THE SECOND PART OF THE HISTORIE, CALLED THE NATVRE OF A WOMAN: Contayning the end of the strife betwixt Perseus and Theseus. Compiled by C. M.

AT LONDON, Printed by the Widow Orwin for Clement Knight, and are to be sold at his shop at the little North-doore of S. Paules Church. 1596.

To the curteous and friendly Reader.

AS it fares in the estate of al things that are so chan­ged from their first, as if the Fathers of the first world liued to reuise this last, they should hardlie learne to know that wherein then they li­ued. So fares it in this vse of these triuiall toyes, which men were wont to cal by the names of some personages, whose liues or deaths were deciphered therein: but now framing their fancies to a new fa­shion, they will needes haue them named according to their natures, Sicut trahit sua quemque voluntas. And for my selfe was loath to breake square, I haue intitu­led this Historie, The nature of a VVoman: [Page] which though therein it answer not eue­rie mans priuat expectation in what they meane, yet could not I fit it better to the matter, containing indeede nothing but the enuious practises of two wicked wo­men: wherein if any take offence, let him for this time winke at my fault, as rather affecting to frame my selfe to the new fa­shion, that it should be accounted new stuffe, then following the old be esteemed as too stale.

Yours. C. M.

[Page]The second part of the Historie, called the nature of a VVoman: contay­ning the trauaile of Perseus, after he had fled from his Armie.

CHAP. 1.

AFter that the vnconstant state of neuer stayed fortune, had throwne downe these vnfortu­nate people from the height of those heauēly pleasures (which before they inioyed in prosperi­tie) downe euen to the lowest degrée, of blacke bottomles ad­uersitie. First, in rooting out the hope of their succéeding remembrance, likely to liue long after they should dye, in their happie children. Then, with y e eating canker of al vndoing enuie, seue­ring asunder by their warres their well grounded com­monwealth, which they so long had gouerned in peace. And lastly, laying vpon themselues, that which their dissention had ouerloaded their poore countrimē with­all, the hard sentence of exiles extremitie, more grie­uous then the coldest kind of bitter pinching pouertie; a more dismall diuorsiue sentence, then is the separation of a secure soule from an earthly blessed bodie: for that the one ends all aduersitie, the other begins their after [Page] miserie: the one changes the stinking state of this loth­some life into the neuer dying ioyes of heauenly felici­tie: but the other with a countermanding course puls backe the forwarde fortune of mens still mounting mindes, whom nature feedes with the hope of more and more happie blessings, into the despayring gulfe of all vndoing extremitie. This is the bridle where with foule fortune bindes in the strong headed state of many mightie Monarchies, when neither loue of vertue, nor hate of vice, feare of their friends ill, nor care of their owne weale, plagues at home, nor other punishment abroad, can pull backe to behold the wicked waies they haue ouer walked: then suffers she them to perseuer in their peeuish penance meriting purpose, till vnawares they bee assayled with the enuious incounters of vn­looked for exile, where they must weare out their age with sorrow, whose youth was wasted in all ioy, and learne to eate the bitter bread of banishment abroad, that could not satisfie themselues with the abundant pleasures of their countries content at home, and let their death conquering déedes dye in desolation, which should after death eternize their euer-liuing names, to their yet vnthought of generation, where no pen shall paint out their perfect picture, nor any tongue shall tell their true stories: but dye like the soule (wanting bo­dies) of brutish beasts; the processe of whose forespent life, no mans memories admits.

Such was the harmefull hap of these now hopeles Kings, who whilest with the sun-shine of their luckie loue, they blessed the furthest borders of this their then thrice renowned regiment, made fortune proude that it lay in her power to aduance them. But now they vn­aduisedly haue broake downe the force of their bro­therly affections, entring as nakedly into woe, as whilome when they were borne into the world, gins [Page] like a guideles shippe to turne with euery tossing sea, that were wont to stand steady like two sturdie rocks, till at length seuered asunder to goe seeke their seuerall punishment. Perseus that for his safegard had tane his way to the desert hils, that with their height compasses that countrie, wasting many a wearie day in the sad remembrance of his shipwrack, gins now by the sowre sawce of fortunes aduersitie, iudge with himselfe the pleasure of his former prosperitie: and like a man that setled with himselfe to trie the hardest brunts of this enuious ill lucke, now in stead of comfortable compa­nie, to whom he might complaine his case, expels sor­row with sorrowe, and quench the fire of his inwarde foggie sighes, by vttering to the eares of those vnac­quainted ecchoes, the harsh historie of his ill ending daies, delighting in stead of the replie of a fauourable friend, to heare the aggrauating eccho resounding from the craggie caues of those hollowe hils, the sorrowfull sound of woe ending words. Whereat the poore soule sate downe and sighed, till the ouer-charged burthen of his heart forcibly breaking out in abundance of chri­stall teares, did with sacietie of sorrowe make shew of ease to euill, which indéede had no ende: whose daylie plaints moued with their mo [...]es, as the Thracian with his musicke the hard and ruinous rockes, that vnder­propped the skie-brauing tops of those mightie moun­taines, to melt their marble sides into the shew of mel­ting teares, plaining of him that could not pitie him­selfe, and in stead of helping hands moues their senceles heads, as willing (though wanting power) to ease his agonie. Many dayes did he spend in this careful course, cutting out in capital letters vpō the barks of those ad­ioyning trées, the dismall discourse of this his pitifull plight, writing the records of his woes in the stony tables of hard marble rocks, that might incite the eyes [Page] of euery trauailer to teares, and pitie his woes, whose wracke they could not preuent. At last, when euen wearie with wéeping, though still full of teares, as is the nature of man gréedie of nouelties, gins with him­selfe deuise how in despite of that distresse, he might in­uent some new-found forme to lament, whose sorrows might satisfie the effect of his intēt, and change the out­warde semblance of his sorrowfull shewe: and sitting him sadly downe by a bubling spring, wherein he might see the reflexe of his sorrowfull face, he thus begins in a song, to braue the hard brunts of his haples heart, that still affoorded new fuell for his sorrowes fire, fresh springs of teares for his watrie eyes, and still replying words for his tragick tatling tongue.

Ye merrie Muses whose delightfull wits,
Busied in framing seuerall pleasing songs,
Come here and dwell by me where sorrow sits,
Studying what tunes to wofull straines belongs:
Ile fit what euer instrument they bring,
And by my voyce teach them how they shall sing.
The Bace a tragick touch of my heart strings:
The Tenor troubled sighs that sadly growes:
Next that, my words where liuely sorrow sings:
Then dolefull thoughts from whence despayre still goes:
And last in consort shall my eylids goe.
Whence teares destils like little worlds of woe.

The manner how he met with his sonne, who was supposed to be slaine, and what passed betwixt them two. CHAP. 2.

AS thus hée sate singing to himselfe, (for saue himselfe there was none to rue with remorse the pitifull tale he so dolefully told) suddenly he might espie out of the thickes of a neigh­bouring wood, that grew vp in the bosome of a fayre forrest, that was round about inuironed with a circle of mightie moun­taines, like the forme of an artificiall Theater) whence from euery seueral side the idle beholders sits, and sees the arte of imitating acters) a bigge boned man, whose sight was somewhat displeasing to him at the first: for that such is the composition of a melancholy complexi­on, as that fils the minde with a thousand seueral sorts of vaine suppositions: whereon the more he thinks, the more he findeth himselfe to fall short from his thought: and yet wanting indeede what he supposes to himselfe, and desires that he had, he contents himselfe to thinke that he were, that he vainly supposes he is: and so of­tentimes expelling the substance of sorrow with the bare imagination of better fortune, hee is as loath to breake his conceit, as a king to forgoe his Crowne. Yet at the length, seeing the man to frame his iourney to the place where himselfe then solitarily sate, begins stedfastly to looke vpon his limmes, to see how nature did differ in her selfe, in distinguishing the shapes of sa­uage Satyres, borne in the bare bosome of vnknowne [Page] plaines, and ciuill subiects framed in the pampering pa­laces of courtly Kings, which he found not so farre off, as he supposed he saw: for the néerer he drew, the fairer was his shew. Naked he was, saue that for himselfe he had framed an vnorderly coate of beasts skinnes, that couered those secrets which sauage creatures abhorres to sée: his haire for want of curious koming, hung lōg dishiuered about his head, naturally curled in more cunning knots, then imitating arts, armes other men withall, whose sable colour plaied with the glorious beames of the all guilding Sunne, as when he rises from his watrie couch he guilds the Easterne seas with de­ceiuing showes. In his face had nature cunningly cō ­bined two contrary shewes in one selfe same subiect loue and feare, smiling as smoothly on his friends, as a­morous Adonis on his vaine intising Venus, and frow­ning as fiercely on his enemies, as mightie Mars on his feare-falling foes. Beautie had builded vp her bower, and in pride plumed her feathers in his face: but that for want of a sunne-shadowing vaile, her varnish was somewhat decayed. Young and lustie was all his lims, strong in the outward shew of constitution, & in his e­uery part dwelt all parts of péereles perfection, which drew the aged King into a wonder, that those foule vn­peopled fields should affoord such faire framed formes. On the other side, the sauage man (who till y t time had not béen acquainted with such companie, nor before, that he could remember did euer sée any one like him­selfe) makes more haste vnto him then before it should seeme hee intended. This man was Adrianus, sonne to this forenamed Perseus, of whom wée told you in the o­ther part of this history, y t in his infancie he was by his wicked working Aunt sent foorth into those forrests, with an intent to be betrayed to death: who by y e vnna­tural loue of a Lionesse, had béen al this while brought [Page] vp in that desert, ignorant what hee was, because hee wanted those ordinary directions to tell him the truth: but that the instinct of nature had perswaded him there were other creatures, then those ordinary companie wherwith he daily dwelt, frō whom he must naturally descend: for that he seeing in the cōmon course of natu­rall increase euery beast bring foorth his like, it power­fully perswaded him there were comely creatures like himselfe, though it neuer till then was his lucke to see them: and glad in himselfe that hee had at last wonne what he long had wished, he made great haste to climbe vp the wearie way, cut off the side of a hill to get vp to the place where he might see him sit: to whom when at last he came, looking stedfastly in his face, pausing long before his spéech, as vnacquainted with cunning salu­tations, wherewith commonly men curiously vse to resalute one another, gins with wilde, and yet wittie words, rudely, and yet rarely in his vnacquainted kind demand what he was, that had hit vpon that plaine, in which place in twentie long yeares (for that space had he there spent) neuer saue himselfe any such creature came. To whom this cursed king, after he had through­ly viewed his perfect proportion, wondring that so beautifull a bodie, adorned with so pregnant a witte, should spring from those vnfurnished fields: for as the Diamond that obscured in an vneuen rocke, through the thicke slough of many slimie shadowes shewes as it is what it should be: Roses through transparant lawne sets out their swéete substance by their fayre shewes: piercing starres though obscured oft with the couert of some ouer-shadowing clowde, yet through those sha­dowes séemes no lesse themselues: so fared in the fore­lorne state of this yet wild man, in whose face was in­grauen the characters of farre fayrer fortune, then is found in such desolate dwellings, whose words though [Page] wanting that flattering forme wherewith other men vse to paint their speeches withall, yet with more dis­cretion did they procéede from this vntutered truant, then vsually wee see from many of our best brought vp schollers: for in him was the picture of a perfect man, his bodie not bolstered with the apish trims of concei­ted attire, his mind not nusled vp in the slauish shadow of vaine and fruitles folly, his tongue had not tasted of that intising streame that tips with seuerall tunes the state of sundrie tongues, turning them from the mould wherein nature first had made them to a new forme, wherein arte wil néeds fashion thē, as some for feare, & other for falshood to flatter: some for bribes with bitter words to betray, and other for folly to say and gainsay: some with fayre fawning words to vndermine their friends, and others with Synons subtiltie to outreach their foes: some with tatling tales to tell the surest se­crets of their firmest friends, and others with euill in­deuours to deuise slanderous speeches to spitefull ends. What should we say on these sorts that dims my mind, more with multitudes thē the seueral starres in a win­ters frostie night dazles the eyes with their numbers, passes the sands on the shore, the drops in y e sea, the se­ueral pebles in a shewer of haile, or y e infinite abundāce of seueral grains ripe Autumne reapes from the earths fayre face. To bee short, there was perfection of bodie without the pampering of pride, vertue of mind with­out the varietie of misleading manners, a true telling tongue that neuer tasted of a trifling tale: so héere was deciphered the difference betwixt the intent of nature in our first creation, and the euent of vse in our education: for that the one first formes all things to the best, the other in the end frames them commonly to the worst.

Well, after these two had with such gréetings salu­ted [Page] one another, as beseemed the melancholy dispositiō of the one, and the rude bringing vp of the other, they with friendly curtesie companie together, where the sa­nage man first begins earnestly to aske of the others estate: which the king fearfully fained to be but meane, and that hee hauing trod y e tract of an almost vnworne way, had by hard hap hit vpon that place: and being ignorant what way to escape, had there long lingered, as is the common vse of such distressed men, carefully considering with himself what way were best to work his owne release from that wast way wanting wilder­nesse. To whom the sauage man gan thus answer. I that know not from whence thou camest, am farre vn­able to direct thee whither thou shouldst backe againe goe, and saue myselfe liues there none here like to thée. Twentie fayre Summers flowers haue I séene fade in these fields, & sustained the stubborne brunts of as many winter blasts, séene the seuerall shapes of sun­drie beasts, and marked their manners in their seueral kinds, how the stately Lyon proudly commands the o­ther poore crouching creatures, and they in their kinde dutifully demeane themselues to his soueraigntie: mine eares haue heard the seuerall sounds of their sun­drie voyces, but could not distinguish them. Oft haue I spoke to the cruell beasts, thinking they could skill of my words: but they all rudely runnes away without answering againe: then fearing least that threatning wordes had with feare forced their flight, gan I with submisse intreaties to craue their companies: but that as did the first perished without hope, and left me still to mine ill happe, which oft vrged me to consider with my selfe what my selfe might bee, differing in making, disagréeing in manners, and failing of euery meanes that I made for my further instruction. No place is here that I haue not often sought, to see of whom I [Page] might issue: for that thus much hath nature taught me, that néedes I must come from a like kinde as doe all creatures els. Little I remember my selfe as I haue seene the young whelps of these careles creatures that possesse these plaines, and by the processe of time am by degrées growne to this state, wherein now thou seest I stand. And thus with a long discourse gins he debate vnto him, how from his infancie to that age, he had li­ued in those vnpeopled lawnes. At last, whē they with much interrogatory talke had passed away a long sum­mers day, and that now the shadow of the silent night gan sommon euery creature to their quiet rest, the sa­uage man loath to leaue his new found companion a­lone, to spend the solitarie night in that vncomfortable case, perswades him to accompany him downe into the bottome of a declining valley, y t a farre off hee shewed him: who for that he had marked the trueth-shewing tales of his former talke, and being comforted by his well-wishing words, not to feare the furious onsets of outragious beasts: for that such was his acquaintance amongst the vnreasonable rulers of that foretold for­rest, as that like the quiet citizen within the peacefull walles of his house, is in the stealing silence of the quiet night (by the watchfull meanes of a wel meriting Ma­gistrate) defended frō the forcible inuasions of ill mea­ning enemies: so he in his quiet Caue securely sleepes, little fearing the furie of these bolde beasts, in whose companie hee had alwaies conuersed. At last, wonne with the words of this faire foretelling friend, the king wearie with solitarie sitting there alone, and willing also to ease his head of those cruell cares that solitarie discontent had clogged him withall, he willingly con­descends to the others wish. These two trauailing thus together, at the last comes downe againe into the bottome of the plaine, where (for it was now almost [Page] night) were assembled diuers sortes of sundrie wilde beasts readie addressed to go seeke their pray: amongst whom when they came, as doth the sillie sheep to their acquainted shepheard, gently giue him way to trauaile where euer he will: so fares it with these two, that at their pleasure trace these deserts vp and down through many daungerous darke shades, that ouerspreads the hidden caues of sundrie subtill deuouring beasts. At last they came downe into a long valley, where out of the side of a rockie cliffe was naturally hewed a déep hollow Caue, into which was a conueiance of light through the clift of a rocke that ouer-roofed this house: where the wilde man not vsed with curious welcomes to entertaine any such guests, gins plainly performe the duetie of a well-meaning man, telling him that his good will wished him better then his power was able to performe.

Not long had these two sitten alone in this loath­some beastly den, ere there comes in a bloudie mouthed Lionesse, bearing in her tearing teeth the quarter of a new killed Kid. This was that Lionesse that in the former part of this historie wee tolde you of found this young prince, desolately forsaken in the desert, whom she in his infancie carefully brought vp, nursing him with that milke wherewith she should haue sustained her young ones, till the ripenes of yeares had streng­thened his stomacke, and made him now able with vse to feede on raw flesh with those rauenous beasts: for whose prouision this carefull nurse had prouided that filly supper: who comming to her den, and finding there vnaccustomed companie, gins sternly to stare in his face, as though she ment to prosecute her angrie coun­tenance, and terribly teare him in péeces with her vn­mercifull clawes: till when she saw the sauage man (that had for his better safegard brought him downe [Page] into the depth of that dungeon) friendly imbrace him in his armes, as though thereby he ment to rescue him frō all insuing harmes: then gins she turne her frowning countenance to fawning cōpassion, her terrible threats to a tractable truce, kindly with her dumbe demeanour (such as nature hath furnished these reasonles crea­tures withall) entertaines this trauailer, licking kind­ly his hands, which otherwise she could not kisse, softly touching him with her hard talens as loath to hurt him [...]ow, whom before she intended to harme. Thus with what curtesie their vnkindly cottage did affoord, doe they intertaine this their new com'd companion: who not vsed to eate such vndressed dishes, as their hungrie stomackes gently digested, was content that night to liue onely with looking on their kind of life, stil thinking to himself, what and how great was his own fall, that whilome being the commander of so many men, was now thus at the command of one silly beast. But for that necessities extremitie is comprehended within no bounds of ciuilitie, as also because he feared if he should againe fall into his olde frantick furie, it would alter the minds of these kindly vsing creatures to the execution of some other act: force of the one, and feare of the other, so brideled his boundles griefe, that perforce hee must needes refraine from sheading those mercie-mouing teares, which for all that he was scarse able to detaine. At last, after the many terrors of that tedious night, gins the golden Sunne, by the forerun­ners of his fierie carre, tell to the world the gladsome approach of his comming, when as Aurora gins with her searching shew enter through the close crannies of that clifted rocke: at whose approach wakens this sa­uage man from his vnnaturall nurse, and gréeting his guest with such salutations, as then for want of better serued their turnes, he leades him from thence downe [Page] lower to the side of a faire fountaine, that issued from the roote of a christall rocke, whose water cléerer then the christall from whence it came, reuiues the dead sen­ses of drooping beholders to looke vpon y e swift streame, that with his bubling melodie (farre passing the mur­muring musickes of Aganippus wels, that waters the Arcadian meades) were able to draw the floting Dol­phins from the watrie bosome of the sea, to stand ama­zed at their musick, as whilome they did at the well tu­ned strings of sweet Orions harpe, when from the cruel meanes of massacring marriners, they surely shielded him to the safe shore. There these two sits them down to wash their wearie bodies in that purifying spring, where the sauage man still vrging this vnfortunate King further to relate the manner of his life. At last, whether vrged by inward griefe, that most delighteth in despairing it selfe, or forced thereunto by the perswa­sions of this his sauage sonne, gins at last to declare the whole storie of his ill ending raigne: first recounting the surpassing pleasures that are compassed within the Crownes of Kings: then the honour they euery day receiue from many millions of seruiceable subiects. And when hee had largely related all these forepassed pleasures, then like AEneas, when he described to woe weeping Dido, the sunerall flames y t had fired fayre Ili­ons glorie, with sad faced sighs he thē settles him down to tell the tragick storie of his owne fall. Which when this wild man had attentiuely heard, considering with himselfe the great occasion, that should draw downe so many distilling teares from the eyes of so patient a creature, as he seemed to bee, gan thus answer his yet vnknowne father. If (quoth hee) with the vnstable stormes of winde, the strong Cedars that stout­ly stands on the tops of high mountaines firmly rooted in flintie rockes, be so suddenly throwne downe, what [Page] shall small shrubbes shroode themselues withall, who yet scarse recouered, but entring the superficies of the earth, is hardly able to abide the sweete breathed Sou­therne blast? If such bee the vnconstant state of your greatest Kings, what is the fickle fortune of your ser­uill subiects? Then see I my selfe here happie in de­spite of fate, hauing naught wherein to ioy, I shall lose nothing which should vrge me to weepe. Much talke passed betwixt them to this effect, when as the King willing to be againe released from that prison, wherein he was perforce detained, fell in perswading this wilde man to accompanie him into the peopled world, where he might liue with men, and leaue these wilde woods where was no company but beasts, telling him the pleasure was like to proceede from the one, and the la­sting paines he should stil be put into by the other. But so farre had the former tale of his rising and sudden fal­ling disswaded him from dwelling in that Icie stay, where he that is surest is vncertaine how long he shall stand, that he thought it better dwelling in a lowly val­ley, from whence lower he could not fall, then climbing to the height of a hill, where his fortune was euer in danger to fade. At last when the King perceiued all his labour lost, he desired his companion againe to conduct him to the place where before he found him solitarilie sitting by himselfe: which though he was loath to doe, fearing least by that meanes he should lose his compa­nie, yet notwithstanding inforced by the earnest intrea­tie of this his new found friend, he condescended to his request. And they two together trauailed so long that at length they came downe into another dale on the o­ther side of that hill where the morning before they met, through which lay many faire pleasant paths that directed the way to euery adioyning place, where the sauage man loath to stray too farre, least he should not [Page] happily hit backe againe on his owne way, leaues his friend to his better fortune, where for a while we must also leaue them both, Perseus in trauailing into the world to seeke some more faithfull friends, and Adria­nus returned backe againe into the forrest, to his accu­stomed companie.

How Theseus in his flight was intercep­ted by the theeues that first saued his daughter, and what followed of that. CHAP. 3.

IN this time Thesers, that was the other brother, who after the ouerthrowe of his armie, had taken his way towards those plaine forrests y t borders vpon the banks of the sea, was in his trauaile circumuented by ma­ny outlawes, that houering vpon the high wayes accusto­mably vsed to spoyle poore passengers, who seazing vpon that bootles pray, puls him perforce home to their caue, which was in that place where before wee tolde you his daughter was surprised by those theeues, when her Aunts seruant intended to drowne her in that sea that now seuers the Christian coast from the bounds of ouer burned Barbarie. Where when he came, he begine cunningly to dissemble his estate, least by that meanes he might bee preuented of his further purpose, faining himselfe to bee a poore countrie peasant that had thither wandred from his way, alleaging simplici­tie for his excuse. And for that there remained now a­bout [Page] him no tokens that might tell from whence hée came: for to preuent that purpose, he had exchanged all his kingly robes with a base slaue, that in his flight he met by the way: whereby being beleeued by them to be what he barely affirmed himselfe, and destitute of such purchase as they promised themselues he had béen pos­sessed of, seeing him a goodly man like to stand them instead, they begin to perswade him to follow that lewd life themselues did there professe, which was the rob­bing and dispoyling of poore people, the neighbouring inhabitants of that cursed countrie. Whereto he for feare condescended, least if he should haue denied, their crueltie might haue cut away the hope of his after har­uest, which for all this trouble hee hoped in the ende to atchieue. And so walking homewards, in their way they began to instruct him in their théeuish occupatiō, he should mercilesly spoyle the poore, robbe the rich, without remorce bereaue them of their liues, that stub­bornly stand out against their indeuours. Spending y e time in these villanous practises, at length they drew néere home, where readie to intertaine them was the Captaine of these cōfederates walking with his wife, a goodly woman, richly attired with the pretious spoyles that these vnthriftie villaines had forcibly taken away from many true men in their trauaile. This woman was that Liuia that wee told you before was taken a­way from her friends, with an intēt to haue bin slaine: but rescued by those Outlawes, had a long time made her abode amongst them, and as growing in yeares, so in beautie & commendable qualities, was at the length beloued of him that was chiefe Captaine of that cru­ell companie, and at last were married together, of whom he begot a fayre daughter, whose name was La­rina, which they tenderly brought vp, thinking that one day fortune would so fauourably smile vpon them, [Page] as to grace their gouernment, as that they should by some meanes reduce it from barbarous outlawed cruel­tie, to authentick well gouerned ciuilitie. To these two their factors present this spoyle, which though he were poore, yet did hope perswade them that he would sup­plie their necessitie in another matter, though he decei­ued their expectations in the present possession of such rich prize, as commonly they were accustomed to finde of such as they suspected him to be. To bee short, they intertained him well, because they would incourage him to serue them with the like: where for a while he changed his sometimes happie estate, to the inforciue furie of their more then brutish behauiour, where with they accustomed to handle all that came in their holde. At length, after he had long time inured himselfe to this kind of companie, walking one day vnder the solitarie shadowe of a sheltring rocke, vpon whose top those people for their pleasure had framed the forme of a gor­geous garden, and with great labour (for what wil not paines performe) planted diuers springs of seueral trées, that with their continuall comforting, with supplie of such things as added more moysture to their rootes, then the barren rocke, were growne vp very high, vn­der whose shadow one d [...]y to shelter her selfe from the heate of the sunne, was solitarily set. This Lady where tuning the strings of a sweete sounding Lute, she to their trembling straine warbles foorth this dittie.

If euery creature make such mirth
To see his kindred in their kind,
How then may I bewayle my birth,
Which wants that meanes to cheere my mind?
No tongue can tell where I was bred,
Nor any happie man relate
The place from whence I first was led,
To weare here in this wofull state.

[Page]Unto whom he that all this while had heard her sad song, begins thus to answer her in another sort.

And I must sing another note,
Whom fortune hath cast downe
From fames faire top, where I did flote,
In sorrowes lap to drowne.

Whence she looking downe to sée what eccho should readily in her owne vaine answere her againe, espies this new intertained seruant of theirs sitting so solita­rily vnder the side of a rocke, to whom she cals to come vp vnto her into the garden, that she might further con­ferre with him about his estate, which yet he made so strange. To whom when he came, he begins rufully to lament his forelorne estate, telling her all the storie of their vnbrotherlike strife, euen vntil that present place wherein they were: whose many teares moued such mercie in the eare of this passionate Ladie, as the pro­mising her ayde to release him from that thraldome, he boldly goes forward to disclose the drift of his deuise, telling her that the scope of his intent was either to de­part farre from the remembrance of that countrie, or els to stirre vp some neighbouring friends of his that dwelt in an adioyning Iland to those confines, to rise with him in armes for the recouerie of his kingdome: to the furtherance whereof, would she but worke some meanes for his release, if fortune & his forward starres did but further his friends, he would so remunerat that good turne, as she should blesse the time wherein she first intended such an enterprise. Which when he had vehemently vowed, she to auoyd suspition sends him a­way: and afterwards gathering from her husband, and the rest of their seruants, which way they meant the next daye to addresse themselues, and so plotting her [Page] purpose, shift his escape by a contrarie way, that night furnishes him with all such necessaries, as her poore prouision could affoord, and so secretly sends him away: where we must a while leaue him in his trauaile to try his friends, and she with her husband in his homely rockie house, and come once more to those wicked wo­men, by whose meanes was growne all their miserie.

How the two Queenes met both toge­ther in the Lyons denne where Adrianus was brought vp, and how by his meanes they were rescued. CHAP. 4.

THey by the censure of the iust iudging senate, that had secret­ly searched almost the depth of their deuise, and by such circum­stances, as the processe of that little proofe they had did affoord them, sound the greatest fault of that furie in these worse then wicked women, had for euer forbidden them further abode within the bounds of that kingdome, vntill they could by their accord ioyne those againe that their discorde had disseuered, and bee them­selues the meanes of their peace, that of themselues had bred their warres: who taking them to this seuerall search, gins now frame themselues to bee o­bedient to all that before were second to none, clad in course sackcloath that were not contented with rich silkes, spending the darke nights vnder the dolefull shades of Cipresse bowes, that had scorned the pleasure [Page] of princely beds; in stead of those choise dainties where­on before they fed, now content with y e meanest meate that the earth did affoord. Doriabella that was wife vnto Perseus the eldest brother, she wandring through the vnknowne wayes of a wide forrest, was there sud­denly incountred in y e same place, where by her meanes her sonne Adrianus sho ulde haue béene murthered by the like lucke with a fierce Lionesse, of whom she being afrayd, made meanes to escape away: but all in vaine, for the beast seazing vpon her bodie, countermands her course, and perforce carries her downe to the same den where she fostered her child: for this was the same Lio­nesse that saued Adrianus from the crueltie of that cut­throte caitiffe that had cunningly contriued his ende: where, for that the beast had some extraordinary intent, to prouide for her fostered childe some companie of his owne kind for him to consort withall, or that the Gods in their great vnsearchable wisedome had lengthened out her life to a worse intended end. This brute beast without offering her violent iniurie, which is a thing not commonly found in their kind, sets her safely down in her caue, where she quietly kept her till such time as her companion came in, to whom with her fayre won­ted fawning she presents her prize. The woman bet­ter imboldened at the shewe of a man, then she was of the still fearfull sight of the beast, begins somewhat to recouer her lost colour, and with fearefull cryes gins suddenly implore his ayde against the enuie of that her naturall enemie. At whose sight the man somewhat ioyfull to see the shape of another, in whom was repre­sented the shew of himselfe, gins with his ordinarie in­tertainment to welcome her to that homely house, tel­ling her that such was the extraordinary nature of that beast, that she would neuer harme any creature: and then falling into further talke, he begins to enquire of [Page] her what drowe her downe into those melancholy meades, where saue himselfe seldome or neuer comes any such creatures. To whom she begins to relate a contrary course of her foreled life, fearing least the ve­ry sound of her voyce in reiterating the remembrance of her death-meriting deedes, would not onely incurre his anger, but stirre vp that senceles beast to wreake their woes, whom she so vnworthily had wronged, and therfore tels him that she was a woe wearied woman, that in her melancholy moodes bad left the poore place where shee dwelt, to soiourne in some vncoth vnfre­quented shade, where no delightfull day might solicite to her sad memorie, the loue of her forepassed life no chéerefull sunne might cherish her cold chilled limmes, nor pleasant newes of neuer dying ioy might bring her backe againe to her former felicitie. At which tale the wild man, though himselfe had neuer felt the force of powerfull passions, that winds mens bodies like a workmanship in waxe: yet pitying that in her he ne­uer tasted in himselfe, tels what trueth tolde him, that hard was her hap to change her chéerefull consorting companie of friends, to desolations sad discomforture amongst her foes, to come from whence she was first brought vp, to that place where she was finally cast downe, except (quoth he) you can frame your fancie to vndergoe the beastly behauiour of these vnciuill crea­tures, amongst whom I now liue, and with whom I meane to dye: for such a rumour heare I to runne of the inconstant course of mightiest monarchies, which also in some I haue seene true, that from the highest braunch they are oft bowed downe euen to the lowest barke of the bulke, that I finde more swéete content in this vnchangeable stay, then they in their stedfastest state. In which talke they beguiled the time, till night ouertaking them both, admits no more interpassage of [Page] friendly spéech, where he to his ordinarie rest, and she to her accustomed complaints, betakes themselues, shée telling in secret to her sad heart the heauy burthen of her groaning griefes, whose heauy soule melted with the inforciue furie of her still crying sorrow, destils in amber teares: sometimes she thinkes of her husband, and then hope helpes her vp with this thought, that though long, yet they shall againe méete at last. Then remembers she the children, as well that of her owne as the other, that by her meanes was massacred, sup­posing heauens had heaped iust vengeance vpon her for her former sinnes. And lastly, when shée thought vpon her selfe, then comes dead death with his cra­sie coloured countenance, and inforces her not to blush for shame, as doe the outward shewes of offen­ders, but looke pale for pitie as the vse of such guiltie guides, that not onely leades themselues into that re­cureles gulfe of neuer recouering griefe, but also intises other into a world of woes, from whence there is no retiring. Thus did she preuent that which euer was as­saying to preuent her, the all stilling state of secure sléepe, where her thought was still stumbling of some sinne, whose iust iudgement was likely to insue vpon her after life, till in the secret of the silent night there suddenly sounded ouer their heauie heads y e noyse of a fearefull pursute, as though some angrie beast had insolently risen vpon another simpler sort, where sud­denly into the Caue where they then lay, descends downe the likenes of a liuely creature, not such as was wont to accompanie them in their Caues, but others that elsewhere, with vntimely disturbance waken the sleeping wits of watchfull men, at which they were all affraid. The Lionesse for that she these many daies had neuer béen in any such sort disturbed; the man for that since his first comming thither, hee neuer viewed any [Page] such thing; the woman for that she dreamed of some ex­traordinarie euent that should insue of that sudden vp­rore: but as euery wonder becomes at last more ordi­narie then it shewes at the first, so in the end by the sha­dow searching Moone, they might more easily espie that which had driuen them all into this extraordinarie doubt, the substance of the other sister, whose fault was equal with the first, and so was her repentance as readie as any of the rest. But how sudden sorrow ouer­tooke her heauie heart, in finding that in the ende from which she fled in the beginning, a Lyon from whose clawes she thought she had cléered her selfe. But as it fares in the euer swelling surges of the senceles seas, that the weary water working men fall from the grée­die gripe of Sillaes shiuering shores, into the couert of Charibdes cruel course: so fares it with her that flying from the bare shew of death, was fallen into darknes it selfe. Where when she saw so many contraries coupled in one subiect, as crueltie with curtesie, fell inforciue furie with friendly for bearing fellowship, reasonable caitiues there subiect to vnreasonable creatures, soule possessing bodies with sauage professing beasts. But at lēgth she satisfied with the shew of them, and they glut­ted with gazing on her, the sauage man as curteously begins to welcome her, as he gaue gentle gréetings to the other, and with such wordes as his yet vnkindly curtesie did affoord, intertaines her. And for that the trouble some time of the night did not afford such shew of further fauour, as by his promise he purposed to per­forme in the day: she by the other softly sits downe her selfe, betwixt whom you must now imagine such dumb demeanes of friendship, for feare to procéed, as whilest they were, well could not come from curteous loue. There doe these two with outwarde shewes display ones plaints to the others passions. Many dumbe [Page] demeanes passed betwixt these two, till after long lin­gering shewes, that with their dissembling shadowes, had lulled againe into a slumber these two careles crea­tures, whose nature suspecting nothing els but naked trueth, without all further inquisition fals againe fast asléepe: which when these two wofull women had wa­rilie weyed, they taking this aduantage of time, gins quickly one to murmur to another the euents of their seuerall iournies. And here must I now leaue further to enuey against their enmitie, and talke now of their solemne contrition, wherein we must not wey the ru­ine of their childrens rape, but the remorce of their sins remembrance: faults that are péeuishly persecuted, de­serues the pitie of no one: but crimes wilfully commit­ted, with the remedie of repentance are mightlly amen­ded. Which in these two proued most true: for there each other confessing to themselues in these perils the daungers they did one to another in their peace, with womanish woe that ofter in teares more bewayles their vnfortunate ends, then they foresec their two for­ward beginnings, and then with many teares tormēts themselues too much, which they might well haue pre­uented with a little, cursing too late that which is come at last vpon those crimes they committed at the first. And here let me shew their vnconstant state, not stan­ding alwaies in a stay, but wauering like the winde, sometimes prosecuting with loathed disdaine, them which once they did follow with louing desire: then changing their copie as cowards do their countenance, that wauer with the wind of euery buzzards blast, they againe begin to desire what before so déepely detested: sometimes with hastie men too soone bréeding their own sorrowe, and then with sloathfull siuggards deferring too long to salue their owne sores, oftentimes weauing their owne woe, when they suppose they worke ano­thers [Page] wracke. For so vnwarie are their wits, that they neuer think of that should follow, from the force of that which goes before: but like the vnfortunate Larke that drawne downe with the dazeling glide of a decei­uing glasse, delighting so long in his game till he be cat­ched in the gin: so fares it with these fond fooles, that God knowes are too gréedie of some siluer deceiuing shewes, and yet busie enough to bite off others gol­den baites. Yet not so prouident as the poore Spar­rowe, that hauing escaped the foulers fetter, with her chéerefull chirping giues notice to the rest of her neigh­bours: but where themselues haue seene many fall, they yet desperatly follow.

Here might I extend this Satyricall vaine, but that I wil not be accounted as one that loathes what other mē loues: & therfore wish they could amend what euen themselues sees plainly amisse, and in themselues learn to feare that, which by example of their owne sexe they cannot beware. And thus pitying them, whose hurt rests onely in themselues to helpe, I will referre you to wonder at these two wicked women, whose déedes had so far diuided thē, till that vnlooked for luck had met them together againe in that desolate place, whom de­seruing diuorce had parted in their peopled palace: there gin they one to another relate the tragicke storie of their forepassed purposes in their diuers imaginati­ons of each others iniurie, till at last according in one consent they mutually moue what they had malitious­ly ment, till that lamenting each to other their lewd liues, they with instant iutreaties solicites the neuer­sayling forces of all helping heauens, that with fauour they would looke vpon their faults that had indéede de­serued their iust frownes. For such must I néedes say is the composition of those, though often careles, yet more vsuall comfortable creatures, that if for want o [...] [Page] well guiding gouernment they sometimes fade, yet sel­dome doe they for euer fall. For such is their flexible na­ture, as like the Philosophers table they willingly im­pose vpon themselues euery seuerall impression, but commonly their nature nourishes but one: as when the profit prouing merchant viewes the seuerall sorts of sundrie commodities, though there be many that hée well could like of, yet is there but some fewe that espe­cially he can loue: so is it in the seldome securitie of this sexe, that busying themselues with many, they binde themselues but to a few. Nay, shall I compare them to a fitter forme of reason resembling creatures, as when the Lapwing houering farre from her nest, séemes to descry the daunger of her young néere hand, which hée that suffers his patiens to search shall finde farre off: so haue I heard it proued true of them, whose policie in this I must néedes approue, if well performed to bée perfect: for that they colour thereby the cunning of their own skill, and withdraw the otherwise beholders affections farre off, not to looke to that practise they in such secret performe. But now leaue we thē in this in­forciue peace, y end of their selfe-wrought warre, lear­ning to liue like the Lion in feare, that lightly before regarded the libertie of loue, and looke backe againe to our first painfull pilgrime.

How Perseus came to the Court of Ferdi­nand the French King, and of him got ayde for the recouerie of his countrie. CHAP. 5.

PErseus seeking some refuge after he had forsaken the companie of his vnsuspected sonne, at last directs his [Page] course to clime the mightie Alpes, and goe renew his acquaintance now in France in his age that he had got there in his youth, where his olde father had kept him long at schoole to learne there the rudiments of arte, whereof their owne countrie was not then so well sto­red: where comming to the Kings court, was at the first lightly receiued of them, whom sometimes hée had graced with his companie: imitating the example of vnmerciful masters, that when a sillie seruant, where­in was sometimes their treasure, fals by mishap to any sudden mischance, thē presently accounts he not of him so w [...]ll as of a slaue, whō he was wont to vse familiar­ly as his friend. Yet at the last vncouering the cause of his care, and with teares telling them the truth of two true stories, Ferdinand (for so was then that French kings name) pitying the ill happe of his age, of whom there was such great hope in his youth, answers him againe in teares, the ensignes of griefe, and comforting on him vp with the presages of more fauourable for­tune, gins bid him but deuise with himselfe how hée might any wise doe him good, and he would willingly not onely imploy his countrie and kingdome, but haz­zard his owne health to doe it, though now death had displayed his colours on his hoarie head, and cur­rishly counterchecks his courage. Which reply so re­lieued the dying countenance of this other worse then captiue king, as that calling backe his de [...]aying sences, whose vigores were now all mustering about the la­bouring heart, euery one expecting a sundrie answere for their seuerall release, makes him begin againe to looke for longer life, who before desired nothing more then a spéedie death. And first with humble thankes rendring to the king he begins to explaine vnto him his intended purpose, which was, that if hee could by his friendly fauour get but againe together a moytie of [Page] those men which before he had missed, and by his owne negligence vndone, his intent was againe to inuade his countrie, and set himselfe once more in his king­dome. To whom the old king offered all spéedie ayde he was able to performe, whom we leaue a while muste­ring their souldiers to send ouer the Alps into Italie, and now talke of Theseus.

How Theseus perswading the King of Barbary to the spoyle of his countrie, obtai­ned the ayde of the Moores. CHAP. 6.

THeseus, who after by the means of his vnknowne daughter had fréed himselfe from that danger, shipping himselfe in a little gal­lie that was then going o­uer into Africa, hee committeth himselfe to y mercie of the seas, from whom the well wishing windes had soone set him free. Where when he came, he politikely begins to consort himselfe with a noble man, whom the blacke king of that countrie had before (whilest these two brethren did together louingly sway the Scepter of their quiet kingdome) imployed vpon ambassage vnto them, and vnto him delates his drift, telling how he by the means of mutinous subiects, was wrested out of his countrie and kingdome, & driuen to seeke reliefe in that strange soyle, protesting that if he could by any meanes come by sufficient supply of men and munition, that would but in reuenge of these iniuries ouerrun his countries, [Page] he not looking againe to possesse his Crowne, would yéeld vp both the spoyle of his countrie and the possessiō of his kingdome to the conquerour. To which pleasing tale the Moore giuing some eare, for that in them was rooted an old grudge against the Italians, spurs speedi­ly to the King to certifie him of this offered occasion of rigorous reuenge vpon their old enemies. To whom he listening, desirous both to scourge that countrie that had oft scourged him, and also to inlarge the bounds of his kingdome beyond the border of the binding sea that separates those seuerall parts of the world, and kéepes the inhabitants within the compasse of their owne countrie, offers hastie helpe to the performance of the others request, and in the meane time whilest all these things were making readie, they contrary to their for­mer sort of ciuilitie, gētly entertaine him, vnder whose colour they were in such hope of successe in those wish­ed warres. Now begins the coale black curres reioyce within themselues in very conceit of conquest, diuiding the spoyles before they were about to begin the battell, telling of their triumphs before they well knew what it was they should winne: here are whole Dukedomes cast away at dice vpon a drummes head, before they al­most dreamed what it was that should be had: where wee will a while leaue them two prouiding their pre­tended forces for Italy, and come againe to the Out­lawes, where wee left Liuias daughter coupled in mar­riage with their chiefe Captaine.

How the Outlawes seeking their pray, by chance met with Adrianus the wild man, and how they perswaded him to leaue that place, and what followed therof. CHAP. 7.

THey after their custome, diui­ding themselues into diuers cō ­panies, searches al y e conueying wayes of their countrie for to finde some fit pray, where some of them trauailing further thē their accustomed compasse, be­cause fortune had not affoorded them such fauour as at the first to spéede themselues, they were therefore inforced to followe the trace of some way, in which they hoped at last (though it were too long) to méete with some or o­ther bootie that would bountiously guerdon their tra­uaile. So long they traced to and fro that they got vp to the top of a high hill, whence they might see downe belowe in the dale a man alone, whose shew was not such as they wished, trimmed vp in gorgeous golden ap­parell, but couered with a beasts skinne on his backe, bearing a knottie club, such weapons as nature there had framed for him, and walking vp and downe in these deserts, made the sillie beasts with obeisance crouch to his countenance, as did Alcides terrifie the furies in the bosome of burning hell. This was Adrianus that was there alone walking the wide circute of those melan­cholie meades, to whom they posting apace, thinking by surprizing him, though of himselfe they should reape [Page] small commoditie, yet by his meanes they might bee di­rected to some more profitable place. This sauage man looking back, and séeing so many suddenly descend from the top of y e hil, whose vnorderly approach as he suppo­sed, pretended little good: he naturally foreséeing what inconueniences might followe, addressing himselfe to his defence with his naturall wrought weapon, which was a young oken plant, and perceiuing them especial­ly to shape their course to him, stoutly stands still to see some end of their actions. To whom when they came néere, his fierce countenance halfe afrighted them, that standing all still like the starre gazers at the transfor­ming head of Gorgon, durst not once so much as en­quire what he was, till one hairebraine companion ta­king the aduantage of his weapon, that was not vsed to the cunning sleights of fence, got quickly within him, and shifting himselfe from the weightie fall of his club, supposed with some nimble sleight to ouercome him: which when the sauage man perceiued, getting hold of him with one of his hands, before the other had performed his purpose, giues him such gripe as squisies perforce the pithie marrow from most of his strength bearing bones, and so leaues him suddenly slaine, that intended such vnacquainted iniurie to him. Which whē the rest of his fellowes saw, being about fortie in num­ber, though halfe afrayd all of them to set vpon that sil­lie one, yet loath to leaue their fellowes ruine vnreuen­ged, they begin altogether to assault him, who with the weight of his weapon delt such right downe blowes a­mongst them, as whosoeuer it lighted on it quite killed, or at the least lamed them. Long continued their com­bat, for that they sustained the foile, and therefore were loath for their credits to leaue the field: yet at y e length being almost halfe of them spoyled, or quite spilled, the rest dispayring to runne away, least he should ouertake [Page] their flight, in all humilitie suddenly throwes downe themselues at his feete, intreating fauour for their rash offence, and that their fellowes death might satisfie his desire: on whom his gentle nature could not inflict fur­ther furie, but with a good will accepts their homage as they offer their humilitie. And then falling into fur­ther conference, begins discourse vnto him what they were, and to what ende they were come thither, whom he handles with all humilitie, laying open vnto them his owne estate, his manner of life in those peopleles places, and what euer had happened vnto him since his first remembrance, carrying them home to his Caue, and there letting them see the manner of his life, where they found sorrowfully sitting these two sad sisters, whose fore ill spent liues had brought vpon them this losse, to whom he also begins to relate the strange man­ner of their arriual. At last, after they had walked with him round about the borders of his bounds, they begin to disswade him from that beastly place of abode to goe abroad into the world, and there learne to liue like a man, shewing what daunger was in the one, and what delight in the other, perswading him that by y e meanes time would try the trueth of this his fedious search, in be wraying the meanes by which he was brought thi­ther. Unto whom a great while he would giue no eare, because it should seeme that contented estate wherein he then stoode so fitted his humour, as that he little re­garded all the gay stories they could tell him of glorie or dignity, wealth, or whatsoeuer good thing this world doth giue. Yet at the last with their incessant perswa­sions, he determined a while to goe trie the trueth of their storie: but with this promise, that as they profe­red honestly to vse himselfe, so should they also kindly comfort those two distressed women, that had vnhap­pily straied from their homes, and rely them only vpon [Page] his reliefe. Which they with many protestations so­lemnely promised to doe. And so in the end taking away with him those two, by whose meanes he was made the subiect of that nuschāce, departed altogether from that place, and iournied towards their homes againe. In which way nothing was done, saue that they still were telling one to another the storie of their foreled liues: and with that tattle beguiling the time, till they came to the place where was their abode, and there presen­ting to their Captaine their pray, they begin to relate what happened them in their iourney. Thus with ma­ny salutations was he intertained, and often imployed in their affayres, wherein he so prosperously procéeded, as that he was not onely beloued of all the companie, but déerely estéemed of their chief Captaine, and so still imployed abroad. In the meane time were the poore Quéenes, whom fortune had thus baned to and fro, busied at home: for by this time were these Outlawes waxen excéeding rich, and their Captaine intirely af­fecting Liuia his wife, daughter to one of these vn­knowne Quéenes, had carefully prouided her of the curiousest conceits that all that countrie did affoord: where, for that these two women that had sometimes béen Princes ouer many people, could well skill of that kind of pāpering pride which women are wonted to vse, grew in such great request with their Ladie, that a­boue all her attendants they especially were honoured. Here hence grew they again into a new mutinie which of them should best deserue to bee desired, one priuilie seeking to spoile what another had curiously conceited, the other practizing means to hinder her sisters work, that it might proue of little worth. Long in this sort gan they disagrée, till at last with their enuious emu­lation they stirred vp all the assemblie to such strife, as had not the care of the charie Captaine in time refor­med, [Page] it had brought selfe-working harme vpon their owne heads. Such was the grounded malice of these two cruell creatures, as that though feare in extremi­tie made them agrée as friends, yet in the least shew of péeping prosperitie they begin again the fierce assaults of deadly foes. Who for the better agréement of their whole house, they were glad to separate in twaine, to sée if that bred friendship being asunder, that brought out nothing but hatred betwixt them whilest they were together.

How both the Kings brought their bor­rowed armies both together into the countrie, and how the citizens leuied armes against them, and what was the end of that warre. CHAP. 8.

IN the meane time whilest these things had thus happened, the two disseuered Kings (of whō before wee tolde you) had brought in both their seuerall supplies of men and munition for the conquering of their lost kingdomes, and pitching their tents vpon the territories of that carefull kingdome, begins with intermissiue mes­sages to sommon the inhabitants, to render ouer againe that rule which so long they had retained. Where in the Senat house at one time méetes both these messen­gers, crauing the kingdome for their seuerall ma­sters: yet till that time those cursed Kings had not heard what was become one of another. To whom [Page] the Senatours wisely with curteous countenances gaue this answer: That for so much as they were there met to challenge the kingdome seuerally to themselues which should bee ioyntly inioyed of them both, pleased but their Lordships to giue them leisure for these fewe dayes to consider of this case, and then they would an­swere them both to their owne contents. With which answere the messengers departed back againe to their seuerall masters. After whose absence, these carefull pillers of that crafte Common-wealth, begins to con­sider with themselues what were best to doe in these daungerous dayes. At length they thought good themselues, that to auoyde the inconueniences which was likely to light vpon them by this purpose, it were best for them, as they did at the first, to gather forces together: for by other meanes they would not bée ap­peased, and by that deuise assay to driue them backe a­gaine. Which the better to effect (for that countrie was scarse able of it selfe to affoord sufficient force for that fight) they presently dispatch assurance of pardon, and promise of rich rewarde and great dignities to the Captaines of all those Outlawes, that were incamped in seuerall places of that countrie, if but by such a day they would bring in their seuerall powers, to the ende they might augment their armie against these home-borne enemies. Which proclamations was so effectu­ally performed, as that within a short time there were gathered together an infinit number of such people as liued in the mountains, and other remote places of that countrie, vpon the spoyle of other people: amongst whom was the band of Outlawes, wherein Adrianus was intertained: who being gathered altogether, be­gan to addresse themselues to the seuerall functions in furnishing themselues to the field. In the meane time came the day wherin they were to giue answer to their [Page] seuerall demaunds. At what time comes back both the Harolds to knowe their determinations. To whom the Senatours foreappoynted for that purpose, begins thus mildly to resolue them in their requests. Since (quoth he) the state of these times wherein wee now liue, requireth such suretie of safegard, as may with­stand the enuious force of any froward fortune, wée to preuent the purpose your ill meaning masters intende, which is no lesse then the ruine and decay of our whole Common-wealth; as strongly as wee may haue here furnished our selues with such forces, as this time and place could affoord. But for that once (which we must euer confesse) they were our happie Kings, though now they be vnhappie people, and that of right to them doth belong this gouernment that wee now guide, if they setting aside all sinister hate, will come and friendly a­gaine repossesse this Crowne and kingdome, and with mutuall loue striue to maintaine that, which with their enuious emulation they now massacre and maime, then on our shoulders will we beare their bur­thens, and with according strength helpe them to stay this tottering state, which their déedes haue almost brought to decay: but if incensed with the fire of furious flaming enuie, they wil not worke their thoughts con­formable to this thing, but with fire and sworde will néedes lay waste this sometimes worthie Common­wealth, then will wee oppose our selues against their threats, and seeke such a mends for this mischiefe, as shall with iust iudgement pull downe their puffed vp plumes, and turne them out againe into the wide world to become a worser skorne of mischance. With this an­swere the messengers departing: and hauing tolde at home their seuerall tales, it so displeased the Princes, that presently without further delay they would the next morning furiously with both their forces set vpon [Page] the gouernours of their countrie, and when they had conquered them, then be take themselues to striue whe­ther should bee sole conqueror. Word whereof being spéedily brought to the Senatours, they against y e next morning gins prepare all their power, and pitching their battell vpon the bosome of a broad plaine that lay betwixt the enemies leaguers, made offer to fight with them both at once. Which when the enemies saw, they as readie to take the occasion as the other to offer, gins furiously to set vpon them, where ioyning streight at handie stroakes, there followed a long and furious fight, the victorie to neither part declining, till at last Adrianus that then had the charge of a Cornet of horse, breaking into the bowels of the enemies battels, wrought such wonderfull atchiuements, as made him iustly accounted for the best approued souldier that that countrie did euer containe, with whose worth the foes were so discōfited, that on a sudden affrighted they be­tooke themselues to flight, whom he eagerly following ouertooke the two Kings, that by chance had met in the battel, eagerly occupying their seete to escape y scourge of their enemies hands, whom hee surprising brought backe againe to their homes, and presented them to the Senate as the first fruites of his fortune. Where by this time were gathered together the most of those go­uernours, to gratulate their forward friends that were returned safe from the fight, who wondering at his worth, could not sufficiently commend his courage: but consulting now with themselues what were best to be done in this dangerous busines.

How after that these two Kings were o­uercome, Adrianus was chosen king of that countrie, and how he came to know his father and mother, by which the former fals­hood was descried. CHAP. 9.

AT last they thought it best, that since these two balefull brethrē did euen in their captiuitie still deny to take vpō them the mu­tuall gouernment of that king­dome, intended for their after quiet to choose some one of these worthies y t had there wrought their release. And for that they would not incurre the displeasure of any of those coe­quall Captaines, that had so brauely demeaned them­selues, a motion was made amongst them, that for so much as there was no lineall succession left for the in­heritance of their kingdome, they then had thus deter­mined to cast lots amongst them all so to choose their King: which fell vpon Adrianus, of whom they were as glad as his owne hap was good, who with euery se­uerall ceremonie belonging to the coronation of such a King established in that countrie, hée first recals from their banishment all those Outlawes by whom he was brought thither, and preferring of his friend and some­times his Captaine, to a place of great authoritie in his kingdome, taught him to imploy his wit in the building of that Common-wealth vp againe, the which afore he laboured to pull downe. This Captaine we tolde you [Page] before had by Liuia his wife a fayre daughter named Laryna, to whom Adrianus in the time of his abode in her fathers house had oftentimes made loue, and shée with like fauour requited him, who but for the sudden sound of these new wrought warres, had by the con­sent of their parents before inioyed the pleasure they both so instantly desired, who then comming to the Court with her mother, the two captiue Quéenes, and the rest of their retinue, was presently by the consent of the Senate, who desired nothing more then some is­suing heires that might successiuely follow in the pos­session of this kingdome, coupled in marriage with this new King. After which ioyfull day, the King and the Quéene, with the rest of the Nobles gathered toge­ther, cals in those captiue brethren to know the cause whence grew their discord, and the two women to in­quire of them what had béen the manner of their former liues. Where when they were all met, the old Quéenes séeing their husbands there fast in fetters, touched with a remorce of conscionce, fals downe before them, and there confessed the whole course of their liues, and the murthering of their children. By the circumstances of whose tale and the time thereof, these two lost children there found out their seuerall parents: and so faults on both sides forgiuen, and iniuries on euery part made euen, they spent the rest of their dayes in so­lemne contrition for their for­mer faults.

FINIS.

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