EVphues hauing gotten all thinges ne­cessarie for his voyage into England, ac­companied onelye with Philautus, tooke shipping the first of December 1579. by our English Computation: Who as one resolued to sée that with his eyes, which he had oftentimes heard with his eares, beganne to vse this perswasion with his friende Philautus, aswell to counsell him how hée shoulde behaue himselfe in Eng­land, as to comfort him being n [...]we on the Seas.

As I haue sound thée willing to be a fellowe in my trauaile, so woulde I haue thee ready to be a follower of my counsaile: in the one shalt thou shewe thy good wil, in the other manifest thy wisedome. We are nowe say­ling into an Iland, of small compasse, as I gesse by their Maps, but of great ciuilitie, as I heare by their matters, which if it be so, it behooueth vs to be more inq [...]isttiue of their conditions, then of their countrey, [...] more dare­full to marke the natures of their men, then curiou [...] to note the situation of the place. And surely me thinketh we cannot better bestowe our time on the Sea, then in aduice how to behaue our selues when we come to the shore: for greater daunger is there to ariue in a straunge countrey where the inhabitauntes be politique, then to be tossed with the troublesome waues, where the Marri­ners be vnskilfull. Fortune guideth men in the rough Sea, but wisdome ruleth them in a straunge land.

If trauailers in this our age were as warie of their conditions, as they be venterous of their bodyes, or an willinge to reape pros [...]te by their pai [...]e [...], as they are to endure peril for their pleasure, they would either pre­fer [Page] their own soyle before a straunge land, or good coun­sell before their owne conceite. But as the young schol­ler in Athens went to heare Demosthenes eloquence at Corinth, and was entangled with Lais beautie, so most of our trauailers which pretende to gette a smacke of straunge language to sharpen their wittes, are infected with vanitie by following their wils. Daunger and de­light grow both vpon one stalke, the Rose and the Can­ker in one bud, white and blacke are commonly in one border. Seing then my good Philautus, that we are not to conquer wild beasts by fight, but to confer with wise mē by policie: we ought to take greater héede that we be not entrapped in folly, then feare to be subdued by force. And héere by the way it shall not be amisse, aswell to driue a­way the tediousnes of time, as to delight our selues with talke, to rehearse an old treatise of an auncient Hermit, who méeting with a Pilgrime at his Cell, vttered a straunge and delightfull tale, which if thou Philautus art disposed to heare, and these present attentiue to haue, I will spend some time about it, knowing it both fit for vs that be trauailers to learne witte, and not vnfit for these that be Merchaunts to get wealth.

Philautus although the stumpes of loue so sticked in his minde, that he rather wished to heare an Eelegie in Ouid, then a tale of an Hermit: yet was he willing to lend his care to his friende, who had left his heart with his Lady, for you shal vnderstand that Philautus hauing read the cooling Carde which Euphues sent him, sought rather to aunswere it, then allowe it. And I doubt not but if Philautus fall into his olde vaine in England, you shall heare of his newe deuice in Italy. And although some shall think it impertinent to the historie, they shall not finde it repugnant, no more then in one nosegay to sette two flowers, or in one counterfait two coulours, which bringeth more delight then disliking.

Philautus aunswered Euphues in this manner.

[Page 2] MY good Euphues, I am as willing to heare thy tale, as I am to bée pertaker of thy trauaile, yet I knowe not how it commeth to passe, that my eyes are eyther heauie against foule weather, or my heade so drowsie against some ill newes, that this tale shall come in good time to bring me a sléepe, and then shal I get no harme by the Hermit, though I get no good, the other that were then in the shippe, flocked about Euphues, who be­ganne in this manner.

THere dwell some-times in the Iland Scyrum, an aun­cient Gentleman called Cassander, who aswel by his being a long gatherer, as his trade being a lewd vsurer, wared so welthy, that he was thought to haue almost al the money in that countrey in his owne coffers, beeing both aged and sickly, found such weaknesse in him-selfe, that he thought nature would yéelde to death, and phi­sicke to his diseases▪ This Gentleman had one onelye sonne, who nothing resembled the father either in fancie or fauour, which the olde man perceiuing, disse [...]ilised with him both in nature and honestie, whom he caused to be called vnto his bedsid, and the chamber being boy­ded, he brake with him in these tearmes.

Callimachus (for so was hée called) thou art too young to dye, and I too olde to liue: yet as nature must of necessitie pay hir debt to death▪ so must she also shew hir deuotion to thée, whom I a-liue had to be y ^e com­forte of myne age, and whome alone I must leaue be­hynde mee, for to bée the onelye maintayner of all myne honour. If thou couldest aswell conceiue the care of a father, as I canne leuell at the nature of a childe, or wer I as able to vtter my affection towards a sonne as thou oughtest to shew thy duty to thy [...]ire, thē woul­dest thou desire my lyfe to enioy my counsell, and I [Page] shoulde correct thy life to amende thy conditions: yet so tempered, as neither rigor might detract any thing from affection in me, or feare any whit from thée, in duty. But séeing my self so feeble that I cannot liue to be thy guid, I am resolued to giue thée such counsell as may do thée good, wherein I shall shewe my care, and discharge my duetie.

My good Sonne, thou art to receiue by my death, wealth, and by my counsel wisdome, and I woulde thou wert as willing to imprint the one in thy heart, as thou wilt be readie to beare the other in thy purse: To bée rich is the gift of Fortune, to be wise the grace of God. Haue more minde on thy bookes then thy bags, more de­sire of godlinesse then gold, greater affection to dye wel, then to liue wantonly.

But as the Cypresse trée, the more it is watered, the more it withereth, and the oftner it is lopped, the sooner it dyeth: so vnbrideled youth, the more it is also by graue aduice counselled, or due correction controlled, the sooner it falleth to confusion, hating all reasons that woulde bring it from folly, as that trée doth all remedies, that should make it fertile.

Alas Callimachus, when wealth commeth into the handes of youth before they can vse it, then fall they to all disorder that may be, tedding that with a fork in one yeare, which was not gathered together with a rake in twentie.

But why discourse I with thée of worldly affayres, being my selfe going to heauen, héere Callimachus take the key of yonder great barred chest, where thou shalt finde such store of wealth, that if thou vse it with discre­tion, thou shalt become the only rich man of the world. Thus turning him on the left side, with a déepe sigh and pitifull grone gaue vp the ghoast.

Callimachus hauing more minde to looke to the locke, then for a shrowdinge shéete, the breath béeing scarse [Page 8] out of his fathers mouth, and his body yet panting with heate, opened the Chest, where he found nothing but a letter written very fayre, sealed vp with his Signet of armes, with this superscription.

¶ In finding nothing, thou shalt gaine all things.

Callimachus, although he were abashed at the fight of the emptie Chest, yet hoping this letter would direct him to the golden Myne, he boldlye opened it, the contents whereoff followed in these termes.

WIsedome is great wealth. Sparing is good getting. Thrift confisteth not in golde, but grace. It is bet­ter to dye with-out money, then to lyue with-out mo­destie. Put no more clothes on thy backe, then will ex­pe [...] colde: neither any more meat in thy belly, then may quench hunger. Use not channge in attire, nor varietie in thy dyet: the one bringeth pride, the other surfets. Ech vayne, voyd of pietie: both costly, wide of profit.

Go to bed with the Lambe, and rise with the Larke: Late watching in the night, bréedeth vnquyet: and long sleeping in the daye vngodlinesse: Flye both: this, as vn­wholesome: that as vnhonest.

Enter not into bandes, no not for thy best friends: he that payeth an other mans debt, séeketh his owne decay, it is as rare to sée a rich Suretie, as a black Swan, and he that lendeth to all that wil borow, sheweth great good will, but little wit. Lend not a penny without a pawne, for that will be a good gage to borow. Be not hastie to marry, it is better to haue one plough going, then two cradells: and more profite to haue a barne filled, then a bedde. But if thou canst not lyue chastly, chuse such an one, as may be more commended for humilitie, then beau­tie. A good huswife is a great patrimonie: & she is most honourable, that is most honest. If thou desire to be olde, [Page] beware of too much wine: If to be healthy take héed [...] of many women: If to be rich, shun playing at all games. Long quaffing, maketh a short lyfe: Fonde lust, causeth drye bones: and lewd pastimes, naked pursses. Let the Cooke be thy Phisition, and the shambles thy Apotheca­ries shop: He that for euery qualme wil take a Receipt, and cannot make two meales, vnlesse Galen be his Gods good: shall be sure to make the Phisition rich, & himselfe a begger, his body will neuer be without diseases, & his pursse euer with-out money.

Be not too lauish in giuing almes, the charitie of this Countrey, is, God helpe thée: and the courtesie, I haue the best wine in towne for you.

Liue in the countrey, not in the Court, where neither grasse will grow, nor Mosse cleaue to thy heeles.

Thus hast thou if thou canst vse it, the whole wealth of the world, and he that cannot follow good counsel, ne­uer can get commoditie. I leaue thée more, then my fa­ther left me, for he dying gaue me great wealth, with­out care how I might kéepe it, & I giue thée good coun­sell, with all meanes how to get riches. And no doubt, what so is gotten with wit, wil be kept with warinesse, and encreased with wisedome.

God blesse thée, and I blesse thée: and as I tender thy safetie, so God deale with my soule.

Callimachus was stroken into such a maze at this his fathers last Wil, that he had almost lost his former wit: And being in an extreame rage, renting his clothes and tearing his haire, began to vtter these wordes.

IS this the Nature of a father to deceiue his sonne, or y ^e part of crabbed age to delude credulous youth? Is the death bed, which ought to be y ^e ende of deuotion, become the beginning of deceipt? Ah Cassander, friend I cannot terme thée, séeing thee so vnkinde, and Father I [Page 4] will not call thée, whom I finde so vnnaturall.

Who so shall heare of this vngratefulnesse wil rather lament thy dealyng then thy death, and meruaile that a man affected outwardly with such great grauitie, should inwardly be infected w ^t so great guile. Shal I then shew the dutie of a childe, when thou hast forgotten the Na­ture of a Father? No, no, for as the Torch turned down­ward is extinguished with the selfe same waxe, which was the cause of his lyght: so Nature tourned to vn­kindenesse, is quenched by those meanes it should be kin­deled, leauing no braunch of loue, where it found no roote of humanitie.

Thou hast caryed to thy graue more gray haires, thā yeares: and yet more yeares, then vertues. Couldest thou vnder the Image of so precise holynesse, harbour the expresse patterne of barbarous crueltie? I sée now that as the Canker soonest entreth into the white Rose, so cor­ruption doth eassiest creepe into the white head.

Would Callimachus could as well disgest thy malyce with patience, as thou diddest disguise it with crafte: or wold & might either bury my care w ^t thy carcasse, or that thou hadst ended thy defame with thy death. But as the hearbe Moly hath a floure as white as snow, and a roote as black as inck, so age hath a white head shewing pie­tie, but a blacke heart swellyng with mischiefe. Where­by I sée that olde men are not vnlyke vnto olde Trées, whose barkes séemeth to be sounde, when their bodyes are rotten.

I wil mourne, not that thou art now dead, but bicause thou hast liued so long, neither doe I wéepe to sée thée without breath, but to finde thée without mony. In stéede of coyne thou hast left me counsayle: O polytique olde man. Didst thou learne by experience, that an edge can be any thing worth, if it haue nothing to cut, or that Mi­ners could worke without mettalls, or wisedome thrius without where-with.

[Page] What auayleth it to be a cunning Lapidarie, & haue no stones? or a skilfull Pilot, & haue no ship? or a thrif­tie man, and haue no money. Wisedome hath no Mint, Counsell is no coyner. He that in these dayes seeketh to get wealth by wit, with-out friends, is lyke vnto him, that thinketh to buye meate in the Market, for honestie with-out money, which thriueth on either side so well, that the one hath a wittie head, & an emptie pursse, the other a godly minde, and an emptie belly.

Yea, such a worlde it is, that Gods can doe nothing without golde, and who of more might? nor Princes any thing without gifts, and who of more Maiestie? nor Philosophers any thing with-out gylt, and who of more wisedome? For as among the Aegyptians, there was no man estéemed happy, that had not a beast ful of spots, so amongst vs, there is none accompted wise, that hath not his pursse full of golde. And hadst thou not loued money so wel, thou wouldest neuer haue liued so warily, and dyed so wickedly, who either burying thy treasure, doest hope to méete it in Hell, or borowing it of the Di­uell, hast rendered him the whole, the interest where­off, I feare me commeth to no lesse, then the price of thy soule.

But whether art thou caryed Callimachus, rage can neither reduce thy fathers lyfe, nor recouer his treasure. Let it suffice thée, that he was vnkinde, and thou vnfor­tunate, that he is dead and heareth thée not, that thou art alyue and profitest nothing.

But what did my father thinke, that too much wealth would make me proud, and feared not too great miserye wold make me desperate? Whilest he was beginning a fresh to renew his complaints, & reuile his parents, his kinsfolke assembled, who caused him to bridle his lauish tongue, although they meruailed at his piteous tale: For it was wel knowen to them al, that Cassander, had more money then halfe the countrey, and loued Callimachus [Page 5] better then his owne selfe.

Callimachus by the importunitie of his allies, repres­sed his rage, sctting order for al things requisite for his fathers funeralls, who béeing brought with due reue­rence vnto the graue, hée returned home, making a short Inuentorie to his fathers long Will. And hauing made ready mony of such mouables as were in his house, put both them and his house into his purse, resoluing nowe with himselfe in this extremitie, either with the hazarde of his labour to gaine wealth, or by misfortune to séeke death, accompting it great shame to liue with-out tra­uaile, as griefe to be left without treasure, and although he were earnestly entreatred, as well by good profers of gentle perswasions to weane himselfe from so desolate, or rather desperate life, he woulde not herken either to his owne commodities or their counselles: For séeing (saide he) I am left heyre to all the worlde▪ I meane to execute my authoritie, and claime my landes in all places of the worlde. Who now so rich as Callimachus▪ Who had as manye reuenues euerye where as in his owne countrey? Thus being in a readinesse to departe, apparelled in all coulours, as one fitte for all compa­nies, and willing to sée all countries, iournyed thrée or foure dayes very deuoutly lyke a Pilgrime who stray­ing out of his path-way, and somwhat wearie, not vsed to such day labours, rested him-selfe vpon the side of a sil­uer streame euen almost in the [...]grisping of the eue­ning, where thinking to stcale a nappe, beganne to close his eyes. As hée was thus betwéene slumbring and waking, hée heard one cough pitiously, which caused him to start, and séeing no creature, he searched dili­gentlye in euery bushe, and vnder euery shrubbe, at the last hée lyghted on a little caue, where thrusting in his head, more bolde then wise, hee espyed an old man cladde all in gray, with a head as white as Alablaster▪ his h [...]a­rie beard hanging downe well neere to his knées; with [Page] him no earthly creature, sauing onely a Mouse sléeping in a Cats eare.

Ouer the fire this good olde man sate, leaning his head to looke into a little earthen vessell which stoode by him.

Callimachus delighted more then abashed at this straunge sight, thought to sée the manner of his host, be­fore he would be his guest.

This olde man immediatelye tooke out of his potte certeine rootes, on the which he fedde hungerly, hauing no other drinke then fayre water. But that which was most of all to be considered and noted, the Mouse and the Catte fell to their vi [...]tualles, being such reliques as the olde man had left, yea and that so louinglye, as one woulde haue thought them both married, iudging the Mouse to be very wilde, or the Cat very tame.

Callimachus coulde not refraine laughter to beholde the solempne feast, at the voyce where-of the olde man arose, and dema [...]nded who was there: vnto whom Cal­limachus aunswered: Father, one that wisheth thée both greater chéere and better seruauntes: vnto whom he replyed shoaring vp his eyes, by Iis sonne, I ac­compt the chéere good, which maintaineth health, and the seruauntes honest, whome I finde faithfull. And if thou neyther thinke scorne of my company nor my Cell, en­ter and welcome, the which offer Callimachus accepted with great thankes, who thought his lodging would bée better then his supper.

The next morning the olde man being very inquisi­tiue of Callimachus what he was, where he dwelt, and whether he would, Callimachus discoursed with him in perticulers, as before, touching his fathers death and despite, against whom he vttered so manye bytter and burning wordes, as the olde Hermittes eares gloed to heare them, and my tongue would blyster if I should vt­ter them.

Moreouer he added that he was determyned to séeke [Page 6] aduentures in straunge landes, and either to fetch the golden fléece by trauaile, or sustaine the force of Fortune by his owne wilfull folly.

Now Philautus, thou shalt vnderstand that this olde Hermit, which was named also Cassander, was brother to Callimachus Father, and Uncle to Callimachus, vnto whome Cassander had before his death conueyed the summe of tenne thousand pounds▪ to the vse of his sonne in his most extremitie, and necessitie, knowing or at the least foreséeing that his young colt will neuer beare a white mouth without a harde bridle. Also he assured him self▪ that his brother so little tendred money being a pro­fessed Hermit, and so much tendred and estéemed Calli­machus, being his néere kinsman, as he put no doubt to stand to his deuotion.

Cassander this old Hermit hearing it to be Callimachus his nephew, & vnderstanding of the death of his brother, dissembled his griefe, although he wer glad to see things happen out so well, and determined with himselfe to make a Cosin of his young Nephew, vntil he had bought witte with the price of woe, wherefore he assayed first to stay him from trauaile, and to take some other course, more fit for a Gentleman. And to the intent sayde he, that I may perswade thée, giue eare to my tale. And this is the tale Philautus that I promised thée, whiche the Hermitte sitting now in the Sunne, beganne to vtter to Callimachus.

WHen I was young as thou nowe art, I neuer thought to be olde, as nowe I am, whiche cau­sed lustie bloude to attempt those things in youth, which aking boanes haue repented in age. I hadde one one­ly Brother, which also bore my name, being both born at one tyme as twinnes, but so farre disagre [...]ing in nature, as had not as well the respect of the [...] time, as also the certeintie and assuraunce of our Mothers [Page] fidelitie, perswaded the worlde we hadde one Father: It woulde verye hardlye haue béene thought, that such contrarie dispositions coulde well haue béene bredde in one wombe, or issued from ones loynes. Yet as out of one and the selfe same roote, commeth as well the wilde Olyue, as the swéete, and as the Palme Persian Figge trée, beareth as well Apples, as Figs: so our mo­ther thrust into the world at one time, the blossom of­grauitie and lightnesse.

We were nursed both with one teate, where my bro­ther sucked a desire of thirst, and I of theft, which eui­dently sheweth, that as the breath of the Lyon engen­dreth as well the Serpent as the Ant, and as the selfe same deaw forceth the earth to yéeld both the Darnell and Wheate: or as the Easterly winde maketh the blos­somes to blast, and the buddes to blowe, so one wombe nourisheth contrary wits, and one milke diuers man­ners, which argueth somthing in Nature I knowe not what, to be meruailous, I dare not say monstrous.

As we grewe olde in yeares, so began we to be more opposite in opinions: he graue, I gamesome: hée stu­dious, I carelesse: hée without mirth, and I with-out modestie.

And veryly, had we resembled each other, as little in fauour, as we did in fancie, or disagréed as much in shape as we did in sence, I know not what Dedalus wold haue made, a Laborinth for such Monsters, or what Ap­pelles could haue couloured such mishapes.

But as the Painter Tamantes could no way expres the griefe of Agamemnon, who sawe his onely daughter sacrificed, and there-fore drewe him with a vale ouer his face, where-by one might better conceiue his an­guishe, then he coulour it: so some Tamantes séeing vs, would be constrained with a Curtaine to shadowe that deformitie, which no counterf [...]it could protraye liuelye. But nature recompenced the similitude of mindes, [Page 7] with a Sympathy of bodies, for we were in all parts one so like the other, that it was hard to distinguish either in speach, countenaunce, or height one from the other, sauing that either caryed the motion of his minde in his man­ners, and that the affects of the heart were bewrayed by the eyes, which made vs knowen manifestly. For as two Kubies be they neuer so lyke, yet if they be brought to­gether one staineth the other, so we béeing close one to the other, it was easely to imagine by y ^e face, whose vertue deserued most fauour, for I could neuer sée my brother, but his grauitie would make me blush, which caused me to resemble the Thrush, who neuer singeth in the compa­ny of the Nightingale, For whilest my brother was in presence, I durst not presume to talke, least his wisedome might haue checked my wildenesse: Much like to Rosci­us, who was alwayes dumbe when he dined with Cato. Our Father being on his death bed, knew not whom to ordeine his heire, being both of one age: to make both, woulde bréede as he thought, vnquiet: to appoynt but one, were as he knew iniury: to deuide equally, wer to haue no heire: to impart more to one then to the other, were parctalitie: to disherite me of his wealth, whome Nature had disherited of wisedom, were against reason: to barre my brother from gold whom God séemed to en­due with grace, were flat impietie: yet calling vs before him, he vttered with watry eyes these words.

WEre it not my sonnes, that Nature worketh more in me, then Iustice, I should disherite the one of you, who promiseth by his folly to spende all, and leaue the other nothing, whose wisedome séemeth to purchase all things. But I welknow, that a bitter roote is amen­ded with a swéet graft, and crooked trées, proue good Cant­mockes, and wylde Grapes make pleasaunt Wine. Which perswadeth me, that thou (poynting to me) wilt in age repent thy youthly affections, and learne to dye as [Page] well, as thou hast liued wantonly. As for thée (laying his hande on my brothers head) although I sée more then commonly in any of thy yeares, yet knowing that those that giue themselues to be bookish are oftentimes so bloc­kish that they forget thrist: Where-by the olde Sawe is verified, that the greatest Clearkes are not the wisest men, who digge still at the roote, while others gather the fruite, I am determined to helpe thée forward, least ha­uing nothing, thou desire nothing, and so hée accompted as no body. He hauing thus sayd called for two bagges, the one full of golde, the other stuft with writings, and casting them both vnto vs sayd this: There my sonnes, deuide all, as betwéene you it shall be best agréed, and so rendred vp his ghoast, with a pitifull grone.

My brother as one that knew his owne good & my hu­mour, gaue me leaue to chuse which bag I lyked, at the choyce, I made no great curiositie, but snatching y ^e golde let goe the wrstings, which were as I knew Guidences for lande, Oblygations for debt, too heauy for me to cary, who determined (as now thou doest Callimachus) to séeke aduentures. My pursse now swelling with a timpany. I thought to search all countryes for a remedy, & sent ma­ny golden Angels into euery quarter of the world, which neuer brought newes againe to their master, being either soared into Heauen wher I cannot fetch them, or sunke into Hell for pride, where I meane not to follow them. This lyse I continued the space of. xiiii. yeares, vntill I had visited & viewed euery countrey, and was a straun­ger in mine owne: but finding no treasure to be wrap­ped in trauell, I retourned with more vices, then I went foorth with pence, yet with so good a grace, as I was able to sinne both by experience and authoritie, vse framing me to the one, and the countryes to the other. Ther was no crime so barbarous, no murther so bloudie, no oath so blasphemous, no vice so execrable, but that I could rede­ly recite, where I learned it, and by roate repeate the pe­culiar [Page 8] crime, of euery particular Country, Citie, Town, Village, house, or Chamber. If I met with one of Creete, I was ready to lye with him for the whetstone. It with a Grecian, I could dissemble with Synon, I could court it with the Italian, carous it with the Dutch-man. I lear­ned all kinde of poysons, yea, & such as were for y ^e Popes holynesse. In Aegypt I worshipped their spotted God at Memphis. In Turkey, their Mahomet. In Rome, their Masse: which gaue me not onely a remission for my sins past, with-out penaunce, but also a commission to sinne euer after with-out preiudice. There was no fashion but fitted my backe: no fancie but serued my tourne. But now my barrell of golde, which Pride set a broach, loue began to set a tilte, which in short time ranne so on the lées, that the Diuell daunced in the bottome, where he found neuer a crosse. It wer to tedious to vtter my whole lyfe in this my Pilgrimage, the remembraunce where­off, doth nothing but double my repentaunce.

Then to grow to an ende, I séeing my mony wasted, my apparell worne, my minde infected with as many vi­ces, as my body w ^t diseases, and my body with more ma­ladyes, then the Leopard hath markes, hauing nothing for amends but a few brokē languages, which serued me in▪ no more stéede, then to sée one meate serued in diuers dishes: I thought it best to retourne into my natiue soyle, where finding my brother as farre now to ercéed others in wealth as he did me in witte, and that he had gained more by thrift, then I could spend by pride, I neither enuied his estate, nor pitied mine own: but ope­ned the whole course of my youth, not thinking thereby to recouer that of him by request, which I had lost my selfe by ryot, for casting in my minde, the miseries of the world, with the mischiefes of my lyfe, I determined from that vnto my liues end, to lead a solitary life in this caue, which I haue done the tearme of ful fortie Winters, frō whence, neither the earnest entreatie of my Brother, [Page] nor the bayne pleasures of the world could drawe mée, neither shall any thing but death.

Then my good Callimachus, recorde with thy selfe the inconueniences that come by trauailyng, when on the Seas euery storme shall threaten death, and euery calme a daunger, when either thou shalt be compelled to boord others as a Pyrate, or feare to be boorded of others as a Merchaunt: when at all times, thou must haue the back of an Asse to beare all, and the snout of a Swine, to say nothing, thy hand on thy cap to shew reuerence to euery rascall, thy pursse open to be prodigal to euery Boore, thy sword in thy sheath, not once daring either to strike or ward, which maketh me thinke, that trauaylers, are not onely framed not to commit iniuries, but also to take them. Learne Callimachus of the bird Acanthis, who be­ing bredde in the thistells, wil liue in the thistels, and of the grashopper, who being sprong of the grasse, wil rather dye thē depart from the grasse. I am of this minde with Homer, that as the Snaile that crept out of hir shel, was turned eftsoones into a Toad, and therby was forced to make a stoole to sit on, disdaining hir owne house: so the Trauailer that stragleth from his owne countrey, is in short time transformed into so monstrous a shape, that he is faine to alter his mansion with his manners, and to liue where he can, not wher he would. What did Vlysses wish in the midst of his trauailing, but onely to sée the smoake of his owne Chimney? Did not all the Ro­maines, say, that he y ^t wandred did nothing els but heap [...] sorowes to his friends, and shame to himselfe, and resem­bled those that séeking to light a linke, quenched a lamp, imitating the barbarous Gothes, who thought the rootes in Alexandria, swéeter than the Kaisons in Barbary: In my opinion it is a homely kinde of dealyng to preferre the courtesie of those he neuer knew, before the honestie of those among whom he was borne: he that cannot liue with a groate in his owne Countrey, shall neuer enioy a [Page 9] penny in an other nation. Little dost thou know Calli­machus, with what wood trauailers are warmed, who must sléepe with their eyes open, least they be slaine in their beddes, and wake with their eyes shut, least they be suspected by their lookes, and eate with their mouthes close, least, they be poysoned with their meates. Where if they war wealthie, thou shalt be enuied, not loued: If poore, punished, not pittied: If wise, accounted espyalls: If foolish, made drudges. Euery Gentle-man will be thy péere though they be noble, and euery pesant their Lord, if they be gentle. Hée therefore that leaueth his owne house to séeke aduentures, is like the Quaile that forsa­keth the Malowes to eate Hemlocke, or the Flye that shunneth the Rose, to light in a cowshard.

No Callimachus, there wil no mosse sticke to the stone of Sisiphus, no grasse hang on the héeles of Mercurie, no butter cleaue on y ^e bread of a trauailer. For as the Egle at euery flight looseth a fether, which maketh hir bald in hir age: so the trauailer in euery countrey looseth some fléece, which maketh him a begger in his youth, buying that with a pound, which he cannot sell again for a pen, ney, repentaunce. But why go I about to disswad thée from that, which I my selfe followed, or to perswade thée to that which thou thy selfe flyest? My gray haires are like vnto a white frost, thy read bloud not vnlike vnto a hot fire: so that it can-not be that either thou shouldest follow my counsell, or I allow thy conditions: such a quarrell hath there alwayes béene betwéene the graue and the cradle, that he that is young thinketh the old man fond, and the old knoweth the young man to be a foole. But Callimachus, for y ^e towardnes I sée in thée, I must néedes loue thée, and for thy frowardnesse of force counsell thée: & do in the same sort, as Phoebus did the da­ring boy Phaeton. Thou goest about a great matter, nei­ther fit for thy yeres being very young nor thy profit be­ing left so poore, thou desirest y ^t which thou knowest not, [Page] neither can any performe that which thou séemest to pro­mise. If thou couet to trauaile straunge countries, search the Maps, there shalt thou sée much, with great pleasure and small paines, if to be conuersant in all courtes, read histories, where thou shalt vnderstand both what the men haue bene, & what their manners are, and me thinketh there must be much delight, when there is no daunger▪ And if thou haue any care either of the gréene bud which springeth out of the tender stalke, or the timelye fruite which is to growe of so good a roote, séeke not to kill the one, or hasten the other: but let time so work, that grafts may be gathered of the trée, rather then sticks to burne. And so I leaue thée, not to thy selfe, but to him that made thée, who guide thée with his grace whether thou go as thou wouldest, or tarry at home as thou shouldest.

Callimachus obstinate in his fond conceit, was so far from being perswaded by this old Hermit, that he rather made it a greater occasion of his pilgrimage, & with an answer betwéene scorning and resoning, he replyed thus.

Father or friende (I knowe not very well howe to tearme you) I haue bene as attentiue to heare your good discourse, as you were willing to vtter it: yet me think­eth you deale meruailously with youth, in séeking by sage counsel to put gray hayres on their chins, before nature hath giuen them almost anye hayres on their heades: where-in you haue gone so farre, that in my opinion your labour had bene better spent in trauailing where you haue not liued, then in talking where you cannot be beleeued. You haue bene a Trauailer, and tasted nothing but sowre, therefore whosoeuer trauaileth, shall eate of the same sauce: an Argument it is, that your fortune was ill, not that others should be as had, and a warning to make you wise, not a warning to proue others vn­fortunate. Shall a soldier that hath receiued a skarre in the battaile, giue out that all warriours shall be may­ [...]ied? Or the Marchaunt that hath lost by the Seas, be [Page 10] a cause that no other should venture, or a trauailer that hath sustained harme by sinister fortune, or ben infected by his own folly, disswade all Gentlemē to rest at their owne home, till they come to their long home? Why then let all men abstaine from wine, bicause it made A­lexander tipsie, let no man loue a woeman for that Tar­quine was banished, let not a wise man play at all, for that a foole hath lost al, which in my minde would make such medly, that we shoulde be enforced to leaue thinges that were best, for feare they may be bad, and that were as fond as not to cut ones meat with that knife that an other hath cut his finger. Things are not to be iudged by the euent, but by the ende, nor trauailing to be condem­ned by yours or manies vnlucky successe, but by the com­mon and most approued wisdome of those that can bet­ter shewe what it is then I, and will better speake of it then you do.

Where you alledge Vlisses that he desired nothing so much, as to sée the smoake of Ithaca, it was not be­cause he loued not to trauaile, but that he lōged to sée his wife after his trauaile: and greater commendation brought his trauaile to him, then his wit: the one taught but to speake, the other what he should speake. And in this you turne the poynt of your owne bodkin into your own bosome. Vlisses was no lesse estéemed for knowledge he had of other countries, then for the reuenewes he had in his owne, and where in the end you séeme to refer me to the viewing of Maps, I was neuer of that minde to make my ship in a painters shoppe, which is like those, who haue great skill in a woodden Globe, but neuer be­holde the skie. And he that séeketh to be a cunning Tra­uailer by séeing the Maps and an expert Astronomer, by turning the Globe, may be an Apprentice for Appelles, but no Page for Vlysses.

An other reason you bring, that trauailing is costlye, I speake for my selfe: Hée that hath little to spende, [Page] hath not much to lose, and he that hath nothing in his owne countrey, cannot haue lesse in any.

Would you haue me spend the floure of my youth, as you doe the withered rase of your age▪ can y ^e fair bloud of youth créepe into the ground as it were frost bitten▪ No father Hermit, I am of Alexanders minde, if there were as many worlds, as ther be cities in the world, I would neuer leaue vntill I had séene all y ^e worlds, and ech citie in euery world. Therfore to be short, nothing shall alter my minde neither penny nor Pater noster.

This old man séeing him so resolute, resolued to let him departe, and gaue him his farewell.

MY good sonne, though thou wilt not suffer me to per­swade thée, yet shalt thou not let me to pittie thée: yea, and to pray for thée: but the time will come when comming home by wéeping crosse, thou shalt confesse, that it is better to be at home in the caue of an Hermit then abroade in the court of an Emperour, and that a crust with quietnesse shall be better then Quailes with vn­rest. And to the ende thou maist proue my sayinges as true, as I knowe thy selfe to be wilfull, take the paines to returne by this poore Cell, where thy fare shall be a­mended, if thou amend thy fault, and so farewell.

Callimachus courteously tooke his leaue, and went his way: but we wil not leaue him til we haue him again, at the Cell where we found him.

NOw Philautus and Gentle-men all, suppose that Callimachus had as ill fortune, as euer had any, his minde infected with his bodye, his time consumed w ^t his treasure: nothing won, but what he cannot loose though be would, miserie. You must imagine (bicause it were too long to tell all his iourney) that he was Sea sicke, (as thou beginnest to be Philautus) that he hardly esca­ped death, that he endured hunger and cold, heat with­out drink, y ^t he was entangled with women, entrapped, [Page 12] deceiued, that euery stoole he sate on, was penniles bench, that his roves were rags, that he had as much néede of a Chyrurgian as a Phisition, and that thus he came home to the Cell, and with shame and sorow began to saye as followeth.

I Finde too late, yet at length, that in age there is a certeine foresight, which youth can-not search, and of a kinde of experience, vnto which, vnripened yeres can not come: so that I must of necessitie confesse, that youth neuer raineth well, but when age holdeth the bridle (you sée my good father) what I would say by outward shew, and I neede not tell what I haue tryed, bicause before you tolde me, I shoulde finde it: this I say, that what­soeuer misery happened either to you or anye, the same hath chaunced to me alone, I can say no more, I haue tri­ed no lesse.

The olde Hermit glad to sée this ragged Colt retur­ned, yet grieued to sée him so tormented, thought not to adde sower words to augment his sharpe woes, but ta­king him by the hande, and sitting downe, began after a solempne manner, from the beginning to the ende, to dis­course with him of his fathers affaires, euen after the sort that before I rehearsed, and delyuered vnto him his mo­ney, thinking now that misery, would make him thriftie, desiring also, that as well for the honour of his Fathers house, as his owne credit, he would returne againe to the Ilande, and there be a comfort to his friends, and a re­liefe to his poore neighbours, which would be more worth then his wealth, and the fulfilling of his Fathers last Will.

Callimachus not a lyttle pleased with this tale, and I think not much displeased with y ^e golde, gaue such thākes as to such a friend apperteined, and following the coun­saile of his vnckle, which euer after he obeyed as a com­maundement, he came to his own house, liued long with [Page] great wealth, and as much worship as any one in Scy­rum, & whether he be now lyuing I know not, but whe­ther he be or no, it skilleth not.

Now Philautus, I haue tolde this tale to this ende, not that I thinke trauailyng to be ill if it be vsed well, but that such aduice be taken that the horse cary not his owne bridle, nor youth rule himselfe in his own cōceits. Besides that, such places are to be chosen, wherein to in­habite as are as commendable for vertue, as buildings: where the manners, are more to be marked, then y ^e men séene. And this was my whole drift, either neuer to tra­uaile, or so to trauayle, as although the pursse be weake­ned, the minde may be strengthened. For not he that hath seene most countreyes is most to be estéemed, but he that learned best conditions: for not so much are the sci­tuation of the places to be noted, as the vertues of the persons. Which is contrary to the common practise of our trauaylers, who goe either for gaine, and retourne without knowledge, or for fashiō sake, & come home with out pietie: Whose estates are as much to be lamented, as their follyes are to be laughed at, this causeth youth to spende their golden time, without either praise or pro­fite, pretending a desire of learning, when they only fol­low loytering. But I hope our trauaile shall bée better employed, séeing vertue is the white we shoote at, not va­nitie, neither the English tongue (which as I haue heard is almost barbarous) but the English manners, which as I thinke are most precise: And to thée Philautus I begin to addresse my speach, hauing made an ende of my hermits tale, & if these few precepts I giue thée be obser­ued, then doubt not, but we both shal learne that, we best lyke. And these they are.

AT thy comming into England, be not too inquisitiue of newes neither curious in matters of State, in assem­blyes aske no questions, either cōcerning māners or mē. Be not lauish of thy tongue, either in causes of weight, [Page 12] least thou shew thy selfe an espyall, or in wanton talke, least thou proue thy selfe a foole.

It is the Nature of that countrey to sift straungers, euery one that shaketh thée by the hande is not ioyned to thée in hart. They think Italians wanton, & Grecians sub­till, they will trust neither, they are so incredulous, but vndermine both▪ they are so wise. Be not quartellous for euery lyght occasion, they are impatient in their anger of any equal, ready to reuenge an iniury, but neuer wont to proffer any: they neuer fight without prouoking, and once prouoked, they neuer cease. Beware thou fal not in­to the snares of loue, the women there are wise, the men craftie: they will gather loue by thy lookes, and pick thy minde out of thy hands. It shal be ther better to heare what they say, then to speake what thou thinkest: They haue long eares and short tongues, quicke to heare, and slow to btter: broad eyes and lyght fingers, ready to es­py and apte to strike. Euerye straunger is a marke for them to shoote at: yet this must I say, which in no coū ­trey I can tell the lyke, y ^t it is as seldome to sée a straun­ger abused ther, as it is rare to sée any wel vsed els wher: yet presume not too much of y ^e courtesies of those, for they▪ differ in natures, some are hot, some colde, one simple, an other wily, yet if thou vse few words, & faire speches, thou shalt commaund any thing thou standest in néede off.

Touching the situation of the soile, I haue read in my studie, which I partly belieue (hauing no worse Author then Caesar) yet at my comming, when I shall conferre the things I sée, with those I haue read, I will iudge ac­cordingly. And this haue I heard: that the inner part of Brittaine is inhabited by such as wer borne & bred in the Isle, and the Sea-coast by such as haue passed thether out of Belgicke to search booties, and to make warre. The countrey is meruaylously replenished with people, and there be many buildings, almost like in fashion to y ^e buil­dings of Gallia, there is great store of Cattell, the coyne [Page] they vse, is either of Brasse, or els rings of Iron, used at a certeine waight in stéede of money. In the inner parts of the Realme groweth Tinne, and in the Sea Coaste groweth yron. The Brasse that they occupye, is brought in from beyond-sea. The aire is more temperate in those places, than in Fraunce, and the colde lesser. The Iland is in fashion three cornered, where-off one side is toward Fraunce, the one corner of this side which is Kent, wher for the most part Ships ariue out of Fraunce, is in the Gast, and the other nethermore, is towards the South. This side containeth about fiue hundred miles, an other side lyeth toward Spayne and the Sunne going downe, on the which side is Ireland, lesse then Britaine, as is sup­posed by the one halfe: but the cut betwéen them, is like the distaunce that is betwéene Fraunce and Britaine▪ In the middest of this course is an Ilande called Man, the length of this side is (according to y ^e opinion of the Inha­biters) seuc̄ hundred miles. The third side is Northward, and against it lyeth no lande, but the poynt of that side, butteth most vppon Germany. This they estéeme to bée eight hundred miles long, & so y ^e ciruit of y ^e whole Iland is two thousand miles. Of all the Inhabitaunts of this Isse, the Kentishmen are most ciuilest, the which country marcheth altogether vpon the Sea, & differeth not great­ly from the manner of Fraunce. They that dwell more in the hart of the Realme saw corne, but liue by milke & flesh, and cloath themselues in leather. All the Britaines doe dye themselues with woad, which setteth a blewishe coulour vppon them, & it maketh them more terrible to beholde in battaile. They weare their haire long, & shaue all parts of their bodies, sauing the head and the vpper lyppe. Diuers other vses and customes among them, as I haue read Philautus: But whether these be true or no, I will not say, for me thinketh an Iland so well gouer­ned in peace then, and so famous in victoryes, so fertile in all respects, so wholsome and populous, must néedes [Page 13] in the tearme of a thousand yeares be much better, and I beléeue we shall finde it such, as we neuer read the like of any, vntill we ariue there, we will suspend our iudge­ments: yet do I meane at my returne from thence, to drawe the whole discription of the Land, the customes, the nature of the people, the state, the gouernement, and whatsoeuer deserueth either meruaile or commendation.

Philautus not accustomed to those narrow Seas, was more readie to tell what wood the ship was made of then to aunsivere to Euphues discourse: yet betwéene wa­king and winking, as one halfe sicke, and somwhat slée­py, it came in his braines, aunswered thus.

In faith Euphues thou hast told a long tale, the be­ginning I haue forgotten, the middle I vnderstand not, and the end hangeth not together: therefore I can-not repeate it as I woulde, nor delight in it as I ought: yet if at our ariuall thou wilt renew thy tale, I will rubbe my memorie: in the meane season would I were either againe in Italy, or now in England. I cannot brook these Seas, which prouoke my stomacke sore. I haue an appe­tite, it were best for me to take a nap, for euery word is brought forth with a nod.

Euphues replied. I cannot tell Philautus whether the SEa make thée sicke, or she that was borne of the Sea: if the first, thou hast a quesic stomacke: if the leatter, a wanton desire. I well beléeue thou remembrest nothing that may doe thée good, nor forgettest any thing, which can do thée harme, making more of a sore then a plaister, and wishing rather to be curssed then cured, where-in thou agréest with those, which hauing taken a surfet, séeke the meanes rather to sléepe then purge, or those that hauing the gréen sicknes, and are brought to deaths dore, follow their owne humour, and refuse the Phisiti­ons remedie. And such Philautus is thy disease, who pi­ning in thine one follies, chusest rather to perishe in lone, then to liue in wisdome, but whatsoeuer bée the [Page] cause, I wish the effect may aunswere my friendly care: then doubtles y ^u shalt neither dye being sea-sicke, or doat being loue-sicke. I would the Sea, could aswel purge thy minde of fond conceits, as thy body of grose humours. Thus ending, Philautus againe began to vrge.

Without doubt Euphues thou dost me great wrong, in séeking a skar in a smoth skin, thinking to stop a vain where none is opened, & to cast loue in my téeth, whiche I haue alreadie spitte out of my mouth, which I must néeds think procéedeth rather for lacke of matter, then any good meaning, els woldest thou neuer harp on that string which is burst in my hart, & yet euer sounding in thy cares. Thou art like those that procure one to take phisik before he be sicke, & to apply a searcloth to his bo­dy, when he féeleth no ache, or a vomit for a surfet, when his stomacke is emptie. If euer I fall to mine old Byas, I must put thée in the fault that talkes of it, séeing thou didst put mée in the mind to thinke of it, whereby thou séemest to blowe the cole which thou wouldest quench, setting a téene edge, where thou desirest to haue a sharp poynt, ymping a fether to make mée flye, when thou oughtest rather to cut my wing for feare of soaring.

Lucilla is dead, and shée vppon whome I gesse thou harpest is forgotten: the one not to be redéemed, the o­ther not to be thought on: Then good Euphues wring not a horse on the withers, with a false saddle neither imagine what I am by thy thoughts, but by mine own doings: so shalt thou haue me both willing to followe good counsell, and able hereafter to giue thée comfort. And so I rest halfe sléepy with the Seas.

With this aunswere Euphues held himselfe content, but as much wearied with talke as the other was with trauaile, made a pillow of his hande, and there let them both sléepe their fill and dreame with their fansies, vntill either a storme cause them so wake, or their hard bedds, or their iournies end.

[Page 14] Thus for the space of an eight wéeks Euphues & Phi­lautus sayled on y ^e seas, from their first shipping, betwéen whom diuers speaches were vttered, which to resite wer nothing necessaric in this place, and waying the circum­stances, scarse expedient: what tempestes they endured, what straunge sights in the element, what monstrous fishes were séene, howe often they were in daunger of drowning: in feare of boording, how wearie, howe sicke, howe angry, it were tedious to write, for that who­soeuer hath either read of trauayling, or himselfe vsed it, can sufficiently gesse what is to be saide. And this I leaue to the iudgement of those that in the like iour­ney haue spent their time from Naples to England, for if I shoulde faine more then others haue tryed, I might be thought to Poeticall: if lesse, parciall. Therefore I omit the wonders, the Rockes, the markes, the goulffes, and whatsoeuer they passed or sawe, least I should trou­ble diuers with things they know, or may shame my self with things I know not. Let this suffice, that they are safely come within a kenne of Douer, which the Maister espying with a chéerefull voyce waking them, began to vtter these words vnto them.

GEntlemen and friends, the longest Sommers daye hath his euening, Vlysses arriueth at last, and rough windes in time bring the Shippe to safe Road. We are nows within foure houres sayling of our Hauen, and as you will thinke, of an earthlye Heauen. Yonder white Cliffes which easely you may perceiue, are Douer hills, wherevnto is adioyning a strong and famous Castle, in­to the which Iulius Caesar dyd enter, wher you shal view many goodly monuments, both strange and auncient. Therefore pull vp yours hartes, this merry winde will immediatly bring vs to an easy bayte.

Philautus was glad he slept so long, and was awa­ked in so good time, béeing as weary of the Seas, as [...]e [Page] that neuer vsed them. Euphues not sorowfull of this good newes, began to shake his eares, and was soone apparai­l [...]d. To make short, the windes were so fauourable, the Manners so skilfull, the way so short, that I feare mée they will lande before I can discribe the manner howe, and therefore suppose them now in Douer Towne, in y ^e noble Isle of England, somwhat benighted, & more apt to sléepe then suppe: yet for manners sake they enter­teyned their Maister and the rest of the Marchaunts and Marriners, wher hauing in due time both recorded their trauailes past, and ended their repast, euery one went to his lodging, wher I will leaue them soundly slée­ping, vntill the next day.

The next day they spent in viewing the Castell of Douer, the Pyre, the Cliffes, the Road, and Towne, receiuing as much pleasure by the sight of auncient mo­numents, as by their curteous entertainment, no lesse praising the persons for their good minds, then the place for the goodly buildings: and in this sort they refreshed thēselues thrée or foure dayes, vntil they had digested the seas, & recouered again their healths, yet so warely they behaued themselues, as they were neuer heard, either to enquire of any newes, or poynt at any fortres, behol­ding y ^e bulwarks with a slight & carelesse regard, but the other places of peace, w ^t admiratiō. Folly it wer to shew what they saw, séeing hereafter in the description of Eng­land, it shall most manifestly appeare. But I will set them forwarde in their iourney, where now with-in this two houres, we shall finde them in Caunterbury.

Trauailing thus like two Pilgrimes, they thought it most necessarye to direct their steppes towarde Lon­don, which they heard was the most royall seate of the Quéene of England. But first they came to Caunterbu­ry, an olde Citie, some-what decayed, yet beautifull to beholde, most famous for a Cathedrall Church, the ve­rye Maicstie whereof stroke them into a maze, where [Page 15] they saw many monuments, and hard tel of greater, then either they euer saw or easely would beléeue. After they had gone long, séeing themselues almost benighted, deter­mined to make the next house their Inne, and espying in their way euen at hand a very pleasant garden, drew néere, where they saw a comely olde man, as busie as a Bee, among his Bees, whose countenaunce be wrayed his conditions; this auncient Father, Euphues gréeted in this manner.

FAther, if the courtesie of England be aunswerable so the custome of Pilgrimes, then will the nature of the countrey, excuse the boldnesse of straungers: our request is to haue such enterteinment, being almost tyred with trauayle, not as diuers haue for acquaintaunce, but as all men haue for their money, which courtesie if you graunt, we wil euer remaine in your debt, although eue­ry way discharge our due: and rather we are importu­nate, for that we are no lesse delyghted with y ^e pleasures of your gardeine, then the sight of your grauitie. Unto whom the olde man sayd.

GEntlemen you are no lesse, I perceiue by your man­ners, & you can be no more being but men, I am nei­ther so vncourteous to mislyke your request, nor so sus­picious to mistrust your truthes, although it be no lesse perillous to be secure, then péeuish to be curious. I kéepe no virtuallyng, yet is my house an Inne, & I an Hoste for euery honest man, so farre as they with courtesie will, & I may with abilytie. Your enterteinment shall bée as small for chéere, as your acquaintaunce is for time, yet in my house, you may happely finde some one thing cleanly, nothing courtly: for that wisedome prouideth things ne­cessary, not superfluous, & age séeketh rather a Modicum for suffenaunce, then feastes for surfets. But vntill some thing may be made ready, might I be so bold as enquire [Page] your names, countreyes, & the cause of your Pilgrimage, where-in if I shall be more inquisitiue then I ought, let my rude birth satisfie my bolde request, which I wil not vrge as one importunate (I might say) impudent.

Euphues séeing this fatherly and friendly Sire (whom we will name Fidus) to haue no lesse inwarde courtesis then outward comelynesse, coniectured (as wel he might) that the proffer of his bountie, noted the noblenesse of his birth, béeing well assured, that as no Thersites coulde be transformed into Vlisses, so no Alexander coulde bée couched in Damocles. Thinking therfore now with more care and aduisednesse to temper his talke, least either he might séeme foolish or curious, he aunswered him in these tearmes.

GOod sir, you haue bound vs vnto you, with a doubls chaine, the one in pardoning our presumption, the other in graunting our peticion. Which great & vnde­serued kindenesse, though we cannot requit with y ^e lyke, yet if occasion shall serue, you shall finde vs héereafter as willing to make amendes, as we are now ready to giue thankes. Touching your demaundes, we are not so vn­wise to mislike them, or so vngrateful to deny them, least in cōcealing our names it might be thought for some tres­passe, and couering our pretence, we might be suspected of treason. Know you then sir, y ^t this Gentleman my fellow is called Philautus, I Euphues: he, an Italian, I a Gre­cian: both sworne friends by iust tryal, both Pilgrimes, by frée will. Concerning the cause of our comming into this Ilande, it was onely to glue our eyes to our eares, that we might iustifie those things by sight, which wée haue oftentimes with incredible admiration vnderstoode by hearing: to wit, the rare qualities, as wel of the body as the minde, of your most dread Souercigne, & Quéene, the brute of y ^e which hath filled euery corner of y ^e world, insomuch, as there is nothing that moueth either more [Page 16] matter or more meruayle, then hir excellent Maiestie, which Fame when we saw with-out comparison, and almost aboue credit, we determined to spend some parte of our time and treasure in the English Court, where if I could finde y ^e report but to be true in halfe, we should not onely thinke our money and trauaile well employ­ed, but retourned with interest more then infinite. This is the only ende of our comming, which we are nothing fearefull to vtter, trusting as wel to the courtesie of your countrey, as the equitie of our cause.

Touching the Court, if you can giue vs any instruc­tions, ws shal thinke the euening well spent, which pro­curing our delight, can no way worke your dislyking.

GEntlemen (aunswered this olde man) if bicause I enterteine you, you séeke to vndermine me, you offer me great discourtesie: you must néedes thinke me very simple, or your selues very subtill, if vppon so small ac­quaintaunce I should aunswere to such demaundes, as are neither for me to vtter being a subiect, nor for you to know being strangers. I kéep hiues for Bées, not hou­ses for busie bodyes, (pardon me Gentlemen, you haue moued my patience,) and more welcome shall a Waspe be to my honny, then a priuie enimie to my house. If the rare report of my most gratious Lady, haue brought you hether, me thinketh you haue done very ill, to chuse such a house to confirme your mindes as séemeth more like a prison then a pallaice, wherby in my opinion, you meane to derogate from the worthinesse of the person, by the vylenesse of the place, which argueth your pretences to sauour of mallyce, more then honest meaning.

They vse to consulte of Ioue, in the Capitoll: of Caesar, in the Senate: of our noble Quéene, in hir owne Courte. Besides that, Alexander must bée pain­ted of none but Appelles, nor engrauen of anye but Lysippus, nor our Elizabeth set foorth of euerye one that [Page] would in duetie, which are all, but of those that can in skil, which are few, so farre hath Nature ouercome Art, and grace eloquence, that the Paynter draweth a vayle ouer that he can-not shadow, and the Orator holdeth a paper in his hand, for that he cannot vtter. But whether am I wandring, rapt farther by deuotion, then I canne wade through with discretion. Cease then Gentlemen, & know this, that a English-man learneth to speake of me [...], and to holde his peace of the Gods. Enquire no far­ther then beseemeth you, least you heare that which can not lyke you. But if you think the time long before your repast, I will finde some talke which shall breede your delyght, touching my Bées.

And héere Euphues brake him off, and replyed: though not as bitterly as he would, yet as roundly as he durst, in this manner.

We are not a little sory sir, not that we haue opened our mindes, but that we are taken amisse, and when we ment so well, to be intreated so ill, hauing talked of no one thing vnlesse it be of good will towards you, whō we reuerence for age, and of dutie toward your Souerigne, whom we meruailed at for vertue: which good meaning of ours, misconstrued by you, hath bred such a distempe­rature in our heads, that we are fearefull to praise hir, whom all the world extolleth, and suspitious to trust you, whom aboue any in the world we loued. And where-as your greatest argument is, the basenesse of gour house, me thinketh that maketh most against you. Caesar neuer reioyced more, then when he heard, that they talked of his valyaunt erploits in simple cotages, alleadging this, that a bright Sun shineth in euery corner, which maketh not the beames worse, but the place better, when (as I remē ­ber) Agesilaus sonne was set at the lower ende of the ta­ble and one cast it in his téeth as a shame, he aunswe­red: this is the vpper ende where I sit, for it is not the place that maketh the person, but the person that maketh [Page 17] the place honourable. When it was told Alexander that he was much prayse [...] of a Myller, I am glad quoth he, that there is not so▪much as a Myller but loueth A­lexander. Among other fables, I call to my remem­braunce one, not long, but apt, and as simple as it is, so fit it is, that I cannot omitte it for the opportunitie of the time, though I might ouer-leape it for the basenesse of the matter. When all the birdes were appoynted to méete to talke of the Eagle, there was great contention, at whose nest they should assemble, euery one willing to haue it at his owne home, one preferring the nobilitie of his birth, an other the statelynesse of his building: some woulde haue it for one qualitie, some for an other: at the last the Swallow saide they shoulde come to his nest (being commonly of filth) which all the Birds dis­daining, saide: why thy house is nothing els but durt, and therefore aunswered the Swallow, woulde I haue talke there of the Eagle: for being the basest, the name of an Eagle will make it the b [...]auest. And so good father may I say of thy cottage, which thou séemest to account of so homely, that mouing but speach of thy soueraigne, it will be more like a court then a cabbin, and of a pri­son the name of Elizabeth will make it a pallace.

The Image of a Prince stampt in copper, goeth as currant: and a Crow may try Aue Caesar with-out any rebuke.

The name of a Prince is like the swéete deaw, which falleth as well vppon lowe shrubbes, as high trées, and resembleth a true Glasse, wherein the poore may sée their faces with the rich, or a cléere streame where-in all may drineke that are dry: not they onely that are weal­thy.

Where you adde that we should feare to moue any oc­casion touching talke of so noble a Prince, truely our reuerence taketh away the feare of suspition.

The Lambe feareth not the Lion, but the Wolfe: the [Page] Partridge dreadeth not the Eagle, but the Hawk: a true and faithfull heart stand [...] [...] in awe of his superi­or whome he loueth for feare, then of his Prince whom he feareth for loue. A [...]léere conscience néedeth no ex­cuse, nor feareth any accusation. Lastly, you conclude, that neither art nor heart can so set foorth your noble Quéene, as shée deserueth. I graunt it, and reioyce at it, and that is the cause of our comming to sée hir, whome none can sufficiently commend: and yet doeth it not followe, that bicause we can-not giue hir as much as shee is worthy of, therefore we shoulde not owe hir any. But in this we will imitate the olde paynters in Greece, who drawing in their Tables the Portrature of Iuppiter, were euery houre mending it, but durst ne­uer finish it: And being demaunded why they beganne that, which they coulde not ende, they aunswered, in that we shewe him to be Iuppiter, whom euerye one may beginne to paint, but none can perfect. In the like manner, meane wée to drawe in part the praises of hir, whome we cannot throughly protraye, and in that wée signifie hir to be Elyzabeth: Who enforceth euery man to do as much as he can, when in respect of hir perfecti­on, it is nothing. For as he that beholdeth the Sunne stedfastly, thinking there-by to describe it more perfect­ly, hath his eyes so daseled, that he can discerne nothing, so fareth it with those that séeke marueilously to praise those that are with-out the compasse of their iudge­ments, and all comparison, that the more they desire, the lesse they discerne, and the néerer they think themselues in good wil, the farther they finde themselues off in wis­dome, thinking to measure that by the ynch, which they cannot reache with the ell. And yet father, it can bée nei­ther hurtfull to you, nor hateful to your prince, to heare the commendation of a straunger, or to aunswer his ho­nest request, who will wish in heart no lesse glorie to hir, then you doe: although they can wish no more. [Page 18] And therefore me thinketh you haue offered a little [...]i [...] ­courtesse, not to aunswere vs, and to suspecte vs, great iniury: hauing neither might to attempt any thing which may do you harme, nor mallice to reuenge, where we finde helpe. For mine owne part this I say, and for my friend present the like I dare sweare, howe boldly I cannot tell, how truely I knowe: that there is not a­ny one, whether he be bound by benefite or duetie, or both: whether linked by zeale or time, or bloude, or all: that more humbly reuerenceth hir maiestie, or meruai­leth at hir wisdome, or prayeth for hir long prosperous and glorious reigne, then wée: then whome we acknow­ledge none more simple, and yet dare a [...]owe [...], none more faithfull. Which we speake not to get seruice by flatterye, but to acquite our selues of suspition, by faith: which is all that either a Prince can require of his sub­iect, or a vassal yéeld to his Soueraigne, and that which we [...]we to your Quéene, & all others shoulde offer, that either for feare of punishment dare not offend, or for loue of vertue, will not.

Heere olde Fidus interrupted young Euphues béeing almost induced by his talke, to aunswere his request, yet as one neither too credulous, nor altogether mistrust­full, he replyed as a friend, and so wisely as he glaunced from the marke Euphues shotte at, and hitte at last the white which Philautus set vp, as shal appeare hereafter. And thus he began.

MY sonnes (mine age giueth me the priuilege of that terme, and your honesties can-not refuse it) you are too young to vnderstande matters of state, and were you elder to knowe them, it were not for your estates. And therefore me thinketh the time were but lost, in pulling Hercules shooe vppon an Infantes foote, or in setting Atlas burthen on a childes shoulder, or to bruse your backes with the burthen of a whole king­dome, [Page] which I speake not, that either I mistruth you (for your reply hath fully resolued that feare) or that I mallice you (for my good wil may cleere me of that fault) or that I dread your might (for your small power cannot bring me into such a folly.) but that I haue learned by experience, that to reason of kings or Princes, hath euer bene much misliked of the wise, though much desired of fooles, especially where old men, which should be at their beads be too busie with the court, and young men which should follow their bookes, be too inquisitiue in y ^e affaires of princes. We shold not looke at y ^t we cannot reach, nor long for that we shold not haue, things aboue vs, are not for vs, & therfore are Princes placed vnder the gods, that they should not sée what they doe, and we vnder princes that we might not enquire what they doe. But as the foolish Eagle, that séeing the Sunne, coueteth to buylde hir nest in the Sunne, so fond youth, which viewing the glory and gorgiousnesse of the court, longeth to knowe the secretes in the court. But as the Eagle, burneth out hir eyes with that proude lust: so doth youth breake his hart with y ^e péeuish conceit. And as Satirus not knowing what fire was, would néedes imbrace it, and was bur­ned, so these fond Satiri, not vnderstanding what a prince is, runne boldly to meddle in those matters which they know not, and so féele worthely the heat they would not. And therfore good Euphues and Philautus content your selues with this, that to bée curious in thinges you shoulde not enquire off, if you knowe them, they appertaine not vnto you, if you knewe them not, they cannot hinder you. And let Appelles aunswere to Alex­ander, bée an excuse for me. When Alexander woulde néedes come to Appelles shop and paynt, Appelles pla­ced him at backe, who going to his owne worke, did not so much as cast an eye backe, to sée Alexanders deuices, which being well marked, Alexander said thus vnto him: Art. not thou a cum [...]inge Painter, and wilt [Page 19] thou not ouerlooke my picture, and tel me wherin I haue done well, & wher-in ill, whom he aunswered wisely, yet merely: In faith O king, it is not for Appelles to en­quire what Alexander hath done, neither if hée shew it me, to iudge how it is done, and therefore did I set your Maiestie at my backe, that I might not glaunce towards a kings work, & that you looking ouer my head, might sée mine, for Appelles shadowes are to be seene of Alexāder, but not Alexanders of Appelles. So ought we Euphues to frame our selues, in al our actions & deuices, as though the King stoode ouer vs to behold vs, & not to looke what the King doth behinde vs. For whatsoeuer he painteth, it is for his pleasure, & we must thinke for our profit, for Appelles had his reward though he saw not the worke.

I haue heard of a Magnifico in Millaine, (& I thinke Philautus you being an Italian doe remember it,) who hearing his sonne inquisitiue of the Emperours life, and demeanour, reprehended him sharply, saying: that it be­séemed not one of his house, to enquire how an Empe­rour lyued, vnlesse he himselfe were an Emperour: for that the behauiour and vsage of so honourable persona­ges are not to be called in question of euery one y ^t doub­teth, but of such as are their equalls.

Alexander being commaunded of Philip his Father to wrastle in the games of Olympia, aunswered he wold if there were a King to striue with him, whereby I haue noted (y ^t others seeme to inforce) that as Kings pastimes, are no playes for euery one: so their secrets, their coun­sayles, their dealyngs, are not to be either scanned or en­quired off any way, vnlesse of those that are in the lyke place, or serue the lyke person.

I can-not tell whether it be a Canterbury tale, or a Fable in Aesope, (but pretie it is, and true in my minde) That the Fore and the Woolfe, gooing both a filching for foode thought it best to see whether the Lyon were a sléepe or awake, least being too bolde they shoulde spéede [Page] too bad. The Foxe entring into the Kings denne (a King I call the Lyon,) brought word to the Wolfe, that hée was a sléepe, and went himselfe to his owne kenel, the Wolfe desirous to search in the Lyons denne, that hée might espy some fault, or steale some praye, entered bold­ly, whom the Lyon caught in his pawes, and asked what he would? y ^e silly Wolfe, (an vnapt terme for a Wolfe, yet fit being in a Lyons hands) aunswered, that vnder­standing by the Foxe, he was a sléepe, hée thought hée might be at lybertie, to suruey his lodging: vnto whom the princely Lyon with great disdayne though lyttle de­spite (for y ^t ther can be no enuy in a king) said thus: Dost thou thinke that a Lyon thy Prince and gouernour, can sleepe though he winke, or darest thou enquire whether he winke or wake? The Foxe had more craft then thou, and thou more courage (courage I wil not say, but bold­nesse: and boldnesse is to good, I may say desperatenesse) but you shall both well know, and to our griefes féele, that neither the wilynesse of the Foxe, nor the wildnesse of the Wolfe, ought either to sée or to aske, whether the Lyon either sléepe or wake, be at home or a-broade, dead or alyue. For this is sufficient for you to know, that ther is a Lyon, not where he is, or what he doth. In like mā ­ner Euphues, is the gouernment of a Monarchie (though homely be the comparison, yet apt it is) that it is neither the wise Foxe nor the malitious Wolfe, should venture so farre, as to learne whether the Lyon sléepe or wake in his denne. whether the Prince faste or feast in his court: but this should be their order, to vnderstande there is a King, but what he doth, is for the Gods to examine, whose ordinaunce he is, not for men, whose ouerséer he is. Then how vayne is it Euphues (too milde a word for so madde a minde) that the foote should neglect his office to correct the face, or that subiects should séeke more to know what their Princes doe, then what they are: where-in they shewe themselues as badde as beastes, and much worse [Page 20] then my Bées, who in my conceipt though I may séems partiall, obserue more order then they, (and if I might say so of my good Bées) more honestie: honestie my olde Graundfather called y ^t, when men liued by Law, not list: obseruing in all things the meane, which we name ver­tue, and Uertue we accompt nothing els, but to deale iustly and temperately.

And if I might craue pardon, I would a little acquaint you with the common wealth of my Bées, which is nei­ther impertinent to the matter we haue now in hande, nor tedious to make you weary.

Euphues delighted with the discourses of olde Fidus, was content to heare any thing, so he might heare him speake some thing, and consenting willinglye, he desired Fidus to goe forward: who now remouing himselfe née­rer to the Hyues, began as followeth.

GEntlemen, I haue for the space of this twentie yeres dwelt in this place, taking no delyght in any thing but onely in kéeping my Bées, & marking them, & this I finde, which had I not séene, I should hardly haue beleued, that they vse as great wit by indution, and Art by work­manship, as euer man hath or can, vsing betwéene them selues no lesse Iustice, then wisedome, & yet not so much wisdome as Maiestie: insomuch as thou wouldest think that they were a kinde of people, a common wealth for Plato, where they all labour, all gather Honny, flye alto­gether in a swarme, eate in a swarme, and sléepe in a swarme: so neate and finely, that they abhorre nothing so much as vncleannesse, drinking pure and cléere water, delyghting in swéete and sounde Musicke, which if they heare but once out of tune, they flye out of sight: & ther­fore are they called the Muses birds, bicause they followe not the sound so much as the consent. They lyue vnder a Law, vsing great reuerence to theyr Elder, as to the wiser.

[Page] They chuse a King, whose Pallaice they frame, both bra­uer in shew, and stronger in substaunce: whome if they finde to fall, they establish againe in his throne: with no lesse dutie then deuotion, garding him continually, as it were for feare he should miscarry, and for loue he should not: whom they tender with such faith and fauour, that whether soeuer he slyeth, they follow him, and if he can­not flye, they cary him: whose life they so loue, that they will not for his safetie sticke to dye, such care haue they for his health, on whom they build all their hope. If their Prince dye, they know not how to lyue, they languish, weepe, sigh, neither intending their worke, nor kéeping their olde societie. And that which is most meruaylous, and almost incredible: if there be any that hath disobeyed his commaundements, either of purpose or vnwittingly, he killeth himselfe with his owne sting as executioner of his owne stubbornnesse.

The King himselfe hath his sting, which he vseth ra­ther for houour then punishment: And yet Euphues, al­beit they lyue vnder a Prince, they haue their Priui­ledge, and as great lyberties, as streight lawes.

They cal a Parliament, wherin they consult for lawes, statutes, penalties, chusing Officers, and creating their King, not by affection, but reason, not by the greater part, but the better. And if such a one by chaunce be cho­sen (for among men sometimes the worst spéede best) as is bad, then is there such ciuill warre and dissention, that vntill he be pluckt downe, there can be no friendshippe: and ouerthrowne, there is no enmitie, not fighting for quarrells, but quietnesse.

Euery one hath his Office, some trimming the Hon­ny, some working the waxe, one framing biues, an other the combes, and that so artificially, that Dedalus could not with greater Art or excellencie, better dispose the or­ders, measures, proportions, distinctions, ioynts and cir­cles, Diuers hew, others polysh, all are carefull to doe [Page 21] their work so strongly, as they may resist the [...] of such drones, as seeke to liue by then labours, which maketh thē to kéepe watch & ward, as liuing in a camp to others, & as in a court to themselues. Such a care of chastitie, y ^t they neuer ingender, such a desire of cleannesse, that there is not so much as meate in all their hiues. Whē they go forth to work, they mark the wind, the clouds, & whatso­euer doth threaten either their ruine, or raigne, & hauing gathered out, of euery flower honny, they return loden in their mouthes, thighes, wings, and all the body, whō they that tarried at home receiue redily, as casting their backs of so great burthens.

The king himself not idle, goeth vp and down entrea­ting threatning, commaunding, vsing the counsel of a se­quell, but not loosing the dignitie of a Prince, preferring those that labour to greater authoritie, & punishing those that loyter with due seueritie. All which thinges being much admirable, yet this is most, that they are so profita­ble, bringing vnto man both honny & wax, each so whol­some, that we all desire it, both so necessaray, y ^t we cannot misse them. Here Euphues is a common wealth, which of­tentimes calling to my minde, I cannot chuse but com­mend aboue any y ^t either I haue heard or read off Wher­the king is not for euery one to talke off, where there is such homage, such loue, such labour, that I haue wished oftentimes rather be a Bée, then not be as I should be.

In this little garden with these hiues, in this house haue I spent the better part of my life, yea and the best: I was neuer busie in matters of state, but referring all my cares vnto the wisedome of graue Counsellors, & my confidence in the noble minde of my dread Souereigne & Quéene, neuer asking what she did, but alwayes praying she may do wel, not enquiring whether she might doe what she would, but thinking she would do nothing but what she might.

Thus contented with a meane estate, and neuer curi­ous [Page] of the high estate, I found such quiet, that mée think­eth, hée which knoweth least, liueth longest: insomuch that I chuse rather to be an Hermit in a caue, then a Counselour in the Court.

Euphues perceiuing olde Fidus, to speak what he thou­ght, answered him in these short woords. Hée is very obstinate, whome neither reason nor experience can per­swade: and truely séeing you haue alledged both, I must néeds allow both. And if my former request haue bred a­ny offence, let my latter repentance make amends. And yet this I knowe, that I enquired nothing that might bring you into daunger, or me into trouble: for as young as I am, this I haue learned, that one may point at a star but not pul at it, and sée a Prince but not serch him: & for mine owne part, I neuer meane to put my hand be­twéen the bark and the trée, or in matters which are not for mée, to be ouer curious.

The common wealth of your Bées, did so delight me, that I was not a little sory that either their estate haue not béene longer, or your leasure more, for in my simple iudgement, there was such an orderly gouernment, that men may not be ashamed to imitate them, nor you wea­rie to kéepe them.

They hauing spent much time in these discourses, were called into supper, Philautus more willing to eate, then heare their tales, was not the last that went in: where being all set downe, they were serued al in earthen dish­es, all thinges so neat and cleanely, that they perceiued a kinde of courtly Maiestie in the minde of their Hoste, though hée wanted matter to shew it in his house.

Philautus I know not whether of Nature melancho­ly, or féeling loue in his Bosome, spake scarce ten words since his comming into the house of Fidus.

Which the olde man wel noting, began merrely thus to parle with him.

[Page 22] I Meruaile Gentleman that all this time you haue been tongue-tied either thinking not your selfe wel­come, or disdaining so homely enterteinment: in the one you doo mée wrong, for I thinke I haue not shewed my self straunge, for the other you must pardon me, for that I haue not to doo as I would, but as I may: And though England be no graunge, but yéeldeth euery thing, yet is it héere as in euery place, all for money.

And if you will but accept a willing minde in stéed of a costly repast, I shal think my selfe beholding vnto you, and if time serue, or my Bees prosper, I will make you parte of amends, with a better breakfast.

Philautus thus replyed: I knowe good Father, my welcome greater then any wayes I can requite, and my chéer more bountifull then euer I shall deserue, & though I seeme silent for matters that trouble mée, yet I would not haue you thinke mée so foolish, that I should either disdaine your company, or mislike your chéere, of bothe the which I think so wel, that if time might answere my true meaning, I would excéed in cost, though in curtesie I know not how to compare with you, for (with out flat­terie be it spoken) if the common curtesie of England be no worse thē this towards straūgers, I must néeds think them happy that trauaile into these Coasts, and the In­habitants the most curteous of all Countries.

Heere beganne Euphues to take the tale out of Philau­tus mouth, and to playe with him in his melancholicke moode, beginning thus.

NO Father I durst sweare for my Fréend, that both hée thinketh himself welcome, and his fare good, but you must pardon a young Courtier, who in the absence of his Lady thinketh himself forlorne: And this vile Dog Looue will so rancle where hée biteth, that I feare my Friends sure, wil bréed to a Fistula: for you may perceiue [Page] that he is not where he liues, but wher he loues, & more thoughts hath he in his head, thē you Bées in your hiues: and better it were for him to be naked among your Was­pes, though his bodie were all blistered, then to haue his hart stong so with affection, wherby he is so blinded. But beléeue mée▪ Fidus, he taketh as great delight to course a cogitation of loue, as you do to vse your time w ^t Honny. In this plight hath he bene euer since his comming out of Naples, & so hath it wrought with him (which I hadde thought impossible) that pure loue did make him seasick, insomuch as in all my trauaile with him, I séemed to e­uery one to beare with me the picture of a proper man, but no liuing person, the more pitie, and yet no force.

Philautus taking Euphues tale by the end, and the old man by the arme betwéene griefe and game, iest & ear­nest, aunswered him thus.

EVPHVES would dye if he should not talke of loue once in a day, and therefore you must giue him leaue after euery meale to cloase his stomack w ^t loue, as with Marmalade, and I haue heard, not those that say nothing, but they that kicke oftnest against loue, are euer in loue: yet doth he vse me as the meane to moue the matter, & as the man to make his Myrrour, he himselfe knowing best the price of Corne; not by the market folkes, but his owne footesteps. But if he vse this speach either to make you merry, or to put me out of conceipt, he doth wel, you must thanke him for the one, and I wil think on him for the other. I haue oftentimes sworne that I am as farre from loue as he, yet wil be not beléeue me, as incredulous as those, who thinke none balde till they see his braynes. As Euphues was making answere, Fidus preuented him in this manner.

THere is no harme done Philautus, for whether you loue, or Euphues lest, this shall bréede no iarre. It [Page 23] may be when I was as young as you, I was as idle as you, (though in my opinion, ther is none lesse idle then a louer.) For to tel the truth I my self was once a courtier, in the dayes of that most noble king of famous memory Henry the eight, Father to our most gratious Lady Eli­zabeth.

Where, and with that, he paused as though the re­membraunce of his olde lyfe, had stopped his new speach: but Philautus itching to heare what he would say, desired him to goe forward, vnto whome Fidus fetching a great sigh, sayd, I will. And there againe made a full poynt. Philautus burning as it were, in desire of this discourse, vrged him again with great entreatie: then the olde man commaunded the boord to be vncouered, grace being sayd, called for stooles, & sitting by the fire, vttered the whole discourse of his loue, which brought Philautus a bed, and Euphues a sleepe.

And now Gentlemen, if you wil giue eare to the tale of Fidus it may be, some will be as watchful as Philau­tus, though many as drousic as Euphues. And thus he be­gan with a heauie countenaunce (as though his paines were present, not past) to frame his tale.

I Was borne in the wilde of Kent, of honest parents and worshipfull, whose tender cares, (if the fondnesse of Parents may be so termed) prouided all things euen from my very cradle, vntill their graues, that might ei­ther bring me vpp in good letters, or make me heire to great lyuings. I, (without arrogancie be it spoken,) was not inferiour in wit to many, which finding in my self, I flattered my selfe, but in the ende deceiued my selfe: For being of the age of xx. yeares, ther was no trade or kinde of life that either fitted my humour, or serued my tourne, but the Court: thinking that place the only meanes to climbe high and fit sure. Where-in I followed the vayne of young Souldiours, who iudge nothing swéeter then [Page] warre till they féele the weight, I was there enterteined as wel by the great friends my father made, as by mine own forwardnes, wher it béeing now but Honny moone I endeuoured to Courte it with a grace, (almost past grace) laying more on my backe, then my friends could wel beare, hauing many times a braue cloke and a thred bare purse. Who so conuersant with the Ladyes as I▪ who so pleasaunt? who more prodigall? Insomuch as I thought the time lost which was not spent either in their company with delyght, or for their company in letters. Among al the troup of gallant Gentlemen, I singled out one (in whome I mislyked nothing but his grauitie) that aboue all I ment to trust: who aswel for the good quali­ties he saw in me, as the little gouernment he feared in me, began one night to vtter these few words.

Friend Fidus (if Fortune allow a terme so familiar) I would I might lyue to sée thée as wise, as I perceiue thée wittie, then should thy lyfe be so seasoned as neither too much witte might make thée proud, nor too great riot poore. My acquaintance is not great with thy person, but such insight haue I into thy conditions, that I feare no­thing so much, as that, there thou catch thy fall, where thou thinkest to take thy rysing. There belongeth more to a Courtier then brauery, which the wise laugh at, or personage, which the chast marke not, or wit, which the most part sée not.

It is sober and discréet behauiour, ciuil and gentle deme­nour, that in court winneth both credit and commoditie, which counsel thy vnripened yeres, thinke to procéed ra­ther of the malyce of Age, then the good meaning.

To ride well is laudable, and I like it, to run at the tilt not amisse, and I desire it, to reuel much to be pray­sed, and I haue vsed it, which things as I knowe them all to be courtly, so for my part I accompt them necessa­rie, for where greatest assemblies are of noble gentlemen, there should be the greatest exercise of true Nobilitie. [Page 24] And I am not precise, but that I esteme it is as expedi­ent in feates of armes and actiuitie, to employ the body, as in studie to wast the minde: yet so should the one bée tempered with the other, as it might seeme as great a shame to be valiant and courtly without learning, as to be studious and bookish with-out valure.

But there is an other thing Fidus, which I am to warn thee off, and if I might to wreast thée from: not that I en­uye thy estate, but that I would not haue thée forget it. Thou bsest too much (a lyttle I thinke to be too much) to dally with women, which is the next waye to doate on thē. For as they that angle for the Tortois, hauing once caught him, are driuen into such a lythernesse, that they loose all their spirites, being benummed, so they that séeke to obtaine the good will of Ladyes, hauing once a lyttle holde of their loue, they are driuen into such a traunce, that they let goe the holde of their libertie bewitched like those that view the head of Medusa, or the Uiper tyed to the bough of the Béech trée, which kéepeth him in a dead sléepe, though it beginne with a swéete slumber.

I my self haue tasted new wine, and finde it to be more pleasant then wholesome, and Grapes gathered before they be rype, may set the eyes on lust, but they make the téeth an edge, and loue desired in the budde, not knowing what the blossome were, may delyght the conceiptes of the head, but it will destroye the contemplature of the heart.

What I speake now is of méere good will, and yet vppon small presumption, but in things which come on the so­deine, one cannot be to wary to preuent, or to curious to mistrust: for thou art in a place, either to make thée ha­ted for vice, or loued for vertue, and as thou reuerencest the one before the other, so in vprightnesse of lyfe shew it. Thou hast good friendes, which by thy lewde delights, thou maist make great enimies and heauy foes, which by thy well doing thou mayste cause to be earnest ar­bettors [Page] of thée, in matters that now they canuasse against thée. And so I leaue thée, meaning héereafter to beare the rayn of thy bridle in mine hands, if I sée thée head strong: And so he departed. I gaue him great thāks, & glad I was we wer parted: for his putting loue into my minde, was like the throwing of Buglosse into Wine, which increa­seth in him that drinketh it a desire of lust, though it mit­tigate the force of dronkennesse.

I now fetching a windlesse, that I might better haue a shoote, was preuented with ready game, which saued me some labour, but gained me no quyet. And I would gen­tlemen that you could féele the like impressions in your mindes at the rehearsall of my mishappe, as I did passi­ons at the entring into it. If euer you loued, you haue found the lyke, if euer you shal loue, you shal tast no lesse. But he so eager of an ende, as one leaping ouer a stile be­fore he come to it, desired few Parentheses or digressions, or gloses, but the text, wher he himself, was coating in the margent. Then sayd Fidus thus it fell out.

It was my chaunce (I know not whether chaunce or destenie) that being inuited to a banket wher many La­dyes were, and too many by one, as the ende tryed, though then too many by all, sauing y ^t one, as I thought, I cast mine eyes so earnestly vppon hir, that my heart vowed hir the mistres of my loue, and so fully was I re­solued to prosecute my determination, as I was earnest to begin it.

Now Gentlemen, I commit my case to your conside­rations, being wiser then I was then, and some-what as I gesse elder: I was but in court a nouice, hauing no friend but him before rehearsed, whome in such a mat­ter, I was lykelyer to finde a bridel, than a spurre. I ne­uer before that time coulde imagine what Loue should meane, but vsed the terme as a flout to others, which I found now as a feuer in my selfe, neither knowing from whence the occasion shoulde aryse, nor where I might [Page 25] séeke the remedy. This distresse I thought youth would haue worne out, or reason or time, or absence, or if not euery one of them, yet all. But as fire getting holde in the bottome of a trée, neuer leaueth till it come to the toppe, or as strong poyson Antidotum being but chafed in the hand, pearceth at the last the heart, so loue whiche I kept but lowe, thinking at my will to leaue, entred at the last so farre that it helde mée conquered. And then disputing with my selfe, I played this on the bit.

Fidus, it standeth thée vppon either to winne thy loue, or to weane thy affections, which choyce is so hard, that thou canst not tell whether the victorie will be the greater in subduing thy selfe, or conquering hir.

To loue and to liue well is wished of many, but in­cident to fewe. To liue and to loue well is incident to fewe, but indifferent to all. To loue without reason is an argument of lust, to liue without loue, a token of folly. The measure of loue is to haue no meane, the end to be euerlasting.

Thesius had no néede of Ariadnes thréed to finde the way into the Laborinth, but to come out, nor thou of a­ny helpe how to fall into these brakes, but to fall from them. If thou be witched with eyes, weare the eye of a Wesil in a ring, which is an enchauntment against such charmes, and reason with thy selfe whether there bée more pleasure to be accounted amorous, or wise. Thou art in the viewe of the whole court, where the ielous will suspecteth vppon euery light occasion, where of the wise thou shalt be accounted fond, and the foolish amo­rous: the Ladies themselues, how-soeuer they looke will thus imagine, that if thou take thought for loue, thou art but a foole, if take it lightly, no true seruant. Besides this thou art to be bound as it were an apprentice, ser­uing seuen yeares for that, which if thou winne, is lost in seuen houres, if thou loue thine equall, it is no conquest▪ if thy superiour, thou shalt be enuyed, if thine [Page] inferiour, laughed at. If one that is beautifull, hir cou­lour will chaunge before thou get thy desire: if one that is wise, she will ouer-reache thée so farre, that thou shalt neuer touch hir: if vertuous, she will eschue such fonde affection, if one deformed, she is not worthy of any affec­tion, if she be rich, she néedeth thée not: if poore, thou née­dest not hir: if olde, why shouldest thou loue hir, if young, why should she loue thée.

Thus Gentlemen I fed my selfe with mine owne de­uices, thinking by péece mea [...]e to cut off y ^t which I could not diminish, for the more I striued with reason to con­quer mine appetite, the more against reason, I was sub­dued of mine affections.

At the last calling to my remembrance, an old rule of loue, which a courtier then tolde me, of whom when I demaunded what was the first thing to winne my La­dy, he aunswered, Opportunitie, asking what was the second, he said Opportunitie: desirous to knowe what might be the thirde, he replyed Opportunitie. Which answeres I marking as one that thought to take mine ayme of so cunning an Archer, coniectured that to the beginning, continuing an ending of loue, nothing coulde be more conuenient then Opportunitie, to the getting of the which I applyed my whole study, and wore my wits to the stumps, assuring my selfe, that as there is a time, when the Hare will lycke the Houndes eare, and the fierce Tigresse, play with the gentle Lambe: so there was a certaine season when women were to be won, in the which moment they haue neither will to deny, nor wit to mistrust.

Such a time I haue read a young Gentleman found to obtaine the loue, of the Duchesse of Millayne: such a time I haue heard that a poore yeoman chose to get the fayrest Lady in Mantua.

Unto the which time, I trusted so much, that I solde the skinne before the Beast was taken, reckoning with­out [Page 26] mine hoast, and setting downe that in my bookes as readye money, which after wards I found to be a despe­rate debt.

IT chaunced that this my Lady (whom although I might name for the loue I bore hir, yet I will not for the reuerence I owe hir but in this story call hir If­fida) for to recreate hir minde, as also to solace hir bo­dy, went into the country, wher she determined to make hir abode for the space of thrée moneths, hauing gotten leaue of those that might best giue it. And in this iour­ney I founde good fortune so fauourable, that hir aby­ding was within two miles of my fathers mansiō house, my parents being of great familiaritie with the Gentle­man, where my Iffida lay. Who now so fortunate as Fi­dus? who so fralicke? She being in the countrey, it was no being for me in the courte? Where euery pa­stime was a plague, to the minde that lyued in melan­choly. For as the Turtle hauing lost hir mate wandreth alone, ioying in nothing but in solitarinesse, so poore Fi­dus in the absence of Iffida, walked in his chamber as one not desolate for lacke of companye, but despa­rate.

To make shorte of the circumstaunces, whiche holde you too long from that you woulde heare, and I faine vtter: I came home to my father, where at mine en­traunce, supper being set on the table, I espyed Iffida, Iffida Gentlemen, whome I founde before I sought, and lost before I wonne. Yet least the alteration of my face, might argue some suspition of my follyes, I, as courtly as I coulde, though God knowes but course­ly at that time behaued my selfe, as though nothing pay­ned me, when in truth nothing pleased me. In the middle of supper Iffida as wel for y ^e acquaintāce, we had in crout [Page] as also the courtesie the vsed in generall to all, taking a Glasse in hir hand filled with wine, dranke to me in this wise. Gentlemā I am not learned, yet haue I heard, that the Uine beareth thrée grapes, the first altereth, the second troubleth, the third dulleth. Of what grape this Wyne is made, I cannot tell, and therfore I must craue pardon, if either this draught chaunge you vnlesse it be to y ^e better, or grieue you, except it be for greater gaine, or dull you, vnlesse it be your desire, which long preamble I vse to no other purpose, then to warne you from wine hereafter, being so well counselled before. And with that she drin­king, deliuered me y ^e glasse. I now taking hart at grasse, to sée hir so gamesome, as merely as I could, pledged hir in this manner.

▪ Tis pittie Lady you want a pulpit, hauing preached so well ouer the pot, wherin you both shew the lear­ning which you professe you haue not, and a kind of Ioue which would you had: y ^e one apeareth by your long sermō, the other by y ^t desire you haue to kéep me sober, but I wil refer mine answere till after supper, & in the meane sea­son, be so tēperate, as you shal not think my wit to smel of the wine, although in my opinion, such grapes set ra­ther an edge vpon witte, then abate the point. If I may speake in your cast, quoth Iffida, (the glasse being at my nose) I think, wine is such a whetstone for wit, that if it be often set in that manner, it wil quickly grinde all the stéele out, and scarce leaue a backe wher it found an edge. With many like speaches we cōtinued our supper, which I will not repeat, leaste you should thinke vs Epicures to sit so long at our meate: but al being ended, we arose, where as the manner is, thankes & cursie made to each other, we went to the fire, wher I boldned now without blushing, tooke hir by the hand, & thus began to kindle y ^e flame which I shoulde rather haue quenched, séeking to blow a cole, when I should haue blowne out the candle.

[Page 27] GEntlewoman either thou thoughtes my wits verye short, that a sip of wine could alter me, or els yours very sharpe, to cut me off so roundly, when as I (with­out offence be it spoken) haue heard, that as déepe drinc­keth the Goose as the Gander.

Gentleman (quoth shée) in arguing of wittes, you mistake mine, and tall your owne into quession. For what I sayde procéeded rather of a desire to haue you in health, then of malyce, to wish you harme. For you well know that wine to a young bloud, is in the Spring time, Flare to fire, and at all times, either vn wholsome, or superfluous, and so daungerous, that more perishe by a surfet then the sword.

I haue hearde wise Clearkes saye, that Galen bée­ing asked what dyet he vsed that he lyued so long, aun­swered: I haue dronke no wine, I haue touched no wo­man, I haue kept my selfe warme.

Row sir if you will lycence me to procéede, this I thought, that if one of your yeres should take a dram of Magis, wherby consequently you should fal into an ounce of loue, and then vpon so great heat take a little colde, it were inough to cast you away, or turne you out of the way. And although I be no Phisition, yet haue, I been [...] vsed to attend sicke persons, where I founde nothing to hurt them so much as wine, which alwayes b [...] we with it, as the Adamant doth the yron, desire of women: how hurtful both haue béene, though you be too young to haue fryed it, yet you are olde inough to beléeue it.

Wine should be taken as the Dogs of Aegypt drinke water, by snatches, and so quench their thirst, and not hinder their running, or as the Daughters of Lysander vsed it, who with a droppe of wine tooke a spoonefull of water, or as the Uirgines in Rome, who drincke but their eye full, contenting themselues as much with the sight, as with the taste.

Thus to excuse my selfe of vnkindenesse, you haue [Page] made me almost impodent, and I you, (I feare me) im­patient, in séeming to prescribe a dyet where is no daun­ger, in giuing a preparatiue, when the body is purged. But seeing all this talke came of drinking, lette it ende with drinking.

I séeing myselfe thus ridden, thought either she should sit fast, or els I would cast hir. And thus I replyed.

Lady, you thinke to wade déepe where the Foorde is but shallow, and to enter into the secretes of my minde, when it lyeth open already, wherein you vse no lesse Art to bring me in doubt of your good wil, thē craft to put me out of doubt, hauing baited your hooke both with poyson and pleasure, in that, vsing the meanes of Phisicke (wher­off you so talke) mingling swéet sirops with bitter dregs. You stande in feare that wine should inflame my liuer, and conuert me to a louer: truely I am framed of that mettall, that I can mortifie any affections, whether it be in drinke or desire, so that I haue no néede of your Plai­sters, though I must néedes giue thankes for your paines.

And now Philautus, for I sée Euphues begin to nod, thou shalt vnder stande, that in the middest of my replye, my father with the rest of the company interrupted me, saying, they would fal all to some pastime, which bicause it groweth late Philautus, wée will deferre till the mor­ning, for age must kéepe a streight dyotte, or els a sicklye lyfe.

Philautus tickeled in euery veyne with delyght, was loath to leaue so, although not willyng the good olde man should breake his accustomed houre, vnto whome sléepe was the chiefest sustenaunce. And so waking Euphues, who had taken a nappe, they all went to their lodging, where I thinke Philautus was musing vppon the euent of Fidus his loue: But there I will leaue them in their beddes, till the next morning.

[Page 28] GEntlemen and Gentlewomen, in the discourse of this loue, it may séeme I haue taken a newe course: but such was the time then, that it was as straunge to loue, as it is now common, and then lesse vsed in the Court, then it is now in the Countrey: But hauing respect to the time past, I trust you will not condeu [...]pne my pre­sent time, who am inforced to sing after theyr Playne­song that was then vsed, and will follow héere-after, the Crochettes that are in these dayes cunningly han­deled.

For the mindes of Louers, alter with the mad moodes of the Musitions: and so much are they with-in sewe yeares chaunged, that we accompt their olde wooing and singing to haue so lyttle cunning, that we estéeme it bar­barous, and wer they liuing to heare our new quoyings, they would iudge it, to haue so much curiositic, that they would tearme it foolish.

In the time of Romulus, all heades were rounded of his fashion, in the time of Caesar, curled of his manner. When Cyrus lyued, euerye one praysed the hooked nose, and when he dyed, they allowed the straight nose. And so it fareth with loue, in times past, they vsed to wooe in playne tearmes, now in picked sentences, and he spéedeth best that speaketh wisest: euery one following the new­est way, which is not euer the néerest wape: some going ouer the stile, when the gate is open, an other kéeping the right beaten path, when he may crosse ouer better by the fieldes.

Euery one followeth his owne: fancie, which maketh diuers leape shorte, for want of good rising, and manye shoote ouer, for lacke of true ayme.

And to that passe it is come that they make an Arte of that, which was wont to be thought naturall: And thus it standeth that it is not yet determined, whether in loue Vlisses more preuayled with his witte, or Paris with his personage, or Achilles with his prowesse.

[Page] For euery of them haue Venus by the hand, and they are all assured and certeine to winne hir heart.

But I had almost forgotten the olde man, who vseth not to sléepe compasse, whom I sée with Euphues & Phi­lautus now already in the gardein ready to procéed with his tale: which if it séeme tedious, we will breake off againe when they goe to dinner.

FIdus callyng these Gentlemen vp, brought them into his garden, wher vnder a swéet Arbour of Eglantine, the birdes recording their swéete notes, he also strayned his olde pipe, and thus began.

GEntlemen yester night, I left off abruptly, and there­fore I must begin in the lyke manner.

My Father placed vs all in good order, requesting ei­ther by questions to whet our wits, or by storyes to try our memoryes, & Iffida y ^t might best ther be bolde, being the best in the company, & at al assayes too good for me, be­gan againe to preach in this manner. Thou art a Cour­tier Fidus, and therefore best able to resolue any questiō: for I know thy wit good to vnderstande, and readye to aunswere: to thée therefore I addresse my talke.

THere was some time in Sienna, a Magnifico, whom God blessed with thrée daughters, but by thrée wiues, and of thrée sundry qualyties: the eldest was very faire, but a very foole: the seconde meruaylous wittie, but yet meruailous wanton: the third as vertuons as any liuing, but more deformed then any that euer lyued.

The noble Gentleman their father, disputed for the bestowing of them with himselfe, thus.

I thanke the Gods, that haue giuen me thrée daugh­ters, who in their bosomes carry their dowries, insomuch as I shall not néede to disburse one Myte for all them mariages. Maidens be they neuer so foolysh, yet béeing [Page 29] faire they are commonly fortunate: for that men in these dayes haue more respect to the outward shew, then the in ward substaunce, wherein they imitate good Lapidaries, who chuse the stones that delyght the eye, measuring the value, not by the hidden vertue, but by the outwarde gli­stering: or wise Painters, who laye their best coulours, vpon their worst counterfeit.

And in this me thinketh Nature hath dealte indiffe­rently, that a foole whom euery one abhorreth, shold haue beautie, which euery one desireth: that the ercellency of the one, might excuse the vanitie of the other: for as wée in nothing more differ from the Gods, then when we are fooles: so in nothing do we come néere them so much, as when we are amiable. This caused Helen to be snatch­ed vp for a Starre, and Ariadne to be placed in the Hea­uens not that they were wise, but faire, fitter to adde a Maiestie to the Skie, then beare a Maiestie in Earth. Iu­no for all hir iealousie, beholding Iò, wished to be no Goddesse, so she might be so gallaunt. Loue commeth in at the eye, not at the care, by séeing Natures workes, not by hearing womens words. And such effects & plea­sure doth sight bring vnto us, that diuers haue liued by looking on faire and beautiful pictures, desiring no meat, nor hearkning to any Musicke. What made the Gods so often to trewant from Heauen & mych héere on earth, but beautie? What made men to imagine, y ^t the Firmament was god, but y ^e beautie? which is said to be witch the wise, and enchant them that made it. Pigmalion for beautie, loued an Image of Iuory, Appelles the counterfeite of Campaspe, and none we have heard off so sencelesse, that the name of beautie, cannot either breake or bende.

It is this only that Princes desire in their houses, Gar­deins, Orchards, and Beddes, following Alexander, who more estéemed the face of Venus not yet finished, then the Table of the nyne Muses perfected. And I am of that minde that there can be nothing giuen vnto mor­tall [Page] men by the immortall Gods, either more noble or more necessarie then beautie. For as when the counter­fait of Ganimedes, was showen at a market, euery one woulde faine buye it, bicause Zeuxis had therein shewed his greatest cunning: so when a beautifull woman ap­peareth in a multitude, euery man is drawne to sue to hir, for that the Gods (the onely Painters of beautie) haue in hir expressed, the art of their Deitie. But I wil héere rest my selfe, knowing that if I shoulde runne so farre as beautie woulde carry me I should sooner want breth to tell hir praises, then matter to proue them, thus I am perswaded, that my faire daughter shal be wel ma­ryed, for there is none, that will or can demaunde a greater ioynter then beautie.

My second childe is wittie, but yet wanton, whiche in my minde, rather addeth a delight to the man, then a disgrace to the mayde, and so lynked are those two qua­lyties together, that to be wanton without wit, is Apish­nes: and to be thought wittie without wantonnes, pre­cisenesse. When Lais being very pleasaunt, had tolde a merry iest: it is pittie saide Aristippus, that Lais hauing so good a witte, should be a wanton. Yea quoth Lais, but it were more pittie, that Lais shoulde be a wanton and haue no good witte. Osyris King of the Aegyptians, be­ing much delighted with pleasaunt conceiptes, would of­ten affirme, that he had rather haue a virgine, that could giue a quicke aunswere that might cut him, then a milde speach that might clawe him.

When it was obiected to a gentlewoman, that she was neither faire nor fortunate, & yet quoth she wise and wel fauoured, thinking it the chiefest gifte that Nature coulde bestowe to haue a Nutbrowne hue, and an excellent heade. It is witte that allureth, when euery worde shall haue his weight, when nothing shall pro­céede, but it shall either fauour of a sharpe conceipte, or a secreat conclusion. And this is the greatest thing to [Page 30] conceiue readely, and aunswere aptlye, to vnderstande whatsoeuer is spoken, and to replye as though they vn­derstoode nothing. A Gentleman that once loued a Ladie most entirely, walking with hir in a Parke, with a deepe sigh beganne to say, O that women could be con­stant, shée replyed, O that they coulde not, Pulling hir hat ouer hir heade, why quoth the Gentleman doth the Sunne offende your eyes, yea, aunswered shée the sonne of your mother, which quicke and readie replyes, being well marked of him, he was enforced to sue for that which he was determined to shake off. A noble man in Sienna, disposed to iest with a Gentlewomā of meane birth, yet excellent qualities, betwéene game and earnest gan thus to salute hir. I knowe not how I shoulde com­mend your beautie, bicause it is somwhat too brown, nor your stature being somewhat too low, & of your wit I can not iudge, no quoth she I beléeue you, for none can iudge of wit, but they that haue it, why then quoth he, doest thou thinke me a foole, thought is frée my Lorde quoth she, I will not take you at your wor [...]. He perceiuing all outward faults to be recompensed with inward fauour, chose this virgin for his wife. And in my simple opinion, hée did a thing both worthy his stocke and hir vertue. It is witte that florisheth, when beautie fadeth: that waxeth young when age approcheth, and resem­bleth the Iuie leafe, who although it be deade, continu­eth greene. And bicause of all creatures, the womans wit is moste excellent, therefore haue the Poets fayned the Muses to be women, the Nimphes the Goddesses, ensamples of whose rare wisdomes, and sharpe capaci­ties, wold nothing but make me commit Idolatry w ^t my daughter. I neuer hard but of thrée things which argued a fine wit, inuētion, cōceiuing, aunswering. Which haue all bene found so common in women, that were it not I shoulde flatter them, I shoulde thinke them singuler.

Then this sufficeth mée, that my seconde daughter [Page] shall not lead Apes in Hell, though she haue not a pen­ny for the Priest, bicause she is wittie, whiche bindeth weak things, and looseth strong things, and worketh all thinges, in those that haue either wit themselues, or loue wit in others.

My youngest though no pearle to hang at ones eare, yet so precious she is to a well disposed mind, that grace séemeth almost to disdaine Nature. She is deformed in body, flowe of speach, crabbed in countenaunce, and al­most in all parts crooked: but in behauiour so honest, in prayer so deuout, so precise in all hir dealings, that I neuer heard hir speake any thing that either concerned not good instruction, or Godly myrth.

Who neuer delyghteth in costlye apparell, but euer desyreth homely attyre, accompting no brauerye greater then vertue: who beholding hir vgly shape in a Glasse, smyling saide: This face were faire, if it were tour­ned: noting that the inward motions woulde make the outwarde fauour but counterfait. For as the precious stone Sandastra, hath nothing in outwarde appearaunce but that which séemeth blacke, but being broken pou­reth forth beames lyke the Sunne: so vertue sheweth but bare to the outward eye, but being pearced with in­warde desire, shineth like Christall. And this dare I a­uouch, that as the Trogloditae which digged in the filthy ground for roots, and found the inestimable stone Topa­son, which enritched them euer after: so he that séeketh after my youngest daughter, which is deformed, shall finde the great treasure of pietie, to comfort him during his life. Beautifull women are but like the Ermine, whose skinne is desired, whose carcasse is dispised, y ^e ver­tuous contrariwise, are then most lyked, when their skin is least loued.

Then ought I to take least care for hir, whome eue­ry one that is honest will care for: so that I will quyet my selfe with this perswasion that euery one shal haue a [Page 31] wooer shortly. Beautie cannot lyue without a husband, wit will not, vertue shall not.

NOw Gentleman, I haue propounded my reasons, for euery one I must now aske you the question. If it were your chaunce to trauaile to Sienna, and to sée as much there as I haue tolde you héere, whether woulde you chuse for your wife the faire foole, the wittie wanton, or the crooked Saint.

When she had finished, I stoode in a maze, séeing thrée hookes layed in one bayte, vncertaine to aunswere what might please hir, yet compelled to say somewhat, least I should discredit my selfe: But séeing all were whist, to heare my iudgement, I replyed thus.

LAdy Iffida, & Gentlewomen all, I meane not to trauel to Sienna to wooe Beautie, least in comming home the ayre chaunge it, and then my labour be lost: neither to seeke so farre for wit, least she accōpt me a foole, when I might spéede as well néerer hande, nor to sue to Uer­tue, least in Italy I be infected with vice: and so looking to get Iuppiter by the hande, I catche Pluto by the héele.

But if you will imagine that great Magnifico to haue sent his thrée Daughters into Englande, I would thus debate with them, before I woulde bargaine with them. I loue beautie wel, but I could not finde in my hart to marry a foole: for if she be impudent, I shall not rule hir: and if she be obstinate, she wil rule me, and my selfe none of the wisest, me thinketh it wer no good match, for two fooles in one bed are too many.

Wit of all things setteth my fancies on edge, but I should hardly chuse a wanton: for be she neuer so wise, if alwayes she want one when she hath me, I had as liefe she shoulde want me too, for of all my apparell I would haue my cappe sit close.

Uertue I cannot mislyke, which he thertoo I haue ho­noured, [Page] but such a crooked Apostle I neuer brooked: for vertue may well fat my minde, but it will neuer féede mine eye, and in mariage, as market folkes tell me, the husband should haue two eyes, & the wife but one, but in such a match it is as good to haue no eye, as no appetite.

But to aunswere of thrée inconueniences, which I would chuse, (although each threaten a mischiefe) I must néedes take the wise wanton, who if by hir wantonnesse, she will neuer want where she lykes, yet by hir wit she will euer conceale whom she loues, & to weare a horne and not know it, will do me no more harme, then to eate a Flye, and not sée it.

Iffida I know not whether stong with mine aunswer, or not content with my opinion, replyed in this māner.

Then Fidus, when you match, God sende you such a one as you lyke best: but be sure alwayes, y ^t your head be not higher then your hat. And thus faining an excuse departed to hir lodging, which caused all the companye to breake off their determined pastimes, leauing me per­plexed with a hundred contrary imaginations.

For this Philautus thought I, that either I did not hit the question which she would, or that I hit it too ful against hir will: for to say the truth, wittie she was, and somewhat merry, but God knoweth so farre from wan­tonnes, as my self was from wisdome, & I as farre from thinking ill of hir, as I found hir from taking me well.

Thus all night tossing in my bedde, I determined the next day, if any opportunitie wer offered, to offer also my importunate seruice. And found the time fit, though hir minde so froward, that to thinke of it my hart throb­beth, and to vtter it, will bléede freshly.

The next day I comming to the gallery, wher she was solytarily walking with hir frowning cloth, as sick late­ly of the sullens, vnderstanding my father to be gone on hunting, and all other the Gentlewomen either walked throade to take the ayre, or not yet readye to come out [Page 32] of their chambers, I aduentured in one ship to putte all my wealth, and at this time to open my long concealed loue, determining either to be a Knight as we say, or a knitter of cappes. And in this manner, I vttered my first speach.

LAdy, to make a long preamble to a short sute would séeme superfluous, and to beginne abruptly in a mat­ter of great waight, might be thought absurve: so as I am brought into a doubt whether I shoulde offende you with too many words, or hinder my selfe with too few. She not staying for a longer treatise, brake me off thus roundly.

Gentleman a short sute is soone made, but great mat­ters not easely graunted, if your request be reasona­ble, a word will serue, if not, a thousand will not suffice. Therefore, if there be any thing that I may doe you plea­sure in, sée it be honest, and vse not tedious discourses or colours of rhetorike, which though they be thought court­ly, yet are they not estéemed necessarye: for the purest Emerauld shineth brightest, when it hath no Dyle, and trueth delyghteth when it is apparayled worst.

Then I thus replyed.

FAyre Lady as I know you wise, so haue I found you courteous, which two qualyties méeting in one of so rare beautie, must foreshew some great meruayle, and works such effects in those that either haue heard of your praise or séene your person, that they are inforced to offer thēselues vnto your sernice, among the number of which your vassalls, I, though least worthye, yet most willyng, am nowe come to proffer both my lyfe to doe you good, and my ly [...]ings to be at your commaund, which franke offer procéeding of a faithful minde, can neither be refu­sed of your nor mislyked. And bicause I would cutte off speaches which might séeme to fauour, either of flatterie, or deceipte, I conclude thus, that as you are the first, [Page] vnto whom I haue vowed my loue, so you shall be the last, requiring nothing but a friendly acceptaunce of my seruice, and good-will for the reward of it.

Iffida whose right eare began to gloe, and both whose chéekes wared redde, either with cholar or bashfulnesse, tooke me vp thus for stumblyng.

GEntleman, you make me blush, as much for anger as shame, that séeking to praise me and profer your selfe, you both bring my good name into question, and your ill meaning into disdaine: so that thinking to present mée with your heart, you haue thrust into my handes the ser­pent Amphisbena, which hauing at each ende, a stinge, hurteth both wayes. You tearme me faire, and there-in you flatter, wise, and therein you meane wittie: courte­ous, which in other plaine words, if you durst haue vtte­red it, you would haue named wanton.

Haue you thought me Fidus, so lyght, that none but I could fit your loosenesse? or am I the wittie wanton, which you harped upon yesternight, that would alwayes giue you the sting in the head? you are much deceiued in me Fidus, and I as much in you? for you shall neuer finde me for your appetite, and I had thought neuer to haue tasted you so vnpleasaunt to mine. If I be amiable, I will doe those things that are fit for so good a face: if deformed, those things which shall make me faire. And howsoeuer I lyue, I pardon your presumption▪ knowing it to be no lesse common in Court, then foolish, to tell a faire tale to a foule Lady, where-in they sharpen, I con­fesse their wits, but shew as I thinke small wisedome, & you among the rest, bicause you would be accōpted court­ly, haue assayed to féele the veyne, you cannot sée, where­in you follow not the best Phisitions yet the most, who féelyng the pulses, doe alwayes saye it betokeneth an A­gue, and you séeing my pulses beat, pleasauntly iudge me apte to fall into a fooles Feuer, which least it happen to [Page 33] shake me héereafter I am minded to shake you off now, vsing but one request, wher I should séeke oft to reueng, that is, that you neuer attempt by worde or writing to sollicite your sute, which is no more pleasant to me, then the wringing of a streight shoe.

When she had vttered these bitter words, she was go­ing into hir chamber: but I that nowe had no staye of my selfe, began to stay hir, and thus againe to replye.

IPerceiue Iffida that where the streame runneth smoothest the water is déepest, and where the leaste smoake is there to be the greatest fire: and wher the mil­dest countenaunce is, there to be the melancholiest con­ceits. I sweare to thée by the Gods, and there she inter­rupted me againe, in this manner.

FIdus the more you sweare the lesse I beléeue you, for y ^t it is a practise in Loue, to haue as little care of their owne oathes, as they haue of others honours, imitating Iuppiter, who neuer kept oath he swore to Iuno, thinking it lawfull in loue to haue as small regard of Religion, as he had of chastitie. And bicause I will not feede you with delayes, nor that you shoulde comfort your selfe with triall, take this for a flatte aunswere, that as yet I meane not to loue any, and if I doe, it is not you, and so I leaue you. But once againe I stayed hir stepps be­ing nowe throughly heated as well with loue as with cholar, and thus I thundered.

IF I had vsed the policie that hunters doe, in cat­ching of Hiena, it might be also, I had nowe won you: but comming of the right side, I am entangled my selfe & had it ben on the left side, I should haue inueigled thée. Is this the guerdon for good will, is this the courte­sie of Ladies, the life of Courtiers, the foode of louers? Ah Iffida, little doest thou knowe the force of affection, & [Page] therefore thou rewardest it lightly, neither shewing cur­tesie lyke a Louer, nor giuing thankes like a Lady. If I shoulde compare my bloude with thy birth, I am as noble: if my wealth with thine, as rich: if confer quali­ties, not much inferiour: but in good will as farre aboue thee, as thou art beyond me in pride.

Doest thou disdaine me bicause thou art beautiful? why coulours fade, when courtesie flourisheth. Doest thou reiect me for that thou art wise? why wit hauing tolde all his cardes, lacketh many an ace of wisedome. But this is incident to women to loue those that leaste rare for them, and to hate those that most desire them, making a stacke of that, which they should vse for a sto­macher.

And séeing it is so, better lost they are with a little grudge, then found with much griefe, better solde for sor­row, then bought for repentaunce, and better to make no accompt of loue, then an occupation: Where all ones seruice be it neuer so great is neuer thought inough, when were it neuer so little, it is too much, When I had thus raged, she thus replyed.

FIdus you goe the wrong way to the Woode, in ma­king a gappe, when the gate is open, or in séeking to enter by force, when your next way lyeth by fauour. Wherein you followe the humour of Aiax, who loo­sing Achilles shielde by reason, thought to winne it a­gaine by rage: but it fell out with him as it doth com­monly with all those that are cholarike, that he hurt no man but himself, neither haue you moued any to offence but your selfe. And in my minde, though simple be the comparison, yet séemely it is, that your anger is like the wrangling of children, who when they cannot gette what they woulde haue by playe, they fal to crying, & not vnlyke the vse of foule gamsters who hauing loste the maine by true iudgment, think to face it out with a false [Page 34] oath, and you missing of my loue, which you required in sport, determine to hit it by spite. If you haue a commis­sion to take vp Ladies, let me sée it: If a priuiledge, let me know it: if a custome, I meane to breake it

You talke of your birth, when I knowe there is no difference of bloods in a basen, and as little doe I estéeme those that boast of their auncestours, and haue them­selues no vertue, as I do of those that crake of their loue and haue no modestie. I knowe Nature hath prouided, and I thinke our lawes allow it, that one may loue when they sée their time, not that they must loue when others appoint it.

Where as you bring in a rabble of reasons, as it were to binde mée agaynst my will, I aunswere that in all respectes I thinke you so farre to exdell me, that I cannot finde in my heart to match with you. For one of so great good will as you are, to encounter with one of such [...]eide as I am, were neither commendable nor con­uenient, no more then a patch of Fustion in a Damasi [...]e [...]oase.

As for my beauty and wit, I had rather make them better then they are, being now but meane by vertue, then worse then they are, which would then he nothing by loue.

Now where as you bring in (I. knowe not by what peoofe, for I thinke you were neuer so much of womens counsells (that there women best like, where they be least beloued, then ought they more to pittye vs, not to op­presse vs, séeing we haue neither frée will to chuse, nor fortune to enioy. Then Fidus since your eyes are so sharpe, that you cannot onely looke through a Milstone, but cleane through the minde, and so cunning that you can leuel at the dispositions of women whom you neuer knew, me thinketh you should vse the meane, if you de­sire to haue the ende, whiche is to hate those whome you would faine haue to loue you, for this haue you set for a [Page] rule (yet out of square) that woemen then loue moste, when they be loathed most. And to the ende I might stoope to your lure, I pray begin to hate me that I may loue you.

Touching your loosing and finding, your buying and selling, it much skilleth not, for I had rather you shoulde loose me so you might neuer finde me againe, then finde mee that I shoulde thinke my selfe lost: And rather had I be solde of you for a penny, then bought for you with a pounde. If you meane either to make an Art or an Oc­cupation of Loue, I doubt not but you shall finde worke in the Court sufficient: but you shall not knowe the length of my foote, vntill by your cunning you get com­mendation. A Phrase nowe there is which belongeth to your Shoppe boorde, that is to make loue, and when I shall heare of what fashion it is made, if I like the pat­torne, you shal cut me a partlet: so as you cut it not with a paire of left handed shéeres. And I doubt not though you haue marred your first loue in the making, yet by the time you haue made thrée or foure loues, you will proue an expert workman: for as yet you are lyke the Taylours boy, who thinketh to take measure before he can handle the shéeres.

And thus I protest vnto you, bicause you are but a young beginner, that I will helpe you to as much cu­stome as I can, so as you wil promise me to sow no false stitches, and when mine olde loue is worne threadbare, you shall take measure of a newe.

In the meaneseason do not discourage your self, Ap­pelles was no good Painter the first day: For in euerye occupation one must first endeauour to beginne: He that will sell lawne must learne to folde it, and he that will make loue, must learne first to court it.

As she was in this vaine very pleasaunt, so I thinke she woulde haue bene very long, had not the Gentlewoe­men called hir to walke being so saire a daye: then ta­king [Page 35] hir leaue very curteously she left me alone, yet tur­ning againe she sayd: will you not man vs Fidus, bée­ing so proper a man? Yes quoth I, and with-out asking too, had you ben a proper woman. Then smiling the said: you should finde me a proper woman, had you ben a pro­per work-man. And so she departed.

Now Philautus and Euphues, what a traunce was I left in, who bewailing my loue, was aunswered with hate: or if not with hate, with such a kinde of heate, as almost burnt the very bowells with-in me. What grea­ter discourtesie could there possiblye rest in the minde of a Gentlewoman, then with so many nippes, such bitter girdes, such disdainefull gliek [...]s, to aunswere him that honoured hir? What crueltie more vnfit for so comelye a lady, then to spur him that gallopped or to let him bloud in the hart, whose veyne she should haue staunched in the lyuer? But it fared with me, as with the hearbe Basill, the which the more it is crushed, the sooner it springeth, or the Rew, which the oftner it is cut, the better it grow­eth or the Poppy, which the more it is troden with the feete, the more it flourisheth. For in these extremities, beaten as it were to the ground with disdaine, my loue reacheth to the top of the house with hope, not vnlyke vnto a Trée, which though it be often felled to the harde roote, yet it buddeth againe, and getteth a toppe.

But to make an ende, both of my tale and my sor­rowes, I will procéede, onely crauing a lyttle patience, if I fall into mine olde passions: With that, Philautus came in with his spoake saying: in faith Fidus, me thin­keth I could neuer be weary in hearing this discourse, and I feare me the ende will be too soone, although I féele in my selfe the impression of thy sorrowes.

Yea quoth Euphues, you shal finde my friend Philau­tus so kinde hearted that before you haue done, hée will be farther in loue with hir, than you were: for as your Lady saide, Philautus will be bounde to make loue as [Page] warden of that occupation. Then Fidus: Well, God graunt Philautus better successe then I had, which was too badde. For my Father being returned from hun­ting and the Gentlewomen from walking, the table was couered and we al set downe to dinner, none more plea­saunt then Iffida, which would not conclude hir myrth, and I not melancholy, bicause I woulde couer my sad­nesse, least either she might thinke me to doate, or my Father suspect me to desire hir. And thus we both in ta­ble talke beganne to rest. She requesting me to bée hir Caruer, and I not attending well to that shée craued, gaue hir salt, which when she receiued, shée gan thus to replye.

IN sooth Gntle-man I seldome eate salte, for feare of anger, and if you giue it me in token that I want witte, then will you make me cholaricke, before I eate it: for women be they neuer so foolish, woulde euer bée thought wise.

I stayed not long for mine answere, but as wel quic­kened by hir former talke, and desirous to cry quittance for hir present tongue, said thus.

If to eate store of salte, cause one to fret, and to haue no salte fignifi [...] lacke of witte, then do you cause mée to meruaile, that eating no salt you are so captious, and louing no salt, you are so wise, when in deede so much wit is sufficient for a woman, as when she is in y ^e raine, can warne hir to come out of it.

You mistake your ayme quoth Iffida, for such a show­er may fall, as did once into Danaes lappe, and then that woman wer a foole that wold come out of it: but it may be your mouth is out of taste, therfore you were best sea­son it with salte. In déede quoth I, your aunsweres are so fresh, that without salte I can hardly swallow them. Many nips were returned that time betwéene vs, and some so bitter that I thought them to procéede rather of [Page 36] mallice to worke despite, than of mirth to shew disport. My Father very destrous to heare questions asked, wil­led me after dinner to vse some demaunde, which after grace I did in this sort.

Lady Iffida, it is not vnlikely but y ^t you can answere a question as wisely as the last night you asked one wi­lyly, & I trust you wil be as ready to resolue any doubt, by entreatie, as I was by commaundement. Ther was a Lady in Spaine, who after the decease of hir Father, had thrée sutors (& yet neuer a good Archer) the one excel­led in all giftes of the bodye, insomuch that there coulde be nothing added to his perfection, and so armed in all points, as his very lookes were able to pearce the heart of any Lady, especially of such a one, as séemed hir selfe to haue no lesse beautie then she had personage. For that as betwéene the similitude of manners, there is a friend­ship in euery respect absolute: so in the composition of the body, there is a certeine loue ingendred by one looke, wher both the bodies resemble each other, as wouen both in one loome.

The other hadde nothing to commende him, but a quicke wit, which he had alwayes so at his will, that no­thing could be spoken, but he would wrest it to his own purpose, which wrought such delight to this Lady, who was no lesse wittie than he, y ^t you woulde haue thought a marriage to be solemnized before the match could bée talked off. For there is nothing in loue more requisit or more delectable then pleasaunt and wise conference, nei­ther can there arise any storme, in loue, which by witte is not turned to a calme.

The third was a Gentleman of great possessions, large reuenewes, ful of money, but neither the wisest that euer enioyed so much, nor the properest that euer desired so much, he had no plea in his sute, but gylt, which rubbed wel in a hoat hande, is such a grease, as will supple a ve­ry hard heart. And who is so ignorant, that knoweth not [Page] golde to be a keye for euery locke, chiefly with his Lady, who hir selfe was well stored, and as yet infected with a desire of more, that she coulde not but lende him a good countenaunce in this match.

Now Lady Iffida, you are to determine this Spanish bargaine or if you please, we wil make it an English con­trouersie: supposing you to be the Ladye and thrée such Gentlemen to come vnto you a wooing, In faith who should be the spéeder.

GEntleman (quoth Iffida) you may aunswere your owne question by your own argument if you would, for if you conclude the Lady to be beautifull, wittie, and wealthy, then no doubt she will take such a one, as shold haue comelynesse of body, sharpnesse of wit, and store of riches: Otherwise, I would condempne that wit in hir, which you séeme so much to commend, hir selfe excelling in thrée qualyties, she shold take one, which was endued but with one: in perfect loue the eye must be pleased, the eare delyghted, the heart comforted: beautie causeth the one, with the other, wealth the third.

To loue onely for comelynesse, were lust: to lyke for wit onely, madnesse: to desire chiefly for goods, couetous­nesse: and yet can there be no loue without beautie, but we loath it: nor without wit, but we scorne it: nor with out riches, but we repent it. Euery floure hath his blos­some, his sauour, his sappe, and euerye desire, should haue to féede the eye, to please the wit, to maintaine the roote.

Ganimedes maye cast an amiable countenaunce, but that féedeth not: Vlisses tell a wittie tale, but that fat­teth not: Croesus bring bagges of golde, and that doth both: yet without the ayde of beautie he cannot bestow it, and without wit, he knowes not how to vse it So that I am of this minde, there is no Ladye but in hir choice will be so resolute, that either she will lyue a Uirgin, till [Page 37] she haue such a one, as shall haue all these thrée proper­ties, or els die for anger, if she match with one that wan­teth any one of them.

I perceiuing hir to stand so stifely, thought if I might to remoue hir footing, and replyed againe.

LAdy you nowe thinke by pollicie to start, where you bounde me to aunswere by necessitie, not suffering me to ioyne thrée flowers in one Nosegay, but to chuse one, or els to leaue all. The lyke must I craue at your hands, that if of force you must consent to any one, whe­ther would you haue the proper man▪ the wise, or the rich.

She as not without an answere, quickly requited me.

ALthough there be no force which may compell me to take any, neither a profer, whereby I might chuse al: Yet to aunswere you flatly, I woulde haue the wealthi­est, for beautie without ritches, goeth a begging, and wit without wealth cheapneth all thinges in the Faire, but buyeth nothing.

Truely Lady quoth I▪ either you speake not as you thinke, or you be far ouershot, for me thinketh, that hée that hath beautie, shal haue money, of ladyes for almes, and he that is wittie will gette it by crafte: but the rich hauing ynough, and neither loued for shape nor sence, must either kéepe his golde for those he knowes not, and spende it on them that cares not. Well aunswered If­fida, so many men, so many mindes, now you haue my o­piniō, you must not think to wring me from it, for I had rather be as all woemen are, obstinate in mine owne conceipt, then apt to be wrought to others constructions.

My father liked hir choyce, whether it were to flat­ter hir, or for feare to offend hir, or that he loued money himselfe better then either wit or beautie. And our con­clusions thus ended, she accompanyed with hir Gen­tlewomen and other hir seruauntes, went to hir Un­cles, [Page] hauing taried a day longer with my father then she appoynted, though not so many with me, as she was welcome.

Ah Philautus, what tormentes diddest thou thinke poore Fidus endured, who nowe felt y ^e flame euen to take full holde of his heart, and thinking by solytarinesse to driue away melancholy, and by imagination to forget loue, I laboured no otherwise then he that to haue his Horse stand stil, pricketh him with the spurre, or he that hauing sore eyes rubbeth them with salt water. At the last with continuall abstinence from meat, from compa­ny, from sléepe my bodie began to consume, and my head to ware idle, in so much that the sustenance whiche per­force was thrust into my mouth, was neuer disgested, nor the talke which came from my addle braines liked: For euer in my slumber me thought Iffida presented hir selfe, now with a coūtenaunce pleasant & merry, streight wayes with a coulour full of wrath and mischiefe.

My father no lesse sorrowfull for my disease; then ignorant of the cause, sent for diuers Phisitions, among the which there came an Italian, who féeling my pulses, casting my water, & marking my lookes, commaunded the chamber to be voyded, and shutting the doore applyed this medicine to my maladye. Gentleman there is none that can better heale your wounde then he that made it, so that you should haue sent for Cupid, not Aesculapius, for although they be both Gods, yet will they not meddle in each others office. Appelles will not goe about to a­mende Lisippus caruing, yet they both wrought Alexan­der: nor Hippocrates busie himselfe with Ouids art, and yet they both described Venus. Your humeur is to bée purged not by Apothecaries confections, but by the fol­lowing of good counsaile.

You are in loue Fidus? whiche if you couer in a close chest, will burne euery place before it burst the lock. For as we know by Phisick that poyson wil disperse it selfe [Page 38] into euery veyne, before it part the hart: so I haue hard by those that in loue could say somewhat, that it may­meth euery parte, before it kill the Lyuer. If therefore you wil make me priuie to all your deuises, I will pro­cure such meanes, as you shall recouer in short space, o­therwise if you séeke to conceale the partye, and encrease your passions, you shall but shorten your life, and so loose your loue, for whose sake you liue.

When I heard my Phisition so pat to hit my disease, I could not dissemble with him, least he shoulde bewray it, neither would I, in hope of remedy.

Unto him I discoursed the faithful loue, which I bore to Iffida, and described in euery perticuler, as to you I haue done. Which he hearing, procured within one day, Ladie Iffida to sée me, telling my father that my disease was but a consuming Feuer, which he hoped in short time to cure.

When my Lady came, and sawe me so altered in a moneth, wasted to the harde bones, more like a ghoast then a liuing creature, after many wordes of comfort (as women want none about sicke persons) when shée saw opportunitie, she asked me whether the Italian were my messenger, or if he were, whether his embassage were true, which question I thus aunswered.

LAdy to dissemble with the world, when I am depar­ting from it, woulde profite me nothing with man, and hinder me much with God, to make my death-bed the place of deceipt, might hasten my death, and encrease my daunger.

I haue loued you long, and nowe at the length must leaue you, whose harde heart I will not impute to dis­curtesie, but destinie, it contenteth me that I dyed in faith, though I could not liue in fauour, neither was I euer more desi [...]ous to beginne my loue▪ then I am nowe to ende my life. Thinges which cannot be altered are [Page] to be borne, not blamed: follyes past are sooner remem­bred then redressed, and time lost may well be repented but neuer recalled. I will not recounte the passions I haue suffered, I thinke the effect shewe them, and nowe it is more behooffull for me to fall to praying for a new life, then to remember the olde: yet this I adde (which though it merit no mercy to saue, it diserueth thanks of a friend) that onely I loued thée, and liued for thée, and now dye for thée. And so turning on my left side, I fet­ched a déepe sigh.

Iffyda the water standing in hir eyes, clasping my hand in hirs, with a sadde countenaunce aunswered me thus.

MY good Fidus, if the encreasing of my sorrowes, might mittigate the extremitie of thy sicknesse, I could be content to resolue my selfe into teares to ridde thée of trouble: but the making of a fresh woūd in my bo­dy, is nothing to the healing of a festred sore in thy bow­ells: for that such diseases are to be cured in the end, by the meanes of their Original. For as by Basil the Scor­pion is engendred, and by the meanes of the same hearb destroyed: so loue which by time and fancie is bred in an idle head, is by time and fancie banished from the hart: or as y ^e Salamander which being a long space nourished in the fire, at the last quencheth it, so affection hauing ta­ken hold of the fancie, and liuing as it were in the minde of the louer, in tract of time altereth and chaungeth the heate, and turneth it to chilnesse.

It is no small griefe to me Fidus, that I shoulde bée thought to be the cause of thy languishing, and can-not be remedy of thy disease. For vnto thée I will reueale more then either wisedome woulde allowe, or my mode­stie permit.

And yet so muche, as may acquite me of vngrati­tude towards thée, and ridde thée of the suspition concei­ued of me.

[Page 39] SO it is Fidus and my good friende, that about a two yeares past, there was in court a Gentleman, not vn­knowne vnto thée, nor I thinke vnbeloued of thée, whose name I will not conceale, leaste thou shouldest either thinke me to forge, or him not worthy to be named.

This Gentleman was called Thirsus, in all respects so well qualyfied, as had he not bene in loue with me, I should haue bene enamoured of him. But his hastinesse preuented my heat, who began to sue for y ^t, which I was ready to proffer, whose swéete tale although I wished it to be true, yet at the first I coulde not beléeue it: For that men in matters of loue, haue as many wayes to de­ceiue, as they haue words to vtter.

I séemed straight laced, as one neither accustomed to such suites, nor willing to entertain such a seruant, yet to warily, as putting him from me with my little finger, I drew him to me with my whole hand. For I stoode in a great mammering, how I might behaue my selfe, least béeing too coye, he might thinke me proude, or vsing too much curtesie he might iudge me wanton. Thus long time I held him in a doubt, thinking thereby to haue iust triall of his faith, or plaine knowledge of his falshoode. In this manner, I lead my life, almost one yeare, vntill w ^t often méeting, & diuers conferences, I felt my selfe▪ so wounded, that though I thought no heauen to my happe, yet I lyued as it wer in hell, til I had enioyed my hope. For as the trée Ebenus though it no way be set in a flame, yet it burneth with swéete sauours: so my minde though it could not be fired, for that I thought my selfe wise, yet was it almost consumed to ashes with pleasant delights & swéet cogitations: insomuch as it fared with me as it doth with y ^e trées, striken with thūder, which hauing the barkes sound are brused in the body, for finding my out­warde partes, with-out blemish, looking into my minde could not sée it without blowes.

I nowe perceiuing it high time to vse the Phisition, [Page] who was alwayes at hand, determined at the next mée­ting, to conclude such a faithful and inuiolable league of loue, as neither the length of time, nor the distaunce of place, nor the threatning of friendes, nor the spight of Fortune, nor the feare of death, shouldh either alter, or di­minish: which accordingly was then finished, and hath hetherto bene truly fulfilled.

Thirsus as thou knowest, hath euer since bene beyond the Seas, the remembraunce of whose constancie, is the onely comfort of my lyfe: neither doe I reioyce in any thing more, then in the faith of my good Thirsus.

Then Fidus, I appeale in this case to thy honestie, which shall determine of mine honour. Wouldest thou haue me inconstant to mine olde friend, and faithfull to a newe? Knowest thou not that as the Almond trée beareth most fruit when he is olde, so loue hath greatest faith when it groweth in age. It falleth out in loue, as if doth in vines, for the young Uines bring the most wine, but the olde the best: So tender loue maketh greatest showe of blos­somes, but tryed loue bringeth foorth swéetest iuyce.

And yet I wil say thus much, not to adde courage to thy attempts, that I haue taken as great delyght in thy company, as euer I did in anyes, (my Thirsus onely ex­cepted) which was the cause that oftentimes I would ei­ther by questions moue thée to talke, or by quarrells in­cense thée to cholar, perceiuing in thée a witte aunswe­rable to my desire, which I thought throughly to whette by some discourse. But wert thou in comelynesse Alex­ander, and my Thirsus, Thirsites, wert thou Vlysses, hée Mydas, thou Croesus he Codrus, I would not forsake him to haue thée, no not if I might there-by prolong thy lyfe, or saue mine owne: so fast a roote hath true loue taken in my heart, that the more it is digged at, the déeper it groweth the oftner it is cut, the lesse it bléedeth, and the more it is loaden the better it beareth.

What is ther in this vile earth that more commen­deth [Page 40] a woman than constancie? It is neither his witte, though it be excellent, that I estéeme, neither his birthe though it be noble, nor his bringing vp, which hath al­wayes bene courtlye, but onely his constancie and my faith, which no torments, no tyrant, not death, shall dis­solue. For neuer shall it be sayd, that Iffida was false to Thirsus, though Thirsus be faithlesse (which the Gods for­fend) vnto Iffida.

For as Amulius the cunning Painter so portrayed Minerua, that which way soeuer one cast his eye, shée al­wayes behelde him: so hath Cupide, so exquisitly drawn the Image of Thirsus in my heart, that what waye soe­uer I glaunce, me thinketh he looketh stedfastlye vppon me: insomuch that when I haue séene any to gaze on my beautie (simple God wot though it bée) I haue wished to haue the eyes of Augustus Caesar to dimme their sights with the sharpe and scortching beames.

Such force hath time and triall wrought, that if Thirsus should dye, I would be buryed with him, imita­ting the Eagle which Sesta a Uirgin brought vp, who séeing the bones of the virgin cast into the fire, threw him selfe in with them, and burnt himselfe with them. Or Hippocrates Twinnes, who wer borne together, laugh­ed together, wept together, and dyed together.

For as Alexander would be engrauen of no one man in a precious stone, but onely of Pergotales: so would I haue my picture imprinted in no heart, but in his, by Thirsus.

Consider with thy selfe Fidus, that a faire woman with out constancie, is not vnlyke vnto a gréene trée without fruit, resemblyng the Counterfait that Praxitiles, made for Flora, before the which, if one stoode directly, if séemed to wéepe, if on the left side to laugh, if on the other side to sléepe: wherby he noted the light behauiour of hir, which could not in one constant shaddow be set downe.

And yet for the great good will thou bearest mée, [Page] I cannot reiect thy seruice, but I wil not admit thy loue. But if either my friends, or my selfe, my goods, or my good will, may stande thée in stead, vse me, trust me, com­maunde me, as farre forth, as thou canst with modestie, and I may graunt with mine honour.

If to talke with mée, or continualye to bée in thy companye, maye in anye respecte satistic thy desyre, as­sure thy selfe, I will attende on thée, as dilygently as thy Nourse and bée more carefull for thée, than thy Phisiti­on. More I can-not promise with-out breache of my faith, more thou canst not aske, without the suspition of folly.

Héere Fidus take this Diamond which I haue heard olde women say to haue bene of great force against idle thoughts, vaine dreames, and phrenticke imaginations, which if it doe thée no good, assure thy selfe it can doe thée no harme, and better I thinke it against such inchaun­ted fantasies, then either Homers Moly, or Plynies Cen­taurio.

When my Lady had ended this straunge discourse, I was striken into such a maze, that for the space almost of halfe an houre, I laye as it had béene in a Traunce, mine eyes almost standing in my head without motion, my face without coulour, my mouth with-out breathe, insomuch that Iffida began to scritch out, and call com­panye, which called me also to my selfe, and then with a faint and trembling tongue, I vttered these words.

LAdy, I cannot vse as manye wordes as I would, bi­cause you see I am weake, nor giue so many thankes as I should, for that you deserue infinit. If Thirsus haue planted the Uine, I will not gather the Grapes, neither is it reason, that he hauing sowed w ^t payne, y ^t I shoulde reape the pleasure. This sufficeth me, and delighteth me not a lyttle, that you are so faithful and he so fortunate. Yet good Ladye lette me obtaine one small sute, which [Page 41] derogating nothing from your true loue, must néeds be lawfull, that is, that I may in this my sicknesse enioyo your company, and if I recouer, be admitted as your seruant: y ^e one wil hasten my helth, the other prolong my life. Shée curteously graunted both, and so carefully ten­ded me in my sicknesse, that what with hir merry spor­ting, & good nourishing, I began to gather vp my orumbos, and in short time to walk into a Gallery néere adioyning vnto my Chamber, where she disdained not to leade mée, and so at all times to vse mée, as though I had ven Thir­sus. Euery euening she wold put forth some pretie questi­on, or vtter some merry conceit, to driue me from me­lancholie. There was no broth that would dosun but of hir making, no meate but of hir dressing, no sléepe enter into mine eyes, but by hir singing, insomuch as she was both my Nurse, my Cooke, and my Phisition. Beeing thus by hir for the space of one moneth cherished, I wared strong as though I had neuer ben sike.

NOw Philautus iudge not parcially, whether was she a Lady of greater constancie towards Thirfus, or curtesie towards mée?

Philautus thus answered. Now surely Fidus, in my opinion, she was no lesse to be commended for kéeping hir faith inuiolable, then to be praised for giuing such almes vnto thée, which good behauiour differeth farre from the nature of our Italian Dames, who if they be constant they dispise all other that séeme to loue them.

But I long yet to heare the end for me thinketh a mat­ter begun with such a heate, should not ende with a bit­ter colde.

O Philautus, the ende in short and lamentable, but as it is haue it.

SHe after long recreating of hir selfe in the Countrie, repayred againe to the court, and so did I also, where [Page] I lyued (as the Elephant doth by Ayre) with the sight of my Lady, who euer vsing me in all hir secrets, as one y ^t she most trusted. But my ioyes were too great to last, for euen in the middle of my blisse, there came tydings to If­fida, that Thirsus was slaine by the Turkes, being then in paye with the King of Spaine, which battaile was so bloudy, that many Gentlemen lost their liues.

Iffida so distraught of hir wits, with these newes, fell into a phrēsie, hauing nothing in hir mouth but alwayes this Thirsus slaine, Thirsus slaine, euer doubling this speach, with such pitifull cryes and scritches, as it would haue moued the souldiers of Vlisses to sorrow. At the last by good kéeping, and such meanes as by Phisicke were prouided she came againe to hir selfe, vnto whom I wryt many letters to take pa [...]iently y ^e death of him, whose life could not be recalled, diuers she aunswered, which I wil shew you at my better leasure.

But this was most straunge, that no sute could allure hir againe to loue, but euer she lyued all in blacks, not once comming where she was most sought for. But with­in the terme of fiue yeares, she began a lyttle to lysten to myne olde sute, of whose faithfull meaning she had such tryall, as she coulde not thinke that either my loue was builded vpon lust, or deceipt.

But destinie cut of my loue, by the cutting of hir lyfe, for falling into a hot pestilent feuer, she dyed, and how I tooke it I meane not to tell it: but forsaking the Court presently, I haue here lyued euer since, and so meane vn­till death shall call me.

NOw Gentlemē I haue held you to long, I feare me, but I haue ended at the last. You sée what Loue is, begunne with griefe, continued with sorrow, ended with Death. A paine full of pleasure, a ioye replenyshed with misery, a Heauen, a Hell▪ a God, a Diuell, and what not, that either hath in it solace, or sorrow? Where she dayes [Page 42] are spent in thoughts, the nights in dreames, both in daū ­ger, either beguyling vs of that we had, or promising vs that we had not. Full of iealousie without cause, & voyd of feare when there is cause: and so many inconuenien­ces hanging vpon it, as to recken them all were infinite, and to tast but one of them, intollerable.

Yet in these dayes, it is thought the signes of a good wit, and the onely vertue peculyar to a courtier, for loue they say is in young Gentlemen, in clownes it is lust, in olde men dotage, when it is in all men, madnesse.

But you Philautus whose bloud is in his chiefest heate, are to take great care, least being ouer warmed, w ^t loue, it so inflame the liuer, as it driue you into a consumption. And thus the old man brought them into dinner, where they hauing takē their repast, Philautus aswell in y ^e name of Euphues as his owne, gaue this a unswere to the olde mans tale, & these or the like thanks for his cost and cur­tesie.

Father I thanke you no lesse for your talke which I found pleasant, then for your counsel, which I accompt profitable, & so much for your great chéere and curteous entertainmēt, as it deserueth of those that cannot deserue any▪ I perceiue in England the women & men are in loue constant, to straungers curteous, and bountifull in hospi­tality, y ^e two latter we haue tryed to your cost, y ^e other we haue heard to your paines, & may iustifie them all wher­soeuer we become to your prayses, & our pleasure. This onely we craue, that necessitie may excuse our boldnesse, and for amends we wil vse such meanes, as although we cannot make you gaine much, yet you shall loose lyttle.

Then Fidus taking Philautus by the hand, spake thus to them both.

GEntlemen and friendes, I am ashamed to receiue so many thanks for so small curtesie, and so farre off it is for me to looke for amēds for my cost, as I desire nothing [Page] more then to make you amends for your company, and your good wills in accompting wel of ill fare▪ onely this I craue, that at your returne, after you shalbe feasted of great personages, you vouchsafe to visite the Cottage of poore Fidus, where you shall be no lesse welcome then Iuppiter was to Bacchus: Then Euphues.

We haue troubled you too long, and high time it is for poore Pilgrimes to take the day before them, least be­ing be-nighted, they straine curtesie in an other place, and as we say in Athens, [...]she and gesse in thrée dayes are stale: Not-withstanding we will be bolde to sée you, and in the meane season we thanke you, and euer as we ought, we will pray for you.

Thus after many farewells, with as many welcomes of the one side, as thankes of the other, they departed and framed their steps towards London▪ And to driue away the time, Euphues began thus to instruct Philautus.

THou séest Philautus y ^e curtesie of England to surpasse, and the constancie (if the olde Gentleman tolde the trueth) to excell, which warneth vs both to be thankful for the benefits we receiue, and circumspect in behauiour we vse, least being vnmindfull of good turnes, we be ac­counted ingrate, and being dissolute in our liues, we be thought impudent.

When we come into London, we shall walke in the Garden of the worlde, where among many flowers wée shall sée some wéedes, swéete Roses and sharpe Nettles, pleasant Lillies and pricking Thornes, high Uines and lowe Hedges. All things (as the fame goeth) that may ei­ther please the sight, or dislike the smel, either séede the eye with delight, or fill the nose with infection.

Then good Philautus let the care I haue of thée be in stéede of graue counsell, and my good wil towards thée in place of wisdome.

I had rather thou shouldest walke among the beddes of wholesome Potte-hearbes, then the knottes of plea­saunt [Page 43] Flowers, and better shalt thou [...]nde it to gather Garlike for thy stomack, then a swéete Uiolet for thy sen­ces. I feare me Philautus, that séeing the amiable faces of the English Ladyes, thou wilt cast off all care both of my counsaile and thine owne credit. For well I knowe that a fresh coulour doth easely dim a quicke fight, that a swéet Rose doth soonest pearce a fine sent, that pleasaunt sirops doth chiefliest infect a delycate taste, that beautiful woemen doe first of all all [...]re them, that haue the wan­tonnest eyes and the whitest mouthes.

A straunge trée there is, called Alpina, which bring­eth forth the fairest blossomes of all trées, which the Bee either suspecting to be venomous, or misliking bicause it is so glorious, neither tasteth it, nor commeth néere it. In the like case Philautus would I haue thée, to imitate the Bee, that when thou shalt beholde the amiable blossomes of the Alpine trée in any woman, thou shun thē, as a place infected either with poyson to kil thée, or honny to deceiue thée: for it were more conuenient thou shouldest pul out thine eyes and liue without loue, then to haue them cléere and be infected with lust.

Thou must chuse a woman as the Lapidarie doth a true Saphire, who when he seeth it to glister, couereth it with Dyle, and then if it shine, he alloweth it, if not, he break­eth it: So if thou fal in loue with one that is beautiful, cast some kinde of coulour in hir face, either as it were misliking hir behauiour, or hearing of hir lyghtnesse, & if then she looke as faire as before, wooe hir, win hir, and weare hir.

Then my good Friend, consider with thy selfe what thou arte, an Italian, where thou arte, in Englande, whom thou shalt loue if thou fall into that vayne, an Aungell: let not the eye goe beyonde thy eare, nor thy tongue so farre as the féete. And thus I consure thée, that of all things, that thou refraine from the hot fire of affection.

[Page] For as the precious stone Autharsitis béeing throwne into the fire looketh black and halfe dead, but being cast into the water glistreth like the Sunne beames: so the precious minde of man once put into the flame of loue, is as it were vglye, and loseth his vertue, but sprinckled with the water of wisedome and detestation of such fond delights, it shineth lyke the golden rayes of Phoebus.

And it shall not be amisse, though my Phisicke be sim­ple, to prescribe a straight diot before thou fall into thine [...]lde disease.

First let thy apparell be but meane, neyther too braue to shew thy pride, nor to base to bewray thy pouertie, be as carefull to kéepe thy mouth from wine, as thy fingers from fyre.

Wine is the glasse of the minde, and the onely sauce that Bacchus gaue Ceres when he fell in loue: be not daintie mouthed, a fine taste noteth the fond appetites, that Ve­nus said hir Adonis to haue, who séeing him to take chie­fest delight in costly cates, smyling said this.

I am glad that my Adonis hath a swéete tooth in his head, and who knoweth not what followeth. But I will not wade to farre, seing heretofore as wel in my cooling card, as at diuers other times, I haue giuē thée a caueat, in this vanitie of loue, to haue a care: & yet me thinketh the more I warne thée, the lesse I dare trust thée, for I know not how it commeth to passe, that euery minute I am troubled in minde about thée.

When Euphues had ended, Philautus thus began.

EVphues, I thinke thou wast borne with this worde loue, in thy mouth, or that thou art bewitched with it in minde, for there is scarce thrée words vttered to mée, but the third is loue: which how often I haue answered thou knowest, and yet that I speake as I think, thou ne­uer beléeuest: either thinking thy selfe, a God, to [Page 44] know thoughts, or me worse then a Diuell, not to ac­knoweldge them. When I shall giue any occasion, warne me, & that I shold giue none, thou hast already armed me, so that this perswade thy selfe, I will sticke as close to thée as the soale doth to the shoe.

But truely I must néedes commende the curtesie of England, and olde Fidus for his constancy to his Ladye Iffida, and hir faith to hir friende Thirsus, the remem­brance of which discourse did often bring into my minde the hate I bare to Lucilla, who loued all and was not founde faithfull to any. But I lette that passe, leaste thou come in againe with thy fa-burthen, and hit me in the téeth with loue, for thou hast so charmed me, that I dare not speak any word that may be wrested to charity, least thou say, I meane loue, and in truth, I thinke there is no more difference betwéene them, then betwéene a Broome and a Besome.

I wil follow thy dyot and thy counsaile, I thank thée for thy good will, so that I wil now walke vnder the shadow & be at thy cōmaundemēt: Not so answered Euphues, but if thou followe me, I dare be thy warrant we will not offende much. Much talke there was in the way, which much shortned their way: and at last they came to Lon­don, where they met diuers straungers of their friends, who in small space brought them familiarly acquainted with certaine English gentlemen, who much delighted in the company of Euphues, whom they found both [...]ober & wise, yet somtimes merry & pleasant. They wer brought into all places of the Citie, & lodged at the last in a Mer­chaunts house, where they continued till a certaine breach.

They vsed continually the court, in the which Euphues tooke such delight that he accōpted all the prayses he hard of it before, rather to be enuious, then otherwise, & to be parcial, not giuing so much as it deserued, & yet to be par­doned bicause they coulde not. It hapned y ^t these English [Page] Gentlemen conducted these two straungers to a place, w [...]er diuers Gentlewomen were: some courtiers, others of the country: where being welcome, they frequented almost euery daye for the space of one moneth, entertai­ning of time in courtly pastimes, though not in the court, insomuch that if they came not, they were sent for, and so vsed as they had bene countrymen not straungers. Phi­lautus with this continuall accesse and often conference with gentlewomen, began to weane himselfe from the counsaile of Euphues, and to wed his eyes to the comli­nesse of Ladies yet so warily, as neither his friend could by narrow watching discouer it, neither did he by anye wanton countenaunce bewray it, but carying the Image of Loue, engrauen in the bottome of his hart, and the pic­ture of curtesie, imprinted in his face, he was thought to Euphues courtly, and knowen to himselfe comfortlesse. Among a number of Ladies he fixed his eyes vpon one, whose countenaunce séemed to promise mercy and threa­ten mischiefe, intermedling a desire of lyking, with a dis­daine of loue: shewing hir selfe in courtesie to be familiar with all, and with a certein comely pride to accept none, whose wit would commonly taunt without despite, but not without disport, as one that séemed to abhorre loue worse then lust, and lust worse then murther: of greater beautie then birth, and yet of lesse beautie then honestie, which gate hir more honor by vertue, then nature could by Art, or Fortune might by promotion, she was redy of aunswere, yet wary: shril of speach, yet swéete: in all hir passions so tēperate, as in hir greatest mirth none would think hir wanton, neither in hi [...] déepest griefe sullom, but alwayes to looke with so sober chéerefulnesse, as it was hardly thought where she were more commended for hir grauitie of the aged, or for hir courtlinesse of the youth: oftentimes delyghted to beare discourses of Loue, but euer desirous to bée instructed in Learninge: some­what curyous to héep [...] hir Beautie, which made hir comelye, [Page 45] but more carefull to increase hir credite, which made hir commendable: not adding the length of a haire to courtlynesse, that might detract the bredth of a haire from chastitie: In all hir talke so pleasant, in all hir lookes so amiable, so graue modesty ioyned with so wittie mirth, that they that were entangled with hir beautie, were inforced to preferre hir wit before their wils, and they that loued hir vertue, were compelled to preferre their affections before hir wisdome: whose rare qualy­ties, caused so straunge euents, that y ^e wise were allured to vanities, and the wantons to vertue, much like the ri­uer in Arabia, which turneth golde to drosse, and durt to siluer. In conclusion, there wanted nothing in this Eng­lish Angell that nature might ad for perfection, or For­tune could giue for wealth, or God doth commonlye be­stowe on mortall creatures: And more easie it is in the discription of so rare a personage, to imagine what shée had not, then to repeate all she had. But such a one shée was, as almost they al are that serue so noble a Prince, such Uirgins cary lightes before such a Vesta, such Nymphes, arrowes with such a Diana. But why goe I about to set hir in blacke and white, whome Philautus is now with all colours importraing in the Table of his heart. And surely I thinke by this he is halfe madde, whom long since, I left in a great maze.

Philautus viewing all these things, and more then I haue vttered (for that the louers eye perceth déeper) with drew himselfe secretly into his lodging and locking his dore, began to debate with himselfe in this manner.

AH thrice vnfortunate is he that is once faithfull, and better it is to be a mercilesse souldiour, then a true louer: the one lyueth by anothers death, the other dyeth by his owne lyfe. What straunge fits be these Philau­tus that burne thée with such a heat, that thou shakest for cold, and all thy bodye in a shiuering sweat, in a flaming [Page] Y [...]e, melteth like wax, & hardeneth like the Adamant? Is it loue? then would it were death: for likelyer it is that I should loose my life, then win my loue. Ah Camilla, but why doe I name thée, when thou dost not heare me, Camilla, name thée I will, though thou hate me. But alas y ^e sound of thy name doth make me sound for griefe. What is in me that thou shouldest not despise, & what is there not in thée that I should not wonder at. Thou a woman the last thing God made, & therefore the best. I a man that could not liue without thée, and therefore the worst. Al things were made for man, as a souereigne, and man made for woman as a slaue. O Camilla, woulde ei­ther thou hadst bene bred in Italy, or I in Englande, or woulde thy vertues were lesse then thy beautie, or my vertues greater then my affections.

I see that India bringeth golde, but Englande brée­deth goodnesse: And had not England béene thrust in­to a corner of the worlde, it would haue filled the whole worlde with woe. Where such women are as we haue talked of in Italy, heard of in Rome, reade of in Greece, but neuer found but in this Islande: And for my parte (I speake softly, bicause I will not heare my selfe) would there were none such here, or such euery where. Ah fonde Euphues my déere friende, but a simple foole if thou beléeue nowe thy cooling Carde, and an obstinate foole if thou doe not recant it. But it may be thou layest that Carde for the eleuation of Naples, like an Astrono­mer. If it were so I forgiue thée, for I must beléeue thée, if for the whole world. Behold England, where Camilla was borne, the flower of curtesie, the picture of comly­nesse: one that shameth Venus, being some-what fay­rer, but much more vertuous, and stayneth Diana bée­ing as chast, but much more amiable. I but Philau­tus, the more beautie she hath the more pride, and the more vertue the more precisenes. The Pecock is a birde for none but Iuno, the Doue, for none but Vesta: None [Page 46] must weare Venus in a Tablet, but Alexander, none Pallas in a ring but Vlisses. For as ther is but one Phoe­nix in the world, so is ther but one trée in Arabia, wher­in she buildeth, & as there is but one Camilla to be harde off, so is there but one Caesar that she wil like off. Why then Philautus, what resteth for thée but to dye with pa­tience, séeing thou maist not liue with pleasure. Whē thy disease is so daungerous, that the third letting of blood is not able to recouer thée, whē neither Ariadnes thrid, nor Sibillas vough, nor Medeas séede, may remedy thy griefe. Dye, dye, Philautus rather with a secret scarre, then an open scorne. Patroclus cannot maske in Achilles armour without a maime, nor Philautus in the Englishe Court without a mocke. I but there is no Pearle so harde but Uineger breaketh it, no Diamond so stony, but bloude mollyfieth, no heart so stiffe but loue weakeneth it. And what then? Bicause she may loue one, is it necessary shée should loue thée? Be there not infinite in Englande, who as farre excéede thée in wealth, as she doth all the Itali­ans in wisedome, and are as farre aboue thée in all qua­lyties of the bodye, as she is aboue them in all gifts of the minde? Doest thou not sée euerye minuite the noble youth of Englande frequent the Court, with no lesse courage then thou cowardise. If Courtlye brauerye may allure hir, who more gallaunt then they? If per­sonage, who more valyaunt? If witte, who more sharpe, if byrth, who more noble, if Uertue, who more de­uoute?

When there are all thinges in them that shoulde de­lyght a Ladye, and no one thing in thée that is in them, with what face Philautus canst thou desire, which they cannot deserue, or with what seruice deserue that, which so many desire before thée?

The more beautie Camalla hath, the lesse hope shouldest thou haue: and thinke not but the bayte that caught thée, hath beguiled other Englishe-men or [Page] now. Infants they can loue, neither so harde harted to despise it, nor so simple not to discerne it.

It is likely then Philautus that the Fox will lette the Grapes hang for the Goose, or the English-man bequeath beautie to the Italian? No no Philautus, as­sure thy selfe, there is no Venus but she hath hir Tem­ple, where on the one side Vulcan may knocke but Mars shall eater: no Sainct but hath hir shrine, and he that cannot wynne with a Pater Noster, must offer a penny.

And as rare it is to sée the Sunne without a light, as a faire woman without a louer, and as néere is Fancie to beautie, as the pricke to the Rose, as the stalke to the rinde, as the earth to the roote.

Doest thou not thinke that hourely shée is serued and sued vnto, of thy betters in byrth, thy equales in welth, thy inferiors in no respect.

If then she haue giuen hir faith, darest thou call hir honour into suspition of falshod?

If she refuse such vaine delights, wilt thou bring hir wisdome into the compasse of folly?

If she loue so beautifull a péece, then will she not bée vnconstant: If she vow virginity, so chast a Lady cannot be periured: and of two things the one of these must bée true, that either hir minde is already so weaned from loue, that she is not to be moued, or so setled in loue, that she is not to be remoued.

I but it may be, that so younge and tender a hearte hath not yet felt the impression of loue: I but it cannot be, that so rare perfection shoulde want that which they all wish, affection.

A Rose is swéeter in the budde then full blowne. Young twigges are sooner bent then old trées. White Snow sooner melted then harde Yce: whiche proueth that the younger she is, the sooner she is to bée wooed, and the fayrer she is, the likelier to be wonne.

[Page 47] Who will not runne with Atlanta, though he be lame? Who would not wrastle with Cleopatra, though he wer sicke? Who feareth to loue Camilla, though hée were blynde?

Ah beautie, such is thy force, that Vulcan courteth Ve­nus, she for comelynesse a Goddesse, he for vglynesse a di­uell, more fit to strike with a hammer in his forge, then to holde a Lute in thy chamber.

Whether dost thou wade Philautus, in launcing the wound thou shouldest taint, and prtcking the hart, which asketh a Plaister: for in decyphering what she is, thou hast forgotten what thou thy selfe art, and being dazeled with hir beautie, thou séest not thine owne basenesse.

Thou art an Italian poore Philautus, as much mislyked for the vice of thy Countrey, as she meruailed at, for the vertue of hirs, and with no lesse shame doest thou heare, than know with griefe, how if any Englishman be infec­ted with any misdemeanour, they say with one mouth, he is Italionated: so odious is that Nation to this, that the very man is no lesse hated for the name, then y ^e coun­trey for the manners.

O Italy I must loue thée, bicause I was borne in thée, but if the infection of the aire be such, as whosouer bréed in thée, is poysoned by thée, then had I rather be a Ba­stard to the Turke Ottomo, then heyre to the Emperour Nero.

Thou which héeretofore wast most famous for victo­ryes, art become most infamous by thy vices, as much disoained now for thy beastlynesse in peace, as once fea­red for thy battailes in warre, thy Caesar béeing turned to a Uicar, thy Consulls, to Cardinalls, thy sacred Se­nate of thrée hundred graue Counsaylours, to a shame­lesse Sinode of thrée thousand gréedy Caterpillers. Wher ther is no vice punished, no vertue praised, wher none is long loued if he doe not ill, where none shall be loued, if he doe well. But I leaue to name thy sinnes, which no [Page] Ciphers can number, and I would I were as frée from the infection of some of them, as I am farre from y ^e rec­koning of all of them, or would I were as much enuied for good as thou art pitied for ill.

Philautus would thou haddest neuer lyued in Naples or neuer left it. What new skirmishes doest thou nowe féele betweene reason and appetite, loue and wisedome, daunger and desire.

Shall I goe and attire my selfe in costlye apparayle, tush a faire pearle in a Murrians eare cannot make him white? Shal I ruffle in new deuices, with chaines, with Bracelettes, with Rings and Robes, tush the precious Stones of Mansolus Sepulcher can-not make the dead carcasse swéete.

Shal I curle my hayre, colour my face, counterfaite courtlynesse? tush there is no painting can make a pic­ture sensible. No no Philautus, either swallow the iuyce of Mandrake, which may cast thée into a dead sléepe, or chewe the hearbe Cheruell, which may cause thée to mi­stake euery thing, so shalt thou either dye in thy slomber, or thinke Camilla deformed by thy potion. No, I can­not do so though I would. But suppose thou thinke thy selfe in personage comely, in birth noble, in wit excellent, in talke cloquent, of great reuenewes: yet wil this one­ly be cast in thy téeth as an obloquye, thou art an Ita­lian.

I, but al that be blacke digge not for coles, all things that bréede in the mudde, are not Euets, all that are born in Italy, be not ill. She will not enquire what most are, but enquire what I am. Euery one y ^t sucketh a wolfe is not rauening, there is no countrey but hath some as bad as Italy, many that haue worse, none but hath some.

And canst thou thinke that an English Gentleman will suffer an Italian to be his Riuall? No, no, thou must ei­ther put vp a quarrell with shame, or trye the Combatte with perill.

[Page 48] An Englishman hath thrée qualyties, he can suffer no partner in his loue, no straunger to be his equall, nor to be dared by any. Then Philautus be as wary of thy life, as carefull for thy loue: thou must at Rome reuerence, Romulus, in Boetia, Hercules, in England those that dwel there, cls shalt thou not lyue there.

Ah Loue, what wrong doest thou me, which once be­guildest me w ^t that I had, and now beheadest me for that that I haue not. The loue I bore to Lucilla was colde water, the loue I owe Camilla, hot fire, the first was en­ded with defame, the last must begin with death.

I sée nowe, that as the resiluation of an Ague is de­sperate, and the second opening of a veyne deadly, so the renuing of loue, is, I know not what to terme it, worse then death, & as bad as what is worst. I perceiue at the last, the punishment of loue, is to lyue. Thou art héere a straunger without acquaintaunce, no friend to speak for thée, no one to care for thée, Euphues will laugh at thée, if he know it, and thou wilt wéepe if he know it not. O infortunate Philautus, borne in the wane of the Moone, & as lyke to obtayne thy wish, as the Wolfe to eate the Moone. But why go I about to quench fire with a sword, or with affection to mortifie my loue?

O my Euphues, would I had thy wit, or thou my wil. Shal I vtter this to thée, but thou art more likely to cor­rect my follies w ^t counsaile, then to comfort me with any prety cōceipt. Thou wilt say, y ^t she is a lady of great cre­dite, and I héere of no countenaunce. I but Euphues, low trées haue their toppes, small sparkes their heat, the flye his splene, the Ant hir Gall, Philautus his affection, which is neither ruled by reason, nor leade by appoint­ment. Thou broughtest me into England Euphues, to sée, and am blynde, to séeke aduentures and I haue lost my selfe, to remedye loue, and I am now past cure, much lyke Seriphuis, that olde Drudge in Naples, who coue­ting to heale his bleard eye, put it out. My thoughts are [Page] high, my fortune low, and I resemble that foolish Pilot, who hoyseth vp all his sayles & hath no winde, & laūceth out his ship & hath no water. Ah loue thou takest away my tast, & prouokest mine appetite, yet if Euphues wold be as willing to further me now, as he was once wilye to hinder me, I should thinke my selfe fortunate, and all that are not amorous to be fooles. There is a Stone in the floud of Thracia, that whosoeuer findeth it, is neuer after grieued, I would I had that stone in my mouth, or that my body were in that riuer, that either I might bée without griefe, or without lyfe.

And with these words, Euphues knocked at the dore, which Philautus opened, pretending drousinesse, and ex­cusing his absence by Idlenesse, vnto whome Euphues sayd.

WHat Philautus dost thou shun the Court to sléepe in a corner, as one either cloyed with delight, or hauing surfetted with desire, beléeue me Philautus, if the winde be in that doore: or thou so deuout to fall from beautie to thy beades, and to forsake the Court to liue in a cloy­ [...]ber. I cannot tel whether I should more wonder at thy fortune or prayse thy wisedome, but I feare me if I lyue to sée thée so holy, I shall be an olde man before I dye, or if thou dye not before thou be so pure, thou shalt be more meruayled at for thy yeares, then estéemed for thy ver­tues. In sooth my good friend, if I shoulde tary a yeare in England, I could not abide an houre in my chamber, for I know not how it cōmeth to passe, that in earth I think no other Paradise, such varietie of delyghts to allure a Courtlye eye, such rare puritie to drawe a well disposed minde, y ^t I know not whether they be in Englande more amorous or vertuous, whether I should thinke my time best bestowed in viewing goodly Ladyes, or hearing god­ly Lessons.

I had thought no woman to excel Liuia in the world, [Page 49] but now I sée that in England they be all as good, none worse, many better, insomuch that I am enforced to thinke, that it is as rare to sée a beautifull woman in England without vertue, as to sée a faire woman in Italy without pride. Curteous they are w ^tout coynes, but not without a care, amiable without pride, but not without courtlines: merry without curiositie, but not with-out measure, so that conferring the Ladies of Greece, with the ladies of Italy, I finde the best but indifferent, & com­paring both countries with the Ladies of England, I ac­compt them all starke naught.

And truelye Philautus thou shalt not shrine mée like a Ghostly father, for to thée I will confesse in two things my extreme folly, the one in louing Lucilla, who in comparison of these had no spark of beautie, the other for making a cooling carde against women, when I sée these to haue so much vertue, so that in the first I must acknowledge my iudgement rawe, to discerne shadows, and rash in the latter to giue so peremtorye sentence, in both I thinke my selfe, to haue erred so much, that I recant both, being readye to take any penaunce thou shalt enioyne me, whether it be a Faggot for Heresie, or a fine for Hipocrisie. An hereticke I was by myne inuectiue against women, and no lesse then an Hipocrite for dissembling with thée, for nowe Philautus I am of that minde that women, but Philautus [...]aking holde of this discourse, interrupted him with a sodaine reply, as followeth.

STAYE Euphues, I can leuell at the thoughtes of thy heart by the wordes of thy mouth, for that com­monly the tongue vttereth the minde, and the outward speach bewrayeth y ^e inward spirite. For as a good roote is knowen by a faire blossome, so is the substaunce of the heart noted by the shew of the countenaunce. I can sée day at a little hole, thou must halt cunningly if thou [Page] beguile a Cripple, but I cannot chuse but laugh to sée thée play with the baite, y ^t I feare thou hast swallowed, thinking with a Mist, to make my sight blinde, bicause I shoulde not perceiue thy eyes bleared, but in faith Eu­phues, I am now as well acquainted with thy conditi­ons as with thy person, and vse hath made me so expert in thy dealings, that well thou maist iuggle with the world, but thou shalt neuer deceiue mée.

A burnt childe dreadeth the fire, he that stumbleth twice at one stone is worthy to breake his shins, thou mayst happely sorsweare thy selfe, but thou shalt neuer delude me, I knowe thée nowe as readelye by thy vi­sard, as thy visage: It is a blinde Goose that knoweth not a Foxe from a Fearne-bushe, and a foolish fellowe that cannot discerne craft from conscience, being once cousened. But why shoulde I lament thy follyes with griefe, when thou séemest to coulour them with deceite. Ah Euphues I loue thée well but thou hatest thy selfe, and seekest to heape more harmes on thy heade by a little wit, then thou shalt euer claw off by thy great wisdome, all fire is not quenched by water, thou hast not loue in a string, affection is not thy slaue, thou canst not leaue when thou listest. With what face Euphues canst thou returne to thy vomit, seeming with the gréedy hounde to lap vp that which thou diddest cast vp, I am ashamed to rehearse the tearmes that once thou didest vtter of ma­lice against women, and art thou not ashamed nowe a­gaine to recant them? they must néeds thinke thée either enuious vpon small occasion, or amarous vppon a lighte cause, and then will they all be as readie to hate thée for thy spight, as to laugh at thée for thy loosenesse.

No Euphues so déepe a wound cannot be healed with so light a playster, thou maist by arte recouer the skin, but thou canst neuer couer the skarre, thou maist flat­ter with fooles bicause thou art wise, but the wise will euer marke thée for a foole. Then sure I cannot sée what [Page 50] thou gaynest if the simple condempne thée of flatterye, and the graue of folly. Is thy cooling Carde of this pro­pertie, to quench fire in others, and to kindle flames in thée? or is it a whetstone to make thée sharpe and vs blunt, or a sword to cut wounds in me and cure them in Euphues? Why didst thou write that against them thou neuer thoughtest, or if thou diddest it, why doest thou not follow it? But it is lawful for y ^e Phisition to surfet, for the shéepeheard to wander, for Euphues to prescribe what he will, and do what he lyst.

The sicke patient must kéepe a straight dyot, the sil­ly shéepe a narrowe folde, pore Philautus must beléeue Euphues and all louers (hée onelye excepted) are cooled with a carde of tenne, or rather fooled with a vayne toye. Is this thy professed puritie to crye peccauie? thinking it as great sinne to be honest, as shame not to be amo­rous, thou that diddest blaspheme the noble sex of wo­men without cause, dost thou nowe committe Idolatrie with them without care? obseruing as little grauitie then in thine vnbrideled furie, as thou dost nowe reason by thy disordinate fancie. I sée now that there is nothing more smooth then glasse, yet nothing more brittle, no­thing more fayre then snowe, yet nothing lesse firme, no­thing more fine then wit, yet nothing more fickle. For as Polypus vpon what rocke soeuer he lyteth, turneth himselfe into the same likenesse, or as the birde Piralis sitting vppon white cloth is white, vpon gréene, gréene, & chaungeth hir coulour with euery cloth, or as our chan­geable silke turned to the Sunne hath many coulours, and turned backe, the contrary, so wit shippeth it selfe to euerye conceit [...], being constant in nothing but incon­stancie.

Where is now the conference with Atheos, thy deuo­tion, thy Diuinitie? Thou sayest that I am fallen from beautie to my beades, and I sée thou art come from thy booke to beastlines, from coting of the scriptures, to cour­ting [Page] with Ladies from Paule to Ouid, from the Pro­phets to Poets, resembling the wanton Diophantus, who refused his mothers blessing to heare a songe, and thou forsakest Gods blessing to sit in a warme Sunne.

But thou Euphues thinkest to haue thy prerogatiue (which others will not graunt thée for a priuiledge) that vnder the colour of witte, thou maist be accounted wise, and being obstinate, thou art to be thought singuler.

There is no coyne good siluer, but thy halfepeny, if thy Glasse glister it must néedes be Golde, if thou speake a sentence it must be a lawe, if giue a censar, an oracle, if dreame, a Prophecie, if coniecture, a trueth: insomuch, that I am brought into a doubt, whether I shoulde more lament in thée the want of gouernement, or laugh at thy fained grauitie.

But as that rude Poette Cherilus hadde nothing to be noted in his verses, but onely the name of Alex­ander, nor that rurall Poet Daretus any thing to couer his deformed ape, but a white curtaine, so Euphues hath no one thing to shadow his shamelesse wickednesse, but onely a shewe of wit. I speake all this Euphues, not that I enuie thy estate, but that I pittie it, and in this I haue discharged the duetie of a friende, in that I haue not wincked at thy folly. Thou art in loue Euphues, contrary to thine oath, thine honour, thine honestie, nei­ther woulde any professing that thou doest liue as thou doest, whiche is no lesse griefe to me then shame to thée: excuse thou maist make to mée, bicause I am credu­lous, but amendes to the worlde thou canst not frame, bicause thou art come out of Greece, to blase thy vice in Englande, a place too honest for thée, and thou too disho­nest for any place. And this my flat and friendly dealing if thou wilt not take as I meane, take as thou wilt: I feare not thy force, I force not thy friendshippe: And so I ende.

Euphues not a little amazed with the discurteous [Page 51] speach of Philautus, whom he saw in such a burning Fe­uer, did not apply warme clothes to continue his sweat, but gaue him colde drinke to make him shake, either thin­king so straunge a maladye was to be cured with a de­sperate medicine, or determining to vse as lyttle arte in Phisicke, as the other did honestie in friendship, and ther fore in stéede of a Pill to purge his hoat bloude, he gaue him a choake-peare to stoppe his breath, replying as fol­loweth.

I Had thought Philautus, that a wound healyng so faire could neuer bréed to a Fistula, or a body kept so well from drinke, to a Dropsie: but I wel perceiue, that thy flesh is as ranke as the Wolues, who as soone as he is striken recouereth a skinne, but rankeleth inward­ly vntill it come to the lyuer, and thy stomacke as quea­sie, as olde Nestors, vnto whom pappe was no better than poyson: and thy body no lesse distempered than Hermogi­neus, whom abstinence from wine, made oftentimes drō ­ken. I see thy humour is loue, thy quarrell iealousie: the one I gather by thine addle head, the other by thy suspiti­ous nature: but I leaue them both to thy will, and thée to thine owne wickednesse: Pretely to cloke thine owne folly, thou callest me theese first, not vnlyke vnto a curst wife, who deseruing a checke, beginneth first to scolde.

Ther is nothing that can cure the Kings euills, but a Prince, nothing ease a pluriste but letting bloud, nothing purge thy humour but that which I can-not giue thée, nor thou get of any other, lybertie.

Thou seemest to colour craft by a friendly kindnesse, taking great care for my bondage, that I might not dis­trust thy follyes, which is, as though the Thrush in the cage, should be sory for the Nightingale, which singeth on the tree, or the Beare at the stake, lament the mishap of the Lyon in the forrest.

But in truth Philautus, though thy skin shew thée a [Page] Fore, thy lyttle skill tryeth thée a Shéepe. It is not the coulour that commendeth a good Painter, but the good countenaunce, nor the cutting that valueth y ^e Diamond, but the vertue, nor the glose of the tongue that tryeth a friend, but the saith. For as all coynes are not good that haue the Image of Caesar, nor all golde that are coyned with the Kings stampe, so al is not truth that beareth the show of godlinesse, nor all friends that beare a faire face: if thou pretend such loue to Euphues, cary thy heart on the backe of thy hand, and thy tongue in the palme, that I may sée what is in thy minde, and thou with thy fin­gers claspe thy mouth Of a straunger, I can beare much bicause I know not his manners, of an enimy more, for that all procéedeth of mallyce, al things of a friend, if it be to trye me, nothing if it be to betray me: I am of Sci­pios minde, who had rather that Hanniball shoulde eate his heart with salt, than Laelius grieue it with vnkinde­nesse: and of the like with Laelius, who chose rather to be slaine with the Spaniards, then suspected of Scipio.

I can better take a blister of a Nettle, than a prick of a Rose: more willing that a Rauen shoulde pecke out mine eyes, than a Turtle pecke at them. To dye of the meate one lyketh not, is better then to [...]urfette of that he loueth: & I had rather an enimy should bury me quicke, than a friend belye me, when I am dead.

But thy friendship Philautus, is like a newe fashion, which being vsed in the morning is accounted old before noone, which varietie of chaunging, being oftentimes no­ted of a graue Gentleman of Naples, who hauing bought a Hat of the newest fashion, and best blocke in all Italy, and wearing it but one day, it was told him that it was stale, he hung it vp in his studie, and biewing al sorts, al shapes, perceiued at the last his old Hat againe to come into the new fashion, where-with smilyng to himselfe he sayd, I haue now liued compasse, for Adams olde Apron, must make Eue a new Kirtle: noting this, that when no [Page 52] new thing could be deuised, nothing could be more newe than the olde.

I speake this to this ende Philautus, that I sée thée as often chaunge thy head, as others doe their hats, now being friend to Aiax, bicause he should couer thee with his buckler, now to Vlisses, y ^t he may pleade for thée with his eloquence, now to one, and now to an other, and thou dealest with thy friendes, as that Gentleman did with his felt, for séeing not my vaine aunswerable to thy va­nities, thou goest about (but yet the néerest way) to hang me vp for holy dayes, as one either fitting thy head, nor pleasing thy humour, but when Philautus thou shalt sée, that chaunge of friendships shal make thée a fat Calfe, & a leane Cofer, y ^t there is no more holde in a new friend, then a new fashion, that hats alter as fast as the Tur­ner can turne his blocke, and hearts as soone as one can tourne his backe, when seeing euery one retourne to his olde wearing, & finde it the best, then compelled rather for want of others than good will of me, thou wilt retire to Euphues whom thou laydst by the walls, & séeke him as a new friend, saying to thy self, I haue liued compasse, Euphues olde faith, must make Philautus a newe friend. Wherin thou resemblest those that at y ^e first comming of new Wine, leaue the olde, yet finding that Grape more pleasaunt then wholesome, they begin to say as Call [...]sti­nes did to Alexander, y ^t he had rather carrous old graines with Diogi [...]es in his dish, then new Grapes with Alex­ander in his standing cup, for of all Gods sayd he, I loue not Aesculapius.

But thou art willyng to chaunge, els wouldest thou be vnwilling to quarrell, thou kéepest onelye company out of my sight, with Reynaldo thy countreyman, which I suspecting cencealed, and now prouing it doe not care, if he haue better deserued y ^e name of a friend, than I, god knoweth, but as Achilles shteld, being lost on y ^e Seas by [Page] Vlisses, was tost by the Sea to the Tombe of Aiax, as a manifest token of his right: so thou being forsaken of Reynaldo, wilt be found in Athens by Euphues dore, as the true owner. Which I speake not as one loath to loose thée, but carefull thou loose not thy selfe. Thou thin­kest an Apple may please a childe, and euery odde aun­swere appease a friend: No Philautus, a Plaister is smal amends for a broken head, & a bad ercuse, will not purge an ill accuser.

A Friende is long a getting, and soone lost, lyke a Merchaunts riches, who by tempest looseth as much in two houres, as hée hath gathered together in twentie yeares. Nothing so fast knit as glasse, yet once broken, it can neuer be ioyned, nothing fuller of mettall than stéele, yet ouer heated it will neuer be hardened, friend­ship is the best pearle, but by disdaine throwne into vi­neger, it bursteth rather in péeces, then it will boowe to any softnesse. It is a salt Fish that water cannot make fresh, swéet honny that is not made bitter with gal, hard golde that is not to be mollyffed with fire, and a mira­culous friend that is not made an enemye w ^t contempt. But giue me leaue to examine the cause of thy discourse to the quicke and omitting the circumstaunce, I will to the substaunce.

The only thing thou layest to my charge is loue, and that is a good ornament, the reasons to proue it, is my praysing of women, but that is no good argument. Am I in loue Philautus? with whome it shoulde be, thou canst not coniecture, and that it shold not be with thée, thou gi­uest occasion.

Priamus began to be iealous, of Hecuba, when hée knew none did loue hir, but when he loued manye, and thou of me, when thou art assured I loue none but thou thy self euery one, but whether I loue or no, I cānot liue in quyet, vnlesse I be fit for thy dyet, wherein thou doest imitate Scyron and Procustes, who framing a bedde of [Page 53] brasse to their own bignes, caused it to be placed, as a lod­ging for al passengers, insomuch that none could trauel y ^e way, but he was enforced to take measure of their shéets: if he were too long for the bedde, they cut off his legs, for catching cold, it was no place for a longis: if to short they racked him at length, it was no pallet for a dwarfe: and certes Philautus, they are no lesse to be discommēded for their crueltie, then thou for thy folly. For in like manner hast thou built a bed in thine owne brains, wherin cuery one must be of thy length, if he loue, thou cuttest him shorter, either with some odde deuise, or graue counsell, swearing (rather then thou wouldest not be beléeued) that Protagines protraid Venus with a sponge sprinkled with swéete water, but if once she wrong it, it would droppe blood: that hir Iuorie Combe woulde at the first tickle y ^e haires, but at the last turne all the haires into Aoders: so that nothing is more hateful then loue. If he loue not, then stretchest out like a Wyre-drawer, making a wire as long as thy finger, longer then thine arme, pulling on with y ^e pincers with the Shoemaker a little shoe on a great foote, till thou cracke thy credite, as he doth his stit­ches, alleadging that loue followeth a good wit, as [...]he shadow doth the body, and as requisite for a Gentlemā, as steele in a weapon. A wit sayest thou without loue, is like an Egge without salte, and a Courtier voyde of affection, like salt without sauour. Then as one pleasing thy selfe in thyne owne humour, or playing with others for thine owne pleasure, thou rollest all thy wits to sifte Loue from lust, as the Baker doth the branne from the flower, bringing in Venus with a Torteyse vnder hir foote, as slow to harmes: hir Chariot orawen with white Swannes, as the cognisance of Vesta, hir Birds to bée Pigeons noting pietie: with as many inuentions to make Venus currant, as the Ladyes vse slights in Ita­ly to make themselues counterfaite.

Thus with y ^e Aegyptian thou playest fast or loose, so that [Page] there is nothing more certeine, then that thou wilt loue, and nothing more vncerteine then when, tourning at one time thy tayle to the winde, with the Hedg-hogge, & thy nose in the winde, with the Weather-cocke, in one gale both hoysing saile and weighing Anker, with one breath, making an Alarme and a Parly, discharging in the same instant, both a Bullet & a falfe fire. Thou hast rackt me, & curtald me, somtimes I was too lōg, somtimes too short, now too big, then too litle, so that I must néeds think thy bedde monstrous, or my body, either thy braynes out of temper, or my wits out of tune: insomuch as I can li­ken thy head to Mercuris pipe: who with one stoppe cau­sed Argus to stare and winke. If this fault be in thy na­ture, counsell can do little good, if in thy disease, phisicke canne doe lesse: for nature will haue hir course, so that perswasions are néedelesse, and such a malady in the Mar­rowe, will neuer out of the bones, so that medicines are bootelesse.

Thou sayest that all this is for loue, and that I being thy friend, thou art loth to wink at my folly: truely I say with Tully, with faire wordes thou shalt yet perswade me: for e [...]perience teacheth me, that straight trées haue crooked rootes, smooth baytes sharpe hooks, that the fayrer the stone is in the Toads head, y ^e more pestilent the poy­son is in hir bowells: that talke the more it is seasoned with fiue phrases, the lesse it sauoureth of true meaning. It is a mad Hare that will be caught with a Taber, and a foolish bird that stayeth the laying salt on hir taile, and a blind Goose that cōmeth to the Foxes sermon, Euphues is not intangled with Philautus charmes. If all were in iest, it was to broad weighing y ^e place, if in earnest to bad, consid [...]ring the persō, if to try thy wit, it was solly to be so hot, if thy friendship, mallice to be so hastie: Hast thou not read since thy cōming into England a pretie discourse of one Phialo, cōcerning the rebuking of a friend? Whose reasons although they were but few, yet were they suffi­cient, [Page 54] and if thou desire more, I coulde rehearse infinite. But thou art like the Epicure whose belly is sooner filled then his eye: For he coueteth to haue twentie dishes at his table, when he cannot disgest one in his stomacke, and thou desirest many reasōs to be brought, whē one might serue thy turne: thinking it no Rayne-bowe that hath all coulours, nor auncient armoury, that are not quarte­red with sundry coates, nor perfect rules that haue not a thousand reasons, and of al the reasons wold thou woul­dest follow but one, not to checke thy friend in a braue­rie, knowing that rebukes ought not to weigh a graine more of salt then suger: but to be so tempered as like pep­per they might be hoat in y ^e mouth, but like triacle whol­some at the heart: so shal they at the first make one blush if he were pale, and well considered better, if he were not past grace.

If a friende offende he is to bée whipped with a good Nurses rodde, who when hir childe will not be still, gi­ueth it together both the twig and the teate, and bringeth it a sleepe when it is wayward, aswell with rocking it as rating it.

The admonition of a true friend should be like the practise of a wise Phisition, who wrappeth his sharpe pils in fine Suger, or the cunning Chyrurgian, who laū ­ [...]ing y ^e wound w ^t an yron, immediatly applyeth to it soft lint, or as mothers deale with their children for wormes, who put their bitter séedes into swéete reasons, if this order had béene obserued in thy discourse, that enter­lasing sowre tauntes with sugred counsell, bearyng as well a gentle rayne, as vsing a harde snaffle, thou mightest haue done more with the whiske of a wande, then nowe thou canst with the pricke of a spurre, and auoyded that which now thou maist not, extreame vn­kyndenesse. But thou art lyke that kinde Iudge, which Propertius noteth, who condemning his friende, caused [Page] him for the more ease to be hanged with a silken twist. And thou like a friend cuttest my throat w ^t a Rasor, not with a hatchet, for my more honor. But why shold I set down the office of a friend, when thou like our Atheni­ans, knowest what thou shouldest doe, but like them, neuer dost it.

Thou saiest I eat mine own words in praysing women, no Philautus, I was neuer either so wicked, or so witlesse to recant truethes, or mistake coulours. But this I say, that the Ladyes in England as farre excell al other coun­tryes in vertue, as Venus doth all other woemen in beautie. I flatter not those of whome I hope to reape be­nefit, neither yet so prayse them, but that I think them women: there is no sword made of stéele but hath yron, no sire made of of wood but hath smoake, no wine made of grapes but hath léese, no woman created of flesh but hath faultes: And if I loue them Philautus, they deserue it.

But it gréeueth not thée Philautus that they be fayre, but that they are chast, neither dost thou like me y ^e worse for commending their beautie, but thinkest they wil not loue thée well, bicause so vertuous, where-in thou fol­lowest those, who better estéeme the sight of the Rose, then the sauour, preferring fayre wéedes before good hearbes, chusing rather to weare a painted flower in their Bosomes, then to haue a wholsome roote in their broathes, which resembleth y ^e fashion of your maidens in Italy, who buye that for the best cloth that will weare whitest, not that will last longest. There is no more praise to be giuen to a faire face their to a false glasse, for as the one flattereth vs with a vaine shaddow, to make us pronde in our owne coceiptes, the other féedeth vs with an idle hope to make vs péeuish in our owne con­templations. Chyrurgians affyrme, that a white vaine béeinge striken, if at the first there springe out bloud, it argueth a good constitution of Bodye: and I thinke if a faire Woeman hauing heard the suite of a [Page 55] Louer, if she blush at the first brunt, and shew hir bloud in hir face, sheweth a well disposed minde: so as vertuous women I confesse are for to be chosen by the face, not when they blush for the shame of some finne committed, but for feare she should commit any, all women shall be as Caesar would haue his wife, not onely frée from sinne, but from suspition: If such be in the English court, if I should not praise thē, thē wouldst thou say I care not for theyr vertue, and now I giue them thair commendation, thou swearest I loue them for their beautie: So that it is no lesse labour to please thy minde, than a sicke mans mouth, who can realish nothing by the taste, not that the fault is in the meate, but in his ma [...]a [...]y, nor thou liks of any thing in thy head, not that ther is any disorder in my sayings, but in thy sences, Thou dost last of al obi [...]ct that which silence might well resolue, that I am fallen from Prophets to Poets, and returned againe with the Dog to my vomit, which god knoweth is as faire from truth as I know thou art from wisedome▪

What haue I done Philautus, since my going from Naples to Athens, speake no more then the truth, vtter no lesse, flatter me not to make me better than I am, be­lye me not to make me worse, forge nothing of mallice, conceale nothing for loue: dyd I euer vse any vnséemely talke to corrupt youth? tell me where: did I euer deceiue those that put me in trust? tell me whome: haue I com­mitted anye fact worthy either of death or defame? thou canst not recken what: haue I abused my selfe towards my superiors, equalls, or inferiorse I thinke thou canst not deiuse when: But as there is no Wooll so white but the Diar can make blacke, no Apple so sweet but a cun­ning grafter can chaunge into a Crab: so is ther no man so boyd of crime that a spightful tongue cannot make him to be thought a caitife, yet commonly it falleth out so wel that the cloth weareth the better being dyed, & she Apple eateth pleas [...]ter being grafted, and the innocent is mo [...]e [Page] estéemed, and thriueth sooner being enuied for vertue, and belyed for mallice. For as he that stroke Iason, on the sto­mack, thinking to kil him, brake his impostume with the blow, wherby he cured him: so oftentimes it fareth with whose that deale malitiously, who in stéed of a sword apply a salue, and thinking to be ones Priest, they become his Phisition. But as the traytour that clippeth the coyne of his Prince, maketh of lighten to be wayed, not worse to be touched: so he that by sinister reports séemeth to pare the credite of his friend; may make him lyghter among the common sort, who by weight oftētimes are deceiued with counter faits, but nothing empayreth his good name with the wife, who trye all gold by the touch stone.

A straunger comming into the Capitol of Rome, séeing al the Gods to be engra [...]en, some in one stone, some in an other, at the last he perceiued Vulcan to be wrought in Iuory, Venus to be [...]arued in Ieate, which long time beholding with great delyght, at the last he burst out in these words, neither can this white Iuory Vulcan, make thée a white Smith, neither this faire woman Ieat, make thée a faire stone. Wherby he noted that no running could alter the nature of the one, nor no Nature transform the colour of the other. In lyke manner say I Philautus, al­though thou haue shadowed my guiltlesse life with a de­famed counterfait, yet shall not thy black Vulcan make either thy accusations of force, or my innorencie faultie, neither shal the white Venus which thou hast portrayed vpon the black Ieat of thy mallice, make thy conditions amiable, for Vulcan cannot make Iuory black, nor Ve­nus chaunge the colour of Ieat, the one hauing receiued such course by Nature, the other such force by vertue.

What cause haue I giuen thée to suspect me, & what occasion hast thou not offered me to detest thée? I was neuer wise inough to giue thée counsel, yet euer willing to wish thée wel, my wealth small to do thée good, yet re­dy to do my best: Insomuch as thou couldest neuer accuse [Page 56] me of any discourtesie, vnlesse it wet in being more care­full of thée, then of my selfe.

But as all floures that are in one Nosegaye, are not of one nature, nor all Kinges that are worne vpon one hand, are not of one fashion: so all friendes that as­sociate at bedde and at boord, are not of one disposition. Scipio must haue a noble minde, Loelius an humble spi­rite: Titus must lust after Sempronia, Gisippus muste leaue hir: Damon must goe take order for his landes, Pithias must tarry behinde, as a pledge for his lyfe: Philautus must doe what he will, Euphues not what he should.

But it may be that as the sight of diuers colours, make diuers beastes madde, so my presence doth driue thée in­to this melancholy. And seeing it is so, I will absent my selfe, hier an other lodging in London, and for a time giue my selfe to my booke, for I haue learned this by ex­perience, though I be young, that Bauilrs are knowen by their bandes, Lyons by their clawes▪ Cockes by their combes, enuious mindes by their manners.

Hate thee I will not, and trust thée I may not: Thou knowest what a friend should be, but thou wilt neuer lyue to trye what a friend is. Fare-well Philautus▪ I will not stay to heare thée replye, but leaue thée to thy lust. Euphues carryeth this Posie written in his hande, and engrauen in his heart. A faithfull friend is a wil­full foole. And so I taking leaue till I heare thée bet­ter minded, England shall be my abode for a season, de­part when thou wilt, and againe fare-well▪

Euphues in a great rage departed, not suffering Phi­lautus to aunswere one word, who stood in a maze, after the speache of Euphues, but taking courage by Loue, went immediatelye to the place where Camilla was dauncinge, and there wyll I leaue hym, in a thou­sand thoughtes, hammering in his heade, and Euphues [Page] séeking a new chamber, which by good friends he quickly got, and ther fell to his Pater noster, wher a while I will not trouble him in his prayers.

NOW you shall vnderstand that Philautus furthered as well by the opportunitie of the time, as the re­questes of certaine Gentlemen his friends, was entrea­ted to make one in a Masque, which Philautus perceiuing to be at the Gentlemans house wher Camilla laye, assen­ted as willingly to goe, as he desyred to spéede, and all things being in a readinesse, they went with spéede: where being welcommed they daunced, Philautus ta­king Camilla by the hand, and as tyme serued, began to boord hir on this manner.

IT hath bene a custome faire Lady, how commenda­ble I will not dispute how common you know, that Masquers doe therefore couer their faces that they may open their affections, and vnder the coulour of a daunte, discouer their whole desires: the benefite of which priui­ledge, I will not vse except you graunt it, neither can you refuse, except you breake it▪ I meane onely with questions to trye your Wit, which shall neither touch your honour to aunswere, nor my honestie to aske.

Camilla tooke him vp short, as one not to séeke how to reply, in this manner.

GEntleman, if you be lesse you are to bold, if so, to broad, in clayming a custome, wher there is no prescription. I know not your name bicause you feare to vtter it, nei­ther doe I desire it, and you seeme to be ashamed of your face, else would you not hide it, neither do I long to sée it: but as for any custome, I was neuer so superstitious, that either I thought it treason to breake them, or reason to kéepe them.

[Page 57] As for the prouing of my witte, I had rather you shoulde account me a foole by silence, then wise by aun­swering? For such questions in these assemblyes, moue suspition where there is no cause, and therefore are not to be resolued least there be cause.

Philautus who euer as yet but played with the baite was nowe stroke with the hooke, and no lesse delyghted to heare hir speake, then desirous to obtaine his suite, trayned hir by the bloud in his sort.

IF the patience of men were not greater then the peruersenesse of women, I shoulde then fall from a question to a quarrell, for that I perceiue you drawe the counterfaite of that I would say, by the conceite of that you thinke others haue saide: but whatsoeuer the colour be, the picture is as it pleaseth the Paynter: and whatsoeuer were pretended, the minde is as the hart doth intende. A cunning Archer is not knowne by his arrowe but by his ayme: neyther a friendly affecti­on by the tongue, but by the faith. Which if it be so, mée thinketh common curtesie shoulde allowe that, whiche you séeke to cut off by courtlye coynesse, as one either too young to vnderstande, or obstinate to ouerthwart, your yeares shall excuse the one, and my humour pardon the other.

And yet Ladye I am not of that faint minde that though I winke with a flashe of lightning, I dare not open mine eyes againe, or hauing once suffered a re­pulse, I should not dare to make fresh assault, he that striketh saile in a storme, hoyseth them higher in a calme, which maketh me the bolder to vtter that which you dis­daine to heare, but as the Doue séemeth angry, as though she had a gall, yet yéeldeth at the last to delight: so Ladies pretend a great skyrmish at the first, yet are boorded willingly at the last.

I meane therefore to tell you this which is all, that [Page] I loue you: And so wringing hir by the hand, he ended: she beginning as followeth.

GEntleman (I followe my first tearme) which shew­eth rather my modestie then your desart, seeing you resemble those which hauing once wet their féete, care not howe déepe they wade, or those that breaking the y [...]e, weigh not howe farre they slippe, thinking it law­full, if one suffer you to treade a wry, no shame to goe slipshood: if I shoulde say nothing then would you vaunt that I am wonne: for that they that are silent séeme to consent, if any thing, then woulde you boast that I woulde be wooed, for that castels that come to parlue, & woemen that delight in courting, are willing to yéelde: So that I must either heare those things which I would not, and séeme to be taught by none, or to hold you talke which I should not, and run into the suspition of others. But certainely if you knewe how much your talke dis­pleaseth me, and howe little it shoulde profite you, you would think the time as vainely lost in beginning your talke, as I accompt ouer long, vntill you end it.

If you build vpon custome that Maskers haue liber­tie to speake what they should not, you shall knowe that woemen haue reason to make them heare what they woulde not, and though you can vtter by your visarde whatsoeuer it be with-out blushing, yet cannot I heare it without shame. But I neuer looked for a better tale of so ill a face, you say a badde coulour may make a good countenaunce, but he that conferreth your disordered discourse, not your deformed attyre, may rightlye say that he neuer sawe so crabbed a visage, nor hearde so crooked a vaine. An archer say you is to bée knowne by his ayme, not by his arrowe: but your ayme is so ill, that if you knewe how farre wide from the white your shaft sticketh, you woulde heareafter rather breake your bowe, then bend it. If I be too young to vnderstande your [Page 58] destinies, it is a signe I cannot like▪ if too obstinate, it is a token I will not: therefore for you to be displeased, it either needeth not, or booteth not. Yet goe you farther, thinking to make a great vertue of your little valure, séeing that lightning may cause you wincke, but it shall not strick you blinde, that a storme may make you strike sayle, but neuer cut the mast, that a hotte skyrmish may cause you to retyre, but neuer to runne away: what your cunning is I knowe not, and lykely it is your cou­rage is great, yet haue I hearde, that he that hath esca­ped burning with lightning, hath bene spoyled with thunder, and one that often hath wished drowning, hath béene hanged once for all, and he that shrinketh from a bullette in the maine battaile, hath bene striken with a byll in the rerewarde. You fall from one thing to an o­ther, vsing no decorum, except this, that you studie, haue your discourse as farre voyde of sence as your face is of fauour, to the ende that your disfugured counte­naunce might supply the disorder of your ill couched sen­tences, among the which you bring in a Doue with­out a gall, as farre from the matter you speake off, as you are from the mastrye you woulde haue, who al­though she cannot be angrye with you in that shée hath no gall, yet can shée laugh at you for that shée hath a spléene.

I will ende where you beganne, hoping you will be­ginne where I ende, you let fall your question whiche I looked for, and pickt a quarrell whiche I thought not of, and that is loue: but let hir that is disposed to aunswere your quarrell be curious to demaunde your question.

And thus Gentle-manne I desire you all questions and other quarrelles set aparte, you thinke me as a friende, so farre forth as I can graunt with modestie, or you require with good manners, and as a friende I wish you, that you blowe no more this fire of loue, whiche [Page] will waste you before it warme me, and make a coale in you before it can kindle in me: If you thinke other­wise, I can aswell vse a shift to driue you off, as you did a shewe to drawe me on. I haue aunswered your custome, least you should argue me of coynesse, no other­wise then I might mine honour saued, and your name vnknowen.

By this time entered another Masque, but almoste after the same manner, and onelye for Camillas loue which Philautus quickly espyed, and séeing his Camilla to be courted with so gallaunt a youth, departed, yet with-in a corner, to the ende he might decypher the Gentleman whome he founde to bée one of the brauest youthes in all England, called Surius, then wounded with griefe, hée sounded with weakenesse, and going to his chamber began a freshe to recount his miseries in this sort.

Ah miserable and accursed Philautus, the very mon­ster of Nature and spectacle of shame, if thou liue thou shalt be dispised, if thou dye, not missed, if wooe, poynted at, if win, lothed, if loose, laughed at, bred either to liue in loue & be forsaken, or dye with loue & bée for­gotten.

Ah Camilla, woulde either I had bene borne without eyes not to sée thy beautie, or with-out eares not to heare thy witte, the one hath inflamed me with the desire of Venus, the other with the giftes of Pallas, both with the fire of loue: Loue, yea loue Philautus, then the which nothing canne happen vnto man more mise­rable. I perceiue nowe that the Chariot of the Sunne is for Phoebus, not for Phaeton, that Bucephalus will stoupe to none but Alexander, that none can sounde Mercurius pipe but Orpheus, that none shall win Ca­millas liking but Surius, a Gentleman, I confesse of grea­ter birth then I, and yet I dare say not of better faith. It is he Philautus y ^t wil fléete all the fat from thy bearde, [Page 59] insomuch as she will disdayne to looke vppon thée, if shée but once thinke vppon him. It is he Philautus, that hath wit to trye hir, wealth to allure hir, personage to entice hir, and all things, that either Nature or Fortune, can giue to winne hir.

For as the Phrigian harmony being moued to the Ca­lenes, maketh a great noyse, but being moued to Apollo, it is still and quyet: so the loue of Camilla desired of me, moueth I knowe not how many discords, but prooued of Surius, it is calme and consenteth.

It is not the swéete flower that Ladyes desire, but the fayre, which maketh them weare that in their heads, wrought foorthe with the Néedle, not brought foorthe by Nature: And in the lyke manner, they accompt of that loue, which Art can coulour, not that the heart doth con­fesse, wherein they imitate y ^e Maydens (as Euphues often hath told me) of Athens, who tooke more delyght to sée a fresh and fine colour, then to taste a swéete and whole­some siroppe.

I but how knowest thou that Surius faith is not as great as thine, when thou art assured thy vertue is no lesse then his? He is wise, and that thou séest, valyaunt, & that thou fearest: rich, and that thou lackest: fit to please hir and displace thée: and without spite be it sayd, worthy to doe the one, and willing to attempt the other.

Ah Camilla, Camilla, I knowe not whether I should more commend thy beautie or thy wit, neither can I tel whether thy lookes haue wounded me more or thy words. for they both haue wrought such an alteration in my spirits, that séeing thée silent, thy comelynesse maketh me in a maze, and hearing thée speaking, thy wisedome ma­keth me starke madde.

I, but things aboue thy height, are to be looked at, not reached at. I but if I should now ende, I had ben better neuer to haue begō. I, but time must weare away loue, I but time may winne it. Hard stones are pearced with [Page] soft drops, great Okes he wen down with many blowes, the stoniest heart mollified by continuall pers wasions, or true perseueraunce.

If desertes can nothing preuayle, I will practise de­ceipts, and what faith cannot doe, coniuring shall. What saist thou Philautus, canst thou imagine so great mischief, against hir thou louest? Knowest thou not, that fish caught with medicines, and women gotten with witchcraft are neuer wholesome? No, no, the Foxes wyles, shall neuer enter into the Lyons head, nor Medeas charmes into Philautus heart. I, but I haue heard that extremities are to be vsed, where the meane will not serue, and that as in loue there is no measure of griefe, so there should bée no ende of guyle, of two mischiefes the least is to be cho­sen, and therefore I thinke it better to poyson hir with the swéete baite of loue, than to spoyle my selfe with the bitter sting of death.

If she be obstinate, why should not I be desperate? if she be voyd of pittie, why should I not be voyd of pietie? In the ruling of Empires ther is required as great po­lycie as prowesse: in gouerning an Estate, close crueltie doth more good, than open clemencie, for the obteining of a kingdome, as wel mischief as mercy is to be practised. And then in the winning of my Loue, the verye Image of beautie▪ courtesie and wit, shall I leaue any thing vn­sought, vnattempted, vndone? He that desireth riches, must stretche the string that will not reache, and practise all kindes of getting. He that coueteth honour, and can-not clymbe by the Ladder, must vse all colours of lustinesse. He that thirsteth for Wine, must not care how he get it, but where he may get it, nor he that is in loue, be curious, what meanes he ought to vse, hut ready to attempt any: For slender affection doe I thinke that, which either y ^e feare of law, or care of religion, may di­minish. Fye Philautus, thine own words condempne thée of wickednes: tush y ^e passions I sustaine, are neither to [Page 60] be quyeted with counsaile, nor eased by reason: therfore I am fully resolued, either by Art to winne hir loue, or by despayre to loose mine owne lyfe.

I haue heard héere in London of an Italian cunning in Mathematicke, named Psellus, of whom in Italy, I haue heard in such cases can doe much by Magicke, and will doe all things for money, him will I assaye as wel with golde as other good tournes, and I think ther is no­thing that can be wrought, but shall be wrought for gylt or good will, or both.

And in this rage, as one forgetting where hée was, and whom he loued, he went immediatelye to séeke Phi­sicke for that, which onely was to be found by Fortune.

SEere Gentlemen you may sée, into what open sinnes the heate of Loue driueth man, especially, wher one louing is in despayre, either of his owne imperfection, or of his Ladies vertues, to be beloued again, which causeth man to attempt those things, that are contrarye to his owne minde, to Religion, to honestie.

What greater villany can ther be deuised, than to en­quire of Sorcerers, Southsayers, Coniurers or learned Clearkes, for the enioying of loue. But I will not refell that héere, which shall be confuted héereafter.

Philautus, hath soone found this Gentleman, who con­ducting him into his studdie, and demaunding of him the cause of his comming, Philautus beginneth in this man­ner as one past shame to vnfolde his sute.

MAster Psellus (and Countrey-man) I neither doubte of your cunning to satisfie my request, nor of your wisedome to conceale it, for were either of them wan­ting in you, it might turne me to trouble, and your selfe to shame.

I haue heard of your learning to be great in Magick, and some-what in Phisicke, your experience in both, to be exquisit, which caused me to séeke to you for a remedy [Page] of a certein griefe, which by your meanes may be eased or cls no wayes cured.

And to the ende such cures maye be wrought, God hath stirred vp in all times, Clearks of great vertue, and in these our dayes men of no small credite, among the which, I haue hearde no one, more commended than you, which although happely your modestie wil deny (for that the greatest Clearkes, doe commonly dissemble their kowledge) or your precisenes not graunt it, for that cun­ning men are often more daungerous, yet the world doth well know it, diuers haue tryed it, and I must néedes beléeue it.

Psellus not suffering him to raunge, yet desirous to know his arrant, aunswered him thus.

GEntleman and countrey-man as you say, & I beléeue, but of y ^e héereafter: if you haue so great confidence in my cunning as you protest, it may be, your strōg imagi­nation shal work y ^t in you, which my Art cānot, for it is a principle among vs, that a vehement thought is more auayleable, than the vertue of our figures, formes, or charecters. As for kéeping your counsayle, in things ho­nest, it is no matter, and in cases vnlawfull I will not meddle. And yet if it threaten no man harme and maye do you good, you shal finde my secrecic to be great, though my science be small, and therefore say on.

THere is not farre hence a Gentlewoman whome I haue long time loued, of honest parents, great ver­tue, and singular beautie, such a one, as neither by Arte I can describe, nor by seruice deserue: And yet bicause I haue heard many say, that where cunning must worke, the whole body must be coloured, this is hir shape.

She is a Uirgin of the age of eightéene yeares, of sta­ture neither too high nor too low, and such was Iuno: hir haire blacke, yet comelye, and such had Laeda: hir eyes [Page 61] has [...]ll, yet bright, and such were the lights of Venus.

And although my skill in Phisognomie bee small, yet in my iudgement she was borne vnder Venus, hir foreheade, nose, lyppes, and chinne foreshewing (as by such rules we gesse) both a desire to liue, and a good successe in loue. In complection of pure sanguine, in con­dition a right Saint, seldome giuē to play, often to pray­er, the first letter of whose name (for that also is necessa­ry) is Camilla.

THis Lady I haue serued long, and often sued vnto, insomuch that I haue melted like war against the fire, and yet lyued in the flame with the flye Pyrausta. O Psellus, the tormentes sustained by hir presence, the griefes endured by hir absence, the pyning thoughtes in the day, the pinching dreames in the night, the dy­ing life, the liuing death, the iealousie at all times, and the dispaire at this instant, can neither be vttered of me without flouds of teares, nor heard of thée with-out griefe.

No Psellus, not the tortures of hell are either to bée compared, or spoken off, in the respecte of thy tor­mentes: for what they all had seuerally, all that and more doe I féele ioyntly: Insomuch that with Sysiphus I rolle the stone euen to the toppe of the Hill, when it tum­bleth both it selfe and me into the bottome of hell, yet ne­uer ceasing, I attempt to renew my labour, which was begunne in death, and cannot end in life.

What dryer thirst could Tantalus endure then I, who haue almost euery houre the drinke I dare not taste, & the meate I cannot? Insomuch that I am torne vpon the whéele with Ix [...]on, my lyuer gnawne of the Vul­tures and Harpies: yea my soule troubled euen with the vnspeakable paines of Megaera, Tisiphone, Alecto, which secreate sorrowes although it were more méete to enclose them in a Laborinth, then to sette them on a [Page] Hill: Yet where the minde is past hope, the face is past shame.

It fareth with me Psellus as with the Ostrich, who pricketh none but hir selfe, which causeth hir to run whē she would rest: or as it doth with the Pelicane, who stri­keth bloud out of hir owne body to doe others good: or with the Wood Culuer, who plucketh off hir fethers in winter to kéepe others from cold: or as with the Storke, who when she is least able, tarrieth the greatest burthē. So I practise all thinges that may hurt me to doe hir good that neuer regardeth my paynes, so farre is she from rewarding them.

For as it is impossible for the best Adamant to draw yron vnto it if the Diamond be néere it, so is it not to be looked for, that I with all my seruice, suite, desarts, and what els soeuer that may draw a woman, should winne Camilla, as long as Surius, a precious stone in hir eyes, and an eye sore in mine, bée present, who loueth hir I knowe too well, and shée him I feare me, better, whiche loue will bréede betwéene vs such a deadly hatred, that being deade our bloude cannot be mingled together like Florus and Aegithus, and being burnt, the flames shall part like Polinices and Eteocles, such a mortall enmitie is kindled, that nothing can quench it but death: and yet death shall not ende it.

What counsell can you giue me in this case? what comfort? what hope?

When Acontius could not perswade Cydippe to loue, he practised fraud. When Tarquinius coulde not win Lu­cretia by prayer, he vsed force.

When the Gods coulde not obtaine their desires by suite, they turned them-selues into newe shapes, leauing nothing vndonne, for feare they shoulde be vn­done.

The disease of loue Psellus, is impatient, the [...] extreame, whose assaultes neither the wise can [...] [Page 62] by pollicie, nor the valiaunt by strength.

Iulius Caesar a noble Conquerer in warre, a graue Counsaylour in peace, after he had subdued Fraunce, Germanie, Britaine, Spaine, Italie, Thessalia, Aegypt, yea, entered with no lesse puissaunce then good fortune into Armenia, into Pontus, into Africa yéelded in his chiefest victories to loue Psellus, as a thing fit for Caesar, who cō ­quered all thinges sauing himselfe, and a déeper wound did the smal Arrow of Cupid make, then all the speares of his enimies.

Hanniball not lesse valiaunt in armes, nor more fortunate in loue, hauing spoyled Ticinum, Trebia, Tras­mena and Cannas, submitted himselfe in Apulia to the loue of a woman, whose hate was a terrour to al men, and became so bewitched, that neither the feare of death, nor the desire of glory, could remoue him from the lappe of his louer.

I omitte Hercules, who was constrayned to vse a distaffe for the desire of his loue. Leander, who ventured to crosse the Seas for Hero. Iphis that hanged him­selfe, Pyramus that killed himselfe, and infinite more, which could not resist the hot skirmishes of affection.

And so farre hath this humour crept into the minde, that Biblis loued hir brother, Myrra hir Father, Canace, hir nephew: Insomuch as there is no reason to be giuen for so straunge a griefe, nor no remedy so vnlawfull, but is to be sought for so monstrous a disease.

My disease is straunge, I my selfe a straunger, & my suite no lesse straunge then my name, yet least I be te­dious in a thing that requireth haste, giue eare to my tale.

I Haue hearde oftentimes that in Loue there are thrée thinges for to be vsed, if time serue, vio­lence, if wealth be great, golde, if necessitie compell, [...]orcerie.

[Page] But of these thrée but one can stande mée in stéede, the last, but not the least, which is able to worke the mindes of all women like war, when the other can scarse winde them like with. Medicines there are that can bring it to passe, & men there are that haue some by potions, some by verses, some by dreames, all by deceite, the cnsamples were tedious to recite, and you know thē, the meanes I come to learne, and you can giue them, which is the onely cause of my comming, and may be the occasion of my pleasure, and certainely the way both for your praise and profite.

Whether it be an enchaunted lease, a verse of Pythia, a figure of Amphion, a Charecter of Oschanes, an I­mage of Venus, or a braunch of Sybilla, it skilleth not.

Let it be either the séeds of Medea, or the bloude of Phillis, let it come by Oracle of Appollo, or by Prophe­cie, of Tyresias, either by the intrailes of a Goat, or what els soeuer I care not, or by all these in one, to make sure incantation and spare not.

If I winne my loue, you shall not loose your labour, and whether it redound or no to my greater peril, I wil not yet forget your paines.

Let this potion be of such force, that she may doat in hir desire, and I delight in hir distresse.

And if in this case you either reueale my suite or de­nye it, you shall soone perceiue that Philautus will dye as desperately in one minuite, as he hath liued this thrée monethes carefully, & this your studie shalbe my graue, if by your study you ease not my griefe.

When he had thus ended, he looked so sternly vppon Psellus, that he wished him farther off, yet taking him by the hand, and walking into his chamber, this good man began thus to aunswere him.

GEntleman, if the inwarde spirite be aunswerable to the outwarde speach, or the thoughts of your heart [Page 63] agréeable to the words of your mouth, you shal bréede to your selfe great discredit, and to me no small disquiet. Doe you thinke Gentleman, that the minde being crea­ted of God, can be ruled by man, or that anye one canne moue the hart but he that made the hart? But such hath bene the superstition of olde women, & such the folly of young men, that there could be nothing so vayne, but the one woulde inuent, nor anye thing so sencelesse but the other would beléeue: which then brought youth into a fooles paradise, and hath now cast age into an open moc­kage.

What the force of loue is, I haue knowen, what the effects haue bene, I haue heard, yet could I neuer learne that euer loue could be wonne, by the vertues of hearbs, stones or words. And though manye there haue bene so wicked to séeke such meanes, yet was ther neuer any so vnhappy to finde them.

Parrhasius paynting Hopplitides, could neither make him that ran to sweat, nor the other y ^t put off his armour to breath, adding this as it were for a note, No farther than colours: meaning that to giue lyfe, was not in his Pencill, but in the Gods.

And the lyke may be said of vs, that giue our mindes to know the course of the Starres, the Plannets, the whole Globe of Heauen, the Simples, the Compoundes, the bowells of the Earth, that some-thing we may gess [...] by the outward shape, some-thing by the Natiuitie: but to wrest the will of man, or to wreath his hearte to our humours, it is not in the compasse of Arte, but in the po­wer of the most highest.

But for bicause ther haue ben many without doubt, that haue giuen credite to the vayne illusions of Witch­es or the fonde inuentions of idle persons, I will sette downe such reasons as I haue heard and you wil laugh at, so I hope I shall both satisfie your minde, and make you a lyttle merry, for me thinketh there is nothing that [Page] can more delyght, then to heare the thinges which haue no wayghte, to bée thought to haue wronghte won­ders.

If you take Pepper, the séede of a Nettle, and a lyt­tle quantitie of Pyretum, beaten or pounded altogether, and put into Wine of two yeares olde, whensoeuer you drinke to Camilla, if she loue you not, you loose your la­bour. The cost is small, but if your beliefe be constant, you winne the goale, for this Receipt, standeth in a strōg conceipt.

Egges and Honny blended with the Nuts of a Pine trée, and layd to your left side, is of as great force when you looke vppon Camilla to bewitche the minde, as the Quintessence of Stockfish, is to nourish the body.

An hearbe there is, called Anacamforitis, a straunge name and doubtlesse of a straunge nature, for whosoeuer toucheth it, falleth in loue, with the person she next séeth. It groweth not in England, but héere you shal haue that which is not halfe so good, that will doe as much good, and yet truly no more.

The Hearbe Carisium, moystened with the bloud of a Lysard, and hanged about your necke, will cause Camilla (for hir you loue best) to dreame of your seruices, suites, desires, desertes, and whatsoeuer you would wish hir to thinke of you, but béeing wakened, she shall not remem­ber what she dreamed off. And this Hearb is to be found in a Lake néere Boetia, of which water who so drinketh shall be caught in loue, but neuer finde the Hearb: And if he drinke not, the Hearbe is of no force.

There is in the Frogs side, a bone called Apocycon, and in the head of a young Colte, a bounch named Hip­pomanes, both so effectuall for the obtaining of loue, that who so getteth either of them, shall winne anye that are willyng, but so iniuriously both craft and Nature dealt with young Gentlemen, that séeke to gayne good will by these meanes, that the one is licked off before it can bée [Page 64] gotten, the other breaketh, as soone as it is touched. And yet vnlesse Hippomanes be lycked, it cannot worke, and except Apocycon be sound it is nothing worth.

I omit the Thistle Eryngium, the Hearbes Catanenci and Pyteuma, Iuba his Charito blaepheron, and Orpheus Staphilinus, all of such vertue in cases of Loue, that if Camilla should but taste anye one of them in hir mouth, she would neuer let it goe downe hir throate, leaste shée should be poysoned, for well you know Gentleman, that Loue is a Poyson, and therefore by Poyson it must bée maintained.

But I will not forget as it were the Methridate of the Magitians, the beast Hiena, of whom there is no part so small or so vyle, but it serueth for their purpose: In­somuch that they accompt Hiena their God that can doe all, and their Diuel that will doe all.

If you take seauen hayres of Hienas lippes and carry them sixe dayes in your-téeth, or a péece of hir skinne next your bare heart, or hir bellye girded to your lefte side, if Camilla suffer you not to obtaine your purpose, cer­teinelye shee can-not chuse but thanke you for your paynes.

And if you want medicines to winne women, I haue yet more, the lungs of a Vultur, the ashes of Stellio, the left stone of a Cocke, the tongue of a Goose, the brayne of a Cat, the last haire of a Wolues tayle, things casie to be had, and commonly practised, so that I would not haue thée stande in doubt of thy loue, when either a young Swallowe famished, or the shrowding shéete of a téere friende, or a waren Taper, that burnt at his féete, or the inchaunted Néedle that Medea hidde in Iasons sléeue, are able not onely to make them desire loue, but al­so dye for loue.

How do you now féele your selfe Philautus? If the least of these charmes be not sufficient for thée, all exorcismes, and coniurations in the world will not serue thée.

[Page] You sée Gentleman, into what blinde and grose er­rours in olde time we were ledde, thinking euerye olde wiues tale to be a truth, and euery merry word a verye witchcraft. When the Aegyptians fell from their God to their Priestes of Memphis, and the Grecians from their Morall questions, to their disputations of Pyrrhus, and the Romaines from Religion, to polycie: than began all superstition to bréede, and all impietie to blome, and to be so great, they haue both growen, that the one being then an Infant is now an Elephant, & the other béeing then a Twigge, is now a Trée.

They inuented as many inchauntments for loue, as they did for the Tooth-ache, but he that hath tryed both will say, that the best charme for a tooth is to pull it out, and the best remedy for loue, to weare it out. It incan­tations, or potions, or amorous sayings coulde haue pre­uailed, Circes would neuer haue lost Vlisses, nor Phaedra Hippolitus, nor Phillis Demophoon. If Coniurations, Charecters, Circles, Figures, Fiends, or Furies, might haue wrought any thing in loue, Medea, would not haue suffered Iason to alter his minde.

If the sirrops of Micaonias, or the Uerses of Aeneas, or the Satiren of Dipsas, wer of force to moue the minde, they all thrée woulde not haue bene martired with the torments of loue.

No, no Philautus, thou maist wel poyson Camilla with such drugges but neuer perswade hir: For I confesse, that such hearbes may alter the bodye from strength to weakenesse, but to thinke that they can moue the minde from vertue to vice, from chastitye to luste, I am not so simple to beléeue, neither would I haue thée so sinfull as to doe it.

Lucilla ministring an amorous potion vnto hir hus­band Lucretius, procured his death, whose lyfe she onelys desired.

Aristotle noteth one, that being inflamed with the [Page 65] beautie of a faire Ladie, thought by medicine to procure his blisse, and wrought in the end hir baine: So was Ca­ligula slaine of Caesonia, and Lucius Lucuilus of C [...]hstine.

Perswade thy selfe Philautus, that to vse herbs to win loue will weaken the bodie, and to thinke that herbs can further▪ doth hurt the Soule: for as great force haue they in such cases as noble men thought thē to haue in y ^e old time. Achimenius the herbe was of such force, that it was thought if it wer throwen into the battaile, it wold make al the soldiers tremble: but wher was it when the Hum­bri and Tentom were eriled by warre, where grew A­chiminis, one of whose leaues would haue saued a thou­sand lyues.

The kinges of Persia gaue their souldiers the Plant Latace, which who so had, shoulde haue plentie of meate and money, and men and all thinges: but why dyd the souldiers of Caesar endure such famine in Pharsalia, if one herbe might haue eased so many hearts.

Where is Balis that luba so commendeth, the which could call the dead to life, and yet he himselfe dyed.

Democritus made a confection, that who soeuer drank it should haue a faire, a fortunate, and a good child. Why dyd not the Persian Kings swill this Nectar, hauing such beformed and vnhappy issue?

Cato was of that minde, that thrée enchaunted words could heale the eye-sight: and Varro, that a verse of Sy­billa could ease the goute, yet the one was faine to vse running water, which was but a cold medicine, the other paciencs, which was but a dry plaister.

I would not haue thée think Philautus that loue is to be obtained by such meanes, but onely by Faith, Uertue, and Constancie.

Philip King of Macedon casting his eye vpon a faire Uirgin became enamoured, which Olympias his wyfe perceiuing▪ thought him to be enchaunted, and caused one of hir seruaunts to bring the Mayden vnto hir, whom [Page] she thought to thrust both to exile and shame: but view­ing hir faire face without blemish, hir chast eyes without glauncing, hir modest countenaunce, hir sober & womanly behauiour, finding also hir vertues to be no lesse then hir beautie, she saide, in my selfe ther are charmes, meaning that ther was no greater enchantment in loue then tem­peraunce, wisedome, beautie and chastitie. Fond therfore is the opinion of those that thinke the minde to be tyed to Magicke, and the practise of those filthy, that séeke those meanes.

Loue dwelleth in the minde, in the will, & in y ^e harts, which neither Coniurer can alter, nor Phisicke. For as credible it is, that Cupid shoteth his Arrow and hitteth the heart, as that hearbes haue the force to bewitch the heart, only this difference ther is, that the one was a fic­tion of Poetrie, the other of superstition. The will is pla­ced in the Soule, and who can enter there, but hée that created the soule?

No no Gentleman, whatsoeuer you haue heard touch­ing this, beléeue nothing: for they in mine opinion which imagine that the minde is either by incantation or excā ­tation to be ruled, are as farre from trueth, as the East from the West, and as néere impietie against god, as they are to shame among men, and so contrary is it to the pro­fession of a Christian, as Paganisme.

Suffer not your self to be lead with that vyle conceit, practise in your loue all kind of loyaltie. Be not mute, nor full of bable, be sober, but auoyde sollennesse, vse no kinde of ryot, either by banqueting, which procureth sur­feits, nor in attyre, which hasteth beggary.

If you think wel of your witte, be alwayes pleasant, if ill be often silent: in the one thy talke shall proue thée sharpe, in the other thy modestie, wise.

All Fishe are not caught with Flyes, all woemen are not allured with personage. Frame Letters, Dit­ties, Musicke, and all meanes that honestie may allow: [Page 66] For he wooeth well, that meaneth no ill, and hée spéedeth sooner that speaketh what he should, then he that vttereth what he will. Beléeue me Philautus I am nowe olde, yet haue I in my head a loue tooth, & in my minde there is nothing y ^t more pearceth the heart of a beautifull Lady, then wryting, where thou mayest so set downe thy passi­ons and hir perfection, as she shall haue cause to thinke well of thée, and better of hir selfe: but yet so warily, as neyther thou séeme to praise hir too much, or debase thy selfe too lowlye: for if thou flatter them without meane, they loath, & if thou make of thy selfe aboue reason, they laugh at it, temper thy wordes so well, and place euery sentence so wisely, as it may be harde for hir to iudge, whether thy loue be more faithfull, or hir beautie ami­able.

Lions fawne when they are clawed. Tygers stoupe when they are tickled, Bucephalus lyeth downe when he is curryed, women yéeld when they are courted.

This is the poyson Philautus, the enchauntment, the potions that créepeth by sleight into y ^e mind of a woman, and catcheth hir by assurance, better then y ^e fond deuices of olde dreames, as an Apple with an Auie Marie, or a hasill wand of a yeare old crossed with sir Charactors, or the picture of Venus in Uirgin Ware, or the Image of Camilla, vppon a Moulwarpes skinne.

It is not once mencioned in the English Court, nor so much as thought of in any ones conscience, that Loue can be procured by such meanes, or that any can ima­gine such mischiefe, and yet I feare me it is too commen in our Countrey, whereby they incurre hate of euery one and loue of none.

Touching my cunning in any vile deuices of Magick, it was neuer my studie, only some delyght, I tooke in the Mathematickes, which made me knowne of more then I would, and of more then think wel of me, although I ne­uer did hurt any, nor hindred.

[Page] But be thou quiet Philautus, & vse those meanes that may winne thy loue, not those that may shorten hir lyfe, and if I can any wayes stand thée in stéede, vse me as thy poore friend and countreyman, harme I wil do thée none, good I cannot. My acquaintaunce in court is small, and therefore my dealings about the Courte shall be fewe, for I loue to stand aloofe from loue, and lightning Fire giueth light to things farre off, and burneth that which is next to it. The court shineth to me that come not ther, but singeth those that dwell there. Onely my counsayle vse, that is in writing, & me thou shalt finde secreate, wi­shing thée alwayes fortunate, and if thou make me par­taker of thy successe, it shal not turne to thy grief, but as much as in me lyeth, I will further thée.

When he had finished his discourse, Philautus lyked very well of it, and thus replyed.

WEll Psellus, thou hast wrought y ^t in me, which thou wishest, for if the baites that are layde for beautie be so ridiculous, I think it of as great effect in loue, to vse a Paister, as a Potion.

I nowe vtterly dissent from those that imagine Ma­gicke to be the meanes, & consent with thée, that thinkest letters to be, which I will vse, & how I spéede I will tell thée, in y ^e meane season pardon me, if I vse no longer an­swere, for wel you know, that he y ^t hath the fit of an Ague vpon him, hath no lust to talke but to tumble, and loue pinching me I haue more desire to chew vpon melancho­ly, then to dispute vppon Magicke, but hereafter I will make repaire vnto you, & what I now giue you in thanks, I will then requite with amends.

Thus these two countreymen parted with certeyne Italian embracings and termes of curtesie, more thē com­mon. Philautus we shall finde in his lodging, Psellus we will leaue in his studie, the one musing of his loue, the other of his learning.

[Page 67] HEere Gentlewomen you may sée, how iustly men séeks to entrap you, when scornfully you goe about to reiect them, thinking it not vnlawfull to vse Arte, when they perceiue you obstinate, their dealings I will not allow, neither can I excuse yours, and yet what should be the cause of both, I can gesse.

When Phydias first painted they vsed no colours, but blacke, white, redde, and yeolowe: Zeuxis added gréene, and euery one inuented a newe shadowing. At the last, it came to this passe, y ^t he in painting deserued most praise, that could sette downe most colours: wherby there was more contention kindeled about the colour, then y ^e coun­terfaite, and greater emulation for varietie in shew, then workmanship in substaunce.

In y ^e like manner hath it fallen out in Loue, whē A­dam weed there was no pollicie, but plain dealing, no co­lours but black & white, Affection was measured by faith not by fancie: he was not curious, nor Eue cruel: he was not enamored of hir beautie, nor she allured with his per­sonage: and yet then was she the fairest woman in the world, & he the prop [...]rest man Since that time euery lo­uer hath put too a lynke, & made of a King, a Chaine, and an odde Corner, and framed of a playne Alley, a crooked knot, and of Venus Temple, Dedalus Laborynth. One curleth his haire, thinking loue to be moued with faire lockes, an other layeth all his lyuing vpon his back, iud­ging that womē are wedded to brauery, some vse discour­ses of Loue, to kindle affection, some ditties to allure the minde, some letters to stirre the appetite, diuers fighting to proue their manhoode, sundry sighing to shew their ma­ladies, many attempt with showes to please their Ladies eyes, not few with Musicke to entice the eare: Insomuch that there is more strife now, who shall be the finest Lo­uer, then who is the faithfullest.

This causeth you Gentlewomen, to picke out those that can court you, not those that loue you, and hée is ac­compted [Page] the best in your conceits, that vseth most colours, not that sheweth greatest courtesie.

A playne tale of Faith ye laugh at, a picked discourse of fancie, you meruayle at, condemning the simplicitie of trueth, and preferring the singularitie of deceipt, wherin you resemble those fishes y ^t rather swallow a faire baite with a sharpe hooke, then a foulc worme bréeding in the mudde.

Héereoff it commeth, that true louers receiuing a flout for their faith, & a mocke for their good meaning, are en­forced to séeke such meanes as might compel you, which you knowing impossible, maketh you the more disdainful and them the more desperate. This then is my counsell, that you vse your louers like friends, and chuse them by their faith, not by the shewe, but by the sounde, neither by the waight, but by the touche, as you doe golde: so shall you be praised, as much for vertue as beautie. But return we againe to Philautus, who thus began to debate with himselfe.

WHat hast thou done Philautus, in séeking to wound hir, that thou desirest to winne?

With what face canst thou looke on hir, whom thou soughtest to loose? Fye, fye Philautus, thou bringest thy good name into question, and hir lyfe into hazard, hauing neither care of thine owne credit, nor hir honour. Is this the loue thou pretendest which is worse then hate? Didst not thou séeke to poyson hir, that neuer pinched thée?

But why doe I recount those thinges which are past, and I repent, I am now to consider what I must do, not what I would haue done? Follies past, shall be worn out with faith to come, and my death shall shew my desire. Write Philautus, what sayst thou? write, no, no, thy rude stile wil bewray thy meane estate, and thy rash attempt, wil purchase thine ouerthrow. Venus delighteth to heare none but Mercury, Pallas wil be stoln of none but Vlisses, [Page 68] it must be a smooth tongue, and a swéet tale that can en­rhaunt Vesta.

Besides that, I dare not trust a messenger to cary it, nor hir to read it, least in shewing my letter, she disclose my loue, and then shall I be pointed at of those that hate me, and pitied of those that like me, of hir scorned, of al talked off. No Philautus, be not thou the bye worde of the com­mon people, rather suffer death by silence, then derision by writing.

I, but it is better to reueale thy loue, then conceale if, thou knowest not what bitter poysō lyeth in swéet words, remember Psellus, who by experience hath tryed, that in loue one letter is of more force, then a thousand lookes. If they like writings, they read them often, if dislyke them, runne them ouer once, and this is certeine, that she that readeth such toyes, will also aunswere them. Onely this be secret in conueyaunce, which is the thing they thiefliest desire. Then write Philautus write, he that feareth euery bush, must neuer goe a birding, he that casteth al doubts, shall neuer be resolued in any thing. And this assure thy selfe, that be thy letter neuer so rude and barbarous, she will read it, and be it neuer so louing she will not shew it, which were a thing contrary to hir honour, & the next way to cal hir honestie into question. For thou hast heard, yea and thy selfe knowest, that Ladies that vaunt of their Louers, or shewe their letters, are accompted in Italy counterfaite, and in England they are not thought cur­rant.

Thus Philautus determined, hab, nab, to send his let­ters, flattering himself with the successe, which he to him selfe faigned: and after long musing, he thus began to frame the minister of his loue.

THis letter being coyned, he studied how he might cō ­uey it, knowing it to be no lesse perrillous to trust those he knew not in so weightie a case, then difficult for himselfe to haue opportunitie to deliuer it in so suspitious a company: At the last taking out of his closette a faire Pomgranet, & pulling all the kernells out of it, he wrap­ped his letter in it, closing the toppe of it finely, that it could not be perceiued, whether nature againe had knit it of purpose to further him, or his arte had ouercome na­tures cunning.

[Page] This Pomgranet he tooke, being himself both messenger of his Letter, and the maister, & ins [...]nuating himselfe in­to the company of the Gentlewomen, among whom was also Camilla, he was welcommed, as wel for that he had ben long time absent, as for that he was as al times plea­sant, much good cōmunication ther was, touching many matters, which here to insert wer neither conuenient, se­ing it doth not concerne the History, nor expedient, séeing it is nothing to y ^e deliuery of Philautus letter. But this it fell out in the end, Camilla whether longing for so faire a Pomgranet, or willed to aske it, yet loth to require it, she sodeinely complayned of an old disease, wherwith she many times felt hir self grieued, which was an extreame heate in y ^e stomack, which aduantage Philautus marking, would not let slip, when it was purposely spokē, that he should not giue them the slip, and therfore as one glad to haue so conuenient a time to offer both his duetie & his deuotion, he began thus.

I Haue heard Camilla, of Phisitians, that there is no­thing either more comfortable, or more profitable for the stomack or enflamed liuer, then a Pomgranet, which if it be true, I am glad that I came in so good time with a medicine, séeing you were in so il a time supprised with your maladie: and verily this will I say, that there is not one kernel but is able both to ease your paine, and to double your pleasure, & with that he gaue it hir, desiring that as she felt the working of the potion, so she woulde consider of the Phisition.

Camilla with a smiling countenaunce neither suspec­ting the craft, nor the conueyer, answered him with these thankes.

I thank you Gentleman, as much for your counsell as your curtesie, and if your cunning be answerable to ey­ther of them, I wil make you amends for all of them: yet I wil not open so faire a fruite as this is, vntil I féele the payne y ^t I so much feare. As you please quoth Philautus▪ [Page 70] yet if euery morning you take one kernel, it is y ^e way to preuent your disease, and me thinketh that you should be as careful to work meanes before it come, that you haue it not, as to vse meanes to expell it when you haue it.

I am content answered Camilla, to try your phisicke, which as I know it can do me no great harme, so it may doe me much good.

In truth said one of the Gentlewomen then present, I perceiue this Gentleman is not onely cunning in Phi­sicke, but also very carefull for his Patient.

It behoueth quoth Philautus, that he that ministreth to a Lady, be as desirous of hir health, as his own credite, for that ther redoundeth more prayse to the Phisitiō that hath a care to his charge, then to him that hath onlye a shew of his art. And I trust Camilla wil better accept of the good will I haue to rid hir of hir disease, then the gift, which must worke the effect.

Otherwise quoth Camilla, I were very much to blame, knowing that in many the behauiour of the man, hath wrought more then y ^e force of the medicine. For I would alwayes haue my Phisition of a chéerefull countenaunce, pleasantly conceipted, & well proportioned, that he might haue his sharpe Potions mixed with swéete counsaile, & his sower druggs mittigated with merry discourses. And this is the cause, that in old time, they painted the God of Phisicke, not like Saturne but Aesculapius: of a good complection, fine witte, and excellent constitution.

For this I knowe by experience, though I bée but young to learne, and haue not often bene sick, that the sight of a pleasant and quicke witted Phisitian, hath re­moued that from my heart with talke, that he could not with all his Triacle.

That might well be, answered Philautus, for the man that wrought the cure, did perchaunce cause the disease, and so secreate might the griefe be, that none coulde heale you, but he that hurte you, neither was your heart to be [Page] eased by any inwarde potion, but by some outward per­suasion: and then it is no meruaile if the ministring of a fewe words, were more auayleable then Methridate.

Wel Gentleman saide Camilla, I wil neither dispute in Phisicke, wherin I haue no skil, neither answere you, to your last surmise, which you séeme to leuel at, but than­king you once againe both for your gift & good will, wée will vse other communication, not forgetting to aske for your friend Euphues, who hath not long time bene, wher he might haue bene welcommed at al times, and that hée came not with you at this time, we both meruayle, and would faine know.

This question so earnestly asked of Camilla, and so harblye to be aunswered of Philautus, nipped him in the head, not withstanding least he shold séeme by long silence to incurre some suspition, he thought a bad excuse better then none at al, saying that Euphues now a dayes became so studious (or as he tearmed it, supersticious) that hée could not himselfe so much, as haue his company.

Belike quoth Camilla, he hath either espied some newe faultes in the women of England, whereby he séeketh to absent himselfe, or some old haunt that will cause him to spoyle himselfe.

Not so said Philautus, and yet that it was saide so I will tell him.

Thus after much conference, many questions, & long time spent Philautus tooke his leaue, and béeing in his chamber, we wil there leaue him with such cogitations, as they commonly haue, that either attende the sentence of life or death at the bar, or the aunswere of hope or dis­paire of their loues, which none can set down but he that hath them, for that they are not to be vttered by the con­iecture of one that would imagine what they should be▪ but by him that knoweth what they are.

Camilla the next morning opened the Pomegranet, & saw the letter, which reading, pondering, & perusing, shée [Page 71] fell into a thousand contrarieties, whether it wer best to answere it or not, at the last, inflamed with a kinde of cho­lar, for that she knew not what belonged to the perplexi­ties of a Louer, she requited his fraude and loue, with an­ger and hate, in these termes, or the lyke.

THis letter Camilla stitched into an Italian Petracke which she had, determining at the nexte comming of Philautus to deliuer it, vnder the pretence of asking some question, or the vnderstanding of some worde. Philautus attending hourely y ^e sucresse of his loue, made his repaire according to his accustomable vse, and finding the Gen­tlewomen [Page 72] sitting in an herbor, saluted them curteouslye, not forgetting to be inquisitiue how Camilla was eased by his Pomegranet, which oftentimes asking of hir, shee aunswered him thus.

In faith Philautus, it had a faire coat, but a rotten ker­nell, which so much offended my weake stomack, that the very sight caused me to loath it, and the sent to throw it into the fire.

I am sory quoth Philautus (who spake no lesse then truth) that the medicine could not works that, which my minde wished, and with that stoode as one in a traunce, which Camilla perceiuing, thought best to ru [...] no more on that gall, least the standers by should espy wher Philau­tus shooe wronge him.

Well sayd Camilla, let it goe, I must impute it to my ill fortune, that where I looked for a restoritie, I found a consumption: and with that she drew out hir petracke, requesting him to cōster hir a lesson, hoping his learning would be better for a schoolemaster, then his lucke was for a Phisition. Thus walking in the ally she listned to his construction, who tourning the booke, found wher the letter was enclosed, and dissembling that he suspected, he sayd he would kéepe hir petracke vntill the morning, doe you quoth Camilla.

With that the Gentlewomen clustered about them both, either to heare how cunningly Philautus could conster, or how readily Camilla could conceiue. It fell out that they turned to suche a place, as turned them all to a blanke, where it was reasoned, whether loue came at the sodeine viewe of beautie, or by long experience of vertue, a long disputation was lyke to ensue, had not Camilla cut it off before they could ioyne issue, as one not willing in the company of Philautus either to talke of loue, or think of loue [...]east either he should suspect she had bene woed, or might be wonne, which was not done so closely, but it was perceiued of Philautus, though dissembled.

[Page] Thus after many words, they went to their dinner, wher I omit their table talke, least I loose mine.

After their repast, Surius came in with a great train, which lightened Camillas hart, and was a dagger to Phi­lautus breast, who taried no longer then he had leasure to take his leaue, either desirous to read his Ladies answer, or not willing to enioy Surius his company, whom also I will now forsake, and followe Philautus, to heare howe his minde is quieted with Camillas courtesie.

Philautus no sooner entred his chamber, but he read hir letter, which wrought such skirmishes in his minde, that he had almost forgot reason, falling into the olde vain of his rage in this manner.

Ah cruell Camilla and accursed Philautus, I sée nowe that it fareth with thée, as it doth w ^t the Hare Sea, which hauing made one astonied with hir faire sight, turneth him into a stone with hir venemous sauor, and with me as it doeth with those that view the Basilike, whose eyes pro­cure delight to the looker at the first glymse, and death at the second glaunce.

Is this the curtesie of England towards strangers, to entreat them so despightfully? Is my good will not onely reiected without cause, but also disdained with-out cou­lour? I but Philautus praise at thy parting, if she had not liked thée, she would neuer haue answered thée. Knowest thou not, that where they loue much, they dissemble most, that as fayre weather commeth after a foule storme, so swéete termes succéede sowre tauntes?

Assaye once againe Philautus by letters to winne hir loue, and follow not the vnkinde hound, who leaueth the sent bicause he is rated, or the bastarde Spaniell, which being once rebuked, neuer retriueth his game. Let Atlāta runne neuer so swiftlye, she will looke backe vpon Hyp­pomanes, let Medea bée as cruell as a fende to all Gen­tlemen, shée will at the last respecte Iason. A deniall at the first is accompted a graunt, a gentle aunsweare a [Page 73] mockerie. Ladyes vse their Louers as the Storke doth hir young ones, who pecketh them till they bleede with hir bill, and then healeth them with hir tongue. Cupid himselfe must spende one arrowe, and thinkest thou to speede with one Letter? No no Philautus, he that looketh to haue cléere water must digge déepe, he that longeth for sweete Musicke, must set his stringes at the highest, hée that seeketh to win his loue must stretch his labour, and hasard his life, Venus blesseth Lions in the folde, and Lambes in the chamber, Eagles at the assault, & Foxes in counsaile, so that thou must be hardie in the pursuit, & méeke in victory, venterous in obtaining, & wise in con­cealing, so that thou win that with praise, whiche other­wise thou wilt loose with péeuishnesse. Faint heart Phi­lautus neither winneth Castell nor Lady: therefore en­dure all things that shal sharpen with patience, & pursue with diligence, thy fortune is to be tryed, not by the ac­cedents but by the end.

Thus Gentlewomen, Philautus, resembleth the Ui­per, who being stricken with a reede lyeth as he were deade, but stricken the seconde time, recouereth his strength: hauing his aunswere at the first in the Masque he was almost amazed, and nowe againe denyed, hée is animated presuming thus much vpon the good disposition and kindnesse of women, that the higher they sit, the lower they looke, and the more they seeme at the first to loth, the more they loue at the last. Whose iudge­ment as I am not altogether to allowe, so canne I not in some respect mislyke. For in this they resemble the Crocodile, who when one approcheth neere vnto him, gathereth vp himselfe into the roundnesse of a ball, but running from him, stretcheth himselfe into the length of a trée. The willing resistance of womē was the cause that made Arelius (whose art was only to draw women) to paint Venus. Cnydia, catching at the ball with hir hand, which she séemed to spurne at with hir foote. And [Page] in this point they are not vnlike vnto the Mirre Trée, which being hewed, gathereth in his sappe, but not mo­ued, powreth it out like sirrope. Women are neuer more coye then when they are beloued, yet in their mindes ne­uer lesse constant, seeming to tye themselues to the mast of the shippe with Vlysses, when they are wooed, with a strong Cable: which being well descerned is a twine thréede: throwing a stone at the heade of him, vnto whom they immediately cast out an aple, of which their gentle nature Philautus being perswaded, followed his suit a­gaine in this manner.

THis letter he thought by no meanes better to bée conueyed, then in the same booke he receiued hirs, so omitting no time, least the yron shoulde coole before he coulde strike, he presently went to Camilla, whome hée founde in gathering of flowers, with diuers other Ladies and Gentlewomen, which came as well to re­create them-selues for pleasure, as to visite Camilla, whom they all loued, Philautus somewhat boldened by acquaintaunce, curteous by nature, and courtlye by countenaunce, saluted them all with such termes, as he thought méete for such personages, not forgetting to call Camilla his schollar, when she had schooled him being hir maister.

One of the Ladies who delighted much in mirth, se­ing Philautus behold Camilla so stedfastly, said vnto him.

GEntleman what floure like you best in all this bor­der, héere be fayre Roses, swéete Uiolets, fragrant primroses, héere wil be Iillyfloures, Caruations, sops in wine, swéete Iohns, and what may either please you for [Page 75] fight, or delyght you with sauour: loth we are you should haue a Posie of all, yet willing to giue you one, not that which shall looke best, but such a one as you shal like best. Philautus omitting no opportunitie, that might either manifest his affection, or commend his wit, aunswered hir thus.

LAdy of so many swéete floures to chuse the best, it is harde, séeing they be all so good: if I shoulde preferre the fayrest before the swéetest, you woulde happelye ima­gine, that either I were stopped in the nose, or wanton in the eyes: if the swéetenesse before the beautie, then would you gesse me either to liue with sauours, or to haue no iudgement in colours, but to tell my minde (vp­pon correction be it spoken) of all flowers, I loue a fayre woman.

In déede quoth Flauia, (for so was she named) fayre women are sette thicke but they come vppe thinne, and when they begin to budde, they are gathered as though they were blowen, of such men as you are Gentleman, who thinke gréene Grasse, will neuer be drye Haye, but when the flower of theyr youth (being slipped too young) shall fade before they be olde, then I dare say, you would chaunge your faire flower for a wéede, and the woman you loued then, for the worst Uiolet you refuse now.

Lady aunswered Philautus, it is a signe that beautie was no niggard of hir slippes in this gardeine, and very enuious to other grounds, séeing héere are so manye in one Plot, as I shall neuer finde more in all Italy, whe­ther the reason be, the heate which killeth them, or the countrey that cannot beare them. As for plucking them vp soone, in that we shew the desire we haue to them, not the mallyce. Where you coniecture, that men haue no respect to things when they be olde, I can-not consent to your saying, for well doe they know, that it fareth with women as it doth with the Mulbery trée, which the el­der [Page] it is, the younger it séemeth, and therefore hath it growen to a Prouerbe in Italy, when one séeth a woman striken in age to looke amiable, he sayth she hath eaten a Snake: so that I must of force follow mine olde opini­on, that I loue fresh flowers well, but faire women bet­ter. Flauia would not so leaue him, but thus replyed to him.

You are very amorous Gentleman, other-wise you would not take the defence of that thing which most men contempne, & women will not confesse. For wher-as you goe about to currey fauour, you make a fault, either in praysing vs too much, which we accompt in England flat­terie, or pleasing your selfe in your owne minde, which wise men estéeme as follye. For when you endeauour to proue y ^t women y ^e older they are, y ^e fairer they looke, you think thē either very credulous to beléeue, or your talke very effectuall to perswade. But as cunning as you are in your Pater noster, I will adde one Article more to your Crede, that is, you may speake in matters of loue, what you wil, but women wil beléeue but what they list, & in extolling their beauties, they giue more credite to their owne glasses, than mens gloses, but you haue not yet aunswered my request, touching what flower you most desire: for women doe not resemble flowers, nei­ther in shew nor sauour.

Philautus not shrinking for an Aprill shower, follow­ed the chase in this manner.

Lady, I neither flatter you nor please my selfe (although it pleaseth you so to coniecture) for I haue alwayes ob­serued this, that to stande too much in mine owne con­ceipt would gaine me but lyttle, and to clawe those, of whom I sought for no benefit, would profit me lesse: yet was I neuer so il brought vp, but y ^t I could when time & place should serue, giue euery one their iust cōmēdation, vnlesse it wer among those y ^t wer w ^tout cōparison: offen­ding in nothing but in this, that being too curious in prai­sing [Page 76] my Lady, I was lyke to the Painter Protogenes, who could neuer leaue when his worke was wel, which faulte is to be excused in him, bicause he would make it better, and may be borne within me, for that I wish it excellent.

Touching your first demaund, which you séeme agayne to vrge in your last discourse, I say of al flowers I loue y ^e Rose best, yet w ^t this condition, bicause I wil not eat my word, I like a faire Lady wel. Then quoth Flauia, since you wil néedes ioyne y ^e flower with y ^e woman, among all vs (and speake not parcially) call hir your Rose, that you most regard, and if she deny that name, we will enoyne hir a penaunce for hir pride, and reward you with a Ui­olet for your paynes.

Philautus being driuen to this shift, wished himselfe in his chamber, for this he thought, y ^t if he should chuse Ca­milla, she would not accept it, if an other, she might iust­ly reied him. If he should discouer his loue, then woulde Camilla thinke him not to be secret, if conceale it, not to be feruent: besides, all the Ladyes would espye his loue, and preuent it, or Camilla dispise his offer, & not regarde it. While he was thus in a déepe meditation, Flauia wa­kened him saying, why Gentleman are you in a dreame or is there none heere worthy to make choyce off, or are we all so indifferent, that there is neuer a good.

Philautus seeing this Lady so courteous, and louing Camilla so earnestly, could not yet resolue with himselfe what to doe, but at the last, loue, which neither regardeth what it speaketh, nor where, he replyed thus at all ad­uentures.

LAdyes and Gentlewomen, I would I were so fortu­nate that I might thuse euery one of you for a flow­er, and then would I boldly affirme, that I could shewe the fayrest posie in the world, but follye it is for mée to wyshe that béeing a slaue, which none can hope for, [Page] that is an Emperour. If I make my choice I shall spéede so well, as he that enioyeth all Europe. And with that gathering a Rose, he gaue it to Camilla, whose colour so encreased, as one would haue iudged all hir face to haue bene a Rose, had it not bene stayned with a naturall whitenesse, which made hir to excell the Rose.

Camilla with a smiling countenaunce, as though no­thing grieued, yet vexed inwardly to the heart, refused the gifte flatly, pretending a ready excuse, which was, that Philautus was either verye much ouer-séene, to take hir before the Lady Flauia, or els disposed to giue hir a mocke aboue the rest in the company.

Well quoth Flauia to Philautus, (who now stoode like one that had bene vesmered) there is no harme done, for I perceiue Camilla is other wise sped, & if I be not much deceiued, she is a flower for Surius wearing, the penaunce she shall haue, is to make you a Nosegay, which she shall not denye thée, vnlesse she defie vs, and the rewarde thou shalt haue, is this, while you tary in England my Néece shall be your Uiolet.

This Ladyes Cousin was named Frauncis, a fayre Gentlewoman, and a wise, young and of very good con­ditions, not much inferiour to Camilla, equal shee coulde not be.

Camilla who was loath to be accompted in any com­pany coye, endeauoured in the presence of the Lady Fla­uia to be very courteous, and gathered for Philautus a po­fie of all the finest flowers in the garden, saying thus vn­to him. I hope you will not be offended Philautus, in that I could not be your Rose, but imputing the fault rather to desteny than discourtesie.

Philautus plucking vp his spirites, gaue hir thankes for hir paynes, and immediatelye gathered a Uyolette, which he gaue Mistresse Frauncis, which shée courte­ously receiued, thus all partes were pleased for that time.

[Page 77] Philautus was inuited to dinner, so that he coulde no longer staye, but pulling out the booke where-in his let­ter was enclosed he deliuered it to Camilla, taking his humble leaue of the Lady Flauia and the rest of the Gen­tlewomen.

When he was gone there fell much talke of him be­tweene the Gentlewomen, one commending his wit, an other his personage, some his fauour, all his good condi­tions, insomuch that the Lady Flauia bounde it with an othe, that she thought him both wise and honest.

When the company was dissolued, Camilla not thin­king to receiue an aunswere but a lecture, went to hir Italian booke where she founde the letter of Philau­tus, who without any further aduise, as one very much offended, or in a great heate, sent him this bone to gnaw vppon.

CAmilla dispatched this letter with spéede, and sent it to Philautus by hir man, whiche Philautus hauing read, I commit the plight he was in, to the considerati­on of you Gentlemen that haue bene in the like: hée tare his haire, rent his clothes, and fell from the passions of a Louer to the panges of phrensie, but at the last calling his wittes to him, forgetting both the charge Camilla gaue him, and the contents of hir letter, he gréeted hir immediately againe, with an aunswere by hir owne Messenger in this manner.

THis letter being written in the extremitie of his rage, he sent by him that brought hirs. Camilla perceiuing a fresh reply, was not a lyttle melancholy, but digesting it with company, and burning the Letter, she determi­ned neuer to write to him, nor after that to sée him, so re­solute was she in hir opinion. I dare not saye obstinate, [Page] least you Gentlewomen should take Pepper in the nose, when I put but salte in your mouthes. But this I dare boldly affirme, that ladies are to be woed with Appelles pencill, Orpheus harpe, Mercuries tongue, Adoms beau­tie, Croesus wealth, or els neuer to be wonne: for their beauties being blazed, their eares tickeled, their mindes moued, their eyes pleased, their appetite satisfied, their Coffers filled, when they haue al things they shold haue, and would haue, then men néede not to stande in doubt, of their comming, but of their constancie.

But let me follow Philautus, who now both loathing his lyfe, and cursing his lucke, called to remembraunce his olde friend Euphues, whom he was wont to haue al­wayes in mirth a pleasaunt companion, in griefe a com­forter, in all his lyfe, the only stay of his lybertie, the dis­curtesie which he offered him, so increased his griefe, that he fell into these termes of rage, as one either in an Ex­tacie, or in a Lunacie.

NOw Philautus dispute no more with thy selfe of thy loue, but be desperate to ende thy lyfe, thou hast cast off thy friend, and thy Lady hath forsaken thée, thou de­stitute of both, canst neither haue comfort of Camilla, whō thou séest obstinate, nor counsaile of Euphues, whom thou hast made enuious.

Ah my good friend Euphues, I sée now at length though too late, that a true friend is of more price then a king­dome, and that the faith of thée, is to be preferred before the beautie of Camilla. For as safe being is it in the companie of a trustie mate, as sléeping in the grasse Tri­fole, where there is no Serpent so venemous, that dare v [...]nture.

Thou wast euer carefull for my estate, and I care­lesse for thine, thou didst alwayes feare in me the fire of loue, I euer flattered my selfe with y ^e bridle of wisdome, when thou wast earnest to giue me counsaile, I wart [...] [Page 80] angry to heare it, if thou diddest suspect me vppon iu [...]te cause, I fell out with thée for euery lyght occasion: now, now, Euphues, I sée what it is to want a friend, and what it is to lose one, thy words are come to passe, which once I thought thou spakest in sporte, but now I finde them as a Prophecie, that I shoulde be constrayned to stand at Euphues dore as the true owner.

What shal I do in this extremitie? which way shal I turne me? of whom shal I seeke remedy? Euphues wil re­iect thée, and why should he not? Camilla hath reiected me, & why should she? the one I haue offended with too much griefe, the other I haue serued with too great good will, the one is lost with loue, the other with hate, he for that I cared not for him, she, bicause I cared for hir. I but though Camilla be not to be moued, Euphues may be mol­lified. Trye him Philautus, sue to him, make friēds, write to him, leaue nothing vndone, that may either shewe in thée a sorrowfull heart, or moue in him a minde that is pitiful. Thou knowest he is of nature courteous, one that hateth none, that loueth thée, that is tractable in al things, Lyons spare those that couch to them, the Tygresse by­teth not when she is clawed, Cerberus barketh not if Or­pheus pipe swéetely, assure thy selfe that if thou be peni­tent be wil be pleased: and the olde friendship wil be bet­ter than the new.

Thus Philautus ioying now in nothing, but onely in the hope he had to recouer y ^t friendship with repentance, which he had broken off by rashnesse, determined to gréet his friend Euphues, who all this while lost no time at his booke in London, but how he employed it, he shal him self vtter, for that I am neither of his counsaile nor court, but what he hath done he will not conceale, for rather he wisheth to bewray his ignoraunce, than his idlenes, and willynger you shall finde him to make excuse of rude­nesse, than lasinesse. But thus Philautus saluted him.

[Page] THis letter he dispatched by his boy [...], whiche Euphues reading, coulde not tell whether he shoulde more re­ioyce at his friends submission, or mistrust his subtiltie, therefore as one not resoluing himselfe to determine a­ny thing, as yet aunswered him thus immediatelye by his owne messenger.

This letter pinched Philautus at the first, yet trusting much to the good disposition of Euphues, he determined to perseuer both in his suite & amendement, and therfore as one beating his yron that he might frame it while it were hoat, aunswered him in this manner.

PHilautus did not sléepe about his busines, but present­ly sent his letter, thinking that if once he could fasten friendship againe vppon Euphues, that by his meanes, he should compasse his loue with Camilla, and yet this I durst affirme, that Philautus was both willyng to haue Euphues, and sorrowfull that he lost him by his owne lauishnesse.

Euphues perused this letter oftentimes, being in a mam­mering what to aunswere, at the last he determined once againe to lye a loofe, thinking that if Philautus ment faithfully, he would not desist from his sute, and therfore he retourned salutations in this manner.

THis letter was written in hast sent with speede, and aunswered againe in post. For Philautus séeing so good counsaile coulde not procéede of any ill conceipt, thought once againe to sollycite his friend, and that in such tearmes as he might be most agréeable to Euphues tune▪ In this manner.

EVphues séeing such spéedye returne of an other aunswere, thought Philautus to be very sharps set, for to recouer him, and weighing with him selfe, that often in marriages there haue fallen out bra [...], where the chiefest loue shoulde be, and yet againe reconciliati­ons, that none ought at any time so to loue, that he shoulde finde in his heart, at any time to hate. Further­more, casting in his minde the good he might [...]o to Phi­lautus by his friendship, and the mischiefe that might en­sue by his fellowes follye, aunswered him thus a­gaine speedely, as well to preuent the course he might otherwise take▪ as also to prescribe what wa [...] he shoulde take.

THis letter was so thankfully receiued of Philautus, that he almost ran beyonde himselfe for ioye, prepa­ring all things necessary, for the enterteinment of his friend, who at the houre appointed failed not.

Many embracings there were, much straunge cour­tesie, many prettie glaunces, being almost for the time but straungers, biause of their long absence.

But growing to questioning one with another, they fell to the whole discourse of Philautus loue, who left out nothing that before I put in, which I must omit, least I [Page] set before you Cole-wortes twice sodden, which will both offend your eares which I séeke to delight, and trou­ble my hande which I couet to case.

But this I am sure, that Euphues conclusion was this, betwéene waking & winking, that our English Ladies and Gentlewomen were so running in loue, that the la­bour wer more easie in Italy to wed one & bury hir, than héere to woe one & marry hir. And thus they with long talking wared wearie, wher I leaue them, not willyng to talke any longer, but to sléepe their fills til morning.

Now Gentlewomen, I appeale in this controuersie to your consciences, whether there be in you an Arte to loue as Euphues thinketh, or whether it bréed in you as it doth in mē: by sight, if one be beautiful, by hearing, if one be wittie, by deserts, if one be courteous, by desire, if one be vertuous, which I would not know, to this intent y ^t I might be instructed how to win any of you, but to y ^e end I might wonder at you al: For if ther be in loue an Art, thē do I not meruel to sée men y ^t euery way are to be be­loued, so oftentimes to be reiected. But so secret is this matter perteining nothing to our sex, I wil not farther enquire of it, lest happely in gessing what Art womē vse in loue, I shold minister an art they neuer before knew: And so in thinking to be wray the bayt that hath caught one, I giue them a net to draw many, putting a sworde into the hande, where ther is but a sheath, teaching them to strike, that put vs to our tryings by warding, which would double our perill, who without Art cannot allure them, and encrease their tyranny, who without they tor­ment, will come to no parley.

But this I admonish you, that as your owne beau­ties make you not couetous of your almes towards true louers, so other mens flatterie make you not prodigall of your honors towards dissemblers. Let not them y ^t speak fairest be beléeued soonest, for true loue lacketh a tongue, [Page 88] and is tryed by the eyes, which in a heart that meaneth well, are as farre from wanton glaunces, as the minde, is from idle thoughts.

And this Arte I will giue you, which we men doe commonly practise, if you beholde anye one that either your courtesie hath allured, or your beautie, or both, tryumph not ouer him, but the more earnest you sée him, the more readye be to followe him, and when hée thin­keth him-selfe néerest, let him be farthest off: Then if he take that with patience, assure your selfe he cannot be faithlesse.

He that Angleth, plucketh the bayte away when hée is néere a byte, to the ende the fish may be more eager to swallowe the hooke, Birdes are trayned with a swéete call, but caught with a broad nette: and louers come with faire lookes, but are entangled with disdainefull eyes.

The Spaniel that fawneth when he is beaten, wil ne­uer forsake his master, the man that doateth when he is disdayned, will neuer forgoe his Mistres.

But too much of this String, which sowndeth too much out of square, and retourne we to Euphues and Philautus.

The next morning when they were risen, they went into a gallerie, where Euphues, who perceiued Philautus grieuously perplexed for the loue of Camilla, began thus betwéene iest and earnest to talke with him.

PHilautus, I haue well nigh all this night bene dispu­ting with my selfe of thy distresse, yet canne I resolue my selfe in nothing that either may content mée, or qui­et thée.

What mettal art thou made off Philautus, that thin­kest of nothing but Loue, and arte rewarded with no­thing lesse than loue: Lucilla was too badde, yet diddest [Page] thou court hir, thy swéete heart nowe in Naples is none of the best, yet diddest thou follow hir, Camilla excéeding all, wher thou wast to haue least hope, thou hast wo [...]d not without great hazard to thy person, and griefe to mine.

I haue perused hir letters which in my simple iudge­ment are so farre from allowing thy suit, that they séeme to loath thy seruice. I will not flatter thée in thy follies, she is no matche for thée, nor thou for hir, the one wan­ting lyuing to maintaine a wife, the other birthe to ad­uaunce an husband. Surius whom I remember thou did­dest name in thy discourse, I remember in the Court, a man of great birth and noble bloud, singular wit & rare personage, if he goe about to get credite, I muse what hope thou couldest conceiue to haue a good countenance. Well Philautus to set downe precepts against thy Loue, will nothing preuayle, to perswade thée to goe forward, were very perillous, for I know in the one, loue will re­gard no lawes, & in the other perswasions can purchase to lybertie. Thou art too heady to enter in, wher no héed can helpe one out.

Theseus woulde not goe into the Laborinth without a thréede that might shew him the way out, neither any wise man enter into the crooked corners of loue, vnlesse he knew by what meanes he might get out. Loue which shold cōtinue for euer shold not be begon in an houre, but slowly be taken in hande, and by length of time finished: resemblyng Zeuxis that wise Painter, who in things, that he would haue last long, tooke greatest leasure.

I haue not forgotten one Mistres Frauncis, which the Ladye Flauia gaue thée for a Uiolette, and by thy discription, though she be not equal with Camilla, yet is she fitter for Philautus. If thy humour be such, y ^t nothing canne féede it but loue, cast thy mynde on hir, conferre the impossibilytie thou hast to winne Camilla, with the lykelyhoode thou mayst haue to enioy thy Uyolet: and in [Page 89] this I will endeauour both my wyt and my good will, so that nothing shal want in me, that may work ease in thée. Thy Uiolet if she be honest is worthy of thée, beautifull thou sayest she is, and therefore too worthy: Hoat fire is not onely quenched by the cléere fountaine, nor loue one­ly satisfied by the faire face. Therfore in this tell me thy mynde, y ^t either we may procéede in that matter, or séeke a new medicine. Philautus thus replyed.

OH my good Euphues, I haue neither the power to for­sake mine owne Camilla, nor the heart to deny thy counsaile, it is easie to fall into a nette, but hard to get out. Notwithstanding I will goe against the haire in all thinges, so I may please thée in any thing, O my Camil­la. With that Euphues stayed him, saying.

[...]E that hath sore eyes must not behold the candle, nor he that would leaue his loue, fall to the remembring of his Lady, the one causeth the eye to smart, y ^e other the heart to bléede: well quoth Philautus, I am content to haue the wound searched, yet vnwilling to haue it cured, but si [...]hens that sicke men are not to prescribe diots but to kéepe them, I am ready to take potions, and if wealth serue, to pay thée for them, yet one thing maketh mée to feare that in running after two Hares, I catch neither. And certeinely quoth Euphues, I know many good hun­ters that take more delight to haue the Hare on foote, & neuer catch it, then to haue no cry & yet kil in the fourme: whereby I gesse, there commeth greater delight in the hunting, then in the eating. It may be saide Philautus, but I were then very vnfit for such pastimes, for what sport soeuer I haue all the day, I loue to haue the game in my dish at night.

And truely aunswered Euphues, you are worse made for a hound then a hunter, for you marre your sent with carrē before you start your game, which maketh you hūt [Page] oftentimes counter, whereas if you had kept it pure, you might ere this time haue tourned the Hare you winded, and caught the game you coursed. Why then I perceiue quoth Philautus, that to talke with Gentlewomen, touch­ing the discourses of loue, to eate with them, to conferre with them, to laugh with them, is as great pleasure as to enioy thē, to the which thou maist by some fallacie driue me, but neuer perswade me: For then were it as plea­sant to behold fruit, as to eate them, or to see faire bread as to tast it. Thou errest Philautus, said Euphues, if thou be not of that mind, for he that commeth into fine gardēs is as much recreated to smell the flower, as to gather it. And many we sée more delighted with pictures, then desi­rous to be Painters: the effect of loue is faith, not lust, delightful conference, not detestable concupiscence, which beginneth with folly, and endeth with repentaunce. For mine owne part, I wold wish nothing, if againe I should fall into that vaine, then to haue the company of hir in common conference that I best loued, to heare hir sober talke, hir wise aunsweres, to behold hir sharpe capacitie, and to be perswaded of hir constancie: and in these things do we onely differ from brute beastes, who haue no plea­sure but in sensuall appetite. You preach heresic, quoth Philautus, and besides so repugnant to the text you haue taken, that I am more ready to pul thée out of thy Pul­pit, then to beléeue thy gloses.

I loue the company of women wel, yet to haue them in lawful Matrimony, I like much better, if thy reasōs shold go as currant, thē were loue no tormēt, for hardly doth it fal out with him, that is denyed y ^e sight & talk of his la­dy. Hungry stomackes are not to be sed with sayings a­gainst surfettings, nor thirst to be quenched with sentē ­ces against drunkennes. To loue women & neuer enioy them, is as much as to loue wine, & neuer tast it, or to be delighted w ^t faire apparell, & neuer wear it. An idle loue is y ^t, & fit for him y ^t hath nothing but eares, y ^t is satisfied [Page 90] to hear hir speak, not desirous to haue himself spéed. Why then Euphues, to haue y ^e picture of his Lady, is as much, as to enioy hir presence, & to read hir letters, of as great force, as to heare hir answeres: which if it be, my suit in loue should be as much to the painter to draw hir with an amiable face, as to my Ladye to write an amorous letter, both which, with little suite being obtained, I may liue with loue, and neuer wet my foote, nor breake my sléepes, nor waste my money, nor torment my minde.

But this worketh as much delight in y ^e mind of a lo­uer, as the Apples that hang at Tantalus nose, or y ^e Riuer that runneth close by his chin. And in one word, it wold doe me no more good, to sée my Lady and not to embrace hir, in the heate of my desire, then to sée fire and not to warme me in the extremitie of my colde.

No, no Euphues, thou makest loue nothing but a con­tinuall woing, if thou barre it of the effect, and then is it infinite, if thou allowe it, and yet forbid it, a perpetuall warfare, and then is it intollerable. From this opinion no man shall withdrawe me, that the ende of fishing is catching, not angling: of birding, taking, not whistling: of loue, wedding, not woing Otherwise it is no better then hanging, Euphues smyling to sée Philautus so earnest, vr­ged him againe, in this manner.

WHy Philautus, what harme wer it in loue, if y ^e heart shoulde yeelde his right to the eye, or the fancie his force to the care. I haue read of many, & some I know, betwéene whom ther was as feruent affection as might be, that neuer desired any thing, but swéet talke, and con­tinuall company at bankets, at playes, and other assem­blies, as Phrigius & Pieria, whose cōstant faith was such, that there was neuer word nor thought of any vnclean­nesse. Pigmalion loued his Iuory image, being enamored only by y ^e sight, & why shuld not y ^e chast loue of others, be builded rather in agréeing in heauenly meditations, then [Page] temporal actions. Beléeue me Philautus, if thou knewest what it were to loue, thou wouldest be as farre from the opiniō thou holdest, as I am. Philautus thinking no grea­ter absurditie to be held in the world then this, replyed before the other could ende, as followeth.

IN déede Euphues, if the king would resigne his right to his Legate, then were it not amisse for the heart to yéelde to the eyes. Thou knowest Euphues y ^t the eye is the messenger of loue, not y ^e Master, that the eare is the caryer of newes, the heart the disgester. Besides this sup­pose one haue neither eares to heare his lady speak, nor eyes to sée hir beautie, shall he not therefore be subiect to the impression of loue. If thou answere no, I can alledge diuers, both deafe & blinde, that haue béene wounded, if thou graunt it, thē confesse the heart must haue his hope, which is neyther séeyng nor hearing, and what is the third?

Touching Phrigius and Peria, think them both fooles in this, for he that kéeketh a Hen in his house to cackle & not lay, or a Cocke to crow and not to treade, is not vn­like vnto him y ^t hauing sowen his wheat neuer reapeth it, or reaping it neuer thresheth it, taking more pleasure to sée faire corne then to eat fine bread: Pigmalion ma­keth against this, for Venus séeing him so earnestly to loue, & so effectually to pray, graunted him his requeste, which had he not by importunate suite obtained, I doubt not but he would rather haue hewed hir in péeces thē ho­noured hir with passions, and set hir vp in some Temple for an image, not kept hir in his house for a wife. He y ^t desireth only to talke & view without any further suite, is not farre different from him that liketh to sée a payn­ted rose better then to smel to a perfect Uiolet, or to heare a birde sing in a bush, rather then to haue hir at home in his owne cage.

This will I followe, that to pleade for loue, and [Page 91] request nothing but lookes, and to deserue workes, and liue only by words, is as one should plowe his ground, & neuer so we it, grinde his colours and neuer paint, saddle his horse and neuer ryde.

As they were thus communing, there came from the Ladie Flauia a Gentleman, who inuited them both that night to supper, which they with humble thankes giuen promised to doe so, and till supper time I leaue them de­bating their question.

Now Gentlewomen, in this matter I would I knew your mindes, and yet I can somewhat gesse at your mea­ninges, if any of you shoulde loue a Gentleman of such perfection as you can wishe, woulde it content you only to heare him, to sée him daunce, to marke his personage, to delyght in his wit, to wonder at all his qualyties, & de­sire no other solace? If you like to heare his pleasant voice to sing, his fine singers to play, his proper personage to vn­dertake any exployte, woulde you couet no more of your loue? As good it were to be silent and think no, as to blush and say I.

I must néeds conclude with Philautus, though I should cauil with Euphues, that the ende of loue, is the ful frui­tion of the partie beloued, at all times and in all places. For it cannot follow in reason, that bicause the sauce is good which shold prouoke mine appetite, therfore I shold forsake the meat for which it was made. Beléeue me the qualities of the minde, the beautie of the body, either in man or woman, are but sauce to whet our stomackes, not meate to fill them. For they that lyue by the view of beautie still, looke very leane, and they that séede onely vppon vertue at boorde, will goe with an hungry belly to bedde.

But I will not craue héere in, your resolute aun­swere, bicause betwéene them it was not determined, but euery one as he lyketh, and then.

Euphues and Philautus being now againe sent for to [Page] the Lady Flauia hir house, they came presently, wher they found the worthy Gentleman Surius, Camilla, Mistresse Frauncis, with many other Gentlemē and Gentlewomē.

At their first entraunce doing their dutie, they saluted all the company, and were welcommed.

The Lady Flauia entertained them both very louing­ly, thanking Philautus for his last companye, saying be merry Gentleman at this time of the yeare, a Uiolet is better than a Rose, and so she arose and went hir waye, leauing Philautus in a muse at hir wordes, who before was in a maze at Camillas lookes. Camilla came to Eu­phues in this manner.

I am sory Euphues that we haue no gréene Rushes, considering you haue ben so great a straunger, you make me almost to thinke that of you, which commonly I am not accustomed to iudge of any, that either you thought your selfe too good, or our chéere too badde, other cause of absence I cannot imagine, vnlesse seing vs very idle, you sought meanes to be well imployed, but I pray you héer­after be bolde, and those things which were amisse shall be redressed, for we-wil haue Quailes to amend your cō ­mons, and some questions to sharpen your wits, so that you shal neither finde fault with your dyot for the grose­nesse, nor with your exercise for easinesse. As for your fel­low & friend Philautus we are bound to him, for he wold oftentimes see vs, but seldome eat with vs, which made vs thinke that he cared more for our company, than our meate.

Euphues as one that knew his good, aunswered hir in this wise.

Faire Lady, it were vnséemely to strew gréene rushes for his comming, whose company is not worth a straw, or to accompt him a straunger, whose boldnesse, hath ben straunge to all those that knew him to be a straunger.

The small abilitie in me to requit, compared with the great chéere I receiued, might happely make me refrain [Page 92] which is contrary to your coniecture: Whether was I euer so busied in any weightie affaires, which I accomp­ted not as lost time in respect of the exercise I alwayes found in your company, which maketh me thinke y ^t your latter obiection procéeded rather to conuince me for a tru­ant, then to manifest a truth.

As for the Quailes you promise me, I can be content with béefe, and for the questions they must be easie, els shall I not aunswere them, for my wit will shew with what grose dyot I haue bene brought vp, so that confer­ring my rude replyes with my base birth, you wil think that meane chéere will serue me, and resonable questions deceiue me, so that I shall neither finde fault for my re­past, nor fauour for my reasons, Philautus in déede ta­keth as much delyght in good company as in good cates, who shall aunswere for himself, with that Philautus said.

Truly Camilla where I thinke my selfe welcome, I loue to be bolde, and when my stomacke is filled I care for no meat, so that I hope you will not blame me, if I come often and eate lyttle.

I do not blame you by my faith quoth Camilla, you mistake me, for the oftner you come, the better welcome, and the lesse you eate, the more is saued.

Much talke passed, which being onely as it wer a re­petition of former things, I omit as superfluous, but this I must note, that Camilla earnestly desired Surius to be acquainted with Euphues, who very willingly accom­plished hir request, desiring Euphues for the good report he had heard of him, that he would be as bold with him, as with any one in England, Euphues humbly shewing his duetye, promised also as occasion shoulde serue, to trye him.

It now grew toward Supper time, when the table being couered, and the meate serued in, Lady Flauia pla­ced Surius ouer against Camilla, and Philautus next Mi­stres Frauncis, she tooke Euphues and the rest, and placed [Page] them in such order, as she thought best. What chéere they had I know not, what talke they vsed I heard not: but Supper being ended, they sate still, the Lady Flauia spea­king as followeth.

GEntlemen & Gentlewomen these Lenten Euenings be long, and a shame it were to goe to bed: colde they are, and therefore follye it were to walke abroade: to play at Cardes is common, at Chestes tedious, at Dice vnseemely, with Christmas games vntimely. In my opi­nion therefore, to passe away these long nights, I would haue some pastime that might be pleasaunt, but not vn­profitable, rare but not without reasoning: so shal we all accompt the Euening wel spent, be it neuer so long, which otherwise would be tedious, were it neuer so short.

Surius the best in the company, & therefore best wor­thy to aunswere, and the wisest, and therefore best able, replyed in this manner.

GOod Madame you haue preuented my request with your owne, for as the case now standeth, there can be nothing either more agréeable to my humour or these Gentlewomens desires, to vse some discourse, aswell to renue olde traditions, which haue ben héertosore vsed, as to encrease friendship, which hath ben by the meanes of certeine odde persons defaced. Euery one gaue his con­sent with Surius, yéelding the choyce of that nights pa­stime, to the discretion of the Lady Flauia, who thus pro­posed hir minde.

Your taske Surius shall be to dispute with Camilla, & chuse your owne argument, Philautus shall argue with Mistres Frauncis, Martius with my selfe. And all hauing finished their discourses, Euphues shal be as Iudge, who▪ hath done best, and whatsoeuer he shal allot either for re­ward, to y ^e worthiest, or for penance to y ^e worst, shalbe pre­sently accōplished. This liked thē al excéedingly. And thus [Page 93] Surius with a good grace & pleasant speach, began to en­ter the listes with Camilla.

FAyre Lady, you know I flatter not, I haue read y ^t the sting of an Aspe were incurable, had not nature giuen them dimme eyes, and the beautie of a woman no lesse infectious, had not nature bestowed vpon thē gētle harts, which maketh me ground my reason vpon this common place, that beautifull women are euer merciful, if merci­full, vertuous, if vertuous constant, if constant, though no more than goddesses, yet no lesse then Saintes, all these things graunted, I vrge my question without condition.

If Camilla, one wounded with your beautie (for vnder that name I comprehend all other vertues) should sue to open his affectiō, serue to trye it, & driue you to so narrow a point, that were you neuer so incredulous, he shoulde proue it, yea so farre to be from suspicion of deceipt, that you woulde confesse he were cleare from distrust, what aunswere would you make, if you gaue your consent, or what excuse if you deny his curtesie.

Camilla, who desired nothing more then to be questio­ning with Surius, with a modest countenance, yet some­what bashfull (which added more commondation to hir speach then disgrace) replyed in this manner.

THough there be no cause noble Gentleman, to suspect an iniury where a good turne hath ben receiued [...]ot is it wisedome to be careful, what answere be made, where the questiō is difficult. I haue heard that the Torteise in India, when the Sunne shineth swimmeth aboue the wa­ter with hir backe, & being delighted with the faire wea­ther, forgetteth hir selfe, vntill the heate of the Sunne so harden hir shell, that she cannot sincke when she would▪ whereby she is caught. And so may it fare with me, that in this good company, dasplaying my mind, hauing more regarde to my delight in talking, then to the eares of the hearers, I forget what I speake, and so [...]e taken insou [...] [Page] thing, I should not vtter, which happely y ^e itching eares of young Gentlemen would so canuas, that when I wold call it in, I cannot, and so be caught with the Torteise, when I would not.

Therefore if any thing be spokē either vnwares or vn­iustly, I am to crane pardon for both: hauing but a weak memory, and a worse witte, which you cannot deny mée for that we saye women are to be borne with all if they offende against their wills, and not much to be blamed if they trip with their wills, y ^e one procéeding of forgetful­nesse, the other, of their naturall weakenesse, but to the matter.

IF my beautie (which God knowes how simple it is) should entangle any with desire, then should I thus think, that either he were enflamed with lust rather thē loue (for that he is moued by my countenaunce, not en­quiring of my cōditions,) or els that I gaue some occasi­on of lightnes, bicause he gathereth a hope to speede, wher he neuer had the heart to speak. But if at the last I shold perceiue that his faith were tryed lyke gold in the fire, that his affection proceded from a mind to please, not frō a mouth to delude, then would I either answere his loue with lyking, or weane him from it by reason. For I hope sir you wil not thinke this, but that there should be in a womā aswel a tongue to deny, as in a mā to desire, that as men haue reason to like for beautie, where they loue, so womē haue wit to refuse for sundry causes, wher they loue not.

Otherwise were we bound to such an inconuenience, that whosoeuer serued vs, we should aunswere his suite, when in euery respect we mistike his conditions, so that Nature might be said to frame vs for others humours, not for our owne appetites. Where-in to some wée should be thought very courteous, but to the most, scarce honest. For mine owne part, if there be any thing in mée [Page 94] to be lyked of any, I thinke it reason to bestowe on such a one, as hath also somwhat to content me, so that wher I know my selse loued, and doe loue againe, I would vpon iust tryall of his constancie, take him. Surius without any stoppe or long pause replyed presently.

LAdy if the Torteyse you spake off in India, were as cunning in swimming, as you are in speking he wold neither feare the heate of y ^e Sunne, nor the ginne of the Fisher. But that excuse was brought in, rather to shewe what you coulde say, then to craue pardon, for that you haue said. But to your aunswere.

What your beautie is, I will not here dispute, least ei­ther your modest eares should glow to heare your owne prayses, or my smooth tongue trippe in being curious to your perfection, so y ^t what I cannot commend sufficient­ly, I wil not cease continually to meruaile at. You wan­der in one thing out of y ^e way, where you say that many are enflamed with y ^e countenance, not enquiring of the conditions, when this position was before grounded, that ther was none beautifull, but she was also mercifull, and so drawing by the face of hir beauty, al other morral ver­tues, for as one ring being touched with the Loadstone draweth another, and that his fellowe, till it come to a thaine, so a Lady endewed with beautie, pulleth on cur­tesie, curtesie mercye, & one vertue linkes it selfe to ano­ther, vntill there be a rare perfection.

Besides touching your owne lightnesse, you must not imagine that loue bréedeth in the heart of man by your lookes, but by his own eyes, neither by your words whē you speak wittily, but by his owne eares, which conceiue aptly. So that were you dumbe and could not speake, or blind, and could not sée, yet should you be beloued, which argueth plainly, that the eye of the man is y ^e arrow, the beautie of the woman the white, which shooteth not, but receiueth, being the patient, not the agent: vppon tryall [Page] you confesse you would trust, but what tryal you require you conceale, which maketh mo suspecte that either you would haue a triall without meane, or without ende, ei­ther not to be sustained being impossible, or not to be fi­nished being infinite. Wherin you would haue one run in a circle, wher there is no way out, or build in y ^e ayre, where there is no meanes howe.

This trial Camilla must be sifted to narrower points, least in séeking to trie your louer like a Ienet, you tyre him like a Iade.

Then you require this libertie (which truely I cannot denie you) that you may haue y ^e choyce as well to refuse, as the man hath to offer, requiring by that reason some qualities in the person you would bestow your loue on: yet craftily hiding what properties either please you best, or like women well: wherein againe you moue a doubt, whether personage, or wealth, or wit, or all, are to be re­quired: so that what with the close tryal of his faith, and the subtill wishing of his qualities, you make either your Louer so holy, that for faith he must be made al of truth, or so exquisite that for shape he must be framed in ware: which if it be your opinion, the beautie you haue will be withered before you be wedded, & your wooers good olde Gentlemen before they be spéeders.

Camilla not permitting Surius to leape ouer y ^e hedge, which she set for to kéepe him in, with a smiling counte­naunce shaped him this aunswere.

IF your position be graunted, that wher beautie is, ther is also vertue, then might you adde that where a faire flower is, there is also a swéete sauour, which how repug­naunt it is to our common experience, there is none but knoweth, and how contrary the other is to trueth, there is none but séeth. Why then do you not set down this for a rule which is as agréeable to reason, y ^t Rhodope being beautiful (if a good complection and faire fauour be tear­med [Page 95] beautie) was also vertuous? that Lais excelling, was also honest? that Phrine surpassing them both in beautie, was also curteous? But it is a reason among your Philo­sophers, that the disposition of the minde, foloweth the cō ­position of y ^e body, how true in arguing it may be, I know not, how false in tryall it is, who knoweth not?

Beautie, though it be amiable, worketh many things contrary to hir fayre shew, not vnlyke vnto siluer, which being white, draweth blacke lynes, or resembling the tal trées in Ida, which allured many to rest in them vnder their shadow, and then infected them with their sent.

Now where-as you sette downe, that loue commeth not from the eyes of the woman, but from the glaunces of the man (vnder correction be it spoken) it is as far from the trueth, as the head from the toe. For were a Ladye blinde, in what can she be beautifull? if dumbe, in what manifest hir wit? when as the eye hath euer ben thought the Pearle of the face, and the tongue the Ambassador of the heart? If there were such a Lady in this companye Surius that should winke with both eyes, when you wold haue hir sée your amorous lookes, or bée no blabbe of hir tongue, when you would haue hir aunswere to your que­stions, I can-not thinke, that either hir vertuous condi­tions, or hir white and red complection could moue you to loue.

Although this might somewhat procure your lyking, that doing what you lyst, she will not see it, and speaking what you would, she wil not vtter it, two notable vertues and rare in our sex, patience, and silence.

But why talke I about Ladyes that haue no eyes, when there is no man that wil loue them, if he himselfe haue eyes. More reson ther is to wooe one that is dumbe, for that she cannot deny your suite, and yet hauing eares to heare, she may as well giue an answere with a signe as a sentence. But to the purpose.

Loue commeth not from him that loueth, but from the [Page] partie loued, els must he take his loue vppon no cause, and then it is lust, or thinke himselfe the cause, and then it is no loue. Then must you conclude thus, if there be not in women the occasion, they are foolrs to trust men y ^t praise them, if the cause be in them, then are not men wise to arrogate it to themselues.

It is the eye of the women that is made of Adamant, the hart of the man that is framed of yron, and I cannot think you wil say that the vertue attractiue is in y ^e yron which is drawen by force, but in the Adamant that searcheth it perforce. And this is the reason, that manye men haue bene entangled against their wills with loue, and kept in it, with their wills.

You know Surius that the fire is in the flint that is striken, not in the stéele that striketh, the light in the Sun that lendeth, not in the Moone that boroweth, the loue in the woman that is serued, not in the man that sueth.

The similitude you brought in of the arrow, flew no­thing right to beautie, wherfore I must shoote that shafte at your owne brest. For if the eye of man be the arrow, & beautie the white (a faire marke for him that draweth in Cupids bow) then must it necessarily ensue, that y ^e archer desireth with an ayme to hitte the white, not y ^e white the arrow, that the marke allureth the Archer, not the shooter the marke, and therfore is Venus sayd in one eye to haue two Apples, which is cōmonly applyed to those y ^t witch with the eyes, and not those that wooe with their eyes.

Touching trial, I am neither so foolish to desire things impossible, nor so froward to request that which hath no ende [...] [...]ut words shall neuer make me beléeue without workes, least in following a faire shadow, I lose the firme substance, and in one word set downe the only trial that a Lady requireth of hir louer, it is this, that he performe as much as he sware, that euery othe be a déede, euery gloase a gospell, promising nothing in his talke, that hée perfourme not in his triall.

[Page 96] The qualities that are required of the minde are good conditions, as temperance, not to excéed in dyet, chastitie, not to sin in desire, constancie, not to couet chaunge, wit to delight, wisdome to instruct, mirth to please without of­fence, and modestie to gouerne without precisenesse.

Concerning the body, as there is no Gentlewoman so curious to haue him in print, so is ther no one so careles to haue him a wretch, only his right shape to shew him a man, his Christendom to proue his faith, indifferēt welth to maintaine his family, expecting all thinges necessary, nothing superfluous. And to conclude w ^t you Surius, vn­lesse I might haue such a one, I had as leaue be buried as maried, wishing rather to haue no beautie and dye a chast virgin, thē no ioy & liue a cursed wife. Surius as one daunted hauing lyttle to answere, yet delighted to heare hir speake, with a short speach vttered these words.

I Perceiue Camilla, that be your cloath neuer so bad, it wil take some colour, & your cause neuer so false, it will beare some shew of probabilitie, wherin you ma­nifest the right nature of a woman, who hauing no way to winne, thinketh to ouer-come with wordes. This I gather by your aunswere, that beautie maye haue fayre leaues, and foule fruit, that all that are amiable are not honest, that loue procéedeth of the womans perfection, and the mans follies, that the triall looked for, is to performe whatsoeuer they promise, that in minde he be vertuous, in body comely, suche a husbande in my opinion is to bée wished for, but not looked for. Take héede Camilla, that séeking all the Wood for a streight sticke, you chuse not at the last a crooked staffe, or describing a good coun [...]aile to others, thou thy selfe followe the worste: much lyke to Chius, who selling the best wine to others, dranke him­selfe of the lées.

Truly quoth Camilla, my Wool was blacke, and there­fore [Page] it could take no other colour, and my cause good, and therefore admitteth no cauil: as for the rules I set downe of loue, they wer not coyned of me, but learned, & beeing so true, beleeued. If my fortune be soil that searching for a wande, I gather a camocke, or selling wine to other, I drinke viniger my self, I must be content y ^t of the worst poore helpe patience, which by so much the more is to be borne, by how much the more it is perforce.

As Surius was speaking, the Lady Flauia preuented him, saying, it is time y ^t you breake off your speach, least we haue nothing to speake, for should you wade any far­ther, you would both waste the night, and leaue vs no time, and take our reasons, and leaue vs no matter, that euery one therfore may say somwhat, we commaund you to cease, that you haue both sayde so well, we giue you thankes. Thus letting Surius and Camilla to whisper by themselues (whose talke we wil not heare) the Lady be­gan in this manner to gréete Martius.

We sée Martius that wher young folkes are, they treat of loue, when souldiers méete they conferre of war, pain­ters of their colours, Musitians of their crochets, & eue­ry one talketh of that most, he lyketh best. Which séeing it is so, it behoueth vs, that haue more yeres, to haue more wisedome, not to measure our talke by the affections we haue had, but by those we should haue.

In this therefore I would know thy minde, whether it be conuenient for women to haunt such places where Gentlemen are, or for men to haue accesse to Gentlewo­men, which me thinketh in reason can-not be tollerable, knowing that ther is nothing more pernitious to either, then loue, and that loue breedeth by nothing sooner than lookes. They that feare water will come néere no wells, they that stande in dread of burning, flye from the fire: & ought not they that wold not be entangled with desire, to refraine company? If loue haue the pangs which y ^e passi­ [...]na [...] set downe, why do they not abstain from the cause? [Page 97] if it be pleasant why do they dispraise it.

We shunne the place of pestilence for feare of infec­tion, the eyes of Catherismes, bicause of diseases, y ^e sight of y ^e Basilisk, for dread of death, and shall we not eschewe the company of them that may entrap vs in loue, which is more bitter then any distruction?

If we flye théeues that stale our goods, shall wée follow murtherers that cut our throates? If we be hée­die to come where Waspes be, least we be strong▪ shall we hazarde to runne where Cupid is, where we shalbée stifeled? Truelye Martius in my opinion there is no­thing either more repugnant to reason, or abhorring from nature, then to séeke that wée shoulde shunne, leauing the cleare streame to drinke of the muddy ditch, or in the extreamitie of heate to lye in the parching Sunne, when he may sléepe in the colde shaddowe, or being frée frō fancy, to seeke after loue, which is as much as to coole a hotte Liuer with strong wine, or to cure a weake stomake with raw flesh. In this I wold heare thy sentence, induced the rather to this discourse, for that Surius and Camilla haue begunne it, then that I lyke it: Loue in me hath neither power to commaunde, nor perswasion to entreat. Which how idle a thing it is, and how pestilent to youth, I partly knowe, and you I am sure can gesse.

Martius not very young to discourse of these matters, yet desirous to vtter his minde, whether it were to flatter Surius in his will, or to make triall of the Ladies wit: Began thus to frame his aunswere.

MAdam, there is in Chio the Image of Diana whiche to those that enter séemeth sharpe and sower, but returning after their suites made, looketh with a merrie and pleasaunt countenaunce. And it may bée that at the entraunce of my discourse yée will bende your browes as one displeased, but hearing my proofe be [Page] delighted and satisfied.

The question you moue is, whether it be requisite, that Gentlemen and Gentlewomen should méete.

Truly among louers it is conuenient to augement de­sire, amongst those that are firme, necessary to main­taine societie. For to take away all méeting for feare of loue, were to kindle amongst all, the fire of hate. There is greater daunger Madame, by absence, whiche brée­deth melancholy, then by presence, which engendreth affection.

If the sight be so perillous, that the companye shoulde be barred, why then admitte you those to sée banquets, that may thereby surfet, or suffer them to eate their meate by a candle that haue sore eyes? To be sepera­ted from one I loue, woulde make me more constant, and to kéepe company with hir I loue not, woulde not kindle desire. Loue commeth as well in at the eares, by the report of good conditions, as in at the eyes by the amiable countenaunce, whiche is the cause that diuers haue loued those they neuer sawe, and séene those they neuer loued.

You alledge that those that feare drowning, come néere no wells, nor they that dread burning, néere no fire. Why then let them stande in doubt also to washe their handes in a shallowe brooke: for that Serapus fal­ling into a channell was drowned: and let him that is colde neuer warme his hands, for that a sparke fell into the eyes of Actina, whereoff she dyed. Let none come into the company of women, for that diuers haue bene allured to loue, and being refused, haue vsed violence to themselues.

Let this be set downe for a law, that none walke a­broad in the day but men, least méeting a beautifull wo­man, he fall in loue, and loose his libertie.

I thinke Madam you will not be so precise, to cutte off all conference, bicause loue commeth by often com­munication, [Page 98] which if you do, let vs all now presently de­part, least in séeing the beautie which daseleth our eyes, and hearing the wisedome which tickleth our eares, wée be enflamed with loue.

But you shall neuer beate the Flye from the Can­dell though he burne, nor the Quaile from the Hemloch though it be poyson, nor the louer from the company of his Ladie though it be perillous.

It falleth out sundrye times, that companye is the cause to shake off loue, working the effectes of the roote Rubarbe, which being full of choler, purgeth choler, or of the Scorpions sting, which being full of poyson, is a re­medy for poyson.

But this I conclude, that to barre one that is in loue of the company of his Ladie, maketh him rather mad then mortified, for him to refraine that neuer knew loue, is either to suspect him of folly without cause, or the next way for him to fall into folly when he knoweth the cause.

A louer is like y ^e hearb Heliotropium, which alwayes enclyneth to that place where the Sunne shineth, and being depriued of the Sunne, dyeth. For as Lunaris hearbe, as long as the Moone wareth, bringeth forth leaues, and in the waning shaketh them off: so a louer whilst he is in the company of his Lady, where all ioyes encrease, vttereth manye pleasaunt conceites, but bani­shed from the sight of his Mistris, where all mirth de­creaseth either lyueth in melancholye, or dyeth with de­speration.

The Ladye Flauia speaking in his cast, procéeded in this manner.

LKuely Martius I had not thought that as yet your costes tooth stucke in your mouth, or that so olde a trewant in loue, coulde hetherto remember his lesson. You séeme not to inferre that it is requisite they shoulde [Page] méete, but being in loue y ^t it is conuenient, least falling i [...]o a madde moode, they pine in their owne peuishnesse. Why then let it follow, that the Drunckarde which sur­ [...]eth with wine be alwayes quaffing, bicause he liketh it, or the Epicure which glutteth him-selfe with meate be euer eating, for that it contenteth him not séeking at any time the meanes to redresse their vices, but to renue [...]. But it fareth with the Louer as it doth with him that powreth in much wine, who is euer more thirstie, then he that drinketh moderately, for hauing once tasted the delights of loue, he desireth most the thing that hur­teth him most, not laying a plaister to the wound, but a corrasiue.

I am of this minde, that if it be daungerous, to laye Flare to the fire, Salte to the eyes, Sulphure to y ^e nose, that then it cannot bée but perillous to let one Louer come in presence of the other. For Surius ouer-hearing the Lady, and séeing hir so carnest, although he wer more earnest in his suite to Camilla, cut hir off with these wordes.

GOod Madame giue me leaue either to departe, or to speake, for in trueth you gall mée more with these tearmes, then you wist, in séeming to inueigh so bitterly against the méeting of louers, whiche is the onelye Marrowe of loue, and though I doubt not but that Martius is sufficiently armed to aunswere you, yet would I not haue those reasons refelled, which I loath to haue repeated. It may be you vtter them not of mal­lice you beare to loue, but onely to moue controuersie where there is no question: For if thou enuie to haue louers méete, why did you graunt vs, if allowe it, why séeke you to separate vs?

The good Ladye coulde not refraine from laughter, when she sawe Surius so angrye, who in the middest of his owne tale was troubled with hirs, whom shée thus [Page 99] againe aunswered.

I cry you mercy gentleman, I had not thought to haue catched you, when I fished for an other, but I perceiue now, y ^t with one beane it is easie to get two Pigeons, & with one bayte to haue diuers bits, I see that others may gesse where the shooe wrings, besides him that weares it.

Madame quoth Surius, you haue caught a Frog, if I be not deceiued, and therefore as good it were not to hurt him, as not to eate him, but if all this while you angled to haue a bit at a Louer, you should haue vsed no bitter medicines but pleasaunt baites.

I cannot tell aunswered Flauia, whether my bayght were bitter or not, but sure I am I haue the Fish by the gyll that doth me good.

Camilla not thinking to be silent, put in hir speake as she thought into the best whéele, saying.

LAdye your cunning maye deceiue you in fishing with an Angle, therefore to catch him you would haue, you were best to vse a Nette. A Nette quoth Flauia, I néede none, for my Fish playeth in a net already, with that Su­rius began to winch, replying immediately, So doth ma­ny a Fish good Lady that slippeth out, when the Fisher thinketh him fast in, and it may be, that either your net is too weake to holde him, or your hande too wet. A wet hande quoth Flauia will holde a dead Hearing: I quoth Surius, but Eeles are no Hearings, but Louers are, sayd Flauia.

Surius not willyng to haue the Grasse mowen, where off he ment to make his haye, began thus to con­clude.

GOod Lady leaue off fishing for this time, and though it be Lent, rather break a statute which is but penal, than sew a Ponde that maye be perpetuall.

I am content quoth Flauia, rather to fast for once, than [Page] to want a pleasure for euer: yet Surius betwixt vs two, I will at large proue, that ther is nothing in loue more venemous than méeting, which filleth the minde with griefe, and the body with diseases, for hauing the one, he cannot faile of the other. But now Philautus and Néece Frauncis, since I am cut off, begin you: but be short, bi­cause the time is short, and that I was more short than I would.

Frauncis who was euer of wit quicke, and of nature pleasaunt, seeing Philautus all this while to be in his dumpes, began thus to play with him.

GEntleman, either you are musing who shal be your se­conde wife, or who shall father your first childe, els would you not all this while hang your head, neither at­tending to the discourses that you haue heard, nor regar­ding the company you are in: or it maye be (which of both coniectures is lykelyest) that hearing so much talke of loue, you are either driuen to the remembrance of the Italian Ladies which once you serued, or els to the seruice of those in England, which you haue since your comming seene, for as Andromache, when so euer she sawe the Tombe of Hector could not refraine from wéeping, or as Laodamia coulde neuer beholde the picture of Protesilaus in waxe, but she alwayes fainted: so Louers whensoeuer they view the Image of their Ladyes, though not the same substaunce, yet the similitude in shaddow, they are so benummed in their ioyntes, and so berefte of theyr wits, that they haue neither the power to moue their bo­dies to shewe lyfe, nor their tongues to make aunswere, so that I thinking that with your other sences, you had also lost your smellyng, thought rather to be a Thorne, whose poynt might make you feele some-what, than a Uyolet whose sauour could cause you to smell nothing.

Philautus séeing this Gentlewoman so pleasauntlye disposed, replyed in this manner.

[Page 100] GEntle-woman to studie for a seconde wife, before I knowe my first, were to resemble the good huswife in Naples, who tooke thought to bring foorth hir Chickens, before she had Hennes to laye Egges, and to muse who should father my first childe, wer to doubt when the Cow is mine, who should owe the Calfe. But I will neither be so hastie to beate my braynes about two wiues, bée­fore I know where to get one, nor so iealous to mistrust hir fidelytie, when I haue one. Touching the view of la­dies, or the remembraunce of my loues, mée thinketh it should rather sharp the point in me, then abate the edge. My sences are not lost, though my labour be, & therefore my good Uyolet pricke not him forward with sharpnesse, whom thou shouldest rather comfort with sauours. But to put you out of doubt that my wits were not all this while a wol-gathering, I was debating with my selfe, whether in loue, it wer better to be constant, bewraying all the counsayles, or secret being readye euery houre to flinch: And so many reasons came to confirme eyther, that I coulde not be resolued in anye. To be constant, what thing more requisite in loue, when it shall alwayes be gréene lyke the Iuie, though the Sunne parch it, that shall euer be hard like the true Diamond, though y ^e ham­mer beate it, that stil groweth with the good vine, though the knife cutte it. Constancie is lyke vnto the Storke, who wheresoeuer she flye commeth into no Neaste, but hir owne, or the Lapwing whom nothing can driue from hir young ones but death: But to reueale the secrets of Loue, the counsayles, the conclusions, what grea­ter despite to his Ladye, or more shamefull discredite to him-selfe canne bée imagined, when there shall no Letter passe but it shall be disclosed, no talke vtte­red, but it shall be agayne repeated, nothing done but it shall be reuealed: Which when I considered, me thought it better, to haue one that shoulde bée secreate though [Page] fickle, than a blabbe, though constant. For what is there in the world that more delighteth a louer than secrecie, which is voyd of feare, with-out suspition, frée from en­uie: the onely hope a woman hath to buyld both hir ho­nour and honestie vppon.

The tongue of a louer should be lyke the point in the Diall, which though it goe, none can sée it gooing, or a young trée, which though it growe, none can perceiue it growing, hauing alwaies the stone in their mouth, which the Cranes vse, when they flye ouer Mountaines, least they make a noyse, but to be silent, and lyghtlye to estéeme of his Lady, to shake hir off, though he be secret, to chaunge for euery thing, though he bewraye nothing, is the onely thing that cutteth the heart in péeces, of a true and constant louer, which déepely waying with my selfe, I preferred him that would neuer remoue, though he reueale all, before him that would conceale all, and euer bée flyding: thus wasting too and fro, I appeale to you my good Uyolet, whether in loue be more required secrecie or constancie.

Frauncis with hir accustomable bolonesse yet modest­ly, replyed as followeth.

GEntleman, if I shoulde aske you whether in the ma­king of a good sword, yron were more to be required or steele, sure I am you would aunswere that both were necessary: Or if I should be so curious, to demaund whe­ther in a tale tolde to your Ladyes disposition, or menti­on most conuenient, I cannot think but you wold iudge them both expedient, for as one mettal is to be tempered with an other in fashioning a good blade, least either be­ing al of steele it quickly break, or al of yron it neuer cut: so fareth it in speach, which if it be not seasoned as well with witte to moue delyght, as with Arte to manifest cunning, there is no eloquence, and in no other manner standeth it with Loue, for to be secret and not constant, [Page 101] or constant and not secrete, were to builde a house of morter with-out stones, or a wall of stones with-out morter.

There is no liuely picture drawen without couldur, no curious image wrought with one toole, no perfecte Musicke played with one string, and wouldst thou haue loue the patterne of eternitie, couloured either with con­stancie alone, or onely secrecie?

There must in euery triangle be thrée lines, she first beginneth, the seconde augmenteth, the thirde con­cludeth it a figure. So in loue thrée vertues, affection, which draweth the heart, secrecte, which inereaseth the hope, constancie, which finish the wor [...]ie: without any of these lynes there can be no triangle, with-out any of these vertues, no loue.

There is no man that runneth with one ledgge, no birde that flyeth with one winge, no loue that l [...]eth with one lym. Loue is lykened to the Emerald [...] cracketh rather then consenteth to any [...], and can there be any greater villany then being secreat, not to be constant, or being constant not to be se [...]t [...]. But it falleth out with those that being constant and yet full of bable, as it doth with the serpent Fabulus & the [...]i­per, who burst with their owne brood, as these [...] [...]o [...]e with their owne tongues.

It is no question Philautus to astle which is vest [...] being not ioyned there is neuer a good▪ If thou make a question where there is no doubt, thou must take an aunswere where there is no reason. Why then also doest thou not enquire whether it were better for a horse to want his foreleggs or his hinder, when hauing not all he cannot trauelt: why art thou not inquisitiue whether it were more conuenient for the wrastlers in the games of Olympia to be with-out armes or with­out féete, or for frées to want rootes or lacke toppes, when either is impossible? Ther is no true louer beléeue [Page] me Philautus▪ sence telleth me so, not tryall that hath not faith, secrecie, and constancie. If thou want, ei­ther it is lust, no loue, and that thou hast not them all, thy profounde question assureth mée: which if thou did­dest aske to trie my wit, thou thoughtest me very dull, if thou resolue thy selfe of a doubt, I cannot thinke thée ve­ry sharps.

Philatus that perceiued hir to be so sharpe, thought once againe like a whetstone to make hir sharper, and in these words returned his aunswere.

MY swéete Uiolet, you are not unlike vnto those, who hauing gotten the startte in a race, thinke none to be néere their héeles, bicause they be formost: For hauing the tale in your mouth, you imagine it is all trueth, and that none can controll it.

Frauncis who was not willing to heare him goe for­ward in so fonde an argument, cutte him off before h [...] should come to his conclusion.

GEntleman, the faster you runne after me, the farther you are from me: therefore I woulde wishe you to take héede, that in séeking to strike at my héeles, you trippe not vp your owne▪ You woulde faine with your wit cast a white vppon blacke, wherein you are not vn­like vnto those, that séeing their shadow very short in the Sunne▪ thinke to for [...]h their heade with their héele, and putting forth their legge are farther from it, then when they stoode still. In my opinion it were better to sit on the ground with little ease, then to ryse and fall with great daunger.

Philatus being in a maze to what ende this talke should tend, thought that either Camilla had made hir priuie to his loue, or that she meant by suspitiō to entrap him: Therefore meaning to leaue his former question, and to aunswere hir speach, procéeded thus.

[Page 102] Mystris Frauncis, you resemble in your sayings the Painter Tamantes, in whose pi [...]tures there was euer, more vnderstoode then painted, for [...] a glose you séeme to shadow that, which in [...] you will not shewe. It cannot be my Uiolet that the faster I runne after you, the farther I shoulde be from you [...] that either you haue winges [...] your [...], [...] thornes thrust into mine. The last [...] catcheth the Hare, though the [...] him [...] the flowe. Snaile climeth the Tower at law, though the swift Swallowe mount it, the last [...]st [...] the go [...]e, sometimes though the lightest be née [...] it▪ [...]n [...] I had as liefe stande at the recei [...]e, as at the [...] running rather end [...]re long with an [...]ble, then leaue off being out of winde, with a [...]: Es­specially when I runne as Hippomanes [...] with Atlan­ta, who was last in the course, bu [...] [...] the crowne: So that I gesse that woemen are either easie to be out stripped, or writing.

I séeke not to trippe at you, [...] I might to hin­der you and hurt my selfe: for in sitting your course by striking at your [...] héeles, you woulde when I should [...]raue pardon, shew me a high [...].

As for my shadow, I neuer goe as out [...] [...]th it, but when the Sunne is at the highest, for then is my shadow at the shortest, so that it is not [...] its to t [...]u [...]h my heade with my héele, when it lye [...] [...] vnder my héele.

You say it is better so fit [...] to [...] and [...], and I say he that [...] clymbeth for [...] of falling▪ is like vnto him that [...] of sur [...]e­ting.

If you thinke either the [...] so [...], where­in I runne, that I must [...]éede [...] fa [...], [...] feete so chill that I must néedes founder, [...] chaunge thy courte heere-after [...] but [...] meane to [...] it nowe: [Page] for I had rather fal out of a low window to the ground then hang in the midde way by a bryer.

Frauncis who tooke no little pleasure to heare Philau­tus talke began to come on roundly in these tearmes.

IT is a signe Gentleman that your footemanshippe is better then your stomacke, for whatsoeuer you say, me thinketh you had rather be helde in a slip, then let slippe, wherein you resemble the grayehounde, that séeing his game, leapeth vppon him that holdeth him, not running after that he is helde for: or the Hawke which being cast off at a Partridge, taketh a stande to prune hir fethers, when she should take hir flight. For it séemeth you beare good will to the game you can-not play at, or will not, or dare not, wherein you imitate the Cat that leaueth the Mouse, to follow the milkpan: for I perceiue that you let the Hare goe by, to hunt the Badger.

Philautus astonied at this speach, knewe not whiche way to frame his aunswere, thinking nows that she per­ceiued his tale to be adressed to hir, though his loue wer fired on Camilla: But to ridde hir of suspition, though loth that Camilla shoulde conceiue any inckling, he play­ed fast and loose in this manner.

GEntlewoman you mistake me very much, for I haue béene better taught then fedde, and therefore I know howe to followe my game, if it be for my gaine: For were there two Hares to runne at, I would endeauour not to catch the first that I followed, but the last that I started: yet so as the first should not scape, nor the last be caught.

You speake contraries quoth Frauncis, and you will work wonders, but take héede your cunning in hunting, make you not to loose both.

Both saide Philautus why I séeke but for one, and yet [Page 103] of two quoth Frauncis, you cannot tell which to follow, one runneth so fast you will neuer catch hir, the other is so at the squat, you can neuer finde hir.

The Lady Flauia, whether desirous to sléepe, or loath these iestes should be too broad, as Moderater commaun­ding them both to silence, willyng Euphues as Umper in these matters, briefly to speake his minde. Camilla and Surius are yet talking, Frauncis and Philautus are not idle, yet all attentiue to heare Euphues, as wel for the ex­pectation they had of his-wit, as to knowe the drifte of their discourses, who thus beganne the conclusion of all their speaches.

IT was a Law among the Persians, that the Musiti­on should not iudge the Painter, nor any one med­dle in that handie craft, wherin he was not expert, which maketh me meruayle good Madame, that you should ap­point him to be an Umper in Loue, who neuer yet had skill in his lawes. For although I séemed to consent by my silence, before I knew the argument where-off you would dispute, yet hearing nothing but reasons for loue▪ I must either call backe my promise, or call in your dis­courses, and better it were in my opinion, not to haue your reasons concluded, then to haue them confuted. But sure I am that neither a good excuse wil serue, wher au­thoritie is rigorous, nor a bad one be heard, wher neces­sitie cōpelleth. But least I be longer in breaking a web, than the spider is in wearing it, your pardons obteined, if I offend in sharpnesse, and your patience graunted, if molest in length, I thus begin to conclude against you al, not as one singular in his owne conceipt, but to be try­ed by your gentle constructions.

SVrius beginneth with Loue, which procéedeth by beau­tie (vnder the which hée comprehendeth all other ver­tues) Lady Flauia moueth a question, whether the mée­ring [Page] of louers be tollerable. Philautus commeth in with two braunches in his hande, as though there were no more leaues of that trée, asking whether constancie or se­crecie be most to be required: great hold ther hath bene who should proue his loue best, when in my opinion ther is none good. But such is the vanitie of youth, that it thinketh nothing worthy either of commendation or cō ­ference but onely loue, whereoff they sow much, & reape lyttle, wherein they spend all, and gaine nothing, where­by they runue into daungers before they wist, and repent their desires before they would. I dde not discommendè honest affection, which is grounded vppon vertue as thè meane, but disordinate fancie, which is buylded vppon lust, as an extremitie: & lust I must tearme that, which is begun in an houre, and ended in a minute, the com­mon loue in this our age, where Ladies are courted for beautie, not for vertue, men loued for proportion in bo­dy, not perfection in minde.

It fareth with Louers, as with those that drincke of the riuer Iellus in Phrigia, where-off sipping moderately is a medicine, but swillyng with excesse it bréedeth mad­nesse.

Lycurgus set it downe for a law, that wher men wer commonly dronken, the Uines should be destroyed, and I am of that minde, that where youth are giuen to loue, the meanes should be remoued. For as the earth wherin the Mynes of siluer and golde are hidden, is profitable for no other thing but mettals, so the heart wherein loue is harboured, receiueth no other séede but affection. Lo­uers séeke not those things which are most profitable, but most pleasaunt, resemblyng those that make garlands, who choose the fairest flowers not the wholsomest, and being once entangled with desire, they alwayes haue the disease, not vnlyke vnto the Goate, who is neuer with­out an Ague, then béeing once in, they followe the note at the Nightingale, which is fayd, with continuall [...]rai­ning [Page 104] to sing, to perish in hir swéete layes, as they doe in their sugred lyues: where is it possible either to eate, or drinke or walke, but he shal heare some question of loue? insomuch that loue is become so common, that ther is no artificer of so base a craft, no clowne so simple, no beggar so poore, but either talketh of loue, or liueth in loue, when they neither know the meanes to come by it, nor the wis­dome to encrease it: And what can be the cause of these louing wormes, but onely Iolenesse?

But to set downe as a moderator the true perfection of loue? not like as an enimie to talk of y ^e infection (which is neither the part of my office, nor pleasaunt to your eares,) this is my iudgement.

True & vertuous loue is to be grounded vpon Time, Reason, Fauour, and Uertue. Time to make tryall, not at y ^e first glaunce so to settle his minde, as though he wer willyng to be caught, when he might escape, but so by ob­seruation and experience, to buyld and augment his de­sires, that he be not deceiued with beautie, but perswa­ded with constancie. Reason that all his doings and pro­céedings seeme not to flowe from a minde enflamed with lust, but a heart kindeled with loue. Fauour to delyght his eyes, which are the first messengers of affection. Uer­tue to allure the soule, for the which all things are to bée destred.

The arguments of faith in a man, are constancie, not be remoued, secrecie not to vtter, securitie not to mi­strust, credulytie to beléeue: in a woman patience to en­dure, iealousie to suspect, lyberalytie to bestow, feruencie, faithfulnesse, one of the which braunches if either y ^e man want or the woman, it may be a lyking betwéene them for the time, but no loue to continue for euer.

Touching Surius his question, whether loue come from the man or the woman, it is manifest that it beginneth in both, els can it not ende in both.

To the Lady Flauias demaund concerning company, [Page] it is requisite, they should méete, and though they be hin­dered by diuers meanes, yet is it impossible but that they will méete.

Philautus must thus thinke, that constancie without secrecie auayleth little, and secrecie with-out constancie profiteth lesse.

Thus haue I good Madame, according to my simple skill in loue, set downe my iudgement, which you may at your Ladishippes pleasure correct, for he that neuer tooke the oare in hande, must not thinke scorne to be taught.

Well quoth the Lady, you can say more if you lyst, but either you feare to offende our eares, or to bewray your owne follyes: one maye easelye perceiue, that you haue ben of late in the painters shop, by the colours that sticke in your coate, but at this time I wil vrge nothing, though I suspect some-what.

Surius gaue Euphues thankes, allowing his iudge­ment in the description of loue, especially in this, that he would haue a woman if she wer faithful, to be also iea­lous, which is as necessary to be required in them as cō ­stancie.

Camilla smilyng sayde, that Euphues was deceiued, for he would haue said, that men shold haue ben iealous, and yet that had ben but superfluous, for they are neuer other-wise.

Philautus thinking Camilla to vse that speach to gird him, for that all y ^e night he viewed hir with a suspitious eye, aunswered, that iealousie in a man was to be pardo­ned, bicause there is no difference in the looke of a louer, that can distinguish a iealous eye, from a louing.

Frauncis who thought hir parte not to be the leaste, sayd, that in all things Euphues spake Gospell, sauing in that he bound a woman to patience, which is to make them fooles.

Thus euery one gaue his verdite, & so with thankes to the lady Flauia, they all tooke their leaue for that night. [Page 105] Surius went to his lodging, Euphues and Philautus to theirs, Camilla accompanied with hir women & hir wai­ting maide, departed to hir home, whom I mean to bring to hir chamber, leauing all the rest to their rest.

Camilla no soner had entred in hir chamber, but she be­gan in straunge termes to vtter this straunge tale, hir doore being close shut, and hir chamber voyded.

AH Camilla, ah wretched wench Camilla, I perceiue now, that when the Hoppe groweth high it must haue a pole, when the Iuie spreadeth, it cleaueth to the flint, when the Nine riseth, it wreatheth about y ^e Elme, when virgins war in yeares, they follow that which belōgeth to their appetites, loue, loue? Yea loue Camilla, the force whereof thou knowest not, & yet must endure the furye. Where is that precious hearbe Panace, which cureth al diseases? Or that herbe Nepenthes that procureth al de­lights? No no Camilla: loue is not to be cured by herbes which commeth by fancy, neither can plaisters take away the greife, which is growen so great by perswasions. For as the stone Draconites can by no meanes be polished, vnlesse the Lapidarie burn it, so y ^e minde of Camilla can by no meanes be cured, except Surius ease it.

I see that loue is not vnlike vnto the stone Pantura, which draweth all other stones, be they neuer so heauie, hauing in it the thrée rootes which they attribute to Mu­sicke, Mirth, Melancholie, Madnesse.

I but Camilla dissemble thy loue, though it shorten thy life, for better it were to dye with griefe, then liue with shame. The spunge is ful of water, yet is it not séene, the herbe Adyaton though it be wette, looketh alwayes dry, & a wise louer be she neuer so much tormēted, behaueth hir self as though she were not touched. I but fire cannot be hidden in the flar without smoake, nor Muske in the bo­some with-out smell, nor loue in the breast without sus­pition: Why then confesse thy loue to Surius, Camilla, [Page] who is ready to aske before thou graunt. But it fareth in loue as it doth with the roote of the Keede, which being put vnto the ferne taketh away al his strength: and like­wise the roote of the ferne put to the Kéede, depriueth it of al his force: so the lookes of Surius hauing takē al frée­dome from the eyes of Camilla, it may be the glaunces of Camilla haue bereaued Surius of all libertie, which if it were so, how happy shouldest thou be, & that it is so, why shouldest not thou hope. I but Surius is noble, I but loue regardeth no byrth, I but his friends will not consent, I but loue knoweth no kindred, I but he is not willing to loue nor thou worthy to be wooed, I but loue maketh the proudest to stoupe, and to court the poorest.

Whylest she was thus debating, one of hir Maidens chaunced to knocke, which she hearing left of that, which all you Gentlewomen would gladly heare, for no doubt she determined to make a long sermon, had not she bene interrupted: But by y ^e preamble you may gesse to what purpose the drift tended▪ This I note, that they that are most wise, most vertuous, most beautiful, are not frée frō the impressions of Fancy: For who would haue thought that Camilla who séemed to disdaine loue, should so soone be entangled. But as the straightest wands are to be bēt when they be small, so y ^e precisest virgins are to bée won when they be young. But I wil leaue Camilla, w ^t whose loue I haue nothing to meddle, for y ^t it maketh nothing to my matter. And return we to Euphues, who must play the last part.

EVphues, bestowing his time in the Courte, began to marke diligently the men and their manners, not as one curious to misconster, but desirous to be instructed. Many dayes he vsed speach with y ^e Ladies, sundry times with the Gentlewomen, with all became so familyar, that he was of all earnestly beloued.

Philautus had taken such a smack in y ^e good entertain­ment of the Ladie Flauia, that he began to looke askewe [Page 106] vpon Camilla, dri [...]ing out the remembraunce of his olde loue, with the recording of the newe. Who nowe but his Uiolet, who but Mistresse Frauncis, whom if once euery day he had not seene, he would haue ben so solen, that no man should haue séene him.

Euphues who watched his friend, demaunded how his loue proceeded with Camilla, vnto whom Philautus gaue no answere but a smile, by y ^e which Euphues thought his affection but smal. At the last thinking it both contrary to his othe and his honestie to conceale any thing from Eu­phues, he confessed, that his minde was chaunged from Camilla to Fraūcis. Loue quoth Euphues wil neuer make thee mad, for it commeth by fits▪ not like a quotidian, but a tertian. In déede quoth Philautus, if euer I kill my self for loue, it shall be with a sigh, not with a sworde.

Thus they passed the time many dayes in England, Euphues commonly in the court to learne fashions, Phi­lautus euer in the countrey to loue Frauncis: so swéete a violet to his nose, that he could hardly suffer it to be an houre from his nose.

But now came the time that Euphues was to try Phi­lautus truth, for it happened that letters wer directed from Athens to London, concerning serious and waightie af­faires of his owne, which incited him to hasten his depar­ture, y ^e contentes of the which, when he had imparted to Philautus and requested his company, his friend was so fast tyed by the eyes, that he found thornes in his héele, which Euphues knew to be thoughts in his heart and by no meanes he could persuade him to go into Italy so swéet was the very smoke of England.

Euphues knowing the tyde would tarry for no man, & séeing his businesse to require such speede, being for his great preferment, determined sodeinly to depart, yet not without taking of his leaue curteously, & giuing thanks to al those which since his comming had vsed him friend lye: Whiche that it might bée done with one breath, [Page] he desired y ^e Merchaunt with whom al this white he so­iourned to inuite a great nūber to dinner, some of great calling, many of good credite, among the which Surius as chiefe, the Lady Flauia, Camilla and Mistresse Frauncis were not forgotten.

The time being come of méeting, he faluted them all in this manner.

I was neuer more desirous to come into England, thē I am loth to depart, such curtesie haue I founde, which I looked not for, and such qualities as I could not looke for, which I speak not to flatter any, whē in truth it is know­en to you all. But now the time is come that Euphues must pack from those, whom he best loueth, and go to the Seas, which he hardly brooketh. But I woulde Fortune had delt so fauourable with a poore Grecian, y ^t hee might haue either béene borne héere, or able to liue héere: which séeing the one is past and cannot be, the other vnlikely, and therfore not easie to be, I must endure the cruelty of the one, and with patience beare the necessitie of the o­ther.

Yet this I earnestly craue of you all, that you wil in steade of a recompence accept thankes, and of him that is able to giue nothing, take prayer for payment. What my good mind is to you all, my tongue cannot vtter, what my true meaning is, your harts cannot conceiue: yet as occasion shall serue, I will shew y ^t I haue not forgotten any, though I may not requite one. Philautus not wyser then I in this, though bolder, is determined to tarry be­hinde: for he saith, that he had as liefe be buried in Eng­land, as married in Italy▪ so holy doth he thinke y ^e ground héere, or so homely the women there, whom although I would gladly haue with me, yet séeing I cannot, I am most earnestly to request you all, not for my sake, who ought to desire nothing, nor for his sake who is able to de­serue little, but for the curtesies sake of England, that you vse him not so wel as you haue done, which would make [Page 107] him proude, but no worse then I wishe him, which will make him pure: for though I speake before his face, you shall finde true behinde his backe, that he is yet but wax, which must be wrought whilest the water is warme, and yron which being hot, is apt either to make a Keye or a locke.

It may be Ladies and Gentlewomen all, that though England be not for Euphues to dwell in, yet it is for Eu­phues to sende to.

When he had thus said, he could scarce speake for wée­ping, all the company wer sory to forgoe him, some profe­red him money, some lands, some houses, but he refused them all, telling them, that not the necessitie of lack cau­sed him to depart, but of importance.

This done, they sate downe all to dinner, but Euphues could not be merry, for that he should so soone depart the feast being ended, which was very sumptuous, as Mer­chaunts neuer spare for coste, when they haue full Cof­fers, they al hartely tooke their leaues of Euphues, Camil­la who liked very wel of his company, taking him by the hand, desired him that bring in Athens, he would not for­get his friends in England, and the rather for your sake quoth she, your friend shalbe better welcome, yea, and to me for his owne sake quoth Flauia, wherat Philautus re­ioyced, and Frauncis was not sory, who began a little to listen to the lure of loue.

Euphues hauing all things in a readinesse, went im­mediately toward Douer, whether Philautus also accom­panied him, yet not forgetting by the way to visit y ^e good olde father Fidus, whose curtesie they receiued at their comming. Fidus glad to sée them, made them great chéere according to his abilitie, which had it bin lesse, wold haue bene answerable to their desires. Much communication they had of the Court, but Euphues cryed quittance, for he said, things that are commonly known, it wer folly to repeat, and secrets, it wer against mine honestie to vtter. [Page] The next morning they went to Douer, wher Euphues being ready to take ship, he first tooke his farewel of Phi­lautus in these words.

PHilautus, the care that I haue had of thée, from time to time, hath ben tryed by the counsaile I haue alwaies giuen thée, which if thou haue forgottē, I meane no more to write in water, if thou remember, imprint it stil. But seeing my departure from thée is as it wer my death, for that I know not whether euer I shal sée thée, take this as my last testament of good will.

Be humble to thy superiors, gentle to thy equalls, to thy inferiors fauourable, enuie not thy betters, iustle not thy fellowes, oppresse not the poore.

The stipend that is allowed to maintein thée▪ vse suise­ly, be neither prodigall to spend all, nor couetous to kéepe all, cut thy coat according to thy cloath, & thinke it better to be accompted thriftie among the wise, then a good cō ­panion among the riotous.

For thy study or trade of life, vse thy booke in the mor­ning▪ thy bowe after dinner, or what other exercise shall please thée best, but alwayes haue an eye to the maine, whatsoeuer thou art chanced at y ^e buy. Let thy practise bée law, for the practise of Phisicke is too base for so fine a sto­mack as thine, & diuinitie too curious for so fickle a head as thou hast. Touching thy proceedings in loue, be constant to one, & trye but one, otherwise thou shalt bring thy cre­dite into question, and thy loue into derision.

Wean thy self from Camilla, deale wisely with Fraun­cis, for in England thou shalt finde those that wil decipher thy dealings be they neuer so polytique, be secret to thy self & trust none in matters of loue, as thou louest thy life.

Certifie me of thy procéedings by thy letters, & thinke that Euphues cannot forget Philautus, who is as déere to me as my selfe Commend me to all my friends: And so farewell good Philautus, and well shalt thou fare if thou [Page 108] followe the counsaile of Euphues.

PHilautus the water stāding in his eyes, not able to an­swere one word, vntil he had well wept, replied at the last as it wer in one word, saying, that his counsel shuld be engrauen in his heart, and hée woulde followe euery thing that was prescribed him, certifiing him of his successe as eyther occasion, or opportunitie shoulde serue.

But when friendes at departing woulde vtter most, then teares hinder moste, which brake off both his aun­swere, and stayde Euphues replye, so after manye milli­ons of embracings, at the last they departed, Philautus to London where I leaue him, Euphues to Athens, wher I meane to follow him, for he it is that I am to goe with, not Philautus.

THer was nothing that happened on the Seas worthy the writing, but within few dayes Euphues hauing a merry winde, arriued at Athens, wher after he had visi­ted his friends, & set an order in his affaires, hée began to addresse his letters to Liuia, touching the state of Eng­land in this manner.