Cap. 1.

AT what time Zamieis Ninias, the fift Emperour of Assiria, sonne of Ninus, and Ascolanta Semiramis, had in battell van­quished th'accursed sonne of his father, and common ene­mie to mankind Cham, other­wise called the Egipsian Sa­turne, and sonne of Noa, then vsurping ouer the Bactrians: part of his Nauie (vpon oc­casion) returning by Schythia, was so dangerouslye tossed with stormes and seas, that they which seemed euen now most glorious and insolent victors, appeared then most miserable and desolate wretches. Neuerthelesse, after long dispayre of their liues, great losse of their treasure, and extreme danger of both, the disparkled fleete of the Assirians ariued at Niniuie, one only ship excepted, wher­in were imbarked more then a hundred braue soldiours, ouer whom one Sorares was captaine.

Not far from that place whereas the mountains Tau­rus and Caucasus begin the headsprings of all the Asian Seas, which take their sundrie names according to the channels, whereinto the scattered waters fal, there lieth an Iland, no lesse obscure for the scituation, then vnfre­quented for the infertilitie thereof: into this Iland, the ship of Sorares was by tempest driuen. Where hauing [Page] landed his men, and repaired his wetherbeaten Uessell, he determined a further search into the Iland, as well to learne what commodities might there be founde, as also to keepe his soldiors occupied, vntill time might serue more conueniently for their departure away: and therfore marching from his ship in good order, he pearsed a greate part of the same Ilande, wherein he found nothing but myrie bogges, or stiepie rockes, not worth the discouerie, much lesse the trauell or hazarde of a conquest: and he made it no wonder that hee founde no people there to de­fend it, seing he himself thought euery [...]day a yeare, vntill he had left it.

At the length, sending the wind to be more fauourable, then their discouerie profitable, his purpose was to retire his men, and forthwith to haue wayed anker. But whilste he rested in this resolution, the Assirians might espie (des­cending towards them from a mountaine) two men alto­gether vnweaponed and naked, sauing that their pined bodies were in some parts disorderly couered with a few vnhandsome rags: their lookes seemed wilde, their coun­tinaunces full of heauinesse, their colour swarth, their heare and beardes long, lothsome, and vnkembde, and (to describe them in a word) being men in shape, they seemed monsters in show: but yet such monsters, as were rather to be pitied for their penurie, then to be feared for their crueltie.

These being come before the Assirians, albeit their sa­uage demeanour sauoured more of the place of their pre­sent abode, then of the ciuilitie (small though it were) of the countrey wherein they were bread, yet remembring that they were men, & that they were to deale with men, the one of them, whose name was Arbaces sometimes a Duke in Media, had these following speeches.

Cap. 2.

MOst happie people (to whom othewise I shoulde haue giuen a contrarie salutation, had not I des­scried your ship, a friendly instrument to rid you out of so fruitlesse an Iland) I woulde not haue you imagine that wanting swordes to expell you, wee indeuour by words to cerrifie you. We are but twaine (as you see) and the only inhabitants of this vninhabitable Iland, yet twaine a greater number then that the plentie of this place is a­ble to satisfie, not for that we are couetous desiring all, but miserable hauing nothing. Our foode is roots, grasse, and leaues, our lodging a Caue framed by nature out of the hard quarrie, our bed mosse, our apparell only such as you see, and the same the vnhappie spoiles of our haplesse companions: yet these are trifles in respect of a tragedie.

And for that you haue partlye some experience of the place, though better cheape by all, then we that haue pai­ed therefore to the vttermoste, I leaue you to iudge how it doth battell, by the view of our forlorne persona­ges: saying in a word, that hell is no hell in compari­son of this, or that this is hell it selfe without any com­parison.

In that we liue we are not vngratefull to the Gods, but in that we are not dead we account our selues vnfor­tunate: for had death bene plyant to our petions, the end of our liues had bene long since the end of our sorrowes. But hope ouercomming dispaire, for that in the one is possibilitie, in the other no remedie, knowing that as the Gods haue power by iustice to punish, so they haue will by mercie to pardon, and considering that Fortune is pain­ted with two faces, frowning with the one, and smiling with the other, that winter doth bite but sommer burnish, we haue made necessitie a vertue, continuance a custome, and patience our protector.

[Page]Whence we are our language bewrayeth, what you are your Ensignes doe manifest, but what we demaunde, resteth as yet vntouched.

We will not feare to speake, though you spare not to strike, aboundaunce of hardnesse hath made vs hardie, the worst of your malice can be but death, and the best thing may betide vs, shall bee change of our liues. We are Meades, not monsters, ciuile people, not sauadge Ilan­ders, banished from home through your prosperitie, and betrayed here through our owne practises, once flying your enmitie, and now following your friendship, as men enforced to the first by your wronges, and constrained to the later through our owne wretchednesse. With this courage neuerthelesse (ye Assirians) we sollicitate your fauour, that if the old rancour of your grudge, be not yet qualified with the newe spectacle of our present calami­ties, our sides (know ye) haue not as yet taken so muche the propertie of these hard Rockes, but that they will ea­sily giue entrance to your reuenging weapons. Albeit, by the way, it might be sayde, that as you are to deale roughly with those that stand against you in combate, so ought you to deale mercifullye with those which at your feete lie prustrate, for in the one your courage is not more magnificent, then in the other your charitie meritorious: and though it be glorious to ouercome by battell, yet is it more glorious to be ouercome by pittie. For (alas) shall men whom nature hath endued with reason, and vnited in originall amitie, by occasion of any corrupt accident, continue more malitious than vnreasonable or sencelesse creatures? Doth not the Plantane profit the toade in dis­burdening her of the superfluitie of poyson? and the same neuerthelesse, stand vs in steede to many good purposes, or doth it derogate any thing from vertue, if by our indu­strie wee better the vitious? or shall wee cut of those limbes that are now sound, because the same were once sore?

[Page]Well, if remembring what we haue bene, you wil not conceaue what we would be, if our humble submission be thought an insufficient reconciliation, if you feare vs that haue neither will nor power to harme you, if you wil not (which is the summe of our sute) deliuer vs from hence, that of our own accord are falne into your handes: if (I say) it be your pleasures that we shall not weepe for vnex­pected kindnesse, whom you shall not enforce to dread for any practised torments, then assure your selues, you can­not be more tirannous, then we patient, and our death shall be more dishonourable to you, then our graues dis­contenting to vs.

The only thing we craue is to be conuaied out of this Iland, a small petition, and easily performed: the poizi­nesse of twaine will not be burdenous to your barke, and the hyer for our passage shall lighten your hartes. But to what purpose should I vse more speeches, if you bee mercifull enough is sayd, if mercilesse much more wil not serue.

Cap. 3.

HOw rufully these wordes were vttered by the mise­ble Meade and how effectually the same wrought in the hartes of the Assirians, the passioned gestures of the one did testifie, and the pittifull regards of the other wit­nesse. Let it suffice, that the sillie soules were pitied, their pensiuenesse comforted, their bodies appareled, al former enmitie pardoned, and libertie promised.

But see what an euill euent followed so good an hansel. In the night before the Assirians should depart, Sorares calling diuers the cheefe of his soldiors to suppe with him in his cabben, enuited amongst the rest the two Meades, and after supper ended, he intreated the miserable Duke to declare by what mishap they chanced into that harbor­lesse Iland, wherevpon Arbaces proceeded in this maner.

[Page]Albeit (good Sorares, and you the rest of our benefac­tors) the remembraunce of our passed sorrowes will bee little lesse then a present death to our spirits, the whiche without anguish we cannot rehearse, nor you without pittie heare, yet shall you not find vs daintie to aunswere your request, whom we haue found so forward to yield vs releefe.

Aboue two hundred yeares of mine age are alreadie passed, a short time, if not lengthened out with continuall sorrowes, the roote therof chiefly springing from Assiria: and yet (good Sorares) thinke not that hauing cause to curse your countriemen that banished vs into this Iland, that therfore we will cease our prayers for you, by whom our deliuerie is promised, seeing why wee should malice you we can render no reason, but why we should honour you we haue good occasion.

The purportie of this my speeche is to be construed to this purpose, that as we are not to accuse you for our re­ceaued iniuries at the handes of your predicessors, so is it not necessarie that in malice you become their successors: for if we shall make their olde controuersies, our newe quarrels, it will followe, that first the worlde and all thinges shall cease to be, before strife and discorde shall cease to grow. But hitherto I haue bene rather tedi­ous to your eares, then aunswering to your demaundes, yet pardon my beginning, and with patience carrie an ende.

It is a worlde to note the wondrous alteration of all thinges, euen of late dayes, for omitting to speake of the time before the generall deluge, I will onely glaunce at the superfluitie of this our present age.

It hath bene, yea within the time of my remembe­raunce, that men thought themselues more sure in their wilde Caues, then now safe in their walled Castles, bet­ter contēting themselues with the vnforced fruitfulnesse of the earth, then now satisfied with their fruitlesse com­pounds [Page] enforced by art, the simplicitie of nature prescri­bed vnto them an absolute law, but ouermuch curiositie now, subuerteth both law and nature. What speake I of part? when it is manifest that no sooner golde and siluer the Ambassadors from hell, had insinuated themselues in­to the hartes of men, but that a generall subuertion was made of all.

Nemroth then taking vpon him an vnknowne title, not euer heard of before in all the world, much lesse in Caldia, became a king in Babilon: who, by suttletie hauing wone the harts of the vnpollitick people, by that meanes got them vnder the yoke of seruitude. Nemroth being dead, his sonne Belus hunting after greater superioritie than was by his father newly exacted, pretended by warres to dilate his dominions, whose dreadfull purpose being by death made frustrate, his sonne Ninus, your late Emperor and our then persecutor, did execute. Making his new in­uention of warre & battell not only terrible to those that did taste it, but horrible to vs whiche as yet did not feele it.

After a while it came to passe, that we who hetherto did only heare much mischiefe of warre reported, did now suffer the effects of that, which of long time we feared: for Ninus landing an armie of soldiours in Media, obtayned an easie victorie against vs bad warriours, and in respect of holdes, armour and artilerie, a people vtterlye na­ked.

Ninus being thus conqueror, & we conquered, our king Farnus, his wife and vii. children murdered, cōtinual like­lihoods of an vniuersal slaughter still appearing, & the de­solation of the whole countrey being generally expected for, diuers Nobles of Media, and others not of the basest calling, to the nūber of 100 & vpwards, of y ^t which nūber, & the whole number now liuing we two are, hauing con­uayed into a shippe the gold and cheefest treasure of our slaughtered king, and rather trusting to the incertaintie [Page] of the seas, then to the inhumanitie of the Assirian sol­diors, in an vnluckie hower hoisted vp our sailes, leauing with teares our wasted countrey, as men compelled to search after some new habitation.

The seas we passed were numberlesse, the sorrowes we suffred were greeuous, the daungers we escaped were perilous, how farre we had sayled we account not, howe farre we should saile, we knew not, where to ariue wee were ignoraunt, and all places (if farre enough from the Assirians) seemed to vs indifferent.

In the end, being no lesse vnfortunate in our seafaring, then vnexpert in the new art of nauigation, seing our vit­tels to waste, our vessel to leake, and our tackling to faile, such was then our comfortlesse dispaire, that hauing no hope at all to escape the threatning waues, it did only for­thinke vs that we forsooke our natural graues, in our na­tiue countrie, to finish our liues without honour amongst the mercilesse surges. But corke wanteth waite to sinke, and lead is ouer heauie to swimme, we were not so happy as to suffer shipwrack on the seas, being predestinate to sorrowes on the shoare.

At the length we espied this Ilande, and making to the same, nere about the place wher this ship now rideth, we stroke saile: and (vnhappie men) so ioyfull to vs see­med this our ariuall, that then promising to our selues securitie, whē we did but newly enter into our sorrowes, we leapt from out our ship, with mindes neuer to reenter the same, kissing the very earth that first receaued vs a shore: this hapned about mid-day, but before night, our mirth was thus turned to mone.

Not hauing, as yet, made any sacrifice to the Gods, be­fore search of the profit, or disprofit of the place, any consi­deration care or forecast of afterclaps whatsoeuer, we be­gan to vnfraught our ship, laying our gold and treasure on the next shoar. Scarcely had the last man brought the last burthen from the ship, but that a contention fell be­twixt [Page] two of the noble men (seuerally before time noted of Ambition and Auarice) about the diuision of the same treasure. And such was their madnesse, that albeit their present plight rather required lowly teares, than haugh­tie titles, yet Ambition not yeelding an ynch to Auarice, either of them sought by farre discentes to fetch their pe­tigrees from Iapeth and Madus, of whom we are the off­spring, as nere as possibly they might.

Amongst the inferior sort, there was one Chebron, a lustie taule fellow, of a hote cholericke complexion, and an inuincible courage: he seeing the controuersie, that now began more & more to encrease, bending his browes and laying hand on his weapon, spake many words much displeasing to either of the contentious compettitours. And were it not (Sorares) that I shoulde cloy your eares with ouer lōg a discourse, I would also repeat his words, the which I yet remember, as (in my conceit) wel worthy the noting.

Here Sorares interrupting him sayd: If (good my friend) it shal not be troublesome for you to speake, it shal not be tedious for vs to heare, our dayes worke is done, and it is yet but early nights, let those that will sleepe, as for my selfe I am prouided to wake.

And were I also able (qd. Arbaces) to counterfeite the magnanimitie that then appeared in his countinaunce, I would not willingly pretermit the same, but these were the words that Chebron then vsed.

Cap. 4.

JF so be (my dere friends and countreimen) the inuasi­on of the Assirians, the ruine of Media, and our late passed perils, had ben to me by oracle or otherwise reuea­led, I then would haue made you acquainted before hand with that which was threatned to follow: so might wee either haue pacified the Gods by prayer, encouraged our [Page] selues to abyde the daunger, or else before it had hapned haue dyed for sorrow: but, contrary to our expectations wee haue auoyded the outrage of our foes, and though hardly yet safly escaped the seas.

But nowe, if I that cannot diuine as a prophet, pre­nosticate as an Astrologer, inuocate as a Nigroman­cer, obserue as an Augur, interpret as a Dreamer, calcu­late as a Wyzarde, or cast figure as an Arteste, shoulde say vnto you, that the mischiues yet behinde, are more & greater than whereof we haue already our shares, you (perhaps) thinking it impossible, would esteeme it as a fable, and accompt me as a foole.

O people for your inconsiderate peeuishnes to bee pi­tied, are your eyes cleare and yet will you counterfaite blyndnes? haue you your senses, and yet will you seeme sensles? and seeing imminent distruction, dare you ne­uertheles be desperate? haue you bene ouercome by men, betweene whom and you ought to be an equalitie, and yet are you feareles of monsters, betweene whom and you consisteth no indifferencie? muse not at that which I haue spoken, for you are likely to find more thē monsters, being to encounter with Ambition and Auarice, thone by presumption, woulde rente the gods from the skyes, and thother rest vncontented to possesse their seates, & vn­les both be incountred, neither of both can be conquered, such is their vndeuisible properties.

Know yee not (my friendes) that the ambitious per­son, neither hauing gentry to elate him, reuenewes to in­rich him, personage to adorne him wit to aduaunce him, good qualities to preferre him, or any one vertue to com­mend him, if by the benefit of fortune her blyndnes, he at­tayneth to dignity hee forthwith becommeth a lordelike tyrant, a vainglorious Magnifico, careles of other mens profit, and arrogant of his own preferment: his counti­nance is fastidious, his speechloftie, his meditat [...]ons as­spiring, not brooking his superiour, nor bearing his e­quall, [Page] to his inferiors burdinous, to all men cumbersom & not remēbring his old friends that forgetth his newselfe.

If beggers thus set on horsebacke ride a galop, let vs then make accompt, that these claiming by gentry will ply the spurre. Briefly what can I say more, thē in effect is already experienced? see you not or are you willingly blinde? how these two gallants onely remembring what they sometime were but not acknowledging what they presently be, make no question of our safety, but fall to quarrels for their priuate superiority: not considering y ^• fire once squenched forgoeth both heate & brightnes, that grasse once mowed, looseth both sap and greenes, & that a noble man exiled, if not of noble birth, yet of authority and honorable estimation standeth disgraded.

But let it be that banishment is no dispargement to birth, yet should we for our own assurance, respect the se­quell, & haue an eie to their inclinations whom we admit to rule. For mine own part I carry this opinion, that had these men no other fault, yet are they therefore vnfit for gouernment, because so forward to gouerne: authoritie should be denyed to such as desire it, & offred to those that refuse it, for a wise man and one well minded, neuer recei­ueth an office, vnles thereunto compelled, as foreseeing y ^t the same to his body shalbe a trauell, to his conscience a care, that he shalbe marked of all, enuied of many, & can­not but daunce in a ne [...]. But such as are these our high minded intrudors (whom we may therefore call ignoble, because not vertuous, as hauing already dashed at home against the rockes of ignomie, and now here entred into vtter shipwracke of the small remaine of their credit,) these I say chaleng preeminence not for desertes, but of duty: exacting y ^t of vs through ambition, which they can neither discreatly discharge, nor we dangerles dispose: & yet like as violent waters are prone to often eruptions, becōming shallowest within their ordinary channels, so proud persons are euermore capable of higher dignities, [Page] though not wel able, to excercise their present meane offi­ces: stil doth the proud man flatter himself in that that he would, not esteeming of himself in any point as he ought.

There is hardly that thing so good, but there may be a better, or that thing so bad, but there may be a worser: the wilde oliue is sauerie, but the ripe figge is sweeter, the Tiger mangleth with her teeth, but the Baselique mur­dereth with her eye: there is no beautie without some blemish, nor any blemish that is not either naturall, or ne­cessarie: no perfection with some imperfection, and yet the same imperfection either to be cured, or tollerable: only Ambition, vntill of it own selfe it be deuoured, is bloodlesse for blushing, and intractable for taming, penu­rie doth not decrease it, and plentie doth increase it, in wel doing it is insolent, in ill doing impudent.

As for the other monster Auerise, a little varying from Ambition in qualitie of affection, but not in quantitie of affecting, this (I say) is still hunting, but euermore hun­gering, still praying, but continually pining, stil getting but neuer gaining, and still hoording, but neuer hauing. For as the hollow spoute receaueth much water, and yet retaineth nothing but ayre, so the couetous man gathe­reth much wealth, and yet possesseth nothing but cares, and only he of all monsters, in his rauenous deuouring is vnsatiable: for whereas commonly all other vices by old age are impaired, his only vice is theerby repaired, the nerenesse of the graue the rather adding to nigardise.

O most miserable man, to whome is wanting as well that which he possesseth, as that which he wanteth, hee hungereth after that which he coueteth, and feareth to lose that which he emoyeth, and as in aduersitie he cra­ueth prosperitie, so in prosperitie he feareth aduersitie, in his superior he dreadeth force, in his inferiour he m [...]stru­steth theft, such (I say) is his wretched estate, that he pre­sently suffereth all and so much as he feareth. Therefore is it a true saying, that nothing may bee wished more [Page] harmefull to a couetous man, then long life. And (trust me) if we consider with what toile wealth is got, with what danger it is kept, what charmes in vsing it, what detriment in abusing it, and with what anguish we leaue it, then shall we find more profite in pouertie, then quiet­nesse in riches.

One thing it is to be happie, and an other to bee riche▪ but detestable is the exchange, when to follow golde wee forsake the Gods: as no doubt doth the couetous man, of whom what should I more say? but that his life is dete­sted of many, his death desired of all, and being dead, the poore man curseth, his heire reioyceth, the saints weepe, and the diuels laugh.

How harmeful (ye Meades) these two monsters haue bene, all the world hath found, we haue felt, and more shal feele, except being yet but yong Snakes, they be cut off, before they grow to be old Serpents.

If these two iollie Champions had bene well counce­led, and not so couitous, or more pollitick, and lesse proud: then this vnnecessarie strife shoulde haue bene the last thing of a thousand, for our behoofes much more necessa­rie: Neither would they haue perswaded themselues to be Kinges not being assured of subiects, nor haue conten­ded for a kingdome, not hauing conquered an Iland.

Alas how much more vnfortunate are we in transpor­ting these reliques of gentrie, and small remnant of trea­sure into Scithia, then in leauing the blood of our friends, and masses of wealth behind vs in Media.

But if you can be content to cherpe in cages, that may sing in the bushes, if you can disgest that these feast with full dishes, whilste you shall fast with emptie bellies, that they sing whilst you sorrow, that they bee adorned with chaines of gold in token of their superfluitie, whilst you shall be fettered with yrons, as pledges of your necessity. If it be your pleasures to make them your Lordes, and you to become their slaues, yet shall you vnderstand that [Page] Chebron hath set an hier prise of his freedome, then to ex­change it for such bōdage. And though it be not my mea­ning to be superiour to the worst here, yet thinke I my selfe equall to the better of these two, and he which hath deserued any thing at all, hath deserued more then either of them: only their new courage seemeth straunge to me, so well acquainted with their late cowardise.

Are not these the men? or were they then meta­morphosed, from Egles, to Owles, or from Lions to Lambes? that whilest we applyed the pumpe, reeling vp and downe the ship could naught else but purge: that whilst we laboured on the hatches, lay quaking in their cabbens? Yes verely, these iolly fellowes are the verie same, to one of which (for not aboue one may be receiued into a kingdome) you may resigne the pleasures of your ouerpassed perrils: as for my selfe, I more account of li­bertie then esteeme of such pollicie, and am more zealous of your welfare, then carefull of mine owne safetie, fea­ring more a comming then our common scourge.

Cap. 5.

THus much Chebron with a couragious countinaunce spake, and was about to haue said more, but that he es­pied one of those two against whome he thus enuaied (im­patient of his speeches) to aime a dart against his head: wherefore the same anger that before had occasioned him to speake, and then had tied his tongue, moued him now to vse his weapon, the which he pearced into the bowels of him that threatned the flinging of the dart: and with the like successe hee also dispatched the other standing amased in beholding his dying companion, saying: happily you shall find hell a gulfe as vnrepleatable, as your selues haue bene men vnsatiable.

Beleeue me (Sorares) whether it were the vigorious force of magnanimitie, that then proceeded from him (for [Page] I may terme him magnanimious, whome neither flatte­ring, nor frowning fortune can alter, that preferreth me­diocritie before superfluitie, a common profit before a pri­uate gaine, and an honourable death, before a thraled life) or whether it were the tim [...]rous astonishment then plan­ted in vs, that gaue spurres to these his proceedinges I know not: but most certain it is▪ that like as y ^e shepheard entreth into the Coote, there sequestring from amidst the flockes, what sheepe it pleaseth him to appoint to the slaughter, so Chebron, euen in the middle of vs, on these two performed this tragedie so couragious was he, and so amased were we.

Anon, as our appaled spirits were reuiued, we began diuersly to construe of Chebron his words, & to conceaue of his deedes, and being amongst our selues diuided, one part protested that he had wel done, an other company de­tested his deede, and some not intermedling at all, stoode as newters. The more that Chebron intreated the facti­ous accomplices with reason, the more they threatned him and his adherents with rigour, so that seeing them desperately addicted to assaute, he vnwillingly prouided to resist: wherevpon they fell from brawling to blowes, and from wrangling to wounds, and he that now killeth, is himselfe by and by killed.

Whilst we yet persist in this same franticke mutinie, making horrible hauocke one of an other: Those before named persons which either for feare durst not, or for po­licie would not be dealers in this quarrell, these men had loden themselues with great store of the treasure, & min­ding whilst we were thus busted in the fray, to haue made a mart of our miseries, dr [...]w [...]owards the ship, with pur­pose to haue sailed away.

But a common souldiour, a factio [...]s fellow, smelling ou [...] this their pretence, and getting aboord before any of these stinche [...]s mighte enter, had fyred the same in sundrie places, the whiche hauing of it selfe sufficiente [Page] of combustable matter, was quickly consumed.

This we espied, and as we could not then intend it for the fray, so remained we so farre of from squenching the flame, that it rather reioyced vs of the so preuenting of those dastards, (as we did then terme them) then once thought on the misery that hereof ensued, for hauing gold we vainly perswaded our selues not to want any thing. But by this meanes those that woulde thus haue fledde, were now enforced to take a part in our ciuil fight.

Still perseuer we in mangling and murthering one an other, vntill Chebron and his adherentes had vtterly confounded the aduerse party, and that of an hundred men and more that ariued here, within fiue or sixe howers on­ly xvi. remained vnslaine, yet we (though so small a nū ­ber to deuide so great a bootie) in the sharing had well nere begone a second broile, and that day (I would wee had bene so happie) had ben the last to vs al, had not night preuented our harebraine proceedings, and darkenesse stayed our desperatenesse. But daylight thus failing vs▪ euery man bestowed himselfe vpon a seuerall pile of the heaped treasure, keeping a wakefull & suspicious watche, of all that night.

As soone as the gray morning appeared, and that wee beheld the wooluish aspects of our own selues with blood embrued, the dead carkases of our slaughtered compani­ons, and looking towards the sea, remembred the burning of our ship, and perishing of our vittailes, then, then, our furious fearcenesse was changed to feareful fantisies, and our headie rashnesse to helplesse repentance. But what dwell I longer on this mischiefe, the matter being much more dolorous that resteth yet vnresited.

When our handes were thus ouersoone filled with blood, & that our eyes had ouer late emptied their teares, although our sore limmes require rest, yet our sharpe ap­petites hunger for foode: and therefore as well pricked forwards by hunger, as desirous to be instructed what a [Page] profitable plot we had picked out for our here abode, wee discouered into the farthest circuit of this Iland. But the same seemed abhorred of the gods, and we found it vtterly abandoned of men, beastes, fowles, fruites, and euery o­ther thing necessarie for mans behoofe: and (worser then so) we being shiplesse, and on euery side with main Seas enuironed, did also remain hopelesse of our deliuerie from hence.

Now in this melancholie, euery man laid violent hand vpon Chebron, fathering our woes vpon his late inuec­tiue wordes, whereby (in my conceit) hee rather intented quietnesse than pretended any suche quarrels: howbeit our mutinous minds altered with the time and troubles, made a newe construction of his zealous meaning, and doe what he could, we pressed him to death vnder an huge heape of golde, whose bones vnder the pile are yet extant.

After this, some of our companie not able to abide the extremitie of this climate, the stench of the ayre, and stiri­litie of the Iland, by mutuall consents, made mutuall dis­patch of their own persons, and shortly after vntimelye death finished the liues of the residue, who being far more fortunate in dying, then wee in suruiuing, lefte onelye vs two the vnhappy inheritours of these vnspeakeable ca­lamities.

Thus haue you heard (Sorares) the effect, though not the full of our tragicall ariuall, and to morrowe wee will gratifie you with so much gold, as shall partlye counter­uaile your great curtesie, though not comparable to the conceaued comfort of our promised deliuerie.

Arbaces thus finished his lamentable discourse, and So­rares dismissed the whole company euery man to his lod­ging.

Cap. 6.

THe next morning Arbaces and the other Meade his fellow conducted the Assirians vnto the piles of gold, being in a manner ouergrowne with mosse and rust, with which bootie the Assirians with merrie harts and many hands, had quickly fraughted their ship.

But vnceasable are the mischiefes that golde procu­reth, and vnsatiable are the mindes of couetous men.

Sorares being thus spead of this bootie, and hauing consulted with his countrimen of a further inquisition, began now to exact at the handes of the poore Meades a greater pray then wherein they coulde satisfie their aue­rise, hunting after that whiche was not there to bee had, and (seeking as it were) to extort fire out of water, they would not be perswaded, but the guiltlesse soules had re­serued vnto themselues some greater treasure: denyall might not acquite them, nor intreaty saue them from tor­tures: so that hauing already passed some, to them were threatned other greater except they would promise, what (poore wretches) they could not performe.

But in the end, this diuilish deuise of the Assirians ha­stened their owne detrament: who thus dreaming of hid­den treasure, for searth thereof, had scattered themselues, without any one man remaining aboorde into euerye cor­ner of the Iland. When in the meane time, Arbaces and his fellow remembring how hardlye they had bene ham­pered, and were still indangered vnder those vngratefull men, whom they had euen now so bountifullye enriched, taking therefore that time as a fit oportunitie to auoyde their mynasses, boorded the vnmanned ship of Sorares: and cutting the cables, launch out at the pleasure of y ^e windes and the waues.

The Assirians anone (contrarie to their expectations) perceauing their ship aflote, ran like mad men vp & downe [Page] the shoare, where by outward signes, and sorrowfull ge­stures, as wringing their handes, howling out, and bea­ting their brestes, they signified such apparent motions of their perplexed minds, that euen the two Meades, expe­rienced of the self same distresse, and moued with compas­sion towards the vngrateful people, indeuoured in al they possibly might, to returne back againe in their succour: but all in vaine, doe what they might, contrarie windes resisted their mercifull meaning, carrying them quite a­way with an inualuable fraught of that treasure, whiche (as before) had chiefly procured all their troubles.

Whome we leaue safely to ariue in Sarmatia, and Sora­res with his couetous Assirians shut vp in the barren I­land, as meritorious possessors of so miserable a possessiō.

Of all which, of their successe, and of other not imper­tinent accidents, more remaineth hereafter to be read, in that which is here­in prosecuted.

Cap. 7.

IN this meane while, after that Zamieis his imperiall fleete (excepte that ship of Sorares) was ariued in Assiria, albeit the vāquishing of y ^e Ba­ctrians moued a cō ­mon mirth to al, yet the lacke of Sorares & his company cau­sed perticuler moan to some, and that es­pecially to Atys and Abynados, two braue youthes, the sonnes of the same So­rares, whome at his departure to the Bactrian warres hee had left at Niniuie.

These two youthfull gentlemen and brethren tooke the misse of their father with such impatiēce, that neither in­tised with their pleasaunt welfare at home, nor dreading whatsoeuer dangers might happen them abroad, nor yet disswaded by any their dearest friendes, did voluntarilye vow themselues to continuall trauels, vntill either they should heare tidings of the life or death of their father, or at the least wife, their own dayes shoulde be determined by their vnknown destinies.

[Page]In this purpose therefore, accompanyed with diuerse other gentlemen, whose friendes were also missing, in a wel paueished ship they launche frō Niniuie: and hauing sailed through many seas, were now entred into that cha­nell, whereas the riuer Arexes leauing the sea Caspium, doth glide by the desertes of Scythia. Here on the top of an hill, they descry an auncient castell, and minding there (as in diuerse other places before) to learne tydinges of that wherunto their trauel tēded, they came ashoare: and whilest the rest were otherwise busyed, Atys and Abyna­dos went vnto and entred the castell: wherein they found no lyuing creature, but yet respecting the small osten­tatiō and curiositie of that nation, brauely furnished with all thinges necessary.

At the last, entring into an inner roome, as it were a parlour, in the middle whereof on an harth was a great fier, looking vp by chaunce into the roofe, they espie han­ging smocke-dryed three quarters of a man, as it seemed to them, not long before so dismembred.

If erewhile the ayre abroade was greeuous for colde, or nowe the fire here comfortable for heate, this horrible sight made them forgetfull of both: what might be dee­med of this monstrous spectacle they stand not to descant, neither durst they hazard to stay the enquiry, but esteeme it better pollicie to feare & fly what they did not yet feele, then to feele what they did feare & might flie: & therfore, such was their post-haste to be gone, and so great their feare in running away, that though to others they ran as Harts, yet to themselues they crept as Snayles, think­ing euery threashoole a thicket, and euery rishe a ridge in their way.

But whilest they thus skudde in their amasednes, at the foote of the hill they were encountred by the Lorde of the castell, wayted vpon with a number of seruauntes, some of them loaden with sundrie beastes by them newe­ly chased in those desertes.

[Page]The affrighted gentlemen being now come into the presence of the Scithian Lord, at whose handes they onely expected some rare tyrannie, not looking amongst those barbarous people, especially in that place, to finde at all any ciuile intertainement, were by him neuerthelesse curteously saluted, and at the length more vppon im­portunate intreaty on his parte, then any willingnes of their owne (for his faire speech might not shake off their fearefull coniectures) for that night entertained his guestes.

Cap. 8.

WHen the Scythians had (according to their cookri [...]) dighted the venson they had killed, part whereof they boyled in beastes hides, and other part they broyled on the coles, and when the Scythian Lord had sate a small while at supper, he rose vp suddenly, vnlocking a strong dore opening into that parlor, and then sitteth him downe againe at the table.

Anone after this came forth a Ladie most ritchly atti­red, in gesture so comely, in countinaunce so louely, in face so amiable, in bodie so proportionable, and in eue­rie part so formall, that nature might not possiblie worke more beautie in any creature, or any creature better be­come such largesse of nature: howbeit, as the hanginge vp of a net directly against the sonne, doth partly obscure the brighnes of his beames, so pensiuenes seemed some­what to diminish the featured regardes of this beautiful Paragone.

Harde by was prouided a side boorde, and there (ha­uing made lowe curtesie) she sitteth hir downe: present­lie whereupon her messe was furnished, onely with two or three broyled collops, cut from of the dead man his quarters, and before her was set water in his skull: then one of the seruauntes taking a ribbe out of a boxe, poun­dreth [Page] the same very small, and putteth it into the water.

Better, or other victuals then these (sweete soule) shee got not, and albeit her puling appetite disdayned so lothsome a diet, yet either must she thus feede, or else­pine without foode: so that rather enfeebling then filling her weake stomake with these dainties, she sheddeth more teares then the quantitie of water she drinketh, and fee­deth as sparingly as her fare was homely, for soone was she satisfied and as suddenly put againe vnder locke by her ouer vngentle gaoler.

No maruell though Atys and Abynados were nowe afresh drowned in their dompes, and had small liking to their meate, who not yet freed of their former feare, sawe new occasions of greater dreade: they pitie the Ladie & doubt their owne safetie, wishing her at large, and them­selues out of ieopardie: for (thinke they) seeing this ty­rant handleth thus vngently so gallant a Ladie, making the murdered carcases of men meate for those whome he hath reserued to further miserie, what shall become of vs wretches, how are we intrapped, and what death hath he for vs prepared?

The Scythian Lorde perceauing by their outwarde shewes their inwarde feare, cheereth them vp with a cur­tious welcome saying: gentlemen, you (perhaps) from whence you are come, accustomed to fare more finely, cā ­not acquaint your selues to feede here so grosely, yet we that are the chiefest in Scythia doe couet no better, and could be contented with worse, not esteeming anything or any more to be needefull, but onely that and so much as is presently necessarie: full furnished tables (say we) breede feeble surfets, but meane repastes make health­full persons.

We knowe that fewe thinges suffiseth nature, that superfluitie is a meere vanitie, that ouermuch meate so [...]teth the sences, that heauie cuppes make lighte heades, that curious Cookes make carefull maisters, [Page] that prodigalitie endeth in beggerie, and that gluttonie is opposite to vertue, and yet (alas) what fowle flyeth, what fishe swimmeth, or what beast paseth that man buryeth not within his bowels? howbeit man that so often deuoureth death in other creatures, is himselfe at length by death deuoured.

With others, change of seruices and costlye inter­tainement, is an occasion of seldome meetinges, slender familiaritie, and therefore small friendship: but with vs Welcome couereth the boord, Temperance marshalleth the dishes, and friendly Acceptance setteth on the voider: and onely he whosoeuer that seeketh a sumptuous host, is in Scythia accounted a saucie guest.

As for daintie foode or any like effeminacie, it is as rare here, as elsewhere commō. The theeues affright vs not for our mony, the mothes harme not our wardrops, the waspes waste not our ioncates neither make we our stomacks Apoticaries shops: but hūger maketh al meats to vs righte sauerie, and thirste sheare water as plea­sant as Nectar we feede for the most parte but of one dishe and that not very daintie, we vse but one coate and that not very costly, and possesse but one house, and that (as you see) homely: yea and I speake now of the best, not of the most, that lacke of thus well, and yet like as well, not wanting any thing, that content themselues with e­uery thing: pouertie yeelding vs this aduauntage, that whereas for wealth, other nations be inuaded with warre, the lacke thereof keepeth vs at home in peace.

Neither feare we to fight, if occasion shall serue, for although we shunne all causes of controuersie, yet know we howe to reuenge proffered iniuries: and that can all Asia well witnes, whom we euen we the Scythians, haue three times in open fieldes conquered, and our bowes made them three times vnto vs tributorie.

All this while the two breethren continue dismayed, by reason of the sightes they had lately behelde, taking [Page] taking small delight in those his speaches: whereuppon their gentle hoste brake of his former argument, & spake to his guestes as followeth.

Cap. 9.

WEre it not (gentlemen) that I my selfe am pa [...]tlye priuy to some sufficient cause of your sadnes, I could not but iudge you either verie sollitarie, or somewhat sullen (but trust me) my selfe a straunger in an other place as you are here, and seeing that which you haue here seene, coulde not but imagine and feare asmuch, or more then you haue feared: but the reason why I haue suffred these your dumps and not resolued your doubtes, was because I gladly woulde haue ouerpassed that in si­lence which will be more greeuous to me in resitall, then what you here behelde hath bene to you dreadfull, here­withall the water stoode in his eyes, and adding a small pause to the sheddinge of a fewe teares, he thus pro­ceedeth.

You shall vnderstande (qd. he) that the cursed owner of yonder same dismembred quarters, was almost from his cradell to me and mine a vowed enemy, by whom I often receaued much skaeth, but coulde neuer acquite my selfe of his enuie.

Know ye also, that the same Ladie, whom you behelde euen now in this place, was (without superstition bee it spoken) the adored goddesse of mine amorous deuotions, the emperious Mistresse of my martired heart, and the onely shee that helde me in loyaltie: whose beautie was my blysse, whose sweete countinaunce was my sole comforte, and to whome more then to my owne selfe I liued.

[...]hall I tell you? for her sake was I paciente of all labour [...] [...]enterous of al dangers, careles of all cumbats, and desperate of all deathes: for in loue is nothing di­ficile, [Page] but as the Hunter plyeth his Houndes, the Falk­ner his Hawkes, and the Fisher his Angle, forgetting the paine through delight of the pastime, so the louer prosecuteth his loue esteeming all labours and troubles but trifles, in respect of the inning hope of his amarous haruest: yea and by howe much deeper loue hath taken foundation, by so much the more sweeter is it in ope­ration, sau [...]ring altogether honie, and not senting gaule.

What shall I say? so pleasaunt, and stedfast was our mutuall loue, vntill on her parte violated, that it might haue bene made a question whether of vs was the louer, or which the beloued, our two heartes being (as it were) to either bodie common.

But as good Ladies are sometimes ouer lightly affi­ansed, so light wantons are often ouer firmely fantasied: nay (alas) it is commonly seene that trust hath the fay­rest tract leading to treason, and that in security we finde greatest sorrow.

This yonkar (whose guile hath bene thus rewarded with a deserued guerdon) when nowe no farther hope was left for the exercise of his malicious madnes against me, applyed then mine owne weapons to worke vnto my selfe woundes: solliciting secretly by louing nay lust­full tables this wicked woman.

Wicked may I well terme her: and wo-man, for that sext is an apte Etymologia. Ah gentlemen or euer I passe to my penaunce, which will be the ripping vp of The­tis her inconstancie, either suffer me to chewe vppon my melancholie, and (perhaps) choke, or else giue passage to my choler, so happely to ease mine heart with a chafe: which chafe I wishe may be to you a caution, as the cause thereof is to me a corasiue: for though Thetis is not euerie woman, yet followeth it not but [...] woman may proue a Thetis, and then were [...] o­ther Philosophie but implication, yet wom [...] might [Page] iustly be termed monsters in nature, as some (how cū ­ningly or curiously I iudge not) doe note them.

But what talke I of their natures, that can tell much more of their maners, O that I had bent more carefull in auoyding their companie, and lesse cunning in deci­phering their conditions.

What else are they (I accuse not all, and may not excuse a many) but ineuitable plagues, conuenient noy­sances, naturall temptations, couited calamities, hou­sholde hostilitie, and dilectable detramentes: whom wee cannot want without offence to the gods, nor holde with­out damage to our owne parsons: if shee be fayre shee is wooed and reddily checketh, if foule she wooeth and euer chooketh.

Good wine lacketh no tasters nor fayre women sutors, with an easie price and an iuie bush bad wine also is vt­tered: if she be poore then ouer chargeable to him that shall keepe her, and then shee flincheth: if rich, ouercu­rious for him that shall catch her, and then shee fleeceth: outwardly with arte is shee pullished, howsoeuer in­wardly polluted: her face painted, her beautie borrowed, her haire an others and that frissed, h [...]r gestures enfor­ced, her lookes premeditated, her backe bolstred, her brest bumbasted, her shoulders bared, and her middle straite laced, and then is she in fashion, when most out of fashion.

Besides her attire, eies hath shee to entise, teares to excuse, lookes to attract, smiles to flatter, embracements to prouoke resistaunce to yeelde, frownes to delay, bec [...]es to recall, lippes to inchaunt, kisses to enflame, and all these to poyson, applying thus to euerie member and mo­tion a seuerall arte.

Se prieth in her glasse like an Ape, to pranke her in [...] gaudes like a puppet, but being pruned (as shee [...]) to the purpose, yet doth shee but hurte nature with arte, and marre forme with fashion, and [Page] is like to the gloe worme, that is bright in the hedge, and blacke in the hande.

Shee discouereth that sometimes willingly, which shee woulde seeme to haue done vnaduisedly, shee pro­miseth one thing, and performeth an other, professeth cha­stitie, but practiseth the contrary: loue hir and you loose hir, make straunge and you winne hir, offer and she dis­dayneth, denie and shee dyeth, prayse hir and she pranketh dispise her and shee powteth, but (O diuell) if taken tar­die, then hir tongue vttereth such arte, that either shee auoydeth cunningly the suspition, or leaueth the matter doubtfull in suspence.

Teares hath shee at commaundement, and those of two sortes, weeping often for anger, and seldome for sorrow; of hir two extremes, Loue and Hate, hir loue is a minute, but hir hate a monument. As redily doth shee leaue as rashly shee doth loue, being as prone to mutabilitie as desirous of variety, changing for pleasure, but chusing for profit: and if at one time shee hath twentie sundrie [...]lyantes, yet can shee please eche man with a contrarie countinance, and dismisse them all at hir pleasure, ha­uing sotted their sences, and soaked them of their sub­stance.

For small goodnes shee claymeth great commenda­tions, but for great euill, hateth any controulemente: hauing charge ouer all shee complaineth of seruitude, be­ing abridged of parte shee exclaymeth of mistruste, if shee be wise (at the least in her owne conceite) then with a pre [...]se singularitie shee will ouerrule all, if foolish, then with a peeuishe simplicitie shee will not bee ruled at all, the first will be to brauely minded, the latter to base­lie manered, the one opinionate, the other obstinate, but both combersome.

Politicklie is shee wone, and peeuishly is shee [...], either doth not the rich mans daliances feede [...], or the poore mans diet fitte hir dalyaunces: [...] [Page] imperious, impatient, importunate, selfewilled, thanke­lesse, and full of reuenge.

Shunne (yong men) I say shun, except out of golden cuppes you will drinke poisoned draughts, to be guests in the guiles of these sweete sower Panthars: otherwise make account to find them such waiward fooles to please, and such foolish wantons being pleased, that if in win­ning they did trauell you, in wearing they will vtterlye tire you.

But see, lauish fellow how rashly hath my tongue run counter? & ouermuch choler (I feare me) hath so mistem­pered my wits, that it is doubtfull whether I haue vsed decorum in words. If therefore any modest matron, wife, or maiden had bene here present, either I would thā haue spoken in the booke, or could be contented to beare a Fa­got for any probable heresie: and no doubt they woulde pardon my glibbe toung in respect of my gauled hart, for blamelesse may loosers chaufe.

Well, best is no women are here to trauerse my chole­rick alligations, for hardly finde wee any pleading so for­mall, wherein the iudge (especiallye if labouring the cause) cannot, or at the leas [...] doeth not assigne er­rors.

Cap. 10.

THis my digression gentlemen (qd. the Scythian Lord) hath longer detained your teeth from your victuals, then y ^e discourse it selfe might haue displeased your eares for the villanie: and yet would I borrow your patience a little farther, for as I haue spoken some what of the infir­mitie of the feminine sexe being the matter wroughte, so would I breefely touche the impietie of lust, the meane wo [...]ng, by both whiche I haue bene wronged, and by [...] you may be warned.

From his freating frenzie, though of most vile and [Page] base condition, neither the mightie Potentate, nor the meane pessant, the valiant victor, nor the cowardly curle, haue ben or be exempted. And the reason why it so easilye ouercommeth and so extremely outrageth, is for that it promiseth to them trust whom it killeth with blindnesse, leading men euen with willing cordes to the pleasaunt court of vanitie, being garded thether by conducte of A­boundaunce and Prosperitie: in which courte Gluttonie doth dyet them, Letcherie doth chamber them, Pride doth apparell them, Sloth doth accompanie them, and Follie in all thinges followeth their humours. But whilste Te­diousnesse doeth here perswade that none maye come to heauen vnlesse they iournie barefooted vpon sharpe poin­ted booking, Securitie dryueth on his sleepie Chariote, and bringeth them to Hell, as it were on softe Feather­beds.

Like as fire worketh wood altogether into fire, so Lust wholy alienateth man into lasciuiousnesse: for if once it entreth the eye, it anon scaleth the head, and at length sac­keth the heart, and then (alas) the heart by degrees rea­dily delighteth, consenteth, fulfilleth, continueth, despay­reth, confirmeth, commendeth, and not (but too too late) repenteth the act.

This lasciuious passion (I saye) besides that, that it bringeth wealth to want, great possessions into smal pur­ses, it also effeminates the mind enfeebleth the body, slan­dereth the person, & endangereth the soule: yea it leaueth the body in such debilitie, that it maketh the same altoge­ther v [...]apt to any good action, and so infe [...]teth the mynd, that it vtterly dishaboreth euen the least motion to amēdment, so that body, mind, and man, become wholy vitious.

Lust hauing forerunners, Heate and Wantonnesse: companiōs, Scurilitie & Uncleannesse: pursuers, G [...]erfe and Repētance: whose matter is Gluttonie, whose [...] is Pride, whose sparckles is Ribaldrie, whose [...] Infamie, whose ashes is Filthinesse, and whose ende is

And albeit the pleasure passeth away in a tri [...]e, no soone: done but forgotten, and the punishment is permanent, yet so delightfull is the present sweete, that we neuer remem­ber the following sower.

Cap. 11.

FRom whence then may we fetche tried medecine to ap­plie to this vntoward maladie, when Agnus Castus is so geason to cure, and Mandragora so commō to procure, beleeue me my guests, for the auoiding both the mischiefe it selfe, and the inconuenience growing thereby, six rules are especially to be obserued as maximies.

The first whereof is Sobrietie in diet, for it is often [...] that in wine many thinges are done vnaduisedlye, Saturitie working accesse to venerie, and they haue ben at a wanton banquet willingly conquered, that but euen now disdained parlie with the assailent. The seconde is some bodily labour or studious excercise in some honest a­ction, wherby is preuented all such lewd toyes, and vaine meditations, wherevnto the minde, neuer but well or ill occupied, is easily entised: for ydlenesse is to a liuing man a sepulcher, but labour the minds medicine.

The third is decentnesse in attire and outwarde orna­ments, the which we are to vse for colde, not for colour, as couerings of our nakednesse not as allurements to licen­tiousnesse: for with the Gods, to intend is to trespasse, to will is to worke, and in either the offence all one.

The fourth is discreetely to restraine the libertie of our sences, not so to looke on the sunne that we dim our eyes with the brightnesse, not so to touch the berrie, that wee [...] blood with the brier, not so to taste home, that wee bless [...]g of the Bee; not so to heare melodie, that we neg­lect modestie, nor so to smell sweet odours, that wee sen [...]e [Page] not vnsauer is ordoures: but so to see, touche, taste, heare, and smell the intising lullabies of beautie, and flattering preparatiues to Venus, that by forecasting the inconueni­ence, we may the easilier escape the mischiefe: for repen­taunce was neuer but a looser.

The fift is, Sieldome wordes, and those with sobrie­tie, not by euill speeches to corrupte good manners: for what contenteth the eare, to that readilye consenteth the hart. And because (if for no other cause) he that is still ac­customed to speake ill, is by good reason suspected not to doe well, Ribaldrie is therefore not slightly to be reproo­ued: for well it is sayde, that the mindes image is the toung, and sometimes of wordes spoken but in meriment haue proceeded occasions working to a mischiefe.

The sixt and last is, To conquer opportunitie, when­soeuer we are offered the executing of our purposed lewd­nesse: for albeit we find the person pliant to performe, the place apt for performaunce, and the time conuenient for performing▪ yet at that very instant should we remember, that we ought not to doe all that we would, nor so muche as wee maye, but onely that whiche is lawfull and ho­nest.

But (my good guest) for so much as I cannot but con­fesse that this inordinate petulancie, delightfull euil, and sweet poison, Lust, is far more easie to be controled of all, then corrected of any one, as an infirmitie naturally (if I may so say) proceeding from our corrupt flesh, and the op­posite thereof more currant in praise, then conuersante in practise, I will therefore here lay a straw, and proceede to the matter from which I haue thus far digressed.

Cap. 12.

ARmatrites and Thetis (for Armatrites was his name) what by sending and resending of often tables and tokens (as I began to tell you) had concluded vpon their [Page] dishonest enterprise, and making sure of min [...] absence▪ had many meetings at this my castle: where not simplie con­tenting themselues with shamelesse coiture, they had al­so sorted the platforme how to haue murthered me.

The nighte came wherein my death was determined, in which Stratagem disloyal Thetis should haue none exe­cution. But as we lay a [...]bed amorously [...]oying, as is the trade of Louers, shee suddenlye fetched a deepe sigh [...], great plentie of teares then also brasting from out her eyes: whereat I no lesse amazed then greeued, as he tha [...] esteemed himselfe so long distempered, whilste I deeme [...] her in any thing disturbed, making my preparati [...]n with a payre or leash of kisses, did earnestly demaund the cause of such her passions: but shee not able of a long tyme to vtter any worde for weeping, at the length clasping her armes about my neck, and repaying my kisses with more then double interest, shifted mee off with this [...]leeuelesse aunswere.

Ah my louing Lord (qd. she) for so much as to disclose the cause of these mine extraordinarie teares, the whiche priuately concerne mine owne selfe, and nothing at all touch you, would be but the new remembrance of an olde sorrow, the which by scilence may be in time suppressed, by resightall in memorie the deeper impressed, maye it therefore please you of pardon, in that I am vnwilling to rehearse that, which I would (if it might be) so willingly forget. I being blinded with loue, and ouertaken with her dalyaunces, and not minding to vrge her any father then should stand with her own contentinent, questioned with her no longer as touching this matter: but for that I perceaued her mind to be perplexed, I my selfe was woonderfullye disquieted, and so laye mu­sing of all that nighte, withoute sleeping anye one winke.

[...] (beleeue me) if euer any man were beholding to sorrow, thē I of al other haue best cause to cōmend sorrow [Page] which kept me awake, and waking aliue.

For albeit he [...] mischieuous mind (I wot not howe re­lenting) did seeme now almost reclaimed from suche her murtherous intent, yet (as she her selfe afterwardes con­fessed) her new and erreuocable zeale to Armatrites had so ouermastred reason, that after a long combat betwixt pie­tie and crueltie, as she that would not haue attempted any thing to the annoying of me, could she otherwise haue at­tained to the inioying of him, was fully resolued to haue finished my life, if happely of all that night she had taken me napping.

But I not doubting at all any such wrong measure, hauing ouer night appointed with my huntesmen to bee early stirring, as soone therefore as day appeared, taking a louers leaue an hundred times at her lips, & leauing her a bed departed towards the desart: where by a straunge chaunce I got intelligence of such their false packing.

Cap. 13.

ARmatrites had a very beautifull concubine, who (I know not by what meanes) finding out y ^e new haūe that her sweete hart vsed to Thetis, seing her self (as it see­med) to be now scanted of that pleasure which before time she possessed, and therefore not meanely offended at suche his trecherie, when by no meanes she could intise home againe Armatrites, waxed then starke madde with anger, and not minding to die in his debt, that so discurteouslye had giuen her the gleeke, but enuying alike both him and his new chosen tr [...]ill, sought opportunitie to reuenge her on them both.

Scarcely had I gon three furlonges, but that I mette her posting toward this place, and although before time I knew her very well, yet anger had now estranged her countinaunce: but she with [...]hese homely salutations thus renewed our old acquaintance.

[Page]Thinke not thou Wittole (qd. she) that thy gay titles, or thine vsed or rather abused auctoritie amongst vs in these partes, shall so hinder my tongue, but that I dare to tel thee a troth: how commeth it to passe, that thou which oughest to be a punisher of offēders, art now becom a fau­tor of offences? that thou which art so zelous in doing iu­stice abrode, art so partiall in winking on vices at home? If the law maker may also be a law breaker, it will bee to small purpose that I accuse thee of the often meetings of Armatrites and Thetis at thy castell, thy countinaunce bol­string their incontinency. But if the breach of lawe in the magistrate, is more offensiue then in the meane subiect, for that by his course the vnskilfull companie are chiefely di­rected, then tell me (thou Pandar) how canst thou ex­cuse thy selfe of iniustice, or auoyd the reproche of this trumperie.

What is it possible that the auntient enmitie so long time continued betwixt Armatrites and thee, shoulde thus suddenly be grown to so familiar an attonement, as that thou canst be contented not only of an olde foe to make a new friend, but also so kind harted as to hold Thetis with him in coparcinerie? thou challenging thy propertie by night, and he chābering her as properly by day: it is (be­like) his office to keepe her warme in bed, whilst thou (as warrantable for thy head, as thy game for their hornes) art hunting abrode.

And lookest thou man so grimme, as if thou wert offen­ded I should charge thee so deepely? doest thou blush, as if but euen nowe ashamed of the bawderie? or arte thou dumme, as if thou wouldst pleade ignoraunce in a matter so manifest? if thou art offended I am carelesse of thy dis­pleasure, if ashamed, it is not without good occasion, if thou hast bene or diddest counterfeite to be ignorant, now say not but thou art sufficientlye warned, yea so warned, that euen now the time serueth for triall.

What therefore doth let (vnlesse thou art well ynough [Page] pleased with such patcherie) to proceede in punishment a­gainst so detestable harlots? Oh that I had the slitting of the strumpets nose, and these nayles of mine the scrat­ching out of their eyes.

Cap. 14.

WHilst she yet persisted in harping forth this and suche like vntunable hermonie, I neither rashly crediting the vnsuspected accusation, neither yet obstinatelye yiel­ding to the partialitie of mine owne affection▪ leauing her in the middle of this her mad musick, returned home long or euer I was looked for, and rushing suddenlye into the chamber, I founde the naughtie packes in bedde together.

Who perceiuing me, and being euill [...]payed of the pre­sence of so boysterous a Chamberlaine, began to reare themselues vprighte in the bedde: but as Armatrites sate hanging downe his head as it were dead in the neast, not so much ashamed of the beastly fact wherewithall he was taken, as fearing the disaduantage wherevnto his euill fortune had now brought him, I at one sweepe pared off his head, euen hard at his sweete-harts side. She looking for the like, and I meaning no lesse, sitting bathed in the gushing [...]out blood of her paramour, and bitterlye beway­ling the breach of her loyaltie towardes mee, did of her owne accorde constantlye humble her selfe to dye, of­fering her naked brest to bee pearced of my threatning weapon.

But had I the hart (thinke you) to bestow my weapon in that beautifull bosome of hers which I accounted euen now the increase of my solace, and de [...]rease of my sor­rowes? no no (howsoeuer you thinke my head worthye or vnworthye the arming) yet will I not omit a veritie: thrise my hart fully purposed her death, and thrise myne hande weelded the Weapon to haue berefte her of life, [Page] but thrise both hearte, and hande fainted and failed in performance thereof.

In the ende casting downe my partiall weapon, and withdrawing my selfe into an other chamber, after that I had a good while deliberated of the matter, and ouer­childishly lamented the manner, I resolued vpon this de­termination, that is, that the miserable woman shoulde still liue, detesting neuerthelesse vtterly to dispence with her lewdnesse: and therefore for punishment I enioyned her this pennance, neuer to tast any other sustinance, vn­till time she hath buried within her owne bowels, the whole carcasse of her lybidanous parramour.

This pennance in my displeasure haue I vnaduisedly vowed, and this vowe at more leasure haue I repented, for the suffring is not greater to her, then the sight there­of greeuous to me: and were it so (what shall it aduaun­tage me to dissemble) that I coulde without offence, absolue my selfe of the vowe I haue taken, I woulde most willingly dissolue her from the woes shee tasteth: but forasmuch as vowes made to the gods, are not to bee reuoked at the discretion of men, I esteeme it better, that shee by correction become hereafter pe­nitent, then that I by infringing my oathe, and shee by escaping vnpunished, become either of vs repro­bate.

Thus the Scythian Lorde with wet cheekes finished his tale, and Atys and Abynados were freed of further dread, though not a little grieued of so amiable a Ladie her infelicitie.

But after their honorable hoste had frankly giuen in commandement, that the drie booles should be plentifully controwled, & y ^t the wine with often quaffing had now a­nimated their courages, in the end the parsonable propor­tion of Thetis was rather wantonly remembred then her penance by them with any extraordinary pitie regarded: for they were well, & all was well, & so it cōmonly fareth [Page] with churles, that forget in their chaires the succurles in the colde.

Thus what with longe watching and deepe drin­king, sufficient quarrel being ministred to the pillow, ech man did sacrifise to the god of Ebona, vnder the harmeles protection of whose drowsie deitie I now leaue them.

But if any shall inquire farther as concerning Thetis, my aunswere must then rellish after the Oracle at Del­phos, that euermore left the certaintie of thinges to vn­certaine euentes, and howsoeuer it hapned with or con­trarie to expectation, yet still the euent made good the oracle: it may be, and perhaps not, that Pan hereafter in a seconde parte will pipe more of Thetis, vntill when, take what I tender for present payment, and what I promise as a desperate debte.

In the meane, time being desirous to keepe others waking with some exercise that may happely tende to their sollace, whilest I leaue Atys and Abynados ▪ sleeping, as the best remedie for their sur­fets, I shall make resitall of some matters canuased a shipborde, whilest they two are thus intertained of the Scythian ▪

Cap. 14.

THe long tariance of Atys, and Abynados being thus inter­tayned at the castell, caused those in the ship diuersly to descant of the matter, euerie man giuing a seuerall verdict as touching y ^e presumed cause of their absence: and by how­much they were assured of the fierce maners of the Scythians, by so much they feared the safetie of the two breethren.

But betaking the gentlemen, and the whole company of the souldiers, and saylers aborde, to their naturall rest, you shall be partaker, onely of the communication that passed betweene the maister, the masters-mate, and the Pylot, whilest these three, not vpon any necessarie constraint, but of their voluntarie consent, vndertooke to furnish the watch for that night, in their owne par­sons.

The Moone wanted nothing of hir parfit light, the clearenes of the sky, and brightnes of the starres adding as it were a seconde moone in the firmament, tempesti­ous Orion threatned no storme, neither was any a [...]er or element contrarie the silence of a generall calme: these comfortes, being in part countercheckes, against the fan­tasticall coniectures of the three carefull watchmen, mo­ued [Page] them in walking all the night vp and downe the hat­ches, to discourse many arguments, and participate diuerse straunge aduentures: and after the ripping vp of many daungers, distresses, and shipwrackes which them selues before time had hardly escaped, the euill fortune of Sorares, and his companie after whom they were then to enquire, with the present absence of A­tys and Abynados then newely missing, did giue oc­casion vnto the Maisters-mate to burst out into these speeches.

My poore parentes (qd. he) dying long agoe, left me to the wide worlde, a rawe thing God wot, and verie yong, without either wealth, friendes, or wit: so that being left in this daungerous estate, I continewed ma­ny yeares as desperate a race, and had I not chaunced by hap-hassard, before my too much libertie had made me ripe for the rope, to haue gotten into a gally, I had (no doubt) eare this day, with the prise of my necke, payed tribute to the gallowes, and therefore considering that I haue begone seafaring in youth childishly, haue practised it since desperatly, and must nowe continewe it of necessitie, I neede not greatly blush, though I speake somewhat against mine owne profession, to the practise whereof, I haue bene thus by chaunce-medly constrai­ned: but were mine abilitie such that I coulde liue and leaue it, as I am forwarde to disable and mislike it, I woulde sooner receiue a poore Cottage within the compasse of one small Citie, then a Safe-conduct, or (if it might be) a Charter to compasse the great and rich Ocean.

But leauing to speake of my selfe, I cannot muse e­nough at those wilde yonglinges, or witles fondlinges, whom neither the affaires of their prince or countrie compelleth, want of libertie at home constraineth, lacke of maintenance enforceth, traffique abroade occasioneth, hope of profit in [...]yseth, or any other necessary cause [Page] procureth thereunto, can notwithstanding be contented to leaue their natiue countrie and parents, in whom and by whom they haue bene bread and fostered, their wife and children, vnto whom they are by law and nature v­nited, their friendes and kinsfolke at whose handes they are to receiue counsell and comfort, and in straung coun­tries to consume that their liuelihood and substaunce, which them selues lyuing, might with ioye possesse, and deade, their posteritie shoulde by law inherit.

Being onely caried away, with a fonde desire to vew vnknowen nations, and curious monumentes, setting forwardes in iollytie, but sayling forth in ieoperdie, launching out in their ruffes, but hayling in, in their ragges: yea they are ignoraunt, that when after this order they fraught the ship with their wealthe, they vn­ballace their heades of wit, exchanging their warme gownes for colde iackes, their softe pillowes for harde couches, their sweete chambers for stinking cabbens, their braue walkes for the bleake hatches, their sweete wine for stale water, and their fine dainties for grosse diets: if sicknesse falleth (which seldome fayleth) Phisitions loue not the seas, and therefore phisicke not to be founde in shippes, as for Chyrurgions their skill is in woundes, but not in vrines, so that the poore pa­tient hath (perhaps) leaue to liue as longe as he may, and no man letteth him to die as soone as he will: where sometimes he findeth this friendshippe, that to ridde him of languour, in steade of aqua vitae, they minister aquam marinam, toplinge him ouer shipboorde, some life yet remaining, and then as the sea is his sepulchre, so per­chaunce a Rascals purse is his treasurie.

Neither doth so happie an ende as this happen to all, for sometimes the ship runneth a ground, and then both ship and man perisheth, sometimes it lighteth on a rorke, & then speede they no better, sometimes they are boorded by Pyrates, and then it hapneth them worser, sometimes [Page] through long tempest, victuals consume and they fa­mish: sometimes a storme driueth them perforce vppon the costes of their enemies, who either make them bond­slaues, or (which is rather to be wished) dispatch them with tormentes: sometimes are they cast ashoare, either in desertes where wilde beastes deuoure them, or else a­mong such people as make foode of their carcases: some­times the meeting byllowes doe cleane ouerwhelme them: sometimes the following waues doe quite ouer­turne them, and euermore a thinne boorde onely is be­twixt them and perishing: so that what with these, and many such lamentable accidents, are they continually endaungered, the feare much more tormenting, then the death it selfe would be grieuous.

And yet (forsoth) all these notwithstanding, some in a brauerie must saile vnto Mymphis, there to vewe the Piramides: some vnto Babilon, to see the walles of Semi­ramis: some vnto Caria, to gaze on Mansolus his tombe: some vnto Ephesus, to beholde the temple of Diana: some vnto the islle Pharos, to suruay the tower Pharos: some vnto Olympia, to looke one the yuorie image of Iupiter: some vnto Rhodes, to prie on the monsterous stature of Phoebus: some into one countrie and some into an other, and all in the ende returning (if euer they returne) more bitten with their expences, then bettered by their experience: ouermaistred by straunge manners, that could not be maisters of their owne affections.

For as they wilfully leaue their friendes and Coun­trie, so (which often hapneth) vnwittingly they forsake their gods and religion: if in Assiria they adored Adad and Adargatin, in Babilon Belus, and in Caldia Ori mas­d [...]: the same must worship in Aegypt Osyris, and Isis, in Persia Mithra, in Ausonia Faunus, in Mesopotamia, or Hebron a god called Iehoua: and as in these, so a­mongst ech sundrie people must a peculier god be adored: so that let them account of the rest to be but toyes, and [Page] trifles, yet this cannot be but a chooke-bone, and scruple to their consciences.

And as after this manner their religion is altered, so in like sort their manners proue alienated, being infor­ced, or rather easily intysed, to applie their behauiour according to the seuerall places of their present aboade: in Persia to reuell in brauerie, else no man for their companie: in Scythia to liue ouer begerly, else to proude for their societie: in Arabia to followe Venerie, else ex­cluded their familiaritie: to be short, in Parthia they must vomit with drinking, in Thratia liue by filchinge, in Lydia practise gaming, in Sibaria sleepe and idlenes, in Caspia crueltie and dissembling, &c. Neither is it an easie matter to pacifie their natiue gods (to such an extraor­dinarie care when it chaunceth) whose worshipping they haue thus estraunged, or to leaue those vyces which with such facilitie they haue learned: but rather it is to be doubted, that by the first they shall bee vnwillinglie cast behinde, whilest by the latter they are willingly o­uertaken: for vanitie which is sought for so eagerly, is not shaken off so easilie, ver [...]ue seeming painefull, and therefore reiected euen in the bloome, but vice pleasant, and therefore affected euen in the fruit.

Neither are these all the euils that growe by such trauels, for whereas this vnaduised Uente [...]or did tra­fique abroade by way of exchange, he retayleth at home for reddie coine, naie of a Chapmā he becommeth a Mar­chaunt, and in his owne countrie vseth outlandish vtte­rance, there to make returne of his far-fetched vices: And as one rottē sheepe infecteth be it neuer so great a flocke, so one new-fangled Traueler impoisoneth, be it neuer so many folke: and therefore it followeth, that such tra­ueling is harmefull to the Traueler him selfe, hurtful to others, and

Cap. 15.

ANd qd. the maister intercepting his wordes, wee haue enough and to much of your ands and yfs, vn­lesse marshalled after a better order: why howe nowe Belopares (so was his name) hast thou thy selfe confes­sed that the gallie saued thee from the gallowes, and yet wilt thou deliuer so badly of sea-farers? art thou a say­ler, and yet of saylers a scorner? and doe the seas bring thee thy liuing, and the same also breede thy misliking? trust me hadst thou hidden thy base petigree, yet shoulde we haue conceiued in our mindes, what wee had not re­ceiued in our eares, thy grosse error is much, but thine vnseemely termes more then thine errror.

Thou oughtest (Bellopares) to obserue, that as men are borne vnder diuerse plannets, so are they of diuerse dispositions, not all (ywis) tender harted Venerians, nor slowbacked Saturnists, but some are valiant minded Ioui­alists, & others wise imprising Mercurialists, &c. who with their vallour can make ech climate their con̄trie, or with their wisedom shift warely in euerie companie, or else (if y ^e worse fall) conquer crosse fortune with Magnanimitie.

Thou sayest they leaue great felicitie at home, and commit them selues to much miserie abroade, recko­ning that for a folly, which in deede is a rare vertue, for what greater vertue, then to dispise inchaunting plea­sures, I meane pompe and riches the nurses of sensua­litie, which be either got by wrong, spent by ryot, kept with care, consumed by enuie, or lost by casualties: so y ^t (if comparison should be made) I might proue that the seas are not more displeasing for perils, then the land perilous for pleasures, to attain, & maintain which pleasures what mischiefes may be numbred, that are not there attēpted? Men there for the most parte, are either idle and so vtter­ly vnprofitable, or else neither idle, nor yet well occu­pied: some fall to banquets with the appurtenaunces, & [Page] some to bickering with the inconueniences, one blazeth the borrowed beautie of some Circeis, another deformeth himselfe with fashions: the Usurer he fleeceth, if not flea­eth the gentleman▪ the gentleman he racketh, if not ouer­reacheth the farmer▪ the farmer he hourdeth, and so hoy­steth the markets: euery man shifteth for one, and that one sitteth on the skirts of some other, and himselfe in his own light: in fewe, the court wanteth not flatterers, nor the citie extortioners, the Priests auarice, nor the Laitie Ambition, the barres plaintes, nor the benches delayes, temples Non-residents, nor Theatres superattendants, schooles sectes, nor lawes quilli [...]s, Hermaphrodits main­tenance, nor Soldiours immunity, good men maligners, nor ill men bolsterers, Cormerāts crueltie nor Beggars impacience, the ritch mallice, nor the poore miserie, Bro­thels ribalds, nor Prisons offēdors, the Diuell work, nor the Gallowes vse, and yet for breuitie I omit a milion of mischiefes, whereof in the end, to their own preiudice, the Actors only feele the accidents.

Because therefore that Beautie bewitcheth none, but her busie inspectors, Couitousnes catcheth none, but such as are hopled with goldē fetters, Gluttonie entertaineth none but currant guests to his banquets, nor Pride pran­keth vp any but intruding courtiers, seing (I say) that by following the tract, we fall into the trappe, and by sen­ting the bait we swallow the bayne, haue not those (think you) reason? are not they happy? nay are not they to bee honoured? that eschewing these mollifying instigations to vanitie, and ensuing mortif [...]ing contemplations to eter­nitie, loth such securitie in braue cities and beautifull pa­laces, and like better a life solitarie, amidst the rough seas and wrestling surges: where their faire fingers are not (as occasion serueth) priuileged the foule cables, so that their hands being excercised with labours, their thoughts be not enueigled with ydle fantasies: and the rather for that oportunitie being taken awaye, no hope remaineth [Page] here to practise, what vainly they might purpose: but on the Seas, in a calme they vse mirth with modestie, in a storme they pray patiently, and at all times liue as if they should die hourely: and if any perill happen, then such pe­rill (say I) prepareth Saints to Heauen, whereas plea­sures (feele some) procure soules to hell.

And yet (Belopares) let vs not aggrauate the daunger otherwise then the case requireth, for as I cannot denye but that perils happen here sometime, so (if I shall speake no more then troth) I must say they chaunce but sieldom, for which of vs three, that haue bene sailers almost al our dayes, cannot alredie assure our selues to die loden with as many white heares, as commonlye the oldest Citizen that dieth, not so much as hauing vewed the Seas.

Thou also giuest out, that they must worship new gods, and forsake their old religion, but I say that wise trauai­lers passe by safe-conduct, & amongst their league friends, are from those matters exempted, either keepimg aloofe from where they doubt in these things to be sifted, or else being there rashly or violently ariued, matters maye bee auoided with such discretion, that without preiudice to their gods, or offence to their owne consciences, they may reuerently pray in a strange temple, to their known god whose altars are absent, and yet doe no reuerence at all to the vnknown god whose Image is present: for though there be necessitie that they kneele by the shrine, yet is it not necessarie that they kisse the Saint: in zeale, not in shewe consisteth deuotion, and a speedye returne is in suche cace the surest resistaunce: or if sifted beyond gods-forbod, then a godlye martyrdome is a glorious enlarge­ment.

And not in this only hast thou shot wide, but in the rest also missed the white, that is, in iudging so of trauelers, I say not Land-leapers (wherof in deede, there are not a few, which leaue their countrey, not for the number of vi­ces which there abound, but for the misliking of a fewe [Page] vertues, whiche they are neyther willing nor able to o­baye, such as sucke corruption as fast from the vitious, as the Toade poyson from the earth) but I meane, thou art to bee controuled, in iudging so absurdlye of men be­taking themselues to painfull trauels, eyther by their prowes and actiuitie (wanting the like occasion at home) to purchase renowne: by their skill, and venter to discouer obscure people, and places beneficiall to themselues, and commodious to their countries, or else vppon any other good, or the same intentions before remembered: yea were it no more, then to get experience, learne languages, or to auoyde idlenesse: for suche as are these men, doe not peize their prosperitie by the quantitie of the externall pleasures they forgo, but by the qualitie of the eternall vertues they pursue.

As for the sundry vices frequented in those countreys, by thee seuerally named, my aunswere is, that out of bit­ter shelles we haue sweete kernels, that in one and the same place, are had presidents both of vice and vertue, and one and the same man may be holpen or hindered by eyther example: the well disposed Trauailer doth learn to immitate in the good their commendable qualities, and to abhorre in the badd their condemnable maners, apply­ing both presidents, good, & bad, to one vertuous purpose.

More might I say (Belopares) and more would I say, were it not that I know the lawdable thing to be of suffi­ciency ynough, not only to contend, but also to defend it self, against al vituperating detractions whatsoeuer: and therfore I conclude, Such a Trauailer is wel aduised at his going out, well amended at his returning home, profi­table to himself, not preiudicial to others, but well meri­ting of all.

Nay, qd. the Pilot (vndertaking to bee a stickler in the strife) no more of this matter, ynough is as good as a feast, and too much of one thing, is good for nothing: here is a businesse (in deede) as if all the [...] [Page] nothing but swallowing whirlepooles, and all the shoare nothing but consuming whirlewinds.

But might I moderate your contention, you shoulde de­uide this sentence betwixt you, that neither sea nor shoare are lesse perilous the one than the other, and yet neyther of both dampnifying farther than is permitted by ineui­table Destinie, or more truly the Giuer & Guider of de­stinies, who hauing made both land, seas, and all therein, and with them vs, hath (no doubte) reserued to himselfe y ^e prerogatiue of a Creator, ouer his creatures, to dispose of all things after his owne pleasure: neither do I thinke there is any necessitie that the trauailer, or any other vi­olently become vitious, except the same volentarily de­sist to be vertuous.

Neuerthelesse I dare not be curious in these contin­gents, that cannot yield any absolute reason of the mem­bers, motions, and sences which I dayly carrie about me in mine own body, neither yet of thinges inferiour to my self, as why the Adamant draweth yron, and letteth lie a Feather, with a thousand such like: only let it suffise that we receiue, and receauing, let vs be thankfull to the gods that are the giuers, and wholy to their significat and se­crete willes referre all our actions: least by being ouer-curious, from the Moone we fal into the mire, and not on­ly loose our labour, but for presumption be punished with Prometheus. It shall be lesse necessarie that wee bee well learned, then that we haue well liued, and he knoweth y­nough, that knoweth himself not to know any thing: and therefore (balking such laborinths) suffer me, I pray you, to cut of your arguments with a familiar example or two not much impertinent to this your present controuersie, whereof I my selfe haue bene no small part, and wherein (perhaps) mine experiēce may more preuaile then al your arguments.

Cap. 16.

WHilste I was yet a lad and kepte in India with my fa­ther, I chanced to wander into a great desart not far from home, where childishly colting vp and downe, on a sudden a terrible Lionesse had caught mee betwixte her pawes: well might I crie out for helpe, but not any crea­ture was in way to heare.

The Lyonesse hauing whelpes in a denne, not farre from the place where she had thus founde me, & minding (belike) to haue made a merie banquet amongst her yong diuels, hayled mee apace with her churlishe Clawes, (wherewithall she pinched me shrewdly) towards her [...]enne.

But see the chaunce, an other fierce Lyonesse hap­ [...] to range that way, who meeting betwixt that and home, with my boistrous hostesse and me her bloody guest, presuming at the least wise to be a partner, if not a sole possessor of so delicate a boo [...]y, began to catch at my taile, thinking so by main force to haue recouered me out of the others clawes: but my firste Customer loth to forgo her cariage, one while standing vpon me, and an other while trauersing rounde about me, rescued me a long time by that meanes.

In the end eyther of them being so much the more ea­ger, by how much they both suffered for foode, began so fiercely to assaile eche other, that through earnestnesse of fighting, they had withdrawne themselues from me, a great distaunce of grounde: I seeing that, and (as yong as I was, not letting slip that aduantage, feare ma­king me forget how pitifully I was wounded) did start vp in a trise, and was gone in a turne, neuer daring to looke behind mee, vntill I had gotten my Fathers house ouer myne head, leauing the two Lyons miserably tugging and tearing one an other, eyther of them purposing to [Page] haue deuoured me, whilst I (thankefully be it spoken) had thus happily deceaued them both: of which hard escape, these scarres (he shewed them scarres) will be during my life, mindfull tokens.

Thus haue you heard how strangely my life was pre­serued on the land, and now shall you heare how miracu­lously I escaped death on the seas.

Cap. 17.

THe first, and the worst voyage that euer I made was into Cicyona, to shew the horrors whereof, words will rather seeme deficile, than matter defectiue.

Three dayes we sayled with a fauourable winde, but on the fourth, arose as it were a foggie miste from out th [...] Seas, anon the blacknesse of the skie might not be seene for the darkenesse of the ayre: dreadfull flashes of light­ning seemed to haue fyred the Seas, terrible vollies of Thunder threatned the shaking of y ^t heauēs, & sundering of the earth, shewres of raine poured downe, as if there should haue ben a second general Inundation, the roring winds skuffle so boisterously from ech corner as if Boreas, Auster, Zephirus, and Eurus had bene at ods within them­selues, or at one againe vs: and our selues wretches were at our wits end, neither seeing for the darke, nor hearing for the dinne how any thing should be amended, & yet too too well knew we that euery thing was amisse.

One while the ship mounteth so high, that scarcely we discerne the hollow waues from aloft, an other while it sincketh so low that hardly▪ we descrie the ouer-pearing Billowes from beneath▪ & though we did account it mid­day by course of the time, yet might we compare it to midnight by occasion of the storme: what shall I say? not one of vs knew what to do, and yet euery man was doing something: one plieth the pompe vntill for wearinesse he fainteth, another ladeth out water vntill for weakenesse [Page] he falleth, this mā (in vaine) repaireth the cracking tack­lings, that man (at an aduenture) rēteth down the sailes, some poure forth their prayers, some vnpatiently torment their own persons, and some vow sweete insence and ob­lations, the married man he giueth a pitifull farewell to his absent wife and children, the batcheler nameth his pa­rēts, friends, & whom he best loueth, here stādeth one fast clinging to a loose boord, there another cleane stripped to abide his chance, and euery mā disorderly did that thing, wherevnto the extremitie of his passion did presently di­rect him.

Diuers daies together were we thus continally tossed, hauing by chaunce, sea-roome at will, but at the last our ship being driuen perforce vpon a shallow, stacke so fast that the only helpe remaining was to vnballance it: the Gold, Iewels, pretious stuffe and Treasure then cast in­to the Seas, as it was much, so was it not to be valued: but to tell you to whome the same appertained, and to what vse they should haue bene imployed, requireth ouer long a discourse for this time, the which hereafter at the like leasure you shall also vnderstand.

Unvaluable (as I sayd) was the Treasure then floung ouer-boorde, more than sufficient to haue ransomed a king from the captiuitie of his foes, but nothing at all helping to redeeme vs from the crueltie of the Seas: yet mighte we haue gotten our ship afloate with that cost, we should haue thought our selues to haue wone by our losse: but (alas) that not sufficing, we were also constrained to cast ouer-boord our prouigion of victuals: and so getting at length into the deepe, our ship that now wanted her full Ballace, was a freshe in farre worser sorte than before, tossed amongste the Waues with the blustring Tem­pest: the whiche was so extreme, and lasted so long, that (in effect) wee rested vtterly hopelesse euer to attaine lande: & the rather, for that through fasting and feeblenes, we had small vse or none at all of our fainting limmes: [Page] yet life being a sweete thing, and hunger a sharpe sauce, we fead vpon whatsoeuer beast we then found aboord: and afterwards the pitch from the cables, the leather from our shoes▪ yea more homlier matters than I may reuerentlye speake of, we made food for our pining carcases: but these also decayed, the storme continued, & famine increased.

What might we now do? foode we had none, yet like­ly to famish: labour we could not, yet resting should pe­rish: die we might not, yet liuing did languish: neuer wer men wrapped in more miserie, or distressed so vnmeasu­rably. This (alas) is greeuous ynough that you haue heard, but harder was our hap than thus.

Whilst we stoode rufullye gazing one vppon an other, more like to ghosts departed, than men liuing, our good Generall Menophis, a noble Duke and victorious Cap­tain, vnder whose fortunate conduct we had diuers times before preuailed in many a hot Encounter, being now [...] of an vnhappie Embassage frō India into Cicyona, looking as ghost-like as any other, and supporting his weake bo­dy with a shorte Iauilin pight in the middle of the Hat­ [...]hes, spake to vs as followeth.

Cap. 18.

WEre it so (my euermore couragious, but now comfort­lesse companiōs) that we once again were in y ^e cham­pion fields of India, enclosed with the warlike bands of Se­miramis though fiue times doubled, yet would I put you in hope either to march after them in a second pursuite, or at the least to make from them the first escape: but (alas) small is the councel that I am now able to giue, yet som­what the comfort that therby you may gaine, but no con­quest at al is here to be got, knowing that to intreate, or threaten the churlish surges, were more than Follie.

Onely giue me leaue in this my last, I say my last and vnaccustomed exhortation, to preuaile, and then assure [Page] your selues, that if this aged carcase of mine sufficiently instructed not to feare death, to be solde into perpetuall bondage, or to suffer death it selfe might be in ought a­vaileable to you, I would account such bondage a free­dome, and such death a flea-biting: for how I haue bene, & am affectioned towards you, may well appeare in this, that I a Duke by birth, and your General by assignmēt, was notwithstanding the first, before the meanest here that did want to eate, & not the last of this company that did feele the famine: and yet were you eased of this mi­serie, I should not be impatient of much more sorrowe.

Listen therefore I say, how I your careful Captaine, not occasioned nowe (as often times heretofore) to in­struct you how and in what manner you ought to fight, am at this time (after a far differing sort) to admonishe you, how and in what manner you are to die.

It either needes not, or bootes not, to be offended with Fortune, that can be no other then mutable by name and nature, neither is Fortune, whom it pleaseth the irreligious people to intitle a blinde Goddesse, any other in deede, then a by-name drawne from the Origi­nals, and Euents of our mortall actions: but it is the vn­doubted gods thēselues whom we haue by some meanes vnaduisedly offended, it is they that punish, and them must we pacifie, as those of whose aide we should neuer dispaire: for though persecution procureth a death to the bodie, yet a conscience dispairing assureth death to the soule: miserable is distresse, more miserable distrust, but most miserable then to feare, when we cannot hope.

Neuerthelesse, let vs not make our case so desperate, but that (whatsoeuer shall betyde vs, life or death) we laie hold-fast on patience, the onely touch-stone of vertue, being pleasure vnto paine, comfort to correction, wealth vnto want, and death vnto death, vanquishing altogether with suffring and not with striuing, then which is no­thing more victorious, no not death it selfe: for who are [Page] those that death conquereth? euen such fooles as dreade him, and vnto whom the onely remembraunce of death is an horrour, such (I say) as willingly become Ghostes, whilst they feare their graues, fearing more in sence then they may feele in substance, and not thinking their paine will be either not great, or not long.

What shoulde be the cause, that men hauing Nature their vndoubted Author, Reason their assure [...] Instructor, & Experience their continuall Perswader, should neuer­theles or euer death commeth, little better then die through the onely feare they conceiue of death? vnles do­ting to much on their wealth, which they are loth to leaue, or else hoping to little of the mercifull gods, who then forgiue an ill life, when they find a good ende: with whom it shalbe neuer to late too shake hāds, as esteeming whatsoeuer is done wel enough, to be done soone ynough.

Yea the rather (my louing companions) haue we no cause to dreade death, or wish life, that are to die at the appointment of the gods, and not by the iudgement of men: for to the Person worthely condemned, death is a double death, it being farre more miserable to deserue it, then to suffer it: and yet though it be in the power of men, to iudge men, (which I also thinke to happen but at sufferance of the gods) Nature doth assure death vnto al, not graunting to any one his life by pattent, but at pleasure: and that in such sorte, that not the wysest man lyuing can say, there, then, or thus I shall die, and yet sure he is that die he shall.

Seeing therefore (my good friendes) that death is so certaine, as nothing more sure, and the order of his comming so vnsure, as nothing lesse certaine, and that an honest death is the goale of our liues, howe happie are we (if we could conceiue of our happinesse) that shall die with such fauourable opportunitie of repentance? well deseruing of our countrie, lamented for of our friendes, not laughed at of our fooes, yea then when life is yrke­not [Page] some vnto vs: & that not on Ieobets, as do Malefactors: not in Prisons, as doe Captiues: not in Corners, as doe Cowardes: not in Quarrels, as doe Cutters: not in Chaines, in our enemies Triumphes: neither yet sud­denly, then which no death is more dreadfull: but in a ship which doth argue vs venterous: in the Seas, not to be subdued by Cōquerours: in our Prince his affaires, as loyall subiectes: with famine, which confoundeth Mō ­sters: with fame of former prowesse, and by prayer, which shall reuiue vs.

What can we wish more of the gods, or what should I say more to you, whose deliuerie is not desperat, but euē to sence vnpossible, and vnto whom (forlorne Soules) death the ende of all wretchednesse, ought especialy to be welcome? Certes no more remaineth, but to intreate you (whom henceforth I shall neuer more exhort) to be patient without grudging, penitent without wauering, prepared without dispayring, dying to the flesh, and ly­uing to your soules, yea lastly, remember I beseech you, that we are no sooner borne into the worlde, but that wee liue to die from the world, & therfore ought rather to loue whether we must necessarily, then from whence we must of necessitie. Thus not able to comfort you as I woulde, but willingly to counsell you as I may, no more resteth but that I wish the continuance of so grieuous a life, to haue deliueraunce by a godly death.

This said, y ^e noble Duke turneth his face, & we might perceiue how the teares trilled down his cheeks: at sight wherof, we that did alwaies reuerēce him for his Graui­ty, obay him for his Authority, loue him for his Lenity, & honour him for his Liberality, could not but for cōpanie weepe.

Cap. 19.

JMmediatlie as he had deliuered such his exhortation, one of our weake fellow souldiers suddenly fainteth, [Page] falleth downe and dyeth: but loe, an horrible thing (yet considering that hunger breaketh stone-walles, and ne­cessitie suffreth no restraint at that time to be tollerated in vs) no sooner was the breath out of the miserable mā his bodie, but that stripping him out of his cloathes, like famished dogges, euerie of vs rent some one peece of his starued carcase: wherupō we fed as of such delicate fare, that no gold might haue bought the smalest portion ther­of: and so pleasant seemed this vnnatural refection, that we (erwhile at point, euerie man to haue tyred vppon his owne flesh) did nowe (as crowes the carren) watch the like oportunitie in our fellowes: growing in the end ge­nerally to this conclusiō, that ech day Lots should be cast and he vpon whom it so lighted, suffer such gentle death as him selfe would chuse, if not as we should deuise, and his bodie to be equally deuided amongst the Suruiuors: neither would Duke Menophis our good generall, bee exempted out of this deathfull Lotterie.

Diuerse dayes were past, & diuerse Martyred soules had performed this harde Composition: in the ende the lot fell to me, so that die I shoulde, and (in good sooth) die I would, neither did any of vs all desire to haue liued: being perswaded either to perish (and that shortly) in the drenching waues, or by this casuall crueltie, or else in the ende by famine: and (which was not the least of our griefes) who could willingly abide, to see the butchered bodies of their deare friendes, before their eyes, & whilst the flesh yet panted, to be mangled into smale gobbits, & dealt about the blooddie ship for the others to feede vpon? So that therfore, with greater patience then I now liue I then prepared to die, mine hungry companions in the meane while, as eagarly whetting their stomackes on their teath.

Being almost at point to haue giuen my watchworde, to him, that standing at my backe, should haue smitten of mine head, euen at that verie instant, a mightie Byllowe [Page] mounting vp into the ship, had almost ouercouered the hatches with water, so that the whole companie (the ship being now in great danger) were faine to leaue me at my prayers, and I also to leaue praying, and all at once to fall to their businesse.

In which meane time, a dapper Lad of mine, and as louing a boy as might serue any mā, perceiuing y ^e storme somewhat to decrease, and the thicke clowdes beginning to breake, had (of his owne accord) clymed the Mast, frō whence, or euer breathing time serued againe to haue falne in hād with me, the finishing of whose life they pur­posed to haue made their next worke, the boy suddenly crieth: Land, land, land, reioyse my heartes I discrie Land: but hearing such newes it was needelesse to bid vs reioise, in my purse I had a round summe which I gaue y ^e boy for his tidings, & ech of vs rewarded him boūtifully.

By this time were the Seas iolyly calme, & the skyes perfitly cleare, wherefore (as it stoode vs vpon) taking time whilest time serued, and as well as we might sup­plying our brooken tacklings, we [...]are the shi [...]tes from of our backes, to patch vp our ragged sayles, and clapping on as manie as our ship might beare, a merry winde (contrary to al hope) did shortly bring vs a shoare: though not in the same place where we shoulde haue arriued, yet in such a place wheras we were cōfortably releeued. Thus as you may see, Land, Seas, & our selues are sub­iect to one and the same God, and not to Chaunce.

THe three sorrowfull watchmen, sorrowfull I say be­cause not a litle greeued at the absence of the two bre­thren, hauing with this & such like talke driuen out the night, when the morning Starre had a prittie while ap­peared, brake vp their watch: and anon Atys and Abyna­dos hallow frō the shoare, who being made ou [...] vnto with the Boate were merily receiued aboorde: Where report of new matters was diuersly handled, & occasion of more straung aduentures (as orderly doth follow) was offred.

Cap. 20.

HAuing thus brought Atys, and Abinados from the Castle to the ship, being brauely vnder saile, well furtheed with a smooth dā ­gerles Sea, & a gentle whisling wind: & when the two brethren had recounted al they had serue, & the three watchmen the effect of that they had sayed: Belopa­res did then challeng the Pilot of his last-nights promise, which was to declare the then propertie, and purposed imploiment of those riches, in that vnlucky viage (as be­fore remembred) cast ouerboorde.

In deed (answered the Pilot) I assumed such a matter, & am redy to requite me of that promise, & now you shall haue it as my selfe did receiue it, aswell from the eye as the eare, and thus it was.

In the beginning of King Selchim his raigne, cha [...]ced great warres betweene him & the Indians, but in the ende Selchim preuailing, receiuied in hostage Staurobates the King of Jndia his only son: this lustie yong prince during his aboad in the court of Cyciona, became intierly enamo­red on Pheone, a gallant & beautifull Lady, & sister to King Selchim: who also with equall loue, subiected her li­bertie to his liking.

When this sweete passion long time, had mutually in­creased [Page] betwixt them, & y ^t it was certified to Staurobates, y ^t his father was dead, & that the Jndians attended his com­ming & Coronation: Staurobates did both easily obtaine a returne into his countrie, and withall King Selchim his glad consent, to match with Pheone.

But the yong Louers not esteeming it sufficient, so­lemnly to haue plighted their faithes ech to other, did also secretly bind vp y ^e bargaine, with a nights lodging: either of both then seuerally receiuing, and deliuering two such Paunes, as neither of both might after possibly redeeme.

Now when loue had caused Staurobates long to linger in Cicyona, and that his vrgent affaires called him fast a­way, he sorrowfully taking his leaue of Pheone, departed with this promise, that before a certaine time (soone after following) were expired, he would sende shippes to waffe her into India: vowing that nothing except death, should hinder that his resolution, no nor death it selfe, but that by the time prefixed, newes of such hinderance should be re­turned: & so taking her a Iewel from off his finger, & whi­spering certaine wordes in her eare he tooke ship, the one gasing towards the shoare, & the other after the sayles, so long as shoare or sayles might be discried.

Staurobates at his home comming, found his country inuaded by y ^e armipotent Virago S [...]miramis, whom (which neuer hapned her else-where) he incountred, wounded, & lastly chased her mighty troupes frō out his Territories. wholy deliuering himselfe in a short time of y ^e Assirians.

Scarcely was the armour cold from of his backe, and the Scepter warme in his hād, but that (remembring his promise) he dispatched the before named Duke Menophis to Cicyona, from thence to safecōduct his betrothed Lady: sending by him great store of treasure, part whereof pre­sents for King Selchim, part gifts for diuerse of his Nobi­lity, & the residue for the honorable furnishing of Pheone.

But by that time the warres at home were appeased, and (as you haue heard) our daungerous sailing auoided, [Page] and after so long famishment and bad diet, our selues in health and strength recouered, the time before appointed on was expired, and yet of all this while Pheone hearde no tidings from Staurobates: wheresoeuer supposing y ^t he had ben vnmindful of his promise, or at y ^e least purposed to giue her the slip, it is said, she fel into these Exclamatiōs.

Cap. 21.

ANd is there no remedy vnfortunate, foolish, & forsa­ken wench but that thou must answere so deere an in­terest, for the cheape loue of his so momentarie loue? must it follow of necessity, because thou wert credulēt, that he therfore must be inconstant? is such the euent of his lamē ­table lookes, smooth words, and often othes? ah Stauroba­tes, Staurobates, who would haue thought so youthfull a Leacher, could haue coūterfaited so artificially a Louer? but I perceiue (alas, to late I perceiue) that men make not their false hearts priuie to that which their faire ton­gues seeme rufully to pleade: & therfore nature hath left our weake sex in most wretched condition, suffring vs o­uer-feruently to loue, and giuing it to men euen kindly to chaung, making vs as wyers for their wresting, waxe for their working, and fooles for their flouting.

Howbeit before they obtaine, then we, who but we, & onely we are Idols worthy their sacrifices? they plie vs with pitifull epistles, they prouoke vs with premedita­ted eloquence, they attyre them by the booke, & speake not but in print: what haue we they praise not? nay, what lacke we praise-worthy they faine not? why our gloues, yea our slippers, nay the verie earth wheruppon we then tread hath (say they) vertue, or else (know we) they flatter: a simple kisse on our hāds, is thē restoritiue to ther harts: but (good gods) for a louers fee at our lips, they daunce in the Aire, they cast down their Gaūtlets, they couch their Speares, they spur their Steedes, they enter y ^e Lists, yea [Page] we rather want wherein to imploy their labours, than they in what to please their Ladies. But, Dissemblers, though they leuel at our parsōs, they shoot at our portiōs.

And be it so that they preuaile, then whether they loue still as doe a few, a little as doe many, or not at all as doe most, what other reckoning can we cast-aways make? but that the first day of their recouery, is y ^e last date of our li­bertie: that the ielous eyes of the hote louer shall be ouer attendant, the emperious mind of the luke-warme ask too much attendaunce, and the third sort (hauing deceaued) shall leaue vs to our Cares, as Rauens hauing disclosed▪ do their young to the Aire: sauing that Rauens after a while returne as reuoked by loue, where these would ne­uer retaine vs at all, if not resisted by law. Thus play they Foxes, and we proue flattered: they Scorpions, and we stinged: they Diuels, and we tempted: but who wor­ser than thou Staurobates? and yet wert thou present (changing Churle) I know thou couldst aleage no cause of such strangenesse, nor I for any crime of mine (except perhaps for trusting thee too much) be iustly chalenged: as for my beautie, had it bene somtimes baser, my fortune had bene at this time farre better. Ah Pheone, desolate Pheone, how mayst thou wind thy selfe out of these euils, or finde redresse for such iniuries? complaine to thy bro­ther? why, admit by warre he enforce Staurobates to wed thee? yet no war can enforse Staurobates to loue thee, and then much better martired, so then maried: & shouldst thou resolue (which thine ouermuch folly will not suffer) to ac­cept his disloialtie as an acquittance of all loue, yet so deepe is he in thine hart, that for his losse thou couldst not but languish: and more than so (and too much by so much) who then should father the fruit of thy growing wombe? but only Staurobates, whome thou rash wanton, ouer cre­dulent of vowes, didst entertain simply as an husband, but not, as the heauens can witnesse, willingly as an adulte­rer: howbeit through this thy beastly foolishnesse, were [Page] the crime apparant, as it may not be here concealed, my selfe am shamed, mine Honour stained, and my death in law deserued.

What doth it (alas) aduauntage me now, to haue ben Daughter to the famous King Aegialeus? the Sister of Selchim, or that my beautie, education, and entertainment haue heretofore allured mightie Kinges Wooers, wor­thy personages Suters, and the Worlde wonderers? that must now liue obscurely (the Gods wot where, and how poorely) the most wretched Relict of so notorious a Dissembler, or else die a shamefull death for my violated chastitie: O well had I bene if happily interred, or at least wise, by so infamous an Epitaph not suruiued.

But what beate I the ayre with succes [...]esse wordes▪ Why doe I not rather conuay my selfe into India, where (perhaps) when I shall manifest vnto Staurobates the di­stresse wherein I am here left, when I shall humbly pro­strate my selfe at his feete, whome I neuer wittinglye of­fended, when he shall beholde the teares continually gu­shing from out those eyes which once he loued, when my tongue shall discourse a lamentable tale, and my sorrow­full gestures affirme the same to be credible, when I shal charge him with his promises and vowes, and lastly, whē I shall disclose (my follie, but his fault) my great belly, Then (whiche I shall account amends for all wronges) Loue, Pitie, Feare, or Shame shall againe winne, for whom I now wish.

But (foole) what wordes are these? wilte thou herein also bewray thine error? troth it is (Pheone) the gods ac­cept the humble complaints of oppressed soules, but Stau­robates not therefore will conferre with poore Suters: the Gods be mercifull, but he maiestical, and ouer-proud a Phisition to minister vnto so meane a Patient: doth he not now disdaine of thee that art his equall? and shall he not then as a Runagate forbid thee his presence, as fran­tike commaund thee to scilence, as offensiue enioyne [Page] thee punishment, or as combersome adiudge thee death?

O succourlesse estate of mine. O worlde not loued but for my wombe, and it the Mappe of al my sorrowes, for which neuerthelesse and not else I yet liue, as expecting a comfortable childe, in place of so vnconstant a Father. And yet, Staurobates, thou canst not worke to Pheone such ill, but that Pheone wisheth vnto thee so well as not for her greatest wrongs, to craue the meanest reuēge, yea (to pleasure thee yet more) as my loue is alreadie remote frō thine heart, so of my person I henceforth deliuer thine eyes: O vnkinde Staurobates, ah vnhalowed Pheone.

With such like passions as these being tormented with ielosie, though in deede not threatned any such ieoberdie, did Pheone a while driue forth the time: vntil in the end, not able any longer to hide that swelling sicknesse, which she knew to be other than a Tympany, one morning be­times, she secretly windeth her selfe from out the Court in disguised apparel, not to be recouered by any searche, or heard of by any inquirie.

After which her departure, within lesse than a seuen-night Duke Menophis and we ariue at Cicyona: but in­telligence being there had of this euill newes, making short tariance there, we resaile (with sorrow ynough) to India and certifie to Staurobates our euill aduentures on the seas, with the heauie tidings of Pheone her missing.

Staurobates, who had pitifully heard the report of our mishaps, and tooke most patiently the losse of his so great treasure, hearing now such newes of her whom he loued as his own life, fetching pitifull sighes, and eftsoones fal­ling into perilous sownes, could hardly be reuiued, wan­ting little but that he had presently died: and long after, remained at point vtterly to haue forsworne wiuing, by reason that Fortune had euen then so awkly adnihilated his Commencing, whē hauing already his Grace, he ac­counted himselfe a Graduate.

Cap. 22.

BUt what is it that time doth not determine, or at least wise diminish? diuers yeares after (he yet continuing a broken batchiler) when his pensiuenes was grown from a wound to a skarre, he ariued at Cicyona, there familiarly to visite his old friend, and brother in law that might haue bene King Selchim, who gladly gaue him entertainment answerable to his magnificence.

During the time of Staurobates his now abode in Cicy­ona, Marpissa King Selchim his only daughter and heire, a perfit blossome of beautie, a matchlesse Paragō for per­sonage, perfected by Nature, and pullished by Nurture, and one whome Enuie it selfe could not in any wise im­peach, occcupied so great a portion of now more hers than his own hart, that Pheone was thē diszeased, but Mar­pissa seazed, the Aunt dismissed, but the Niece admitted, the one lacked, but the other loued.

Staurobates therefore, firste mouing Selchim of this match, and there preuailing, did secondlye make loue to Marpissa, but there fayled: howbeit like a wilie wenche, she finely smootheth him off with such delatorie answers, that cunningly she leaueth her selfe at liberty, and giueth to him neuerthelesse cause to play on the bridle, for hee assured himselfe of nothing more, than that he had gotten a wife, when she perswaded herselfe of nothing lesse, then to take him for husband.

There was at that time in the Court, attendaunt vpon a young Duke, which Duke had bene, in vaine, a long su­ter to the Princesse, one Crisippus, knowne to be no other than a ritche Marchants sonne of the same Citie where the Court than lay, but yet a youthful Gallant, and a bra­uing Courtier: he at the commaundement, and in the be­halfe of the Duke his maister, vsed often repaire to Mar­pissa, and had much conference with her as touching the [Page] same Duke his loue. But shee careleslye neglecting the curteous proffers of the master, did contemplatiuely re­spect the comly personage of the man, who being scarce­ly xviii. winters old, both for actiuitie, maners, and well making, was (at y ^e least wise in her eye) not second to any.

This Crisippus, I say, this affiansed factor, & fauoured Soliciter, was the only sleping Endimion secretly kissed of Phoebe, & (so far-forth as her loue wanting a second con­sent, might extend it selfe) to Galatea an Acis, to Venus an Adonis, and to Marpissa the first of her loue, or the last of her life. Wherfore after that she had with earnest & long endeuour sought to resist vndesistable loue, at the length taking courage boldly to persist, she entreth with her-self into these Arguments: What reason hast thou (Marpissa) to contend with Loue, that is both restlesse and vnreasona­ble, adding so to fire fewell? or what standest thou vppon these ouer-curious points, thy fathers displeasure, Crisip­pus his Pettigree, or thine own Modestie? when the first may be pacified, or else by meanes auoided, for from whom we are deriued by birth, to thē what can we more returne than reuerent mindes? but to whome wee are driuen by loue, from thē what may we lesse with-hold than our own parsōs? yea Marpissa thou maist also reuerēce as a daugh­ter, and loue as a wife, and yet the later not preiudicial to the first. Secondly, and as concerning Crisippus his Pet­tigree, or Pouertie, what is that to be respected? seeing thou doest delight in his parsonage, not descant of his pa­rentage, whose vertue doth counteruaile the want of No­bilitie: for better the man lacking wealth, then wealth lacking the man. Thirdly, what shouldest thou bee more nise than wise? that art therefore to be pardoned because in loue, and who is ignorant that loue respecteth no per­sons? for howsoeuer in all other things hapneth a superi­oritie, yet Nature that hath giuen to vs alone Birth, one Breath, and one Death, in this one only thing remaineth vncorrupt, and is to all alike indifferent, making Phoebus [Page] a Sheapheard, and Hercules a Cot-queane: but admit the Discord, yet mariage maketh the Concord.

Mariage (qd. I) yea but all the craft in catching, and cunning in keeping: I marie Marpissa, this was sweetly spoken if faire words might win him, but Crisippus is no Pigeon to be taken with a beane, nor a child to be intised with a Ball, he may be perhaps a Louer, but not loue for losse, and will more esteeme a dowrie that is bountifull, than a Kings Daughter though beautifull. Alas Mar­pissa, what dowrie canst thou bring him? Ah, Death, if he be taken: Banishment, if he escape: and Pouertie, how­soeuer he speedeth? Wherfore if thou wilt loue him, then leane to loue him, but that (alas) will neuer be, except thou also leaue to liue. Nay, rather moue the question, and afterwards dispose of thy selfe according to his answere: they are more than miserable, that seeke a sword to perish on the point, before a salue to applie to their paine: the vexed parson that in most anguish, crieth out to be deliue­red of greefe, the same would not with the least violence, be then dispatched of life: speake Marpissa nowe, or else neuer speede, sue to him for loue, that perhaps would, but feares to attempt thee in the like: thou shalt, no doubt, ob­taine, he is neither discurteous, nor timerous, & so constāt a Partner shal the rather make him venterous of the pe­rill.

Cap. 23.

LVpus in fabula, labouring yet in these passions, she per­ceaued Crisippus dauncing attendance, about the pur­sute of the Duke his loue: whom (more for that shee had now a new plea of her own to plie, than vpon any will to heare the olde pleaded cause of his maister, the whiche she had already both in thought, & by word dismissed) she cal­leth into a withdrawing chamber, where giuing him in­tertainment more than vsuall, but yet no more than stood with modestie, they enter into this Dialogue.

[Page]

WHat newes Crisippus? My Lord your Ma­ster is (I hope) satisfied, and not offended, with the returne of my late aunswere: if then your hether Re­paire be not his Replie, but your owne preferment, giue me leaue to intrude my self a dealer in your demaund, and doubt not of my diligence to whomsoeuer, and for whatso­euer in your behalfe.

Neither is it possible, Madame, my Lord should be satisfyed, being so vnfortunate in your loue, or your Ladi­ship offensiue to him that only to you hath vowed all du­tie: as for my hether Repaire, it is humbly (as before) to prosecute his Succour, whom you may presently esteeme the very Substance of sorrow: and lastly, for the recept of such your so gratious offers, vnworthie Crisippus sayeth himselfe disabled, to measure part of that thankfulnesse to your Ladiships eare, whiche without all measure, is con­tained in his heart.

Few thankes may serue, where benefites are so small: but Crisippus as it would not hurt me to bee more amiable, so woulde it helpe the Duke to be lesse amo­rous.

As touching your Ladiship I aunswere, that to a Perfection a Supplie were needlesse, but as to my Lord I say, that perswasion, or disswasion were bootelesse: for so farre off is he from being cleare of that, which to all lo­uers is common, that thē he forceth most for you, when he heareth himselfe least fauoured of you: and yet to cou­ple vp at the losse, would, sayth he, argue an idle Huntes­man.

But to be still at losse is tedious hunting.

Yet hope of finding rebateth from suche tedious­nesse.

You speake in clowdes, Crisippus, how mean you that finding?

As doth my Father finde my Mother, sometimes at boord, sometimes in bed.

[Page]

A breefe construction, but all the better for Stau­robates thinking to find me so.

And this a bad comfort, and all the worser for my Lord threatned to loose you so.

Well, Suresby well, I perceaue were the case yours, you that are for an other so earnest, would bee for your selfe importunate.

What I coulde bee (Madame) that resteth, but what I should be that is euident, wiser (my thinks) then to runne on so sleeuelesse an errand, or prosecute so boote­lesse an action.

Yet euen now you maintained, that a man perse­uering in loue, may preuaile at the length.

Then did I argue for my Lord as a Louer, now doe I answere your Ladiship as Crisippus, who in loues May seeth included no end.

But in the same May is expected an ende: and in the Ebbe not to watche the Tyde, is to loose the Tyde through negligence.

But in the Ebbe, say I, suche a watchman maye swealt with heate, starue with colde, or tire with tariance: only he watcheth well that findeth the tide fit for his pas­sage.

If to trie the constancie of men we linger a while, is it not (thinke you) good policie?

Yes, if in that while, to kill me with languor you account it no bad victorie.

But should women consent lightly, their Louers would conceaue ouer lewdly.

But because they are Louers, therfore ignoraunt that coy wenches, are, for the most part, cunning wantōs.

As who would say, when men be wilfull in loue, women must then be witlesse in choise.

Wilfull fooles in-deede, are fayre Gamsters, pit­tifull Soldiours, & faithful Louers, and (vnder your La­diships correction bee it spoken) so wise in their choyse [Page] oftentimes are women, that whilst they desire to be woed, & disdained to be wone, it fareth with them as with Hob­byes, that turning taile to the Larke, make winge to the Dorre

Say (Crisippus) we be Hobbies, so you serue vs as Falkners, graunting vs to seaze, where we happen to sousse: as sweete a morsel ywis to Iuno (had their loue ben currant) was Ixion as Iupiter, and to Ioue, Io as Iuno, and the reason is, loue feeleth no lacke: howbeit such doinges make not to vs for documents: you speake of disdaine, but where I pray you, were constancie to anie, should we bee alike curteous to all? and (yet forsooth) if we remoue a­ny for comlinesse, we anon are rebuked for coynes: when (credit me Crisippus) in loue diuerse thinges may diuers­ly hinder, amongst which not alwaies Obstinacie, but sometimes and chiefly want of Oportunitie, for they that bandon the ball marke not euer the Chace: my selfe for example may (and perhaps doe) beare an especiall liking to some one man, but looke not (thinke you) my parents, and friendes to like or mislike of the match? yes Crisip­pus, put case your selfe might winne me without their Consent, yet I gesse it would greeue you so doungerously to conclude.

Be this coynes, or be it cōlmes, sure I am that loue it is not: for loue straineth curtesitie with friendes and parentes, shaketh handes with wealth and pleasures, yea it biddeth life and all farewell, loue (if loue it be in deede) is of such efficacie.

Tush Crisippus, you now talke of Apollo his laughter.

And why not Madam, of Apollo his loue? he with infinite others haue done the like: why my selfe, were I a louer would doe no lesse: but what better presi­dent then that of my Lorde? who presently is at point to performe fully asmuch, or might any thing be more then losse of breath, ready also for your loue to fulfil that more. [Page] If therfore not offending good manners, I might gesse in iest, at what I wish in earnest, I would leuell at my Lord to hit your Louer, that one especiall man I meane stan­ding (as is partly confessed) so highly in your Ladiships fauour, because then he, no man hath better deserued the good happe of so gracious a Lot, as is the prize of your Loue.

When Marpissa had thus priuely felt Crisippus his pul­ses, although not beating so amorously as shee did wishe, yet bringing oportunity to vtter what shee would, not o­mitting therefore so good an occasion she saith.

I cannot tell (Crisippus) whether I may thinke you Cauilous in threatning kindnes where none is, credulēt, in beleeuing what at no time was, or constant in pursu­ing, what shall neuer be: but me-thinkes your labours alredy lost in the Duke his behalf, might long since haue disswaded both him, & you from groping after a Shadow, as much more now, Staurobates being a Competitor, from gaping after a Substance: neuertheles not tyred with a dead effect you harpe still to a deaffe hope.

That I may therefore remoue such errors (besides that my father no longer ago then yeasterday last, promised me in marriage to Staurobates, which Banes also I meane to forbid) I swere by youder Sunne, I haue bene, am, and meane to bee so farre off from matching with the Duke, that hence-forth I protest neuer more to talke with him, or with any other soliciting his loue: wherfore (good Cri­sippus) cease to counsell him, or intreate me any further herein, & let him also suffer himselfe to digest this, a finall answere.

But Crisippus, although silēce (may you perhaps think) would be more seemely in a Maiden, yet because I am vr­ged by loue violently, by your demaunde willingly, and by posting occasion of necessitie, to direct you as it were by the hand to my heart, I will not in danger be daintie: but reueale to you the man, saide to haue subdued my li­berty. [Page] What should I more say? nay what might I with modesty lesse say, or at the least, suffer you to aime before I name? thē y ^t (here teares drowning her words, gaue a short pause to this y ^t foloweth (thy selfe) my deare Crisippus art that one whō I long time haue loued, do loue, & wil loue.

And if this thing seemeth ambiguous for likly-hoode, or strange for loue, then for further triall commaunde me, yea presently commaund me, for that the shortnes of the time promising an ouer-speedy marriage betwixt Stauro­bates, & me can suffer no long delay, to disrobe my selfe of this rich attire, & so disguised to follow thee wheresoeuer my Conductor.

Doubt not my sweete friend (I would I might aswell call thee husbande) but that making an easie escape from hence, we may liue as contentedly elswhere: & being law­full wedded (for that is the bounds of my loue) mutually haue fruition of loues delight, & that not in want, I being prouided of Iewels a light cariage worth aboundant of wealth, neither may they want that faithfully loue: much is it that I leaue, but much more would I loose, onely to win thee to my selfe: for Crisippus, from the first day that I viewed (God grant I may say, luckely viewed) thy face & personage, I wholy haue setled my selfe only thine own, wherefore neither scorne, nor feare to enioy what onely is thine, or at the least-wise, let her presently vnderstand thy pleasure, whose good, or badde dayes wholy consist on thy good, or bad answere.

The teares thus stopping her words, she wringeth his moist fist amorously betwixt her delicate hands, & hauing dried her eyes, thus proceedeth: if happely Crisippus, you finde ought of modestie escaping my tongue, impute the same to the integrity of loue, y ^e necessity of spedy dispatch, the answere of your own question, and to your owne late speech against coynesse. And so Maidenly bashfulnesse, hardly restraining a coniunction of lippes, shee endeth to speak, and beginneth againe to weepe

Cap. 24.

CRisippus, albeit he did palpably beholde, feele and heare this angelical Temptatrisse, and her sweete Incanta­tions, yet stoode he still like a headlesse flie, meruelously amased, and hardly parswading himselfe but that he had seene some vision, or in a dreame heard that melodious hermonie, or rather accounted by him (an vnpractised Songster) iarring discorde, as by his answere appeared: for feeling perfectly that he did wake and not sleepe, that he looked on her with open eyes, that had thus louingly laid open to him her heart, because he had neuer yet recei­ued prest-mony, or thought to haue marched after loues Onset, a beautifull blushing made him seeme more loue­ly, but his ignorance in loue to answere thus absurdly.

When Serpents (qd. he) but hisse, then no man so foolish as to trust them, but vntill women sting, few men so wise as to mistrust them: your grace (I knowe) expe­cteth an answere, and I feare more to offend rudely, then that your Ladiship will pardon redily.

Is it possible that you so beautifull a Ladie, the onely daughter and heire of a king, forsaking those personages, whom for their worthinesse in euery respect you might well fantesie, should forsake them, and your liberty, and betake you to me, that am (as you knowe) no more, if so much, then a poore gentleman, the sonne of a Marchant, whose wealth in his store-houses is more then his gentrie with the Heralds, and my countenance (such as it is) in the Court, more thē the coine he can leaue in his Coffers, with whom: you cannot liue but in exile, and danger? is it possible I say, you should so much embace your selfe, as to embrace so homely an husband as is Crisippus? no Ma­dam, no, Crisippus feareth he should clime to high, if Mar­pissa should f [...]l so low, or perhaps hath learned by others [...]osse, that a pleasant foe doth esily supplant.

[Page]Yet (pardon me Madam) I will not iudge, but that your Ladiship may intend the same loue, you outwardly pretend: which admitted, what else followeth? but that you prising so cheape your loue shold be ouergreat a Lo­ser, and I buying so daungerous abargaine a sorrowfull Gainer: for kings haue eyes that pearce into euerie Crā ­nie, eares that heare in euerie companie, and hands that stretch into euerie Countrie, in whose affaires but onely to aime, is little better then to holde the Wolfe by the eares, or to walke vpon right narrow Bridges, ouer most deepe Foordes,

Seeing therfore (Madam) that such loue would be so much losse to you, such danger to me, & so preiudiciall to vs both, let it suffise, that I humble euen the knees of mine heart, to acknowledge your so rare bountie, and vouchsafe the same to impetrate pardō, for denial of so vn­profitable proceedinges.

When Marpissa hearde him make this vnkinde Con­clusion, a bitter Acceptance (thought she) of so bountiful an Offer only replying with cutting sighes, and sha­king her mistempred head, as who should say, ah dessolat wentch I, & hard-hearted wreatch thou, she sorrowfully departed to her lodging, whether by the teares trickling from downe her eyes, she might haue bene tracted: leaue­ing Crisippus all alone in the same place, where they had thus talked of this euill hanselled loue: who seeing her thus suddenly gone, returned then to the Duke his lodg­ing, certifying to him the euill successe of his sute with Marpissa.

Well qd. the Duke (setting a good face on a bad mat­ter) what remedie but perforced patience? they that may not loue where they would, must leaue when they may: and for ought I see the losse woulde bee light, were the fondnesse of mine affection lesse, for it is commonly seene, that praying Haggardes, and peeuish women as they are caught when they woulde not, so they checke when they [Page] should not: Thus did he smooth Brag, & smite Beautie, when his thought might wel haue controuled his tongue, bidding Crisippus farewel, whom loue did thus welcom to his lodging.

Cap. 25.

HIs Pedantie (the weather being moiste) brought drie slippers to put on his feete, the Maister (his wits be­ing on wol-gathering) hauing more neede of warme car­chifes to binde on his head, the which was now become a hiue of bussing Bees, not standing as he thought, on his shoulders, but hanging by Geometrie: he knoweth not sweete yongling, what loue meaneth, & yet he loueth, he would not loue, and yet could not but loue, yea and that so feruently, that hauing acquainted himselfe but a small time with the Copesmate of loue, Solitarines, he might haue ben vsed in a Cōsistorie of louers in place of an Ano­thomie: being so much y ^e more wretched, by how much him self was y ^e Author of his own wretchednes▪ in forslowing goulden Oportunity, the smiling handmaide of Fortune.

But as loue did triumphe ouer Crisippus, so the same furie did tyrannyse ouer Marpissa, who (a tollerable fault in that sex) liued with as small felicitie, as shee loued vn­fortunatly: but yet not vtterly hopeles of better successe, she thought it labour not altogether lost, to finish that re­ply in written tables, at their last departure begone only by pitifull gestures: the which purporting many louing arguments, enterlaced also with some desperate conclusi­ons, were by her messenger deliuered to his perusing.

When Crisippus had (with ioy enough) viewed & re­ueiwed those plausable lines, he by the same messenger thus reanswered in, writing, her letters.

From this day forwardes, they enioyed the benefit of many amorous meetinges, and in conclusion, of their vn­suspected familiaritie proceeded a secret marriage.

Anon after the time drewe fast on, wherein a mar­riage should haue bene consummated betwixt Marpissa & king Staurobates: but she and Crisippus rather carelesse of their liues, then inconstant in their loues, fled together from the Court, more priuely, then prouidently as hap­ned: for long were they not absent but by & by missed, the Portes, Hauens, & whole Country being narrowly laide for their apprehēsiō: so that not able to flee far, y ^t were pur­sued so fast, they might not be more couertly hid then they were curiouslie sought, & in the ende as crookedly found.

[Page]When the two Loues were brought into the presence of the two kinges, Staurobates (sweating in a new chaffe, as cast in his second accompt) sendeth as fierce lookes at Crisippus that had so forstalled his mariage, as did Sel­chim a sterne countinaunce at Marpissa that had thus dis­obeied his meaning, who adding these following speches, proceeded also to a terrible sentence.

Cap. 26.

WHy suffer I the presence of thee so dishonest a child, by whose practise I am become so dishonoured a father? why haue I bene so carefull of thy wel-fare, that art so carelesse of thine owne preferment? were it not (thou impudent Strumpet) that I rather shunne to be noted of impacience, in giuing the bridle to my iust anger, then doubt to be charged of iniustice, in punishing so vniust a Trespasser, this heart of mine could redily consent, these handes willingly contriue, and these eyes g [...]adly beholde that thy carcasse (mine onely deede) deade bewelte­red in blood before my face, and trampled vppon with my feete: but liue harlot, I say liue yet a while, that hast alre­dy liued ouer long to me, & no lesse vnluckely to thine own selfe: that I am offended and thou the offender thou shalt anon feele, if (contrary to kinde) the deuowring wilde beastes in the desertes shall not shew more curtesie, then I iustly occasioned, pretend pittie.

Beleeue me, thy light lookes haue made me before now suspitious of thy loose life, as alwaies more fearefull to preuent y ^e danger y ^t might proceed of thy wāton gestures, thē careful to recouer thee of any thy sicknesses, esteeming it lesse difficile to incounter my opē enemies in battle, thē easie to countermaund the secret Assalāts of they beauty.

This feare is incident to carefull fathers, that are sped of such amorous daughters, for whom, and that or euer they are iudged marriageable, besides dowries more [Page] then easily disbursed, thankfully accepted, or profitably employed, must also be prouided husbands, least they (im­patient of tariaunce) procure vnto themselues Para­mours: yea rather than suche hast (with a vengeaunce) should be hindered by non-sufficiencie, the louing Pige­ons will first or grow in their Shooes, or walke on their Toes, or adde to their Yeares or subtract from Childish­nesse, or if yet disabled) suffer perhaps a large triall, be­fore a long suspition: better knowing to entertaine a Lo­uer at Thirteene, than to obay a Father at Thirtie. Let vs proffer a wealthie matche, and a man personable, the simpring Saintes will then, on Gods name, liue stil mai­dens, or haue change of excuses not to marrie, when anon after themselues fantasing or flattered of some Iack or Clinchpoupe (bag they first, or begge they after) must, in the Diuels name, marrie, or not liue patiently Maidens: thus their first and cheefe studie is husbandes, and their last, and least care huswiferie.

But (am [...]us Peate) seeing thou diddest refuse to be a Queene to Staurobates, and hast rather chosen to bee a Queane to Crisippus, whilste the one doth abhorre thy lightnesse, the other shall abie his liking. Wherefore my sentence is, that of thy d [...]ath the sauadge Monsters doe execution: yet to thee, before thou passe to this punishmēt, the heart of this Leacher thy Louer (a gifte, no doubte, more pretious than the price) shall be deliuered, that as liuing on lust, I cannot terme it loue, of two, framed one masse of wickednesse, so (perhaps) dead, the bowels of one Beast, to eyther heart maye afoorde one, and the same Tombe.

Then commaundeth he that Crisippus should be forth­with bound, and his heart (a present for Marpissa) to bee car [...]ed from out his body: When the afflicted Ladye, hardlye obtaining audience to vtter these fewe wordes, sayd.

Alas, my deare Crisippus, howe daintie a dowrie haste [Page] thou found my loue? how mercilesse a father in law hath thy wise giuen thee? I would the price of my life mighte purchase thy libertie: but (alas) I wish too wel, to obtain so well, let it therefore suffice for a poore comfort, that thy Marpissa is gladly thy deaths Companion.

Crisippus hearing these sweete speeches to proceede from her, that had the present Possession, and promised Reuersion of his hart, not being suffered to acquit words with words, did only manifest the integritie of his vnre­moueable loue, by often kissing the deadly Instrument, that should anon bereaue him his heart, promised to Mar­pissa as a present.

Cap. 27.

THe brute of this seuere sentence, thus passed vpon Cri­sippus and Marpissa, brought thether many pitifull be­holders to haue seene the threatned Tragedie. Amongst the rest, whilste this beautiful Couple prepare to offer vp their liues, as pledges of their constant loue, a very faire, and most comly woman, who heretofore had bene Nurse to Crisippus, and euer after vntill that day, had bene enter­tained in the seruice of the Marchantman his father, the teares aboundantly steeming from out her amiable eyes, in great anguish casteth her selfe at the feete of the two Kings, and sayth.

I [...] so be (mercifull, or mercilesse kings) you graunt vn­to me a sillie woman like libertie of speech, as you haue giuen cause of sorrow, then shal I commend your clemen­sie towards me, that cannot but condemne your crueltie towards these two, whose answering ages, combyned af­fections, agreeble complections, and what so else, & more then you know of gaining by equalitie loue, are in either so cōcurrant, as (in my iudgemēt) you might rather wish what is alreadie hapned, then withstād that which is now helpelesse.

[Page]But least I also swallow vp that in scilence, which vt­tered, may, perhaps, rebaite from their sorrowes, I shall now (as inforced therevnto) disclose long hidden secrets. You will mutter when I shall Affirme, but maruel when your selues cannot but Confirme, y ^t Crisippus may claime no lesse Nobilitie from his Progenitors, than Marpissa Honour by her Parentage, that he is an Husband not vn­worthie such a wife, that y ^e Issue (Selchim) of thy fathers child is not of more roial blood, nor y ^e Son (Staurobates) sproong from thy loines more noblier borne, you wil muse (I say) when your selues shall auouch this that I auarre: Wherefore let it not ought agrauate to his punishment, that Crisippus, ignorant of his right parents, acknowled­geth himselfe the sonne of a Marchant, or that from these homely paps of mine (lesse pleasing then in times passed) he hath sucked nourishment: but know Selchim, that he is the naturall sonne of Pheone thy neglected sister, shee the contracted wife of vnconstant Staurobates, he the vnnatu­rall father of condemned Crisippus, and my selfe ( Selchim, and Staurobates) the same Pheone whom (happily) either of you hath longer lost, than lacked, and the one of you (no doubt) longer lacked then loued, albeit, Staurobates, at thy departure, and at the deliuerie of this Ring, thy flattering tongue could then whisper: That mine absence should bee bitter, and the delay of my presence Death.

Now therefore, if the one of you will deale gratiouslye with his desolate Sister, & the other gently with his well deseruing Louer, & either of you naturally with your di­stressed Children, thē at the least, be to thē meere Stran­gers, rather than so mercilesse Parents: yea remember (Staurobates) thou mayst not retaine Marpissa but by lust, Pheone being alreadie intertained thine owne by Lawe, whose life ought to stand betwixt thee, and a Bigamus.

By this time, and whilst she was yet speaking, Stauro­bates hauing perfectly fixed in the eyes of his memorie, the well knowne face and countinaunce of the amiable [Page] Oratrisse, giuing a signe to the Tormentors for staye of Execution, earnestly imbrased the Heroicall Nurse, say­ing: Well mayst thou deuine of the prosperous successe of thy demaund, when no creature liuing can be so welcome to this place, as art thou the Demaundēt. Think not that the homelinesse of thine habite, vnworthie thine honour, or any alteration whatsoeuer hath so begiled my sences, or estranged my loue, but that I gladly acknowledge my selfe the husbande of Pheone, & thy selfe th'only she whom Staurobates accepteth for wife.

Ah Pheone, had not thy misdeeme bene more than my misdeeds, then had not not thy ielous loue hapned so much to both our preiudice. But now well is me, and thrise happie bee this houre, wherein I re [...]ew whome I neuer did but loue, nor euer will but honour, thee my deare and only beloued Pheone.

And then as he aleaged in his excuse, those reasonable causes before touched, king Selchim no lesse ioyfull to heare tidinges of his Sister, than was Staurobates glad to hau [...] found his wife, imbrased her with as muche loue for a brother, as did the other for an husband, she as natu­rally resaluting, and reconciling her selfe to either.

Crisippus and Marpissa were now deliuered frō bands, and after many ioyfull teares, their passed mariage was also gladly confirmed by either parent, espe [...]ially Stauro­bates demeaned exceeding great ioy, for the recouering of his vnknowne sonne: of whom, and of her own absence, Pheone in effecte this reported: That at Staurobates his departure into India, shee finding herselfe ouer-taken with his daliances, that had left her neither Maid, wid­dow, nor wife, and not hearing from him according to ap­pointment, did therefore as well to auoide the law, which was death, as the shame of her fault, which was her great belly leaue secretly the Court, & in the Desertes was de­liuered of Crisippus: whome (being at point otherwise to haue perished) she swatheled vp, decking him with muche [Page] gold, and many rich Iewels, and layd him in a Path, by which a homely countrie Matron vsually passed, to milke her Cattle in those Deserts, her selfe in the meane while, priuily watching the euent of this her deuise.

And how this good woman finding so faire a Boy, and so fat a bootie, presented the poore fisher-man her husband with such her findings: when therevpon herselfe (simply araied) repairing vnto their Cottage, and asking a enter­tainment became Nurse vnto her own sonne. Thē lastly, how the Fisher-man by this windfall greatly enriched, & long sithence become a Marchantman in that Citie, not hauing any child of his own had adopted Crisippus (being vtterly ignorant of any other Parentage) his Son. This she told, & a generall Plaudiat dissolued y ^e ioyfull assembly.

HEre is (qd. Abynados) loue vpon loue, and louers by huddles, a discourse (trust me) friuolous in telling, fruitlesse in hearing, but most foolish in Action: such loue being (in my conceit) so far off from loue, that I rather think it a doting Frenzie, and enemie to Reason, rouing headlong vpō Impossibilities: for were it that such louing fooles could temper their Extreame, with a Meane, then would they loue with more discretion, or leaue with lesse domage. For not improperly may loue be compared to the sore called an Oncom or Fellon, which beginning at the fingers end, and by sufferance falling into the Ioint doth hazard a Mahem, or at the least-wise a Cure: so loue be­ginning at the eye, & by sufferance descending to the hart doth threaten life, or at the least-wise Reason: as the one therefore at the first is to be scalded, so th'other is presētly to be suppressed, for without a timely violēce, either Ma­lady is incurable. With such like discourses did Th'assiri­ans cut the calme seas, & descrying a strange ship at anker not far off, vpon occasiō, did also the like, riding as nere to the vnknown ship as they cold: where not omitting to en­quire after those in Quest of whome they thus sailed, oc­casion of that which now ensueth, was taken.

Cap. 28.

IT hapned that after many gentle saluta­tions passed and re­passed on either part, it grew in the end to such familiaritie, as neyther Companye doubted at their own pleasures friendly to boorde and reboorde eche others: and whilste the rest feast merely, and are tyed to the Canne by the teeth, Atys made a long and lamentable report to Tymae­tes the Lycian Captaine (for the strange Ship was of Li­cia) of the misse, or rather losse of Sorares, and his compa­nie, saying thus hath Fortune assailed the Father, and now assauteth the Children, triumphing his on Bale, and threatning our Blisse.

And no maruell, answered Tymaetes, considering that Fortune is only constant in inconstancie: and as touching Blisse, it may be your opinion is hereticall, for that true Blisse, in deede, performeth a perpetuitie, whereas the flattering pleasures of this world, cannot promise one ho­wers certaintie, and therefore it may not be aptly termed [Page] Blisse, whereof a chaunge is to bee doubted: and yet to attaine, or rather to attempt the sweetenesse of a cleare conscience, to exercise Uirtue, to combate with our Affec­tions, to eschew euill and doe good, to loue all and hate none, and to liue in the world as not of the world, are (no doubt) great arguments of blessednesse, but no full assu­rances of Blisse, for that none may be sayd blessed, vntill his last gaspe hath dissolued him from his naturall infir­mities, and then, and not before followeth blessednesse, the stipend of vertue.

As for worldly Prosperitie, I esteeme the same nothing lesse then prosperous, as a thing whose sower neuer fay­leth, and whose sweet euer fleeteth, as a spurre to wicked­nesse, and a bridle to well-doing: yea what glorious Ti­tles, or wealth can this Step-dame of Uertue bequeath vs, y ^t perish not with, or before the Possessors: so, y ^t were not y ^e followers of Fortune more blind thā their Guide, of the two Prosperitie, and Aduersitie, they would accounte the later as the more necessarie, because it openeth the eyes of the hart that Prosperitie stoppeth, and oftētimes redeemeth Uertue as it were out of a filthie Dungion.

But to wish Aduersitie is lesse needefull than necessa­rie: for so infinite, and inscident are the Calamities that follow vs euen from our Cradles, that wel may we wish either not to haue bene borne, or quickly to die, and so ma­ny are the wronges that men inflict vpon men, that to re­uenge all were impietie, and to suffer all impossible: wherfore iniuries (think I) not honestly to be dissembled may discreetely be reuenged, or at the worst, to seeke or worke reuenge is so much the lesse infamous, by howe much the offered occasion thereof is iniurious. That I should thus mention iniuries you maye perhaps muse, but whether there be cause or no I make you my Iudges, thus standing the case.

Cap. 29.

AFter the continuaunce of long, and wastfull warres betweene the Lydians, and the Lycians a Truse for certaine yeares was concluded, for assurance whereof, ei­ther side did deliuer their Pledges: the king my Father, (for a King is my father) sent into Licia a Noble man his Nephew, called Deipyrus, whome hee had not long before preferred to a Dukedome, & otherwise highly aduaunced: and the other king sent into Lydia a Noble yong Gentle­man called Xenarchus, whose Father is king of Cilicia, and also at this present vsurpeth in Lydia, whereof my fa­ther only retaineth the name of king, but he the kingdom: and that by means of a Rebellion moued by the same Dei­pyrus, after his returne from hostage, wherof thus follow­eth the circumstance.

Deipyrus partly of his own aspiring courage, partlye suborned with rewards by my father his enemie the then Lycian king, but cheefely for loue of Eurymone the same king his daughter, with whom and him aw-lesse loue had already vnited harts, did secretly gather a rebellious Ar­mie, and suddenly besieged my [...] in his owne Citie. Who seeing his Citizens not able to holde wage with the Besiegers, after long resistance, leauing behind him in the Citie the Queene my mother, and with her two Infants their children, conuaied himself into Cylicia, there desiring assistance against the Rebels, the which, in an ill hower, he easily obtained. But or euer any rescue might be conuai­ed into Lydia, my mother fearing to stay the Sack of the Citie, and entrie of the foe hourely expected for, flead pri­uily with her two infants, into a great Forrest not farre from the besieged Citie: where rootes and such wild ber­ries as the place afoorded, making an exchaunge of their wonted fare, hardly lingered the soule in their bodies. In the mean while, the king of Cilicia lāded his men, rescued [Page] the Citie, and pursued with great slaughter the flying Rebels: but myne vncle Deipyrus the chiefe Captaine & conductour of these trayterous Rebels, by chaunce re­couered the before named Forrest, and by that meanes escaped the sworde of the Pursuers.

Long had he not wandred here, but that he hearde the pittifull shriekes of a woman, wherefore making to the place from whence the sounde came, he perceiued a Lady likely to haue bene abused by two stragling souldiours of Cilicia: in whose defence at once he assailed them both, and in the ende valiantly chasing them away deliuered her of their purposed trecherie: which done, not knowing whō he had so rescued, he demaunded what she was, and how it fortuned her and her two infants, to wander so daun­gerously in the same Forrest.

My miserable mother (for it was my Queene mother) not knowing in that case, the man vnto whose questions she was then to answere, drying her dropping eyes, and falling at his feete, when she had stilled her yonglinges who with their pretie golles hugging about her necke cried out (which her selfe wanted) for foode, not daring to bewray what one she was, saide.

Cap. 30.

LIke as (good Sir) no desertes other then your owne valour, perswaded you erwhile to vse courage in my defence, euen so the defect of mine abilitie (respecting my wretched estate) may disswade you from all hope of any small Recompence, only accept of her poore thankes that shall ply the gods with often prayers, that they hearing my wish, may furnish my wāt with a reward for your me­rits, otherwise I continually rest your disabled debtor.

But in that you aske what one I am, alas Sir, see you not y ^t I am a most desolat woman? not borne to beg though now lesse happie thē a Begger, who late did wāt nothing, [Page] and now haue nothing, not longe since as wealthy, as I now am wretched, able to haue harboured the best, but now more harbourlesse than the worst: and therfore feele I affliction so much the more burdenous, by how much I once possessed aboundance: for no want more miserable, then to haue bene wealthy.

Who is it that feeleth not, or at the least wise heareth not, vnto what spoile, and penurie the Rebels haue nowe left all Lidia? to auoide whose outragious proceedinges, I haue chosen with these my poore infantes, to linger out our dying liues in this Forrest, though death (no doubt) would haue bene to vs misers, farre more sweeter.

Woe, yea endlesse woe, befall that vngratfull Traitor Deipyrus, the vnnatural ruine of his natural Countrie: oh that once, or euer these eies of mine shall leaue this light, I might see the Caitiffe in like distresse (if like might be) as presently am I, or that the Uillaine were as neere my reatch as euen now are you: then would I a-while adiorn these womanish teares, and with these handes (vnaccu­stomed to such deedes) claw out his trecherous eyes: but (alas) to wish vengeāce is nothing lesse then to be reuen­ged, for had I the hap to possesse my wish, I haue the hart should performe my will, or might my curse procure him hell, my blesse should neuer preferre him to heauen: well leauing the Reprobate to a Million of mishaps, which (I doubt not) will insi [...]ently ensue his misdeedes, may I, good Sir, request your name, and withall the present e­state of our beseiged Citie?

Deipyrus with no small remorse, noting the pitious di­stresse of the vnknowne Queen my molher, & hearing him selfe to himselfe, so euill spoken of and banned wist not what to say, as one but euen then ouertaken with the guiltinesse of his owne Conscience, which is euermore a seuere Accuser, and to the impenitent person a most terri­ble Iudge: but in the ende after some astonishment, he made her this aunswer.

[Page]Lady qd. he (as perceiuing in her many arguments of Gentrie) by good reason suffer we losers to chafe, neither is it a new thing, that a wronged woman in like bitter termes doth vtter her passionate stomache: Deipyrus (I must confesse) being the common enemie to his Countrie, hath incurred a cōmon curse of the Lydians, whose chast­ment being generally desired of all, shall priuatly be re­uealed onely to you. The same man, Lady, whose in­famous Attempts, hath returned the Attemptor a iust guerdon of his desertes, and he whose punishment would be vnto you such pleasure, presenteth himselfe before your eyes, as hardlye distressed as your selfe haue desired: & whosoeuer you are, that Deipyrus hath so much offen­ded, the same as humbly prayeth you of pardon: offe­ring also into your handes mine owne weapon, vpon mine owne head to wreake your vengeance, if it shal so please you by death to shorten my penance: or else as your Bond­slaue in your busines to employ my whole endeuour, if by life you thinke good to lenghten my punishment: for as I would not die a desperate Murtherer, Tormentor, and Traitor to mine owne person, so wish I not to liue a des­pised Runnagate, Reprobate, and Recreant to mine own Countrie: wherefore you being the Iudge, the grieuous spectacle of these your pyning Infantes mine Accusors, and my selfe (which of it selfe is sufficient) pleading to the accusation guiltie, if you pronounce sentence of death, you doe but Iustice without partialitie, the executing of which sentence, shalbe the accomplishment of you de­sire, and the reward of my desertes.

Cap. 31.

WHen Deipyrus had after this sorte finished such his speeches, recounted to her after what manner the siege was raised by the king of Cilicia, deliuered into her handes his naked sworde, and solemnly vowed not to [Page] resist her dome: as touching his life, or death, mine inra­ged Queene-mother grasping the yeelded weapon in her hande, was fully resolued to haue sheathed the same in the bowels of Deipyrus: when by and by altering her purpose, by reason of his straunge submission, and way­ing his lucke with her owne losse, shee thinketh him al­redy ouer seuerely punished, and her wronges suffici­ently reuenged: yet anon casting her pitifull eyes vp­pon her pyning Babes, rufully hanging about her their helpelesse Mother for foode, not there to bee had, her myldenesse was now conuerted to madnesse, and as one vtterly resolute on his death, in conceite shee imagined him alredy deade, so fully was shee bente to bereaue him of life: but euen at the verie pushe, from out her vnhardie hande shee letts fall the harmelesse weapon, and accuseth her selfe of ingratitude, shall I (thinkes shee) returne so gracelesse a recompence, in lieu of his late so gracious an enterprise? is it not much more gaine to me, that I am deliuered of Rauishmente which had bene incurable, then lo [...]e in that I am disgarnished of Riches which are recuperable? yes, yes, the ver­tue of the first, is more then the errour of the latter, why then shoulde I not admitte the one, and remitte the o­ther.

Thus reasoning with her selfe, as one offended with his passed Conspiracies, pacified by his present Contri­tion, and gratefull for his late profitable Combate, shee dissembleth the first, accepteth of the seconde, and than­keth him for the thirde: onely desiring his assistance to puruaie for their succour, vntill hearing of more quiet­nes abroad, they might with lesse daunger leaue the com­forles Forrest.

Wherunto he redily cōdiscented, building thē bowres, killing thē victuals, & in what he possibly might in their reliefe imploing his whole industrie, not knowing of all this while who they weare, vnto whome he became so [Page] carefull an Attendant: albeit by circumstances, he might haue bene induced to the knowledge of his charge, for my Mother somewhat to be disburdened of the burning sor­rowes, of her bursting heart (for working vessels and wofull heartes, the one by vent the other by wordes, are deliuered from breaking) taking occasion, in the hea­ring of Deipyrus to speake of the king my Father, would sometimes vse these and such like speeches.

I woulde Deipyrus, you coulde giue as good warran­tie of the King his wel-fare, as I a promise, with a per­formance betwixte him and you of an Attonement: but (alas) notwithstanding your discomfiture, I am not so comforted that I rest feareles of Cilician practises, well might the good King speede, what euill so-euer I suf­fer, who not prospering, I, mine, and many perish, and therefore dare I saie, that with greater disease for his woe, or gladder desire of his wealth, his Queene, and wife cannot labour than presently doe I, that nei­ther in the one nor the other do giue place to his best wel-willer.

Thus did she often make her mone a farre off, not da­ring in plaine tearmes to disclose her selfe, remembring how daungerous it is to repose confidence in a reconciled enemie, & in that point shewing her selfe better aduised then was my Father: who giuing credite to the fayned shewes of a friendly foe, did learne by the prise of a deere sallarie, the proofe of a drie desembler, and how to clime vp by the Breare, is to be clawed with the Bramble: for my Father, making account to be re-established in his kingdom, receiued frō y ^e Cilician king this crosse answere.

Sir qd he, your plentifull thankes are superfluous, and your profered liberalitie needelesse, for that you per­haps, will thinke me vnworthy so much, whilst I thinke my selfe worthy of more, and therefore may you propor­tion your thankes as it likes you, seeing my portion shal be as it lists me.

[Page]Is it an easie matter (thinke you) to transport an Ar­mie out of Cilicia, to hazarde our liues in Lydia, and ha­uing incountred and conquered the enemie, to conuerte the glorie of the battle, and gaine of the bootie to the pro­fit of others? no, no, I may profit you but not preiu­dice my selfe: Let it suffice that I haue corrected your Fooes, and that your selfe escape vnreuenged of our aun­tient emnitie: ouer and besides which vndeserued friend­ship, I giue you a Ship in all thinges well furnished, with sufficient treasure to supplie your expenses: and thus knowing my minde, the sooner you be packing, the safer may it be for your person: as for Cilci [...]a I haue Xe­narchus my sonne there to gouerne, & here in Lidia want not souldiours to engarison.

Unto whom in few wordes my Father thus replyed, that iustly condemning his pretence, and despysing his proffers, it lastly rested that Fortune his foe, might one daie crie quittance with falshoode his friende: and so one­ly accompanied of three or foure o [...] his faithfull seruants, (as doubting the worst) fled secretly into the before mē ­tioned Forrest, not knowing the same to be the Recepta­cle of Deipyrus, much lesse of his missed wife and childrē, but least of all, that the same his traiterous Nephewe did in such sort minister to their necessities.

Cap. 32.

WIthin this Forrest, in a pleasant Glade, the sheepe­herdes to take Wolues and other rauening beastes, haunting their Flockes had digged a verie deepe & daun­gerous Pit, laying boughes slightly ouer-twhartes, and artificially couering the same ouer with greene Tur [...]es, so that the subtilitie thereof might hardly be espyed: in­to which Pit Deipyrus ranging abroade, to seeke after sustenance for him selfe and his charge at vnwares slip­ped: and seeing no possibilitie of deliuerance from thence [Page] complaineth after this manner.

Sower is that sweete which decaieth in the blossome, but sweete is that sower that dyeth in the budde: ah hap­pie man Deipyrus, that being forworne with Correction, hast at the length weryed Fortune with correcting, and shalt anon present death with the glad deliuerie of thy ioylesse life: and that not suddenly amongest the impe­nitent Pikes, but slowlier then thou wouldest amiddest this Pitte, wherein appeareth the great mercie of the good gods, in respect of the small merits of sinnefull men.

O that the secrete bowels of the earth that denieth not to burie me, as no doubt the vpper face thereof disday­neth to beare me, coulde aswell conceale my vile faults, as it doth couer my vitious flesh: then shoulde my Trea­sons which now seeme odious to the heauens, infamous to the world, hurtefull to many, daungerous to the most, detestable to all, and burdinous to mine owne conscience, then (I say) might such mine offences su [...]cease to sur­uiue deceased Deipyrus, which (alas) will then be hardly ripe, when I shalbe happely rotten.

Neuerthelesse, I am not nowe to dreade the worst of mercylesse men that slowly forget, but to hope the best of the mercifull gods that swiftly forgiue: nowe am I to sitte vppon my selfe as Iudge, and against my selfe to pronounce iudgment, that the Gods seeing me impartiall in mine owne case, may (as no doubt they will) spare me for the same cause: for it more standeth vs vppon to con­fesse, then to defende our follies. It is, alas, a common imperfection to offende, but an vnwonted perfection to re­pent, and why? the first springeth from Nature, but the other from vertue: yea Nature (whereunto we easily in­cline) is in effect Securitie to Sinne, & feare of worldly shame biddeth vs iustifie our selues: when (in deede) to liue in Securitie is not to die in safetie: for meete it is that y ^e honny which seemed pleasant in the mouth, be cōuerted to [Page] bitter wormewood in the stomacke, and vtterly abhorred of the soule.

Doth not the pleasantnesse of the fruite, make amends for the bitternesse of the roote? the hoped for ioy in the harbour, moderate the suffered perils on the Seas? and the will to be released of the maladie, asswage the sharp­nesse of the medicine? and shall not I that grone with Repentance in mine heart, hope thereby to gaine refresh­ment to my soule? yes verely yes, so to hope winneth an effectuall hire: that we be Contrite it is necessarie, that our Contrition be equiparent to our Transgressiōs more necessarie, but if the qualitie of our Repentance exceedeth the quantitie of our offences then is the same most accep­table.

But (wretches that we are) flesh and blood perswade the contrarie, saying we scarce trip, when (in deede) wee stumble downe right, that the crime is verie light when the same is most weightie, that we shall liue long, and may at leasure repent, when in a moment we are taken away or euer we thinke to amend, and so in the end per­rish desperatly that persist diuelishly: for as therefore the gods are greatly delighted with Repentance, so are they greeuously displeased with Procrastination.

It only remaineth then, that I imbrace thee (O sweete Repentance) a burthen so much the lesse ponderous, by how much thou increasest in greatnes: to the pricked con­science thou art the perfit consolation, and the only coun­terchaunge to deserued confusion: with thy feete onely we run to mercy, & without thy winges flie we not from ven­geance: thou (I say) doest reprehend mine errors, & there­fore will I apprehende thy vertues, neuer giuing thee ouer, vntill (by death at least) I comprehend thy sweete­nesse.

Whilest Deipyrus most desirous to haue died, spake yet more in the darke pit, one while remembring the distresse of his guidelesse Charge, left at randon in the dangerous [Page] Forrest, and often naming (whome he made account neuer more to see) his deare Eurimone the king of Licia his daughter, whose loue was the greatest part of his inter­prised lewdnesse, but neuer forgetting with a penitent heart, and bitter teares to send forth his humble prayers, as his soules Harbengers.

It chaunced my Father and his Company to wander along the same Glaede, and (not doubting at all the sub­tilitie of the place) one of them fell hedlong into the same couered Pit, lighting so boisterously vpon Deipyrus, that he bore him downe to the earth in a sowne: the other on­ly astonished with the fall, and not receiuing farther harme: after a while feeling, but not seeing the panting body of a man lying prostrate, wrought such meanes that he recouered Deipyrus out of his traunce.

By which time my Father and the others aboue had letten downe wythes, and other deuises which they had framed for the purpose, so drawing vp the man that was newly fallen into the pit: who (not a little ioyfull of so speedie deliuerie) aduertised them, how there was yet re­maining behind an other person, to him vnknown.

Wherevpon letting downe the second time, they drewe Deipyrus vp into the open ayre, that wel-nere of a day and night before, had scarcely discerned any light of the sunne or starres.

Cap. 33.

BUt when the king my father beheld the plight of Dei­pyrus, and the same perceiued the presence of my Fa­ther, it was a world to note the alteration of either their Countinances.

Espetially Deipyrus consumed with the pensiuenesse of his hart, infeebled through weakenesse of body, and con­founded in the guiltinesse of his owne Conscience had bet­ter cause often to chaunge his colour, then (as it hapned) [Page] to dread my fathers cholor: Wherefore onely accusing Fortune for such extraordinarie malice, and exclaiming of Death for that peramptorie delay, he fell flat to the earth as one vtterly berefte of sence: the Tender of whose do­lorous passions, might haue bene pleaded in full Acquit­tance of all passed Trespasses, had Enuie it selfe follow­ed the Action, and Rigour occupied the place of Iudge­ment.

My father (contrarie to all expectation) ouercomming Ire, and being himselfe ouercome by pitie, not withoute watrie eyes, lifting vp Deipyrus that shamed to looke him in the face, sayd.

If (Deipyrus) thou werte vnsuspitious of my nature, mindful what I once was, and not ignorant what I now am, thou wouldst not suppose the Accident of the last, to cause an Alteration in the first, that is, not thinke mee a mercilesse Begger, whom thou diddest know to be a piti­full King, neither wouldst thou doubt the autoritie of the second, seing I that late might haue commaunded thee to Iudgement, do not now dare in any place to demaund Iu­stice, and without Law to determine a wrong, is in Lawe to decline from right: neuerthelesse, but euen now, did I thinke it a very hard thing to hold my tongue in anguish, harder to hold my hands in Anger, but hardest of al to for­giue mine Enemie: but Sufferance the harts Phisition, (I wot not how preuailing) telleth me nowe, that Anger should be as shorte, as the same is sudden: that hastie Wroth is an harmefull Councellor, betwixt too muche and too little not obseruing a meane: that the ende of Wrath is Shame or Repentaunce, or both: and that the same euill may easily be auoided, if but a small time it be deferred: for time, I perceaue, doth moderate Ire, and better man is he that wisely subdueth his Furie, than he that with armour sacketh a Citie: neither is any Reuēge more valiaunt, than to pardon a foe that is vanqui­shed.

[Page]It is I say, Deipyrus, but euen now, that no suche Ar­gument could haue perswaded what moderation my selfe doe nowe prosecute: and no maruell if my patience was then mooued, when thine Ingratitude was so ma­nifested: for easilier doe wee suffer a wound fastened by a Foe, than sustayne a wrong offered by a Friend, as estee­ming the first, trespasse, but the latter, Treason.

With more greefe than gaine I see, by thine example (vnaduised Nephew) I see it, that Enuie drinketh vp the greatest part of her own poison, and that whilst the minde flieth higher than it shoulde, in time the man falleth low­er than he would: neither doe the same Effects, euer fol­low the same affections, for braue Intentes haue often times base Euents.

Well (Deipyrus) seeing by thy death I may not recouer my losse, it shall suffis [...] if by sparing thy life I may so re­obtaine thy loue, for be assured, my kindnesse is yet as much as our kindred: and to thee I gladlye participate this comfort whereof my selfe am not yet destitute, that is, No degree of miserie maye exceede a Superlatiue, and when Mischiefes are at the highest pitche, then ey­ther succeedeth an Amendment, or of necessitie an End: for at the worst, y ^e hardest Winter of ioy hath death a Bound.

But not to hope beyond hope, say I (Deipyrus) is con­trary to courage: Fortune is sayd thus to haue spoken of her selfe:

And why then shoulde I thinke it vnpossible, that did sometimes on the very top of the Wheele vaunt Glorior e­latus, though anon Decendo mortificatus, & now Jnfimus axe teror, in time to adde Rursus ad astera feror?

Cap. 34.

NOw after diuers louing imbracinges, and that many kinde teares had caused a long silence, my Father aduertised Deipyrus and the rest, that firste his intent was to seeke out his Queene and two children, affirming their misse to touch nearer than any other his misfortunes, and then to enterprise somewhat in recouerie of his detayned kingdome.

Wherevpon Deipyrus did tell my father of the Ladye, and her two Infants, ouer whome (as before) hee had ta­ken charge in that Forrest, and was very desirous before their departure from thence, to haue succoured the di­stresse of those three.

But herevnto my Fathers answere was, that in their owne cace delay might be dangerous, Lydia (sayth he) at this day affordeth more than ynough such distressed wan­derers, whome not to be able to helpe it greeueth, and for whome to hurt our selues were not requisit: he that once flieth may againe fight: whilst the Prince liueth to hope, the peoples cace is not desperate: Iupiter woulde not then rescue Danaes, when he was to resist Saturne, neyther let vs so admit pitie, that we omitte matters of greater im­portance.

Deipyrus who seemed thus aunswered, but in his piti­full minde not satisfyed, vndertaking (as hee that made himselfe best acquainted with that forrest) to conduct his companye the nearest waye to the Sea, did of purpose leade them directlye to that place, where hee had before left his helpelesse Charge, and there hee founde them all three pitifully weeping, and vtterlye destitute of com­fort.

No sooner did my father behold this sight, but (as it were at once, ouertaken with extreme ioy, and extreame greefe) he forthwith sowneth: my mother also (for by this [Page] time she knew him) endeuouring to giue him succour fal­leth also into the like traunce: but eyther of them being anon recouered, and nothing omitted in passion, word, or action insident to so vnlooked for, louing, and lamentable a meeting they consult of their safetie, and how to proceed in their Enterprises.

In the end, induced by such profitable and discrete rea­sons as Deipyrus then aleaged, they all bend their iournie towards Licia: where they were no sooner ariued, but they heard report of the Lician king his death, and percei­ued great prouision to enthronize in the Soueraintie Eu­rymone, Deipyrus his Lady and louer.

Deipyrus not a little ioyfull of these tidings, & affying in his Lady her Constancie, with the rest of his companie (vnknowne to all that met them) repayred to the Courte: and when hee had disclosed himselfe, and his distressed friendes to Eurymone, she comforted them with suche ho­nourable and hartie entertainment, as did both giue a perfection to their hope, and a defection from all heaui­nesse: taking (according to their former couenaunt of loue) Deipyrus to husband, who ioyn [...]ly at this daye, rule king and Queene in Licia.

And there haue my depriued parents euersince liued in such prosperitie, that their exile might be sayd an Aduāce­ment: in whose quarell also Deipyrus for the recouerie of Lydia, hath long time maintained open and sharp warres againste the king of Cilicia: towards whom to entreate of diuers waightie affaires giuen me in charge, I am nowe sayling.

Cap. 35.

BEfore the curteous knight Tymetes had fynished this his speeche, Atys and Abynados had espyed in the Ly­cian Ship a very fayre Target, wherevppon was curi­ously engrauen, and in liuely colours purtrayed the ter­rible [Page] Image of enraged Semiramis, in such maner as shee behaued her self, when being informed of the beseeging of Babilon she rushed from out her tiring Chamber, her eyes seeming to sparckle fyre, in her hande brandishing her weapon, and her flasking haire losely wauing vppon her bare shoulders, as hauing vowed not to bind vp the same her disordred Tresses, vntill she had vtterlye expelled the Besiegers: the which (notwithstāding the great strength and number of her enemies) with fortunate expedition, she perfourmed as valiantly in deede, as shee had vowed the same couragiously in word. The two bretheren (as I sayd) earnestly viewing this Targat, could not perswade themselues, but that the same once appertained to Sorares thir Father, in whose hand when hee disankered from Niniuie they had seene it: and therefore after they had o­pened their thoughts, and moued some questions concer­ning the same, such was Tymaetes his answere.

In Sarmatia (qd. he) a warlike nation in Scithia, from whence I now come, and whether I am shortly to return ruleth an vncle of mine, of whose gifte I receaued this Targat: the whiche togeather with an infinite masse of Treasure, Apparell, Armour, and other Ornamentes af­ter the Assirian fashion came to his possession, through the ariuall of a distressed Shippe being driuen into his Countrie, wherein remained only two Meades, and the same very aged and impotent persons: of whose aduen­tures I am not able to make any further Reporte, sauing that they seemed to take great vnkindnesse, of the auarice, and crueltie of certaine Assirians, whome they had lefte shiplesse in a barren Iland: but being neuerthelesse most desirous of their deliuerie, mine Uncle hath promised to satisfie them therein, as soone as the season of the yeare serueth, to crosse those blustring and daungerous Seas: and trust me, Gentlemen, it is not vnlikely (whereof I thought not before) but that these Assirians may be your parents, and friends after whom you make this enquirie: [Page] if therefore (for I imagin it shall be worth your labour) it may please you first to sayle with me into Lydia, and af­ter to resaile into Sarmatia, I promise you my companye thether for your conduction, and my credit there for your countinaunce.

The Assirians gathering much hope of such Tymaetes his comfortable tydinges, & thankefully accepting what hee curteously offered, disanker with him and saile into Lydia: neither could they sayle much awrie, that to finde out Sorares they knew not when, were to seeke they wist not where.

To shorten therefore their sayling, in Lydia I now land them: where to leaue them (sielie soules) in the decke, were for me, of rarer matters than yet mentio­ned to liue in your debt: of whiche the Tra­gedie now ensuing shall partly discharge me.

Cap. 36.

NOt long after they had taken lande, Xenarchus a most deare friend and seconde himselfe to Timaetes, and Timaetes such and the same to Xenarchus, be­twixt whom (notwithstanding the deadly enmetie, and impa­cable discord so long time con­tinued, and daylye encreasing betwi [...]te the two kinges their fathers (for Xenarchus, as is before-sayde, was Sonne to the King of Cilicia) Nature in respecte of the Sym­phatie of their mindes, in two bodies seemed to haue plan­ted but one and the same hart, immediately I say, as Ty­maetes had set foote on Shoare, he mette Xenarchus rea­die to haue taken Shippe: who after many friendly gree­tinges, sayd.

It fareth with me (friend Tymaetes) as with one that hauing delightfully dreamed, is therefore displeased with such delight because the same was but a dreame: I that scarsely haue time to put forth my hande for a wel-come, must find leasure to poure forth my teares for a fare-wel, otherwise in shewing my selfe a dutifull friend▪ I shoulde be thought a disobedient Sonne, and to vs either twaine the damage might [...] all one. I haue (T [...]maetes) more newes then time to t [...]ll it▪ only think it standeth vs vppon [Page] to be circumspect, of our tri-partite familiaritie begone with Mazeres, least thereby out by-parted friendship be called into question by my Father: for I perceiue, the Hawke now beginneth to checke, that er-while came so freely to fist: thou maiest trie him, but do not trust him, so farfoorth esteeming Mazeres thy Friende as thou still make accounte Mazeres may bee thy Foe, for the Coun­tinance may double with the Conscience: and therefore do Flatterers praise vs because they would prize vs: by this much thou maist anotomize a meaning. I hope to finde thee here, at my returne from Cilicia, meane while let friendship, and often recourse of Letters make vs pre­sent in mindes, that are absent in persons: and thus sor­rowfully taking their leaues, they departed either of thē his seuerall waie.

When Tymaetes, Atys, Abynados, and their company had bestowed them selues in Sardis, in which Citie the Courte then lay, and after Tymaetes had conferred with the King, and whilest he attended his deferred answere, they with the lesse tediousnesse to passe forth the time of their aboade in Lidia, one while frequente the delectable Springes, sweete Groues, and braue prospectiue Hils, dedicated to the Meonian Muses, & another while do as much wonder at the glittering Riuers Pactolus, and Her­mus casting on shoare their goulden Sandes, as delight in the musicall Quier of Swannes that sweetely sing on the bankes of Enister.

But neuer could they glut their hungrie eyes, in be­holding the Ridlike faire Troupes of Lidian Lasses, a­mongest whom in generally, nature might rather seeme for her owne learning to haue borrowed beautiful Presi­dentes, then able vppon them to haue bestowed brauer Perfections: in furtherance wherof the gentle Planettes, temperate Climates, holsome Scituation, fertil Soile, and what not? were in all thinges occurrant: so that not without good reason, were the Nymphes of Meonia cal­led [Page] terreue goddesses, aswell in respect of themselues as their alotted Paradise: and not onely to the [...]oconde Ve­nerian, but euen to the melancholike Saturnest it might haue moued delectatiō, to haue viewed these louely Wen­ches, with their yealow Tresses dependant shadowing their iuorie Shoulders: and how their short Frockes of silke girte to their small Middles, being sometimes, a­middest their wanton daunces, whisked vp by the winde discouered their demie buskins, smothly planted with backels of goolde to their daintie Ancles, and eftsoones bared their white knees.

Atys (as it seemed) delighted with these day Starres and nightshades, the chiefe Principles (no doubt) of his Astrologie, remembring the Scythian Lorde his late vn­answered inuectiue against this sweete sexe, and nowe (though out of season) feeling himselfe thus amorously animated to speake somewhat in their defence, said to A­bynados, in the hearing of diuerse Ladies, and gentlemen as followeth.

Cap. 37.

LIke as (saith he) the dead Sea Asphaltus in Syria is indifferently cōmended, in respect that no liuing Crea­ture may therein miscarrie, as condemned in that no mo­uable Substance therein doth ingender, euen so our Scy­thian host (in mine opinion) shewed himselfe no more cur­teous by his bounteous intertaining of wanderers, then currish by his byting inuaying against Women: not vn­like as if a Moile being tickled with a Hornet in the taile should lash out at random with the heeles, or as if Hellen beguiling, Lucrecia should be banned: when (in deede) we are not to esteeme worser of women, then doe hunters of Unicornes, who though they goore with the hornes, yet are they got for their hornes: Bees with honnie haue stinges, and we all haue our faultes, admit the good­wife [Page] play soule, shoulde therefore the goodman play the foole? I say no, because he begining the quarrel at home, to ciuile vnquietnes may so adde impudent perseuerance, and then housholde iarres shall bid his good-dayes good-night: but in any case if Venus be founde in Coniunction with Mars, let Vulcan show his cunning onely in concea­ling, and rather sleepe to Beagles, then awake Ban­dogges: otherwise for Iusticers he shal but finde gibers, and those that wil rather be alike detected, then alike sus­pected: for when thinges are published for common, they are then practised for currant, and then what with first Playfeares, and last Smel-feastes in vaine shall Iunos heardsman watch Iupiters Hecfare.

The Foxe most of all mistrusteth the Foxe, neither is the deceiuer fearelesse of deceit, and were it not (thinke women) that iealous men did them selues falsly enter, they woulde not suspect women to beare men to many: wherefore (sillie soules) plaie they, faire or play they foule seeing themselues alike suspected, they hould it but good reason to requite such open sorrowe, by the aduaū ­tange of some priuie sollace, and will venture if but for a Reuenge.

Thus see we that iealous men, do the rather helpe for­wardes the secret escapes of women: besides which may be added, that with importunate sutes, charming words, intising giftes, oportunitie of time, and place, and by a thousand other deuises of sufficiencie to moue mountay­nes, their good, but not deified natures, the which to cer­cūuent mē neuer cease to fish for oportunities, be labored.

It resteth then, seeing the Eie, the Eare, & the Conceit are the only surfets of such sicknesse, that I see, & I see not is a soueraigne emplaister to one so wounded, not to see, nor to desire to see an especiall preseruatiue against such maladies, but he that will neither see it, heare it, nor be­leeue it, shall haue more then can phisicke warrant, neuer to die with swallowinge of Fly-bloes, and excepte his [Page] stomack be more then squeimish, the fish ouerflowen of the Birde Aspra, not at all feele the same contagious. Let it suffize, that women as they be subtle in counsell, so are they secret in conuaiance, for he that first bloweth to vncupple, shall be the last that commeth into the fal: but to him that curiouslie searceth a knife, wherewithall to cut his owne throate, I say Argus his heade to bee well worthy Mercurie his handling: well thus haue I briefly, not as I coulde, alleaged the best, for those against whom might be obiected the worst.

Cap. 38.

BUt what shall I saye to those stoicall Prescisians, or rather supernaturall Hoddipeakes, that barke out their raylinges against the excellencie of all Women in generall? shall I tearme them fleshly lompes without Life, Fires without Heate, Ghostes without Substāce, or Shadowes without Sence? not so, but as the beast Chimer hath a Lions face, but a Dragons taile, so those beastes haue continent wordes, but vnchast workes, and seeme deuoute, when (in deede) their deuotion is no­thing lesse then their seeming: for they fare with Wo­men as do Riders with their Horses, who spur them not to run from them, but to run with them, or as Lapida­ries with their pretious stones, that hew them not for an­ger, but for aduauntage.

Some of which sort, liue not single as pretending to liue chast, but deny marriage as preuenting a charge, or (like the Fox that will eate no grapes) haue not Wiues because they hate them, but hate Women because they cannot haue them: and some other whose affections no doubt coulde afforde them to loue, did not their infirmi­ties inforce them to leaue, play therefore the enuious Dogge in the Manger: but much more safer were it, say I, for such Hypocrites to be iustly reproued for incon­tinent [Page] sinner, then falsly reputed for chast liuers, for then the disclosing of the one might procure them humble Spi­rits, wheras the dissembling of the other puffeth vp their hawtie Stomackes: whom if we should admit to be such as they seeme, yet far more commendable is poore Matri­monie, then proude Chastitie.

It is, trust me, ridiculous to heare, howe these Mon­sters would monsterfie the Manners, and Ornaments of Women, which they receiue naturally, or applie to beau­tefie: as if (forsooth) like Sheepe, seeing water they must needes thirst, or greene Meadowes fall to grasing, when in troth, not the Wardrop, nor the Woman, but their owne wanton inclinations, setteth Flaxe easily on bur­ning.

And yet (Ladies) these are they who giue foorth, that your naturall beauties are no other then artificiall sha­dowes, if you keepe in, then say they you are seruing your Customers, if you walke out, ther seeking for Clyantes, if brauely appareled then Players, if meanely attyred then Paltockes, if you be merrie then immodest, if modest then sullen, if you keepe not companie then proude, if you keepe companie then light, if easilie caught then ouer kinde harted, and as ready to checke, if wisely deferring your choise then ouercruelly minded, and too tedious the sute, if you will not be courted at all then disdainefull, if any be admitted to conference then suspected, if you bee rich they woo your dowries, if poore they way not your vertues, if beautifull they couet the fleece, if not they cast off the Croone, if soft sprighted they doubt new Com­petitors, if sharpe witted they dreade old Copesmates, if you tell them of profit they terme you Pratlers, but shoulde you bee silent when they are carelesse, then will not they be tōgue-tied to cal you bad Huswifes: in a word (I wot not with what furie moued) in all thinges they op­pose them selues to your vertues.

But I may say, and say truely, that next to the gods [Page] we are most beholding to womē: for if to be borne into the world be a benefit, euen from their strained wombes wee are proceeded: if to be fostered vp, and that with their blood be kindnesse, euen from their stretched pappes was it sucked: if charie attendance (being of our selues noy­some, and helpelesse) be charitie, euen with their often filed handes were we cherished: what shall I say? more worketh in vs to our behoofes, the nature of our mothers, then the influence of the Planets: for admit we the opera­tion of Luna in our feeble Infancie, of Mercurie in our vn­stable Childhood, of Venus in our effeminate Adolescen­cie, of Sol in our florishing Youth, of Mars in our stayed Manhood, of Iupiter in our temporate Seniorie, and of Saturne in our decripite olde age, or the dominion, or con­stellation of the twelue Signes, or any the Starres at al times, yet who knoweth not, that euerie of these successiu­ly continew but their seasons? neither is there any ineui­table necessitie, others then our owne sensitiue appetites, that doth violently drawe vs to the seuerall dispositions of the Planets, for the Wise man [...]s saide to gouerne the Starres.

But the vnseparable operation, and naturall incli­nation of the Mother towards her Sonne, is a disposition vnremoueable, and without ende: for can she forget a part of her owne flesh? no, but euen from the Springe of our Infancie, to the Sommer of our youth, the Haruest of our Manhood, the Winter of our Old-age, yea after our fu­nerals, and in our Children, her tender care of vs doth rather increase, then in any part deminish: so that (if we remember our selues) vnrequitable are the dueties, wher in we are most deeply indebted to our mothers: and yet many times, such is our vnthankfulnesse, that what they prodigally deliuered without meane, we nigardly repaie with scanted measure, and such is oftē the corrupt nature of man, that where he oweth most, there he loueth least: be­sides which of their cōmendatiō remaineth as followeth.

Cap. 39.

JT is moreouer to be noted, that Nature whom we must graunt to be perfit in all her Actions, foreseeing that without the helpe of women, the depopulatiō of the world woulde follow, to the intent therefore that men should be the more capable of their Imbracementes, hath infused throughout the whole linaments of their delicate bodies, and sweete faces such aboundance of beautie, that we see­ing the excellencie of the same, to shine in our eyes like precious Carbuncles, hoisting vp the sayles of our hope, and drawing neere vnto them in the Ships of our hartes, become after many pleasant perils, first Marchantes, & then Maisters of such inualuable Iewels: though not at all times, with such speede as we woulde, yet with a more profitable sute then wee wish: without crossing is no cowning, by the labour some acquiring of women, wee are, say I, not a little profited in valour, and wisedome: for when they haue thus set our teeth amorously on edge, it standeth vs vppon artificially to whet our wittes: that our tongues hunt for eloquence in presence to delight, and our heades for inuentions, in absence to deserue: in our dealings we then must be circumspect, in diet temperate, and in apparell desent, with all which loue doth furnishe vs, and by all which loue is furthered. Adde also hereun­to, that their loue teacheth vs to be valiant in Chiualrie, and venterous in Armes, to thinke feare a fault, and no­thing impossible, to exercise all things, to enterprise most thinges, and in somewhat to be exquisite.

Nay be it so (which may be denied) that by wooing we are losers, yet doth it follow (which all must confesse) that by wining we are gainers: who attaining at y ^e length to be possessours of our couited prises, cōmand in triūphwise our subdued Troubles, to follow like▪ chained Captiues our victorious Chariots, yea and by how much greeuous [Page] we accounted the foughten Conflict, by so much the more glorious we esteeme the fulfilled Conquest

But now if I, that am in deede a fresh-man, & bad So­phister, should in hearing of those who haue proceded Ma­sters in that Art, reason of the Briding, the Bedding, and many other Meriments insident to Mariage, I shoulde proue my selfe a Dotrell, in comparison of a Doctor: for Practitioners not Puples must occupie Pulpits, and to frame a Commentarie, that cannot make a Construction, were to propound a Probleme, & to expound the same with an Oracle: wherefore omitting to Paraphrase vpon such misteries, I will (Ladies) after an Epitome of the great blessinges of wedlocke, make a sparing Cōclusion of your vnspeakable Commendacions.

That the gods them selues, were the first Institutors of Marriage it is probable, that therby our fleshly Appetits be not only qualified with a more ciuil Coiture, thē might seeme brutish and offensiue to nature, but also the worlde multyplied with a legitimate, no bastardly Propagation must be graunted: but (which is more) marriage, no doubt, being a thing miraculously confirmed, through a mutuall partisipation of whatsoeuer they possesse, and free Com­munitie of their own persons, being as I may terme it, by Transplantation two in one flesh, worketh one & the same will, wish, loue, liking, or disliking, affection, defection, & affliction betwixt the man, & woman coupled in Matrimo­ny▪ especially the wife, by a more inscrutable, pliant, zea­lous & profound forwardnesse in Consent is at all assaies, & in all things flexable to the nature, conditions, dispositi­ons, will and estate of her huband: in prosperitie a partner of his wealth, in aduersitie a partaker of his woe, and in both a comfortable companion: in health she filleth him with delightfull sollace, in sicknesse shee followeth him with duetifull succour, and in all things is a constant coū ­cellor, and concealor of his purposes: bee he poore or be he rich with her vertue, dowrie, or diligence shee increa­seth [Page] and maintaineth his substance: to the noble, and innoble shee beareth heires to inherite their discen­ding possessions, Sonnes to eternise their deceased Pro­genitors, and Children to comforte their distressed Pa­rents. In a word, it is commonly seene that being vnma­ried, we are inconstant in thoughts, and incontinent in workes, or if neither of both, yet suspected in eyther of both, but being maried, of contented mindes and conueni­ent maners, or if not such as we should, yet vnsuspected for such as we are: because mariage not only is pleasant, and affable to the good, but also doth credite and counti­naunce euen the bad.

Ah sweet Ladies, no longer would I liue than I ho­nour you, but sooner would I die than I shall hate you: otherwise old age, should draw my head to ioyne with my feete, and a loathed life make mee glad with my nailes to scrape mine owne graue, and neuerthelesse still to liue in sorrow, rather than to die a Recreant in your seruice: and that I speake this for fashion, or flatterie, or that I groūd mine opinion vpon an vnperfect foundation let not any i­magine: for Nature it selfe by an vnrepelable lawe, doth inioine vs to your loue, and amongest men by a lawdable custome, your honouring, hallowing, reuerensing, & pro­tecting is especially prouided for.

To conclude therefore, suche as are priers after the smal, or natural faults, escapes, and infirmities of womē, I wish neuer to be partakers of the profite, pleasure, and bountie of women: and no doubte, I haue alreadie my wishe, for not to excuse the firste, is not to vse the lat­ter.

Cap. 40.

BRother (qd. Abynados) I commend your skill, in that you haue chosen the better side, framing your answere in a place dangerlesse of a Replie: and the rather for that [Page] by long continuing your matter, you haue I coniecture, discontinued our memories: as for your Methode it is sufficient, because your meaning may bee supposed: nei­ther doe I thinke you flatter women in ieast, because I know you fauour them in earnest.

Indeede (qd. Atys) in that we be bretheren, by your owne shrifte you maye the easilier search me: but had I couited praise, as the same is cōtrarie to my pretence, yet brotherhood is a bad colour to Bracerie, for had I sollici­ted any to support my sayings, of all others I woulde not haue suborned your soothings: not onely because of our nere aliance, but (which your self haue confessed) because of your non [...]san memorie: for how shoulde a blinde man iudge of colours, or any thinke you to deliuer a good sen­tence, hauing so grosse a censure: yet well did you in not arrogating to your own shittle wit, had you not deroga­ted from the sensible capacitie of others.

Amongst bretheren, Friends, Aduocates, and Ora­tors (qd. Tymaetes) it is common to haue like brawling, without bu [...]iting, & bickering without blowes: and in such quiet quarrels bread through emulation, and not be­gone vpon enuie, the eares perhaps maye itche, and the tongue scratche, but with the sound ended all stomacke: for mine owne part Atys howsoeuer Abynados like, or mislike of the matter, what I cannot amende by wordes, I admit by signes, and therefore without more, in token that I gladlye gratifie your Commendation as concer­ning women, I passe my full Consent therein, vnder this Seale of Confirmation: and therewithall hee fa­stened a sweet kisse vpon Aphrodite her soft cherie lips.

This same Lady was daughter to the king of Cilicia, now vsurper of Lydia: whose fortune, had it bene propor­tionable to her feature, should haue left her lagge to none in blisse, as shee out-went all others in beautie: her loue towards Tymaetes, though it appeared later then her bro­ther Xenarchus his friendship▪ yet had not that ran the fa­ster, [Page] this mighte haue giuen the turne: but for that her loue might not out [...]strip his friendship, I leaue the Corse indifferent, and Timaetes thus far an happie man in friend, and louer.

Then Aphrodite with blushing cheekes, and softelye voice saide to Tymaetes, Sir would I cauell I might saye your Confirmation to be voidable, no print appearing of the impression: and for you to alleage the seale ouer softe, or the ware too hard wil not be pleadable: neither to haue sealed before witnesses shall, I feare me, fall out for Atys his securitie, or your and my safetie: for though my selfe am not squaimish of your orderly kisses, yet it maye bee, there is one gone out that wil be quarilous for such open kindnesse. You are not (I trow) to learn, that loue and Principalitie brooke no Copartners, and therefore Maze­res as touching me, no Compettitour, howbeit in your loue no Cor [...]all: but to win Atlas his Apples behoueth charmes for Dragons, to woo Ladies in Mollosse sops for Cerberus, & to conuay Aphrodite into Lycia warinesse in Lydia.

So turning to Atys, with a more audible voice she say­eth, I haue heard, that whilst the vainglorious Crow o­pened her beake to sing, y ^e flattering Fox obtained a boo­tie by slight, but if you (Atys) haue let slip for the like suppose, you must leape short of the like successe: in euery clownish Auditorie our praise, or dispraise is made so com­mon a Text, that if Venus be at the toungs end, Cupid is at the tailes ende: yea sometimes from her bosome they leape so deepe into his belly, that their hasty ingresse hath hardly a regresse: thus I say Atys, the plentie of your Re­torick hath bred a scarcitie of Regarders. What man, we can disgest Porke, yet may you clay vs with Pewits: say might you without shame, and sweare maye I without sinne, that women are not so precisely good, as you pretēd to make them, neither so perfitly badde, as I intende you meane them. I will aske you a Ques▪

[Page]But here alas, or euer she might adde, tion, the surplu­sage of the word Question, she was (good Lady) inforced to conclude a Periodus, not being come to the Comma: for (inuited to this bitter banquet by Mazeres, whose mad­ding ielousie had hamered this mischief, as not disgesting such familianitie, which contrary to his liking, had euen now passed betwixt Tymaetes and Aphrodite) the cruell king her father, and a many his Seruaunts with vnshea­thed swordes, and threatning lookes suddenlye rushe into the place, where this guiltlesse Company were thus se­curely chatting: who after many opprobrious speeches, hailing Tymaetes, Atys, and Abynados from thence, cast them all three into a most vile dungion: where had not A­phrodite by stealth, with extraordinarie meate amended their ordinarie meales, they might haue abated their fat­nesse with fasting, not fennell.

Cap. 41.

NEwes of Tymaetes his immartial imprisonment, was anon conuaied into Licia, wherevppon the depriued King his father, accompanied also with his nephew, king Deipyrus, sodainly landed an huge Armie of Lician sol­diours in Lydia, girting Sardis with a strong siege: how­beit the impregnable scituation of the strong walled Ci­tie without, and the abundance of men, victuals, and Ar­tilarie within, mighte haue discouraged the Besiegers to Assayle, as the same incouraged the Besieged to resist.

And therefore after two moneths, the barbarous vsur­ping king, as it were in despightfull ostentation to shew how little he forced or feared his enemies, causing Tymae­tes loden with yrons to appear on the walles, and wauing to the Licians as though he purposed a parlie, when the fa­ther of Tymaetes was come within his hearing, he sayd.

Because Tymaetes is the man (ye Licians) for whose in­largement [Page] youre Armies nowe occupie Lydia, if there­fore his deliuerie may suffise, be not then hopelesse, for Tymaetes shall you anon haue, although headlesse: and if you shall determine to recompence me for the deed, thinke not but that the stoutest in your Campe, shall die in my debt.

Herewithall three or foure Ruffens, whome he had ap­pointed Instruments for that butcherie, fettle themselues about their businesse: Mazeres also prosecuting the mur­der to effect.

This hearing and seeing the King his Father, who as it were breathing out the sorrowes of his soule, thus sayeth: And maye not mine alreadie sustained wronges, suffise to glut thy sauadge woodnesse, but wilte thou also adde the butcherie of my Sonne, my deare, and only Sonne? that the death of the Childe maye salute the de­cease of the Parent: alas, doe not so, suffer thy crueltie to haue an ende, that my miseries may haue some meane. Thy selfe hauing a Sonne, shouldst be acquaynted with the tender affections of a Father: but if not therefore, yet know that my selfe was once in thy present Dignitie, and thy selfe art ignoraunte of thy following Destinie: wretche that I am, what is past my nowe aduersitie ma­keth me to remember, as no doubt, what is to come thy nowe Prosperitie causeth thee to forget: thinke, think, the Heauens may one daye be to thee, and thy Xenarchus, such and the same as presentlye they are to mee and my Tymaetes, and therewithall consider, what wracke of feli­citie would follow thee a Childlesse Parent: O that thou wouldest, as in troth thou shouldest, applie this not impos­sible possibilitie to thy selfe and thine, then might I bold­lye appeale from my selfe to thine owne sentence, with as­sured hope of my Sonne his safetie.

If therefore, the example of my fall, the vncertaintie of thine owne Fortune, the Supplication of a King, the Peace of thy Countrie, the submission of a Foe, the [Page] intercession of a father, the teares of an old man, the re­gard of Iustice, or the innocencie of Timaetes maye nowe preuaile, with my tōgue I protest it, with my hart I vow it, and mine Act shall performe it, that his raunsome shal be the resignation of mine whole interest, to this my de­tained kingdome.

But if none of these, any of which might be of suffici­encie, neither the Gods that shall punish the tyrannie, nor the world that shall speake of thine infamie, nor the blood that shall crie for vengeaunce against thee, nor thine own guiltie conscience that shall at last accuse thee, if none of these I say, can worke thy flintie hart to a fleshlye sub­staunce, yet knowe that the Lycians not without the assi­staunce of other nations, will, I am sure, vow the last drop of their dearest blood to reuenge such inhumane crueltie: yea pittie thine owne people that shall buy his death ouer dearely.

Cap. 42.

WHen thus much was spoken in vaine (for Tyraunts are the lesse tractable, by how much they are intrea­ted) Tymaetes, rather dying in the greef of his father, then dreading the death wherewithal himself was threatned, with much adoe spake as followeth.

I am (deare father) inioyned an ouer greeuous pen­nance, that being patiently resolued vpon a simple death, doe now also by your impatience liue a dying life, where­by my death is rather doubled than deferred: but (which is more, and which is worse) must I alas, in this extremi­tie, must I hunt for comfortable sayinges to appease your discouraging sorrowes? You are not I knowe aduised howe you enuie my good happe, because not aduertised how you hinder my sweete hope, whiche hope is death, and Death the Salue for all sorrowes, and the Deliue­rer of the immortall Soule from the Prison of this mor­tall [Page] bodie: neither is it the ill Death but the well dy­ing wee are to account of: for not the stifling Halter of Hempe, or sinking pillow of downe, doe in any thing help or hinder our passage to Heauen.

Bee not greeued in that youre Sonne is punished, but bee gladde in that hee hath not deserued suche pu­nishmente: were I guiltie, perhaps my death should disquiet you the lesse, when in that I am innocente you ought to bee quieted the more: as Nature doeth moue you to lamente the death of your Sonne, so let reason learne you the qualitie of your Seede whiche is mortall: if because I am young you wishe my life mighte bee prolonged, I aunswere in not dying olde my Sorrowes are abridged: if you can-not (as perhappes you doe not) disgest the bloodye Tri­umphe of your dishonourable Enemie, than doe not (as no doubte you doe) double his Ambition, with the bootelesse expence of your ouer humble petitions: for thinke not that this Tyraunte, who can not leng­then his owne dayes one momente, canne of himselfe shorten my date one minute, but that the Gods (for so I hope) readie to accept of my soule, haue made him an instrument to separate it from the body.

Wherefore (good Father) seeing that death is both necessarie, and also ouertaketh vs all of necessitie, seeing I auarre the one by triall, neyther maye you auoyde the other by trauarse, with the reuerente duetie of a Sonne I require it, and withoute the partiall affection of a Father I beseeche you to graunt it, that youre im­patience maye not driue those bloodie teares to my harte, whiche (not with a desperate minde I speake it) this butcherlye penaunce shall neuer drawe from mine eyes.

More might he not be suffered to speake, but his head being stroken from off his shoulders, was togeather with his bleeding bodie, at commaundement of the Tyraunt [Page] cast ouer the walles, amongste the sorrowfull Licians to the view of his sowning Father: which dead body of Ty­maetes was anon solemnlye interred, in the accustomed Sepulchers of his Auncestours sometimes Kings of Ly­dia, nere adioyning to Sardis.

Cap. 43.

WYnter was now at hand, and the Licians perceauing themselues rather wasted, then their enemies weari­ried, prepared therefore to breake vp their Siege, inten­ding at the next Spring to haue returned, with all the forces they might possibly leuie.

But in this meane while at Sardis ariued Xenarchus, sonne to the Tyraunt, and Friend, as before, to Tymaetes, who after intelligence had of Tymaetes his death, and Ma­zeres his Trecherie, desirous to be dead with the one, and quit with the other, he attended from thenceforth oppor­tunitie for both: and that so, as the Licians themselues before their departure mighte bee ey-witnesses, that euen Death had not yet dissolued their friendship: and lo, how occasion offered it selfe to this enterprise.

Aphrodite his Sister that shee might there spende her teares, where she dared to haue shead her blood, had (not regarding the daunger of the incamped enemie) escaped out of Sardis, and amongst the Lydian Sepulchers was espied pitifully to passionate her selfe, ouer the Tombe of Tymaetes.

Now to rescue her out of that place and peril, Mazeres that for her loue would haue laboured euen Dis himselfe, desired Xenarchus his assistaunce: the match was made, and only they two alike weponed & vnknown to any, issue out of the Citie to fetche home (as was pretended) A­phrodite.

The selfe same day also, had Xenarchus secretly practi­sed the deliuerie of Atys and Abynados out of Prison, [Page] and through a priuie vault issuing out of the kinges pal­lace, conueied them into the Subburbes: who not min­ding rashly to fall into the handes of the incamped Lici­ans, had now hid themselues amongest the aforesaide Se­pulchers.

When Xenarchus, and Mazeres drewe neere to this place, Xenarchus suddenly betooke him to his weapon, & to Mazeres, demaunding the cause of his so doing he ma­keth this answere:

What Mazeres, dost thou make a question, as ignorāt of a quarrell? or thinkest thou to excuse in wordes, a trea­son already executed in workes? could thy loue towards my Sister make thee disloyall to my friend? and shall not the faith I owed to my friende make thee mine enimie? yes Mazeres yes, though vntill nowe I haue dissembled my griefe for his death, yet this oportunitie hapning, I will not longer suspende reuenge for his wrong: howbeit so would I be reuēged, that neither wish I to be conque­rour, nor yet would I be conquered, onely that we both die of mutuall wounds I desire it, and thou doest deserue it. I know thy courage is haughtie, and my quarrell ho­nest, be therefore venterous in this, as thou art valiant in all thinges else, and condiscente to ioyne in so knight-like a Combate, with so indifferent a Combattant, who ouercomming, or being my selfe ouercommed do assure thee of this comfort, that thy selfe art the last man shall see me lyuing: the reason hereof (if thou seekest a reason) is, the soule of Xenarchus at once laboureth to salute the ghost of Tymaetes, an withall to keepe an Obbit to him with thy life, by whose only meanes his death was pro­secuted, and against whom his blood cryeth vengeance.

To excuse my selfe (replyed Mazeres) by loue, were to accuse loue of homiside, to argue against such your friendship, were the rather to agrauate your enmitie, and to denie the chalenge, were to distrust mine owne man­hoode, so that in excusing I should accuse as I will not, in [Page] perswading I should not disswade as I woulde, and in a­greeing to you I should disagree with you, as I must: but alas my Lord, aduise your selfe better, and deale not so outragiously with him that friendly, not fearefully be­seecheth you of pacience: for if the losse of my life might reuiue Tymaetes, or pleasure you, Tymaetes should liue, and you be pleased, mine owne handes should hasten it, your weapon not hasard it: But seeing it may not so bee, or if my submissiue wordes may not preuent your vnin­treatable furie, then know Xenarchus, that Mazeres is a Knight, no Coward: but were I a Cowarde, yet Co­wardes in like extremities be desperatly valiant, and be­ing inforced to fight, naturally will rather kill then be killed: when, if it should so proue (as in fight the victorie is vncertaine) that by euill hap you perrish one my wea­pon, then alas, howsoeuer it pleaseth you to flout me, or feare me with the promised comfort of your death, wher­in I should conceiue nothing lesse then comfort, & where­of againe and againe I intreate you not to inforce the oc­casion, you may assure your selfe of this comfort from me, that your deade bones shall more persecute me, then your lyuing body can punish me, the one I may not flie, the o­ther I doe not feare: the reason is (if you demaund a rea­son) if my death be not the prise of your blood, yet must I of necessitie forsake Lydia, the which to leaue were intol­lerable, & so forgo Aphrodite, whom not to loue is impos­sible.

Now when Xenarchus would admit no excuses, others then by Combate to discide the discorde, the two knights so valiantly giue the charge ech on the other, that whilst both strike, both seeme rather to shrinke with the blowes then to shun the weapons, either of them shewed enough of courage, neither of them were to seeke of cunning, and fret more with scorne to be wounded, then feele the smart of their woundes.

In few, after many breathings, Xenarchus disaduaun­taging [Page] himselfe by his ouer fearce & desperat fight recei­ued a wound, whereof fainting he falleth to the earth, and then perswading himselfe of no other hope then present death, he charitably forgaue wofull & wounded Mazeres the deede: & constantly imbracing him indeuouring all in vaine to giue succour, desired to be conueied vnto Tymaetes his Tombe, there to offer vp his last gaspe, a sacrifice to his friends ghost: in performance of which his request, Ma­zeres shewed himselfe no lesse dutifull, then dolefull.

Cap. 44.

WHilst perplexed Aphrodite (discheuiled as shee was) washed her Louers Tombe with her lamentable teares, bewayling his vntimely destinie, and esteeming the date of hir owne life ouer dilatorie, lifting vp her flo­wing eyes she espyed Mazeres, supporting thetherwards the imbrued body of her dying brother: at sight whereof, when wepings gaue passage to wordes, shee thus cryeth out.

Now woe, and out alas, woe is me forspoken Aphrodi­te, how hapneth it my deare brother, that I viewe thee a second buriall? and what see I more? doest thou Mazeres, mischieuous Mazeres by a new murder adde to my liuing martirdom? if thou, I say, if thou the tormentor of me, and Traitor to mine, either in respect of y ^e loue thou pretendest to owe me, or in reueng of the hate I protest euer to beare thee, wilt shew me pity by being pitiles, for somuch as the gods seeme deaffe and not to heare me, and the destinies dull and not to helpe me, vse once more thy murtherous weapon to dispatch me of life, that otherwise may neuer be eased of griefe: oh how aptly in one Tombe maist thou bestow three murthers: leaue not (alas) leaue not hap­lesse Aphrodite so vtterly helpeles, that also present death be exempted her succour.

As Xenarchus (for yet he liued) with fainting tounge [Page] endeuoured to pacifie his sister, and acquite his inforsed foe Mazeres of his selfe procured death, Atys and Abyna­dos hyding them selues (as before) amongest the sepul­chers, and hearing those well known names, lamentable tearmes, and the voice of out-crying Aphrodite, partly to assist her vnto whom they supposed Mazeres to offer force, partly to reuenge the death of the curtious knight Tymaetes, and withall to be meete with Mazeres for their owne priuate quarrels, as not a little affrighthed at the noise ran forth to see what had hapned.

But when they perceiued their late deliuerer Xenar­chus, to lie there aliue more then halfe deade, and by him standing their late betraier Mazeres smoaking in bloode, without any further words, they fearsly ran vpon twise-wounded Mazeres, plying him with woundes to whome it wel pleased to dy: who also being thus spead of his deaths wound, & aiming with his dying eyes to gasping Xenar­chus, did with him yeald vp the ghost, either in the bosom of the other.

This new occurrant gaue to Aphrodite fresh occasion, thus to continue her former lamentations, in these words:

What, doest thou yet liue (Aphrodite) long since the beginner, and not yet the ender, or at the least wise the fourth actor in this vnfinished Tragedie? O my deare brother Xenarchus, and (which art more deerer to mee then a brother) my sweete Tymetes, content your selues, yea a verie little while be contented, with these wasted teares, the whole remaine that continuall weepings haue left me, & with these cold & comfortles kisses, the last that euer Aphrodite shal giue you. Neither thinke thou Maze­res, that I deeme thee vtterly vnworthy my weping, that (which hath vndone vs all) diddest esteeme me altogether worthy thy woing, I cannot but lament thee deade, that lyuing could neuer loue thee.

Which saide, bestowing two kisses, on the two Corses, and two hundred on the watered Marbell that inclosed [Page] Tymaetes she forthwith entred the Lician campe, and care­lesse of her own safety, rushing into the Pauilion of y ^e two kinges her fathers enimies, when they rather gased on her beautie, then gessed of her businesse shee disclosed her selfe: and (as much as in her lay) stirreth them vppe [...]o reuenge vppon her Tymaetes his death, for whose onely loue hee had forgone life: Aprodite (saith shee) is as deare to her Father, as was Tymaetes to his, and therefore the reuenge though it be smale, yet it is some­what.

In the meane time whilst she yet spake, in came Atys and Abynados, reporting the pittifull spectacle then to be seene at the Tombe of Tymaetes: to the view whereof the Kinges and Captaines hyed, and after them Aprodite followed. But she perceiuing the gratious father of Ty­maetes to be so farre off, from seeking such reuenge for the death of his Sonne, that he did not onely bewaile bit­terly the deade bodies of Xenarchus, and Mazares, but spake to her so comfortably as if shee had bene his owne daughter, being now the rather ouercome with the sur­charge of this kinde sorrowe, standing a while speech­lesse, and anon sinking downe vppon the deade bodies, did (good Ladie) without any violente acte finishe her life, not vnlamented for, euen of her Fathers eni­mies.

The nexte daie three costlie Hearses were prouided for the three deade bodyes, and whilest the buriall rights were with much businesse in doing at the tragicall Tombe of Tymaetes (for all foure were bestowed in one Tombe) the beseiged Tyrante, not yet knowing what had chaunced, as he stoode on the walles of the Citie, mused at the greate solemnitie then in hande by the Beseigers. But when (after enquirie made) hee vnderstoode the same to be the Funeralles of Xenarchus and Aphrodite his two children, and of Mazeres his fauo­red friende, he presently fell into a desperat frenzie busily [Page] seeking, in that his madnesse, for weapons whereon to perish.

Whereof being preuented, and shut vp safe (as they thought) in his Chamber, the Tyrant impacient of life, when all other meanes failed, swallowed down his throte red burning Coales: & after he had languished certaine dayes in horrible anguish, dyed to the contentment of the most or all, that liued to the comfort of a few or none.

SArdis and therewith whole Lydia, after the death of the Tyrant, what through the remisse negligence of the Ci­lician Garrisons, who being left without a Gouernour would easily admit no gouernement: what through the ready diligence of the Citizens, who gladly laboured to restoore their Countrie from forraine seruitude to won­ted freedome: and what through the politicke conduct of Atys and Abynados, who in the dead night brought the Lician Armies into the Citie, through the same vault whereby themselues had (as before) escaped out of the Ci­tie, was now possessed by the good and rightfull king Ty­maetes his father.

Who being reestablished in his royall dignitie, did a­non with indiferent eares, and and vpright sentence day­ly determine the Controuersies of his people: to which godly exercise, the former warres and troubles, did fur­nish him with more then sufficient of vngodly matter, leauing in manner all things in a confused estate: for new Conquestes do commonly abrogate olde Customes: and when the Soldiour putteth vp his sworde, the Aduocate then put seth vp the coyne.

Amongst many other Controuersies, and complayntes that came then in questiō, this one presently to be handled in the discourse following, I esteeme not vnworthy re­sightall.

Cap. 45.

THe King in walking vppe and downe his Pallace, perceiued an homely Country-man, ma­king oftē proffers to haue spo­ken somwhat vnto him, but e­uermore, at the verie pushe, fearfully staying at y ^e toungs ende, his purposed wordes, which when the good King had a longe time together obserued, him selfe comming to the sillie man, and minding to cut off the simple si­lence of the same his timerous Sutour, spake to him as followeth.

Father (qd. he) mine owne experience teacheth mee, that the Countrie is ouercombersome for vs that bee Courtiors, and thy presence in this place showeth that the Courte is ouercurious to you that be Countrie-men: howbeit let not our Courtlie statelinesse, which we ac­count conuenient for the place, out-dashe thy Countrie bluntnesse, which we esteeme kindely to the person: but if thou hast anie thing to say, let me then vnderstand who hath wronged thy right, that can, and will vndertake to right thy wrong.

When the king with this encouragement, had set the poore-mans tongue at libertie, Philargus (for so was hee called) framed his complaint in this order.

[Page]LEt not my gracious Lorde (sayth Philargus) take offence at the boulde intrusion of so base a person, your Maiesties Subiect, who not finding any one friend to preferre my Sute to your Highnesse, am my selfe in­forced to bee the preferrer, and pleader of a most true ac­cusation against a most false offendor, whose loftie coun­tenance being much, doth carrie out his lewde conscience being more.

For knowe (gratious Lorde) that I finding mine a­bilitie insufficient to fee an Aduocate to attempte an Action, much lesse to holde wagge with so wealthie a defendant as is mine Aduersarie, indeuoured by per­sonall petition to moue, if it had bene possible, my owne pytifull cause before the pitttylesse Magistrates: but (alas) as if distressed pouerty, had bene ouer small punishment to mee otherwise oppressed with wronges, at their verie doores, I founde a certayne scorneful­nesse to infecte euen their Porters: of whome after long businesse, and some-tymes a brybe getting licence to enter the Gates, againe at the Skreenes began my seconde sute, both coyer for intertaynement, and costlyer for iustice: for wanting greater giftes to offer, I found the smaller grace to obtayne, what my Sute? yea both Sute, and speech, and hope to speede. And (which is more) the Seruing-men, Chaumberlaines, and Doore-keepers of these great men, or Magistrates, loo­king for more cappes and knees then mine vnnurtured education could redily affoorde, receiued mine obeisance, without regarde of my businesse: yea they that tooke it for a countenaunce to plucke off the bootes of their Mai­ster, though it a discredit to haue conference with mee so poore a miser. But in trifling the time in thus speaking of the bastard pride of these base braue Fellowes, being (in deed) but Waspes in comparison of Bees who though they buze fearefully, render sometimes honny, I may seeme in friuilous by-matters prolirious to your Maiesty▪

[Page]After many loftie lookes, and churlish checkes of these brybing Groomes, leauing the comfortlesse houses, I at­tended my times in the cold streetes: but now also, whe­ther it were that I met the Maiestrates in merrie talke with my betters, my lamentation came then out of season to interrupt their laughters▪ or that no suche thing hap­ned, yet at the least the very Mule-keepers would shoul­der mee to scilence: or if himselfe chaunced to looke ouer the shoulder (perhaps offended with my monefull plaints) it was either to dismisse me as if Bacchus should answere Codrus, or else to directe mee from Ixion his Wheele to Belides their Tubbes, or (as I might tearme it) from himself that did terrifie mine eyes with lookes, to others that should teare out my hart with Lawe: and yet in the ende nothing at all done, but I vndone: my purse in all thinges making to their Lawe, but their Lawe in no­thing to my purpose: so that if Hell might haue an Hels Hell, my selfe, Wretche, euen on earth haue suffered that Hell

In the end with importunate plying, some of them sha­ked me off with the Uisour of pitie, appointing a daye wherein to heare my cause: but the appointment is vn­performed, the day past, and the hearing yet, and I feare mee euer to come: and why? Not because I wante sor­row whereof to complaine, but Siluer wherewith to corrupt. And (O good Gods) that men should with suche peeuish euasions nourishe their palpable errors, because mine Aduersarie is riche, and Worshipfull, some make it a consequent, that therefore mine Accusation is rashe, and wrongful: so that these men in respecte of their mu­tuall clawing one of an other, are not vnlike may I saye to Mules, or rather to cruell Beares with whome a­mongest themselues, biting is barred: but in respecte of the iustice they should doe vs, not vnlike to the Beas [...]e Hiena within whose eye is contained a Pretious Stone, which neither they for fiercenesse will departe with, nor [Page] we for feare dare attempt to recouer.

Thus mightie men speake the word, and al heare them, when miserable wretches shead their teares, but not any help thē: our Plaints must be, Should, & Would, because men y ^t are vnder-rule, but their Pleas are, Shal, & Wil, because men that can ouer-rule. Our greeuous affectiōs fatigate dull sences, and tire Capacities, but their golden Dum-showes are effectual euen to dimme sightes, and deaffe eares: one and the same course is in vs dilatorie, in them orderly: to vs a Dimission, to them a Decree: for Iudgements against them haue they Errors with them▪ for Sentences Repreeues, and for Repreeues Pardons. But what alas doe we (if we doe aught at all) then seare Hydra her heades, and sweate in Hercules his Perils? plucking vpon vs twentie troubles, by proceeding to one Triall: and though they eate vs as bread, and sell vs for shoes, yet vppon whome should we complaine that either careth, or not correcteth: the Aduersarie so he way down right, wayeth not at all the wrong: the Lawyer so hee hath a fee, disgesteth the foyle, and fathereth the crime on the cause, the Magistrate he sayth, Nole me tangere, & an­gere, least the incarnate God prooue an vntimelye Di­uell.

Thus (may it please your Maiestie) when all were tried, and I was tired, and that they lacked pitie, and I likely to perish, I was by good happe aduertised by some that spake as they spead, to appeale from those officious persons, or adiourning Maiestrates that heare not with­out hire, to the Court and Nobility there who heare such Sutors with more expedition, and helpe them with lesse expences.

This aduise made me hardy, but the accident thereof maketh mee happie, in that your highnesse vouchsafeth the hearing of it in your owne person, which (vnworthie wretche) I durst not so much as in thought to haue hoped for.

[Page] Opheltes (most gratious Soueraigne) Opheltes more fortunate to dignities, than faithfull in his dealinges, is the onely man giuing occasion to this my Complainte: whome being present in your Court, maye it please your Maiestie personally to cal to this Controuersie, that hea­ [...]ing how, and wherin I shall charge him by accusation, [...]e may (I would he might) cleare himselfe by aunswere: for rightfull Causes feare not indifferent Trials.

Opheltes was then called, who appearing, Philargus thus proceeded.

Cap. 47.

THe Cilician Tyrāt lately vsurping in this your king­dome (most gratious Lord) pursuing, for what offence I know not, the death of this vngratefull Gentleman, in­forced him for sauegard of his life, secretly as a Fugitiue to skulke in euery corner: in his wandring he hapned (vn­happily may I say) vppon my poore Cottage, vnto whom vtterly vnknowne to me, and the cloathes on his backe scarcely couering his bare, I gaue for very pitie, suche intertainment as my small abilitie woulde then suffer, plucking off his olde ragges, and putting on him newe Russets.

Now whether it were, that despaire to regaine the e­state he lately had forgon made him resolute, or feare to goe farther and speede worser, diligent, or that necessitie made him vertuous being naturally vitious, I know not, but this I found, that shortly he setled himselfe with such towardnesse to our countrie Affaires, and homely fare, that the best husband-man was not more cunning at his worke, nor the worst Hine lesse choise of his meat: so that finding him more diligent than a Seruaunt, and no lesse dutifull than a Sonne, by the one I receiued commoditie, in the other I conceiued comfort: such was poore Ophel­tes who then did not shame to be my seruaunt, but suche [Page] is not prosperous Opheltes that now doth skorne to be my sonne in law. And yet, though his present Honour hath altered his former honestie, this is the man, and the selfe same Opheltes, vnto whome not hauing a Coate to his backe, Coyne in his purse, Foode for his belly, or Couer­ture for his head, I gaue both Apparell, Monie, Meate, and Harbour.

And more than so, I haue, or rather, I feare me, I had but one only Childe a Daughter, whome Opheltes long wooed, at length wone, and with my consent did wedde: howbeit, wretched Wenche, many a lustie Youth, and riche Francklines sonne in seeking her beautie (such as it was) togethers with her inexorable loue, lost their vnre­garded labour: only Opheltes had the happe to make her an vnhappie Wife. Yea, my dotage extended yet a degree farther, so well did I thinke of the man, that vtterlye dis­possessing my selfe, I wholie possessed him of mine intiere substaunce: neither did I soone recant what now too late I repent, but for the time was rather tickled with a vain ioye, seeing him honestly to encrease his wealth, hartily to intreate me, and husband-like to vse my Daughter his Wife.

But no extremitie hath eternitie as the worlde turned to better, so this Wretche changed to worser: for no soo­ner was the Tyraunt, his Foe, deade, and your Maiestie, his Friend reseazed of your Roiall Diademe, but that he suddenlye made sale of almost all that was ours, and by your Highnesse means, and my monie recouered his own: since which time much haue we heard of Opheltes nowe the exquisite Courtier, but nothing at all of Opheltes the late expert Carter: pardon me (I beseeche your Maie­stie) that notwithstanding all other iniuries, woulde not thus speake to his disgrace, did hee not still prose­cute mee with Disdaine, whiche euen Wretches disgest not.

There is in this Citie a stately and secrete Courtizan [Page] called Phaemonoe, a faire dame in countinance, but a foule diuell in conuersation, aboūding in riches, but abandoned of honestie, whose lasciuious daliances (as since my re­paire hither I haue bene tolde, and my selfe in part canne testifie) hath so farre estranged Opheltes from the dutie of an husbande, that by circumstances it may be intended, he hath not so much as once remembered his Wife: vnto whom since his departure, hee hath not voutchsafed suc­cor, sight, or sending too.

Mine owne pinching neede, my Daughter her pitifull lamentations, and his vnkinde absence from vs both, rou­sed vp mine aged Limbes, vnwieldye God wot for suche iournies, to seeke after him whome vnwitting to vs wee had lost, and vnwilling to himselfe in the ende I founde, (if to loose an egge, and fynde a Cockatrice may be tear­med a finding): for in very troth, Opheltes was so farre off from being founde the same Opheltes hee lately was, that when hee with many surly lookes, sterne words, and scoffing aunsweres had dismissed mee his presence, as a dispargement to his acquaintaunce, I for the tyme not trusting mine owne Eyes, began also to make a doubtfull pawse, in acknowledging an vndoubted person, vntill at length, I perceiued it to fare with me as with the poore Sparrow, that hatcheth her owne destruction. Where­fore minding with pacience to beare this wrong, and brooke my losse, I retourned home to my comfortlesse house: But here (alas) a greater woe had almost be­refte me my wittes, Alcippe, woe am I, my Daughter Alcippe was lacking, and yet still is missing, shee (what else should I imagine) impatient of suche causelesse vn­kindnesse, hath (God graunte my feare bee false) eyther secretlye wrought her own distruction, or else at the best, which is badde ynough, for euer abandoned me and mine house, as the memoratiue Springes that a fresh should flow to her sorrowes: by thus much your Maiestie maye conceaue more. If therefore this man his treacherous [Page] Ingratitude deserueth to be punished, or mine vnsuppor­table Calamities be worthie of pitie, lette then Iustice recompence his mallace, and mercye releeue my my­serie.

Philargus thus concluded, Opheltes could not auoid the Accusation, and the king in this wise proceeded to se [...]tence.

Cap. 48.

J Haue (Philargus) giuen eare, and will anon giue ease, otherwise Iustice should be lesse, which ought to be so much, thā an Intermediū to my scepter: for whilst we rule with iustice we retaine the Tittles of kings, if not, we re­couer the names of Tyrantes: in what therefore may we better discharge such our Charge, than in brideling the iawes of the mightie Oppressor, and in wiping teares from the eyes of the poore-man oppressed? for myne owne part I haue alwaies caried this opinion, that not to do iu­stice to others is to bring my selfe in danger of iudgemēt: knowing that the Prince ought to be the peace of his peo­ple, to the Orphant a parent, to the succourlesse a refuge, to good men a Protector, to ill men a terror, and to al men indifferent, who in respect of the cause shoulde reiecte the person, giuing to euery man that whiche is his, and for this cause are wee called Gods.

Euen this Preamble, Opheltes, ought to be fearefull to thee that are faultie to thy selfe: fie gracelesse man, fye, doth not almost euery post in my Palace florish with these sayings? Doe as thou wouldest be done vnto: Shew pie­tie to thy Parents, and loue to thy kindred: Haue peace with men, and warre with Uices: Bee faithfull to thy friendes, and to all men iust: yet by so muche hath thy lewdnesse digressed from these Lessons▪ by how much vn­like workes differ from like wordes. But out of a legion I will only single a leash, & those are, thine Ingratitude, [Page] Disdaine, and Adulteries.

If, Opheltes, I may say him vngratefull that is ready to receiue and carelesse to repaye, and him gracelesse whome the gentle [...]ane of a Friend of a Debtor maketh an Enemie, what maye I then saye yll enough to thee? who diddest franckly receaue without loane, but doest falsely requite without loue: forgetting that Curtesies receaued by tale should be returned in grosse: that to bee gratefull for a little is a preparatiue to more: that still to bee thankefull and confesse a benefite, is still to strike from off the skoare with our Benefactoures▪ and in troth, then to render thankes and giue faire speeches, nothing is deliuered with lesser charge, or recaued with greater acceptance.

But certain it is, a seconde Fiend hath brooded this first Furie, proude Disdaine I meane, whome false Ho­nour hath begotten in dishonourable Bastardie: for why, that same Honour hath an imperfect, or rather a prodigi­ous bodye, wherein Humilitie is not ingrafted a member, whiche wanting, Promotion in an euill man is contrarye to Preferment, because rysing to Honour hee falleth from Uertue: and dishonourable is Dignitie vsed vndiscreetelye, but to bee glorious and not Uain-glorious, to haue power and to wante Pride, not with too muche austeritie to prouoke hate, nor with too muche alacritie to procure contempt, but in all thinges to affecte a meane, is honourable in respecte of the man, and honest in respeccte of his maners▪ contrariwise, to haue the best degree and the basest minde, the maiestie of a Prince and the manners of a Pesaunt, a conquering tongue and a cowardlye hande, muche prattle and no proofe, outwarde gra­uitie and inwarde lightnesse, a white heade, and a greene hart, high Authoritie, and vndiscreet Gouern­ment make Honour mosterous, and contrarie to it selfe. To thee therfore, Opheltes, not vnaptly may I allude the [Page] Fable of the Asse, who carrying on his backe the Image of Isis, and seeing the people to fall downe and worship, forgetting his holy burden supposed himselfe to be so ho­noured, and therefore in a brauerie began to yerke out at his Driuer, because as the rest he did not reuerence: but by that time his Maister had wel cudgeled his hide, the foolish Asse could then remember that to Isis, not to an Asse such honours appartained: euen so (Opheltes) thou that doest carie the Image, but not the Saint, the Uisour of honour, but not the vertues of honour, to rebate from thy vainglorious conceit in carying of honorable Titles, art by greeuous correction with the Asse to be taught, y ^e wor­thie Titles without verteous Conditions are but as Pi­ctures, in respect of the Persons. Think not much that so grosely I compare an Asse to a Gētleman, but know that such disdainfull Gentrie is worthye so worthlesse a com­parison.

Could Philargus whom thou hast made poore with thy wrongs, poison thee with his words? or was his sight to thee a Serpēt, by whom thy self wert adopted a Sonne? If so (as thou shouldest think nothing lesse then so) then neither admitting benefites, and forgetting such aliance, tel me, Opheltes, is it sufferable thou shouldst be more cruell then a Monster, or lesse ciuile then a man? the fiercest Monster is familier with Monsters of the same kind, and what art thou for a mā, that thou shouldst be fastidious of the acquaintaunce of men? If thy brauery could not haue brooked his beggerie, at the worst, a secret Releefe might haue dispatched a bashful Begger: or if couitousnes hard­neth thine hart, yet diddest thou degenerate from a Ny­gard, in not shewing a courteous looke where thou woul­dest not bestow a charitable almes, seeing it is vsuall to euery pinche-penie rather to vaile three Bonettes, then with one halfe-penie to aduauntage a Begger. But (wicked man) Disdaine it is that hath transformed thee from a man to Diuell, otherwise thou wouldest haue [Page] remembred, that neuer any man lost by being humble, or that anie euer wone by being haughty: neither haddest thou forgotten, that as Poore-men haue want to exercise their patience, so Rich-men haue wealth to practise their charitie: which lacking, horrible is that Audiat wherein such a Rich-man is Accomptant.

Thou shouldest haue thought (and the rather by thine owne experience) that although wee flourish to day we may fall to morrow, and as Stage-players chaunge our partes from the Kinges Scepter to the Beggers Scrip: that the dispysed may rise, and the dispiser may fall: naie admit that Fortune, the common flatterer, should still fa­uour, yet what else gayneth the disdaynefull person? but this, that his superiours point at him in the streetes, his inferiours giere at him in corners, his equalles figura­tiuely do ride him, and whosoeuer doth feare him not one doth friende him: the best way therefore to be rich is to dispise riches, & the meane to be glorious is to contemne glorie: for he that is neither proude in wealth, nor im­pacient in want, is poorely rich, and richly poore,

As for the pompe of the worlde, and the peoples fauour it is nothing else then a smoake, and vanishing Ayer: and as Snow beginneth and endeth in water, so mā, how big­ly soeuer he braue it, began in earth and shall end where he began: seuen foote of ground is alowed to the King, and the like quantitie alotted to the Begger, and both the one and the other putrefie in the graue: though wee lacke nothing in sight, yet haue we nothing in certainety, seeing all thinges be transitorie, and our selues mortall. Where are the gra [...]e Senatours, the wealthy Cytizens, the wise Philosophers, the famous Oratours, the valiant Captaines, the deified Princes, and amiable Ladies? are they not all conuerted to vnsauerie Donghils, or vtterly consumed to dust? do they not feede wormes in their Cof­fens that breade wormes in their carcases? looke into their Sepulchers whether it bee possible to discerne the [Page] Maister from the Slaue, the Rich-mā from the Begger, the King from the Subiect, the Champion from the Co­ward, the Ladie from the Beldam, the foule from the faire or one from an other.

If such be our end, as such it is, if our felicities here be generally subiect to Casualities, & our flesh in the graue suffereth indifferently Corruption, with what reason thē do we dispise those through Pride, betwixt whom & vs is no differēce in the pit? sauing y ^t the poore leaue not behind him like contentions for their heyres, or carrie with them like pampered Carcases for the wormes, nor commonly like daungers for their soules, because vnto whom most is committed by him most is omitted, howbeit with him it is most rekoned: when if the account fall not out order­ly, what doth it aduantage to haue liued in delices & dig­nities? when that which is mortall shalbe tumbled into a hole, & that which is immortal be tormented in hel: where the issue shall be not of Riches but of Righteousnes, not of costly Decking, but of charitable dealing. Thus seest thou, Opheltes, that in prosperitie to be secure is daunge­rous, but at any time to be disdainful odious, that honour standeth not without humilitie, that humilitie teacheth a man without ouersight to haue of himselfe an insight, & that in a poore-man it is gratefull, in a richmā glorious.

It resteth now of thine incestious and incontinent life, wherein I will be short, because the same wickednesse is generally had in such detestation, that shoulde not I re­proue it, the beastlinesse of the fact it selfe might impugne it: for who is he that wanteth a parramtorie condēnation against a violator of marriage? Wherefore thus to con­clude, seeing, Opheltes, that the now calme spreading thy sayles in the broadest Seas may not incite thee to graty­tude, neither the passed Storme that inforced thee to creepe vnder Philargus his Lee dehorte thee from dys­dayne, nor yet the dishonour pursuing the offence deter thee from adulterie, that I maye therefore, amende [Page] by iustice, what is helpeles by intreaty, this is my Sen­tence: That Philargus (in lieu of his losse) be presently pos­sessed of the one halfe of all y ^t is thine, & the rest to be confis­cate at my pleasure, vnlesse within one yeare next thou safely bring foorth Alcippe thy wife, his daughter: wher­in fayling, to thee I adiudge perpetuall banishment.

Poore Philargus, forthwith enioyed the benefit of this sentence, & the king finding by further conference & trial, y ^t he neither wanted Gentrie to match with his grauety, nor yet discretiō to deale in matters of estate, after a short time, aduanced him to high Offices in publique gouern­ment. In whome, then profiting with double prayse, that is, by wisedome which euermore commendeth it selfe, and Authoritie which vnto whom soeuer it hap­neth, wise or witlesse, neuer wanteth fauorers, or at the leastwise flatterers, was verefied this saying, wisdome without riches, and authoritie is as a Diamonde, ra­ked vp in a donghill. It followeth now, that somwhat be said what in this meane while became of Alcippe, and al­so what afterwardes befell to hir, Opheltes & Phaemonoe.

Cap. 49.

JMmediatly after that Philargus was (as before) depar­ted from home to seeke after Opheltes, Alcippe for the same cause left also her fathers house, & came vnto Sardis: where vnderstanding of her husbandes common haunt to Phaemonoe, she got her selfe by meanes into her seruice, that so at the least, shee might beholde him by stealth, whome onely she ought to haue held by right: howe often (good soule) did she inwardly deuoure her teares with pa­tience (a rare patience, and in her sex a blacke Swanne) whilest standing vppon her owne vnworthynesse, and to her selfe then seeming ouer simple a wife for so sur­lie an husbande, shee neither durste hazarde to dys­close her selfe, nor yet was so happie to be acknowleged [Page] of him, for a Fly was not then an Egles flight, Opheltes not stouped but to Phaemonoe: as for Alcippe, being in his eie but as a Sipher in Augurisme, shee might come to him vnregarded, and passe from him vnremembred: yet wanted she not pacience to suffer his vnkinde prankes, nor diligence to further with her Mistresse his vnwarrā ­ted pastime, yea so farre as &c. extended: so that conten­ting her selfe with part and not contending for the princi­pall, she sticked not vpon the Substance, but was satisfied with y ^e shadow, Phaemonoe had the game, Alcyppe naught else but the gase: all which (in respect of the necessitie) she did gladly view in silence, as dreading otherwise, to lose the aduauntage of that sorrow.

But when (as before is saide) Philargus had brought Opheltes in displeasure with the king, and discredit with the people, & that his surfited Prodigalitie was through­ly purged with a coinlesse Uomit, it came now to passe, that Phaemonoe her loue did suddenly labour of a Con­sumption, his new want disabled him to pay for his shot, and her old wont disalowed him to runne on the scoore: yea and that with such contemptious coynesse, and vn­kinde disdaine did she handle him, that had not will vtter­ly ouer-ruled his wit, euen such her entertainemēt, might easily haue allaied the heat of his inordinate passions, and staied the frenzie of his madding dotage.

The which notwithstanding, the miserable man (and the more miserable in respect of this his disalowable affe­ction, then in that beggery had brought him on his knees, and the king his sentence of banishment, stoode presently vpon execution) would by no repulse surcease to houer, where by no request (made hee neuer so fayre a pitch) hee coulde seaze.

Now with the increase of his lawlesse desire, ensued the decrease of the lymited yeare, wherein he was either to bring sorth Alcippe, or fayling thereof to forsake his countrie: what remedy then remaineth but of two euils [Page] to make choise of the lesser? but could Opheltes so do? no, his vnruly humour had brought him so far out of square, that he rather doth hazard to be hailed to death (for death was insident to his tariance) out of the slaunderous house of a shamelesse harlot, then with assurance of life, to vse the benefit of the more fauourable sentence which was ba­nishment: & yet (inchaunted wiser) what else did he with y ^e price of his deadly aduenture? thē buy the emptying of his eyes of restlesse teares, and the sundering of his hart with continuall sighes, at her handes, & in her presence, whose wilfull coynesse was such, that neither woulde shee heare him patiently, nor answere him but proudly.

The yeare was now finished, longer thē which Ophel­tes was not to make aboade in Lydia, when Phaemonoe, not brooking the cumbersome haunt of so beggerly a Guest, with outragious tearmes flatly forbadde him her house, threatning otherwise, to procure against him the execution of the king his Sentence▪ wherefore withdraw­ing him selfe into a solitarie place, with bitter tearmes a­mong, he complaineth in this maner.

The time was, yea (vngratious Cast-away) the time was, that bearing an hart vndismaied of banishment, thou diddest also find hap, vnlooked for, to recouer thy libertie, but I that without crauing in ayde of any, could then re­couer my selfe from the trecherie of Fortune, am not now by the assistance of any Fortune, to be rescued from the tyranny of mine owne folly: such a god is loue, or rather such a diuell is lust that onely is strong to my discomfi­ture, & wanteth not force to drawe me, euen willingly to distruction: but (for of thinges before hande done I am priuie, & of an action already in framing wel may I pre­nosticate) as moisture is insident to water, so is mishap an appendant to my destinie: yea it is euident (I say e­uident, because as heretofore my life, so at this instant my death shall affirme my latter Astrologie infallable) that the fauourable Aspect of no Planet, hath bene qual­lefying [Page] to the luckles Starre of my Natiuity, and there­fore haue I founde all fortunes, preuailing to the drifte of this Catastrophe: an ende (in deede) base and beast­ly, when the matter thereof is Lust, the meane a Strum­pet, and the manner a violen [...]e stopping of myne owne breath. But what shouldest thou longer liue (Opheltes) hauing so good oportunitie, to performe the prodigious execution of thy Destinie, and by one death to ende infi­nite sorrowes? In saying this, and whilest he resolute­ly hastned to haue strangled himselfe, by good happe in came Alcippe: who discrying the melancholy pretence of her miserable husbande, and seing the dispayre where­into hee was then falling, with vapored eyes offereth this kinde duety, to the onely Seeds-man of all her sor­rowes, saying.

Cap. 50.

JT is (qd. shee) contrarie to man-hood, euen in extre­myties of euils not to bee constant, but wilfully pee­uish, and peruerse is hee that forgoeth comfort, whilest hee forsaketh counsell: although the man bee tearmed foole-hardie that dareth to followe the aduyse of a wo­man, yet beleeue mee (Opheltes) as it is not incre­dyble, but that a Mouse may gnawe a Lion out of a ginne, so is it not impossible, but that I may at the least, giue intermission to thy griefe.

Long did I practise thy cure, but therein performe no other then myne owne care, in preferring thy boote­lesse loue to mercylesse Phaemonoe, but I nowe finde, and I woulde thou couldest also feele, that longer to bleede of that vaine, is to leaue thy body bloodlesse, thy heade witlesse, and thy friendes hopelesse of thy recouery: what meanest thou, Opheltes, to straine out a gnat and to swal­low vp a Cammell? tearming her vnreasonable in hating thee so deadly that loueth her so dearly, and not espying thy owne greater madnesse, in louing her so dearly that [Page] hateth thee so deadly.

It might haue suffised for a rebuke once to haue inter­medled with a Curtizan, and for a reproach great enough that so badde a woman shoulde blushe at thy companie, without thus dying a Reprobate, by still dooting in thy passed, and purposed wickednesse: leaue of therefore, if not not for shame, yet to auoyde sinne: and knowe that then are the gods seuere in correcting when men are se­cure in offending: yea (if for nothing else) yet therefore shoulde Opheltes bee weaned from lewdnesse, because Phaemonoe is wedded to lightnesse: thou wert not her first choyce, neyther shalt thou bee her last change: for the loue of an harlot is not so tyed to any one, but that the same lyeth open to euerie one (Beggers and Ba­nished-men by prouiso excepted) and thou being in the same predicamente, art therefore vnder the same Ex­ception concluded: wherfore it is meere follie in thee to looke for other of custome, or to hope for better of curtesie.

But whylest our wordes be not plausible, our counsels seeme not profitable: and with strong reasons to resist loue, were, perhaps, to labour my selfe mad with reason: For such loue (if I may so mis-tearme lust) as it is easlier receiued, so is it hardlier disgested then the Taint Bore­stes, that swallowed a Myte swelleth a Monster: if there­fore, Opheltes, thou wilt not be declaimed frō Phaemonoe it resteth then y ^e Phaemonoe bee reclaimed to thee: which to contriue asketh cost, for kindly it is for such Hawkes to soare from an empty Fist: but Opheltes lacketh, will you say, and is therefore helples, but Alcippe lyueth, do I say, & therefore not hopelesse, she liueth, in deede, to profit thee with a triple benefit, to restoore to thee thy liberty & to re­couer for thee the moity of thy liuing, to which only Rise is Phaemonoe in sequens. Admit therefore Alcippe to stand thee in this steede, whose patience, I know, is so li­able to thy passions, that to worke thee a second delight, she will indure be it a seconde deuorse.

[Page]At the naming of Alcippe did Opheltes sigh, and tur­ning his face letteth fall plenty of teares, making at the lēgth vnto her, whom not yet he knew to be Alcippe, such answere.

The tydinges (saith he) are most ioyfull to Opheltes that Alcippe is yet lyuing, but [...]eeing it is currant in ech mans mouth, and also confirmed in mine owne mind, that my falshood towards her doth rather merit a most shame­full death, then the acceptance of such vndeserued assi­stance, I am much more prone to [...]atefie the first doome by myne owne handes, then apte to receiue the latter grace by her helpe: wherefore I beseech thee to declare to Alcippe, that dying I wish vnto her all good fortune, whō only I haue made altogether infortunat: but know that thy counsell as touching Phaemonoe, is like to an af­ter-showre that falleth when flowres, and rootes are al­readie wythered: I am determyned to die, and my de­t [...]rmynation shall not bee chaunged, for why, to liue vn­exiled and wealthely shoulde bee much lesse pleasinge to men, then to die from inwarde vexation and outwarde infamie. Onely bee assured (gratious Damsell) that I account this the last, and not the least of my miseries, not to bee able to recompence thee for thy passed and present kindnesse, for the which the heauens graunt thee, what I, besides thankes, haue not to giue thee.

Cap. 42.

ALcippe not a little discouraged at this wilfull aun­swere of his, as her last refuge, made her selfe knowne to her husbande, whom with hartie teares, shee intreateth to vse her if not as a wise (of which name shee sayde her selfe vnworthy) yet at least-wise, as an instru­ment to discharge him of the kinges Sentence, and as the meane whereby to recouer his extented landes, & sus­pended libertie.

[Page]To be short, Opheltes now acknowledging her, seemed confounded with shame, and in conclusion being wholye conquered with the consideration of her so rare patience, policie, constancie, and (which was not inferiour to y ^e rest) her beauty, confessed his falshood, repented him of his fol­lie, craued pardon for both, and vowed following loyaltie: and herevpon from wondering and weeping, fell they to kissing and imbracing.

In which mean while, Phaemonoe (by euill aduenture) entered the place, who perceiuing their mutuall teares, & admiring their vnusuall familiaritie, whether it were offended therewithall, or fearing least Opheltes, after the time prescribed for his banishment, being taken in her house mighte so turne her to damage, or that iealousie, frenzie, or malice incensed her so to doe, it shall not mat­ter, but howsoeuer it happened, she railed so out of square vpon Opheltes with wordes, and fared so roughly agaynst Alcippe with blowes, that (after much sufferaunce) he not able longer to indure the one, or disgest the other, his Melancholie being nowe conuerted to Choler, whilste Phaemonoe thus persisted to outrage, did in his furie stab her to the hart, in such sorte that of the same wound shee presently died.

Immediatelye after the deede done Opheltes was ap­prehended, who as principall, and Alcippe as Accessarie were brought before Philargus, then being in great Ho­nour, and a Iusticer in Sardis: who vnderstanding of the fact, and (with greefe ynough) acknowledging the offen­dors, because he would not be thought ouer-forward in doing iustice against Opheltes, neither to slack a Iusticer in reuenging the death of Phaemonoe both (as before) his enemies, but chiefly because nature would not suffer him to sit in iudgement against Alcippe, his owne, and only child, with a hart therefore melting with sorrow hee dis­missed both Prisoners his presence, referring their cause to be determined by the king in his own persō: Philargus [Page] (good old man) in the meane while, by so muche suspen­ding his ioy in that he had found his Daughter, by howe much he feared to loose her againe, being now to be arai­ned of murther.

But the matter being thus brought before the king, vp­on y ^e ripping vp of al Circumstances, the death of Phaemo­noe was though worthie her dishonest life, Opheltes and Alcippe were acquited by the king, and he receiued again into fauour, Philargus is made a ioyfull father of Alcippe, Opheltes is reconciled to him and inriched, and euerye thing amisse was now amended.

BUt that I may now reduse your memories, and retire your eares to the historie whereof I principallye in­treat, that is, of the cause and euent of Atys and Abynados their Quest and trauels, you are to remember that Arba­ces the olde Meade and his Companion, leauing behind them in their place Sorares and his Assirians, are (as be­fore is sayd) escaped out of the barren Iland, frō whence they safely ariued at Sarmatia: and from thence againe, as pittying the distresse wherein they had left Sorares and his company, and for their deliuery they are alreadye re­sailed to the barren Iland: vnto whom and to Sorares, Atys and Abynados whome we are now to ship from Lydia, hapned as immediately doth now followe.

Cap. 52.

AFter that Atys and Abynados had made lōg abode in Lydia, hauing receaued great inter­tainmente and Giftes of the king, they shippe themselues and their companye, cheefelye directing their Course to­wardes Sarmatia: but as they had no absolute knowledge there to finde those persons for whome they sought, so in this their sayling they did not precisely obserue any direct course, but entered now an [...] than into such adiacent Seas, Creekes & Channels, into which likelihoods, profit, pleasure, or necessitie did carrie them. So that in riding vpon the floud Tanais, which doth diuide the Scythians from the Sarmatians, thy coast by a ve­ry pleasaunt and dilectable Ilande: here did they lande their men, in purpose to haue taken in fresh water, and o­ther prouigion. But farre had they not forraged frō their ship, disorderly roming (as vnsuspitious of that whiche hapned) when the Ilanders who from the next mountains had espied their ariuall, lying a great number in ambush­ment, had sodainly inclosed them in on euery syde, their barbarous darts and weapons for the most part, bearing (to the great terror of the Assirians) the bloody tokens of some very late slaughter.

[Page]What cold the Assirians now doe, or rather what did they not that valiant and couragious men shoulde haue done? many they slew, and some of them were slaine: but in the ende, the multitude of the Ilanders preuailed a­gainst the manhood of the Assirians: who being thus cap­tiuated were anon committed to bands, and than brought before the Gouernesse or rather Goddesse of those Ilan­ders.

For such was the superstitious errour of the people in those idolatrous dayes, that whosoeuer had extirped Ty­raunts, ciuiled Nations, confounded Monsters, or else by prowes, wisedome, Inuention, or by any extraordinarie good, profited any common Wealth and Countrie, the same liuing was magnified for more than a man, and dead canonised a God: so that easier was it thē for men to make Gods, then for such their Gods to make men.

By this meanes therefore it came to passe, that those Ilanders had alreadie in deuosion, deified their Gouer­nesse Dircilla: for such as was Pallas to the Grecians, and I­sis to the Aegyptians, so and suche was she to this people: and albeit yeres (for now was she very aged) had wrought a naturall decay in her beautie being yet more then ordi­dinarie, neyther place, time, nor troubles had so empay­red the Maiestie of her lookes, or impugned the magnani­mity of her hart, but that armed much to the Amazonian fashion, she seemed more warlike thē Penthisilea, or rather more terrible then Bellona her selfe.

In such wise issuing out of her portatiue Tent, after she had twise or thrise shaked her yrefull Launce, in signe of her vnappeasable furie against the Assirians, shee lefte vnto the wretched Captiues the same comfort, as if they had presentlye behelde the heade of Medusa: and as the fiercenesse of those her lookes had ynough of feare, so the deliuerie of these her wordes had nothing of hope.

Are (qd. she, to the Ilanders) the bands, and captiuitie [Page] of these vngratious people sufficient (thinke you) to war­rant your safetie? or haue I pleasure (suppose you) to see their bodies yet breathing, vpon whose Ghosts also, were it possible, we should doe execution? was I yesterday de­ceaued in those Assirians whom I commaunded you to execute, as the Espials and Agents of some other their Accomplicers? or thinke you by intercepting of them, and these you haue disappointed their Confederacie? no, no, be ye assured that the expedition of their Treasons, doth not only consist vpon these two Companies: esteeme therefore all haste ouer little, vntill you haue mingled their blood with the bowels of the others, their Explo­rors: otherwise it will come to passe, and that before you looke for it, but not sooner than I (experienced of their treacheries) feare it, that these Rouers and Robbers of y ^e whole world, being by their tyrannous countrimen (al­readie perchaunce at point of their ariuall) rescued out of our hands, shal stand them in no small steed to the cutting of your throates, and the conquest of this our Iland.

Haue you forgot how yester-day, euen the sentence of death could not pluck down the courage of their Compa­nions? and why? forsooth reason had they to hope, that ex­pected this helpe: and marke you not also howe the care­lesse countinaunces of these our Thrals, doe not so muche argue a contempt of death, as the like hope that their ar­med Confederates are already marching to their rescue? once againe therefore I say, let your hast in putting them to death, cut off their hope in purposing vpon life: of lyfe sayd I? yea and hauing made a massacre of your liues, and pray of your Countrie, to suruiue you in the one, and succeede you in the other.

To Atys Abynados, and to the rest this her Sentence seemed no more seuere, then to be charged of Confedera­cie with before executed Assirians strange: but therin to haue bene guiltie or not guiltie was all one, it suffising to Dircilla her wrath, and their deaths onely that they were [Page] Assirians: vnto whiche people (the occasion why here­after following) she had vowed her selfe a deadly enemie.

Cap. 53.

WHilst she was yet speaking, diuers of the Ilanders (as purposing a generall slaughter) in great fury ran to a Caue not far of, and anon return, rigorously driuing be­fore thē certain Assirians, whom the day before they had taken forraging in the Iland, and of whose deaths Dircilla their Gouernesse, had before giuen them in commaunde­ment.

But the Ilanders, being naturally pittiful, altogeather vnacquainted with sheading of blood, and dwelling as it were in a world by themselues, had neuer till then seene Shippe or Straunger: and therefore, had not the fierce words and wrath of Dircilla more preuailed, then the in­humanitie, or malice of those harmelesse people, the Asse­rians had not only not bene assailed and captiuated, but al­so, such admiration rid their beauty and brauery strike in to the harts of the idolatrous Ilanders, that eyther they had easily beleeued them to be Gods, or at the least-wise durst not haue made proofe of their manhoods. But Dir­cilla commaunding, whose wordes to them were as Ora­cles, they feared not to enterprise, were it neuer so rare, or great an Aduenture: only herein (as moued with com­passion) they had borrowed of their vsuall obedience, in that they had not, according to her commaundement the day before, done execution vpon those firste-ariued Assiri­ans.

Wherfore Dircilla, contrary to her thought, seeing them yet liuing whose death she had commaunded, one while firing her froward eies vpon the miserable Captiues, and anone casting her frouning lookes vppon the Ilanders, after she had, with sharp reprehentions, re [...]uked them of disobedience, and reproued them of foolish pitie, & that her [Page] wordes had now made them altogether as pittilesse, as her owne purpose was cruel, she caused both the first, and last company of the Assirians to assend the toppe of a steepe Rocke, from whence to be floung downe headlong, was the death wherevnto they were all adiudged, by this an­grie Virago.

Great was the generall lamentation that the Assirians then made, and no lesse the admiration that either compa­nie had of this their heauie, and vnexpected meeting, and that amongst so barbarous a people: howbeit of all this time, on neither part was any acquaintance takē, for they all seemed straungers one to another. But anon, as the friend imbraceth his friend, and ech man encourageth his fellow, with patience and constancie to leaue his life, and as Atys and Abynados plie them, now to one place, & then to an other, still with godly exhortations, strengthening the [...]ting courages of some their fearefull Countrie­men, amōgst the first-ariued Assirians, they espied Sorares their father. But, alas, the maner of this their dismal me­ting was so much the more lamentable, by howe much more the same might haue bene ioyfull, had they not bene crossed by this misfortune: there might one see y ^e Sonnes to want all tokens of gladnesse in saluting their Father, and the Father furnished with all signes of heauinesse in intertaining his Sonnes: and the skilfullest Painter in making a seuerall Counterfeit to euery sorrowfull coun­tinaunce, either should haue ben grounded in varietie, or else haue painted more then one Agamēnon, vnder a vale, [...]emon [...] the death of Iphigenia. Yea so pitifull were the confu [...]ed Cries, & this doleful Spectacle, euen to the Ilā ­ders themselues, that moued with compassion, they made no hast at all to do execution, as was the seuere commaun­dement of their Gouernesse.

But Dircilla only constant in her crueltie, & the rather, when she perceaued the ministers of her wrath thus sud­denlye enclined to mercy, being set in a double chaufe, [Page] did single out from either company of the Assirians two of the most aged persons: and then hardly with-holding her Fist from their faces, and her Lawnce frō the bosoms of her own people, vsed these following speeches.

Cap. 54.

HOw farre off (foolish and vngratefull people) I am e­uen from any tirannous thoughte whereof it seemeth you haue me in ielosie, the self-witnesse of these two aun­cient murderers, may happily fit me with a sufficient pur­gation: for as I perswade my selfe that al Assirians ge­nerally are fleshed with blood, so I easily coniecture that these two, in respect of their yeres, should be parties, or at the least wise priuie to those murthers whereof I shall now speake: yea, although a godlesse life hath commonly a gracelesse ende, yet it may be that these olde Hou [...]sides (whom if you shall spare, a natural death will shortly dis­patche) will at the last penitentlye confesse, what at the least I perticularly expresse. But if it fall out againste my guesse, yet either shal I make the very name of an Assiri­an odious in your eares, or by reporting my iust quarrell, proue my self guiltlesse of tiranny. Omitting therefore to be curious, as touching the trecherous ariual of y ^e Assirian Armies into Media my natiue countrie, vnder conduct of their butcherous Emperor Ninus, it shall suffise that my weeping eyes somwhat easing my hart, shal anon licence my toung, in few, to touch with what bestial cruelty they ordered their bloody Conquest. These mine [...] [...]ehelde the roiall Pauilion of king Farnus my Father consumed with fire, which way soeuer I looked the countrey abrode was al a flame: here mighte I see an heape of Meades newly slaughtered, there the Assirians to perseuer in sleying: this Uillain murthereth a Matron ouer the dead body of her sonne or husband, y ^t Ruffen haileth, by her faire heare, some noble Uirgin to rauishmēt, death or captiuity: [Page] one sundereth the impotent olde-man in sporte, an other [...]eaeth the strong-membred yong-mā in dispight: yea in euerie corner was such murdering, sacking, captiuating, racking, rifling, and horror what not? that death seemed least damage that the poore Medes then sustained. If the rehearsal of this common Calamitie will not suffice. I haue also a particuler complaint against the Assirians: who (then in which they might not haue perpetrated greater crueltie) hauing puposely made the Kinge and Queene my parentes eye-witnesses, of the most misera­ble condicion of their Subiectes and Signorie, did also, euen in their sight, murder seuen yonge Princes their children: and (least in any one thing, they might seeme not to haue outraged in tyrannie) with the luke-warme blood of the children they mingled also the bloode of the parentes: leauing me of their frutefull issue the onelye Remaine. But more then this, and (who was fully as deare, or dearer to me then parentes, brethren or country) in this bloody businesse I lost by death or captiuitie, I wot not which, Duke Arbaces, ah Arbaces my husband, who not long before had made me a mother of an vnfortu­nate Sonne, was then bereft me. Also when the Assiri­ans should depart, mine harmefull beautie procured my shipping towardes Assiria, for why, the Emperour had in his purpose appointed me one of his Concubynes: with which purpose of his I, desolate I, became so perplexed, that from thenceforth breaking truce with my pacience, I was rather to seeke of a desperate practise then a con­senting [...] to haue perished, in somuch, that the mother­ly care of my Babe then hanging on my breast, had not bayled me from death, if a worser occurrant had not with­stood so an good occasion: for by the commandement of As­colanta the Emperisse (being now enuious of my beautie, and waxing iealous of her husbandes liking) I was all a­lone set a shoare in this Ilande, by which meanes I also for-went my sweete Infant: and vntill now, my desartes [Page] more (as appeareth) then your deuotions, haue giuen me here intertainment. It is not vaine-glory (I [...]peake not now to these Assirians, whom I worthely maligne, but to you the Inhabitants of this Iland, whom vnworthely I haue profited) y ^t moueth me thus to vaūt deserts, but your owne vnthankfulnesse that will not value my merits: for meete though it be, that you vouche the heauens for the matter of your wealth, whereof you long were ignorant, yet amisse were it not, to vouchsafe me a prerogatiue in y ^e manner and vse, as first deliuered vnto you by mine in­uention. I founde you without Gods, without Religion, without Lawes, or Gouernment, naked, wild, brutish, & beast-like, feeding on Roots, harbouring in Bushes, feare full of your own shadowes, and to discribe you in a word, Monsters wrapped in man-like habbites: but in these through mine industry you haue now Reformatiō, & were it not that prouender doth pricke you, and fulne [...] [...]ake you foolish, only you, might be said an happie people: and that, ywis, not somuch in respect the naturall pleasure, and plentie of this your popilous Ilande (through ater­restriall Parradise) as in that mine expe [...]ience and plat-forme hath warned you, and might haue armed you frō the Incursions of these Tyrants, the cōmon Skourge to all pleople: against whom, not without cause as you haue heard, my tongue long since hath proclaimed deadly Foade, neither, in seeking reueng, shal mine hart breake Couenante, with the diseased ghostes of my murdered friendes. But (on Gods name) be it so, that nether Media for example, my selfe for merittes, the [...] their mischieues, our law for iustice, you for duety, [...] I for authoritie, be it so, I say, that none of these haue that waight of argument, to winne you reuenging Instruments, to wreake my teene vpon these Tyrantes: yet at the least­wise, be prouident for your owne safety, and preuent your owne euilles, by punishing these your apparant enemies: of whom the question is not, whether they all haue ium­ped [Page] vppon one diuelish Attempt, that is, the conquest of you and your Countrie (all circumstances directly ap­prouing such consequent) but, because according to the mind of the offendor we are to measure offences, & for that there may be mercy in punishing, and crueltie in sparing, let vs see whether of the, two, pittie or punishment is in this case more requisite. If this offence of the Assirians had bene committed through ignorance, infirmitie, prouoca­tion on our parte, through rashnes (for sometimes rash­nesse, and such like infirmities are in some men as sick­nesses) if priuatly against one, or a few, or by your known foes, then I deny not, but that mercie might haue bor­rowed of Iustice: but I wil cleare them (as men that wil not offend but in the highest degree) of these petite faults, and charge them with capitall crymes. They (least here­in they should degenerate from Assirians) of pretended mall [...] without matter, haue hoysted their sayles to for­ren windes, and vsed their vnpeaceable weapons against vnknowen people: not for Enmitie, but for Ambitton, not ignorantly by chance, but aduisedly by counsel, not rashly, but resolutely, not against some, bu [...] against all, not be­cause you deserue warre, but because they dispise peace: yea, had not I fore-warned you, as hauing had tryall of their trecheries, you should haue fealt their woundes before you coulde haue feared their words: and after they had glutted them selues with Slaughters, Rauish­ments, Sacrileges, Burninges, Spoylinges, and all kinde of Mischieues, the Ruines of your Ilande shoulde not haue priuileged the Suruiuours of you, frō their in­tollerable Slauery. If this much, which might suffise for me to charge them, & for you to correct them be yet insuf­ficient, then haue I also Reason, & Honestie Coparswa­do [...]s herof. Reason I say, because better afew be punished then y ^t a multitude should perish, & Honestie, because in y ^t you may, and will not, you take vpon your selues the Of­fence of the Offendoures, and betray the good whilest [Page] you boulster the badde: for Impunitie is the Springe of Carelesnesse, the Mother of Insolencie, the roote of im­pudencie and the Nurse of al Transgressions. For shame therefore, Sirs, inchaunt your harmefull pittie, and re­member that not to correct is to consent to the Crime. Better it is that I remember you of the perill, then you repent you of your pitty, for if you staie vntil Experience, the Philosophie of Fooles, hath taught you what I haue toulde you, then, to your costes, you shall finde that the Assirians be men enemies to mankinde, not to bee made your friendes by Compulsion or Composition, whose en­mitie commeth of Custome, and not by occasion: euen this disgrace, if they escape, that their liues & liberties were in your power to giue, or take is vnnaturall for their na­tures to digest, for which (were there no other cause) their cankared Stomackes shal requite your sufferance with the abuse of you patience: it is a thing impossible. [...]o re­concile an hart hardned with pride and mallice to hone­stie. But what? is it decēt that I pleade before mine own Uassails? that I intreate as a Subiect whome I should commaunde as a Soueraine? my s [...]fferance, I see, is cause of your stubbornesse, & my curtesie of your cōtempt: At my first comming when I might haue had adoration as a Goddesse, I was not then so hautie as to take it, and now that I should haue obedience as you Gouernesse, you are not so humble as to giue it: thus deale you with mee as did the Frogges with Iupiters Rafter, you make me a Stock, but beware these Storks. And truely, seeing you haue not deserued why I should be longer carefull of you and your welfare, and for, that by disobedience, you will needes inflict vpon your selues so grieuous a punishmēt, I also giue my consent (a reuenge too great I confesse) that these our Captiues be anon deliuered to their ships: that, being insufficient of them selues, they may inuite frō Assiria the distruction, and ruine of you, your wiues, your children, your goodes, and your whole countrie: for e­nough [Page] haue the Assirians seene in this our Ilande, to al­lure hether multitudes of Inuadours.

Cap. 55.

THese her wordes, had now so incensed the mindes of the Ilanders against the Assirians, that euerie of them was clearely resolute in the death of his Prisoner: but for that one of the two olde Captiues, whom Dircilla had (as before) singled out, and whom her wordes had now especially touched to the quicke, was suddenly bereft his sences, and falne in a sowne: And for that the Ilanders stoode vppon expectation of some further confession, to be deliuered by the seconde olde-man, who was alredy, in way of aunswere to Dircilla, entred into some and these following speaches, therefore vntill he shoulde ende, the deter [...]ed slaughter receiued a seconde adiornement.

I protest (qd. this aged man) by whatsoeuer God hath [...]ar [...] of vs and this Countrie, by the Sunne, and the holy Fire of Caldia, and as euerie of these shall, in this life, cōfort my withered Carcase, more fit for the wormes thē the worlde, and doe good to my Soule, when it shall leaue the wearisome prison of this my body, I shall, Lady▪ nei­ther dissemble for feare, accuse for enuie, or excuse for af­fection, but as touching that wherewithall we are nowe charged, vtter all that I know, and know all to be troth I shall vtter.

For my selfe therefore I say, that most trewe and too trewe it is, that the Assirians, then conducted by Ninus, committed such and the same before remembred outra­ges, slaughters, and spoyles in Media, neither were you deceiued in guessing some of vs to bee priuie, or par­ties to that bysines, wherein (to saye troth) my selfe was no small parte: but howe? not (alas) as a Spoyler with the Assirians, but as a Sufferer with the Meades, for Media is the place of my bearth, Assiria only of mine [Page] aboade. And for these Assirians, mine owne companie I meane, I say, Ladie, that not charging them with the faultes of their Auncestours, or any further then where­in them selues be guiltie, you, but especially yours haue greter cause of kindnesse, then of any crueltie: for proofe and better credit wherof, besides my former protestation, somewhat it is (whom since my hither comming I haue not heard named) that I know you to be Dircilla, wife & Ladie to the Duke Arbaces: but more, that I the speaker of these wordes am Orchamus brother vnto the same your husbande: and more then so, the man vnto whose care, when suddenly, at the commaundement of the Emperise, you were snatched from out your Cabben, you commen­ded your yong Sonne, saying: Ah good Orchamus, if thy fortune proue better then y ^e destinies of al thy friends, be a Parent to thy poore Nephewe, whome with more griefe▪ I leaue an Orphant, thē to haue seene hi [...] [...]uried: I well remember the wordes, and, me-thinkes, I yet see those very weepinges which pearced mine heart, a [...] this our lamentable separation. Since which time (Dir­cilla) I haue not onely bene carefull to answere the same your trust, but also, beyonde expectation, I found For­tune and oportunitie therein assisting. For no sooner was the Assirian Fleete aryued at home, but that Ninus (not a little displeased at your losse, the which by the Emperise, & her ministers was smoothly cloaked with a colourable excuse) but that Ninus, I say, caused your Sonne to bee nursed and nurtured with prince-like attendance: and when his age serued, who then of greater credit and cou­rage, or a more notable Captaine then was Sorares, a­mongst the Assirians? But in the returne of the imperiall Nauie f [...]om the Bactrian warres, by occasion of a sudden tempest then happening, Sorares your Sonne, my nephew and all the companie aboorde his ship, were lost from the rest, in the Sea Caspium. Now when this heauie newes was bruted at Niniuie, I, Atys, and Abynados, his two [Page] Sonnes (for he hath made you a grādmother of these two Gentlemen) and these other, his, and our friends, vowing our selues in his continual Quest, haue three yeares alre­dy, trauailed many Countries and Seas, to find out Sora­res: through occasion whereof, as also to take in fresh wa­ter and other necessaries, and not vpon any such purpose as you pretende, we are aryued in this Iland, and lo, yon­der-same (he pointed to Sorares) is the man farre sought, but vnluckely here founde, if finding him wee loose our selues, and with the ende of our labours, make also an ende of our liues.

Cap. 56.

JN few, what with this talke, and other more effectuall tokens, Dircilla being brought to her Creede, and left in de profundìs, rather musing at their meeting being so straun [...], then mistrusting the matter being credited, or euer she might imbrace Sorares, or reply to Orchamus, was interrupted by the seconde Olde-man, the other of the two singled-out Captiues: who in a ioyfull extasie, suddenly clapped her (frowardly disdayning his imbra­cinges, as not yet cooled of her former chaufe) betwixte his braune-fallen armes. But when he saw her lookes, not vnlike to those in the picture of Proserpina, newly rap­ted by Pluto, it entered then his thought, that rashly to iest with Sainctes or edg-tooles, might proue daungerous: wherefore as doubting the like reward, that had Aesops kind Asse, vnkinde-like imitating the wanton Spanniel, for the time therefore charming such his kindnesse, anon he founde oportunitie, thus to chaunge her coynesse.

I giue place, sayde he, to the time, but not to Dircilla, whome these armes (pythlesse though they nowe bee) once coulde, nay often did, not violently but willingly imbrace (may I so blabbe) euen in the bedde of Arba­ces: blushe not, Dircilla, blushe not, the sporte was lawfull, howsoeuer the reporte may seeme ouer liberall: [Page] and if (for pouertie parteth friendes) you disdaine to acknowledge such acquaintance, yet at the least for Arba­ces his sake, deale mercifully with these your Prisoners. As for my selfe, could I pleade no other protection then that I am olde enough not to feare death, it might suffise: but nether did I hope so well as I haue here founde, ney­ther doe I feare so ill as I am here threatned: Orchamus (for so your countenance promiseth a consent) hath alre­dy founde grace, because he is brother to your husbande Arbaces, and therefore not likely is it, that Arbaces him selfe speaking for him selfe, or rather for me, shall speede worser then doth Orchamus: neither do I make it a doubt, but that Sorares sonne to Arbaces and you, is alike deare to either parent: and of the saffetie of Atys and Abynados his sonnes, naturall loue I presume tendereth a war­rantize: but now generally, and briefly as touching all these Assirians, my selfe, Dircilla, will be their Borrowe, if Arbaces his Baile may deliuer them of their Banoes.

To make shorte tale, Dircilla now hearing, and seeing sufficient to the acknowledging of her husbande, vnable then to moderate her sudden ioy, & in respect of her yeares and whom euen now shee seemed, vnlike to her selfe, shee lightly clasped Arbaces as redy to imbrace, as to be im­braced betwixt her armes: who mutually mixing their ioyfull teares, with louing kysses, were either of them long time bereft the vse of their tōgues: of which pleasant passions Orchamus, Sorares, Atys, and Abynodos were also glad Copartners: neither were the by-standers, as­well Assirians, as Ilanders exempted for idle inspec­toures [...] euill appayed Actours in this ioyfull Acci­dent.

After therefore more then a little ioy on all sides ouer­passed, by reason of this happie meeting thus disclo­sed, wherein (after many yeares, and euerie per­son seuerally scattered in a sundrie Countrie) the Hus­bande had recouered his Wife, shee her Husbande, [Page] both their Sonne, he his Parents, him his sonnes, hee them, the brother his brother, the kinsman his kindred, and the friend his friend, and (whiche more is) after ex­treme miseries attaining to such inspeakeable ioyes, yea and at that instant, when nothing was lesse hoped for then life, after (I say) this ioyful meeting, the Prisoners were all set at libertie, and bountifully feasted by Dircilla, and her Ilanders. And then euery of the Meades seuerally reported what had befalne them, since their chasing out of their countrie (as before) by Ninus.

First Arbaces tolde of their tragicall ariuall into the barren Iland, and how he and his fellow, suruiuing the rest, after they had bene long shut vp there in great mise­rie, did deliuer themselues from thence (as in the begin­ning of this Booke is remembered) in the ship of Sorares, whome then, or before this very time he knew not for his Sonne: then showeth he of their safe ariuall, and good in­tertai [...]ment in Sarmatia from whence, hauing obtained a shippe and men, as pittying the distresse wherein they had left Sorares and his Assirians, and for their deliuery, they againe resailed to the barren Iland: then lastly how they had no sooner taken Sorares, and his miserable soul­diours aboord, and put their ship againe to the Seas, but that a sudden storme, droue them perforce vpon that same pleasaunt Iland, wherin this their ieoberdious ioy thus hapned.

Sorares, Atys, and Abynados did (in effect) no other then i [...]terate the former reporte of Orchamus: and nowe was it come to Dircilla her turne to speake, whose wordes, con­taining a more pittiful, profitable, and pleasant discourse, then a curious deliuerie, thus follow.

Cap. 57.

WHen, Arbaces, the Mariners had landed and left me post alone in this Iland, the day was farre spent, and my wits almost at an ebbe: then was thy name rife in my mouth, & (though also in vaine) the extincte names of my dead parents, and bretheren: yea mine eyes with feare, & my hart with loue, did both twain follow those enuious Sayles, whereby Sorares my sonne, then an Infant, was carried Captiue into a straunge Countrey, from mee his helpelesse mother: and when mine eyes mighte no longer accompanie him through distaunce of Seas, yet did my hart ariue with him euen in Assiria. Anon with freshe supplies did sorrowes confusedly succeede sorrowes, being in number so great, and in nature so greeuous, that one of my then passions might haue set twentie toungs a work, one of those toungs haue cōstrained a miliō eies to teares, & the least cause of those teares haue killed y ^e wepers hart: neither did it alone suffise, y ^t I thus sorrowed for thinges past, but I also feared a world of woes not vnlikly to haue followed. Here perceaued I a pleasaunt Iland, but vnma­nured (as might seeme) of people: retire back I could not, go forwards I durst not, behind me raged the wide seas, before me mustered the wild Deserts, and on either side, heard I the vnacquainted noyse of dreadful Monsters: and yet (troth to saye) I lesse doubted the fiercenesse of anye Monster, that could but deuoure my body, then the fal­shood of men (if any were) that mighte haue abused my beautie: for, besides that mine Attire, not vnbeseming the daughter of Farnus, was then very gorgious, and myne age (I being then in the flower of my youth) answerable to mine Attire, my beautie also (though I say it) was then sutable to both, in commendation wherof, thy self (my Ar­baces) diddest, in those our altian dayes, affect ouer-much the figure Hyperbole, & with the Ilanders here, was y ^e same [Page] not a little effectuall to winne me fauour: but this braue bragge to such as now heare me, and did not then see me, wil, no doubt, seeme more audatious in report, then auten­ticall for credit, yet do I speake it in this place, where erre [...] cannot without controulment.

These feares, I say, and a thousande like fantasies thus oc [...]upying my thoughts, suddenly I hearde a boysterous rushing amongst the next boughes, foure of these Ilāders anon disclosing themselues vnto my vew: euerye of them held in his right hand a cragged Dart, and in the lefte a great quantitie of raw flesh: at sight wherof (and a grea­ter horror then so) when, not meanly affrighted, I beheld how gluttonously they crammed down their M [...]wes, the same f [...]esh yet reaking in their teeth, & how their Chaps, beardes, breastes, armes, handes, and whatsoeuer gri [...]e part of them leaues had left bare, were al besmeared with blood, though death was then the least of all my feares, yet (beleeue mee) the crueltie prefigurated by this sa­uadge Spectacle, did strike to my hart such incompre­hensible terrour, that if, at the least, sorrowes had not bereft me of sence, in comparison hereof, the sufferaunce of a simple death had bene no death, or in no part so dread­full.

Now, whilst I applie this horrible presidente to feede my new feare, and rather dreaded, then doubted, that anon their imbrewed hands should seaze, & their rauinous teeth tire vpon me and my flesh, and I so receiue an vnnaturall buriall within their bowels, the barbarous people had es­pied out me: who then, as Deare newly broughte to the stande, with Countinances indifferently inclining to ad­miration and feare, stood a great while aloofe off at gaze. Anon seeing me to approch them nearer and nearer, after many Satirlike freakes, with nimble feet & swift flight, they skud awaye into the nearest woods, wildly boulting through the Thickets, and with incredible facilitie, mounting and dismounting the sharp and steepe Roches. [Page] then (a strange and preposterous course mighte it seeme, if not in so desparate a case, that the Hare should followe the Hound) as I fearing pursued them flying, with pur­pose, at lest by falling into their hands, to haue died from such miseries, in casting my eye aside, I perceiued y ^e Ca [...] and carcase of a Beare, the whiche these men had newly slaughtered, and vpon whose dismēbred limbes (as might seeme) I had euen now seene them feeding. This facte of theirs as it seemed to participate a fearce and bestiall cou­rage, so such their food did argue in them a defect of hu­mane conditiōs, and both it, and whatsoeuer else I here be­held, presented ouer skatheful sights to mee, euen nowe so wealthie, and wanton a Lady. Thus hitherto did I salute penury at the Threshold, seeming to me an intolle­rable hansell.

But whilste I thus lingered a dying life, Night, the discomfortable Register and Remembrencer of all mise­ries, had taken place of the opposite, and ouershadowed all this Countrie: then fleeted many thoughts in my minde, not only of present ieoberdies, but also of passed ioyes: and by how much more nise and delicate education, or to bee exact from so royall parentage made once to happinesse, by so much more penurie, and distresse added nowe to per­plexitie and impatience: for what thing can happen more vnkindly, then that pleasaunt and good causes should va­rie in peruerse and bad effects? or what leaue wee with more greefe, then what we possessed with most ioy? I that lately had all, or more than I could readily aske, could not aske now any one needefull thing I might possibly haue, but as in better times I had superfluitie with supplies, so in this change of fortune I suffered necessitie with de­crease: Beggers know in what, and by whome to bee re­leeued, but (alas) euen beggerie did by so muche better mine infortune, by howe much I neither knew to begge, nor found of whome to receiue, and (whereof Beggers are not restrained) it lay not in my choise to make chaunge of [Page] the place, whatsoeuer in charitie I founde in the peo­ple.

But by that time, the torture of two or three of these dayly terrors, and nightly torments had racked Uertue [...]om Necessitie, I tried this Crosse both possible to hap­pen, and founde the same in euent profitable: for as the Horse late pampered vp at the full manger, and anon tur­ned out to grasing, doth not willinglye forsake his bare pasture, againe to returne to his sweete Prouendor, so I, (although my sufferaunce came at first by constraint, yet constraint growing to a custome, and custome to a confir­mation of patience) vsed the Libertie of these Woods, as a Supersedias against the World: yea when my Fleshe was mortified, and my Spirits quickned, I coulde then consider, that Uertue and Riches sieldome couple in one body: and when I was so farre secluded from the vain de­lights of the world, that neither mine eyes might see thē, mine eares heare them, nor my hart hope for them, I then easily deuerted from the Compounds of Education, and reuerted to the Simples of Nature: and in so needye a life, I remembred my naked byrth, and conceiued the like of my graue. Thus profite we in diuine Uirtue, when we decay in humaine presumption: and herein onely differ we from brute beasts, that they naturallye knowe not themselues, but such ignoraunce in vs worketh vnkindly to brutishnesse.

Now, credit me, Arbaces, all seemed th [...] vaine whiche before time I had in most value: for I remember (and I thinke the world is as it was) that in our Heads, Heares, Habbits, and behauiours, Uarietie so squared out Fashi­ons according to our own Fantasies, that whilst Nature seemed a Dotarde, and Arte an Infant too-bad became a Brauerie: that our faces so borrowed of Phao his Box, that the interest exceeding the loan, Beautie with some became a Banquerupt: that our Feete (proud Fooles) so tr [...]ad vpon the earth as if earth, disdained to touch earth. [Page] But smile I must to remember, how some with a Maske, a Scarfe, or a Plume, could as formally keepe their olde or black and bad faces from sight, as didde others their beautie from Sunne-burne: neyther coulde ought be [...] tollerated in yong, fayre, and noble Dames for their pre [...]rogatiue, that was not anon taken vp by olde, foule, and meane Drosels for pride, so that we becomming May-la­dies, they would anon counterfeit Maid-marians: and yet these Apes in purple, in our fashions, gate, and nice­nesse, followed vs in nothing so effectuallye, as did some men effeminatelye, whose lockes were so like trimmed, beautie so tended, and all their ornaments so woman-like tempered, that onely to haue taken their Swordes from their sides, and then to haue giuen them Fannes in their hands, had bene altogether to resemble, with whom they did altogether desemble, women.

This did I then remember, and the vanities [...]hereof seemed most ridiculous: alas, would I thinke to my selfe, that sometimes was as nice as the nicest, with what foo­lishnesse frequent we our bodies to costly balmes and cu­rious ornaments, which after a few dayes Death presen­teth to the Graue, and the Graue to the Wormes? and why are we remisse & carelesse in beautifying our soules, fit presents for the Gods themselues, with incorruptable vertues.

If (more th [...]kefully be it now spoken, than the same was then accep [...]ed) aduersity would offer vnto other La­dies, or to whomsoeuer, the same oportunitie to contem­plate and consider of the World, as was, and is alotted to me, Beautie would seeme Uanitie, the losse of Riches, the recouery of quietnesse, a Ransome from Fortune, and a discouerie of our selues: and wee our selues shoulde ap­peare to our selues, no other then Examples of weaknes, Spoiles of Time, the Game of Fortune, Patternes of inconstancie, Receptacles of miserie, Markes for Enuie, in conception loathsome, in birth helpelesse, in youth wit­lesse, [Page] in age wretched, of life vncertaine, of death sure, and consequently, wel shall they that thus say:

Therfore should we behaue our selues here, not as though we liue only for our bodies, but as though we coulde not liue without bodies: neither so to follow the worlde, that we also fall with the world, which being ours, we are not our own. But hitherto haue you not heard, how I fell in with these Ilanders: the order whereof I shall now tell you.

Cap. 58.

THese considerations (my deare Arbaces) at the fyrste vrged of necessitie, and then vsed as necessarie, besides the place it selfe, whiche seemed a seconde Elysium, or of pleasure, and plentie Nature her Store-house: where­in eche Hill might seeme a Parnassus, eche Ualley an E­don, eche Groue a Tempe, and eche Water a Tagus: and more-ouer (which did not a little delight) with these the people also, the men and nimble Ladds of this Ilande, vnto whom, if wee graunte their then Attire and wild­nesse, and from these other except their [...] ▪like Mem­bers and Manners, they shoulde seeme righte Fani, or Satirs: or rather, in respecte of their personages (mighte not the Comparison seeme Sacralegious to his Deitie) in steede of Dartes, arming them with bow and quiuer, such as was sayde lustie Nomius in the fieldes of Thessalie.

And what shal I speake of mine own Sex? whose loue­lye faces were suche as you nowe see, and whose beau­tifull bodies, because I descried them little better [Page] then bare, had the discouerie bene yours, might, perhaps, otherwise haue delighted your wanton eyes: beleeue me, so Nymph-like were their faces and fashions, that whe­ther it were, in beholding the calme seas, that they trip­ped on the Shoare, they seemed such as are reported the Nereides: or that they floung themselues into some plea­saunt Fountain, they resembled the Naiades: or that they kept the ayrsome Mountaines, they represented the Ore­ades: or that amongst the Woods casting themselues in­to a ring, they daunced their Roundiloes, or gathering sweete Gayes, they decked themselues with Flowers, or that they couched their white sides on the softe Hearbes, in these also they mighte haue bene taken for the Drya­des.

By assistaunce, I say, of these, that is, Patience, Time, Place, People, and this sweete and vnthreatned Libertie (the only remembraunce of thee Arbaces, and of Sorares my sonne excepted) I made not only a resistaunce for the time, but at length a finall conquest of Fortune. And ha­uing secretlye, and sufficiently obserued the harmelesse maners and dispositions of these people, and in all things reformed my selfe to their fashions, when oportunitie ser­ued, I fell in with the rest, & behaued my selfe so formally that (no one suspecting to the contrarie) I was taken for an here-breede Ilandresse: but by this meanes chanced my Credit, and Authority.

Hauing [...] little and little crept in acquaintance, after a while (as moued so to doe, by reason of my colde attier and coulder lodging, more naturall to them then vsuall to me, albeit both to thē and me tollerable ynough, because then this, no Climate may be more temperate) I hapned one Euening, a great number of the Ilanders be­ing then present, with a Flint-stone to strike fyre, and therewithall to kindle an heape of stickes and other drie matter: but lo (a thing vnthoughte of) they who neuer before had seene Fire, but supposed the same to be some [Page] miraculous Accident presently deriued from the Sonne, which they worshipped for their God, as people therefore rauished of their sences, and holding both it and me in re­uerent admiration, they offer diuine worship: which I refusing, by many familier instaunces, informed them in this and other matters: so far-foorth neuerthelesse, aduauntaging my selfe by such their superstitious incly­nations, as in their vnciuile manners, dyet, apparell, dwellinges, prouision, religion, and such like, might tende to the more easier Reformation: in which thing I dealing with them by degrees, & according to their Ca­pacities, did in time, profit them to a more ciuile Perfec­tion. And then, whereas they beleeued me a Goddesse, I remoued also that profitable Errour, but might not re­nounce the Gouernment of them, & their Countrie: which charge, with a general consent, would I, or would I not, they haue cast vpon me.

Cap. 59.

AS Dircilla thus parled, and whilest the Riualles sate yet banqueting in her Bowers, they discryed a great flame assending from out the Sea, whereof Arbaces de­sirous to know the reason, was thus answered: that cer­taine of the Ilanders, ignorant of that that was hapned, finding his sheepe in the Docke, had fired both it and all the ballace therein, being a great Masse [...] [...]easure: with which newes Arbaces seeming much disquieted, was in conclusion by Dircilla thus appeased.

Ouer-passed Damages, qd. shee, haue made me pro­uident in following daungers, and therefore (albeit at this time, ignorant of this action, wherin thy presence, Arbaces, might haue bene a countermaunde to our Cu­stome) yet generally before time, as concerning the As­sirians, haue I commaunded such burninges and ambush­mentes: as a thing profitable to our peace, and in perfor­maunce [Page] easie, and to that ende continually haue main­tayned watches in euerie our Costes: by which meanes no Reporter hath allured hether Inuadours, and our own people, keeping within their owne boundes, remaine vn­corrupt of straunge manners and practises. But alas (and then teares were ioyned to wordes) what meaneth, Ar­baces, this thy troubled countenaunce for thy burnt ship, as though thou wouldest resaile without me, that in this place haue vowed my buriall: to those white heares of thine, and to one so vnfortunatly crossed of the world, de­lightfull rest shoulde, me-thinkes, seeme more agreable, then doubtful trauels.

If thou, being then a Prince, and yong, couldest not in Media auoide the Assirian tyrannie, if the Treasure (I cite thine owne reporte) from thence transported in­to the barren Ilande, causing such effusion of bloode, and in the ende onely possessed of two, had no vertue because no vse, if after thine owne deliuerie, in waffing also from that imprisonm [...]nt Sorares thine vnknowen sonne, and his companions, the Seas ruled thy Sterne, & the stormes were thy Pilots, if I say, in Youth, in Age, in wealth, in wante, on Lande, and on Sea, thou hast experienced such incertaintie and perils, and lastly if after all these, yea and that when no other then a foule death was expec­ted, thou hast recouered thy Wife, thy Sonne, thy sonnes Children, thy Brother, and with them a Kingdom, yea a kingdome for [...]easure matching Boeotia, and for profit comparable to the best part in Nabathia, why then doest thou not, I say, renounce those olde perils, and rest con­tented with these new pleasures? of which though three partes were wanting, yet, beleeue me, Arbaces, a conten­ted minde is better then a kingdome, and the worlde, at the best, worser then a Parasite.

This she saide, and Arbaces hauing alredy assented in himselfe, did easily consent to her, as one not so muc [...] tur­ned by wordes, as tyred with the worlde: who, as also [Page] Orchamus, Sorares, Atys, Abynados, and all the Assirians esteeme themselues rapt vp into a third heauen, so inspeak- was the ioy of such their meeting, and the pleasure and plentie of this their Ilande. And thus to conclude, those whome I founde in Charons Boate I nowe leaue in Iupiters Boosome.