētage, which loues thée most entirely. If thou meanest no longer to [Page] leade a single life, no doubt thy father will prouide thée of such a princely match, as shall content thée for his per­son, and countenaunce thée with his parentage. But if in all these supposes I haue mist the marke, and haue not toucht the case of thy calamitie, vnfolde vnto me Ca­stania what the paine is that thus doth pinch thee, and as­sure thy selfe, I will be so secrete in thy affaires, as euer Lampana was to her Ladie Cleophila.

Castania hearing this friendly discourse of Melytta, thought for al this faire glose y ^e text might be to intricate, & that these painted spéeches would proue but rotten pil­lers, fearing therefore the fetch, and doubting the worst, if shée bewraie her minde, shée framed her this aun­swere.

MAdame (quoth she) the incomperable curtesie and vn­fained friendship which since your first comming I haue found in you by experience, will neither suffer mée to suspect your Ladyshippe of flatterie, nor my selfe wil­lingly to be accused of ingratitude, for your diligence hath bene so great, & my deserts so small, that if I might but liue to requite some parte of your good will, it were the second felicitie I looke for in this life. But touching the pensiue passions which thus diuersly perplexed mée, I aunswere, that as he which is wounded of the Bores tuske, if his sore take aire is verie hardly healed, as hée which stroken with a Scorpion if his wound take wind can neuer be cured: so madame, many inward maladies carry this nature, that if they be once discouered [...] they are far the more hardly recouered, that it is better to con­ceale them with griefe, then reueale them in hope of re­léefe.

Not so Castania, your principle is not true, for if your passions procéeded of loue, which of all other inward sores requireth greatest secrecie, yet vndoubtedly y ^• more [Page 33] it is discouered, the sooner it is cur [...]d, for as the sto [...]e of Armenia béeing couered with sande, burneth most ex­treamly, and no sooner taketh aire but it cooleth, so the fi­rie flames of loue raked vp in silence, frie most furious­ly, but béeing by discourse dis [...]losed, they soone conuert from flame to fume and smoke. Wherfore good Castania impart vnto me the matter which doeth import thée so néere, and I sweare vnto thée by the sacred rites of Cae­res, which is so honoured in Alexandria, that if thou doost loue where thy friends do not like, and thy wish be con­trarie to their will, yet I will séeke all meanes possible to redresse thy sorrowe.

Alasse good mada [...]e, rather then you shoulde thinke mée so incredulous or suspitious, as not to beléeue your oth, or doubt of your secret dealing, I will without delay make you priuie to the cause of my paine, what perill so euer I incurre by reuealing it. So it is Melytta, that the perfection of Gwydonius, his exquisite qualities, and ex­cellent vertues haue fiercely assaulted the fort of my fancie, as I am perforce constrained to resigne my liber­tie captiue vnto his curtesie, and to make his person the prison of my heart. This lucklesse and vnlikely loue ma­dame, is the cause of my care, & the sum of my sorrowe, this frantike affection hath driuen my drouping heart to shew forth these drousy looks, this is it which hath made me an enimie to my selfe, a foe to all good companie, & to delight in nothing but sorrow & solitarinesse: yea, this is the sore, which if in time it be not salued, will preuent by death all other miseries.

And is this (quoth Melytta) the paine that so greatly perplexeth you, is this the [...]re which so cōbers thy con­science? is this the daunger which driues thée into such deepe distresse? Doest thou thinke so supersti [...]iously of Gwydonius, or so abiectly of thy selfe, y ^• thou deemest this [...] impossible to be brought to passe: no, no, doubte [Page] not Castania, I my self dare absolutely promise thée, that thy loue shall sort to such happie successe, as thou thy self doest séeke for.

And with that Melytta staied by a sodaine sight shée had of y ^• Saint that Castania so hartely serued, for Gwy­donius was entering in at the chamber doore with a dish of delicates, which Orlanio hearing his Daughter was sicke, had sent her. Melytta séeing y ^• Cupid began to fauor the cause of his clients, in giuing them such fit opportu­nitie to discouer their cares wēt her way, leauing Gwy­donius y ^• first man to play his part in this tragicall Co­medie, who seeing his goddesse thus surprised with sick­nesse, was so galled with griefe, so pinched with hellish passions, & so tortured with extreame torments, y ^• his co­lour began to change, & he fetcht a deep sigh or two, which Castania hearing, she perceiued w ^tout touching his pul­ses, the cause of these his sodain passions. In fine, such me­lancholike motions so amazed his minde, that he was al­most mute in his message, yet at length incouraging himselfe, he presented it vnto her in this wise.

Madame (quoth he) the Duke your Father hearing of your sodain sicknesse, in token of his fatherly affection, a­mongst all his dainties, hath sent you this dish, which he thinks most méete for your diet, wishing your Ladyship to let no doubtfull motions distresse your minde, nor no carefull thoughtes cumber your conscience, for you shall lacke nothing if you reueale to him your want, which ei­ther your will or wish can desire. And truely madame, to manifest my willing duetie (if the prayers of a poore Gentleman may be heard of the heauenly Gods) I wish that before you tast of this foode, it may turne to Nectar, whereby not onely your sicknesse should be salued, but your diuine beautie and vertue according to desert shuld be crowned with immortalitie.

Castania perceiuing with what seruent affection [Page 34] Gwydonius vttered these wordes, began to chéere vp her selfe, in hope y ^• her good will should not be repaied with ingratitude, taking therfore the present at his hands, and liking it neuer the worse for his sake that brought it, she returned him this replie.

Gwydonius (quoth she) as I haue cause most reuerent­ly to accept of my fathers louing curtesie, & to repay his natural affection with most dutiful obedience, so I haue cause to thanke thée for thy paines, and to thinke wel of thée for thy wish, promising in recompence of thy good will, if in any respect I may plesure thée, to séeke and sue to my father for preferment.

Madame, I account the performance of my message no paine, but pleasure, and I think my selfe as much ho­noured by this office, & thrice more happie thē if I shuld in Ganimedes place present the cup to Iupiter. But Ma­dame, sith that to stop the streame, is to make the floud flow more fiercely, to represse the fire, is to make it flame more furiously, and to restraine the force of loue, is to kindle a greater flame, least too long delaie shoulde bréede too great daunger, and by concealing my sorrow I shuld make the sore incurable, I thought good either pre­sently to heare the curteous sentence of my lyfe, or the cruell doome of my death. So it is Madame, that too long gasing vpon the beames of your heauenly beautie, & to narrowlye construing ouer your vertuous conditions, I remaine so caught in the snare of your bounty, & so thral­led in the thridde of your vertue, that the staie of my life hangeth in your hands, either to driue me downe to hellish miserie, or to hoist me vp to heauenly felicitye. For although I haue not héeretofore by duetifull seruice made manifest the loyaltie of my loue, yet since I first framed in my fancie (as in a mirrour) the shape of your surpassing beautie, my heart hath bene crossed with such cruell Camizados for your sake, as if with the Target [Page] of hope, I had not withstoode the furious force of such ra­ging furies, I had by dispaire bene dashed against most dangerous rocks. Sith thē Madam y ^• sight of your swéet face hath fast fettered my fancie in the linkes of loue, as without your meanes I can neither bée redressed nor re­leased: I humbly desire you neither to resist the motion of my wel meaning, nor to reiect the deuotion of my good will, but to accept your poore Gwydonius as a faithfull seruant.

Castania hearing diligently the faithfull discourse of distressed Gwydonius, perceiuing by his sighes the pinch­ing sorrow of his thoughts, and séeing him to fast fettered in folly, on a sodaine to giue her the slip, had that she desi­red, and now her louing lookes was tourned to lowring glances, her delightfull curtesie, to disdainfull coynesse, & she thought to repaie the swéet meate wherewith before she feds him, with most sowre sauce, not that she misliked of his loue, for it was the onely thing she desired, but to make him the more feruent in affection, vttering these or such like words to her selfe secretly.

And is not Castania the victory most accounted of, wher the conquest is most doubtful? is not the castle which abi­deth the longest battery thought the richest bootie, are not those pearles which are scarcely found & hardly gotten, euer of the greatest value, what so is gained by p [...]rill, is thought alwaies precious, hardly come by, warily kept. The Maide that by long sute and much trauaile is ob­tained, by how much the more she was hard in the win­ning, by so much the more she will be swéet in the wea­ring, she which in her virginitie is charie of her chastiti­tie, in her marriage wil be as warie of her honestie, ther­fore I will qualifie y ^e hot loue of Gwydonius with a cold potion, & with that she made him this waspish answere.

Why Gwydonius, shal the olde Prouerbe be verified in thee, that the Priest forgets himselfe that euer he was [Page 35] a Clearke, that too much [...] bréedes contempt. I sée well if Appelles that cunning Painter suffer the greasie Sowter to take a view of his curious worke he will grow so malapert, as to meddle with his picture: if the proud Centaure Ixion be bidden to the Feast of the Gods, no lesse then Iuno her selfe wil suffice him for his choyce.

Set a beggar on horse-backe they saye, and he wyll neuer alyght. Extoll one of base stocke to any degrée of dignitie, and who so proud and haughtie. I speake this Gwydonius to thy reproofe: is thy stomacke alate wax­en so queasie, that no diet will downe but my Fathers owne dish? will no meanor mate suffice thee, vnles thou match with a Prince? is there no Ladie will like thée, but my loue? is there no courser Dame to couet, vnlesse thou courte vnto me? Did my Father promote thee to this thou art from the state of a begger, and wilte thou now presume to be my better? Hau [...] my lookes bene so louing, my rountenaunce so courteous, my glaunces so full of good will, as to promise so much as thou dost pre­sume? No: but one only countenance in a seruile mind [...] too much incouragement. Doost thou thinke Gwydo­nius; that I accompt so meanelye of my person; as to match with a man of thy pi [...]ch [...] I so [...] [...]acke my credite, as to c [...]mber my selfe with one of th [...] callyng? Shall I so stayne my state, as to stoope to thy lure? No: where is thy coyne to maintaine my coun [...]enaunce? Where is thy wealth to vphold my worship? Where is thy patrimonie to counteruayle my personage? But put [...]ase I accepted of thy sute: d [...]t thou thinke euer to gaine my fathers good will? doost thou thinke it is p [...]s­s [...]b [...]e to compasse his consent? dost thou hope euer to take him in such a vaine as he will be willyng to giue his verdit on thy side. No Gwydonius, but if he were pri­uie to this thy presumption, he would repaye thy follye [Page] with too much furie, he would vnplume thée of all his feathers, that like Aesops Crowe thou mightst receiue the reward of thy rashnesse. If therfore thou loue thine owne welfare keepe thy selfe within thy boundes, and striue not farther than thy sléeue will stretch, least in climing too high, thou catch the sorer fall.

Castania hauing thus sharply shaken vp my young youth Gwydonius, thought she had giuen him a suffici­ent cooling Carde: but he no whit dismayed with thys denial, like a lustie champion entred pece mele with her in this wise.

Madame (quoth he) the poore shoomaker was not bla­med for viewing Appelles picture, but because in find­ing fault he went beyond his shooe: the Centaure Ixi­on was not reprooued for his familiaritie with Iuno as he was a guest, but in that his sute tended to the sacke­ing of her honestie: familiaritie neuer bréedes contempt in a good mind, neither am I to be accused of y ^• crime, for the most seruile slaue in Alexandria (I call the heauens as witnesses of my wordes) dooth not with more louing duetie reuerence and honour your person and paren­tage, then doth your poore seruaunt Gwydonius. Well Madam though my nature and nurture be such in your sight, as they bewray my bringing vp and birth to bée so base, as if I meane to draw my discent, I must (as you say) imblaze mine armes in the beggars coate, yet thus much I aunswere in respect of my parents and without arrogancie thus farre I stande on my pantuffles, that the credit I haue in your Fathers Court, is not coequal with the calling I haue in my owne countrey, if I did not count it more great credite and honour, in that I haue sometime inioyed a curteous countenance of your swéete selfe, since my comming. But if I were the most famous Prince in the world, I so estéeme your deuine beautie and exquisite vertue, as I would thinke my self [Page 36] farre vnworthy to possesse such heauenlye perfection: which if I could obtaine, the displeasure of your Father could no whit discourage mée, his thundring threates could no whit amaze me: no, death it selfe could neuer daunt my minde, were it neuer so despitefull. But who (say you) can lay their loue wher is no desert, and wher want bréeds a flat deniall?

Ah Castania, Nature by her secret motion, hath indu­ [...]d all creatures with some perfect qualities, to supplye that what which bréedes misliking. The Moule depri­ued of sight hath a wonderfull hearing, the Hare being very fearefull is most swifte, the fish hauing no eares, hath most cléere eyes: so though want of dignitie dis­grace me, though want of coyne discountenaunce me, though lacke of wealth impaires my credite, yet Nature hath giuen me such a loyall and louing heart, as I hope in the perfection of that, she hath supplyed the want of all the rest: so that Madame though I want coyne I do not want constancie, though I haue no lands, yet I lack not loyaltie, though I want wealth, yet I want not wil to ende my life to doo you good, or spend my time to doo you seruice.

GWydonius hauing thus pithely replyed, draue Casta­nia into a great doubt, whether she should presentlye consent to his demaund, or still driue him off with de­layes, whether she shuld yeelde the fort at the first skir­mish, or stand to the doubtful euent of battaile: at length least she shuld digresse from the course of womankinde, she thought best to denie that she most of all desired, and therefore then gaue him this aunswere.

GWydonius (quoth she) in what state you came to my Fathers Court I know, what you are by discent I knowe not, nor I care not, and if I did, it auayl [...]th [Page] not, but this I saye, that it is harde taking of Fowle, when the net is discryed, and ill catching of Fish, when the hooke is bare: impossible it is Gwydonius to inferre beléefe, where no credite will be giuen, and to deceyue her that spieth thy fetch: when the string is broken, it is hard to hit the white, and when a mans creditte is called in question, perswasions can little preuaile. It is a religion amongst louers to sweare and forsweare, to promise mountaines and perfourme moulhilles, to bée ripe without and rotten within, to carrie a rustie blade in a veluet scabberde, and a siluer Bell with a leaden clapper. Therefore Gwydonius I had rather mistrust too soone, than mislyke too late, I had rather feare my choice than rue my chaunce, I had rather stop at the brimme, than at the bottome: for the signet being set, it is too late to breake the bargaine, and fancie being once fixt, it is too late to reclayme affection. For the loue of a wo­man is lyke the Oyle of Flynt, which being once con­gealed will neuer be dissolued, like the Diamonde, which being once rubbed with the gum of a Pine trée, will neuer be broken: so if I fancie any, sith I meane not to fléete, it shall bée such a one, as I néede not re­pent me.

And whereas you say Gwydonius, that in despight of Fortune, Nature hath giuen you a louing heart, I my selfe surely did neuer déeme any lesse, but thought you of the crue of those louers that loue too much, ha­uing as manie Ladies as they haue wits, and that is not a fewe, who count that euery face must haue a new fancie, and if they sée a thousand the [...] must be all view­ed with a sigh, which considered Gwydonius, I meane not to like nor to loue neither you nor any other.

AND shall then Madame (quoth he) my merite be re­payed with no [...]eede, shall my good will be requited [Page 37] with no gain? shall I haue in lieu of my loue no liking? will you so swar [...]e from [...]ustice, as not to giue euerye one according to his desert? at the least recommpence? not desire with despight, and heartie loue with loathing hate, for as the Poet sayeth. ‘Quis enim succenset a­manti.’

Well Gwydonius, as I will not be thy priuie friend, so I will not be thine open foe, and as I cannot be so curteous as to requight thee for thy paines, so I wil not be so cruell as to despight thée for thy presumption, and whereas thou crauest gaines for thy good will, I am content to remaine thy vnwilling debter.

Yet Madame (quoth he) where the debt is confest, ther remaineth some hope of recouerie, for though y ^• cre­ditor be neuer so vnwilling to pay the debt being due, hée shall by constraint of lawe and his owne confessi­on, ( [...]augre his [...]ace) be forced to make restitution.

Truth Gwydonius (quoth she) if he commence his ac­tion in a right case, & the plea he puts in, proue not im­perfect. But yet take this by the way, it is hard for that plaintiffe to recouer his costs, where the defendant bëe­ing Iudge sets downe the sentence.

Gwydonius feeling himselfe pincht to the quick with this pretie quip made no further reply, but l [...]st his l [...]ng tarying might bréed suspition, wishing his Mistres wel­fare, tooke his leaue very solempnly and sorrowfully, of Castania, who séeing him gone and her selfe alone, be­gan thus to muse and meditate vppon the sharpe aun­sweres she had giuen her best beloued Gwydonius.

WHy Castania,what franticke follye hath made thée thus far to forget thy self. Is the bird inticed to the s [...]rappe by the [...]ew of the nettes, is the Foxe allured to the [...]al [...] by the [...] of the trappe, will the Mouse [...]ch [...]nder that Ensigne, where the Cat proclaymeth [Page] her selfe Captaine? will the silly Doue lay her egges in the Fawlchons neast? or is it the meanes to haue him to thy friend, whome with bitter blowes thou doost re­buke: is there no other call for courtesie but crueltie? doost thou finde no fitter meanes to obtain a reasonable request but by a rigorous repulse? or is it the nature of women to defie that outwardly which they most desire inwardly, to loath that in their mouth, which they loue in their minde, to reiecte that with their hande, which they most willingly would receiue in their heart? Doost thou thinke Castania to drawe Gwydonius to thy desire, by detesting him? Doost thou thinke to allure him to thy loue, by loathing him? Doost thou suppose to winne him to thy will by these waspish aunsweres? No: and what, doost thou know what perill will insue of this re­pulse, what daunger will followe of this denyall? Is it lyke he will put it vp patiently? No sure, either looke to haue his extreame loue tourned to extreme hate, or that he will persist no longer in the pursute of his purpose. Oh would to God Gwydonius, thou wert againe to be­gin thy demaund, and I to frame mine aunswere: then would I salue thy sores with swéet strops, not with cut­ting corasiues: then wold I mittigate thy maladie with easie medicines, not with pinching playsters: then wold I comfort thée with consent, not daunt thée with deny­alls. But alas, had I wist now comes too late, & there­fore Castania if thou hast made a fault, séeke to make a­mends, and recompence this his iniurie with most friēd­ly courtesie.

And with that came Melitta, who comforting Casta­nia, passed away the rest of the day in parle.

But Gwydonius, who all this while had a flea in his eare, was driuen into a quandarie with the taun­ting quips of his Mistresse, fearing that although his ac­compts [Page 38] were great, his gaines should be little, & though he made a very long haruest, yet he shoulde reape but a very small croppe, thinking that vnder such sower spée­ches, a sugred minde could not be contained: yet at last entring into déeper consideration with himselfe, he fell into these tearmes.

But by the swéete (quoth he) how should we know the sower: but by the blacke how should we know the white: he neuer greatly accompteth of prosperitie which hath not bene before pinched with aduersitie: which per­chaunce Castania meanes to make me trye by expery­ence, thinking to féede me first with bitter broaths, that her after daintie fare may more delight me: to daunt me with the raging stormes of deniall, that the calme of her consent may more content me: to make mée tast the bitter pills of annoy, that héerafter I may enioy the greater ioy: for the chilling cold of Winter makes the sprowting spring time séeme farre more pleasaunt, the parching heate of Summer, makes the coole shade more delightfull, and the frowning lookes of Castania, will make her smiling countenaunce séeme more chéerefull. Then cease not Gwydonius to pursue thy sute with end­lesse paine, either to enioy her curtesie, or tast of her cru­eltie, to thy great happinesse or extreme heauinesse.

GWydonius thus like a valiant champion, neuer ama­zed with any chip of misfortune, neuer feared to giue the assault for all the first repulse, but onely sought op­portunitie how he might in close combat once again in­counter with Castania, vowing either to return w ^t some signe of victorie, or els to put lim and life in hazard. But fortune meaning plesantly to sport w ^t this yoūg nouice, wold neuer minister such fit occasiō, y ^• he might haue so­litary accesse to his goddes, for Castania of pretēded pur­pose [Page] so warely auoided his companie, and with such dis­dainfull lookes so reiected his dutie, as Gwydonius was constrained to séeke his course, by a new compasse, dely­uering vnto one of her maides a friendly letter to this effect.

CAstania hauing receiued this Letter from her assured friend Gwydonius, although she perceiued by the con­tents [Page] that his loue was not counterfait, but constant: not lyght, but loyall: not floting, but faithfull: and that she should not finde him immutable in prosperitie, which was so permanent in aduersitie. Yet (whether it were for coynesse in consent, or charinesse of choise I knowe not) she once againe thought to sound him more deeper, to kéepe out still the flagge of defiaunce, and to spende one Uollée of shot in the face of her enimie, to sée if a hot skirmish would make him flie the field. And if lyke a valiaunt souldier he did manfully march on, and not re­fuse the brunt of the battaile, shée woulde then resigne the fort of her fréedome into his hands, and yéelde vp the bulwarke of her breast, which so long he had battered, that triumphauntly he might set vp Trophees in signe of a most victorious conquest. To put therefore the mat­ter in question, she returned him this answere.

Gwydonius hauing viewed and reuiewed ouer this Letter, seeing y ^• rigorous resolution of his mistres, could by no meanes be remoued, and that a most seuere sen­tence was pronounced against him by a most iniurious Iudge, was driuen into a doubt whether he should styll with plaints sue for pittie, or else blasphemously exclaim against her brutish crueltie, whether he should bewraie his parents and parentage to the Duke and her, or still stand to the doubtfull chaunce of Fortune, to pursue his purpose still with plaints, her hellish crueltie perswaded him: to blaspheme against her, the sinceritie of his lou [...] would not let him: to bewraie his birth, diuerse daun­gers might insue: to stand to the chaunce of Fortune, was still to hazard without hope: combred thus with di­uers cogitations, at last he determined to breake vp the batterie, and to laie too an [...] hold, but to returne with as much speede as might be to his father Clero­phontes Court, there by absence to mittigate the mala­die which so grieuously molested him: yet he thought be­fore his departure to giue her a friendly farewell, that might both confirme his constancie, and condempne her crueltie, which he framed to this effect.

THis Letter being most luckelye deliuered into the hands of Gwydonius, I leaue you to iudge Gentle­mē into what a quādarie this yoūg youth was brought to see such a sodaine chaunge, and so happie a chaunce, as to haue his hellish bale requited with heauēly blisse, his despightfull annoy, with delightfull ioye: his hea­uinesse with happinesse, and doubtfull despaire tourned to assured hope: to sée Fortune which of late defied him as a foe, now to imbrace him as a friend, and to will that he did wish: to sée his mistres crueltie tourned to curtesie, her disdaine to desire, her bitter pilles to sugu­red potions, her stormie repulses to calme consent, and her contemptuous protestations, to most constant pro­mises. For if the carefull captiue, who by the doome of the Iudge expecteth each hower to die, reioyceth when he heareth his pardon pronoūced, no doubt Gwydonius ioye could be no losse, sith deniall was his death, and consent the conserue to heale his wounds: the greater care, the greater ioye, the more paine the greater pleasure, the more hellish miserie the more heauenly felicitie. Yea, Gwydonius was driuen into such an extasie for ioy, that he was in doubt, whether this letter was preferred to [Page] [...] [Page 43] [...] [Page] him in déede, or presented to him in a Uision, whether hée were wrapte into a Traunce, or ra­uished with some drowsie slumber: but at last percei­uing it to be no fained fantasie, such a déep desire infor­ced his affection, as he thought euery moment a month, euery houre a yeare, euerye daye a thousande, vntill hée might fréely enioy the presence and sight of his loue and Ladie Castania. Fortune meaning to aduaunce him to the toppe of her inconstant whéele, brought it so to passe, that before the wéeke was ended, he spied Castania wal­king alone in the garden: which sodaine sight so reui­ued his sences, y ^e without anye dread or doubt he man­fully marcht on towards her, and was as hastely & har­tely incountred by Castania: who embracing Gwydo­nius in her armes, welcommed him with this salutation.

AS the Whale (Gwydonius) maketh alwayes signe of great ioye at the sight of the fish called Talpa Ma­rina, as the Hynde greatlye delyghteth to sée the Leo­parde, as the Lion fawneth at the viewe of the Uni­corne, and as he which drinketh of the Fountaine Hy­penis in Scithia, féeleth his mind so drowned in delight, that no greefe though neuer so great, is able to asswage it: so Gwydonius I conceiue such surpassing pleasure in thy presence, and such heauenlye felicitie in the sight of thy perfection, that no miserie though neuer so mon­strous is able to amaze me, no dolour though neuer so direfull is able to daunt me, nor no mishap though ne­uer so perillous, is able to make me sinke in sorrow, as long as I inioy thy presence, which I count a soueraine preseruatiue against all carefull calamities. That as he which tasteth of the hearbe Hyacynthus is neuer com­bred with care, and as he that weareth the stone Aga­thes about him, is surely defenced against all insuing sorrrowes, so inioying the sight of thy séemely selfe, and [Page 44] féeding mine eyes with the forme of thy feature, I think my selfe sufficiently shrowded against all the tempestu­ous showers of sinister fortune. And to proue these my promises to be no fained vanities but faithfull veritie, I commit my selfe, my stay, and state into thy hands to dispose of me at thy plesure, wishing rather to liue with thée in most distressed penurie, than to linger héere in most fortunate prosperitie.

GWydonius listening attentiuely to this sugred har­monie, was so rauished with the sight of her sweete face, and so rapt into a traunce with the contemplation of her beautie, that as the Lyon tasting of the gumme Arabicke becommeth senselesse, as the Bul by browsing on the barke of a Iuniper trée falleth a sléepe, as the Ca­mill standeth astonished at the sight of a Rat: so Gwy­donius séeing in his armes the Saint whom in heart hée did honour, and imbracing the Goddesse whome with most déepe deuotion hée did adore, was so amazed, that he was not able to vtter one worde as witnesse of his happinesse, vntill at last gathering his wits together, he beganne thus to reply.

CAstania (quoth hée) it is an axiome in Philosophie, that the colour ioyned hard to the sight, hindereth the sence, the flower put into the nosethrill stoppeth the smelling, the Wine vessell béeing full, lets passe no wine though neuer so well vented, the water-pot béeing fil­led to the brimme, yeeldes forth no licour, though hauing a thousand holes: so where the minde is surcharged with ouermuch ioy, or too much pleasure, there the tongue is both tied, and the sences so restrained, that the heart is neither able to conceiue the ioye, nor the tongue able to expresse the pleasure. Which Castania I nowe [Page] speake by proofe, and knowe by experience, for I am so drowned in delight by inioying that princely Iemme, which I estéeme the rarest and richest Iewell, not onely in Alexandria, but in all the worlde, and so puffed vp in pleasure by thy diuine presence. Yea, thy faithfull and vnfained affection, the promise of thy constancie, and the hope of thy loyaltie, the report of thy chastitie, & the renowme of thy modestie, the force of thy beautie, & the fame of thy vertue. But aboue all thy prodigall boun­tie, in bestowing these heauenlye perfections on thy poore Gwydonius, béeing by person and parentage most vnworthy to possesse them, so surcharg [...]th my silly heart with excessiue ioye, that my tongue not being able in part to expresse the extreame pleasure of my minde, I am with Phili [...]tion the Comicall Poet, constrayned by silence to vnfolde that affection, which in words the filed phrase of Demosthenes were not able to decypher. But this assure thy selfe Castania, that if Iuno wold aduance me to be Monarch of the world, if Pallas would preferre me to excéede hautie Hercules in valour, if Venus wold present me with some princely péece of heuenly perfecti­on, yet would I not so gladly receiue their proffers, as I doo gratefully accept the promise of thy loue and loy­altie. No, I accompt the treasure of Croesus but trash, in respect of the guerdon of thy good will: I accompt the fortune of Caesar but folly, respecting the fruites of thy fauour: I estéeme the dignities of Priamus as dregs, in respect of thy diuine perfection. Yea Castania, I am so snared with thy beautie, and so intangled in the trap of thy bountie, as I shall neuer leaue to loue thée, nor e­uer beginne to like any other.

IT is easie Gwydonius (quoth Castania) to purchase credite, where the partie is alreadie perswaded, and to infer beléefe, where euery word is counted an Oracle. [Page 45] Therefore omitting these friuolous protestations, thus much I say touching the purpose. Cecillius Metellus was wont to say, that as it was necessary that old men shuld be graue in counsaile, so it was expedient young men should be secret in loue, and therefore when the contract was made betwéene Fuluius and his daughter, he sealed vp their lippes with his signet, meaning that to violate the secret conference of louers, was to commit a second sacriledge. I speake this Gwydonius, as one carefull of thy staye and my state: for if Orlanio my father should but once heare of our loue, or suspect our liking, it wold bréede thy mishap and my miserie: yea, no doubt hée would spéedely preuent our pretence, which woulde bée thy care and my calamitie. Dispose our affaires at thy pleasure, but discouer not our purpose, if thou hast won the castell vaunt not of the conquest, if thou hast made a good market, bragge not of thy gaines, lest by boasting of thy bootie, thou loose thy pray and be thought a prat­ler. And Gwydonius aboue all men beware of Valeri­cus, least vnder the shape of a friend, he proue in tyme thy mortall foe, least his fained amitie proue faithlesse enmitie: that in trusting too much without triall, thou finde not treason: and then though thou repent, yet had I wist cometh too late, & so thou wish thou hadst neuer loued, and I neuer liked.

TUsh Castania (quoth Gwydonius) he that is afraide to venter on the Bucke because he is tapisht in the briers, shall neuer haue hunters happe, and he that puts his doubt in loue for euery chaunce, shal neuer haue lo­uers lucke. Cannot the Cat catch Mice, without she haue a bell hanged at her eare? Cannot the Hobbie seaze on his praye but he must checke? Cannot the Spaniell retryue the Partridge, but he must quest? and cannot we deale so warely but all the worlde must wonder at [Page] it? Yes, it is a subtill birde that bréedes among y ^e aerin of Hawkes, and a shifting Shéepe that Lambes in the Foxes Denne, and he shall looke narrowlye, that spyes me halting. Let Orlanio not onely weigh our workes, but our wordes, and let Valericus both déeme our déeds, and deuine our thoughts, and yet I hope we will deale so secretlye in our affaires, as neither the one shal haue cause to suspect our familiaritie, nor the other to detect our affection. And therefore Castania least (if we bée spyed) the time and place giue occasiou of mistrust, I will leaue you as I found you, and so farewell.

WEll these two louers placed thus by fortune in the Pallaice of earthlye prosperitie, floated so secure­lye in the streames of blisse, as they thought no chips of mischaunce might chaunge their present happinesse to future heauines, as long as their priuie contract was kept so secret to themselues. But as they which cannot sée fire in the strawe are stone blinde: so he that cannot sée the flame of fancie is a foole. It is harde to couer smoake, but more harde to conceale loue, which these two Louers in tract of time tryed true. Who as close­ly as they kept their cloake, yet it was most easie to es­pie the lining: for fancie secretly restrayned, is like the sparke couered with ashes, which at length bursteth in­to a great flame. For there passed betwéene Gwydoni­us such amorous glaunces, such louing lookes, such cour­teous congies, such countenaunces, and such friendlye familiaritie, such often méetings, such open gréetings, such sighes, such sobbes, and such straunge passions, as not onely Valericus but all the Courte (though they poore soules, thought to daunce in a Nette and not bée séene) perceiued how entirelye they loued, and lyked [Page 46] [...]ach other. Which as it did not displease many which loued Gwydonius as their friend, so it greatly despited Valericus which was his foe, to see one of small counte­naunce preferred before one of his callyng, that Gwy­donius shoulde winne the Bulwarke which he so long had battered: that hée pitching the Field, another shuld obtaine the Conquest: that hée laying the siege, ano­ther shoulde vaunt of the victorye: that while he beat the Bush, another shoulde catche the Birdes: and that the méede of his merite, should be giuen to one of small deserte. Béeing combred with these cholaricke cogita­tions, and perplexed with these despightfull passions, inflamed with wrathfull furie, he fell into these termes.

O Goddes (quoth hée) what courtesie is there to bée founde in such Kytes of Croesus kinde, or what constancie is there to bée hoped for, in suche dayntye disdayning Dames? whose wauering wills and stay­lesse wittes both waxe and wane with the Moone, whose Lunaticke mindes chaunge with euerye sud­dayne motion; yea, whose lyghtnesse and leawdnesse is suche, as they delyght with the Rauen to feede on the moste loathsome fleshe, with the shée Woolfe to choose the fowlest Make, with Aesops Cocke to pre­ferre the barley Corne before a most precious pearle, & with Glaucus to make a chaunge of his golden armour for brazen harnesse.

Didde not Euphinia forsake most famous Princes, and imbrace a most infamous Bonde­slaue? Didde not Sirichia the Princesse of Den­marke reiecte moste Princelye Potentates, and at laste accepte a poore Peasaunt? Yea, didde not [Page] Venus her selfe with the béetle, disdain all day to light on the most fragrant flowers, and at night vouchsafeth to lodge in a filthie cowsheard: I meane, did shée not refuse the renowmed Gods, and choose a most deformed Smith.

Why, but Valericus, is it fancie that forceth them to this folly? Doth loue lead them? doo the Destenies driue them? doth beautie allure them? Is it their countenance that constraineth them? no, they are clownes: is it their person or parentage that perswadeth them: no, they are pesants. But like craftie Calipsos they thinke by these vnequall matches to rule the roste after their owne dy­et, to be soueraigne Mistres of their owne mindes, with Venus to let Vulcan possesse the trée, and Mars enioye the fruite, to haue their husbands féede the shéepe, & some other reape the fléece: vnder the shaddowe of his heade, doo defende themselues from such heate, as would other­wise greatly scorch their credite, to make him followe the bent of their bowe, although he set the Cuckoldes end vpward. It is a simple cloake that cannot couer one from a shower of raine, and a silly husband that is not able to father that another dooth beget. But to see howe these gallaunt girles, if they like not the partie, what shewe of shamefastnesse they will make, how they will vale their face with the visour of virginitie, howe they will cloake themselues with the colour of continencie, how charie they will be of their chastitie: whereas if they fancie, who so loose of their lips, and frée of theyr flesh as they. But Valericus, why doost thou thus recke­lessely raile and rage against womankinde. It is not Castania that thus crosseth thée with care, but Gwydo­nius that bréedeth thy griefe. It is not shée that infer­reth thy sore, but hée that procureth thy sicknesse.

Shée is not the meanes of thy maladye, but hée the hinderer of thy medicine. Shée is not the [Page 47] worker of thy woe, but he is the sower of thy sorrowe. And shall hée bée puffed vp with prosperitie, and I pres­sed downe with miserie? shall he swimme in wealth, and I sinke in want? shall he bath in blisse, and I waile in woe? shall he bée pampered vp with pleasure, and I pinde awaie with penurie? No, I will either spoile him, or spill my selfe, in despight of the fates and fortune.

WHile thus Valericus sought opportunitie to reuenge his wrath vppon guiltlesse Gwydonius, Fortune minding to bewraie her immutabilitie, brought it so to passe, that whereas Orlanio was accustomed to paie a yéerely tribute to the duke of Metelyne, which surmoun­ted to the sum of thirtie thousand Duckets, either wil­fully or vnwittingly he with-held this debt, which Cle­rophontes claimed as his due, insomuch that béeing de­manded by Embassage for y ^e paiment of this tribute, hée flatly answered, that he would not from hence foorth dis­burse one denier, & he was sorrie that in paying it héere­tofore he proued himselfe such a foole. Wherevpon Cle­rophontes being fraught with raging fury, was so incen­sed against Orlanio, that taking counsaile of his nobily­tie, he determined with as much spéede as might bée, to wage battaile against him, and to obtaine that by con­straint, which he denyed him of curtesie. As thus he was musing with himselfe whom he shuld appoint Captaine generall of his armie, because he meant not in proper person to abide the hazarde of the battaile, the rem [...]m­braunce of his sonne Gwydonius, came into his minde, which not onely amazed him, but so molested him, as hée was driuen into most distressed dolour, now he called to minde his mercilesse crueltie in correcting his faults, and his moodlesse rigour in rebuking his folly: [...]owe he be­wailed his long absence, and wished his spéedie presence: yea, he was so diuersly perplexed, as he began thus dolo­rously [Page] to discourse with himselfe.

ALasse (quoth he) now I sée the saying of Cicero to be true, that who so wilfullye peruerteth the lawes of nature, séemeth to proclaime himselfe an enimie to the Gods: for that Nature neuer framed anye thing a­misse, wherein I haue most grieuously offended: For in beastly rage I haue surpassed the brute beasts, and in crueltie the sencelesse creatures: I haue béene more deuoyde of pittie then the fowles of the aire, and more vnnaturall then the Fishes of the Sea. The Birde called Apis Indica, séeing the venimous Uiper readie to deuour her young ones in the neast, presenteth her selfe to death, to preserue them from destruction. The Eagle is so carefull ouer her young, that if it happe by her de­fault one of them doe perish, shée willinglye woundeth her selfe in many places with her owne beake. The Ly­on so louingly fostereth vp her Whelpes, that shée ne­uer tasteth of the praie vntyll they bée fullye satisfied. The Foxe is so carefull ouer her cubbes, that shée wil­lingly falleth into the Hunters handes to defende hir young from harme. But I vilde wretch, (as though I had drunke of the Ryuer Lincestis in Bohemia, which presently tourneth whatsoeuer it toucheth into stones. In stéede of friendly courtesie, haue abused mine owne sonne with frowning crueltie, in liew of mercie I haue brought him to miserie, the fatherlye affection I haue shewed him, hath béene raging furie: yea, my rygorous Nature, naye rather my vnnaturall rage hath béene such towardes him, as hée lyueth a bannished exile in a straunge Countrey, perhappes pinched wyth penurye, oppressed with pouertie, wandering in the wilde De­sartes, in daunger of deuouring, in peryll of spoyling, afflicted not onelye with the maladie of the bodie, but the miserie of the minde: so that no doubte hée wisheth [Page 48] that I had neuer béene Father to such a sonne, or he ne­uer sonne to such a Father.

Alasse what ioye canne I nowe enioy, when I want my onely ioye? What comfort canne I haue to sée my childe in calamitie? What pleasure canne I take while hée toyleth in penurie, who nowe in mine age shoulde bée the staffe whereon to staie, that by his valyaunt cou­rage and warlike prowesse (wherewith from his in­fancie hée hath béene indewed) might defend mee from mine enimies, and reuenge mée of my foes. But alasse I lament too late, the calme commeth out of time, when the Shippe alreadie hath suffered shipwracke, and these pittifull plaintes little preuaile, where the patient is alreadie pushed into perill. No, no, my rage hath béene too greate, to heare of his hastie retourne, my peruerse furie hath béene such, as hée dare not abide my pre­sence: and surely my sorrowe is too greate euer to bée salued.

And with that Clerophontes start vp, minding to reuenge these his cholarike cogitations by bloudie bat­taile, vppon the confines of Alexandria, and therefore in greate hast mustered all his men, made great prouisi­ons for the warre, and caused his Nauie to bée rigged, for that hée meant to conueie his armie by sea into Alex­andria.

While thus there was no worde through the whole Dukedome of Meteline but warre, warre, and no newes but of the cruell conflicte that shoulde insue betwéene the two Dukes. Certaine Merchauntes of Alexandria, which then roade in the Hauen, durst not goe a shoare to sell their commodities, but as fast as Winde and weather would serue them, highed them out of the har­bour, and coasted spéedely into their owne countrie: wher they no sooner arriued, but they made reporte there­of to Orlanio, who driuen into a dumpe wyth this [Page] noysome newes, whether he doubted of the puissant pow­er of Clerophontes, who was such a worthie warriour, and in battaile so bolde, that no man durst abide him, or whether he feared his owne force was not able to resist the furie of his raging enimie. He presently summoned all his Lordes to a Parliament, where after some confe­rence, it was concluded, that Thersandro should bée sent Embassadour to Metelyne to parle of peace with Clero­phontes, which determination was no whit deferred, but with as much spéede as might be, the barke wherein he should passe was prouided, the charge of the Embassage was giuen him, & he accompanied with a traine of braue Gentlemen, departed.

But if this newes was dolefull to Orlanio, no doubt it was death it selfe to Gwidonius, who hearing that his Father would bend his force against the place, wherein he was. Sawe all possibilitie taken awaie from obtay­ning his purpose. For he feared death if he were know­en to Orlanio, and he doubted despightfull hate at the least if he bewraide himselfe to Castania. Which double dolour so distressed him, as he felte himselfe diuersly per­plexed with dumpish passions, his mirth was tourned to mourning, his pleasaunt conceits, to painefull cogitati­ons: his wanton toyes, to wailing thoughtes, now he a­bondoned all good companie, and delighted onely in soly­tarie life, the wilesome woodes were his wished walkes, and the secret shades the couert he chiefly coueted. In fine, he séemed rather a Tymon of Athens, then a Gentle­man of Alexandria, so that all the Court meruailed at this so sodaine a chaunge: but especially Castania, who cōiecturing his doleful hart by his drousy looks, was asto­nished at this his strange state, casting in her mind whe­ther she had giuen him any cause of this care, or whether by her occasion he was crossed with this calamitie. But alas poore soule, howsoeuer she aimed she mist y ^e marke, [Page 49] for Gwydonius felte his disease so secrete, as hée knewe none could but himselfe deuine the cause of his maladie, which no doubt was such, that it woulde haue inferred present death, if he had not hoped for some happie newes by Thersandro.

Who no sooner luckely ariued at Metelyne, but Clero­phontes was certified, that the Dukes son of Alexandria was come to impart with his grace some waightie mat­ters of importaunce. Nowe at this instaunt when the message was brought him, his Daughter Lewcippa was by, who (as the Nature of women is, desirous to sée and bee séene) thought she woulde both heare the parle, and viewe the person of this young Embassadour, and therefore found fish on her fingers, that she might staye still in the chamber of presence, whether presently Ther­sandro was sent for, who curteously and curiously dooing his obysaunce to the Duke, deliuered his Embassage in this manner.

WHere-as (ri [...]ht worthie sir) O [...]lanio, the Duke of A­lexandria, more vnwittingly then wil [...]ully denyed certaine tribute, which hée confesseth both hée and his predeces [...]ours haue paide to you and your aun [...]est [...]urs. Hearing that heerevppon your grace meanet [...] rather to wage battaile, then to loose anie parte of your due al­though he feareth not your force, as one able euery way to withstand it, nor passeth of your puissaunce, as a Po­tentate sufficient to resist your power. Yet, the care hée hath of his subiectes safetie, and the loue hee hath to pre­serue the life of his commons, the regard he hath to paie and performe that which conscience and custome requi­reth, and lastly, meaning with Tully, Iniquissimam pa­cem iustissimo bello anteponere. Hée hath sent mée both to sue for conditions of peace, and to pay the tribute, which if your grace shall refuse, of force he must put his [Page] hope in the hazard of Fortune.

THersandro hauing thus pythelye performed his charge, Clerophontes tolde him that vpon a sodaine he woulde not dispatche so waightie a matter, but meant first both to consulte and take counsaile of his Nobles: which done, within thrée dayes hée shoulde haue an aunswere. In the meane time hée commaun­ded Lucianus the Steward of his house, verie courteous­lye to intreate both Thersandro and his traine, and to feast them with such sumptuous fare, as they might haue cause most highly to extoll his magnificence.

But leauing Clerophontes to consult with his lear­ned counsaylours, and Thersandro to companie with the lustie Courtiers, againe to Lewcippa, who while this young youth was telling of his [...]ale, neuer markte the matter, but the man, nor regarded not the parle, but re­spected the person: neuer noted the contents, but view­ed his countenance: In such sort, that shée was so scor­ched with the fire of fancie, and so scalded with the flame of affection, so bewitched with his beautie, and so inuea­gled with his bountie, as hée was the onelye man that made her checke at the praie, bate at the Lure, and wyl­lingly yéelde to the first assaulte of fancie. And on the other side, Fortune so fauoured, that Thersandro prin­ting in his heart the perfection of Lewcippas person, felte his fréedome so fettered by the viewe of her hea­uenly face, and so snared in the beames of her amorous glaunces, that hée wisht that eyther this discention had neuer growen, or that hée hadde not béene the deliue­rer of the message, for hee felt his heart alreadie so ouer­growen wyth good-will towardes this younge Prin­cesse, as no salue but her selfe was able to mittigate his sorrowe, no medicine but her courte [...]e was able to cure [Page 50] his calamitie, and hée thought to preferre his sute to his professed foe, was follie: to linger still in loue, was death and miserie: to séeke for helpe at her handes, neyther woulde the present state permitte him, nor time suffer him to prosecute his purpose: daunted with these diuerse doubtes to auoyde the melancholike motions that mo­lested his minde, hée presently went from his lodging to the Court, that by companie he might driue awaie these dumpes, where hée found in the great chamber diuerse Ladies and Gentlemen, passing awaie the time in plea­saunt parle, amongst whom was that pearelesse Para­gon, princely Lewcippa: who (after due reuerence done to the Gentlewomen in generall) was singled out by Thersandro, and courted in this wise.

MAdame (quoth hée) if anie creature hath iust occasi­o [...] to accuse either Nature or the Gods of iniustice, man onelye hath the greatest cause to make this com­plaint, for there is none eyther so depriued of reason, or deuoide of sence, which by some naturall instinct dooeth not skilfully presage of perills before they come, and wa­rily preuent ere they be past.

The Goates of Lybia knowe certainelye when the Canicular dayes beginne, wherein commonlye they fall blinde, and therefore by eating the hearbe [...]olopodium they prouidentlye preuent their disease. When the Ly­on leaueth his Lawnes, and raungeth in forraine De­sertes, hée alwayes foresheweth a drought. When the Fish called V [...]anascapos sinketh downe to the bot­tome of the Sea, hée bewrayeth greate tempestes to bée imminent. But man is so farre from this se­crete foresight, that not onelye hée cannot deuine of these ensuinge daungers, but rather wilfullye [Page] or willing, pusheth himselfe into most manifest perills, which madame, I speake, as féeling my selfe distressed with this want. For if I had bene indued with this sa­cred prescience, perfectly to presage of ensuing perilles, I had not ben crossed with such cares as I am like to incur, nor hadde cause to repent this my present arriuall. But sith lacke of such skill hath procured my losse, and that when the hurt is had it is too late to take héede, though reuealing of my mishappe cannot heale my miserie, nor repeating of my paines redresse my sorrowe: yet, I meane to participate my passions to your good grace, that though you cannot or will not mittigate my mala­die, yet you maye pittie my estate, which will some­what ease my heauinesse. I came to your Fathers Court madame, a frée man of Alexandria, and am lyke to retourne a captiue of Metelyne, I arriued deuoyde of care, and am lyke to departe, drenched with calamitie: I landed frée from affection, but feare to passe hence fraught with fancie: my charge was onely to parle of peace, but my chaunce is to discourse of passions. Yea, your beautie hath so fettered my fréedome, and so snared my heart in the linkes of your loue, that it shall ne­uer bée raced out by anye sinister meanes of For­tune, although I sée it is almost impossible to obtayne it.

For I doubte our parents are lyke to proclaym [...] themselues professed foes, and the vrgent necessitie of my affayres, forceth mée to departe so spéedelye, as want of time wyll not suffice to make tryall of my loue, whereby I might claime a sufficient guerdon for my good wyll: yet howsoeuer the matter shall happe, whether my hope be voide, or my happe be vaine, I meane madame to remaine yours for euer.

[Page 51] Lewcippa tooke such delight in hearing Thersandro discourse so louingly, as she could scarely kéepe her coun­tenaunce from bewraying the pleasure she conceiued in this parle, séeing that her loue was requited with ly­king, and her fancie incountered with the like affecti­on. Yet least Thersandro should thinke her too curteous if she shuld come at the first call, and very light of loue, to like at the first looke, she framed him this aunswere.

SIr (quoth she) if of your sute for conditions of peace there insue no better successe than the reuea­ling of your passions shall reape pittie at my handes, or if the intreatie for truce be as lightly respected by my Father, as either your person or petition is regarded by me, you are like to carrie home cold newes to your coū ­trey, and to vaunt that you bad faire, but bought little: that your Haruest was long, but your corne not worth the cropping: that your venter was much, but your gaines such, as if your winnings proue no better, you are lyke to liue by the losse. For sir, doo you suppose mée so sottish, as to thinke euery one that flatters dooth fan­cie, or so addicted to selfe loue, as by a few filed phrases to be brought into a fooles Paradice: knowing that it is the fashion of men by their fained subtiltie to deceiue our faithfull simplicitie. No, for if you meane to coun­terfaite, take this for a rule, it is ill halting before a cre­ple. But sir, this your sodaine liking bewrayes y ^• light­nesse of your loue, this your fonde affection, imports the ficklenesse of your fancie: for soone hot, soone cold? easely inflamed, as quickly quenched: like to the Apples of A­rabia, which begin to rot, ere they be halfe ripe. And if I meant to loue, had I none to like but my Fathers foe? should I desire him whom my Father dooth detest? And if I should so farre forget mine owne staye, or my Fa­thers [Page] state, as to consent, it were impossible either to appease his wrath, or to get y ^• graunt of his good will, so y ^t to desire y ^• which I can neuer inioy, wer to driue my self wholy into despair, which wold smally profit you, and greatlye displeasure me, and therefore cease to sue for that, which may [...] well [...]e wisht, but neuer obtai­ued.

Thersandro although he heard Lewcippa decide the case sufficiently, yet he was so wilfull, that he woulde not take her doome for a verdite, but retourned her this replye.

MAdame (quoth he) where in liew of hate there in­sueth loue, it is alwayes the signe of the greater affection: and that it is a thing either confirmed by the Fates, or appointed by the Gods. Tereus the Prince of Thra [...]e, being sent by his Father to defie Pand [...]on the king of Athens, was enamoured of his daughter Prog­ne, whereby betwéene the Parents in stéede of fatall en­mitie, there insued friendly amitie. When as the blou­die warres betwéene Atis the King of Libia, and Lyca­bas the Prince of Assur was most hot, young Adme­tus being sent Ambassadour into Libia, was so stroken in loue with Alcest, onely Daughter to his fathers foe, and she repaying his lyking with such loyaltie, as death it selfe could neuer dissolue their amitie. If madame, these premisses may perswade you to take pittie of my passions, or these examples induce you, not to let the ha­tred of our parents be a hindrance of our loue, whether your father reiect me as a foe, or accept me as a friende, I doubt not but the destinies will driue the bargayne through, in despite of them and fortune.

Sir (quoth she) I confesse Progne poore wench loued Tereus, but how wretchedly did he reward her loyaltie? and Scylla was enamored of Mino [...] her fathers foe, but [Page 52] how tyrannously did he repay her loue with treacherie, Tarpeia betrayed the Tower of Rome to one of the Sa­bynes whom she most entirely loued, but the méede of her merite was extreame miserie. Shall I then Ther­fandro sée the traine and yet fall into the trappe, shall I spie the nettes, and yet strike at the stale? shall I sée the mishap, and yet wilfully incurre the mischaunce, no I meane not for an inch of ioye, to reape an ell of an­noy, for a moment of mirth a month of miserie, for a dram of pleasure, a whole pound of paine, and by pro­curing mine owne delight to purchase my fathers death and destruction. But let this suffice Thersandro to signi­fie how I pittie thy passions, and thinke wel of thy per­son, that if my Fathers will might be framed to my wish, if he would condiscend as I would consent, thou onely art the man who in the way of mariage shoulde dispose of me at thy plesure. But sith the frowning state of Fortune denies our loue to haue such happie successe, hope well, and rest vpon this poynt, that I will alwaies like thee as a friend, though not loue thée as my pheere.

AS Thersandro was ready to replye, and to seale vp the bargaine of their loue vppon her swéete lippes, Clerophontes came in, who marred all their market, & tourned their swéete to sower, for he gaue Thersan­dro his aunswere before Lewcippa, which was this.

That he neither ment to accept of the conditions of peace, nor to receiue the tribute, but to claime his due by the doubtfull euent of battaile. That he shortly preten­ded in person to visite Orlanio, and within the walls of Alexandria to demaund his debt, and that he would be­stow his Fathers Dukedome vpon a Lord of his called [...] in dowrie with his Daughter Lewcippa.

[Page] Thersandro was nothing amazed with the first part of the message, but when he hearde howe Clerophontes meant presumptuously both to depraue him of his ly­ [...]ing, and depriue him of his Loue, he was so puffed vp with wrath and chollar, as hap what hap would, he fell into these tearmes.

I Remember (quoth he) that Caligula the Emperour prouiding a mightie armie to subdue great Bri­taine, when he was come to the Sea, readie to post ouer his Souldiours in his Nauie, he lefte off his endlesse enterprise, and set them to gather Cockles. Siphax bold­ly boasting that he would bestowe the kingdome of Nu­midia vpon his second Sonne, was by Massinissa ouer­throwen, and solde as captiue to the Romanes. I dare not sir inferre comparisons, because they be odious, nor apply the examples, sith time and place forbids me: but this I say, that to fish before the net, is alwaies counted fol­ly, and to vaunt before the victorie, is but vanitie. Yea, and if I had as good right to your Daughter Lewcip­pa, as I haue to the supposed Dowrie which you as­signe her, I woulde in despight of Lucianus and the di­uell himselfe, dispose her at my pleasure.

Clerophontes hearing the cholaricke conclusion of Thersandro could scarcely bridle his frantick furie from raging without reason against this young youth, yet somewhat mittigating his moode, he breathed out these cruell threatenings.

IF the lawe of Armes (quoth he) did not both safely protect thee, & surely forbid me to hurt thée in y ^• thou art a messenger, I would with such seueritie chastice these thy presumptuous spéeches, as thou shuldest learn héereafter to answere with more reuerence: yet I wysh thée not to stande too stiffe vpon this poynt, least if thou [Page 53] be so recklesse as to breake the bondes of reason, I be so forgetfull as to passe the lymits of the law. Thou hast receiued a determinate aunswere for the Embassage, & there I charge thée this present day to depart out of my Dominions.

Thersandro fearing the tyrannie of this cruell Cle­rophontes, presently passed out of the Chamber of Pre­sence, taking his leaue of Ladie Lewcippa, onelye with louing lookes, which she requited with such glaunces of good will, as they were sufficient signes what insup­portable sorrowe she receiued by his so sodayne depar­ture: yet knowing that her fancie was incountred with mutual affection, she droue away the mystie clowdes of despaire, hoping that the Gods séeing their faithful ami­tie, would take pitie of their passions, & in time redresse their miserie.

But Thersandro hauing with spéede dispatchte hys affaires (all his train being set aboord, and they coasting the straights with a luckie gale) was so combred with care, and so ouer-growen with griefe, that he passed no hower, minute, nor moment, without wofull waylyng, sorrowfull sobs, and farre fetcht sighes, so that the Gen­tlemen his companions, supposing that he was thus painfully perplexed for feare of Clerophontes pu [...]ssance, began both to comfort and incourage him not to doubte or dread the force of the enimie, sith his father was able to repulse him, without any daunger to himselfe, or any great damage to his subiects. But these their perswasi­ons could no whit preuaile to asswage his passions, this their incouragement coulde not cure his care.

But as there is no greater bane to the bodye, than trouble of the minde: so Thersandro so long continued in these pensiue passions, and carefull cogitations, con­cealing his griefe so couertly, which so much the more furiously flamed within him, that he was constrayned [Page] to kéepe his Cabbin till his arriuall at Alexandria.

Where being set on shore, and presently conueyed to the Courte, he remained for the space of thrée dayes, so strangely perplexed, as he was not able to make report of his message: which so griped Orlanio with such in­speakable griefe, as he wished rather to haue died vali­antly w ^t the force of hys enimye, than to put the health of his sonne in hazard by passing so perillous a iournie. But Thersandro séeing that sorrow would not salue his sore, but rather increase his sicknesse: that mourning would not appease his maladie, but rather augment his miserie: began to take heart at grasse, and within few dayes began to recouer his former health. And then hée declared to his Father, what he had in charge from Cle­rophontes, how he meant spéedely to wage war against him, & by force of armes to driue him out of his Duke­dome, which he had alreadie promised to one Lucianus in dowrie with his Daughter. Orlanio hearing this proud presumption of this bragging Duke, thought the greatest barkers were not alwaies the sorest biters, and that it was farre more easie with words to obtayne the victorie, than with déeds to attayne the Conquest. Yet, least he might be taken at vnwares, he made a generall muster throughout all his Dominions, prouiding in euery place necessarye munition for the defence of hys Countrey. And assembling his Nobilitie to giue theyr verdite, who were fittest to bée Captaines in this skirmish: after some consultation had in this cause, they concluded, that since Clerophontes meant to ioyne battayle in his owne person, that lykewise hée shoulde bee Generall of the field, and Gwydonius who surpassed all the rest in martial exploites, should be Lieuetenant, and conduct the armie, which he no sooner hearde but hée was tormented with inspeakable griefe, he beganne to [Page 54] pull downe his Peacockes feathers, to hang his wings, and crye creake: euery man hoping to winne fame was merrie, but he alone mourning: euery man laughed, & he alone lowred: insomuch, that he was generallye sus­pected to be a fearfull cowarde, and that dread of daun­ger draue him into these dolefull dumpes. But as they rashly coniectured the cause of his sorrowe, so they mist the nature of his sicknesse: for Gwydonius séeing that of this cruel conflict his calamitie should ensue, and that this bloudie broyle would bréed his bane, he fell into such solitarie surmises, and such musing meditations, that Valericus his open friende and yet his secrette foe, sought by sundry meanes to search out the cause of his care, but not being able to wring out any thing, eyther by flattering promises or fained protestations, he ceased frō his importunate sute. But froward fortune brought it so to passe, that Valericus comming by the chamber of Gwydonius, heard him thus desperatly discoursing with himselfe.

ALas (quoth he) I sée the Sunne being at the highest declineth, the Sea being at full tide ebbeth: calme continueth not long without a storme, neither is happi­nesse had long without heauinesse, blisse without bale, weale without woe, mirth without mourning. For who a late so floated in the flouds of felicitie as I, which now by the sinister meanes of frowning fortune am sowsed in the seas of sorrow, exalted alate to the highest degrée of happines, am nowe driuen to the greatest extremiti [...] of euill: alate puffed vp with prosperitie, & now pushed downe with aduersitie: yea, alate placed in Paradise, and now plunged in perplexitie.

Oh Gwydonius, if thy fathers friendlye preceptes [Page] might haue perswaded thée, if his aduice had bene thy aduertisement, and thou hadst carefully kept his coun­saile, then by his fore-warning thou hadst bene fore-ar­med against all mishap and miserie. The force of fickle fancie had not then giuen thee the foyle, loue had not so lyghtly procured thy losse, nor the painted shew of beau­tie had not so soone procured thy bane. My bane? Why fond foole, beautie hath bred my blisse, fancie hath not giuen me the foyle, but hath yéelded me the fort: Loue hath not wrought my losse, but requited me with treble gaine.

Hath not Castania requited my loue with loyaltie, and repayed my good will with mutuall affection? Is shee not my Saint and I her seruaunt? Are wée not contracted together by loue, and shall continue together by lawe? May I not dispose of her in the waye of mar­riage at my pleasure? Yes, but what then, the more is my grief, and the greater is my care. For if her presence procureth my delight, will not her absence bréede my de­spight? If her consent preserued my life, will not her contempt inferre my death? Yes. For alas sin [...]e the de­stinies meane to dissolue that fancie hath decréed, since the frowning fates séeke to vnloose that which loue hath linked, since froward fortune means to break the bonds wherin beautie hath boūd vs, since these bloudie broiles will cause Castania (where before shée accepted mée for a friend) nowe to reiecte mée for a foe: What better lucke canne I looke for, then a loathsome lyfe, or what better happe can I hope for, than horrour and hea­uinesse? Yea, which waye so euer I tourne mée I sée nothing but woe and wretchednesse. For if Or­lanio perceyued our liking, how would he storme at our loue? If he knew my chaunce, how woulde he fret at his Daughters choyce? Woulde hée euer consent, [Page 55] that Castania should match with so meane a mate, that her princely personage should be disgraced with my base parentage, that her calling shuld be crazed with my slen­der countenaunce: no, he would no doubt first banish me out of all his dominions. Tush Gwydonius, would God this were the worst, and then thou mightest hope in time by some meanes to redresse this doubt. But if Or­lanio shoulde knowe thou wert heire apparaunt to the Dukedome of Metelyne, and onely sonne to Clerophon­tes, his fatall foe, what torment were there so terrible, which thou shouldest not trie? What paine so pinching, which thou shouldst not passe? What hap so hard which thou shouldest not hazard? Yea, what death so direfull, which at his cruell hands thou shouldest not suffer? And what if Castania were priuy to thy state, dost thou think her so constaunt as to consent to her Fathers foe? doest thou thinke she would wish the sonnes weale, when the Father wisheth her mishap? No, assure thy selfe if thy state be once knowen, that Castania wil most deadly de­test thée, which will be more grieuous to thée then death it selfe, be it neuer so terrible. Sith then Gwydonius, thou must shortly either go in armes against thine owne father, or else loose both thy loue and thy life, let not de­laie bréede daunger, but strike on the stith while y ^• yron is hot, Castania hath promised to forsake both Father, friendes, and her owne countrie, to passe wher and when it pleaseth thée, she doubteth no daungers, shée forceth of no misfortune, she careth for no calamitie, she passeth for no perills, so she inioy thy desired companie, and there­fore as spéedely as may be, conueie her closely into y ^• con­fines of Metelyne, before eyther she know thy staie or thy state. And shall I so practise her with pollicies? shall I so sift her with subtiltie? shall I put so little trust in her troth? and so small confidence in her constancie? as to cō ­ceale from her anye secret? No, come woe, come wretch­ednesse, [Page] come death, come daunger, hap what hap will, I will presently impart vnto her my present state, and my pretended purpose.

Valericus hearing this doubtfull discourse of Gwy­donius, was driuen into an extasie for ioy, to sée that hée had found such fit meanes whereby he might not onely purchase the Dukes fauour, aspire vnto honour and dig­nitie, but also obtaine the loue of Castania, for he meant spéedely to preuent the pretence of Gwydonius by vn­folding to the Duke the summe of his secrete purpose, assuring himselfe, that after Orlanio knew his parents and parentage, that hée was sonne and heire to Clero­phontes, no price though neuer so precious, no raunsome though neuer so rich, might redéeme him from the most despightfull death that could be deuised. And of these premisses he inferde this conclusion, that the cause bée ta­ken awaie the effect faileth, that Gwydonius béeing re­iected, hée should bée receiued: that hée being despighted with hate, he shoulde be requited with loue, and vppon this hope he went presentlye to bewraie this matter to Orlanio, whom he found with his sonne Thersandro, and diuerse other noble men consulting what course they had best take against Clerophontes, whome Valericus salu­ted in this wise.

PLato (right worthie Prince) that graue and wise phi­losopher, whose sentences in all ages haue bene hol­den as most diuine Oracles, portrayeth out in the books of his Common wealth, the picture of a perfect Citizen, whose liniaments béeing first leuelled, hée tricketh vp with these coulours, that he loue his Prince loyallye, kéepe the lawes carfully, and defend his Countrie valy­antly, in which thrée pointes (saith he) consisteth the chie­fest duetie of a trustie subiecte: this saying of Plato throughly considered, and calling to minde the sun­drie [Page 56] good tournes which without desert your grace hath bestowed vppon me, I thought if I shoulde not repaye your fauour with faithfulnesse, and your trust you re­pose in me with inuiolable troath, I might bée counted a vicious vassall, deuoide of all vertue, a trecherous Ci­tizen, rather then a trustie subiect, a carelesse slaue, then a carefull Gentleman: yea, a gracelesse monster, misled with ingratitude. I am come (right worthie Sir) not to betraie my foe, but to bewraie my friende, not to disco­uer the fault of my enimie, but to disclose his offence, which liueth with me in perfect amitie, in whose com­panie hetherto hath ben all my ioy, pleasure and delight: but since his pretence is greatlye preiudiciall to your graces person, I thought to preferre your profite before mine owne pleasure, and the commoditie of my countrie before mine owne priuate contentation. So it is that Gwydonius, whome your grace hath honoured, and all the Court estéemed, is sonne and heire to Clerophon­tes, the Duke of Metelyne, who by the péeuish pollicie of his Father, vnder the pretence of seruice, is purposed to procure your fatall death, and the finall destruction of your Dukedome. And the better to performe this di­uellish practise, hée hath contracted himselfe to my La­die Castania, who blinded with his beautie, and inueag­led with his wit, hath consented, not onely to kéepe his counsaile to your confusion, but also closely to conuey her selfe with him into his Countrie. Which pretence if your grace doth not spéedely preuent, you shall finde that delaie bréedes daunger, & that procrastination in perils is but the mother of mishap.

And haue I (quoth Orlanio) brought vp the Birde that will picke out mine owne eyes? Haue I fostered vp the Serpent in my bosome that will bréede my bane? Haue I giuen her lyfe that séekes to yéelde me death? Haue I cherisht her béeing younge, and wyll shée [Page] consume me being older: was there none to choose but Gwydonius, nor none to loue but the son of her fathers foe? Will she preferre her lust before my life, her priuate pleasure, before the safetie of my person? Well, as she for­gets the dutie of a child, so I will forget the natural af­fection of a Father, and therefore Valericus, goe spéedely with these noble men to Gwydonius chamber, and ap­prehend him, that I may requite his hatefull trecherie with most hellish torments. And Thersandro, sée you that Castania be closely kept vntill we haue caught the tray­tour, least she vnderstanding that their deuise is disclo­sed, she saue her selfe by flight.

Valericus hauing this commission giuen him from the Duke, made no delay, but passed to Gwydonius lod­ging with as much spéed as might be: but Fortune who after euery chip of mischaunce, sendeth some lot of good lucke, and after euerie storme of aduersitie, sendeth a qui­et calme of prosperitie, so carefully prouided to frée Gwy­donius from mishap, that he was newlye gone towardes Castania, to impart vnto her this his pretence, but before he came to her chamber, he was incountred by Thersan­dro, who stearnly taking Gwydonius by the bosome, pul­ling out his Rapier, commaunded him as a traitour to stand, or else without anye farther doome he shoulde féele the dint of death.

Gwydonius amazed with this sodaine motion, stoode as one in a traunce, neither being able to defend himselfe with word or weapon, but yéelded himself into y ^• hands of Thersandro, who shakt him vp with these bitter spée­ches.

THou traiterous wretch (quoth he) as it is impossible for the flame so closely to bée couered, but it wyll bée spied, so it is impossible, but that treason, though neuer so secret, should in tract of time bée disclosed, which now [Page 57] by experience is verified in thée, for although thou hast hetherto falsely fained thy selfe to be a straunger of a fo­raine nation, thou art now knowen to be sonne and heire to Clerophontes that cruell tyraunt my Fathers foe, by whose péeuish pollicy thou hadst not only brought the common wealth to confusion, but didst pretend to be pre­iudiciall to my fathers person, if thy deadly practise & di­uellish purpose had not by Valericus his meanes ben pre­uented. Hast thou ben so trained vp in trecherie, or is thy minde so spotted with villany, as to repaie my Fathers good wil with such barbarous ingratitude, and to deuise his destruction which simply foresought thy preferment. Yea, to counsel my sister Castania, not onely to consent to thy desire, but to my fathers death? Is this the manner of Metelyne? or the custome of thy countrie, to be such co­soning counterfaits? Well, since I haue happely attach­ed thée as a traitour, & as a villanous rebell, both trans­gressing humane and diuine lawes, thou shalt abide the paine & punishment due to such diuellish offenders. Now let thy cruell sire Clerophontes frée thée from those tor­ments that thou art like to suffer for thy trecherie, & let the Lords of Metelyne deliuer thée from his hands, who meanes in most miserable wise to martir thée. Yea, let thy Concubine Castania, who is like for her gracelesse disobedience to sippe of the same sorrowe, sée if her teares will now preuaile to mooue Orlanio to pittie. No, if Iu­piter himselfe sent Mercurie to mittigate his moode, nei­ther the authoritie of the one, nor the eloquence of the other might preuaile to pacif [...]e his furie.

GWydonius séeing that not onely his purpose was pre­uented, and his secretes disclosed, but that also Vale­ricus most villanously had accused him and Castania of that which they neuer so much as once imagined, was so perplexed, and driuen into such dumpes, as he séemed by [Page] [...]lence [...]o a [...]erre that which Thersandro had alleadged, yet at last he began thus to replie.

THersandro (quoth he) as I meane not to affirme that which is false, so I will not denie that which is true, but come dolor, come death, come miserie, come martyr­dome, come torture, come torments, I wil neither accuse my selfe iniustly, nor excuse my selfe by periurie. I con­fesse Thersandro that I am sonne and heire to the Duke of Meteline, & contracted to thy sister Castania, that Cle­rophontes is my father by the lawe of nature, & Castania my wife by the league of loue, but that I either preten­ded or purposed to be preiudiciall to Orlanios person, or y ^• Castania was counsailed or euer consented to her Fa­thers confusion, I not onely denie, but I will proue by combat, that Valericus most villanously doth accuse vs of that whereof we are altogether sacklesse.

WHy Gwydonius, (quoth he) wilt thou séeke to proue thy self loial, when the hearers déeme thée a lyar, or to make a tryall of thy troth, when thy words can haue no trust? Doest thou thinke my fathers furie will suffer thée to fable? Doest thou thinke his wrathfull rage will abide thy reasons, or that he wil be so patient as to heare thée pleade thine owne cause? No, if thou wert as cléere from these crimes alleadged against thée by Valericus as I am, yet in that thou art sonne to Clerophontes, the coine of Croesus, and kingdomes of Caesar, were not su­fficient raunsome to redéeme thée from death. But Gwy­donius, since thy health hangeth in my handes, and thy lyfe or death is in my power, I will neither bée so bloudie minded as to bréede thy bane, nor so cruell, as to be the cause of thy confusion. The guerdon Gwydonius I craue for this my good will, and the recompence I claime for this curtesie, is: that when thou commest to [Page 58] Metelyne, thou certifie thy sister and my loue and Ladie Lewcippa, that for her sake I haue procured thy safetie, that her perfection hath preserued thée from perill, the loue I beare her hath saued thy lyfe, the duetifull deuo­tion I owe vnto her, hath redéemed thée from death and daunger. And in token of this my vnfained affection, I will lift my hand against none that commeth from Me­telyne, but against Lucianus onely.

Before Thersandro was able fullye to vnfolde his minde, or that Gwydonius had time to yéeld him thanks for the sauegard of his lyfe, they hearde a greate noise, which made Gwydonius flie, and Thersandro hie him ha­stely to Castanias lodging. Nowe the companie which came, was Orlanio himselfe, who certified by Valericus that Gwydonius could not be found, laid not only watch and ward throughout all his Dukedome to attach him, but went in proper person with his Garde to apprehend Castania, and laie her in close prison, whom he found all blubbered with teares, for that she had vnderstoode the cause before of her brother▪ Thersandro: Orlanio no sooner spied her thus wéeping, but he raged against her in this wise.

HAth the force of loue, nay rather the furie of lust (vild wretch) so blinded thy vnderstanding, that to accom­plish it thou passest not to peruert both humane and di­uine lawes. Doth lasciuious affection and fleshly fancie so furiously frie within thée, as thou woldest procure thy fathers death to purchase thy diuellish desire? Could no rules of reason, no prick of conscience, no respect of hone­stie, no feare of God, nor dread of man, prohibit thée from pretending such a monstrous mischiefe, as to conclude w ^t my mortal foe to worke my fatall confusion. The young Storkes so tender the old ones in their age, as they will not suffer thē so much as to [...] to get their owne liuing. [Page] The Bird called Apis Indica, being young, séeing the old ones through age growen so weake, as they are not a­ble to wa [...]e their wings, carri [...] them continually from place to place on their backs: these sauage creatures haue but onely sence, and are obedient, thou hast both reason & sence, & art more vnnatural, these bruite beasts are most dutifull to their parents, and thou a reasonable creature art most disobedient to thy Father: yea, contrarie both to the lawes of Nature and nurture, thou séekest to bath thy handes in his guiltlesse bloude, and without care or conscience to commit most cruell murther, which is so hatefull to all things, as the sencelesse plantes and stones most deadlye detest such villanie. The Oliue trée so hatefully abhorreth a Parracide, that who so bée­ing guiltie of that crime, attempteth to plant it, dooeth not onely himselfe presently perish, but the trée forthwith wayneth and wythereth. The stone Epistrites so loath­eth this offence, counting it a fact so repugnaunt to na­ture, that it wil not vouchsafe to be worne by a murthe­rer. And shall I then let thée liue whō the sencelesse crea­tures do so deadly loath. No, this hād which cherisht thée being a child shall now chastise thée béeing such a cursed caitife. And with that he drew out his Fawlcon redie to haue slaine her. But that Thersandro knéeling down, de­sired him that he would not so in his furie forget him­selfe, as without the sentence of the law put her to death, but to commit her to ward vntill the wars betwéen him & Clerophontes were happely ended, & then vppon more straight examination, if she wer found faultie, to assigne her a punishment due for such an offence. Orlanio some­what pacified with his sonnes perswasion, commanded that presently she should be carried to prison, and the La­die Melytta with her, as an actor also in this Tragedie. And that with all spéed they should post the countrie for the attaching of the traitor Gwydonius.

[Page 59]Who after that he parted from Thersandro, séeing be­fore his eyes the terrour of torments, and the hellish horrour of death, was driuen forward so with the dread of daunger, and feare of imminent perills, that know­ing perfectly the coast of the Countrry, he passed so se­cretly & spéedely, as he was not so much as once descried by the Postes that pursued him, but scaped safely [...] out of the Dukedome of Alexandria. Béeing now without the dint of the Dukes daunger, séeing that although hée had escaped himselfe, yet he had lefte his Loue and La­die Castania in hazarde of her life, he began thus to ex­claime against his owne folly.

AH Gwydonius (quoth he) what folly hast thou com­mitted by this thy fearefull flight, what carefull ca­lamitie is like to insue of this thy cowardise in auoy­ding Scylla thou art falne into Cha [...]ibdis, in preuenting one danger thou art like to be plagued with a thousand discommodities. Had it not bene better for thée to haue died in Alexandria with honor than to lyue heere with shame and reproach, to haue suffered mishap with Ca­stania then to linger héere in miserie? Doost thou thinke that she will euer count of such a prating Paras [...]te, as will loue her in prosperie and leaue her in aduersitie, as preferreth his owne safetie before her securitie, his lyfe before her loue, and draweth himselfe out of daunger to leaue her in distresse? No, she will contempne thée as a coward, more fit to be a mate to some country [...]nt, than a [...]atch for such a courtly Princesse, she will thinke thy greatest faith was but fained ficklenesse, thy forged loue was but filthie lust, thy promises was but periuries, and that thy greatest amitie was but most dissembled enmitie: so that of a professed friend she wil become thy professed foe, her desire will tourne to despite, and her loue to most hellish hate.

[Page] Why alas, would my paine haue pleased her, would my martirdome haue contented her minde, had my peril procured her profite, or my care her commoditie. Naye, rather would not my daunger haue bene her death, my mishap her miserie, my torture her torments, and my fatall destinie hir finall destruction. By sauing my life in time we maye enioye our loue, but by death no hope had bene lefte for obtaining our desire: so that I assure my selfe, Castania will rather allowe of my pollicie by preuenting perilles by flight, than mislyke of my pract­ise in procuring mine owne safetie. And vpon this point I rest, hoping that the Gods séeing how vniustly Vale­ricu; hath accused vs, will in tract of time ridde vs from blame and reward him with shame.

GWydonius was not more distressed with dolour than poore Castania was combred, w ^t care to sée so strange a chaunce and so sodaine a chaunge, that she who of late was a royall Princesse, was now a ruthfull priso­ner, that her fréedome was tourned to fettars, her digni­tie to miserie, and her happie stay to a most hellish state: that after flouds of teares which fell from her Christall eyes, she burst foorth into these tearmes.

ALas (quoth she) what poore Damosell was euer dri­uen into such doubtfull distresse? what Princes was euer perplexed with such dolefull passions? what mayde was euer crossed with such mishap? nay what creature euer was clogged with the like calamitie? Haue the spightfull destinies decréed my destruction, or y ^e peruers [...] Planets conspired my bitter bane? Dooth froward for­tune meane to make me a mirrour of her mutabilitie, or is this the rewarde that Cupid bestowes vppon hys Clyents? Is euery one that dooth fancie maymed with [Page 60] the like misfortune, or is loue alwayes accōpanied with such haplesse lucke? Alas no, for their loue is lawfull, & mine leawd and lasciuious: their fancie is fixed vppon vertue, and mine vpon vanitie, they make their matche with consent of their parents, and I my market with­out my fathers counsaile: so that I am like in choosing such chaffre, to chop and chaunge and liue by the losse: yea, to buye repentance at an vnreasonable rate. Had it not bene better for thée Castania, to haue condiscended to the requests of Valericus, then consented to the sute of Gwydonius: to haue liked thine owne countrey-man, than loued a straggeling straunger: to haue satisfied thy selfe with assuraunce, than vainely to fish for hope?

Truth, but what then? can the strawe resist the vertue of the pure Iet? can the flaxe resist the force of the fire? can a louer withstand the brunt of beautie? fréeze, if he stande by the flame: peruert the lawes of nature, or es­chew that which is framed by the fates, or flye from the force of fa [...]cie? No, for who so escapeth the deadlye dartes of Cupid, shall be scorched with his fire, and shée that with the deaw of chastitie quencheth this flame, shall be o [...]er-taken with his wings: so that to seeke by flight to eschewe affection, is foolishly to enterprise that which can neuer be atchieued.

But alas, if I must néedes lende a listening eare to the allurements of loue, was there none to like but thy Fathers foe? Now fonde foole couldest thou shew him courtesie, that intendes to repaye thée with crueltie? Howe couldest thou choose the sonne to thy mate, when the father séekes thy miserie? It is not possible to mixe the bloud of a Bull and a Beare together in one vessel. The Lyons whelpes wil neuer cōpanie with the young Wolues: the Fawlchons called Pelagrae will neuer fly with the young Lauaretes, and if the egges of a Crowe and a Curlewe bée put in one neaste, they [Page] both foorthwith burst in sunder, because there is such [...] auncient enmitie betwéene the olde ones. And wilt thou then be so wilfull to loue him whome thy Father dooth loath, or so peruerse as to place thy selfe in that Paren­tage, where there is such mortall hatred betwéene y ^• Pa­rents? wilt thou so farre forget the duetie of a childe, as more to respect thy fatall enemie, than regard thy natu­rall father? But why vilde wretche doo I thus fondely fable, though Clerophontes be my fathers foe, yet Gwy­donius is my faithfull friende: though the one séeke to procure my paine, the other séekes to purchase my plea­sure: though the olde sire striues to subuert my fathers state, yet the sonne neuer sought to be preiudicall to his person: although that periured parasite Valericus hath most vniustly accused him of treacherie. Shall I then hate him who hath alwaies honoured me? shall I work his woe that wisheth my weale? shal I be his bane, who hath bred my blisse? shall I detest him, which serueth me with most déepe deuotion? No, I héere heartely powr [...] out most pitifull plaints to the Gods to preserue my Gwydonius from perill, and that Fortune may so fauor him as he may passe out of Alexandria without death or danger. What though I héere in prison pine in pain, what though I sinke in sorrowe, what though I be di­stressed with griefe, and oppressed with miserie, what though I be crossed with care, and combred with cala­mitie? Tush, let my Father fret and fume in his furie, let my brother rage and rayle, let that traitor Valericus triumph, and all the Countrey most bitterly curse me: yea, let them martir me most miserablye, let them tor­ment me most terribly, yet direful death shall not feare me, as long as I know Gwydonius is deuoyde of daun­ger. For I hope though fortune frowne, though the de­stinies denie it, though y ^• fates forsweare it, yea though the Gods themselues say no, yet in time we shall haue [Page 61] such happie successe, as the loyaltie of our loue, and the cléerenesse of our conscience by the lawe of Iustice doo deserue. And therefore Gwydonius shall be the Planet whereby to direct my dooings, he shall be the starre shal guide my compasse, he shall be the hauen to harbor in, & the Saint at whose shrine I meane to offer my deuo­tion.

Castania hauing thus discoursed with her selfe, shée determined when the warres were ended, if she coulde haue no hope to enioy the loue of Gwydonius, to confesse her faults, and to sue for mercie at the barre of her Fa­thers curtesie, not that she meant to liue without Gwy­donius, or to loue or like anye other, but to prolong her dayes in dolour, that she might most rigorously reuenge the villanie of Valericus, and by bathing in his bloude she might both satisfie her selfe and signifie to Gwydo­nius how intirely she loued and lyked him. But lea­uing her perplexed with these passions, againe to Clero­phontes.

Who frying still in his franticke furie, was not any whit perswaded to conclude peace with Orlanio, but ha­uing mustred his men, as speedely as might be, imbarkt them, and with a luckie gale arriued at the coast of A­lexandria, wher the borderers not able to abide his force, were constrained to saue themselues by f [...]ight. But hee as a man hauing exiled from his heart both pietie and pitie, bathed his hands in guiltlesse bloud fiering euery fort, battering downe euery bulwarke, sacking each Ci­tie, racing downe the walles to the grounde, and com­maunding his souldiours vpon paine of most greeuous punishment, not to haue any respect of persons, neyther to regarde the hoarie haires of the aged Citizens, nor the tender yeares of the sucking Infants, but to imbrue their blades with the bloud of all men, of what degrée soeuer.

[Page] Orlanio hearing how Clerophontes had inuaded hy [...] dominions, and with what barbarous crueltie hee hadde murthered his subiects, hauing also intelligence by his Scowtes, that his armie was passing huge, the better to resist the furious force of his enimie, hyred out of other Countreyes, a great multitude of Mercenarie Souldi­ours, so that he gathered a meruailous great hoast, wherin was an infinit number indued with great skill, and long experience.

Furnished thus sufficiently both with men and mu­nition like a wise and warie Captaine, séeing that he no waye els might resist the puissaunt power of so migh­tie a Prince, determined without further delaye to méete him and to giue him present battaile, hauing meruailous affiaunce in the approoued manhoode & ver­tue of his Souldiours.

Clerophontes likewise being of such a valiaunt and inuincible courage, as he séemed from his infancie to bée vowed to Mars and martiall affaires, manfully marched forward to méete with his enimies, which he performed so spéedely, that within few dayes, both the Armies wer within viewe, which Clerophontes séeing, he began to incourage his souldiours on this sort.

ALthough most trustie subiects (quoth he) I neither doubt of your prowesse, nor haue cause to feare your manhoode, as hauing mine Armie fraught with the most couragious Captaines, and boldest blouds of Metelyne, yet I wish you to consider how desperately we haue ad­uentured vpon the Conquest of this Dukedome, which if we atchieue, we shal not onely gaine perpetual fame and renowme, but reap such riches and treasure, as shall sufficiently counteruaile our trauaile. But to obtaine this victorie we must behaue our selues valiantly, nei­ther dreading any daunger though neuer so desperate, [Page 62] nor doubting any perill though neuer so fearefull. Be­fore our face we haue our enimies, behinde our backes the surging seas, so that fight we must, but flye we can­not: in being couragious we winne the fielde, and re­turne conquerours: in proouing cowards, we both loose our liues and the conquest: if we foyle our foes we re­turne with triumph, if we faint and flye we haue no hope of safetie, but death and desperation is imminent. Be then hardie to hazard, and valiaunt to venture a­middest the prease of your enimies, that daunted with your valour they may be forced to flye, and we both tri­umph and inioy the treasure.

CLerophontes hauing thus louinglye incouraged his souldiers, Orlanio on the other side séeing his men began to feare the force of the enimie, and were amazed with such a monstrous multitude, prickt them forward with this Parle.

THat mightie Monarch Alexāder y ^• great, who for his martiall exployts, was a mirror to all his posteritie, whose prowesse was such as he daunted Darius, & by his inuincible courage made a conquest of the whole world: hearing on a time one of his Captaines to demaunde what multitude was in their enimies campe, aunswe­red, that it was not the point of a good soldier to inquire how many the enimies were, but wher they were, mea­ning that to feare the multitude is rather the signe of cowardise, then a tokē of courage. Which saying I wish you carefully to consider, y ^• the huge army of Clerophon­tes neither amaze your minds, nor abate your valor, sith y ^• the equitie of our cause doth more thē counteruaile his companie. He inuadeth our realme without reason, & we defend but our owne right: he cruelly séeketh to depriue vs of fréedō, & we lawfully do maintain our own liberty. [Page] He tirannously striueth to make vs bondslaues, and we fight to frée our selues from captiuitie. If he preuayle let vs looke for no pittie, but that we shall be murdered without mercie, we shall sée before our face our wiues rauished, our daughters defloured, our parents put to death, our children slaine, our goods spoyled, our Citie sacked, and our selues brought to vtter ruth and ruyne. Sith then we are placed betwéene two extremities, ei­to possesse our owne with plentie, or to passe our liues in penurie: let vs valiauntly venter whatsoeuer wée gaine, let vs fight without feare: for better it is to die with honour, than to liue with shame.

BY that time Orlanio had ended his Oration, the Ar­mies met in a Plaine, within thirtie leagues of A­lexandria. Where both of them ordering (as became good Captaines) their people, there began in the breake of the day, the most cruell and terrible battaile that earst was heard of, considering the number on both partes, theyr experience and pollicie, with the valiant prowesse and courage of the Captaines. Thus continued they in fight, euen almost vntill éeuen, with meruaylous slaughter on both sides, the victorie yet doubtfull, till in the ende the Alexandrians began to faint and flye, more oppressed with the excesse of the multitude, than distres­sed for want of manhoode, for there were two and fortie thousand slaine, but not one taken prisoner, and of Cle­rophontes companie eight and twentie thousand slain, and sixe hundred mortally wounded. This monstrous massacre and fearefull slaughter, so amazed the mindes of these two Captaines, that for the better burying of the dead, and healing of them which were hurte, they concluded a truce betwéene them for fiftéene dayes, in which time Orlanio sent Ambassadors to parle of peace w ^t Clerophontes, but in vaine: for he was resolued either [Page 63] valiantly to die in the field with glorie, or to inioye the Dukedome of Alexandria with renowme. Yet as a wor­thie Prince, preferring the securitie of his soldiers before the safetie of his owne person, he offered them the com­bat, which Orlanio to auoide the effusion of bloud, most willingly accepted. Nowe it was agréed and concluded betwéene thē, that two champions might be chosen, who by the dint of the swoord should stint the strife betwéene these two armies. If he of Metelyne remained victor, then Orlanio shuld not onely paie his former tribute, but deliuer vp his Dukedome into the hands of Clerophon­tes. But if y ^• Alexandrians obtained y ^• conquest, y ^• Duke of Metelyne should peaceably depart the countrie, release the tribute, and also resigne his state, and become a sub­iect to Orlanio. And for the better kéeping & confirming of these conditions, they presentlye dispatcht Embassa­dours to Fernandus the king of Bohemia, to intreate his maiestie that he would vouchsafe to become iudge in the combat, who for that he wished wel to both these dukes, graunted to their requests, and with as much spéede as might be, came to Alexandria. But in the meane time there was some difference aboute the champions. For Clerophontes sayd, that sith in loosing the field, consisted the losse of liuing, life, and libertie, and in getting y ^• vic­torie, the gaine of a Dukedome, he would in proper per­son fight the combat and trie the chance of Fortune, and therefore made a challenge to Orlanio. But he finding himselfe farre vnfit to resist his furious force, refused it. Yet promising, that none vnlesse he were descended of Nobilitie should enter the lists, wherwith Clerophon­tes was verie well contented. Nowe while this truce continued, which was prolonged for thirtie dayes, it was lawfull for them of Alexandria to come and viewe the campe of Metelyne, and for the Metelynes to goe and sée the Citie. Wherevpon Clerophontes desirous to sée Or­lanio [Page] and his Court, went onelye accompanied with his garde to Alexandria, where he was most royally enter­tained, and sumptuously feasted by Orlanio, both of them remitting the rigour of their mallice, till it shoulde bee shewed in effect, by reason of their manhood. But as soone as Thersandro and the other Lords saw Clerophontes, y ^• he was rather a monster then a man, hauing each lim so strongly couched, each part so proportioned, so huge of sta­ture, & so fierce of countenance, they were so daūted with the sight of his persō, as they almost feared to come in his presence, saying: that thereof the boldest blouds in Alex­andria were not able to abide the force of Clerophontes. Who now peaceably departing to his hoast, lefte Orlanio as greatly perplexed for assēbling his nobilitie together, amongst whom he appointed the champion shuld be cho­sen. They not onely with one consent withstood his cō ­maund, but began to murmure and mutine against him, condempning him of folly that he would so vnaduisedly commit his own state, & ther stay to the doubtful hazard of one mans hap. Orlanio seeing y ^• it was now no time to chastise this their presumption, vnlesse he meant to raise ciuill dissention in the citie, which were the next way to confirme the enimie, & bréed his owne confusion, he dissē ­bled his cholar & began to work a new way. For first he fréed Castania out of prison, thē made generall proclama­tion throughout his Dukedome, y ^• what Lord so euer w ^t ­in his land would try the combat with Clerophontes, if he remained victor in the conquest, he would not onely giue him his daughter Castania to wife, let him possesse peaceably the Dukedome of Metelyne as her dowry, but be content to acknowledge him as his liege, & paye him tribute, as he was wont to Clerophontes.

While he lingered and listened how this proclamition would preuaile, Castania hearing this seuere sentence & dolefull doome pronounced, séeing that shoulde not onely [Page 64] be forced to forsake Gwydonius, but be constrained to match in marriage with one whome shée should neyther loue nor like, burst forth into these bitter complaintes.

A Alasse (quoth she) how pinching a pain it is to be per­plexed with diuers passions, what a noisome care it is to be combred with sundrie cogitations, what a woo it is to hang betwéene desire & despaire, & what a hell it is to houer betwéene feare and hope. For as to him which is assured to die, death is no dolour, in that he perfectlye knowes there is no salue can cure his sorrow, so to him which feares to die, & yet hopes to liue, death were thrice more welcome, then to linger in such doubt. In which cursed case alas my case consisteth, for as out of the riuer Cea in Sicillia bursteth most feareful flames, and yet the streame is passing colde, neither is the water able to quench the fire, nor the fire cause the water to bée hotte, so the heate of hope flameth out of the chilling fountaine of feare, & yet the force of the one is not able to asswage the vehemencie of the other, but still my heauie heart is diuersly assailed with them both. If my Father Orlanio winne the conquest, I doubt my desire shall neuer haue happie successe, if Clerophontes triumphe as victour, I greatly feare his crueltie is such, as I shall not escape most haplesse death. And yet againe I hope that then my own Gwydonius wil accept me for his, and with trium­phant armes imbrace me. But alas, will Clerophontes suffer him to match with his mortal so, wil he not rather preuent it by my peril? Yes no doubt, if he returne with triumph, my Father shal serue him as a subiect, my bro­ther shall become his vassall, my friendes shall bée for­lorne, my Citie sackt, and my natiue Countrie brought to vtter confusion. And shall I for the loue of a straun­ger wishe these straunge stratagemmes? Shall I to féede mine owne fancie, and content my lustinge [Page] minde, wish my Fathers death, my Brothers bane, my friends mishap, my Countries confusion, and perhappes my owne miserie. For though Gwydonius loued mée when our parents were friendes, he will not now lyke me béeing foes: but to reuenge the iniuries my Father offered him, will subtilly séeke to sacke my honour and honestie, and so triumph of my shame and discredit. Had I not better praie my Father may winne the combat, & then shall I bath in the streames of blisse, and flowe in the flouds of felicitie, then shall I dread no daunger, no feare, no perills: then shall I see my father, friendes, and Countrie, flourish in most happie prosperitie: then shall I inioy some iolly Gentleman, who will loue me béeing young, and cherish me being olde, and possesse the Duke­dome of Metelyne for my dowrie. And canst thou Ca­stama be so ingratefull, as to will his woe which wish­eth thy weale, to desire his destruction which prayeth for thy prosperitie? canst thou be so couetous as to [...]rau [...] that for thy possession, which is thy Gwydonius patrim [...] ­nie, or so suspitious as to accuse him of trecherie, which hath bene but to trustie: to count him a counterfaite, which hath alwaies bene constant? No, come what come will, let froward fortune fauour whome she please, so I may ioy and safely inioy my onely ioy Gwydonius.

As Castania had thus ended her complaint, Gwydo­nius who all this while lurked about the borders of A­lexandria, heard what successe Orlanios affaires had with his Father Clerophontes, how verie fewe or none at all durst trie the combat with him, that his loue and Ladie Castania was the prise that he should get that gained the conquest. Which things considered, supposing y ^• Castania had cast him off, & that she plaid, out of sight out of mind, by a secret and trustie messenger, he presented her with this Letter.

CAstania hauing receiued this Letter, séeing that no si­nister chaunce of fortune was able to change y ^• fixed fancie of Gwydonius, conceiued such assured hope in his constancie, as now she thought his troth was filed with no spot of trecherie, that his faith was quite deuoide of flatterie, and that whatsoeuer chaunced, she might safe­ly repose her staie and state in his loyaltie. Insomuch that to driue out the euill opinion which she thought her brother Thersandro had conceiued of Gwydonius conspi­racie, shée secretly shewed him the Letter, which after he had read ouer and carefully construed euerie clause, hée began both to detect and detest the villanie of Valericus, desiring his sister Castania that she would earnestly per­swade Gwydonius in disguised apparell spéedelye to re­paire to her lodging, promising with solempne vowes and sacred oaths, not to bée preiudiciall to his person: Castania affying greatly in her brothers faith, and desi­rous to haue a sight of her louing Gwydonius, returned him these fewe lines.

GWidonius hauing carefully construed ouer y ^• contents of this louing letter, although y ^e rigor of Orlanio might haue giuē him sufficient cause of suspitiō, yet y ^e cléerenes of his own conscience & the loue he bare to Castania, wold [Page] not suffer him eyther to suspect anie treason, or to doubt of anie deceit, but determined without any delay to put the saftie of his person and the sauegard of his life into her handes. But leauing him to bring his purpose luc­kely to passe, againe to Orlanio.

Who séeing that his proclamation could not preuaile, and that his nobles preferred their owne safetie before his securitie, was perplexed with such hellish passions, and griped with such pinching griefe, as the Ghoasts tor­mented with gri [...]y fiends felt no such haplesse furie. To fight with Clerophontes, he felt his strength farre vnfit to resist his force, to denie the combat hée neither could [...] nor wold, although he brought himselfe to confusion, and his children to captiuitie, so that howsoeuer he tourned himselfe, he sawe before his face death and dispaire, woe and wretchednesse, mishap and miserie. Combred thus with this curelesse care, and sitting solitarily in sorrow, séeing the dismal day drew on, and hearing that Fernan­dus the king of Bohemia was lately landed, he fell into more furious passions, vntill he was driuen out of his dumps by his sonne Thersandro, who perceiuing his fa­ther thus dolefully daunted, he began most louingly to comfort him, promising that since none durst venture to deale with Clerophontes, he himselfe would fight y ^• com­bat, and either worthelye winne the conquest with re­nowme, or manfully die in the field with honour.

Orlanio hearing the bold courage of this new champi­on, felt his sorrow somewhat salued by this proffer, per­swading himselfe y ^• his sonne was better able to abide y ^e brunt then he, & hoping that the Gods would fauour the equitie of the cause, and assuredly by iustice graunt him the victorie. Resting I saie vppon this hope, and than­king Thersandro for his naturall affection, and pray­sing him for his noble courage, hée presentlye went to méete Fernandus, whom he most princely entertained, [Page 67] conducting him very royally into Alexandria, where hée most sumptuously feasted him and all his traine. But as they passed away the time in pastime and pleasure, so poore Thersandro spent the daye in dolour and the night in sorrowe. For although to comfort his Father he made light of the combat, and valiauntly offered him­selfe to trie the chaunce of Fortune, yet séeing his eni­mies force farre to excéede his féeble strength, he began to faint, although like a worthie Gentleman he couered his dreadfull courage with a desperate countenaunce, raunging vp and downe the fieldes to driue awaye his melancholy, where by chaunce in disguised apparaile he met Gwydonius, to whom after some Parle past betwéen them, he bewrayed the whole state of the matter, howe he was to enter combat with Clerophontes, and that hée doubted greatly of the euent of the victorie, fearing the force of his Father, and fainting at his owne imbecili­tie. Which Gwydonius hearing he made this short aun­swere.

THersandro (quoth he) it is vaine with long talke to passe away the time when delay bréedes daunger, & folly to hope for faire weather when the aire is ouer­cast with clowdes: leauing off therefore all oathes to confirme my faith, thus much to the purpose. If it please thée to trust me without triall, and to giue anye confi­dence to my words, I héere promise both to make mani­fest my loyall loue to Castania, and to repay thy courte­sie, that I will, resembling thy person, and disguised in thy armor, enter combat with my father Clerophontes, either intending by winning the victorie to obtaine my will, or by loosing the conquest to want my wish: if this my proffer please thée, I will passe priuilie to y ^t Court, if not good Thersandro, let me goe as I came.

[Page] Thersandro commending the subtill deuise of Gwy­donius caried him as couertly as could be to Castania, to whom he was [...] more welcome than soone come, re­maining closely in her closet till y ^e next morning. Casta­nia [...] nothing of their pretēce. Fernandus [...]ing of Bohemia the nexte daye being gone with all his [...] place appointed for the com­bat. Orlanio, Castania, and all the Lords of Alexandria, clad in mourning attire folowed him, thinking this dis­mall day should be the [...]te of their destruction. And [...] thirfting after bloud, and glory [...]ng in the hope of his supposed conquest, stoode in the [...] foe. To whome Gwy­donius his [...] furnished with the armour of Ther­sandro, presented himselfe▪ Who séeing, that forced by the fond allurements of loue, he was to fight, not wyth his mortal foe, but with his natural father, he fell into these doubtfull dumpes.

Alas poore Gwydonius (quoth he) how art thou com­bred with diuers cogitations, what a cruell conflict dost thou sinde in thy minde betwéene loue and loyaltie, na­ture & necessitie? who euer was so wilfull, as willingly to wage battaile against his owne father? who so cruell as to enter combat with his owne sire? Alas, duetie per­swades me not to practise so monstrous a mischiefe: but the deuotion I owe to Castania driues me to perfourme the déede, were it thrice more daungerous or desperate. The honour I owe to my Father makes me faynt for feare, but once to imagine so brutish a fact: the loue I owe to Castania constrayneth me to defende the combat if Iupiter himselfe made the challenge. And is not (fond foole) necessitie aboue nature, is not the lawe of loue a­boue King or Keyzar, Father or Friends, God or the Diuell? Yes. And so I meane to take it: for either I wil valiantly win the conquest and my Castania, or lose [Page 68] the victorie, and so by death ende my miseries.

With that the trumpets sounded, and Gwydonius lustely leaping into the lystes, fell presentlye into fury­ous fight with his father, driuing not onely Fernandus & Orlanio, but also both the armies into a great doubt, for although Clerophontes most cruelly prosecuted him, yet he alwaies receiued the strokes, but neuer so much as once returned one blow, till at last looking aloft, and spying Castania, his courage so increased, that all feare set aside, he carelessely flang away his sword and shield and ranne vpon his Father, not onely tearing from him his target, but vyolently casting him vpon the ground, and spéedely vnlacing his Helmet, offered to cut off his head with his owne sword: but Clerophontes crying out confessed himselfe captiue, and granted his enimie the conquest. Wherevpon they of Alexandria, gaue a mightie showte, and Fernandus and Orlanio came down readie to carrie Clerophontes captiue to the Citie. But Gwydoni [...]s▪ first demaunded of Orlanio if hée was con­tent to perfourme that which he promised by proclama­tion, to whom Fernandu [...] aunswered that both he would and should or els as he was his friend so he woulde bee his foe. Gwydonius hearing this faithfull assertion of the King, pulling downe his beauer, began to speake in this manner.

I Let thée Orlanio (quoth he) and the worthie king of Bohemia to knowe, that I am Gwydonius, sonne and heire to this conquered Clerophontes, who for the loue of thy Daughter Castania haue not spared contra­rie to the lawe of nature, to fight with mine owne Fa­ther, hoping the destinies by my meanes haue decréed, not onely of fatall foes to make you faithfull friendes, but to finish vp our loue, which otherwise coulde not haue bene perfourmed.

[Page] I haue wonne Orlanio my Fathers Dukedome by vic­torie, and thy Daughter by conquest, the one I had be­fore by inheritaunce and the other by loue, yet I wold willingly haue thy good will, which if thou graunt, I hope my father will both pardon my offence and thinke well of my proffer.

Clerophontes kissing and imbracing Gwydonius, tolde him his care was halfe cured, in that such a good Captaine had wonne the Conquest. Fernandus & Orla­nio stood astonished at this strange Tragedie, doubting in whether they dreampt of such a rare deuice, or saw it effect. At last Orlanio as one wakened out of a traunce, with trickeling teares imbraced Clerophontes, honou­ring him as his Soueraigne, and promising not onely to giue Castania to Gwydonius, but also halfe his Dukedome in dowrie. Clerophontes thanking him for his curtesie, consented most willingly to this motion, so that before Fernandus departed, the marriage betwéen Gwydonius and Castania, Thersandro and Lew­cippa, was most sumptu­ously solemnized.