IN Thessalia, when Nature hath made the soyle proude with the beawtie of Floras riches, as though she meant to wrap Tei­lus in the glorie of her vestments, there dwelled a Magnifico ▪ a man of most ho­norable parentage, whome Fortune had graced with many fauours, and Nature honoured with sundrie exquisite qualities, so beawtified with the excellencie of both, as it was a question whether Fortune or Nature were more prodigall in desciphe­ring the riches of their bounties. This Knight thus enricht with vertue and honour, surnamed Syllanus, had to ioy him in his age a daughter of great beawtie, so exquisite in her ex­teriour feature, as no blemish might eclipse that which Nature had bestowed in her lineaments. This Damsell whose name was Varrona, dayly vsed to trauerse the plaines wherein her fathers shéepe were kept, partly to preuent inconueniences which through idlenesse might haue annoyed [...]ealth, and partlie to ply the care of her fathers folds: (for sh [...] knew that the eyes of the maister fáedes the cattell) which with such dili­gence was performed, as that she seemed with labour to enter [Page] [...] against want and with her hands thrift to preoccupaie her hearts griefe. [...] thus dayly the walks of Thessalia, the Shepheards not a little delighted at the view of so excellent an obiect, held their eyes fortunate when they might behold her feature, accounting him happie that could lay his flocks née­rest vnto her walks. Amongst these that fed their thoughts on her fauours, there was one called Lysimachus, a yong youth, that had the pride of his yéeres triumphing in his counte­nance, a man, whose parentage though it were worshipfull, yet was it not indued with much wealth, insomuch that his wit was better then his reuenewes, and his industrie more beneficiall then his substance. This Lysimachus trauailing a­mongst the lawnes, no sooner had a glaunce of her beawtie, but set downe his staffe, resoluing either to perish in so swéete a laborinth, or in time happily to stumble out with Theseus: In which extasie he shall remaine, till we haue described the cause why he left Macedonia his natiue countrey, and the perilous euents which hapned during his voyage hither into Thessalia.

This youth was one of the sonnes of Alexandro, who ha­uing passed the prime of his youth in sundry battailes against Astolpho king of Lydia, at last (as the date of time hath his course) grew aged, his haires were siluer hewed, and the map of his age was figured on his forehead, in such sort, as that all men might perceiue his glasse was run, and that nature of necessitie challenged her due. Alexandro that knewe the tearme of his life was now expired, hauing two sonnes by his wife Olympias, the very pride of his forepassed yéeres, thought now, seeing death by constraint would compell him to leaue them, with wholesome admonitions and louing perswa­sions for the increasing of their ensuing amitie, to distribute in their portions the substance of his wealth for the countercheck of pouertie. All which being done, to the end that they might not forget his axioms, he gaue them a scroule, wherein they might reade what their father dying, willed them to execute liuing. At which Alexandro shrunke downe in his bed, and gaue vp the ghost. Whose death was greatly lamented of his [Page] two sonnes, and bewayled of all his friends, especially of his fellow warriours, who attended on his funerals, which were performed with great solemnities. His obsequies done, Va­lentine caused his Epitaph, with the contents of the scrowle to be pourtrayed out, which were to this effect.

• 1 LEt Gods worship be your mornings worke, and his wisedome the direction of your dayes labour.
• 2 Rise not without thanks, neither sleepe without repentance.
• 3 Choose but a few friends, and try those, for the flatterer speakes fairest.
• 4 If you haue discreet wiues, make them your Secretaries, else lock your thoughts in your hearts, for women are seldome silent.
• 5 If they be faire, be not iealous, for suspition cures not womens follies.
• 6 If they be wise, wrong them not: for if they loue others, they will loath you.
• 7 Let your childrens nurture be their richest portion: for wisedome is more precious then wealth.
• 8 Be not proud amongst your poore neighbours: for a poore mans hate is perillous.
• 9 Nor too familiar with great men: for presumption wins disdaine.
• 10 Neither too prodigall in your fare, nor dye indebted to your bellies, enough is a feast.
• 11 Be not enuious, least ye fall in your owne imaginations.
• 12 Vse patience, mirth, and quiet: for care is an enemy to health.

Valentine hauing thus set vp his schedule, & hangd about his fathers coffin many passionat poems, that al Macedonia might [Page] suppose him to be passing sorrowfull, clad himselfe and his younger brother Lysimachus all in blacke, and in such sable suites discoursed his griefe: But as the Hiena when she mournes is most guilefull, [...] Valentine vnder the shew of dolour shadowed his heart full of contented thoughts: The Tyger though he hide his clawes, will at last discouer his rapine: The Lions looke are not the maps of his meaning, nor a mans phisnomie the display of his secrets. Fire cannot be hid in straw, nor the nature of a man so conceald, but at last it will haue his course: nature and arte may do much, but that Natura naturans which by purgation is engraffed in the heart, will be at last perforce predominant. Euen thus and no o­therwise fared it with Valentine, for after a quarter of a yéeres lamentation was ended, he entred into consideration how he might extort from his yonger brother the substance bequeathed him by his father, if not defraud him vtterly of his due, yet make such hauock of his legacie, as it should be a great deale the lighter, whereupon he began thus to meditate with himselfe.

In this humour Valentine left his Chamber, vowing the performance of these diuellish resolutions. Thus for two or three day [...]s being very pensiue, and full of many passions, it chanced that as he walked thus in his muses, fetching the compasse of his conceit beyond the Moone, he met with two beggerly fellowes, who as their custome was, began their Exordium with I pray good Maister, and so forth, hoping to finde the Gentleman as liberall, as he was full of gratious fa­uours: neither did they misse of their imagination, for he thought them likely to be drawne on to the execution of his [Page] purpose, conceipted thus, that gold was as good as glew to knit them to any practise whatsoeuer, and therefore out with his purse & grea [...]ed thē in the hands with a brace of angels. This vnaccustomed reward made thē more franck of curtesies, that euery rag reacht the Gentleman a reuerence, with promise o [...] many prayers for his health. He that harped on another string tooke y ^e men by the hands, & sitting down vpō the gréene grasse, discourst vnto them frō point to point the beginning of his sor­rowes, & how by no meanes (except by them) he could rest sa­tisfied. The beggers desirous to do the Gentleman any plea­sure, said they were readie to take any paines that might re­dound to his content, whereupon he replied thus. Then my good friends, ye shall run into yonder towne (pointing to Ido­mena) making solemne exclamations that if present remedy be not adhibited, there will be no question but that the destruction of a certaine person in this wood wil be vnfallible, being sorely opprest by a desperat russian: if ye can cunningly & closely thus conuay vnto the officers the tenour of your minds, I will [...]o highly gratifie you, as neuer afterwards ye shalbe found to ex­ercise your old occupation. These hell hounds gla [...] of this large proffer, promised to venter aioynt, but they would fur­ther him in his enterprise: whereupon he dispatcht them away, whose minds were so fixed on this liberall condition, that they be stirred their stumps till they came vnto the towne: where notice of their aduertisement being taken, assisted by the Ma­gistrate they made to y ^e wood: who no sooner were come within the reach of Valentines eye, but puffing & blowing, as though all would haue split againe, he posted vnto them, charging thē vpon their alleageance they bore to their soueraigne Lord their King, that they should not spare to execute the rigour of the lawe vpon his brother, who estéeming gold sufficient honour, became so deafe against my fathers philosophicall harmonie, and made more value of profit then of vertue, as to the end that he might strip me out of my possessions, came rushing in, and laid such violent hands vpon me, as had not the sight of your approaching hither terrified his vnnaturall stratagem, [Page] he had ere this bereaued me of life. Whereupon séeing his no­torious villanie which so long lay hid in the ashes of pretended simplicitie, thus discouered, and after this sort detected, for his better securitie betooke himselfe to his héeles, whome if you follow downe along this vale towards my house, he cannot possiblie escape your hands.

Fortune that saw how Lysimachus valewed not her deitie, but held her power in scorne, thought to haue about with him, and brought the matter to passe thus. Lysimachus as his v­suall maner was, walked before his brothers house in a valley betwéene two high mountaines (topt with trées of maruellous verdure, whereby ran a fountaine pleasant, as well for the murmur of the streames, as for the swéetnes of waters) with his Boare-speare vpon his neck, where hauing stroken a Déere, and but lightly hurt, he packed downe by the groue in great hasle expecting his fall: from whence he might espie his brother accompanied with a crue of armed men following him: amazed at this sight, as he stoode gazing, his nose on a sodaine bled, which made him coniecture (as it was indéede) that there was some dangerous euent pretended. As soone as they were come within his reach, Valentine commanded the officers without further examination, to carry him to prison. Lysimachus smiling both at the enuious treacherie, and co­wardize of his brother, brookt all the iniuries of fortune with patience. Lying in prison all night, the next morning as soone as the day brake, taking a Cytterne in his hand, he warbled out this mournefull Sonnet.

Hauing thus chaunted ouer his Sonnet, he heard the prison doore open, whereupon he grew passing melancholie, and not without cause, for the Iayler certified him that the Burgoma­sters of the towne were assembled in the common hall, to heare how he could cléere himselfe of the accusations which were laid to his charge. At this Lysimachus taking heart of grace, being imboldned with his innocencie, he boldlie went with the officers vnto the hall, with whom (as the nature of man is desirous of nouelties) came a great prease of people to heare the matter throughlie canuased. When Lysimachus was thus brought before the barre, Valentine his brother who had suborned these retchles roagues solemlie to depose that they saw him preiudicially bent, began his inuectiue thus.

[Page]I am sory graue citizens and inhabitants of Idoniana, that this day I am come to accuse my brother Lysimachus, whose vertues hitherto haue woon him many fauours and the out­ward shew of his good qualities hath been highlie applauded of all men: but my conscience constraineth me, not to conceale such hainous sinne, and the rigour of the law chargeth me not to smother vp so great an offence without rebuke. This consi­dered, I am forced to discouer a wicked déede that this Lysi­machus hath committed, and that is this. It chanced (as I walked solitarie downe my woods to see if any of my Ewes and Lambs (as it is my ordinarie custome) were stragled downe to the strond to browze on sea Iuie, whereof they take especiall delight to féede that my brother hauing concealed a secret resolution of some desperat plot, and could no longer hide fire in the flaxe, nor oyle in the flame (for enuie is like lightning that will appeare in the darkest fog) and séeing now opportunitie answerable to the performance of a mischiefe, thought best not to let it slip, but assaulted me with such vio­lence, redoubling his stroakes with such courage, that had not the arriuall of the officers been speedie, my death had been so­daine. For proofe hereof, these men pointing to the b [...]ggars) shall heere before you all make present deposition, and with that he reacht them a Bible, whereon being sold vnto sinne, and sworne to wickednes, they swore that Lysimachus was most preiudicially bent. At which oath the people that were Iurors in the cause, belieuing the protestations of Valentine, and the depositions of the roages, presentlie found him guiltie, and Valentine and the rest of the Burgomasters gaue wage­ment, that he should the next day at the Market place loose his head. As soone as Lysimachus heard the censure, he appeald for no mercy, nor abasht any whit, as one d [...]sirous of fauour, but li [...]ting vp his eyes to heauen, only said thus.

O God, which seest the secrets of all hearts, & knowest all things before they come to passe, which discernest the very inward thoughts▪ and trie [...]t the hearts & [...]: Thou knowest that my brother hath slandered me with [...] me, [Page] whereof I was neuer guiltie, that he hath produced these [...] men by a sinister subordination to periure themselues in a fault▪ when [...] not so much as in thought, I committed such a fact▪ he hath to satisfie his malitious mind without cause deuised this false crime. I confesse O Lord my selfe to be a most grieuous offender, and to deserue far greater punishment▪ but not for this dee [...]. Hea [...] then my prayer, and let the innocencie of my case pleade before thy diuine maiestie: if it be thy will preuent his practises, confound his counsels, and let him which hath digged the pit for others, fall into the [...] himselfe. Thou hast neuer as [...] ô Lord [...] the succourlesse without help, but hast deliuered them which feare the [...], from all aduersitie. No [...] who hath trusted in thy mercie, which hath come to mishap [...] or who hath [...] his hope in thee, and hath suffered harme? So ô Lord if it be thy will, thou canst disclose the deuise of this my bro­ther Valentine, and vnfold the follies of these false witnesses, help thou ô Lord, for in thee is my trust. The people bea­ring, the salcu [...], [...] [...]ations of [...] Lysimachus, thought he had spoken these words to excuse his fault, but not that he was guiltlesse of the fact▪ giuing more credit to the speeches of Valentine, and is the oathes of the man counte­nanced out by the Bourgomasters, then to the [...] of a yong man, supposing his spéeches were more of custome to choake his follies, then of conscience to cleere himselfe of that crime, returned him backe againe to prison, till the day as­signed for his punishment. Where beeing deeply grieued, and yet smothering his sorrowes with patience, he lay the rest of the day. When night was come, Fortune that was carefull other champion began to smile, and brought it so to passe, that as Lysimachus was walking vp the battlements of the Castell wherein hee was prisoner, he espied from whence he might leape downe withouthurt, and so escape away with securitie. Glad of this as a man most valiant, and trusting to his fortunes, couragiouslie skipt downe with little preiudice, which being performed, he trudged amaine [Page] to the sea shore, where boording a Foist which by chance there lay at Ancour, hée boised vp Sayle, as hauing the winds somewhat benigne, purposing thither to direct his course, whither Fortune and Aeolus would conduct him, whom for a while we will leaue, and returne againe to Valentine.

The morrow was the day of punishment, and Valen­tine was so desirous to sée the execution performed, that he passed the night with little sléepe: but as soone as Phoebus had vayled the curtaine of the night, and made Aurora blush with giuing her the Bezolas labras in her siluer couch, he got him vp, and dispatcht an officer to the Iaylor to pro­duce his prisoner to execution, who returned him this an­swere, Non est inuentus. This newes draue Valentine into a great melancholie, that presentlie he went to the Sheriffes, giuing them to vnderstand of this information, whose hearts were so set on fire, that they straight raised all the countrie, and made hue and crie after him. But Lysimachus kno­wing full well the secret wayes that led vnto the sea coast, stole away priuilie through a part of the Prouince of Myg­donia, and escaped safe to the sea. Valentine séeing himselfe thus brought into a fooles paradize, despairing of his bro­thers recouerie, as a man carelesse what should become of him, tooke horse and rode home, where he trusted (séeing the stop was remoued which galled him to the quicke) to end the currant of his yéeres in all contented quietnes: hauing heaued vp to promotion those two vassailes of sinne, whose lamentable fortunes, together with the principall member, shall at large hereafter be declared. These unexpected acci­dents compelled Lysimachus to leaue his natiue countrie Macedonia, and in forrei [...] places to purchase more fauourable fortunes, with whome, wee will nowe be­gin.

Lysimachus hauing for the space of thrée or foure dayes sayled without descrying land, sole Lord ouer the vessell, as hauing none to comfort him, at last he might discouer the [Page] coast of Thessalia whereon (as a man ioyfull of land) he was cast: vpon which [...]stening the Prince, he chanced on [...] that led into the chick of a Forrest, where wandring without meate, he was almost famished, at last hunger growing on so extreame, like a mad man he ranged vp and downe the woods, seeking to encounter some wilde beast with a Iauelin which he made at his entrance into the chick [...]. He had not gone far, but he espied a Shepheard, desirous therefore to be relieued by his fauours, he saluted him thus. Shepheard, for so far thy attire warrants me: courteous, for so much thy countenance imports: if a distressed person whom fortune hath wronged, and the seas haue fauoured (if I may count it fauour to liue and want) may without offence craue so far ayd, as to know some place where to rest my wearie and weather-beaten bones, thanks thou shalt haue as thy due, and more thou canst not haue, for my abilities deny me to perfourme a déeper debt. But if any wayes it please thée to command me, vse me as far as the power of a poore Gentleman will stretch. The Shep­heard hearing him speake so grauely, made him this answere. Stranger, your degrée I know not, therefore pardon if I giue lesse title then your estate meriteth: Fortunes frownes are Princes fortunes, and Kings are subiect to chance and desti­nie. Mishap is to be salued with pittie, not with scorne, and we that are fortunes darlings are bound to relieue them that are in distresse: therefore follow me, and you shall haue such suc­cour as a Shepheard may affoord. Lysimachus was passing glad and Procyon (for so was the Shepheards name) led the way, who being desirous to infer some occasion of parly, began his prattle thus. If thou be a man of such worth as I valew thée by thy exteriour lineaments, make discourse vnto me what is the cause of thy pre [...]nt misfortunes, for by the fur­rowes in thy face thou séemest to be crost with mishaps: but whatsoeuer or whosoeuer, let me craue that fauour to heare the tragick cause of thy estate. Lysimachus séeing by the Shepheards lookes that he was desirous to heare the discourse of his fortunes, briefly shaped him this replie. In that your [Page] lookes sées my griefe, and your thoughts pittie my woes, my tongue shall giue you thanks (the bountie of sorrowes ten­nant) and my heart pray that the gods may be as friendlie to your flocks, as you are fauourable vnto me. How I arriued here gentle Shepheard inquire not, least it be tedious for thée to heare it, and a double griefe for me to rehearse it. Procyon not willing to occasionate offence, as hauing affection pour­trayed in his visage, he conueyed him home to his house, as soone as he was arriued there, he began at the doore to en­tertaine him thus. Sir, this is my cottage wherein I liue con­tent, and your lodging, where (please it you) you may rest quiet. I haue no rich clothes of Aegipt to couer the walls, nor store of plate to discouer any wealth, for Shepheards vse nei­ther to be proud nor couetous. You shall find héere chéese and milke for dainties, and wooll for clothing, in euery corner of the house Content sitting smiling, and tempering euery homely thing with a welcome: this if you can brooke and accept of [...]as allow the meanest hospitalitie) you shall haue such fare as Philemon & Baucis gaue to Iuppiter. Lysimachus thankt him hartily, and going into his house found what he promi­sed. After that he had sat a litle by the fire & w [...]ll warmed him, he went to supper, where Lysimachus fed well, as one whom the sea had made hungrie, and so plied his téeth that all supper he spake not one word. After he had taken his repast, Procyon séeing him wearie, and that sléepe chimed on to rest, let him see his lodging, and so gaue him the good night.

The Sunne was no sooner the next morning stept from the bed of Aurora but the Shepheard got him vp and went to his [...]olds, where letting foorth his sheepe, after he had espied where they should graze, he returned home, and looking when his guest should rise, hauing slept in the last night, went roundlie to his breakefast: by that time he had ended his de suine, Ly­simachus was gotten vp, against whose rising Od [...]sa Pro­cyons wife had shewne her cookerie, and the Shepheard tired in his russet iacket, no sooner had espied his guest comming out of his Chamber but bade him good morrow, with a looke not [Page] so much vnfeigned as affectionate: whom after breakefast was ended, Procyon led foorth to sée his folds, plodding thus ouer the gréene fields, at last they came to the mountaines where his flocks grazed, and there he discoursed vnto him the plea­sures of a countrie life, thus Did you but (Sir) liue a while in this condition, you would say the Court were rather a place of sorrow then of solace. Here shall not fortune thwart you, but in meane misfortunes, as the losse of a few Shéepe, which as it bréedes beggerie, so it can be no extreame preiudice, the next yeare may mend all with a fresh increase. We drinke with­out suspition, and sléepe without care, enuie stirres not vs, we couet not to climbe, our desires m [...]unt not aboue our de­grées, nor our thoughts ab [...]ue our fortunes. Care (as I [...]) cannot harbour in our co [...]ages, nor do our homely couches know broken slumbers: as we [...]xcéede not [...]ll diet, so we haue enough to satisfie. The Shepheard made Lysimachus so much in loue with the countrie life, that euery day he led foorth his flocks with such delight, that he held his exile happie, and thought no content to the blisse of a countrie cottage.

Lysimachus vsing thus daylie with bag and bottle to goe a field in more pleasant content of minde then euer he was in his owne countrie with Valentine his brother, it chanced on a day being inforced by the heate of the Sunne to seeke for shelter, as he sate vnder the shadow of Limon trées, fortune (who is like she Camelion) variable with euery obiect, and constant in nothing but in inconstancie, thought to make him a mirrour of mutabilitie, and therfore still crost him con­trarilie. Thinking to recouer his cottage, it fell out that cer­taine rascalls (who after they had forraged in the Thessalian confines) espying Lysimachus, and taking a generall suruey of his extraordinarie lineaments, thought that he was very like for the performance of some bold attempt, and in time of necessitie no small assistance vnto their enterprises: where­vpon thus resolued, they came rushing in, and laid violent hands vpon him, who séeing that all hope of libertie should be taken away if he yéelded, thought rather to die in his owne [Page] defence, then any way be depriued of such an especiall priui­ledge, and therefore dealt such blowes amongst them with his weapon, as he did witnesse well vpon their carcases that he was no coward. But as ne Hercules quidem contra duos, so Lysimachus could not resist a multitude, hauing none to second him: so that he was not only bat [...]ed, but sore woun­ded, and to be briefe perforce hoysed a Ship-boord, where for the space of a day or two being with the Pirates carried into the huge Ocean, at length the Fates sitting downe in their Sinode to make Lysimachus happie, ordered so the matter, that inaugre their beards (by a tempest which sodainely a­rose) they were cast againe vpon the borders of Thessalia. This aduerse wind fatally sent for the purchasing of Lysi­machus enfranchisement continued thus contrarie three mo­neths, the violence whereof, with the strange accidents that during the continuance thereof befell, I referre to the Annales of the Thessalians, which dilate not a little of it. These Pirates thus by a stormie constreint being sore against their wills compelled to lye quiet at rode, at length through long conti­nuance necessitie began to haue eminencie, swaying all things with a cheek, and constraining them as tributorie to yéeld the soueraignetie vnto her supremacie. Whilest thus they were taxed with want, they bethought themselues how that the present season exacted a warme coate, and a hot chimney▪ and therefore déemed it not vnbehoucable, if by the diligēce of two or thrée, that want might be supplied. Which being concluded, our weather beaten souldier Lysimachus was inioyned (see­ming that way desirous) to adde in that exploit his indulgēce: who putting vp all abuses with patience by the outward ap­pearance, séemed so content with that present cōdition, as that little mistrust of reuenge in him was perceiued. Well, being come into the wood, Lysimachus thinking it hie time to put in: triall the assay of his redemption, heaued vp a forres [...] bill which he had on his neck, and the first he stroke, had neuer after more néede of the Phisition, charging his blowes with such magna­nimi [...]ie, that the slaues were amazed at his valour, so y ^t in short [Page] time he had slain two, & left the third in such sor [...] sore wounded, as that there was none or very litle hope of his recouerie. Ha­uing rid his hands of these his welwillers, he had not so much care of executing his iniunction, as he had of escaping away with safetie, which as he performed with great diligence, so it wrought his future contented happines. The Pirates after long expectation waited (but all in vaine) for the returne of their adherents, whom when they perceiued that euery houre they were more slack in hastening homewards, misdoubted (and not amisse) least some vnexpected casualtie might befall them, which when by their arriuall in that place they found true, seeing Lysimachus was absent, imagined that through his meanes these horrible deedes were brought to passe, but not daring to make pursuit after him, for feare of leaping ouer the shooes in transgressions, they rested patient, bearing vnto their galley thrée dead carkases (for by this time the suruiuer had yeelded nature her due) to solemnize their funeralls with a watrie buriall: what afterward betead of thē I cease to relate, in that I neither esteeme the persons, nor valew their actions.

By this time Lysimachus was come within the view of his host Procyons cottage, vnto which he made with such ce­leritie, as the recouerie thereof was spéedie: being entred, he found the Shepheard and his wife at dinner, whome after this manner he saluted. Gentle Shepheard, and courteous, tempered with the beautie of affabilitie, and the lineaments of thy face graced with the fauours of clemency, as many good fortunes to you and your wife, as your selues can desire or imagin. Procyon hearing one so superfine, looking backward perceiued that it was his guest Lysimachus, whom (sodainly rising from the table) he entertained with as many fauours, as he tollerated his absence with dolours, whereupon he tooke him by the hand, and bade him welcome, willing him to sit downe in his place, and in his roome not only to eate his fill, but as Lord of the house to thinke himselfe welcome: well, [...]o be short, he fell eagerly to his victuals, and feasted himselfe with such cates as they had. As soone as he had victualled the [Page] campe, the Shepheard and his wife were desirous to heare what hard fortune compelled him to be so long absent, reque­sted Lysimachus to discourse (if it were not any wayes pre­iudiciall vnto him) the cause of his so long discontinuance. Lysimachus (desirous to satisfie the courtesie of his fauorable host, first beginning his E [...]ordium with a volée of fighes, and a fewe luke-warme teares) prosecuted his discourse, and throughlie informed them of his misfortunes, how as he was sitting vnder a couert most pleasantlie scituated, which with the thicknes of the boughes so shadowed the [...]lace, that Phoe­bus could not prie into that arbour, so vnite [...] were the tops of so thick a closure, that Venus there in her iollitie might haue [...]allied vnséene with her déerest paramour. Fast by to make she place more gorgeous, was there a Font, so Christaline and cleere, that it séemed Diana with her Driades and Hemadri­ades had that spring as the secret of their bathings. In this glorious arbour (I say) as I sate, it chanced that certaine rascalls comming a bootehailing into those parts discouered me, being discouered, haled me on ship-boord, whither being haled, I had iourneyed with them had not the winds in being more fauorable forbad our course with their prosperous oppo­sition. Lying thus still (quoth he) two moneths, at length ne­cessitie grew powerfull amongst vs, which willed vs with la­bour to supplie those things that else by propagation would be perilous, whereupon my selfe with three more being charged to vndergo this enterprise, I supposed it not amisse being in a desert place, if I made hay while the Sunne shined, and tooke opportunitie by the forelocks, and thereupon betooke my selfe to my weapon, minding in this resolution either to escape a­way with safetie, or valiantly to die immediately, rather then I would be returned back and kept in such seruile subiection, as though I were the sonne of some countrie vass [...]ile, from whom as you see I am deliuered, and that with little preiu­dice. When Procyon heard this he fell on the neck of Lysi­machus, being excéeding ioyfull for his safe arriuall, being thereto moued by reason that (for sundrie vertues which he [Page] [...] shine in his honest simplicitie) he loued him excée­dingly, and tooke an intimate delight in his company: where­fore with these words of true friendship he did embrace him.

Lysimachus, let not thy brothers vnkindnes which thou hast felt, the inclemencie of thy kinne that I doubt hereafter [...]hou shalt finde, nor the miseries whatsoeuer thou hast either passed, or doest endure, further appale thy spirit, then may be recouered by thy friends comfort. Thou knowest how déerely I haue held thee, and what care euer since thy first sight I re­ceiued of thy well doing, I had rather in action make knowne my loue, then in words but wearie thy hearing: and albeit my abillitie cannot counteruaile my desire, yet in affection I will not be wanting any wayes vnto you. Lysimachus in a sud­daine passion surprised with this rare piece of friendship, after the recouerie of a little traunce, yéelded him most humble thanks: adding moreouer, that if euer fortune tyed her fauours in the top of his crest, he would not wound the remembrance of these his extraordinarie courtesies with obliuion.

Resting thus in the house with the shepheard, to auoyd tedious conceits, he framed himselfe so to countrie labours, that he oft times would leade the flockes to the field himselfe, and being drest in homely attire, seemed like amorous Paris courting Oenone. Néere to this place dwelt the aboue-na­med Gentleman Syllanus, of great worship, greater posses­sions, but of greatest perfections, so that it was doubted, whether he was more indebted to his parents for petigree, to nurture for pietie, or to fortune for prosperitie, yet most chiefly he thought himselfe beholden to Nature, that had in his decaying yéeres, and decrepit old age, bestowed on him so precious a pearle and déere iewell as his yong daughter Varrona, admired at that time as the onely Paragon and Phoenix of Thessalia: which thing this good old sire percei­uing, made him as carefull to bréede her, as ioyfull that she was borne, thinking within himselfe that as she was [Page] notable for her beautie, so should she be noted for her hone­stie: and seeing Nature had inuested her with so pleasing a personage, Nurture should not denie her as plausible beha­uiour, and that she should be as swéete in manners, as séemely in making, which through his diligent performance afterwards came to passe.

This Varrona was the very picture and patterne of in­comparable comelinesse, the perfect péece in whom nature played her prize against arte, and in whome her silent ora­torie pleaded both for pricke and price. This Paragon see­med to surpasse the perfection of the rest amongst whom she was sorted, and amongst whome she shined as an orient pearle opposite to pebles, or Cynthias golden beames ob­scuring the twinckling starres: None erst looked on her, but loued her. Her stature was tall, and her golden wiered tres­ses wherewith her comely head abounded, were infolded with Unions and Ouches, with Diamonds and Chrysolites, sauing some lawlesse locks amongst the rest hung loosely a­doring her temples, being all prettily frisled, crisped, and tusked.

In her high forehead wherein no wrinckle appeared▪ Cupid had placed his Iuorie Bowe, on which her i [...]tlie eys-browes resembled Venus. beautified by the neere op­position of her black bearded Vulcan. What shall I stand in describing her eyes, those celestiall lamps, or her cheekes like damaske roses sprinkled with morning deaw? in whose dimples were the Graces dwellings? What shall I recount her corall, daintie chinne, and allablaster neck? each part deserued praise, each member admiration. In swéete elo­quence she resembled Cornelia: her lookes were chearefull, yet chaste: merrie, yet modest: courteous, not contemptu­ous. Hercules Gallus had all mens eares linked in the chaine which he held in his hand, but Varrona held both their eares, tongues, and hearts, all men pratled of her, all praysed her. First, gazed they at the heauenlie hewe of her beautie, then at the excellencie of her brauerie, then wondred [Page] they at the rarenesse of her courtesie, then they admired her passing good graces, then were they amazed at the specialitie of her fine behauiour, thē the twinckling of her eies did so dimme their lesser lights, that they could neither sustaine to behold her, or abstaine frō beholding her. This Uirgin, or rather Goddesse, euery day vsed to view the plaines wherein her fathers shéepe were kept (as it hath bene alreadie mentioned) in a skarlet peti­coate, defending her face from the heate of the Sunne, with no other vaile, but with a garland made of boughes and flowers: which attire became her so gallantly, as that she séemed to be the Goddesse Flora her selfe for beautie. On a day as Lysima­chus sat amongst the shrubs, by chance fixing his eies on the glorious obiect of her face, he noted her tre [...]ies in such sort, that whereas heretofore he was a contemner of Venus, was now by the wilie shaft of Cupid so intangled in the perfectiō & beau­teous excellencie of Varrona, as now he swore no benigne Planet but Venus, no God but Cupid, no exquisite Deitie but Loue.

Being thus fettered with the pliant perswasions of fancie, impatient in his new affections, as the horse that neuer before felt the spurre, he could not bridle his new conceiued amours, but before he came to Procyons house where daily he did con­tinue, he endured such a Metamorphosis in his mind, that he was constrained to crosse himselfe with these or the like contra­rieties.

But stay: what newe motions are these Lysimachus? what heauie conceits, what dumpish thoughts possesse thée? what strange and vnacquainted fits disquiet thée? what furie, what fiend torments thée? by whome, where, when did it come Lysimachus? Ah Varrona, Varrona, heauenlie Varrona, and nothing but Varrona! why how now? hast thou so long es­caped the snares of beautie, and must thou now tast of the baite? hast thou gazed on so many faces, & none but this could fit thy fancie? accompanied heretofore so many gallants, yet none could please thée? descried so many behauiours, viewed so many vertues, and none could delight thée, none could entice [Page] thée? yea but stay Lysimachus, runne not too fast, least thou loose thy breath: wade not too farre sith thou art sure to sinke: yéeld not to loue, as thou louest thy life: kill it in the roote, or breake it in the bud, beware of the blossome, as thou tenderest thy safetie. Thou hast bene alwaies accompted the despiser of fancie, and wilt thou now be noted the desirer of beautie? thou which hast trod Venus vnder thy feete, wilt thou wrap therein thy heart? earst reiecting them as sluttish ragges, and now re­garding them as the garments of a Goddesse? But Varrona, Oh swéete Varrona, the very patterne of Uertue, beauties liuely grace, the onely Idea of Iupiters dreame, and paragon of natures perfection.

By this time he was come home, and casting himselfe im­mediately on his bed, on a suddein started as one in an extasie, surprised with the notable view of some rare singularitie, or drowned as it were in a déepe sea of surpassing delight, and wholy contemplating the substance of Varrona, which he al­readie most curiously had shadowed in his heart, he began to fall into a slumber, but loue impatient of delaies and control­ment, bestowed a sharpe arrow vpon him to aggrauate his sore that alreadie was vncurable, which made him with a new sup­plie redouble his griefs, with this passionate part.

I sée there is no stopping of the streame, but to force the greater flowing: no killing the vine by cuting it: the repressing of Cupids rage, is the more to kindle affection. Ah cursed Cu­pid, ah vniust dieitie, the restrainer of libertie, the maister of fol­lie, the ouerthrow of honestie, a ruine of youth, an arch nemie to the whole world: hast thou none to pricke, none to poison, but poore Lysimachus? then would I he were not Lysimachus, or else as he hath bene Lysimachus. But alas must I needs shake hands with libertie, and bid fréedome farewell, must my quiet weale become a malecontented warre? must my pleasures be passions, my songs sighes and sobs, my mirth melancholy, my moderate thoughts amorous conceits? Then farewell discreti­on where desire diuelleth: farewell wit, if will beare sway: and farewell counsaile, if loue be the Lawier. But why doest thou [Page] argue with loue; seeing thou hast not thy loue? assay rather to enioy thy loue, so that any t [...]ay thou [...] ease thy loue. Ah but whom doe I loue? Varrona, easie to be wonne if she were not Varrona. But infortunate Lysimachus, if he winne not Varrona: yea but what hope cāst thou haue of her amitie, with whome as yet thou hast no acquaintance? Cease therefore to furmise that which surpasseth thy sense, die rather with desire then liue for disgrace, for well maist thou loue Varrona, but neuer be liked of Varrona.

Lysimachus hauing thus tented his wound, and finding the hurt so desperate, yéelded his maymed mind as a patient to be cured by Varronas onely mercie: perswading himselfe that there was none so daintie, none so loftie, and none so cruel, but loyaltie with constancie might make them courteous. Houering in this hope he began to take heart a grace, assuring himselfe almost of that gaine that was not so lightly gained, but when he mustered in his conceits how Varrona was discen­ded, how womens ears are not their tuchstones, but their eies, and how a dr [...]m of honour weighs downe a pound of wit, how their hearts reacheth to the pulses of their hands, and let a man rub that with gold, and tis hard but they will prooue his hearts gold, he was presently driuen into such dampes, and being as it were in a laborinth of thoughts, was faine to cease thinking. At the last comming to himselfe, he tooke it not amisse, if the next day he walked abroad to sée if the fields would further his desires, or minister some matter to mittigate his maladie: but comming into the aire, the ag [...]e of loues disease began to sha [...]e him afresh, and made him sometimes hot, sometimes cold, sometimes in hope, and sometimes in feare; and thus at euerie step in a contrarie thought, he heard the Nightingale record in her song as he surmised his passionate sorrowes, and applying his tune to her note, he began to beare his part.

When Lysimachus had warbled out those words, and wrested the confideration of Varronas disposition Venus wil­ling to bestow vpō him the benefit of that friēdly aspect, which he most desired, ordered so the matter y ^t Varrona according to her vsuall manner did frequent the leas wherein her fathers sheepe grazed, who with two other damosells sat vnder the side of an hil, making a garland of such homely floures as the fildes did affoord. This sight so reuiued his spirits that he drew nigh, with more iudgment to take a view of her singular perfection, which he found to be such, as in that countrie attire she stained all the countrie dames of Thessalia: while thus he stood gazing with piercing lookes on her surpassing beautie, Varrona cast her eie aside, and espied Lysimachus, as yet altogether vnknowne vnto her, which sodaine sight made her to blush, and to die her christall chéekes with a vermilion red, which gaue her such a grace as that she séemed farre more beautifull. And with that rising vp, Lysimachus, (that could well skill to court all kind of degrees, least he might then be thought to haue little manners) encountred them thus.

[Page]Ladyes beléeue me, loue is of more force then warres, and the lookes of women pierce déeper then the stroke of the lance, there is no Curtlax so kéene, but armour of high proofe can withstand: but beauties arrowes are so sharp, and the darts that flie frō womens eyes are so piercing, as the Corslet tem­pered by Vulcan for Didoes paramour, hold [...] not out the vio­lence of their strokes. The gods tremble when Mars shaketh his launce, but he feareth when Venus casteth a frowne. A­lexander neuer tooke notice of the legions of his enemies, but he stood frighted at the beautie of the Amazon. Then swéete saints of Thessalia, meruaile not if I were driuen into a maze at the sight of such beauteous creatures, whose faces are Ve­nus weapons wherewith she checketh the pride of ouer-da­ring warriours. I cannot (Ladies) court it as your gallant yongsters, that tye their wits-to their fancies, nor fill your eares with amorous discourses, as Cupids apprentices, that spend their time in such louing philosophie. Nor can I faine conceited supposes of affection, to prooue my selfe loue-sicke by poetrie, but as a blunt shepheard new come from the folds, I offer my selfe a deuout seruant to your beauties, swearing to defend your honours against all men with the hazard of my bloud, and in pawne thereof, generally to you all, but specially to one (as loue hath his vnitie) I desire to be entertained as a dutifull seruant to the Lady Varrona. Lysimachus hauing thus boldly boorded these louely virgine, the Ladies seeing with what affection he offered his seruice to Varrona, began to bite the lip, and she to blush, who seeing her selfe toucht to the quick, made this answere.

I know not (shepheard) how to answere of loue, because as yet I neuer knew loue: ignorant of his forces, because ne­uer acquainted with his fortunes. Vesta forbids vs virgins to name Venus▪ as they of Ephesus hatefull Erostratus. Diana déeles not in Paphos, nor suffers she any of her maydens to hunt in Erecynus, least méeting with Venus meacocks, they skip with Calisto, and so séeke after losse. The lesse you are priuate the loues passions, the more welcome to our presence: [Page] for rather had we fill our eares with shepheards sonnets, then with [...], and sweeter are the teares that grow from the losse of a fewe shéepe, then a smile from a comicke tale of fancie, For your seruice (gentle swaine) finding my selfe vn­worthie, I craue pardon, but if it please you to be accepted as a worthie Shepheard, and my fathers friend, looke for such fauour as my honour and virginitie can affoord.

Lysimachus hearing the plausible answere of Varrona, although her first infirmation séemed to answere for his pur­pose, as preferring the lawnes of Diana, and fires of Vesta, before loues holy temples, yet she concluded so swéetly as might stand with the modestie of her honour, he therefore made thus his replie. In that Madame we are but nouices in loue, the simpler are our thoughts, and the néerer should be the simpathie of our affections. Doues match when they are yong, [...]ens are graffed when they are sprigs, the one part not but by death, nor are the other seuered but they perish. Shep­heards are like Uirgins, the one striuing to liue vertuous, the other to die patientlie, both enemies to loue, while they wait on those which brooke not loue, I meane labour, and Vesta. But both must loue, as hauing hearts, and thoughts, eyes to sée beautie, and eares to iudge of vertue: I Madame, while I thought none greater then Pan, was vowed to Pan, but seeing womens wits are more powerfull then he, I haue resigned ouer my fortunes at his shrine, and meane to make proofe of the swéetnes of loue: glad that in my first entrance I haue the patronage of your gratious fauour, armed with the which, Mars well may frowne, but not conquer. But sir, (quoth Varrona) I graunted any fauour to Lysimachus the Shep­heard, not to Lysimachus the louer. And so (Madame quoth he) I accept of it, for I am a Shepheard to do you seruice, and a louer despight of my selfe. Varrona being a Lady of passing merrie disposition, hearing him thus to reason prettilie, thought to sift him in this manner. I sée well (Shepheard) that as women have their fauours, so men haue their sayings, the one prodigall in gruess, the other politick in deceits, being [Page] as cunning to dissemble loue, as we charie to discharge loue. We thought to haue found you a flat Shepheard, as ignorant in loues, as we of fancies, but how closely soeuer you couer the flame, the fire will be knowne by the sinoake. For your talke so fauours of loues principles, as we iudge you are as cunning in faining a passion, as in folding shéepe, and can as soone deceiue a woman with a pen, as adde a cure to a diseased lambe. This will make vs to take you for a day friend, and what we like in you present, to disalow to morrow, swearing if you bring amongst vs Venus roses, we will beate you with Vestaes nettles: and therefore if you will be admitted as our Shepheard, we either forbid you to say no more of loue, or else you shall be out of our fauours. If ( Varrona) said he, thou hadst enioyned me as Iuno did to Hercules most dangerous labours▪ I would haue discouered my loue by obedience, and my affection by death: with that pulling forth his Pipe, began after some melodie to carroll this Madrigall.

Scarce had the Shepheard ended this Madrigale, but Varrona began to frowne, saying, he had broken promise. Lysimachus alleadged if he vttered any passion, twas sung, not said. Thus these two in an humorous descant of their pra [...]tie, espied a farre off other Shepheards comming towards them, so that he leauing the Gentlewomen, taking his leaue friendlie of them all, but specially with a pittifull glancing looke towards Varrona, as crauing some fauour for his farewell, he stole to his Shéepe, & the damosels incontinently went home, who by the way recalled to mind the proportion of Lysima­chus, his not vulgar behauiour, adding besides that his gate was more stately then ordinarie Shepheards: moreouer, a kind of maiestie that remained in his lookes, the séemelines of which did so shine farre aboue the rest, that all Thessalia sup­posed that he was Coridon, or one more fine then Coridon, swéet Phyllis her good man. Whē Varrona was come home, she tooke leaue for a while of her two friends, and stealing into her closet, she began to remember the diuine perfection of the Shepheard. Cupid waiting to spie this Uestall at aduantage, séeing her halfe at discouert, vnlosed a shaft, headed with de­sire, & feathered with conceit, which piercing the tender brest of this yong mayden, he made her shrinke at the blow, and so breath out this complaint.

[Page]Ay me, now I sée, and sorrowing sigh to sée, that Dianas lawrels, are harbourers of Venus doues, tha [...] there trace as well through the lawns, wantons, as chast ones, that Calisto be she neuer so charie will cast an amorous eie at courting loue, that Diana her selfe will change her shape, but she will not ho­nour loue in a shadowe: maidens ries, be they as hard as dia­monds, yet Cupid hath drugs to make them more pliable then ware. See Varrona how fortune and loue haue interleagued themselues to be thy foes, and to make thée their subiect or else their obiect, haue inueigled thy sight, with a most glorious ob­iect. Of late thou heldst Venus for a giglet, not a Goddesse, now thou shalt be forced to sue suppli [...] to her deitie: Cupid was a boy and blind, but alas his eie had aime enough to pierce thée to the heart. I haue heard them say, that loue lookes not at lowe cottages, that Venus iets in robes, and not in rags, that her sonne flies so high, as that he scornes to w [...]ich pouertie with his [...]. Tush Varrona the s [...]are [...] tales, and nei­ther [...] all precept [...], no [...] once [...] thée, that peta [...] haue their [...] as well as Prin­ces: that swaines, as they haue there labours, so haue they their amours, & loue lurkes assoone about a shaeycoate as a pallace. And for those dames that are like Diana, that affect Ioue in no shape, but in a shewer of gold, I wish them [...] with much wealth and little wit, that the want of the [...] ble­mish the abundance of the other. It [...] staine the [...] shepheards life to set the end of passions vpon pelfe. Loues [...] looke not so low as gold, there are no fees to be paied in Cupids courts, and in elder times the shepheards loue gifts were ap­ples and chestnuts, and their desires were loyall, and their thoughts constant. As she was thus bevating the passions of her mind, one or her acquaintance interrupted her disquiet with his approach from the Duke her father presently to come to him; where for a while I will leaue her, and returne againe to tell you how the matter stood with Lysimachus.

Such was the inconstant sorrows that he sustained to thinke on the witte and beautie of Varrona, as that he be­gan [Page] to loose his wōted appetite, to looke [...] and [...] in stead of or mirth, to feede on melancholie: for countrie meriments; to vse cold dumps. In so much that not onely Procyon and his wife Odrisa, but all the whole village began to maruaile at his suddaine alteration▪ thinking that some lingring sicknes had brought him to this state. Wherefore they caused Physitions to come, but Lysimachus heither would let them minister, nor so much as suffer them to sée his vrine: but remained still so op­pressed with passions, as he feared in him selfe a further incon­uenience. His pouertie wished him to cease from such follies, but loue forced him to followe [...], yea and in despight of pouertie, [...] the conque [...] [...] so that her [...] desires cau­sed him [...]o find new [...]. For he [...] his cham­ber, there he began to put downe the passions of his pen to this effect.

When Lysimachus had written out his passionate fan­cies he carried the paper to the messenger, which he for that purpose had prepared, desiring him to vse the best regard in deliuerie of it, wishing him not to present his mistresse there­with vntill he saw her in some pleasent vaine, for he was in great feare least Varrona would rather rend then read it. Toxeus (for so the messenger was called) expecting oportuni­tie, espied a time as he thought most conuenient, Varrona and two or thrée Gentlemen merrilie discoursing of amorous phy­losophie, this messenger almost marueiling to sée her so plea­sant, thought it now the fittest time to make deliuery of his mes­sage, gaue her Lysimachus letter, who perusing it to the first period, perceiued the practise of all, and beautifying her face with modest blushing, was halfe angrie with Toxeus that he made himselfe messenger of so vaine a matter, yet considering it came from that worthie shepheard, she vouchsafed it, and wished the messenger in the euening to come for an answere. Varrona immediately vpon her man Toxeus departure per­vsed it a thousand times, and a thousand times kissed it, till at last wrapping it in a white silke scarfe, she gaue it a place a­mongst her iewels of price: very glad therefore that Lysima­chus had giuen the onset, she determined to counterbuffe him in this manner.

Varrona hauing thus ended her letter, she deliuered it to Toxeus, who sending him spéedely to Lysimachus lodging, [...] him very melancholy, and all God w [...]t was about Varrona. Lysimachus hauing receiued the letter, entered [Page] into his Chamber, and read the contents. No sooner had he viewed and reuiewed ouer her cruell determination, but in a great extasie of minde he cried out ( Dulcior est mors quàm a­mor:) and with that slinging out of his Chamber, he fell into bitter, and extreame sorrowes. Procyon grieuing at his friends hard fortune, sought with plausible perswasions to ap­pease his furious melancholie, wishing him whatsoeuer Var­rona wrote, still to thinke her a woman, that would one while thrust out fancie with a finger, and streight entertaine loue as a friend: that either time, or his constancie would make her stoope to the lure of his desires. Thus sought the Shepheard to wrest him from his passions; but in vaine, for her answers confirmed with such perswas [...]e determinations so quietted the conceit of his hope, that going melancholie to his bed, loue left him to his quiet slumbers which were not long, for as soone as Phoebus shaking his deawie lockes on the mountaines, had posted from the watry cabbin of Nereus, summoning plow swames to their handie labour, Lysimachus rose, and with Procyon went into the fields, where vnfolding their Sheepe, they sate them downe vn [...]e [...] on Oliue trée, both of them diuersly affected, Lysimachus ioying in the excellencie of Varrona, and Procyon sorrowing for the griefes which Lysimachus susteined, not quiet in thought till he might heare of his health. As thus both of them sate in their [...] they might espie where Varrona with her two Gentlewomen tript amongst the lawnes. At this sodaine spectacle, as a man metamorphosed, he lightly sprang from the groand, desiring to salute the sole mistres of his thoughts: wherefore willing the Shepheard to expect his returne, he bo [...]ded her with this kind of gréeting; giuing her likewise the Boniorno thus.

Gentle Nymph, all hayle, and as prosperous be you in your enterprises, as you happie in content. If I be blunt in discoue­ring my affections, and [...]loquence in [...]uelling out my loues, I appeale to the [...] of veritie which moweth no subtili [...]e [...], to [...] my selfe therefore [...] your [...], with [...] and [...] Var­rona, [Page] that before I saw you I knew not loues cumber, but held affection as a toy, not as a maladie, vsing fancie as the Hiperborej do their flowers, which they weare in their bo­somes all day, and cast them into the fire for fuell at night. I liked all, because I loued none, and who was most faire, on her I fed mine eyes, but as charilie as the Bée, that as soone as she hath suckt hony from the Rose, streight flies to the Marigold. Liuing thus at my owne list, I wondred at such as were in loue, and when I read their passions, I tooke them only for poems that flowed from the quicknes of their wit, not the sorrowes of the heart. But now faire Nymph loue hath taught me such a lesson, that I must confesse his deitie and dignitie, as there is nothing so pretious as beautie, so there is nothing more piercing then fancy. For since my eye tooke a curious suruey of your excellence, I haue béen so fettered with your beautie and vertue, as (swéete Varrona) Lysimachus with­out further circumstance loues Varrona. I could point out my louely desires with long ambages, but seeing in many words lies mistrust, and that truth is euer naked, let this suf­fice for countrie wooing, Lysimachus loues Varrona, and none but Varrona. Although these words were most hea­uenlie harmonie in the eares of the Nymph, yet to séeme coy at the first courting, and to disdaine loue, howsoeuer she disdai­ned loue she made him this replie.

Ah Lysimachus, though I séeme simple, yet am I more subtile then to swallow the hooke, because it hath a painted bait: as men are wise, so women are warie, specially if they haue that wit by others harmes to beware. Do we not know Lysimachus, that mens tongues are like Mercuries pipe, that can inchaunt Argus with an hundred eyes? and their words as preiudiciall as the charmes of Circes ▪ that trans­formed men into monsters? If such Syrens sing, we poore women had [...]de stop our eares, least in hearing we prooue so foolish hardie, [...] to belieue them: and so perish in trusting much, and susp [...]ting little. Lysimachus Piscator ictus sapit▪ he that hath bene once poisoned, and afterwards feare not to [Page] bowse of euery potion, is worthie to suffer double penance. Giue me leaue to mistrust, though I do not condemne. Lysi­machus is now in loue with Varrona, he a Shepheard of meane parents, she a Lady of great parentage: he poore, she honourable. Can loue consist of contrarieties? Will she Faulcon pearch with the [...]atresse? the Lion harbour with the Wolfe? Will Venus ioyne roabes and rags together? or can there be a sympathie betweene a King and a begger? Then Lysimachus, how can I beléeue that loue should vnite our thoughts, when fortune hath set such difference betweene our degrees? But thou likest of Varronas beawtie. Men in their fancie resemble y ^e Waspe which scornes that flower frō which she had fetcht her wax: playing like the inhabitāts of the Iland Tenerifa, who whē they haue gathered the sweet spices, vse the trées for fewell: so men, hauing glutted thēselues with the faire of womens faces, hold them for necessarie euils, and wearied with that which they séemed so much to loue, cast away fancie, as children do their rattles: and loathing that which so deeplie before they liked, especially such as take loue in a minute, and haue their eyes attractiue like iet, apt to entertaine any obiect, are as readie to let it slip againe. Lysimachus hearing how Varrona harpt still on one string, which was the doubt of mens constancie, he brake off her sharp inuectiue thus.

I grant Varrona (quoth he) many men haue done amisse, in proouing soone ripe, and soone rotten, but particular instances infer no generall cōclusions: and therfore I hope, what others haue faulted in, shall not preiudice my fauours. I will not vse sophistrie to cōfirme my loue, for that is subtilitie: nor long dis­courses, least my words might be thought more then my faith: but if this will suffice, that by the trust of a Shepheard, I loue Varrona, and woe Varrona, not to crop the blossomes, & re­iect the trée, but to consummate my faithfull desires in the ho­nourable end of marriage. At this word marriage, Varrona stood in a maze what to answere, fearing if she were too coy, to driue him away with her disdaine: if she were too courteous, to discouer the heate of her desires; in a dilemma thus what to do, at last this she said.

[Page] Lysimachus, euer since I saw thée, I fauoured thée, I cannot dissemble my desires, because I sée thou dost faithfully manifest thy thoughts, & in liking thée, I haue thée so far as my honour holds fancie still in suspence, but if I knew thée as vertuous as thy actions do pretend, and as well qualified whereof you make demonstration, the doubt should be quickly decided, but for this time to giue thée answer, assure thy selfe thus, I will ei­ther marrie with Lysimachus, or still liue a virgin, & with this they streined one anothers hand. He hauing his answer, gaue a curteous adew to them 3. but specially to Varrona, & so play­ing loth to depart, he went to Procyon, who all this while at­tended his comming, vnto whom Lysimachus made a true re­lation of all those things which passed betwéene them, aduerti­sing him of the lenitiue remedies which she applied vnto his maladious spirit, whom we will for a time permit to meditate on his singular expectations, and returne vnto Syllanus, Var­ronas father. He hauing intelligence of the secret méetings which these two louers daily vsed, being excéeding much dis­pleased, vpō a day as he walked into his Garden, by chance he met with Varrona, accompanied with diuers Gentlewomen, whom saluting very gratiously, he passed by them, and taking his daughter by the hand, walking aside with her into an open gréene walke, fell into this talke with her.

Why huswife (quoth he) are you so idle tasked that you stand vpon thornes vntill you haue a husband? are you no sooner hat­ched with the Lapwing, but you wil run away with the shel on your head? soone pricks the tree that wil prooue a thorne, and a girle that loues too soone wil repent too late. What a husband? why the maydes of Rome durst not looke at Venus temple till they were 30, nor went they vnmasked till they were maried, that neither their beauties might allure other, nor they glance their eyes on euery wanton. Egipt is plagued with a dearth, I tell thée fond girle when Nilus ouerfloweth before his time, the trées that blossome in February, are nipped with the frosts in May: vntimely fruits had neuer good fortune, & yong Genile-women that are wooed and wonne ere they be wise, sorrow and [Page] repent before they be old. What [...] thou in Lysimachus that thine eye m [...]st choose, and thy heart must fancie? Is he beautiful? why fond girle, what thy eye liketh at morne, it ha­teth at night: loue is like a hauen but a blaze: and beautie, how can I better compare it then to the gorgeous Cedar, that is onely for shewe, and nothing for profit? to the apples of Tanta­lus that are precious in the eye, and dust in the hand? to the starre Artophilax that is most bright, but fitteth not for any compasse: so yong men that stand vpon their outward por­trayture, I tell thee are preuidiciall: Demophoon was fayre, but how dealt he with Phillis? Aeneas was a braue man, but a dissembler: all but little worth if they be not wealthie. And I pray thee what substance hath Lysimachus to endue thée with? hast thou not heard that want breakes amitie, that loue which beginneth not in gold, doth end in beggerie: that such as marrie but to a faire face, tie themselues oft to a soule bargaine? And what wilt thou doe with a husband that is not able to main­taine thée? buy forsooth a dram of pleasure with a pound of sor­rowe, and a pinte of content with a whole tunne of preiudiciall displeasures? But why doe I cast stones in the ayre, or breath my words into the wind, when to perswade a woman from her will is to rowle Sisyphus stone: or to tie a head-strong girle from loue, is to tie furies againe infetters. Therefore huswife as you tender my affection I commaund you to surcease those vaine and idle matters, which please me as much as the sting­ing of a waspe: and shall profit you as little, as fire to coole your thirst. And with that in a rage he flung away not admiting her replie.

Varrona perceiuing her fathers good will thus alienated from her, fearing a further inconuenience, did in humilitie sub­mit her selfe to his disposing, not vsing any longer her accus­tomed walkes. Which Lysimachus perceiuing, mused greatly what should become of his loue; somewhile he thought she ha [...] taken some word vnkindly, and had taken th [...] pet, then he ima­gined some new loue had withdrawne her fancie, or happilie she was sicke, or detained by some great bu [...]nesse of Syllanus.

[Page]These [...] [...]id Lysimachus cast into his head, who hauing loue in his heart, proued restlesse, and halfe with­out patience that Varrona wronged him with so long ab­sence: for loue measures euery minuit, and thinkes houres to be daies, and dayes to be monethes, till he feeds his eies with the sight of his desired obiect. Thus perplexed liued poore Ly­simachus, while on a day siting with Procyon in a great du [...]pe, he was crediblie informed by Toxc us of those sorrow­full accidents: at which being sodainely surprised with griefe, and string his eyes on the starrie concaue, began thus in their presence to vtter passionate cōplaints, not limiting his lamnēts with distinct clauses, for his moane admitted no methode.

Iniurious heauens (quoth he) hath your influence effected this misfortune? iniust gods, haue you in enuying this my pros­peritie, depriued me of the view of that wherein I imagined my whole felicitie should consist? vngentle Cupid hast thou déeming my Varrona fairer then thy Pshyche, thwarted thus my doating humour? I will wander through the earth augmenting the springs with streames of my teares, filling the woods with rebounding Ecchoes of my woes, tracing the plaines with my restlesse steps. O that I might equall Or­pheus in art, as I excell him in anguish! the powerful vertue of his heauēly tunes amazed furious beasts, staied fluēt streames, raised stones, assembled trées, mouing sense in senselesse things. Descending to the silent [...]aults of A [...]heron, he caused ghostes to groane, shadowes to sigh, effecting relēting thoughts in hels remorslesse iudges. But were I his pheere in that profession, I would do more, enforcing Syllanus her father not touched with such a sympathie, to leaue his suspition, and grant me my loue: whither do I wandere Is this to rest: leaue Lysimachus: nay procéed Lysimachus: cease to suppose, begin to sorrow: Ay me, wretched me, hoplesse, hopelesse, what meanes can I now con­ceit, what deuise may now be potted▪ Her [...]a [...] he s [...]pt, and ope­ning the flood-gates of his eyes, distilled a shewer of teares, supplying his spéeches with déepe sighes: But resoluing to procéed, he was interrupted by the shepheard: who hearing the [Page] words of his complaints, lamented at the [...] of his sor­rowes, [...] by all meanes to [...] of his memorie the rememberance of these caushalties, assuring him that time being the wachstone of loue, would no doubt sort all things for his content: and so (quoth he) you s [...] it is time to [...]old our flockes, with that they [...] shéepe [...] home: but he poore soule that had loue his [...] thoughts set on fire with the [...] began to cau [...]nate [...] vpon the [...] which Varrona had receiued from her father. Remaining in this pitifull plight, féeding on nothing but heauie dispaire, he became so changed in his bodie and soule, as though they had bene now [...]. But [...] good hap his mourning being ouerheard by the good shepheard, and finding him so transformed, [...] [...] ­formed Varrona thereof. She hauing taken diligent notice of this his information, admired greatly at the constancie of his affection, and séeing her father vpon vrgent affaires was rode to the Court, she déemed if not amisse herselfe to goe and visit him. Who calling vpon Lysimachus with a [...]hrill voice, recouered him better with her words, then withall the potions or hot drinkes she could deuise to giue him. Lysima­chus staring her in the face, muttered (as it séemed) to him­selfe, but remained spéechlesse, but she with great care com­forted him (as a woman want no good words in such a case) and brought him againe to the vse [...] his tongue, wherewith he soul [...]red out these words.

Ah Varrona! cruell dispaire hath so mangled my swéete hope, that vnlesse I finde some spéedie remedie, the wound will growe incurable, and willing to goe forward his breath failed him. Lysimachus (quoth she) as I am ignorant of the cause, so I am sorrowfull for thy disease: and I would I had as much power to heale thy extremitie, as will to performe it, if it shall not preiudice the glorie of my credit, or blemish my honour▪ therefore if it be in my hands to better thée▪ assure thy selfe to [...] the benefit, the honour of my name alwaies excepted.

[Page] Lysimachus [...] a while thought it best to discouer him­selfe, and presently to receiue the con [...]t to life, or the reply to death (for his life & death did depend in her answere) & praying the rest to depart, with a sighing spirit, and trembling chéere, disclosed himselfe.

A [...] my swéete Varrona, in whose answere is seated my heauen or hell; to recount to you my sorrowes, or repent my loue, can neither ease me of the one, or further me in the o­ther, s [...]eing your selfe shall appeare a witnesse in them both. Al­though that reason did somewhat prefer me, by the benefit of séemely gouernment, keeping in subiection the vntamed ap­petite of furious affections, yet confirming it by my owne eye­sight, the manifold grace [...] wherewith [...]ame nature hath migh­tily enriched you, I found my thoughts so fiercely assaulted, that either I must yéeld to be your captiue, or else die in the combat. Yea the glistering bea [...] of your heauenly per­fections so pierced my heart, that I was forced to forsake rea­son▪ to followe affections and to forgoe libertie, to liue in bondage: if it may be tearmed bondage, to serue with loue such rare excellencie. Hauing tasted so much of fancies cup, and the drinke dispiersing it selfe into euery part, I felt such passions in mine vnacquainted conceits, that nothing but the rememberance of your swéetest sake, could procure my ease, fully resolued to serue, loue, and honour Varro­na, till the destinies of death should denie me. Tumbling in the extremitie of these straunge passions, and hearing that thy fathers suspition, or rather iealousie of our late vnited sim­pathie, doth watch like Argus ouer Io, vnwilling that thou shouldest passe beyond the reach of his eye, vnlesse as the thinkes thou shouldest ouerreach thy selfe, my contents were turned into delayes complaints, and my pleasure wrapt in this laborynth of grieuous lamentations: but now noting the ex [...]temitie of thy fortunes, I find that Venus hath made this constant to requite my miseries, and that where the grea­test onset is giuen by fortune, there is strongest defence made by affection.

[Page]Thus I doubt not but thy father in watching thée, ouer-wa­keth himselfe, and (I hope) profiteth as little, as they which gaze on the flames of Aetna, which vanish out of the sight in smoake. Varrona throughlie vnderstanding his rare and ruthfull discourse, with wéeping eyes, and sorrowfull chéere, embracing him in her armes, after a sugred kisse, gaue him this swéete comfort.

The heauens Lysimachus by their miraculous working haue taken truce with our affections, whose diuine influence, I thinke by some secret contemplation do séeme to conclude our loues. It may be I haue béen liked of some, and flattered of many, but neuer deserued of any, but only of thée Lysima­chus, whose life, loue, and loyaltie, may iustly claime an in­t [...]rest in the fauourable consent, and constancie of thy Var­rona. Lysimachus hearing this heauenlie harmonie, was so rauished betweene ioy and feare (for he feared least it had bin but a dreame) that he was not able to vtter one word, but at last sensibly perceiuing that it was no vision, but the veritie of his desires, staying himselfe by her hand, concluded thus.

Ah swéete Varrona, the only reuiuer of my dying spirit, al­though neither heauen nor earth can affoord me thanks suf­ficient to requite thine honourable fauour, yet shall the zealous truth and tried loue of Lysimachus affections encounter the glorie of Varronas beawtie. And I vow by the heauens, that when Lysimachus shall let his eye slip from thy beawtie, or his thoughts from thy qualities, or his heart from thy ver­tues, or his whole life from euer honouring thée, then shall heauen cease to haue starres, the earth trées, the world ele­ments, and euery thing reuersed shall fall to their former Chaos. Hauing thus plight their troth each to other, séeing they could not haue the full fruition of their loue in Thessalia, for that Syllanus consent would neuer be granted to so meane a match. Varrona determined as soone as time and opportu­nitie would giue her leaue, to prouide a great masse of money, and many rich and costly iewels for the easier carriage, and then to transport themselues and their treasure into Thracia, [Page] where they would leade a contented life, vntill such time as ei­ther she should be reconciled to her father, or else by succession, (being the sole child her father had) come to the Dukedome. This deuise was greatlie praised of Lysimachus, for he fea­red, if the Duke her father should but heare of the contract, that his furie would be such, as no lesse then death would stand for painment. He therefore told her that delay bred dan­ger, that many mishaps did fall out betwéene the cup and the lip, and that to auoyd anger it were best with as much spéede as might be to passe out of Thessalia, least fortune might pre­uent their pretence with some new despight. Varrona, whom loue pricked forward with desire, promised to dispatch her af­faires with as great haste as either time or opportunitie would giue her leaue, and so resting vpon this point after many im­bracings and swéete kisses they departed.

Varrona hauing taken her leaue of her best beloued Lysi­machus, went immediately home, her merrie countenance giuing no suspition of mistrust at all. Lysimachus poore soule was no lesse ioyfull, that being a Shepheard, fortune had fa­uoured him so, as to reward him with the loue of a Ladie, ho­ping in time to be aduanced from that condition, to be the hus­band of a rich Princesse. So that he thought euery houre a yeare, till by their departure they might preuent danger, not ceasing still to go euery day to his Shéepe, not so much for the care of the flocke, as for the desire he had so sée his loue, and swéete heart Varrona, who oftentimes when opportunitie would serue priuately repaired thither (albeit her fathers pro­hibition to the contrary) to feede her fancie with the sweete content of Lysimachus presence. And albeit she neuer went to visit him but most secretly, yet her oft repaire made her not only suspected, but knowne to diuers of their neighbours, who for the good will they bare to old Procyon, told him secretly of the matter, wishing him to aduertise Lysimachus of it, that he would if it were possible restraine his libertie. In the meane time Varrona was not slacke in her affaires, but applied her matters with such diligence, that she prouided all things fit [Page] for their iourney. Treasure and Iewels she had gotten great store, thinking there was no better friend then mony in a strange country: rich attire she had prouided for Lysimachus, and because she could not bring the matter to passe, without the help and aduise of some one, she made the old seruant of hers called Toxeus, who had serued her from his childhoode priuie to her affaires, who séeing no perswasions could pre­uaile to diuert her from her setled determination, gaue his consent, and dealt so secretlie in the cause, that within short space he had gotten a Ship readie for their passage. The Mariners, seeing a fit gale of wind for their purpose, wished Toxeus to make no delayes, least if they pretermitted this good weather, they might stay long ere they had such a faire winde. Toxeus fearing that his negligence should hin­der the iourney, in the night time conueighed the Trunkes full of treasure into the Ship, and by secret meanes let Lysi­machus vnderstand, that the next morning they meant to depart: he vpon the newes slept very little that night, but got him vp earely and went to his sheepe, looking euery minute when he should sée Varrona. Now see the valiantnes of a virgin, or rather consider the force of loue, which maketh the weake strong, the witlesse wise, the simple subtile, yea, and the most cowards most couragious. For that morning Var­rona attired her selfe in one of her Pages apparell, and trud­ged out of the towne, as if she had béen sent on some message, and so fast as her faint legges (but strengthened by loue) could carrie her, she hasted through the woods to the fields, where the saint whom she only honoured was readie to receiue her: who though at the first he knew her not, but thought she had béen Cupid or Mercurie fallen from the heauens, yet at length by her louing lookes cast vpon him, he knew who it was, and embracing her fast in his armes, said; If Iupiter (swéete wench) should sée thée in this Pages apparell, no doubt but he would forgoe his Ganymede, and take thée vp into heauen in his stéede. O most soueraigne Ladie and Mistres, what seruice shall I be able euer to do you, which [Page] may counteruaile this kindnes? what dutie can be a due recompence to this good will? If I by any meanes can re­quite this curtesie, I neuer doubt to be déemed vngratefull while I liue. But accept (good Ladie) I beséech you, that which is in me to performe, which is, the faithfullest heart that euer was vowed to Ladie, which when it swerueth from you, let the torments of Tantalus, Tytius, Sysiphus, and all the ruthfull rout of hell be heaped vpon me. Varrona hearing him so earnest, said.

Few words (most worthie Lysimachus) are enough to win credit to a matter alreadie belieued: for only vpon confidence of your constant & faithfull heart towards me, I haue thus vn­aduisedly aduentured mine honour as you see, desiring you not sinisterlie to thinke of this my attempt, being boldned thereto by the great loue which I bare towards you, & by the loyaltie which I looke for of you towards me. Ah (said Lysimachus) if I should make any ill interpretatiō of your vertuous loue and sincere affection towards me, I were the veriest villaine on earth: for I take God to witnes, I take your forward will for such friēdly fauour, that I doubt my deserts will neuer be able to answer thereto as I desire: and with that he aptly ended his talk vpō her mouth. Now frō thence they posted to the hauen where the Ship lay, not daring any longer to stay for feare of apprehēsion by posts which should be sent after thē. Whither so soone as they were come, the Mariners were readie with their Cock-boate to set them aboord, where being coucht toge­ther in a cabbin, they horsting their maine sailes weighed anchor, and haled into the deepe, hauing a lustie gale in the poope which draue them gallantly forward. But on the next morning about the breake of the day, the aire began to be o­uercast, the winds to rise, the seas to swell, yea presently there arose such a fearefull tempest as the Ship was in danger to be swallowed vp with euery sea, the maine mast with y ^• violēce of the wind was throwne ouer-boord the sayles were torne, the tackling went in sunder, the storme raging s [...]ill so furiously, that poore V [...]rrona was almost dead for feare, but that she [Page] was greatly comforted with the presence of Lysimachus. The tempest continued thrée daies, all which time the marriners euery minute looked for death, and the ayre was so darke­ned with cloudes, that the maister could not tell by the com­passe in what coast they were. But vpon the fourth day a­bout nine of the clock, the wind began to cease, the sea to waxe calme, and the skie to be cleere, and the marriners descryed the coast of Arcadia: shooting off their ordināce for ioy that they had escaped such a feareful tempest. Lysimachus hearing that they were arriued at some harbor, swéetly kissed Varrona, & bad her be of good courage, being set on land, and rewarding the marri­ners bountifully for their paines, they soiourned in a little vil­lage a mile distant from the sea, where after they had rested for a day, they made prouisiō for their mariage, which according to the sacred rites was solemnely celebrated: which being perfor­med, putting on pilgrims aparrell, they went hand in hand, and heart in hart, wailfully and wilfully wandring in that vn­knowne countrie Arcadia, to auoide further punishment and displeasure.

Sée (gentlewomen) the lamentable lot of loue which draue Varrona from her pleasant pallace, from her flourishing friends, from her traine of seruants, from her sumptuous fare, from her gorgeous garments, from varietie of delights, from secure quietnesse: yea from heauenly happines, to wilde wilder­nesse: to desart dens, to careful caues: to hard chéere with haw [...]s and hippes, to pilgrims pelts: to perill of spoiling, to danger of deuouring to miserie of mind, to affliction of bodie, yea to hel­lish heauinesse. O pittiles parent! to prefer his own hate before his childs loue, his owne displeasures, before his childs plea­sures, to forget that himselfe was once yong and subiect to loue, to measure the fi [...]ie flames of youth by the dead coals of age, to gouerne his child by his owne lust, which now is, not which was in times past To séeke to alter his naturall affection from his daughter vpon so [...]ight a cause, shewing himselfe a rebell to nature, to vndo the destinies, and disappoint the appointment of the Gods, shewing himselfe a traytor to them.

[Page]Two or three dayes being passed, and noe newes heard of Varrona, Syllanus assured of her escape, cryed out as a man halfe lunatick, he was by Lysimachus robd of his onely iewel, wherevpon in a dispairing furie he cmomanded Procyon to be sent for in al hast. Who maruailing what the matter should be, began to examine his owne conscience, wherein he had offen­ded the Duke, but imboldn [...]d with his inocencie, couragiously went to the pallace: whither assoone as he came, he was not ad­mitted vnto the presence of Syllanus, but presently sent to pri­son. Many passionate thoughts came into his head, till at last he began to fall into consideration of Lysimachus tollies, and to meditate with himselfe: leaning his head on his hand, and his elbow on his knee, full of sorrow, grief, and disquieted passions, he resolued into these tearmes.

Unhappie Procyon, whome too much courtesie hath led to these misfortunes, and vaine credulitie wrapt in the maze of these calamities. Now I see, but alas too late, that the smoothest tales for the most part haue put small truth, that the fowlest skin is couered with faire paintings, that vice lieth obfuscated in the cinders of honest simplicitie. Woe worth the day where­in my eie offended in the prodigalitie of her sight: woe worth that I pittied his destresses, relieued his wants, tooke compassi­on of his necessities, succoured his state, entertained him, fauo­red, affected him, and approued his behauior. All these I greatly feare, will if not ruinate my selfe, yet make shipwracke of my credit and liking with the Duke, so that by liuing I shall die to want, & by death purchase such a name of infamie as neuer shal be forgotten: be penitent, & assign thy life some penance to disco­uer thy sorow, & pacifie his wrath. In the depth of this his passi­on, he was sent for to the duke, who with a looke that threatned death, intertained him & demanded of him where his daughter was. Procyon made answere, that indeede Lysimachus was too familiar with Varrona his daughter▪ wherevpon I fearing the worst (quoth he) about 3. or 4. daies past verie sharply re­buked him for his saucinesse: adding moreouer, that if it were not lest, he would bring both vpon himselfe extreme preuidice, [Page] and eternall confusion vpon me and my wife: now the next morning after, I neither heard of him or sawe him. Sylla [...]us perceiuing the mans vnfained simplicitie, let him depart with­out incurring further displeasure, concealing such secret griefe for his daughters re [...]hlesse follie, that she had so forgotten her honour, and parentage by so base a choice, to dishonour her fa­ther, and discredit her selfe, that with verie care and thought he fell into a quartain feue [...], which was so vnfit for his aged yeares and complexion, that he became so weake, as the Phisi­tions would not grant him no life. And one day being in his a­gonie he breathed out his griefs in this sorrowfull sort.

I [...] nature by the diuine prouidence of God, did not moue vs to the [...] of mankind, surely the charge of childrē is such a heauie burden, that it would feare men from entring into the holy state of matrimony. For to omit the inconueni­ence of their infancy, which are infinite, when they drawe once to mans estate, what time they should be a stay to our stagge­ring age, good God with what trouble do they torment [...]with what cares do they consume vs? what annoyes doe they af­flict our decaying yeares withal? They say we are renued and reuiued as it were in our ofspring, but we may say we die daylie in thinking of the desperate deedes of our children. And as the spider [...]eleth if her webbe be prickt but with the point of a p [...]me: so if our children are touched but with the least trouble that is, we feele the force of it to pierce vs to the heart. But how well this tender care is by them consi­dered, alas it maketh my heart bléede to thinke. If we looke for obedience of them, and that [...]hey should followe our counsaile in the conueigh of their affaires, why they imagine we doate, and their owne wits are farre better then ones. If we warne them to be warie and thriftie, they thinke it procée­deth rather of couetousnesse then of kindnesse: if we prouide them no marriages, it is because we will depart with no liuing to them: if we perswade them to marriage, it is be­cause we will haue them to forsake all good fellowship, and liue like clownes in the countrie by the plough taile: if we [Page] perswade them to learning, it is, that they might liue by it without our charge: if we perswade them to one wife ra­ther then an other, it is because the one is richer then the other. If we looke seuerely to them, we loue them not: if we vse them familiarly, we feede them with flatterie, be­cause we will giue them little: and so of all our louing déeds they make these lewd deuises: yea when we haue brought them vp with great care and cost, when we haue trauailed all our time by sea and by land, earely and late, in paine and in perrill, to heape vp treasure for them, when we haue by continuall toyle shortned our owne liues, to leng­then and inlarge their liuings and possessions, yet if we suffer them not to royst and to ryot, to spill and to spoyle, to lauish and to consume, yea and to follow the furie of their owne frantick fancies in all things, this forsooth is our re­compence, they wish an end of our liues, to haue our liuings.

Alas, a lamentable case, why hath not nature caused loue to ascend as well as descend? why hath she indued the Storke with this propertie, to féede his damme when she is old, and men with such malice to wish their parents death when they are aged? But I speake perchaunce of my owne pro­per griefe, God forbid it should be a common case: for my daughter (why doe I call her daughter) hath not onely wisht my death but wrought it. She knewe she was my onely de­light: she knewe I could not liue, she being out of my sight: she knew her desperate disobedience would driue me to a des­perate death. And could she now so much doate on a poore shep­heard, to force so little of her louing father? Alas a hus­band is to be preferred before Father and Friend▪ but had she none to fixe her fancie on but a Swaine, the sonne of I knowe not whome? Alas loue hath no resp [...] of persons: yet was not my good will and [...] to be craued therein? alas she sawe noe possibilitie to ob­taine it.

But now alas, I would grant my good will, but it is too [Page] late, her feare of my furie is too great euer to be found, her [...] is too great, euer to looke me in the face any more, and my sor­row is too great, euer to be salued. And thereupon got him to bed very heauilie affected, dayly bewayling the losse of his daughter Varrona, with whom I do now begin.

The Sunne soiourning in his winter mansion had disro­bed Arcadia of all her pleasures, and disgarnished Vestaes mantle of delights variable choice, wherewith Flora had in plentie powdred the freshnes of her earst gréene hue. Night suted in a duskie robe of pitchie darkenes, besieged the globe with long shadowes, while Phoebus wanting wonted vigour, did by darting his scarce reflected beames, affoord surall com­fort to the earths increase, so that Arcadia earst the soueraigne seate of all content, and sole place of worlds perfections, séemed now a patterne of the ancient Chaos, wherein all things (if things) were confounded. Fields flowerlesse, trées leauelesse, ground heatelesse, brookes streamelesse, springs vnhaunted, groues vnhalowed, augmented this hue of horrour, blemish of Europs paradice. The mayden huntresse Arcadiaes patro­nesse, did seldome trace the plaines guarded with her troupe of virgin knights, to fixe shafts on the flying beasts, whose wont was in time of heauens more milde aspect, to grace the fields with her daily presence, and when her brothers scorching heate tired her limbs with faintnes, to bath her chast bodie in some pleasant brooke. Nor did the wanton Satyres lightlie skipping on the painted meades, (painted I meane by natures worke­manship) vaunt their bodies agilitie to the fairie wood-Nymphs. Pan, Arcadiaes president, pend vp himselfe in his winter lodging, and the other rurall powers séeing their glo­ries date ended for that yéere, shrouded themselues in the place of their wonted repose. In this season, a season well fitting their melancholie thoughts distracted with moodie passions, Varrona and Lysimachus, the maps of fortunes mutabili­tie, left their countrie, wandred in middest of winters rage surcharged with sorrow, the extremitie whereof made them haplesse abiects, while rough Boreas winters henchman mus­tering [Page] legions of stormes, scourged the plaines with a trou [...]e of tempests, and aimed his violent blasts at the tallest trees to loy their heights pride, and combatting with his companions, filled the aire with dreadfull noyse of their tumultuous en­counter; these infortunate louers, in whose minds loue mar­tialled millions of striuing passions, thus wandring, whom fancie tost in a boundlesse Ocean of perplexing thoughts, cea­sed not their trauaile till the weathers intemperate furie cal­med by heauens milder influence, tooke truce with time, and sealed the attonement with a sodaine change. But when Phoebus renuing his yéerely taske, and denying longer resi­dence to stormie winter, had pierced earths entrailes with comfortable warmth, opening a frutefull passage for the issue of her wombe, to cloath Pomonaes branches with natures bountie, and diapre her owne mantle with Floraes sense-al­luring pomp; Lysimachus and Varrona entred the maine continent of Arcadia, where séeing the late hue of horrour turned to an heauen of eyes happines, they redoubled many sighes drawne from the depth of their wofull hearts centre: for remembring that Tellus was earst dismantled, the trees bereaued of their blossomes beautie, earths naturall defects anatomized by time, in the place where frostie Hyems had displaied her ycie trophies, they lamented to thinke that these tokens of worlds mutabilitie, had recouered their former flou­rish by the yéeres timely alteration, but their desperate for­tunes (as they imagined) had no hope of any happie spring to calme the winter of their woes. Drowned in these deepe me­ditations, they procéeded pensiue, but they had not walked farre, when they espied a faire broad Oake, whose spatious branches enuironed the ground lying vnderneath with a sha­die circle. There they determined to rest a while their bodies wearied by long iourneis, and somewhat disburthen their soules by displaying their sorrowes.

As thus they were discoursing of their fortunes, they beheld as they looked back an Arcadian, and by his habit seemed a Shepheard, who ouer-hearing the last words of their com­plaints, and aiming (though amisse) at the occasion of their sor­rowes, [Page] thought that being strangers he lamēted y ^e losse of their way, to which imaginatiō applying his words, he began thus.

Friends (for so I may tearme you without offence) the day is almost spent, and the night being dangerous for such as you are, or at least seeme to be, I meane strangers: accept then a simple lodging in my cottage, with such homely fare as Shepheards houses yeeld, and when to morrowes Sunne shal display his bright (though late forcelesse) beames, ye may pro­secute your intended iourney, wherein if my directions may further you, ye shall find me readie to affoord them. They won­dering at such rare humanitie harboured in those contemptible wéeds, made a lōg pause as if they had enioyned their mouthes to perpetuall silence, at last Lysimachus shapt him this replie.

Friend (for so your preffered courtesie bindes vs to tearme you) muse not that sobs interrupt my words, or sorrowes sea­son my discourse, which onely comfort my fates haue assigned me. What we were we list not now to repeate, what we are, you sée, we grieue: a lodging in your cottage we gladly accept: your countrie fare we wil thankfullie receiue; your directions wil be néedlesse, for we wander thus vp and downe to light on some cottage, where I and my wife, with this our seruant may dwell, for we purpose to buy some Farme, and a flock of shéep, to become shepheards, meaning to liue low, & content vs with a countrie life: for I haue heard some say that they drink with­out suspition, & sléepe without care. And if this double fauour do procéed frō you, then in requitall of your courtesie, first, we beséech Iupiter Xenius the patron of hospitalitie, and protec­tour of strangers, to blesse our labours, prosper our attempts, and enrich your store with hoped plentie: next, we vow by that bright lamp heauens ornament, that if fortune (as she is neuer stable) raise vs frō so low an ebbe to the wonted height of our good hap, we will remunerate your kindnes with most ample recompence. Alexis (such was the Shepheards name) séeing maiestie in their lookes, grauitie seated in disguise, royaltie su­ted in base attire, gathered by these probable coniectures, that they could be of no meane degrée; mooued therefore with a dée­per remorse, he courteouslie intreated them to repaire to his [Page] [...]mple lodging, and remaine there till fortune should conuert her frownes into fauours, protesting that though he could not entertaine them as the qualitie of their condition required, yet he would supplie in good will the disabling defects of his low e­state; and for the buying of a Farme (quoth he) ye come in good time, for my Landlord intends to sell both the Farme, hill, and the flocke I keepe, and cheape ye may haue them for readie mony: which wrought such chéerefulnes in their hearts, that they yéelded him millions of thanks, and accompanied him to his house. Into which when they entred, they found it not gor­geously embost, yet gailie trimmed: not courtlie, yet comely: though homely, yet handsome: and they were kindlie welco­med by Alexis wife, who gréeted them with a merrie counte­nance, being by her husband certified of their fortunes.

The next morne they lay long in bed, as wearied with the toile of vnaccustomed trauaile; but as soone as they got vp, they resolued there to set vp their rest, & by the help of Alexis, swapt a bargaine with his Landlord, and so became maisters of the Farme, & of the flock, her selfe putting on the attire of a Shep­herdesse, and Lysimachus of a yong swaine, both estéemed fa­mous amongst y ^e Shepheards of Arcadia. Liuing thus iointly together, they began to be as Ciceronicall, as they were amo­rous, with their hands thrift coueting to satisfie their hearts thirst, & to be as diligent in labours, as they were affectionate in loues, so that the parish wherein they liued so affected them for the course of their life, that they were counted the very mir­rours of a Democraticall methode. Liuing thus in a league of vnited vertues, fortune enuying their prosperitie, raised vp one Maechander to race & beate down if it were possible, the firme foundation of their faithfull building, and biding together.

For this Maechander glauncing his gazing eyes on the bla­zing beautie of Varrona, receiued so deepe an impression of her perfection in his heart, that immediately he fixed his fancie vpō her comely corps. And being the chief ruler of the citie, he perswaded himself that there was none in that town so stout, but would stoupe at his lure: nor any so faire, but would faine [Page] imploy thēselues to pleasure him: but one the other side, the re­nowned vertue of Varrona came to his mind, which perswa­ded an impossibilitie to his purpose: and floating thus betwéene hope and despaire, he entred into these tearmes.

O miserable wretch that I am, to whom shall I addresse my complaints? Is it the heauenly power & gods of loue that haue depriued me of my senses, & shewed their dunne working in me? Or is it the hellish hags, and spirits of spight, that bereaued me of reason, & executed their crueltie on me? Is it loue that lea­deth me to this lust? or is it hate y ^t haleth me to this hurt & mis­chiefe. No, no, the Gods guide vs to goodnes, the furies of hell they force vs to filthines: neither doth that any way deserue the name of loue, which bringeth such torment to my troubled minde, y ^t all the diuels in the world could not performe the like. But see my rashnes, why am I so blindly bold, beastly to blas­pheme against y ^t which proceeds altogether from nature, which nature hath imparted to all men, and which I ought to follow without repining or resisting? for so long as I follow nature as my guide, I cannot doe amisse, & séeing nature hath taught vs to loue, why should I not rather proue her precepts, then re­buke that which by natures lore is allowed? And touching tor­ment of mind, or other inconuenience that it bringeth, is it all able to impaire the least comfort which I shall enioy in em­bracing my Varrona? Is it not méete that he which would reape, should sowe, he that would gather frute, should plant trees, he that would reach the swéete rose, should now and then be scratched with the sharpe briers? I meane, is it méet, if I purpose to possesse so proper a peece as Varrona is, y ^t I should eschew labours, or refuse any perrill in the pursute thereof? And herevpon he determined to follow the furie of his fancie, what pangs or danger soeuer he thereby indured, & hauing resolued many waies in his mind how he might aspire to his purpose, at length he resolued vpon this, to institute a sumptuous banket: whereto he inuited the chiefe of the citie, amongst whom Lysi­machus & his wife Varrona were not forgotten, the onely au­thours of the feast. Now for the more [...]oyall receiuing of his [Page] guests, he met them at the entrie into his pallace, and gaue them this gréeting.

Faire Ladies, as I am right ioyfull of your presence, so am I no lesse sorrowfull for the paines you haue taken, in vnder­taking so great a iourny this darke and mistie euening, for the which I must account my selfe so much the more beholding to you, by how much greater your labour was in cōming, and by how much lesse your cheere shall be able to counteruaile it now you are come. And taking Varrona by the hand, he said softlie vnto her. I pittie the paines of these gentlewomen the lesse, for that you were in their company, whose piercing eyes, as celes­tiall starres, or heauenly lamps, might serue for [...]ights in the darke, whose sweete face might perfume the aire from all noy­some smells which might annoy them, & beholding your liuely looks, & perfect shape, they might take such delight, that the wea­rinesse of the way could nothing molest or grieue them. Varro­na hearing her selfe so greatly praised of so great a personage as he was, could not keepe the roses red out of her alablaster cheekes, & thinking no serpentine malice to lie hid vnder these m [...]rrie & sugred words, she gaue him this courteous answere. If sir the company had made no better prouision for lights, and other things necessarie, then such as you speake o [...], they might soone haue slipt into the mire: but as I perceiue by your words, you are disposed to iest, and be merrie, so I am content for this once to be made the instrument thereof, thereby to ease some part of the paines which you are like to take in receiuing such troublesome guests as we are: and for our cheere you neede take no thought, for it shall be so much too good for vs, by how much lesse we haue deserued any at all your hands. After this amorous encounter, he caused the company to sit downe to the banquet, and so disposed the matter that Varrona sat at the ta­ble right ouer against him, whereby he freely [...]ed his eyes on that meat which cōuerted rather to the norishment of sicknes, then to wholesome humors of health. For as the finest meats, by one in extremitie of sicknes, resolue not to pare blood, to strengthen the bodie, but to watrish humours to feed the leuer [Page] and disease, so though her face and lookes were fine and swéet, and brought delight to all the beholders eies, yet to him they wrought onely torment & vexation of mind. And notwithstan­ding he perceiued her beauty to bréed his bane, and her lokes to procure the losse of his libertie, & that as the Cocatrice by sight only slaieth, so she by curteous countenance only killed & woun­ded his heart, yet would he not refraine his eyes from behol­ding hir, but according to the nature of the sickly patient, which chiefly desireth that which most of all is forbidden him, he so in­cessantly threw his passionate glaunces towards her, that his eyes were altogether bleared with her beautie, and she also at the length began to perceiue his louing looks towards her, which made her looke pale, in token of the little pleasure she tooke in his toyes, & of the great feare she had least some other shuld mark them, wherby her good name might come in questi­on. The banquet being ended, euery one of thē prepared them­selues to heare a stage play, which was thē readie to be perfor­med: But Maechander being able to play but one part, which was of a poore distracted louer, determined to goe forward with the tragedie alreadie begun betwéene Varrona and him, and séeing her set out of her husbands sight, placed himselfe by her, and entered into reasoning with her, to this purpose.

If (faire Varrona) this simple banquet had bene so swéet and pleasant to your séemely selfe and the rest, as your sight is de­lightfull to me, I am perswaded you would not haue changed your chéer for Nectar and Ambrosia, which the Poets faine to be foode of the gods, but séeing there was no cause of delight in the one, & the other containeth that in it which may cōtent the Gods thēselues, I shal desire you in good part to accept the one, and courteously to accept me worthy to enioy the other. And though I haue not heretofore by dutifull seruice manifested vn­to you the loyaltie of my loue, yet if my poore hart could signifie vnto you the assaults which it hath suffered for your sake, I doubt not but that you would confesse, that by force of loue I had woon you, & were worthy to weare you. For albeit by hu­mane lawes your husband onely hath interest in you, yet by [Page] natures lawes, which being more ancient, ought to be of more authoritie, he ought to enioy you, which ioyeth most in you: which loueth you best, & endureth most paine for your sake. And for proofe of natures lawes, may it please you to consider the qualitie of the she wolfe, who alwaies chooseth that wolfe for her make, who is made most leane and foule by following her: be­sides that, my tytle marcheth vnder the ensign of iustice, which is a vertue: giuing to euery one according to his deserts: & that the reward of loue, is onely loue againe, I know you are not ig­norant. For all the Gods in the world are not able to requite good will, the one belonging to the mind, the other incident to the bodie: but from the equitie of my cause I appeale to your good grace & fauour: and at the barre of your beautie, I hum­bly hold vp my hands, meaning to be tryed by your owne courtesie, & my owne loyaltie, & minding to abide your sentence either of cōsent vnto life, or denial vnto death. Varrona hearing this discourse, looked one while read for shame, another while pale for anger: neither would disdain let her make him answer, nor grief giue her leaue to hold her peace: but stāding in a maze, betwéene silence and speaking, at length she brake of the one, and burst out into the other in this sort.

If (sir) your banquet had bene no better, then this your talke is pleasant vnto me, I am perswaded the dishes would haue bene taken whole from the table without touching: but as the one was far better thē the company deserued, so the other, for a far worse woman might more fitly haue séemed: & if your sweet meat haue such sower sawce, the next time you send for me I will make you such an answere as was made to Craterus the Emperour by Diogenes, when he sent for him to make his a­bode with him in his court: who answered, he had rather be fed at Athens with salt, then to liue with him in all delicacie: so for my part, I promise you. I had rather be fed at home w ^t bread & water, thē pay so déerly for dainty dishes. Touching the paines you haue endured for my sake, I take your words to be as false towards me, as you wold make my faith towards my husbād: But admit they were true, séeing I haue not bin y ^e cause of thē, [Page] I count not my selfe bound in conscience to counteruaile them, only I am sory they were not bestowed on some more worthie your estate, and lesse worthie an honest name then my selfe▪ which being the chiefe riches I haue, I meane most diligently to keepe. The interest which cauellingly you claime in me, as it consisteth of false premises, so though they were true, yet the conclusion which you infer thereof followeth not necessarilie. For were it so that your loue were greater towards me then my husbands (which you cannot induce me to beléeue) yet sée­ing he by order of lawe hath first taken possession of me, your title succeeding his, your succession & sute must néeds be cold & naught: for as your selfe saith of lawes so of titles, the first are euer of most force, and the most ancient of most authoritie. Your woluish example though it shew your foxely braine, yet doth it in force no such proofe to your purpose, but that by my former reason it may be refelled, for that the wolfe is free from the proper possession of any: but therein truly you obserue de­corum ▪ in vsing the example of a beast in so brutish a cause: for like purpose like proofe: like man like matter.

Your manly marching vnder the ensigne of iustice, if reason be your Captaine generall to leade you, I doubt not but soone to turne to a retire: for if it be good will which you beare me, I must néedes grant you duly deserue the like againe, but when you are able to prooue it good will to deflowre my chastitie, to bereaue me of my good name, to dispoile me of my honour, to cause me to transgresse the bonds of honestie, to infringe my faith towards my husband, to violate the sacred rites of Ma­trimonie, with other innumerable enormities, when I say you are able to prooue these to proceede from affection, then will I willingly yéeld consent to your request. But sée the vn­reasonablenes of your suite, would you haue me in shewing courtesie towards you, commit crueltie towards my selfe? Should I in extending mercie to you, bring my selfe to mise­rie? Should I place you in pleasure, and displace my selfe of all ioy? For what solace can a woman purchase, hauing lost her chastitie, which ought to be the ioy, i [...]well, and ien [...]me of all [Page] Gentlewomen of what calling and countenance soeuer? Your appeale from your owne cause to my courtesie, bewrayeth the naughtinesse thereof: for if it be not ill, why stick you not too it? if it be good, why appeale you from it? But séeing you haue constituted me iudge in this case, you know it is not the part of a iudge to deale partially, or to respect the man more then the matter, or to tender more my owne case then your cause: therefore indifferently this sentence definitiue I giue, I con­demne you henceforth to perpetuall silence in this suite, and that you neuer hereafter open your mouth herein, being a matter most vnséemely for your honour, and most preiudiciall to my honestie: and in abiding this sentence (if you can be cō ­tent with honest amitie) for the courtesie which I haue found at your hands, and for the good wil which you pretend to beare me, I promise you, you shal enioy the second place in my heart, and you shall finde me friendly in all things, which either you with reason can aske, or I with honestie grant. Maechander hauing heard this angell thus amiably pronouncing these words, was so rapt in admiration of her wisedome, and raui­shed in contemplation of her beautie, that though she had not inioyned him to silence, yet had he not had a word to say: and least his lookes might bewray his loue, and his countenance discouer his case, he secretly and sodainely withdrew himselfe into his chamber, to studie what face to set on the matter: and casting himselfe vpon the bed, after he had dreamed a while vpon his doating deuises, at length he awaked out of his wauering thoughts, and recouering the possession of his sen­ses againe, he sung this mournefull Dittie.

By this time the Play was ended, and his guests readie to depart, whereupon he was driuen to come forth of his chamber, to take leaue of them: and bidding his mistres good night, he gaue her such a looke, that his very eyes séemed to pleade for pittie: so that what his tongue durst not, his eyes did. His guests being gone, he disposed himselfe to rest, but loue willed him otherwise to employ that night, which was in examining particularly euery point of her answere. And though the first part séemed somewhat sharp and rigorous, and the second conteined the confutation of his cause, yet the third and last part seemed to be mixt with mettall of more milde matter, which he repeated to himselfe a thousand times, and thereupon, as vpon a firme foundation, determined to raise vp his building againe, which the two former parts of her answere had vtterlie ransackt to the ground. But mista­king the nature of the soyle whereon the foundation was laid, his fabrike (as if it had béen set in the sand) soone came to ruine: for by that promise of friendship, which she kindlie made him, he sinisterly conceiued hope of obteining that, which she neither with honour could promise, nor with hone­stie performe: and feeding himselfe with that vaine hope, in great brauerie, as in a manner assured of the victorie, he wrote vnto her to this effect.

Varrona hauing receiued and read this letter, was as­sayled diversly: sometimes with sorrow, in thinking on the time she first saw him, or he her: sometimes with repentance of her former promise made him: sometime with pittie on his part: [Page] [...] with pitie on her owne: but at length pittie van­quished pittie, and caused her to send this rough replie to his letter.

Maechander hauing sinne this rigorous resolution of his mistresse, went another way to worke, he subdr [...]ed [...]n old wo­man of the citie, wel seene in soliciting such sutes, to go [...] her and present her from him with many rich iewell [...], all which (he wiled her to tell) he would willingly bestow for one simple consent of her good will. The old woman [...] would haue said) hauing done his shameful message, said [...] selfe in this sort.

Surely mistresse Varrona, if the experience which old yeares haue giuen me, might craue credit for the counsail [...] which I shall giue you, I would not wish you to [...] the [...] such a one as is Maechander, [...] pearles, and fulfill you with pleasures euery way: Neither is it wisedome for you to spend your golden yeares, but in a golden pleasure, and not to be tied to one [...] which bringeth [...] [Page] and loath [...]mnesse, but [...]o haue choice of change which bringeth appetite and lustinesse.

The chast eares of Varrona not able to endure this base dis­course, she cut of her ghostly counsel with these inuectiue words. Gentlewoman if you were endued with as many good conditi­ons as you haue liued yeares, you would neuer haue vnder­taken so shamefull a message: and were it not more for re­uerence of your yeares, then in respect of your errand, I would make your filthie trade of life so famous, that you should euer hereafter be ashamed to shew your face in any honest companie. What doe you thinke, though mony can make you a bawd, that it can make me an harlot? and though you for gaine flée no filthynesse, that I for glorie follow no faithfulnesse either towards my spouse and husband, or to­wards my Lord and God? Doe you iudge me so couetous of coine, or so prodigal of my honour, that to get the one, I wil lose the other? Or doth he that sent you thinke so obiectlie of me, that gaine may more preuaile with me then good will, mony more then a man, iewells more then gentlenesse, pearles more then troubles which he hath endured for my sake? No let him vnderstand, if any thing could haue caused me to swarue from my duetie, loue not lure should haue allured me theretoo. But as I am fully resolued, faithfully to keepe my vowe, and promise made to my husband, so I beséech him not to bestow any more labour in attempting that, vnto which he shal neuer attaine: for before this my resolution shall be re­uersed, he shall see the dissolution of my bodie into dust. But if he will not thus giue ouer his sute, he will cause me to make those priuie to his dealings, who will make him asha­med of them: and for your part, packe you hence with this your trumperie, to those which measure their honour by the price of profit, and their glorie by the guerdon of gaine. This good old subaudi gentlewoman being gone away with a flea in her eare, Varrona began to thinke on the matter with aduised deliberation, and entered into reasoning with her selfe in this sort.

[Page]What fearefull follie is this in me to contemne the friend­ship of so great a Lord, whom the brauest Ladie in this land would willingly receiue for husband, and I rigorouslie refuse for seruant? What is that honour whereupon I stand so stiffely? Shall it not rather increase my dignitie, to haue so noble a seruant? And what is that chastitie which I séeke so charily so kéepe? Do not some men say, that women alwayes liue chastly ynough, so that they liue charily ynough? that is, so that they conueigh their matters so couertly, that their do­ings be not commonly knowne: for otherwise to incontinencie were added impudencie; likewise for a woman to enter in conuersation with a rascall of no reputation, cannot be but a great blemish to the brightnesse of her name: for a foule adul­terer, is euer worse then adulterie it selfe. And is it not a great signe she loatheth her husband, when she liketh one better, which is euery way worse? But to haue a friend of reserua­tion whose very countenance may credit her husband, me­thinks cannot be no great dishonour, either to the one, or to the other. What discredit was it to Helen, when she left her husband Menelaus and went with Paris to Troy? did not the whole glorie of Greece to her great glorie goe in armes to fetch her againe? And if she had not béen counted a péece of price, or if by that fact she had defaced her honour, is it to be thought the Graecians would haue continued tenne yeeres in warre continually to win her againe? But to leaue honour and chastitie, and come to commoditie and safetie, what do I know what perils will follow of this repulse? Is it likely Maechander will put vp this reproch patiently? May I not iustly looke to haue his loue turned to hate, and that he will either by tyrannous meanes séeke the subuersion of my hus­band, or by treacherous designements worke the ouerthrow of me, and my good name? For the first, Edward a King of England may serue for an example, who when the Countesse of Salisbury would not consent to content his incontinent de­sire, he so raged against her parents and friends, as that the father was forced to perswade his owne daughter to folly, and [Page] the mother as a bawde to prostitute her to the Kings lust, and bring her to his priuie chamber. For the second, the Earle of Pancaliar may serue for testimonie, who when the Dutchesse of Sauoy would not yéeld to his lasciuious lust, wrought such wiles, that she was condemned for adulterie, and iudged to suffer most shamefull death by burning. Now to preuent ei­ther of these perils, it lieth in my power: and séeing of euils the least is to be chosen, I thinke it better then to hazard life, liuing, or good name, to loose that which shall be no great losse to my husband or my selfe: for as the Sunne though it shine on vs here in Arcadia, yet it giueth light likewise to those which are in England, and other places, so is there that in me where­with Lysimachus may be satisfied, and Maechander sufficed. And this encourageth me thereto the rather, for that I see by experience in most of my neighbours, that those are euer most made of, who that way deale most falsely with their husbands. Besides that, how openly soeuer they deale in these affaires, their husbands neuer heare of it: and though they do, yet will they not hearken vnto it: and albeit they do in a manner sée it, yet will they not beléeue it: and though thereto they giue cre­dance, yet will they loue them the better, to haue them leaue it the sooner. Againe, what know I whether my husband deales falsely with me, and rowe in some other streame, which if it be so, I shall but saue his soule in paying his debts, and exercise the vertue of iustice in requiting like for like. And touching the corruption of my bloud, I thinke it made more noble, in participating with one of more dignitie then is my husband. But canst thou harlot call him husband whom thou meanest so wickedly to betray? Am I in my wits to vse these senselesse words? Is it my mouth that hath vttered this blasphemie? or was it the Diuell within me that deliuered it foorth? No if I were guiltie but in thought hereto, I would restore the fault with criminall pennance: yea if I felt any part in me apt to any such euill, I would cut it off, for feare of infecting the rest of the body. Good God whither now is honour fled, which was euer wont to be the fairest flower in my garland? whither now [Page] is chastitie banished, which hath béen alwaies the chiefest stay of my state? shall the sunne of my shining life be now eclipsed with an act [...]o filthie, that the very remembrance thereof is no lesse grieuous then death? Why was Helen for all her heauēly how any other accounted then a common harlot? and was it not onely to be reuenged on her, and on her champion Paris that the Grecians continued their siege so long? And touching the inconueniences which may incurre by this refusall, is any euill worse then dishonestie? Is there any thing to be feared more then offence? Is not the lesse of goods lesse then of ones good name? Is not an honorable death to be preferred before an infamous life? And touching the Countesse before rehear­sed, had she euer married with the King if she had not cōtinued in her constancie to the end? And for the Dutchesse of Sauoy, what hurt susteined she by that false accusation? did it not make her glorie and vertue shew more splendentlie to the view of the whole world? yes no doubt of it.

For like as streames the more you hinder their current, the greater is the deluge, or as the hearb Camomtle, the more it is suppressed, the more it spreadeth abroade: euen so vertue and honestie, the more they are wronged with enuie, the more they eleuate and extend their flourish: for honour euermore is the reward of vertue, and doth accompany it as duly as the shadow doth the body. And as the Sunne though it be vnder a cloude kéepeth still his brightnesse, albeit by vs it cannot be discerned: so vertue though it be darkened with diuelish deui­ses, yet it reserueth her power and vigour still, though to vs it séeme vtterly to be extinguished: so that so long as I remem­ber vertue and honestie, I néede not care what man, what malice, or the diuell can deuise against me. No, no, swéete hus­band, I will not make thée ashamed to shew thy face amongst the best of them: and I will let thee vnderstand the villanie which that viper Maechander indeuoureth to do thee. And shall I deale so fondly indéede? Is not the repulse punishment ynough, vnlesse I bewray his doings to Lysimachus, and so procure him further displeasure? yea, I might thereby be oc­casion [Page] to set them together by the eares, whereby it might fall out (as the euent of battaile is alwayes doubtfull) that my hus­band might be hurt, or slaine, and the common report would be (as the people are euer prone to speake the wrost) that I, being an ill woman, had conspired his confusion and set Mae­chander to sley him. And though no such thing chaunced (as God forbid it should) yet this at least I should be sure to get by it, that my husband euer after would be iealous ouer me, and right carefull would he be to keepe that which he sawe others so busily to séeke. And (such is the malice of men) perchance he would iudge some light behauiour in me to be the cause that encouraged Maechander to attempt my chas [...]itie. For men haue this common opinion amongst them, that as there is no smoake but where there is fire, so sieldome is there any ser­uent loue, but where there hath béen some kindnes shewed to kindle ones desire. Moreouer, this toy may take him in the head, that it is a practise betwéene vs two to preuent suspition, and cloake our loue: and with the firme perswasion of my in­uincible chastitie, to lull him a sléepe in securitie, and then most to deceiue him, when he least suspected guile. And if at any time he heare of it by others, I may stop his mouth with this, that I my selfe told him of it, which if I had meant to deale falsely with him, I would not haue done. Yea what know I whether he will like the better or worse of me, for bréeding such a bées nest in his braine? Lastly, I should derogate much from my owne chastitie, and in a manner accuse my selfe of pronenesse to fall that way, as though I were not strong ynough to withstand his assaults without the assistance of my husband. Yes God, in whom I repose my trust, shall fortifie me against the furie of my foes, and giue me grace with wise­dome to escape his wiles, with charinesse to eschew his charmes, and with pietie to resist his prauitie.

Now to returne to Maechander: so soone as that old bawde had related vnto him at large the answere of his mistres, he fell from the place where he sate, flat vpon the groued, and lay in a traunce a great while: and now those sparkes which before loue had kindled in him, were with continuall [Page] sighes so blowne, as it were with a paire of bellowes, that they brake forth into fierie flames, & that which before was fancie, was now turned into turie. For being come to himselfe, or ra­ther being quite past himselfe, with staring lookes, pale counte­nance, with fier [...]e eyes with gnashing téeth, with trembling tongue, in rage he roared forth these words. And shall I thus be frustrate of my desire? shall I with words and workes, with prayers and presents, pursue the good will of a daintie disdai­ning dame, and receiue but labor for my loue, and gréefe for my affection? But oh franticke foole, why doe I in a furie rage a­gainst her, who is the most faire and courteous creature vnder heauen? No, it is that churle Lysimachus that soweth the séed of my sorrow, it is his seueritie towards her, that causeth her crueltie towards me, the feare which she hath of him, is the cause, she dareth not take compassion on my afflictions. And shall be swim in blisse, and I lie drencht in deepe dispaire? shall he be ingorged with pleasure, and I pine away in paine? No I will make him féele that once, which he maketh me feele a­thousand times a day. And herevpon determined with him­selfe by some meanes or other, to procure the death of Lysima­chus, thinking thereby the sooner to obtaine his purpose of his wife. And calling vnto him one of his swearing swash-buckler seruants, he layde before him the platforme of his purpose, and told him plainly if he would spéedily dispatch Lysimachus out of the way, he would giue him a thousand crowns in his purse, to kéepe him in another country. His seruant though altogether past grace, yet for fashion sake began to aduise his master more wisely, saying.

For my owne part it maketh no matter, for an other coun­trie is as good for me as this, and I count any place my country where I may liue well and wealthily: But for your selfe, it is requisite that extraordinary care be added, in regarde that your loue towards Varrona is kowne to diuers of this cittie, by reason wherof, if I should cōmit any such fact, it must néeds be thought that you are accessarie thereto, which will turne, though not to your death, (for that none hath authoritie aboue [Page] you to execute the rigour of the lawes vpon you) yet to your vtter shame and reproach it cannot but conuert. Tush (said his maister) the case is light where counsaile can take place: what talkest thou to me of shame, that am by imurious and spite­full dealing depriued of the vse of reason, and dispossessed of my wits and senses. Neither am I the first that haue played the like part. Did not Dauid the chosen seruant of God, being blasted with the beautie of Bersheba, cause her hus­band Vrias to be set in the vanward to be slaine, which done he maried his wife? And why is it not lawfull for me to doe the like? But I know the worst of it, if then wilt not take it vp­on thée, I will either performe it my selfe, or procure some other that shall. The man séeing how his maister was bent, both to satisfie his mind, and to gaine so great a summe of mo­ny, consented assoone as opportunitie would giue him leaue to murther Lysimachus: wherewith Maechander remay­ned somewhat appeased, hoping now to be inuested into the throne of his delights. But the ground of this vnnaturall de­uise was most strangely detected. For all their consultations were ouerheard by Conscionato, an other of Maechanders men, but more religiously addicted, being then resident in a chamber néere adio [...]ning vnto that place wherein those things were thus debated. He vtterly condemning his maisters too much luxurious thoughts, and greatly misliking his fellowes impudent promise, but especially affecting Lysimachus as a man in whom the true sparkes of vertue were eminent, made manifest incontinently the whole conspiracie, which Mae­chander for the loue of his wife had deuised against him, desi­ring him not to account him a traytor for bewraying his mai­sters counsel, but to thinke that he did it for conscience: hoping that although his maister inflamed with desire, or incensed by lust, had imagined such causelesse mischiefe, yet when time should asswage his desires, and moderate his affections, that then he would count him as a faithfull seruant, that with such care had kept his maisters credit.

[Page] Lysimachus had not fully heard the man tell forth his tale, but a quaking feare possessed al his limunes, thinking that there was some plot wrought, and that the fellow did but shadowe his craft with these false colours; wherefore he began to wax in choller, and said that he doubted not Maechander, sith he was his friend, and there h [...]d neuer as yet bene any breach of amitie: he had not sought any wayes to wrong him, with slaunderous spéeches to offend him, by sinister reports to molest his patience: but in word and thought he rested his at all times: he knews not therefore any cause that should moue Maechander to seeke his death, but suspected it to be a com­pacted kna [...]rie of some, to bring the gentlewoman and him at oddes. Conscionato staying him in the middest of his talke, told him, that to dallie with suspected friends, was with the Swans to sing against their death: and that if some had inten­ded any such secret mischiefe, it might haue [...] better brought to passe, then by [...] the conspiracie: therefore he did ill to misconsture of his good meaning, [...] his intent was to hinder murther, not to become a murderer: and to cō ­firme his promise, if it pleased him with his wife to fl [...] out of Arcadia for the safegard of his life, he would goe with him, and if then he found not such a practise to be pretended, let his ima­gined treacherie be repayed with most monstrous torments. Lysimachus hearing the solemne protestation of the seruant, attributed credit thereto, willing him to abide at his house a day or two, that thereby the man which should accomplish this stratageme being discouered, he might with more securitie a­uoide the ensuing danger. Now when the [...] was growne by many houres aged, Conscionato who had giuen Lysima­chus to vnderstand of this intended purpose might espy where his fellow Christophero do mala mente came posting to his house amaine, which thing after Lysimachus had knowne, ai­ming himselfe for the purpose, as hauing a sword obscured by the couerture of his cloake, walked downe a groue which Christophero perceiuing, and séeing none néer for his succour, with his cutlax violently rushed vpon him: but Lysimachus [Page] hauing euermore an eye vpon him, with facilitie auoided the blowe, and with such courage threw him to the ground, fal­ling vpō his chest with so willing a waight, that Christophero yéelded nature her one, and Lysimachus the victorie.

He forthwith informed the chiefe officers of the cittie of these accidents, who examining very effectually the matter, found Maechander a duating leacher, wherupon they not only amer­sed him a great fine to be paid to Lysimachus and Varrona, but put him for euer after from bearing any office in that cittie. Thus where these two louers deliuered from their enemies, and reckoned now famous for their vertues through all Arcadia. This strange euent spread abroade through all the countrie, and as same flies swift and farre, so at length it came to the eares of Syllanus, who hearing by sundry reports the same of their forwardnesse, how Lysimachus coueted to be most louing to his daughter, and she most dutifull to him, and both to striue to exceed one another in loyaltie, and glad at this mutuall agreement, he fell from the furie of his former melancholy passion, and satisfied him­selfe with a contented patience, that at last he directed letters to his sonne in law, that he should make repaire to his house with his daughter. Which newes was no sooner come to the eares of this married couple, but prouiding for all things neces­sarie for the furniture of their voiage, they posted as fast as they could to the sea coast. Where taking shippe, and hauing a prosperous gale, in a day and a night they were set on shore in Thessalia: who spéedily arri [...]ing at their fathers house, found such friendly entertainment at the old mans hand, that they counted this smile of fortune able to counteruaile all the contrarie stormes that the aduerse Planets had inflicted vpon them.

Syllanus for y ^e safe recouery of his daughter, surprised with exceeding great ioy, wait the last end of his liues legēd. Lysima­chus after the death of his father in lawe was created Duke of Hypatae, and being willing to recompence old Procyon, of a shepheard made him a knight. Toxeus was preferred [Page] into the kings seruice, being substituted Captain of his guard: and because I will not blot from your thoughts the remem­brance of all those actions, Conscioanato by act of parliament was made Barō of Cypera, & their farme in Arcadia made sure to Alexis, Et haeredibussuis in perpetuū. These two louers thus floating in the top of louers gallantise, transtreated the sea of their life in so peaceable a calme, turning all their actions with the swéet consents of mutuall amitie, that they were accounted the onely presidents of married gouernment. What should I say? they liued a mirrour to men, a wonder to women, and a maze to all, which when it changeth expect for newes. Now to close vp this comicall Catastrophe with a tragicall strata­geme, I will relate vnto you the historie of Valintine, brother to Lysimachus, and the fortunes of those two suborned vil­laines, as in the beginning hereof I promised.