THE divine providence useth men here below as Counters in a recko­ning, Divers condi­tions of men. which now stand for pence, and straight­wayes for Crownes: Some all the time of their liues, are buri­ed in a deepe night, we neither know their entrance into the world, not their passage out, and if wee know them by any title, it is by that of their miseries: Others are in the mid-day light, where oft-times they burne more then they shine, and not knowing themselves, make them­selves knowne to all the world by ministring oc­casion for Histories of their liues, and Fables of their fortunes. Others having for a long time [Page 2] been hidden, (as those rivers which travel far un­der the earth,) present themselves to the eyes of men, and make themselves renowned by incom­parable acts, deriving rayes of glory from their proper obscurity. A matter very evident in this narration which I am now about to publish, wherein you shall behold beginnings uncer­taine, progressions embroyled, and events most happy.

Clodoaldus an eminent Lord, The founda­tion of this History. and one of the noblest of the Kingdome of Denmarke, wherein hee sometime governed a great Province, was a Widower and Father of three Children, of which, two had beene taken from him, to wit, a sonne called (first) by the name of his Father, and afterward Ischyrion, & a daughter called Hil­degardis. The son was stolne away by Pirats, re­covered againe, & brought up by shepherds, of whom hauing understood somwhat (although obscurely) touching his extraction, he had a de­sire to trauell with Faustin the shepherds sonne who bred him: both which encountring many accidents, wrought great wonders.

The Daughter being about seven yeeres of age, was taken by the subtill practise of certaine Priests of Idols to serve as a vestall Virgin in the Temple of Irminsul in the Land of Saxony, where­in were infinite abhominations committed; for they sacrificed men to feed Lions, and Beares kept purposely in that place: The third childe of Clodoaldus was Iacinthus upon whom the lot fell to have beene sacrificed in the Temple of [Page 3] this bloody Idoll: but this miserie was diver­ted as you shall understand by the victorious armes of the French, who overthrew Idolatrie, and caused in this matter unspeakable felicity to arise after a great confusion of many cala­mities.

I heere (Reader) request thee, that as this History aimes to shew the triumph of the crosse upon the remainders of impietie, which were (as then) in Europe: thou wouldst not slight­ly over-runne these lines by the way of a bar­ren delight; but that thou therein admire the obligations thou owest to the Saviour of the world, who hath drawne thee from the servitude of Devils. I intreat thee therein to behold the precious gift hee hath conferred on France, ta­king its Armes and Flower de Luces to make them the true instruments of his glory: Sap. 4. and in the end raising Charlemaigne, The originall of Idolatry. a most puissant Monarch wholly to demollish Idols.

The wise-man hath said very well, that Ido­latrie was the cause, the beginning, and the end of all evils: For, from thence proceeded the furious warre of ignorance; the perpetuall illu­sion of life, the confusion of all things, the neg­lect of God, the corruption of nature, and in the end an invndation of bloud, sacrileges, and impurities.

It is a wonder how this plague having be­gun a litle after the Deluge, and over-run all parts of the world; was not yet in the time of Charlemaigne wholy extinct, which was Eight [Page 4] Hundred yeeres after the Birth of CHRIST: But as the evill spirit endevoured to spred his Net from the beginning of the World so hee sought to maintaine it to the end, Cyril. lib. 1. con­ [...]ra Iulian: Di­dymus lib. Ex­egeseon. accounting it to bee the strength and band of his Em­pire.

I am not ignorant what learned men argue touching the first Idol. S. Hierome in Epistol: ad Ti­tum. S. Cyril thinketh it was a statue of Iupiter, consecrated by Cecrops King of the Athenians. Didymus, and S. Ierome attri­bute the invention thereof to a King of Creet named Melissus: Diodorus and Eusebius, to the Phrygians: The Atlantes a people of Affricke boast aboue all others the antiquity of their god, [...] Ammonius in antiquis. whom they entitle by the name of heaven. Porphryrius imagineth the beginning of Pagan religion came from the Phaenicians: [...] But Ammo­nius esteemes it very probable that the first Idol was that of Nemrod mentioned in Scripture: were it not that following the relation of Ful­gentius, we say that one Synoph [...]nes an Egyptian by Nation, having lost his son; first of all conse­crated a statue to sorrow: It were much more expedient to know the last then the first of these abhominations: The most probable opinion is, that it began quickly after the Tower of Babel, and that the Babylonians and Egyptians were the first who were infected with it. The ancient Gaules proceeded farre therein, F [...] ▪ Taranis Scy­thicae non mitiorara Dianae. for the Devils gave them Oracles in Trees, and statues, and they fell into so deep a blindnesse as to sacrifice men to Taranis, whose altar (as Lucan the Poet [Page 5] observeth) was bloudy and barbarous.

This was yet practised among the Saxons, as we shall see in the progresse of this Historie: For it happened that Clodoaldus this distressed Father having wandred over many Countreys, perpetually in quest of his Children, came to reside in Saxony, where hee had some alliance: and seeking there for some entertainment to sweeten the sence of his mis-hap, Hunting of Clodoaldus in the Grove of Jrminsul. was greatly delighted in hunting, wherein he used as much fervour as dexteritie.

Now it chanced one day, that he pursuing a Bore very eagerly, entred into a huge thicke for­rest which much astonished him to behold; for verely it was a den of Devils, where they made very many bloudy sacrifices: and there was still to be seen a huge Idol of brasse dedicated to a false Divinitie, vnder which this Bore casually hastned to sheltor himselfe.

Those, I who at that time accompanied Clodo­aldus, fayled not to give him notice it was the Forrest and Idol of Irminsul: and that hunting was forbidden in that place: But hee, whether neglecting the superstitions of a Country wher­in hee had not yet beene naturalized, or whether charmed with the pleasure of chase, forbare not to passe further, and slew the Bore with his owne hand, whose head hee cut off, and shewed it in a bravery.

In the meane while (it being very ordinary with evil spirits to speake by Idols, and to cause sterility of seasons, and sicknes of bodies) there [Page 6] was heard to proceed from this statue a voyce frightfull, and menacing: which protested to act strange out-rages upon the person of this poore Lord, and the whole Countrey, if hee endevoured not to afford a speedie satisfaction. And that which made it bee thought these threats would not bee without effect, was that Clodoaldus felt himselfe sodainely strooken with a dimnesse, which for a time tooke from him the vse of his eyes.

This vigorous spirit of his was so overwhel­med with superstition, that casting himselfe at the feet of a false god to begge pardon; hee yeelded up humble supplications, which relli­shed more of the servitude of his feare: [...]ad meet­ [...]g. then the ge­nerosity of his courage. The Devill seeing him in a state to yeeld to any thing, required of him for the recovery of his sight, made him promise to sacrifice the first thing he should chance to meet withall as hee returned to his house: He quick­ly found by experience the temeritie of his vow in the disaster of this accident. For his son Ia­cinthus the sole obiect of his thoughts, and only support of the frailtie of his age, understanding hee was gone from his house on hunting; made haste to meet him with cheerefulnesse of youth, and excesse of ioy.

The poore Father who had already both the portalls of his eyes shut up from the specta­cle of his calamities, held perpetually those of his eares too open to his owne unhappinesse: which was the cause that hearing the voice of Ia­cinthus, [Page 7] hee waxed pale with horror, and casting foorth a deepe sigh, Combat of p [...]etie between [...] the father an [...] sonne. said nothing else, but, this is my sonne, I am dead: Griefe at that time choak­ing up the rest of his words: On the other side the little Iacinthus beholding his Father blinde, and considering the discomfort hee fell into at the instant of his arrivall, imagined himselfe to bee the cause of his mis-hap: whereupon hee wept so bitterly, that it drew much compassion from those there present, and made all the forrest resound with his out-cries. Never was the sto­rie of Iephte seene better personated: This yong innocent held himselfe fast fixed to the knees of his father, humbly beseeching him by all that which was most religious and sacred with him in the world, to declare the remedy might be ap­plyed for his recovery; or else to take revenge on him, and kill him with a Bore-speare, which hee had in his hand, protesting he would direct the blow, and open his brest to the point: which could not but find passage enough into the heart of a Parricide. But the unfortunate Clodoaldus who then felt the most horrible convulsions may be imagined, concealed his wound so much as hee could, as one who more apprehended the re­medie, then the evill it selfe: The father, and sonne were long in a combat of pietie, which mi­nistred matter of teares to the most insensible, and of admiration to all the world.

In the end Clodoaldus retiring somewhat a­part to conferre with his friends, who had ac­companied him in hunting, concerning this de­plorable [Page 8] accident: perceiving those who were very willing to transferre the storme upon their Neighbours field to free themselves from dan­ger, became earnest to perswade him speedily to accomplish this dolorous sacrifice, he growing very angry and contesting with words sharpe e­nough, some of them hastned to the eare of Ia­cinthus, who presently understood the knot of the businesse, and offered himselfe very freely to bee sacrificed. But the father esteeming him­selfe so much the more bound to preserve a ver­tue, which hee saw prest to ruine it selfe for him, ran to his sonne: Love which is too cleere sigh­ted, supplyed the defect of his eyes, and made so strong chaines about him of his two armes, in holding him strictly embraced, that it seemed death was not strong enough to dissolue the knots tyed by so great a charity: He weeping, said,

Iacinthus (my most deare sonne) thinke I am a Father and not a rocke: That I have all those sensible apprehensions which nature can give in the like occa­sions: You know your eldest Brother, and your Sister have already beene stollen from mee in their tender yeeres, to make up the measure of sorrow which I conceived upon the death of your Mother: You are not ignorant that you onely remaine after this la­mentable ship-wracke, and that holding you in my armes it seemes to mee I possesse a broken planke of a vessell which bare my Treasures: I saw all the hopes of my posteritie to flourish againe in you: I saw a support of my declining yeeres: Finally I there [Page 9] there beheld my flesh and bloud, and yet have I given away your life to purchase eyes for my selfe: and do I throw you alive into a Tombe, and make of your bloud a plaister to enioy a cruell health, and a life most infamous? No (my sonne) let mee rather die in my miseries, for which now behold mee standing within the gates of death.

The good blinde man speaking this, sought to make a Bath of his teares for this lamenta­ble sacrifice, whilst others prepared one of bloud for him, nor was it possible to appease him un­till lacinthus had promised, that nothing should bee done without his consent: The youth not­withstanding seeing himselfe free, secretly slipt aside with a purpose to visite the Priests of the Idols, and obtayne his liberty of them. But Clo­doaldus desirous to hold him perpetually (as it were) incorporated to himselfe, perceiving hee was gone, entred into the furies of disconsolate sorrow.

In the meane time the sacrificers being dealt withall in the cause of the suppliant (as praetexts of devotion are ever the most inexorable) grew very stiffe in the bloodiest wayes, encouraged in this affaire by a people timerous, and sottish, who entertaine no motive more violently then that which superstition suggesteth: the poore lambe is seized on, and taken by the throat to dispose him for sacrifice, with so much fervour, as it seemed they would purchase the Sun, wind, raine, and fertility of yeeres through the effusi­on of his blood.

[Page 10] (Reader) Let us here stay a little, and consi­der as we passe along, Tyranny of superstition. the tyranny of superstition, which forgeth horrible chaines to restraine the liberty of men, making crimes to passe for acts of religion, and rendring evill immortall, vnder the colour of a false piety.

Wee have seene Tyrants who have inflicted most strange violences upon free men, as that of Basilius Duke of Muscovia, who commanded his people to bring him glasses filled with sweat for tribute, and Nightingales in Winter; and one [...] who forbad teares to the afflctied, which verily are the gentlest and most reasona­ble wayes nature hath found out for the dis­charge of a heart drenched in ac [...]bities.

Yet never could these cruelties equall the ri­gours of a soule superstitions, which is to it selfe, seafold, punishment, and executioner, when thinking to performe some notable sacrifice, it becomes the instrument of its owne ruine. Who would not tremble to heare that men could per­swade men to thrust a knife into the throat of their Children, and that to sprinkle Idols with their blood was an act merited honour, and which might draw along with it the imitati­on of posterity.

Wee know that a vow ought to have three conditions, Condition of vowed. Iustice, Iudgement, and Truth: Iustice, because it should bee of things iust and lawfull, and therefore he that voweth a crime (as did the Iewes) protesting neither to eate nor drinke till they had killed S. Paul: committeth [Page 11] a double sinne, and if hee execute his vow hee commits a third: Iudgement, in so much as this vow ought to be accompanied with knowledge, deliberation, discretion, and liberty, it being unreasonable to proceed blind-fold in a matter of such importance: Truth, because it should be onely done to the true God.

Behold how that law of our Saviour is resol­ved into reasonable services: but that of Devils bindes to most impious acts with knots of a ne­cessity, that admitteth no qualification. There is not a creature which defendeth the bloud of this innocent; but every one thinks to shed that with sinne, which hath beene vowed without reason. Whether the daughter of Iephte were sa­crificed. If the example of Iephte bee here obie­cted, who made the like vow as Clodoaldus, it is answered, the promise was a rashnes, and accom­plishment a great sinne, according to the decisi­on which S. Hierome giueth here upon. Lyranus, also on the glosse he made upon the Scripture (following herein the greater part of the Hebrew Doctors) holdeth the daughter of Iephte was not sacrificed, but shut up in a Monastery for e­ver, where shee preserved her virginity: atten­ding to prayer, fasting, and austerity of the Na­zaraeans, and not seene by her Parents but foure times in the yeere: this may in some sort be in­setred upon the Hebrew Text: But because Ter­tullian, S. Augustine, S. Hierome, S. Epiphanius, S. Chrysostome, Theodoret, and so great a number of ancient Fathers conclude on a reall sacri­fice, I finde these elder opinions cannot bee [Page 12] contradicted, but with much temeritie.

Yet notwithstanding, whatsoever hath been done without either Law or reason ought not to passe for an example. But the Devill thirsty of humane bloud, falsly perswaded their Priests, the greatest mercy they might vse in this mat­ter, was to become most cruell, which they did, all of them ioyntly condemning the little Iacin­thus to death.

Whilst the victime was in preparation, Arrivall of certaine Gen­tlemen for the deliver­ance of Iacin­thus. cer­tayne Noble Personages bent themselves to free him: and behold among others, two Gentle­men, who arrived in this Forrest of Irminsul, as fitly, as if they had been Angel-guardians of the father and childe: The one of them was Ischyri­on, who wandred up and downe the world to un­derstand the certainty of his owne birth, and the other Faustin his companion. They had now somtime remained in Sexonie, finding there mat­ter enough for brave feats of Armes, which had gained them reputation among Martiallists.

At the first entrance into the wood, An accident of a prisoner. they fell upon a very strange adventure, for night begin­ning to robbe them of day-light: they percei­ved a mooving creature in a certayne thicket; which was the cause that Faustin who was ever very dextrous of hand, supposing it a wilde beast, shot an arrow, which tooke effect: for in­stantly they saw a man issue foorth, who besides that hee was already much disfigured by the great toyle he had undergone, being besmeered with bloud, appeared much more horrible, and [Page 13] came to cast himselfe at their feet, vehemently entreating them to make an end of what they had begun. But strucken with much horror, and compassion hereof, having staunched his bloud, and bound up the wound, which was but light: they caused him briefly to relate his sto­ry, wherein they understood hee had heretofore beene a brave Soldier, and borne armes in Thrace vnder one called Mammuchan whom hee much commended: That after his death he had tra­velled into many countries, and that being taken by chance, he was sold to give matter of pastime to the people in a combat with savage beasts, or to serve as a sacrifice for some Idol: That being fallen into the hands of the sacrificers of Irmin­sul, hee was led along to the altar with a great number of other prisoners to bee sacrificed, but that hee was saved by the helpe of a friend, who had done him this good office, and that expect­ing the opportunity of embarquing on the Ger­man sea, he was enforced to wander up and down in the forrests like a poore Wolfe, not daring to trust any man, so much hee feared to be taken a­gayne, and to bee led backe to the place where­into he no more would willingly re-enter, then into his mothers wombe: For hee added that onely to behold the Idol of Irminsul, and the bloody sacrifices made at his altars, where men, and children were massacred, was so hideous a spectacle, as it was able to teare out of the body a soule which stucke lesse to the flesh, then did his.

[Page 14] Moreover he told them there was a generall bruit, that the next day a very solemne sacrifice should bee made of a youth of a noble house, which was exceeding much deplored. These gal­lants were hereupon greatly pricked on with a spurre of glory: and made a resolution to set him at liberty: But this man, who considered them as hansome young men, and of great hope, much disswaded this enterprize which hee iudged to have in it most certaine perill, and a most uncer­taine victory: but they seeming to make little account of his reasons, he added, they were not onely to fight against men, but savage beasts which kept centinel about this profane Irminsul, and that Lyons made not any differente between the flesh of Peasants, and gentlemen: But that which was able to stay the most adventurous, more enflamed the young valour of these brave Warriors, in such sort, that they retiring into a poore Cabin which this Soldier shewed them, there to passe the night: they concluded to de­termine the matter the next morning.

This proiect seemed to them not rash at all, for they imagined they had nothing to doe, but to force an assembly of Idol-Priests, assisted by certaine guards (wretched enough,) and that, were the act done, they had sufficient intelli­gence with the Nobility of the Country to giue order for their safety.

The Sun seemed to them on that day too tar­dy, Preparation for sacrifice. such haste made they to enter into the List: but as they cast their eyes on every side in expe­ctation [Page 15] of this goodly spectacle, they afarre off beheld all the preparation of the sacrifice which came out of the Castle to enter into the forrest. All this much rather resembled some assembly of Sorcerers, then any pompe or ceremony of religion.

Certaine Children of an ill aspect marched before, and were cloathed in blacke Cassocks, carrying some of them Torches, others perfu­ming-pans in their hands: After came a sacri­ficer, who held a round bason full of water, there­by to notifie one of the most necessary elements, Then two other bare on their shoulders a little altar of silver, wherein there were crosse-barres which discovered the holy fire within.

The poore Iacinthus destined to this office so magicall, was in the midst, and shewed in his car­riage a countenance confident enough. They had clothed him with a garment of white sattin, and set on his head a Coronet of flowers, which made him appeare amongst these ministers of Irminsul, as the day-star over the shades of night. Behind him a man vested with a loose garment of fine litmen without sleeues, shewed a naked sword, which was to cut off the head of this mi­serable sacrifice.

Two or three paces behind appeared the shee Priest Hildegardis, endowed with an exquisite beauty, shee on that day being adorned with a garment all over tissued with rich embroderies, her haire discheveled, and the top of her head crowned with a little myter: she also caried a [Page 16] great silver charger with golden Scyzers to cut off the tops of his haire whom they were to sa­crifice: When the rayes of the Sun reflected on the golden tresses, and the glosse of her garment, seemed as a starre crowned with lights: but o­therwise she walked along with a carelesse pace, and a deiected countenance, which sufficiently witnessed the horror her heart conceived at these hatefull sacrifices. Then marched the high Priest with a most awfull aspect, attended by a very great number of bloody Priests, who were to have a share in this hideous office.

The gallants putting themselues in ambush, failed not very seasonably to fall like Eagles vp­on their prey, Ia [...]inthus taken away. and to use force to take the young man away: Wherevpon certaine of the guards which encompassed the high Priest for the safe­ty of the sacrifice, made a shew of resistance: but finding themselves from the beginning of the Combat so roughly handled, that some armes were seene to fly off, they retired being as spa­ring of their owne bloud, as prodigall of the in­nocents. Hereupon confusion fell aswell in their hearts, as into the order of this dire­full procession, every one from thence forward thinking rather to save his life by the helpe of his feet, then to accomplish his superstition. The matter had beene dispatched, had it not beene that these enraged Priests threw themselves on the sacrifice, crying out, and yelling in a most hideous manner. But being not able to resist the valour of these two generous Lions, the high [Page 17] Priest very cunningly told them they should get no honour by taking this young man from them in such a manner, but if they desired to be victo­rious in a brave warfare: they ought according to the custome of the Countrey to enter into combat with the wild beasts which guarded the forrest of the god. The gallants who feared lest pressing any further they might stifle the lit­tle Iacinthus in their hands, and having an ardent desire not to refuse any occasion which might honour their armes, they freely accepted the conditions, so that the battell with beasts was concluded on, and deferred but till after Dinner: It was an exercise so ordinary with this Nation, that some were found, who voluntarily sold themselves to give the people this contentment; some others hastned thereunto thorough a furi­ous ambition of glory, not considering the danger.

The bruit thereof being spred abroad, the Lists were encompassed with a great number of spec­tators, who were infinitely delighted to behold the perill of those strangers, in the safety of their owne persons. The high Priest had his seat in a very eminent place, and on the other side Hilde­gardis appeared among the Ladies, as a rich Dia­mond amidst counterfeit stones: Shee began from the first encounter to entertaine a great o­pinion of the worth of these two gallants. But when she saw the braue Ischyrion to leape confi­dently into the List, and to expect with a stable foot the dangers, which others could not behold [Page 18] without trembling: even then she felt most ten­der affections of his person, and there were evi­dently observed during all this spectacle divers alterations of her countenance, which one while took the scarlet tincture, presently became pale: and straight shee lifted up her eyes towards hea­ven, in such manner that she felt a fierce combat in her selfe, for him, whom she had never known. First of all, a huge Beare was let loose, who rai­sing himselfe upon his feet, made a shew hee would grapple with Ischyrion: but the excellent Champion deelining the first seizure with a dex­terous agility of body: thought this beast being very weake about the head, it were good to asto­nish him, which he did, when nimbly leaping on him, and bestriding him as a horse, hee gave him many blowes, wherewith the Beare became so enraged, that hee many times ran up and downe the Amphitheater as swift as a tempest: where­upon loud out-cries were made on every side, the gallant finding himselfe assured of his seat, cou­ragiously pursued the beast, which utterly asha­med, hastned to hide himselfe in a corner of the List: no man being able to pricke him forward againe to undertake the like course.

An other beare was dispatched against Faustin, whom he knocked downe with a clubbe hee held in his right hand, a matter not difficult for his valour: since many Beares haue beene hereto­fore killed with blowes of the fist, by wrastlers in the Roman Amphitheater.

The high Priest extreamly offended, cryed [Page 19] out a loud to the master of these Beasts to put out one of his fiercest Lions in the face of the Combatants, which made Hildegardis waxe pale through feare she conceived therat: This king of beasts shewed in the very beginning of the com­bat he had not much desire to assaile a man: For he long time stood a good distance off, with his eyes fixed on the ground, so that needs must Is­chyrion provoke him, which he did, throwing a lit­tle Iavelin at him to serve as an eatrance into this perillous Duel: Then began hee to roare very loud, and beating his sides with his taile, ranne upon the gallant, who offered a Iavelin at him which hee had in his hand, but he avoiding the iron, flew upon the wood, which he rent, and pulled in pieces with his teeth, thundring out a­gaine a hideous roare which cast astonishment among the spectators: The valorous Ischyrion putting himselfe into a ready posture, drew his sword out of the scabbard, on which the beames of the Sun reflecting; made a lustre to sparkle ve­ry lively into the eyes of his adversary which at that time began to amaze him, and hee remem­bring hee had heard this beast bare part of his strength in his sight, tooke a cloake which hee then had wreathed about his arme: and unfold­ing it threw it very successefully upon the eyes of the Lion, where with he found himselfe much disturbed: so that watching his advantage, hee transfixed his belly with his sword which made him fall downe, rowling and tumbling in his owne gore.

[Page 20] Vpon this atchievement the clamours were redoubled thoroughout the Amphitheater, some crying out with ioy and applause, others for rage: but the high Priest, who at any price would have the life of these strangers, very vche­mently declared to the people.

They had killed the nurslings of god, thorough a most insolent bravado: and that if they instantly reven­ged not his quarrell, nothing might bee expected all this whole yeere but dearths, ruines, and extreme de­solations. As for himselfe, hee was satisfied with gi­uing them advice, and that if these his counsels were not followed, hee at least washed his hands from the pollution of sacred bloud, vnworthily shed before their eyes.

It is a strange thing, The taking of the gentle­men. the motiues of supersti­tion proceed to points of fury, such as one would hardly imagine. Diodor. [...]. 4. Wee know by the History of Diodorus, that a furious sedition was raised in E­gypt for the death of a Cat, one of the Beasts sacred among those, which these Idolaters ado­red: and impossible it was otherwise to appease it, then by the murther of a Roman Soldier, who by chance gave the blow, not thinking thereon. Wherefore let no man esteeme it incredible, if the people enflamed by the orations of the high Priest for the revenge of a Beare, and a Lion, so­dainly raised so desperate a sedition, that almost the whole Amphitheater, fell upon the poore Gentlemen, no man daring to afford them helpe, and there is no doubt but they had been torne [Page 21] in peeces, had not the high Priest, who would husband his crimes, and drinke vengeance in full draughts, made a signe to reserve them to be sa­crificed, yet did they not yeeld themselves, but with giving notice with their swords of the ef­fects of their courage upon the confused heape of dead, and wounded, who fell at their feet, but being overwhelmed with a prodigious num­ber of desperate men, who beset them on every side, needs must they yeeld to necessity: and stretch out those hands to fetters, which deser­ved palmes and crownes.

The History now transferreth us to recount an honourable passion of the virgin Hildegardis, An honour [...] ble passion [...] Hildegardis. towards these valiant prisoners, which we cannot omit without offering wrong to this discourse: nor can wee speake it but with much caution, therein rather seeking the instruction of our Rea­ders, then their delight. If those who have con­secrated their pens to the tickling of the eare, and vanity of an eloquent stile, had such an Hi­story in their hands, Concharum [...] semata. I am perswaded they would make many dishes of this action, and trum­pet out worldly loues with conceptions, and imaginations like to those pearles which being corrupted in their birth, promise in the begin­ning an excellent substance, and produce no­thing but winde: wee neither can, nor will be so affectedly fluent, having from our younger daies devoted our stile, as well as our soule to the Al­tars of purity. Let us be satisfied to observe a notable doctrine touching the diversitie of loves [Page 22] and sinceritie of true amities, to serve for a helpe and guide in that which wee here purpose to de­lineate.

The Soule according to the saying of anci­ents, Diversitie of Loves. is a shipp: the rowers thereof are loves, (as the noble Maximus of Tyre hath wittily obser­ved,) and as among rowers there are very many conditions: for some are miserable slaves, who row of necessity, others doe it out of bravery, or vertue: as the incomparable King S. Lewis, who scorned not sometimes to take an oare in hand to row in stead of a mariner whilst he sent him to learne his Catechisme. So may we truly say, there are loves wholy carnall, base, and terrestri­all, which absolutely adhere to slavery: others spirituall, noble, and worthy, which wee rather call by the name of amities.

All love hath this proper in it, it goeth, it sai­leth, and liveth out of it selfe in complacence of the thing beloved: but taketh notable differen­ces according to the obiects to which it adhe­reth. For the carnall, resembling Noe's Raven, is wholly confined to carrion, and ends in bruitish­nesse. The Spirituall tendeth to vertues, to per­fections, to the lively images of honesty, which have in them contentments, and delights in­effable.

It is very true, this Hildegardis, who as yet li­ved in gentilisme, could not imprint foot-steps totally purified in these amities: yet was there nothing carnall and grosse in it, for shee felt her heart worthily entertained with the image of a [Page 23] great goodnesse, and equall worth, which she saw resplendent in these gallants, since they had free­ly exposed themselves to death for the preserva­tion of a person, who according to the iudgment of all the world nothing cōcerned them, & had so bravely carried themselves in the field of battell. Behold the way wherein ordinarily spirituall a­mities insist, Proceeding of spirituall amities. they begin by admiration of some excellency: which being a ray of the Divinitie striketh the understanding: and as the carnall is taken in the snare which the flesh stretcheth foorth, so the spirituall eye is enflamed, and ra­vished with the obiect of a Spirituall beau­tie.

This admiration is attended by another de­gree, which is the conformity of the will, with that good which is proposed unto it, causing the soule to begin to take fire, and force sparkes of desire to flie out in courting that good, shee fi­gures unto herselfe. Then it gaineth another degree, which is, that of sharpe and sweet com­placence, pleasingly entertained with the thoughts of its obiect: one while in hope to possesse it, another while in feare to loose it: and with sundry other passions which accompanie this delectation, as yet painfull, and suffering: From complacence one is transported to a search, where love assumeth wings to flie to the bosome of its repose, therein imploying all pos­sible meanes to content it selfe: and if it be fa­voured in its pursuit, it commeth to mutuall vni­on of wills, of affections, good turnes, communi­cations, [Page 24] and presence from whence finally ariseth another complacence no longer laborious, Divers agita­tions of mind in Hildegardis. and embroyled, but satisfied, and pleased in the frui­tion of its obiect. This poore mayd not think­ing thereof, ranne thorough all these degrees in a very short time: For after her heart was surpri­zed with admiration of the great and heroicke vertues of these yong warriors: she felt her faire soule infinitely transported to wish them well: and as shee saw their innocency unworthily op­pressed under the Tyranny of the high Priest, so compassion comming to entermingle with admiration, they emulously blew those gene­rous flames, with which her heart was enkindled. The entred she into languors, which were nei­ther soft, nor effeminate, into ardours sweet, and spritefull, which gave to her heart an operation perpetually labouring for accomplishment of the good shee proposed to her selfe. Shee was bent on this designe and resisted with animosity of imaginations, all the obstacles which feare did present her. It seemed to her, that should she hew thorough mountaynes, passe thorough thornes and burning serpents, rush among swords and launces, her happinesse would never bee too dearely purchased: She had but one desire, which was to dissolue her heart into him, who had so gloriously gained it.

When she returned from the Amphitheater to her lodging, she took a singular contentment to discourse with her selfe what had passed, and although the condition of affaires permitted not [Page 25] freedome of speech, she notwithstanding suffici­ently discovered her selfe more to incline to pity, then rigour: and if some one spake any word in favour of the prisoners, shee began to hold him in good esteeme, as a faithfull servant, and worthy instrument of her pretentions.

But when shee retired into her chamber to take some repose, (as solitude and night are pro­per to foster passions) that was the time those cares which were in the bottome of her soule, be­gan to breake forth, and dilate themselves in a very long traine of confused and ill digested pur­poses.

All the combat which passed in the circuit of the Lists was renewed in the closure of her heart, stil the brave Ischyrion returned into her thoughts one while how he chased the Beare, then how he overthrew the Lyon, sometime how hee was all covered over with sweat and bloud amongst the huge heapes of the dead, which fell under the va­lour of his victorious hands: But when she came to consider the fetters on his feet in this darke dungeon, and that shee reflected upon this infer­nall sacrifice wherein she was to bee imployed in the destruction of the most lovely creature of the world; shee was engulfed in the horror and af­frightment of her thoughts. The mournefull virgin a hundred and a hundred times detested the day which destined her to this abhominable condition; she cursed to all the furies of Hell, both Priest, altars, and sacrifices to which shee had hitherto offered her service thorough a su­perstition, [Page 26] which had therein as much infamy, as credulity.

It was the time, that all living creatures were involved in the veyle of night, and charmed with the naturall sweetnesse of sleepe, when the sad Hildegardis like a sick eie, did nothing but watch, weepe, and tremble for her wel-beloved: One while unable any longer to endure the distur­bances of her bed, as if it had beene the cause of her cares, she walked up and downe her cham­ber like a ghost; sometimes shee opened the window, and seeing Heaven enameled with an in­finite number of stars: shee said to herselfe; A­mongst so many eyes which watch in this great Temple of God, is there not some one that un­dertakes the commission of the events of the world, which may command some ray to arise in the confusion of my affaires? Then remembring within her selfe the contentment of her fathers house, which she had tasted in her most innocent yeeres: her taking away, her fortune, her im­ployment, the tedious yeeres, which saw her drenched in this miserable servitude; she breath­ed foorth sighes, and moystened her bosome with teares, which seemed, ought to be without measure, as her evill was without remedy.

Sometime it came into her thoughts, that perhaps some divine power had sent these two young gallants for her deliverance, and that shee should not refuse the good fortune which now did (as it were) knocke at her dore, then instant­ly shee smiled at her owne imagination, and [Page 27] thorough an infinite care she had to preserve her virginity perpetually inviolable: it seemed to her that her minde was too much employed on the image of her deare Ischyrion; her young heart which had not learned to love any creature in this manner, doubted her first flames, and feared to trust her selfe with her owne secret.

Then she blamed her owne simplicity as too scrupulous, being perswaded shee ought not to resist the inspiration of so holy an amity, and that this fire was not unlike the rayes of the Sunne which enkindle the Phoenix his nest.

If in the agitation of her thoughts she strove to shut an eye; her repose was presently assailed with affrightments, and fantasies which figured unto her hideous images of her calamity: some­times shee thought she saw her best beloved cut in peeces in this most enormous sacrifice, and that hee implored her aide with a dying voice: One while she brake prison with him, and found therein resistance that hindered her designes: an other while shee ranne thorough frightfull for­rests and wildernesses, in the company of her Is­chyrion: another while she sayled vpon seas full of Monsters, and Tempests, and in an instant, saw her selfe surprised by the high Priest, who re­proached her with ingratitude, and infidelity: His menacing countenance pursued her as a sha­dow of hell, it shut her up in dungeons, it put fetters on her feet, and hands, it, in her opinion condemned her to dye in flames, and to serue for a spectacle of terrour to all those, who had ado­red [Page 28] her as a Divinity. Amongst all these hor­rours shee had not any thought more sweet than death, which shee began to reflect on with an amorous eye, as the Haven of the perturbations of her minde. She perswaded her selfe, that who can no longer hope for ought, should feare no­thing, and that the most undoubted remedy of all miseries was the extremity of those miseries, which ended in the last period of their violence, since the divine providence hath not made an im­mortall evill, for things mortall.

So soone as shee saw the first rayes of day­light to breake forth, she went to seeke out her faithfull Araspus, Hildegardis dis­covered her purpose to foster-Father Araspus. who was at that time the only creature of the world, into whose heart she might powre forth her thoughts with full security: He was her foster father, bred up formerly in her fa­thers house, a man of extraction noble enough, witty, and couragious, no whit degenerating from his Nobility. Hee had ever bred the yong Mayd with unspeakable tendernesse, and being in her company when she was surprized, had put himselfe into defence, and received some wounds which caused him stil to cary notable characters of his loyalty. Afterwards hee being taken to­gether with her by these theeves: they seeing the childe was in danger of death if shee lost the company of this man, thought it unfit to remove him from her. And he being very discreet, quick­ly got credit among the Barbarians, mannaging with much dexterity the safety and repose of his Hildegardis, untill such time as God sent [Page 29] some fayre occasion to worke her libertie.

Araspus then seeing her enter into his cham­ber, well perceived she was not in any good tune, and said unto her: Daughter, what brings you hither? Hee who should behold your countenance would thinke your mind were full of discontent. But she at that time laying aside all complements, and thinking of nothing but to empty her heart of what sur­charged it: demaunded of him, whither hee had thoroughly observed all that passed in the mat­ter of these gallants, and hee replying one must be without eyes, if they were not open to behold so prodigious valour. This word extremely pleased the faithfull Lover, and gave her occasi­on to enlarge upon their praise with discourses superlative enough, which she could not end, but with compassion of their misery: for she bitter­ly bewayled to see such eminent vertues under the knife of furies. But Araspus seeking to com­fort her, and shewing that in a matter already passed we have no better remedy then forgetful­nesse, and in case of impossibility, no other power but the acknowledgement of our infirmities, she wide opened her heart, and said unto him,

Araspus,) you know you have beene obliged to all our family, and by how many titles I may account you mine: Needs must I confesse, since my misfortune hath enthral­led mee with captivity, I have ever cast an eye on you, as an Angel-guardian appointed by the gods for my safety. I have made you the depository of all my crosses, counsels, all my thoughts: and if in such confusion of affaires, I [Page 30] have received any hope, I no sooner felt it bud in my hart, but have beene willing to make it bloome in your bosome. You are not ignorant that since my captivity I have lived on gall and teares, nor have found anything else then thornes in an age, wherein Mayds of my condition use not to walke but on roses. How often have you seene mee in the accesses of sorrow, so violent, as they were able to rend my soule foorth, if my good Genius had not preserved it for a more prosperous fortune: you used to tell mee I must bee patient, and that a happy day would come which should breake my fetters, and wipe away all my teares. Now know (my deare Araspus) that day is come that if I once neglect my happinesse, it will passe a­way, nor ever shall I againe so much as touch the tips of its wings. It is most undoubted that Heaven ta­king some pitty on my griefe, hath sent us these two gen­tlemen, of whose strength and valour you have had testi­mony enough, wherefore I am resolved by some way or o­ther to set them at liberty, and suffer them to take mee from hence, that so I may bee restored to my Fathers house. This is a plot which cannot bee condemned by a­ny, who have not utterly abandoned humane affection.

And if you alleage, you therein finde very many dif­ficulties; I answere, good things are not otherwise com­passed: All must be hazarded to gaine all, at the worst I have nothing to loose; but a most miserable life. If you will not expose your selfe to perill in this affaire: at least deny mee not your counsell. The substance of it I put not into deliberation, I onely aske what course wee must hold in the execution. [...]nswer of Araspus.

Araspus was much amazed to understand the [Page 31] bold proiect of this spirit, which had never beene unfolded in such manner, and assuredly iudged this cogitation had gayned so deepe roots in her heart, that it would be a matter very difficult to oppose her resolutions. Notwithstanding he re­plyed: (Most deare daughter) it were superfluous to entertaine you with discourse of the services I have de­dicated to your noble Family: yea, much lesse on the pow­erfull and ardent affections which transport me to desire your liberty, wherein I behold mine owne engaged:

Beleeve mee (sweet creature) you ill desire the best thing in the world, and by making an attempt unseaso­nably, you ruine all your endevours for the future. You will not (as far as I can perceive) descend from your pri­son, but by precipitation, and once to preserve your selfe contrary to the rules of prudence, you reioyce to undoe your selfe for ever, by the wayes of temerity. All that, which ordinarily is used to destroy good affaires, is it which now you employ to make yours successefull Passion, Disorder, Hast, Precipitation, hold counsell in your yong heart, whilst reason is exiled: You speake of setting these two young Gentlemen at libertie: how would you give tha to others, which you have not your selfe? Is there not a gaoler at the gates of these prisons? Are there not guards in the Castle? Are there not centi­nels who watch on all sides? And were all of them fast a sleepe, what meanes will there bee to deceive a Priest who hath Argos eyes perpetually open upon your per­son: nay, should you break two iron gates, three others would make resistance. This whole Castle is (as it were) nothing but a continuall prison, wherein the birds of the ayre would have enough to doe to save themselves? But [Page 32] if it once happen you bee surprized in the act, (of which there are very strong apparances) you thrust your selfe into hazard, either to bee burnt alive, or to involve your whole life in the deepest miseries which may bee imagi­ned. But (daughter) had you all you could desire to your hearts wish: can you thinke it were fit to put your selfe into the hands of these young strangers, who for the most part have no more fidelity then the sea, and winds? Remember, you hitherto have preserved the precious treasure of virginity, wherein the lawes of the Countrey have infinitely favoured you, and that there needs but one houre to loose that in peace, which hath been main­tained by ten yeeres warre. This vertue (if you know it not) is all of glasse, one unadvised touch of the finger, is of power to breake it in the brightest splendor of its lustre.

Behold your selfe now in an estate wherein you have gained reputation, and honours are done you as to a Di­vinity: Let time sweetly slide away, and expect till the fruit be ripe, which of it selfe will fall. We heare the standards of Charlemaign the prime Monarch of the world, menace this Countrey: what know you whether heaven have not put your freedome and happinesse into his hands. But (deare and most honoured Lady) if you have heretofore made some account of my words, at this time despise not my teares. Yeeld your selfe up to rea­son, so to render you to your selfe. I have ever heard it sayd, that the counsels of youth have much promptnesse, but repentance which followes them, doth likewise finde them out with ready wing: and never leaves them, but with leaden feet.

This Oration strengthened with wisedome, [Page 33] and affection, ought to have made a powerfull impression on the heart of a vestall: But we must affirme it is one of the greatest miracles in the world to make a creature of this sexe, which hath given admittance to some violent passion, freely to doe homage to a truth acknowledged.

Affections are oft-times as easily put on, Sticking pas­sions. as a shirt, but if we speake of dispoyling them, it is found they sticke much closer then the skinne. Should you alleage a thousand reasons to a soule surprized with selfe-love, you shall gaine but this one conclusion: I know what I have to doe.

Yea it hath beene many times observed in the experiments of humane life, Proper iudg­ment to be feared in De­votion. that persons who make profession of a life most eminent, and to be purified, and refined in devotion, and the know­ledge of things divine, if they be not fore-armed with profound humility, doe eagerly sticke to their owne opinion, nay certainly you shall find of them, who after they have overcome divels, become divels to themselves. Hildegardis was in an age, and a degree wherein the words of this good man had no longer that effect which they formerly had in her education.

It is strange to see how soone lovers and sicke folkes become angry: shee so with-stood his ad­vice, that she doubted not to say to poore Aras­pus. Prudence of Araspus. That either hee was a coward, or a Traytor to her fortune: and that notwithstanding all this discourse, shee was resolved either to flie, or die. Hee, who saw this spirit like to a swolne sea, thought it was but to loose words to speak in so impetuous [Page 34] astorme of passion: but not wholy to disengage her from his counsell, yeelding to the time hee very gently said, wee must then endevour to han­dle this businesse with a soft touch, and to disco­ver no part hereof to any, who is not worthy of much trust: for oftentimes too many Physici­ans, and counsellers overthrow sicke bodies, and doubtfull causes: So much reioyced she in this consent, that instantly casting her selfe about his necke, she embraced him, craving pardon, and promising that all this designe should proceed according to his intentions, that he alone should dispose all things necessary for their departure: and shee her selfe undertake the rest.

It is most true, her credit was not small, for be­sides that these Barbarians honoured this Prin­cesse of virgins, whom they served in the Tem­ple as a Divinity, Hildegardis by her sweet dis­position, and obliging courtesies in the space of Foureteene or Fifteene yeeres, had with ease gai­ned good servants, who shee thought would not faile her at her need: shee likewise had so abso­lute a power to visit prisons, to enter into dunge­ons, and many times at her request to enlarge pri­soners, as it seemed to promise her much facili­ty in a project, which was otherwise impossible: It also happened very fortunately, that the exe­cution of offenders was put off till another day, for certaine customes of antiquity, and religion, that are strong chaines among people, and which gave her full scope to accomplish her desires. Power of women.

Wee daily see among many occurrents of af­faires, [Page 35] that to be verified, which an ancient Au­thor said, who having made a large recitall of all the naturall armes which God giveth creatures: he affirmes a women eminently hath them all, and that there is neither fire, nor sword, which yeeldeth not either to beauty, or cunning wyles which with them are very frequent. She is able to walke thorough a Corps-du-guard, to pierce Rockes, and to seat her selfe in places, where no­thing can penetrate, but lightning. Hildegardis so mannaged her businesse in a short time, that a hundred iron gates were all-most ready to fly open at her command.

Shee having disposed so many affections to her service, Hildegardis vi­siteth the pri­soners. failed not to visite the prisoners, whom she knew naturally, much to desire their liberty. Shee went about mid-night into the dungeon, accompanied only with a trusty maid­servant, and a page, who bare a Torch before them: The poore gentlemen extremely weary with the labours of the former day, and who after so great a perplexity of thoughts, began to sleep upon their sadnesse, hearing the great dore to o­pen with a confused noise: they suddenly awake­ned, but when they beheld this heavenly face which promised more day-light to their affaires, then the torch could afford to their eyes, it see­med unto them some Divinity favourable to their affections, was descended into the dungeon to comfort them: but perceiving it was the she-Priest of the Temple, which had charge to at­tend the sacrifices, they were somewhat astoni­shed: [Page 36] But the generous Ischyrion cried out aloud, (Madame) what is the matter, come you then to leade us out to butchery? Shee desirous to sound them, answered, (Sir,) trouble not your selfe, but as you have fought valiantly, dispose your selves to die bravely. To which he replyed, he was already thoroughly prepared, and asked her if it were she must do the deed? To which she answered: That never had she learned the trade to cut mens throats, but that she was onely to assist in the sacrifice: and to cut off the tipps of the victimes haire, to throw the first fruits into the flames.

I, at the least render thankes to my fortune (saith Faustin) that we are fallen into so good a hand: and that since wee must needes die, our death shall be honoured with the eyes of such a beauty. Vpon this Hildegardis felt her heart sur­prized, and stood some distance of time without speaking one word: casting her eyes on the yong Iacinthus, kept in the same dungeon: and who notwithstanding the light and voice still slept se­curely. Behold (saith Ischyrion) how this child doth allie the brother to the sister, that is, sleepe to death? Why should wee so much feare death, since to speake truly it is (as it were) nothing else but to per­forme once for all, what Iacinthus now doth, and what wee daily doe many times. Then turning himselfe with a smiling countenance to the vestall, (Ma­dame) saith he should wee dare to hope a favour from you, we would not beg life: For wee know wee are accounted in the number of the most wretched sacrifices, and that the people must be [Page 37] appeased by our death: Doe then but save this little innocent, pardon the tendernesse of his age, take pity on the sorrow of his father: verely we may vaunt even in these dungeons, hee is our deare conquest, and that we have purchased him in a sharpe combat, at the price of our bloud: which causeth his death to afflict us more sensi­bly then our owne.

At this word Hildegardis breathed foorth a deepe sigh, which shee notwithstanding sought to smoother: yet turning to her companion, she said,

Verely this heart is truly generous, what could hee doe more, should hee pleade his brothers cause? Behold what contempt of death, what resolution? It is fittest for such to live, since they so well know how to use life.

Therevpon drawing neere vnto him, (Sir said shee,) Doe me the honour to tell me your name, and what you are: He replyed there needed in him for sacrifice, but body and soule, as for his name, it served for no other use. That all which miserable men can doe, is wisely to conceale themselves, and that among disasters the most secret were ever the best for generous soules. This answere more enkin­dled the curiosity of the Lady to enquire after that, which he was willing to dissemble, so that seeing himselfe pressed on all sides, he said, (Ma­dame) I am called Ischyrion since you must needs know it, and I intreat you to thinke, I doe not now begin to fight with Monsters; for my whole life resembleth those pieces of Tapistry, where [Page 38] Dragons are seene among golden apples; It is a perpetuall web of miseries, and glories; there was never any thing so various: I have beene told I sprang from regall bloud, but being very young, and unknowne, was stolne a­way by Pirates, and then recovered againe by shepherds; whereof Thoas, the most eminent a­mong them, was pleased to breed mee with his owne sonne Faustin here present; with whom I have vowed a most faithfull and strict amity: After that, I had a vehement desire to travell all the world over with him, and to make enquiry into my birth, which I have hitherto done: nor is there any place of fame in the habitable world, to which in this my youth I have not travelled, and ennobled it with some conquest: wee toge­ther have seene above a hundred times the gates of death wide open to receive us; but still our good Genius found some way for our deliverance, untill now I see no helpe at all: verely in my o­pinion, death alone must shew mee the place, where my parents are.

He cut off these words very short, unwilling to seeme either vaine-glorious in recitall of his owne adventures, or suppliant to purchase life by the history of his travels: But shee who considered these discourses, like unto Pictures which tell more then they expresse: not being a­ble any longer to dissemble her heart, which shee seemed to distill with her teares, having broken some very deepe sobs, said unto him,

Worthy sir, and friend: God hath not created [Page 39] me a rocke to be insensible of humane miseries: I plainly see your atchievements very neere ap­proach the fortunes of our house, and it seemes the web of our destinies hath passed thorough the one, and the same hand: For my father had a sonne taken from him when he was very young; a while after the death of his wife, (my thrice honoured Mother) which drenched him into so deep a sorrow, that thorough griefe he expected death. Hee notwithstanding com­forted himselfe in me, beholding me in most in­nocent yeeres, of a nature very cheerefull: and doubted not but that I in time might bring him a sonne, on whom he might repose his decaying age. But who is able to penetrate the turnes, and winding wayes of this great Laborinth of time? and the employments of worldly affaires: In a short space I was snatched from him by a no­torious theft; leaving him with a childe yet in the Cradle, and after many adventures, I have scene my selfe confined to this place of Massa­cres, to become the most unfortunate creature of the World.

But now that I may speake vnto you with an open heart, I every moment die; and each day a thousand times abhor my wretched life, capti­ved vnder the most infamous tyranny, may hap­pen to a creature of my condition. Wherefore (most heroicke and generous gentlemen) I con­iure you by your inviolable friendship, your ad­ventures, your danger, and mine; take mee from hence, to restore me to the house of my Father. [Page 40] Save your owne lives to preserve mine; and think not you atchieve a slight conquest in redeeming your owne selves, and making mee a paterne of your triumph, for perhaps it may proove one of the most glorious acts, which the Sun enlight­neth, or the earth sustaineth.

Ischyrion well perceived shee had taken fire, and that she spake in a good tone, since she seasoned every word with her tears: Notwithstanding to make her give more lustre to this discourse, he said unto her; Madame, it is to make triall of us, and to sound if in these images of death wee bee capable of vaine hopes? If you wished us so well, as your words witnesse; you might finde men fit enough to yeeld you true service. How (Sir) replyeth shee, doe yee thinke these words which I moysten with the waters of mine eyes, are counterfeit? I command in this place, and have absolute power to set you all at liberty, to mount you on horsebacke, to arme you, so that you employ the sword which I will put into your hands, for my safety. I use not to enter­taine any man with dreames, and illusions; I am the daughter of a Prince, and my father com­mandeth over a large Territory. Onely make unto me a religious, and solemne oath, that you will deliver me with all honour, and integrity in­to the Kingdome of Denmarke, in such a place as I will direct you; and beleeve me my father shall not bee ungratefull; nay, nor prove unable to requite your good office.

The brave Ischyrion became wholly ravished [Page 41] with such goodnesse, and very faithfully prote­sted to her all she desired. Therevpon she cau­sed their irons to be strucken off; and appoin­ted the houre of their departures, which was to be the same night. Behold hopes in flowre, the most sweet and charming of the world: but they were sodainly blasted by a furious storm of haile.

There was a certaine Damsell among the virgins of the Temple called Geronda, Hildegardis betrayed. of an ill disposition, and a cunning wit; who for a long time, had fought meanes to satifie the ma­lice, she conceived against the poore Hildogardis: and this occasion seemed unto her the most happy opportunity, which might bee found for her ends. It is a strange thing, how the most fer­vent friendships of the world, oftentimes dege­nerate into the vehement [...]st enmities: What worldly amities are. and that the most desperate hatreds are such as spring from love ill mannaged. There are certaine bo­dies ill disposed (say Physioians) that quickly putrifie in balme, which is made to hinder cor­ruption, so are their hearts which draw corrupti­on from love; from whence they should derive immortality.

These two virgins had been bred together from their most tender yeeres; and were so straightly linked in amity that they had but one heart betweene them. Geronda sprang from one of the best families of the Countrey; being placed in this Castle of Irminsul, to bee trayned up with the virgins; and seeing shee came at the same time, when the young Hildegardis was brought [Page 42] thither, she was from her child-hood so taken, with her worthy disposition, that shee neither had contentment, nor life, but in her conversati­on. The beame doth not more accompany the Sunne, nor the shadow the body, then these two creatures esteemed one another; they equal­ly shared all their ioyes, and discontents, all their affaires, all their recreations, and seemed willing to dissolue their hearts, as one would melt one peece of waxe into another.

Behold, there is a certaine malignity in hu­mane things, which so handleth the matter, that they never are so neere declining, as when they arrive at the highest period of their happinesse: nay, the same is observed in the loves of the world, which insensibly wither away, when they are mounted to the highest point of the con­tentments which nature can expect. The great fervours of these two companions changed first into a coldnesse; from coldnesse, into distaste; from distaste into aversion; from aversion into enmity. It is true the spirit of Hildegardis was too free and generous to give occasion that such effects should grow from her: but the other was double, crafty, malicious, ayming at particular ends; and walked in the way of not loving any body; in that she was too much fixed on the loue of her selfe. These fractions began by petty jealousies, which in that sexe are very frequent: For many with passion desire to be sin­gularly beloved, and courted; thinking a great affront is put upon them, when they are set in the [Page 43] number of things indifferent. The worthy and eminent quallities, which our Hildegardis recei­ved from nature, as a dowry: and comming to sprout with yeeres, as flowers which spred them­selves to the rayes of the Sunne; was the cause that courtships, services, and admirations seem­ed onely to be made for her. Geronda, who was entertained in her affection, thought to divide her happinesse with her, as she did her heart: grew very angry to see her too much courted, and thought the honour done to her companion, tur­ned to her disadvantage. From this jealousie, envie was created, which discoloured her face, cast poyson into her veynes; withered her up a­live: and made her to behold all the prosperities of this admirable mayd with the same eye, the Owle doth the Sunne.

When for merit she was chosen out to be the Princesse of virgins; this envious heart was wounded to the quicke at this election, and spa­red not to condemne her discretion, and cariage: raysing a great storme of fruitlesse words, like to a cloud; which growne big with flames and tempest, cracks it selfe in vaine upon the top of the highest rockes.

It happened the innocent Hildegardis, who en­devoured to cure this envenomed spirit; having discovered some passages, where-into shee very far had proceeded, reproached her with it, which in the proud spirit of the other, not able so easily to digest it; bred a mortall hatred, which never ceased to hatch the vengeance in her bosom, that [Page 44] was in the end discovered in this mischievous occasion. It is evidently to be seen in all this pro­ceeding, that affections which are truly naturall, not speaking of the fire, which enflameth Angels in heaven, and the most purified hearts on earth, are clouds without water; which rent asunder with the least shocke: and bring nothing foorth, but winde.

I have seen some who have taken much paines to decide in what sexe the most constant amities may bee found: Amity in what sexe most con­stant. nor am I ignorant that divers Ladies of honour have by all meanes endevour­ed to draw the palme of victory to their side, (as we have seene examples very singular of most ex­act fidelity in that sexe) witnesse the Princesse Blaunch, who despising the love of Actoline, that sought her (though she were a captive) escaped the hands of Soldiers, that she might hasten to breathe out her life on the Tombe of her Hus­band, to whom she at first had resigned her heart.

On the other part we may likewise produce an infinite number of men, who have done wonders unheard of; and not to be imagined in matter of amity; as that Dandamis (of whom Lucan speak­eth,) who passed over a huge River by swimming among haile-stormes of Tartarian arrowes, which showred upon him, that hee might goe to the succour of his friend imprisoned, and they de­manding his eyes for ransome, hee most free­ly pulled them out, and delivered them up: gi­ving by this blindnes, incomparable lights to a­mity.

[Page 45] Wee will not conclude in one History, that which requireth along treatise, Plin: l. 7. c. [...] velocitas cogit [...]tionum, animi celeritas, et in [...]nij va [...]ietas mu [...]tiformes notas imprimit. but passing on, tell you, that if wee consider the loue of many men of the world, wee shall finde they love bru­tishly; begin fervently, proceed with fury, and end with ingratitude. Women also considered in the infirmities of nature; they being full of imaginations above all the creatures of the world (said an ancient) have beene transported, and have entertained affections very variable, easily sticking on all sorts of obiects; and suffe­ring themselves to be surprised with apparances, to be ensnared with novelties; to grow passio­nate at offences, and to be transported with dis­taste, in such manner, that one may rest assured, there are no constant friendships, but those which are honest, and watered with the sources of grace; from which this Geronda being aliena­ted, turned all her affections into poyson.

That which furthered her passion was, that a certaine man named Gandulphus, in whom Hil­degardis had heretofore reposed much confi­dence in the mannage of her affaires, percei­ving what she went about; whether moved that he was not called to this counsell, and desirous to secure himselfe whatsover should happen, or whither he were in love with Geronda, whose affe­ction he might pretend unto (these virgins being not tyed to perpetuall chastity) went thorough unspeakable indiscretion to tell all to this subtill creature: well manifesting by his practises, the truth of the saying of that ancient, who affirmed [Page 46] that to be wise, and in love together is more then gods can doe. [...]apere, et amare [...]ix Deo concedi­ [...]r. Publ. Syrus. Geronda extending this relation to the measure of her hatred, addeth that Hilde­gardis was resolved to deliver the Cittadell to the enemy, to ruine the authority of high Priests, to kill the Soldiers, to put the lives and fortunes of all the Citizens into rapine; where­of she very speedily gave intelligence to the Ca­stle, discovering all the circumstances shee had newly learned.

The high Priest having received notice of that which was intended, came himselfe in person to the Prison, attended by his gards, where he found Hildegardis at the doore, [...]urprise of Hildegardis. with the prisoners un­fettered: What have we here to doe (daughter, saith he) and what game have you now in hand? The poore Maid wished at that time the Earth would open under her feet, even to the Abysse, so much was she oppressed with griefe, and confusion. Notwith­standing being very discreet, she in such a surpri­sall forgot not the subtilties of her sexe: for she protested that by the duty of her charge, shee came to sound these prisoners, of purpose to ob­serve whither they were pure, and perfect enough to bee sacrificed, but that by relation of their lives she found they were so despicable, and for­saken vagabonds, that it were but to put a scorne upon the great Irminsul, to yeeld such an oblati­on: And as for the fetters taken from them, they had begged to get this release, so to gaine one houre of repose, which she had granted them, un­der a good and sure guard. The high Priest cri­ed [Page 47] out aloud hereupon. Behold a shamelesse creature, shall wee then beleeve that she is a virgin? It is the golden lockes of this young stranger, that hath woven nets for her profane heart; It is those eyes, which have enkindled so many flames in her affections, and made her put on a resolution to to forsake god and his Temple, to follow an a­dulterer. Shee very sensible of reproach in the point of honour, entred upon his speech into a desperate mood; calling the high Priest Hypo­crite, Ravisher, Bloud-sucker, crafty cheater, with all the iniurious words which passion could suggest: Whereupon hee caused her to be layd hold on with her trusty friend, and to be put into a dungeon apart: loading the prisoners with more irons, and changing the guards.

The miserable Ischyrion forgetting his prison, and chaines, sighed out all the rest of the night for his dearest Hildegardis; he complained, that it being once in his power to die, hee would needs live to the prejudice of a soule so precious: he asked a hundred bodies of the divine provi­dence to suffer in a thousand and a thousand members, if it were possible; and to satisfie the cruelty of these Tartarians, so they would spare her, who (it seemed to him) was worthy to sur­viue all ages.

The next morning a bruit was spred thorough­out all the Towne, Passions of the high Priest that the Vestall had a pur­pose to betray the Temple: that she was in pri­son; and that they went about to proceed a­gainst her. And verily the high Priest, who for a [Page 48] long time observed some coldnesse in her, and had lately beene so touched to the quicke, was resolved to satisfie his passion, under colour of service of the gods, and to ruine this poore maid, to subrogate another in her place; whom he thought would prove more plyant to his com­maunds. For this cause he called together an as­sembly of Priests, Iudges, and Magistrates, whereof divers had already sold themselues, to become the instruments of his vengeance; Hee likewise willed the mournfull Hildegardis to be brought forth in the quality of an offendor, she having manacles on her hands, which made her a spectacle of pitty to all those who had seene her tryumphant in the glorious List of Honors rendered her by this Nation.

When they went about to handle the questi­on of the fact; and that they most severely in­terogated hereupon all which had passed the ge­nerous Maid, who resolved never to begge life with words unworthy the greatnesse of her cou­rage, confidently said before all the assembly,

(Sirs,) There needeth neither flames, nor tortures to evict from me the truth, thereof I have ever made so singular an account; and which I would not in any sort falsifie, though with the hazard of my life. I con­fesse my selfe to have deserved death for two crimes, whereof the first is, That I have lived in this place longer then was sit for an innocent; and much more then was expedient for a miserable creature: I should have done that sooner which I performed too late: but the [Page 49] feare to die once ought not still to have extended my un­happinesse so farre, as to make me die daily.

The second crime I have committed, is to have so ill mannaged a glorious action; so that now to day my in­tentions, and thoughts must be accused, which ought ne­ver to have been knowne before the execution of my pur­poses: if heaven had affo [...]rded mee more happinesse, or them fidelity, who most basely have discovered my coun­sels.

Behold, all which burdeneth my conscience, and which makes mee hate the life I have so ill employed. As for the rest of the accusations, they are built on so slight foundations, that as mine enemies cannot propose them without confusion; so may not I refute them, without arrogating to my selfe that glory, which I now affect not. Have I not (I pray) committed a goodly crime in desi­ring liberty, and studying a lessen which publike voice teacheth us, which lawes approve, which all men practise, which nature distateth to little Nightingales even in their cages? Had I beene taken in the wars, my unhap­pinesse would not have deprived me of my right, which is to seeke for the comfort of its being, to unlose the chaines of captivity; and to dissolue by vertue (as much as we may) the miseriès of evill fortune. And who sees not that by a more just reason, being taken from my father's house, (a Prince illustrious) by a most uniust and thrice vnfor­tunate attempt; and being confined in a place of Massa­cres, and to doe worke, which is sutable to none but fu­ries, that I assay by all the meanes I can to free my selfe from a bondage, where when I have lost all I may ha­zard, I must daily also forsake mine oune innocency▪

[Page 50] Consult (I beseech you) with the Saxon Lawes which you taught mee, Quicquid in fae­minam commit­titur, si virgo fue­rit dupliciter componatur. Iu cod: legum anli­auarum. and you therein shall finde most expresse penalties decreed against those, who ravish wo­men, wherein you also have made a notable distinction in favour of Maidens, desirous that such as shall practise in this sort against their persons, should be doubly puni­shed. It is an admirable thing to behold how you de­stroy with one hand, that which you build with the other, and how you publish lawes, which at this time seeme not to be made for any other purpose, but to condemne your owne actions.

But I ought to content my selfe (saith one) with my liberty, and not breake prison to enlarge others. To that I answere, they were the instruments of my designes, and being tyed to my interests, they were necessarily to waite on the condition of my fortune. I answere their detenti­on was most impious and nujust: and not to be tolerated by a soule, that hath any least sparke of zeale to religion, or love to equity: For if it bee now a fit time to speake truth, since the plot is laid not to spare my life; who can approue these sacrifices of humane bloud, unlesse hee will proclaime open warre against nature?

The wisest among you confesse, God is a spirit most pure, and most independent on matter, and shall we ther­fore thinke wee must sacrifice bodies unto him? Would we haue him flie up and downe like a vultur to the massa­cres of men? would we have him sucke bloud, like flies? Is not this to entertaine thoughts most unworthy of the Diuinity, and were it not better to bee wholy ignorant of the gods, then to know them in this manner?

[Page 51] The most ancient Divine lawes (which you have daily in your hand) teach us that God is the Father of nature, and that he produced man, making use of himselfe for a modell: how can we then thinke he will be pleased in the destruction of the most perfect peece of his workes; and that he hath lesse affection towards a living man, who bea­reth so noble characters of his glory, then a wretched ar­tificer would have for an Idol, made by his owne hands?

It will be answered, these bloudy sacrifices are ordai­ned by the lawes of the countrey: But is there a Civill law, which ought to preiudice the great, and infallible law of nature, which commandeth us to love our like, the law of Nations, which decreeth to entertaine strangers with all courtesie, the policy of humane conversation, which willeth us to observe covenants, and promises? Did you not give these strangers assurance to affoord them life; and the liberty of young lacinthus, if they o­vercame Lions, and Beares, which you breed up for the slaughter of men? Why then after so many acts of valour, which draw admiration from the most stupid, love from the most unnaturall; will you crush them under their proper triumphs?

These are the ruines, wherein I wish to bee buryed; and sincè there onely needs my death to give you full satisfaction of your designe; I now to day most wil­lingly die, having already lived but too long, at least by this day, this most unhappy day which hath made me to be presented before your eyes bound with chaynes that have never hitherto beene employed; but on the bodies of rascals: It is humanity you should af­ford a poore stranger, succour is dew to an Orphan, cour­teous [Page 52] usage ought to waite on the daughter of a King; nay which I more highly value, an unspotted virgin. Po­sterity (no doubt) will much honour you, so to have trea­ted my sexe, so to have paid the services I have done you the space of fourteene yeeres, and with such indignities to have drowned my virginity in my bloud; which I hi­therto most charily preserved. Perhaps it may fall out, we shall not bee so forsaken both of heaven and earth; but that a bright day may enlighten my innocency: and powerfull armes may come to search into my ashes, to finde out truth there buried.

Her heart was surprized at these last words, and ere they were aware, shee drew teares from many there present, who quickely found what sting a mouth may haue in it, which distilleth ho­ney from lips of roses. Beauty perse­cuted. Beauty persecuted com­monly raiseth as many advocates as there are e­nemies of vertue; that so they may seeme friends of graces, and to favour all in a creature, enrich­ed with natures blessings: But as it is a great fault to steale the eare from justice, to deliver the eye over to love; so it would be a notable stupi­dity, not to exercise compassion towards inno­cency afflicted, especially when it hath on its side, the armes of Truth, Eloquence, and Beauty, which ordinarily have predominance over the greatest affaires of the world.

Presently many of the counsell inclined to mil­der courses, & every one took that colour; which seemed to him the most fit to extenuate the fault which others sought to augment, that they [Page 53] might satisfie their revenge: Some said there ought pitty to bee taken of her sexe, others of her age: Non punitur fectus si non se­quatur effectu [...] some that they must yeeld to naturo, which would preserve its owne right, the rest that regard ought to be had, in so much as these pro­jects, had not beene executed, and that lawes v­sed not to search with such rigour into intenti­ons, which were not concluded with ill effects; that it was expedient to take all assurances possi­ble for the future; but that there was no colour to punish with death an evill p [...]pose, which pas­sed away without the preiudice of any: In the end, some insisted much on her religious professi­on, ioyned to an inviolable virginity, and it was said, it would be a spectacle of an ill presage to deliver into the hands of a base executioner a bo­dy consecrated so many yeeres to altars, and which had preserved it selfe within the limits of so singular purity: and which was a thing rather to be amired then reprehended.

All this seemed very considerable to the most temperate spirits: but the high Priest, who of his owne nature was harsh, and felt himselfe touched to the quicke in this affaire, disposed all his counsels towards rigour.

(Sirs) said hee, if you have any feeling in you, re­serve it for a god betrayed, a Temple polluted, for a reli­gion prostituted at the will of Pirats, and not for a silly brazen face, who braveth us even in fetters. Had you no other proofe to condemne her, but her owne apologie, you would be just enough to chastise an insolent creature, who [Page 54] no longer having an heart for the gods, hath shewed her­selfe shamelesse towards men. She speakes in chaines as if she were in Thrones, and if wee will beleeve her, her discourse is more rationall then ours, múch wiser then our lawes, more religious then our Temple, and more pu­issant then our gods. She will teach us lessons of piety, and justice; as if they were most proper in the mouth of her, who was never willing to know them, but to violate them; she alleageth nature, against the Master of na­ture, shee dares maintaine she did well to flie away, as if shee had been in a prison, not in a Temple, bound, not with fetters of iron, but with the bonds of her vowes, and her owne promises, framed and contrived by her pro­per lips, whilst she enioyed full liberty: If you will have nature prevaile against reason, there is not any crime for which sensuallity findes not more excuses, then lawes can create punishments. It hath been too great an honour for her to be stolne away, thereby to make her reverenced here as a Divinity; nor is it strange that she complaine of iniuries, since she takes the most solid benefits in evill part.

It is her great zeale to holy things which moo­ved her to set men at liberty, who by her owne confession are the most wretched, and forlorne creatures of the earth; and for this cause (forsooth) shee is pleased to play the Divine, condemning our lawes, and sacrifices, as if we were to give an account to a silly Maid, of the beliefe of our ancestors, which is common to us with so many other Nations: and as if it were a matter unjust to sacrifice offenders against justice, who are unworthy to live in the world, which they so often have polluted with [Page 55] their wickednesse. That she no more accuseth our lawes, to ezcuse her passion; it is knowne well enough, love hath caused her to attempt these goodly tricks. It is no won­der if she betray Temples, who hath betrayed her chasti▪ tie, and that she separate her selfe from the gods, since she hath separated; that, from her body which ought to sticke to the body, as fast as her soule. Never is she vir­gin enough, of whom it may be doubted whether she bee a virgin or no: Is it not a goodly businesse for a Maid of a Family, to cause her selfe to be stolne away by men, who have in the whole world no greater innocency, then to de­baush virgins? We found her in the night time shut up with young strangers, we know not what she did, but if we consider what she might have done: we can find no other proofes of her honour, then those we may derive from the lips of theeves and lovers, to whom shee hath given those hands which she so many times hath offered up to altars; I here accuse not simple desires, I condemne most wicked effects; which neither sexe, nor age can excuse, which the gods avenge, which religion condemneth, which lawes pu­nish, and which can never be expiated, but by fire.

The chaste Maid seeing her selfe so sharpely persecuted by the practises of the high Priest, Hildegardis pr [...] ­ueth her virgi­nity, Robert Archbishop o [...] Canterbury sait [...] the Saxons cal­led this triall in their lan­guage Ord [...] ­leum. in all that which she held most pretious, cryed out aloud, her innocency was charged with a blacke, and most mischievous imposture: and since hee spake of fire, shee was very willing to handle hot iron before all the company in witnesse of her virginity. This was a triall very ordinary among the Saxons: Hereupon the Counsell consenting therevnto, a piece of iron red-hot was brought [Page 56] forth, which the couragious Hildegardis (lifting her eies up to heaven,) grasped hard, not burning, nor hurting her selfe at all; whereat many raised loud cries of admiration in favour of her, but the high Priest with an enraged voice pronounced she was a forceresse, and did all this by art ma­gick, in which he was seconded by this mercena­ry troupe of counsellers, who most basely com­plied with his passion. All protested they ought to condemne to flames an enemy of the gods, a Trayteresse, and a prostitute. And this unwor­thy high Priest, seeing many waver; addeth there ought no seruple to bee made of her profession whereof she was degraded, nor of her virginity, which shee had lost: that there were examples enow of Romane vestalls: and lastly that it was a soveraigne meanes to appease the gods: Yet notwithstanding it was concluded she should be sent backe againe to prison, that they might not precipitate any thing before a second audience.

Wee may see by this passage, that the iudg­ments of men are very divers; Triall by fire, what it is. according to those motions they take from passion. There is no doubt but this triall by handling fire hath beene received into the ancient lawes of many people, and beene practised else-where by Christians with good effect. We know what the most il­lustrious Cardinall Baronius relateth, touching the Empresse Mary daughter of the King of A­ragon, Baron. [...]. 998. Otho. 3. and wife of Otho the third, who most ig­nobly having sollicited a chaste Court-Lord to sinne; Mary of Arragon and seeing herselfe despised therein, ac­cused [Page 57] the innocent man to have attempted her honour, and procured his head to bee chopped off by the decree of the Emperour her husband. But the wife of the dead man most confident of her husband's innocency; taking the head in her hand, went to the Emperor, as he was fitting on his feat of judgement, demanded justice for a death so tragicall, and appealed to the triall of fire which shee touched without burning, and so perswaded Otho: that he caused the vnchaste creature to bee put to death, to wipe away the staine of bloud unworthily shed.

Notwithstanding as it is not lawfull to tempt God, nor to have recourse to things so extraordi­nary, so we cannot be ignorant, that such practi­ses have been forbidden by the Canons of the Church, a [...] it appeareth in the Counsell of La­teran, and in the decretalls, as well of Alexan­der the second, as Stephan the first, because be­sides other reasons which might bee alleaged, it is certaine evill spirits would easily make their ordinary wiles to slide here-into: Yet may wee with very good reason thinke such miracles which happened sometimes to Gentiles, procee­ded from God in favour of justice; and I should conceive that as the Father of light gave the spi­rit of prophecy to the Sybills in respect of their chastity (as S. Hierome testifieth,) so favouring the virginity of our Hildegardis, hee would have it resplendent, like a Carbuncle among flames.

But behold here a strange revolution of af­faires, Revolution of affaires. which caused bright splendors to arise [Page 58] in thickest darknesse, and which afforded an as­sured Port in the most desperate shipwracks. I here apeale to curious wits, and aske of them, from whence comes it, that many times there happen in the lives of Mortals so great changes of fortune, and condition, that wee have seene men trampled under-foot, as durt in the streets; in an instant to take wings, and soare up to the Temple of honour, place themselves in the bo­some of glory, exchange scaffolds prepared for their punishments into Theaters of magnifi­cence, paines into pleasures, and all thornes into Crownes?

God forbid we should attribute to the stars or destiny these Christian adventures which wee produce: Chances from whence they come. For if we properly take Fate, as the Gentiles understood it; wee shall finde that following their opinion, it is nothing else but the good, or bad hap of our life, caused (as they sayd) infallibly by the starres. Now to goe about to maintaine this doctrine, is to uphold an impiety.

But if by destiny we meane the order, and dis­position of the first cause, which is God, as well over things naturall, as humane: wee in this fence may say there is a destiny: S. Thomas q. 117 yet notwith­standing this name becomming of late odious, by the ill use thereof among Pagans, wee will rather call it by the word of divine providence: For we must consider how God the Father of Essence engendereth, and eternally speaketh his Sonne, or his Eternall Word; and that in [Page 59] this Word he once said all that he should do, and all which should happen; Gulie [...]s. Paris r. part. de [...]niuers. part 30. c. 24. so that there is neither accident, order, nor meane in this contexture of ages, enchayned one within another, which can escape the vivacity of his eye, and extent of his providence. There it is where hee hath appointed all the blessings of nature, graces, and glory; There it is where he hath seene all the e­vills of vice, and hath neither willed, nor can will they should be of him, or by him, as being un­worthy of his sanctity, his glory, and his goodnesse.

But as for the fortunes, and misfortunes of men, in banishments, fetters, prisons, maladies, afflictions, prosperities, riches, honours, trea­sures, glories, and crownes, hee hath destined them according to his good pleasure, to bee in­struments of good purposes, and glorious actions.

Besides there is no regard taken by this great moover of nature, either of fortune, or of any thing casuall: But when we behold things hap­pen which were out of our fore-sight, although they were never out of the limits of providence; we call these events, Chances.

Stay here then (Reader) with firme footing upon this decision, which was necessary to bee produced for thy instruction, as being very essen­tiall for this discourse, before thou com'st to behold the issue of these things, wherein thou shalt see admirable passages of the divine provi­dence.

[Page 60] It is no small gift of God, Greatnesse of France. that our French have beene selected out to extirpate the remainders of Idolatry in Europe and to plant the crosse even in places all covered over with bloud, and darke­nes, which had so long time beene in the possessi­on of Divels: We cannot deny but that this ge­nerous Nation hath produced brave feats of armes, yea before it was enlightned with the rayes of the Gospel; for it is the same, which vnder the Emperour Probus, with a very slender handfull of men, In Panigir. Max­ [...]iani. made incursion into Asia, and Affrica, gave matter of astonishment to the Ro­man Empire, and made it to bee said from that time forward, that there was no atchievement so great, which was not lesse then their cou­rage.

It was the same which resisted the prodigious army of Attila, when it seemed but by stamping his foot hee could make men swarme from all parts, to the conquest of the world: and who being puffed up with the successe of his Victo­ries, learned the valour of the French, was so powerfull in it's birth, that there was nothing af­ter to bee looked for at their hands, but progres­sions, which should mount to the highest pitch of admiration.

But wee must ever affirme that armes, which are not sheltered under the standards of the crosse, though they may become remarkable in the Massacres of men; and in the firing of Pro­vinces: yet never arrive they to that bright lu­stre, they might derive from piety; which mode­rating [Page 61] all they have in them, either vnjust, or ex­orbitant, beautifieth them with great and divine lights. He that will behold France in the vigour and splendor of it's armes, let him see her tramp­ling vnderfoot so many heads of Sarazins, cut off by the justice of that sword, which God put into their hands: Let him then see her gather the palmes of Palestine, so many times watered with it's sweat; Let him then see how vnder a Charle­maigne, it makes the Flower de Luces sparkle in places, which seemed so much shut up against force, as they were inaccessible to piety.

To speake plainly, Vertues of Charlemaigne. God made this Monarch, as a rare peece of his Cabinet, making use of himselfe for a modell; and setting him in so great a degree of earthly greatnesse, to the end his vertues admired by people, and imitated by Kings, might passe into example for posterity. Nature in him layd deep foundations, granting him qualities both of minde, and body, which promised nothing of mediocrity, and good e­ducation comming to build thereon, raised per­fections, which rendering themselves lovely to all the world, became profitable for the service of the soveraigne of Monarchs.

Pliny the younger said, those seemed to him the most fortunate of men, who did acts worthy to be written: And in the second place, such as composed workes worthy to bee read; but that such as could performe both the one, and the o­ther, were arrived to a high degree of happines, and perfection. Now this is it which our [Page 62] Charles hath done; who was one of the most knowing among the learned, and of the most couragious among the warlike: and as he signed his edicts with the pommell of his sword; so hee shewed, that if the point were to wound his ene­mies; hee kept the other end for his subiects, making so sweet a mixture of armes, and lawes, that innocency, and valour which very seldome accord; found in his person a most worthy tem­perature. Hee had a heart large as a sea, which contained in it's capacity all the ornaments that use to dignifie great Princes, and as there was no­thing too high for his courage; so was there not any thing so low in his Empire that was exclu­ded from the care, and favour of his goodnesse. Hee was religious in the exercises of piety, up­right in the decrees of Iustice, innocent in court, holy in purple, and although the love of women set some spots upon this glorious Sunne, yet pennance wiping them away; hee fayled not to deserve in his title the name of Father of the world, and to see in Heaven Altars consecrated to his memory thorough the peoples piety.

This is to shew what kinde of man God is pleased to make use of, to dislodge Divels, and to make Idolatry yeeld up the last breath, which being banished from the other three parts of the world, found yet among the Saxons, altars and Temples to the prejudice of humane bloud. Charlemaigne was enflamed with an incomparable zeale, to subiect all people vnder his obedience to Christian lawes, nor could he endure the point [Page 63] of his Launce should extend farther, then the Empire of the Crosse.

Behold the cause why hee being confident, resolved to tame the Saxons; Warre of the Saxons. and to arrange them under the lawes of the Gospel: yet there wanted not many to disswade him from this war, telling him he must fight with forrests, and men more savage then Wolves; who would dearely sell most base bloud at the price of the life of a brave Nobility: That conquest was painefull, event uncertayne, danger most assured, and vi­ctory little glorious; and although they were once vanquished, it would be daily to bee begun againe: these men having nothing more con­stant among them then perpetuall inconstancy: That the wayes were very rugged, victuals very hard to be transported, the situation of places in­finitely advantagious to these people, and all­most insupportable for strangers.

All seemed sufficient enough to stay the pur­poses of this Prince, but his great heart pricked on to generous actions by the spur of obstacles which presented themselves to hinder his course after hee had concluded upon this warre in his diet at Wormes, hee mannaged it so bravely, that hee never let his Target fall, till he saw rebellion wholy prostrated under his feet. There is no question, but all these warres made by Idolaters, and Sectaries, for the defence of a fantasie of re­ligion, being blowne into them by the breath of the Serpent; and having no other soule then fury, ranne to a point of resistance, till it meets [Page 64] with the obstinacy of Divels. It is a strange thing that these Barbarians held this invincible Monarch for the space of Thirty Three yeeres with sword in hand upon divers reasumptions of armes, and never yeelded to justice, till they were by force quite exhausted of men, money, and bloud: How many times saw they rivers over-flow with their bloud? How often did they behold mountaines raised high with the bodies of their fellow-Citizens? How many times did the strange desolation of their Coun­tries, devesting the weeping fields on all sides, invite them to peace? Yet these Barbarians when Charlemaigne held his foot on their throat, thorough a dissembled piety demaunded Bap­tisme: but so soone as they saw themselves the stronger side, they forraged the Countrey with most desperate hostilities; they killed the Ga­risons, they massacred the Priests, they burnt the altars, to which they fled for refuge; and ne­ver did these Anteusse's bow downe their heads before our Hercules, but to derive from thence new forces to his disadvantage.

They renewed wars afresh sixe or seven times, wherein necessarily hee was enforced to crush them as Serpents, and bury them in their totall ruine, which happened at that time, when Whiti­kindus their Captaine, and the leader of these in­cendiaries, weakned by so much effusion of bloud; and vanquished in sundry battailes, yeel­eed himselfe to the clemency of the King, and made a notable conversion to the Catholique [Page 65] faith, which was followed by his Nobility, and people, who commonly are tyed with long chaines of necessitie, to the fortune of great ones. Then was it that the City, and Citta­dell of Ereshourge, (wherein all the detestable sa­crifices of Irminsul, The Castle of Irminsul rende­red: were made;) were wholly subjected to the Armes of this brave Conque­rour, who overthrowing the worship of false gods; planted there the standard of the Crosse. Charlemaigne entred into this Castle, as an An­gell sent from Heaven; for the deliverance of our prisoners; for the infamous sacrificers sur­prized with his so unexpected approach; and a­stonished by the Victorious standards of France, presently fled, no more able to endure the pre­sence of this Prince; then the night-bats can suffer the rayes of the Sunne.

In the meane time, the miserable Clodoaldus comfortlesly bewailed his little Iacinthus, Clodoaldus pro­strated to Charlemaigne. whom hee held for already sacrificed: and having once shut up his eyes from the light, he perpe­tually opened them to teares; which ceased not to distill from them, become blinde. When he understood of the arrivall of Charlemaigne, hee came to cast himselfe at his feete, to begge revenge for his sonne's bloud, being out of hope hee was yet alive, and verily beleeving all was told him touching certayne gallants, that had endevoured to hinder this bloudy sa­crifice was but an invention of his friends, who were willing to affoord him this charity to swee­ten his torments. The King seeing this grave [Page 66] comely man so disfigured, and overwhelmed by the violence of sorrow, was strucken with great compassion, and considering hee could not speake but thorough broken sobs, which choaked all his words: hee truly iudged this soule was infinitely afflicted; whereupon en­couraging him, hee said, Hee should give some truce to the sence of his griefe, and that if fortune had made him miserable, hee stood before a Prince, who was able to make him happy. The poore Lord replyed,

(Sir,) Why doth your Maiesty entitle mee misera­ble, and not rather the true anatomy of miserie: For the evils I suffered, mounted to such a height, that they admit no comparison among the strangest acci­dents of this age. Heauen having granted mee a fortune rich, and eminent enough in the World, made me also a father of Three Children: Two whereof were taken from mee in their tender yeeres, which I thought would have cost mee my life, (so much haue I deplored them night and day without intermission:) but in the end (as time is a wise Physitian for our mise­ries, not suffering our dolours to bee everlasting in a life so short;) my wound which for so long time had beene fresh, and bleeding, began to become a scarre; and on a sodaine brake out againe, by reason of a cruelty without example. I setled my selfe in this wretched Countrey to see if I might discover some marks of my losse, when one day afflicted with so many anxieties, as incessantly tormoyled my poore heart: I had a desire to hunt, wherein extraordinarily eager I sought [Page 67] to kill a Bore, retyred to the foot of a statue of a god of of this Countrey, erected in the woods.

I had no sooner dispatched him, but behold a voyce dreadfull and menacing came out of this Idoll, which condemned me to blindnesse, and the whole Countrey to a most meager sterility: if this fault were not spee­dily repaired, and verily I in an instant became blind, and my companions saw the grasse dryed and wi­thered up under their feet, whereat I being much ama­zed, most humbly prostrated my selfe at the feet of this god, beseeching to know of him what satisfaction he de­sired of me, he then appointed I should offer that thing in sacrifice which first presented it selfe unto mee in my returne homeward, which I most willingly assented unto, not thinking on the sequell of this unhappy promise: When behold poore Iacinthus, mine onely son, whom I with so much care had bred, and who alone was able to comfort me in all my losses: vpon the report that I was hunting in the groue of Irminsul, came out to meet me with unspeakable ioy. So soone as I heard the voyce of this tender lambe, I was so surprised in all my sences, that I knew not what to say; he on the other side bemoa­ned my blindnesse, and enquired with all his endevours some remedy for my disaster, when by chance having understood the knot of the businesse, this imcomparable sonne hastned to present himselfe at the altar of Irmin­sul, where I verily am perswaded, the sacrificers, who will not mittigate any thing of their cruelty have offe­red up, and torne in pieces this little body, as flesh in the shambles.

But (Sir) at the least, revenge the bloud of my poore [Page 68] victime, since you are the worlds arbitrator, and if there yet remaine any part of his ashes, or bones, I beseech your Maiestie they may be restored me, that I may bury them in my bosome, and powre out my soule upon them.

The King bitterly wept when hee heard these Tragicall accidents, and promised to affoord him all possible comfort; for which Clodoaldus lifting his hands up to Heaven, gave thankes to the gods, and when a Bishop there present told him hee must take away this plura­lity of gods, and beleeve in one God, soveraigne Monarch of Heaven, and Earth; who had sanctified the world by the incarnation of his Word, hee required to bee instructed in our Religion, which was quickly granted; and so soone as his minde was enlightned with the rayes of faith: this mist which the Devills had caused, was dissolved, to the admiration of all the World; and foorth-with hee disposed himselfe to prayse, and thanke God, never leaving the King, from whom he began to hope much, and that beyond all expectation.

Charlemaigne entring into the Castle, saw the gods of the Saxons, Gods of the Saxons. and among other, the Idoll of Crodon, whom Historians thinke to bee the Saturne of the Grecians; which verily was an Idoll of bloud, and massacres, and to which they offered in many places, sacrifices of men and children, as wee understand from the rela­tion of Pagan Antiquities. There likewise stood Irminsul all armed from head to foot, holding in [Page 69] one hand a standard with a rose figured in it, and in the other a ballance, having besides a Beare engraven on his Cuirasse, and a Lion on his Target: Wherupon Crantzius, and other Histori­ans give sundry explications, easie to bee obser­ved. Moreover there was a statue of Venus, which shewed it was no extraordinary matter for these Idolaters to ad homicides and slaughters, to the ordures of the impurity, whereof this Irminsul, bare the figure.

This brave Monarch breathed out a deepe sigh seeing these prodigious deities, which had hitherto amused this miserable people, and as he was about to cause them to be demollished, one came to tell him there were prisoners of note in the dungeon, reserved to be very speedily sacri­ficed: Wherevpon hee in all haste appointed a commissary with guards about him to bring them foorth, and to bee informed of the crimes wherewith they were to be charged.

The poore Hildegardis buryed in this deepe darknesse, Sorrow of Hildegardis. expected nothing but the pile and flames, fearing the high Priest, factious, and en­raged, would draw to himselfe a reputation of honour, signed with her bloud: Wherevpon she wholly resolved for death; but it extremely troubled her, that together with life they sought to bereave her of the reputation of honor, and ho­nesty, and endevoured to stamp an infamy on her Tombe, (If ashes which fly away with the wind, may expect the funerall rites of a Tombe,) shee complayned that having so charily preserved her [Page 70] virginity, of which fire it selfe had rendred a most solemne testimony, yet did the rage of her enemies handle her as a harlot.

Shee deplored that her ashes should remaine in a barbarous Countrey, her selfe to bee buried in oblivion, as the most unknowne, and aban­doned creature of the World; and that of so much kindred; and allies, there was not one would come to strew some silly flowers on the place impressed with the prints of her punish­ments.

And as wee are free in our desires, shee in thought wished, that some one at the least would one day carry the remainders of her ashes to her father, and say unto him. Behold here the lamen­table reliques of that daughter whom you so much sought, so much haue bewailed, never giving end to your search, or teares. The poore creature is dead un­der most cruell torments, leaving her life, and memory in the flames of a burning pile prepared by her enemies, but she is dead as a child of honour; and hath not dis­graced the example of her Mother, nor the vertue of her ancestors.

Wee all of us retaine some love for the affe­ction, and estimation of posterity; which is a great note of the immortality of our soules. It seemed to her, if some one would promise the ac­complishment of this desire, she should die with much satisfaction, that her father would bee comforted therewith, and willingly affoord the last obsequies to this slender portion of her body.

[Page 71] Having dreamed sometime thereupon, shee bitterly bewailed the death of her deare Ischyri­on, of little Iacinthus, and Faustinus, fearing least this unhappy surprisall might redouble their punishments, she desired yet once againe to speake with them before shee dyed, to assist, comfort, and fortifie her selfe with them for this last passage: shee intreated she might bee per­mitted to speake one word to her foster-father Araspus, but it was told her, hee was lately a­rested, as being held guilty of the conspiracy shee had plotted, which redoubled her sorrow with the more violence, considering this inno­cent old man was involved in her ruines. In the end, the disastrous Maid mourned in the dunge­on, wholy absorpt in deepe miseries, and be­ing deprived, the splendor of the day, she saw in her imagination all the confusions of fortune, and a million of the images of death which as­sayled her repose, when shee desired to shut up her eyes for sleepe:

Then hearing the prison doore open, she cry­ed out aloud, Let us goe, behold here the houre ap­pointed by Heaven; which must give an end to so many miseries as instantly turmoyle thee. But one comming, who opened a little window to give day-light to the darkenesse of the dungeon, she (much amazed) to behold other countenances of men, then such as shee had knowne; plainly discovered them by their habits, and fashions to be strangers: They commanded her to follow them, wherevpon she replyed, (Sirs,) whither will [Page 72] you lead mee, and instantly shee understood shee was no longer to give answere, to a company of Priests, who had forsaken the place, but before the throne of the prime Monarch of the world. This newes made her conceive at first, great hope of liberty, imagining with her selfe, she should plead her cause before a benigne Prince, who would give sentence with all equity.

But hearing some to murmure round about her, who spake what fame published, that shee must bee burnt as a sorceresse; and that it was she, who had lent her hand to so many enormous sacrifices committed in this cursed place, this greatly amazed her: But forgetting her proper danger, for the love shee bare to Ischyrion, shee asked whither those gentlemen shut up in the next prison were already put to death, or no; to which it was answered, they were alive, and should bee sentenced with her, and even at the same time they were taken out of prison to bee brought before the King, who called for them, and it happened they both met upon the way. Verily, this was a very heavy meeting; for the noble Ischyrion perceiving his dearest Hildegar­dis led along enchayned, The meeting of Hildegardis, and ischyrion. and knowing shee had no other crime, but for obliging him, felt his heart so seized with griefe, that he thought to yeeld up the ghost betweene the armes of Fausti­nus, and Iacinthus; who supported him (al­though bound) as well as they could: So soone as he a little had recovered his spirits, and got liberty of speech, he cryed out,

[Page 73] What (Madame) am I then the instrument of your death? There needs no question be asked whither I be criminall, since I see my selfe defi­led with bloud, and am guilty of the murder of a person, in whom nothing may bee desired, but immortality. Where shall I find limbs enow in my body, to expiate such a guilt. I from hence­foorth defie, Wheeles, Gibbets, keene Razors, and flames; and if it bee true which is said, that the burning pile is already prepared for us, I will mount to the top of it, without bands, or fet­ters, I wil first of all try the violence of the fire, I wil render an honorable payment before the eyes of Heaven, and earth: I most faithfully promise when my soule shall bee separated from my bo­dy, it shall every where waite on your most pu­rified spirit as the shadow of it, but if it must be condemned to darkenesse for eclipsing so divine a light, I will onely begge of thee (oh great in­telligence) that from the sphere of splendors due to thy merrit, thou wilt some times deigne to send forth a ray of thy clemency to enlighten the dusky nights of my miseries, and offences.

Hildegardis answered this speech, with her weeping eyes, the dart whereof was not so blun­ted by teares, but that they made impression on the heart of her beloved, and so much as her voyce might cleaue a sunder the sharpe sighes of her heart, she said, (Sir) accuse not your innocen­cy, but my unhappinesse, which hath made mee become so unfortunate, that even meere benefits have power enough to make mee criminall. If [Page 74] death separate our lives, at the least I am glad it may perhaps unite our ashes, and that wee shall preserve the immortality of our affections, in the immortality of our soules. This pleasing specta­cle softned the heart of the Commissary, and guards, that they almost forgat themselves, so transported they were;

In the meane time Charlemagine sate on his Throne, Iudgment of Charlemaigne. covered over with a faire pavillion, and appeared on that day resplendent, in the attires of a Maiestie absolutely Royall, encompassed with his Nobility, which afforded him the same lustre, that leaves doe roses: He caused Clodoal­dus to bee placed in his Throne, that hee might finde out his sonne, if (happily) hee were yet a­mong the prisoners. As they were put forward to be presented before the King, it hapned Ia­cinthus, who was very carelesly bound for the as­surance they had of his liberty, seeing his father, instantly brake his cords, and ranne to leape a­bout his necke, in the presence of Charlemaigne, and all this goodly company. The father ten­derly imbracing him, said, with a confused voice. How my sonne! What come you now out of your Tombe? Ah my poore sonne! Iacintbus deli­vered. How were you to your father, when you left him in the Forrest, to goe to the altar of Irmin­sul? Tell me who hath raised you up againe? The son on the other side beheld his father with admira­tion, (a blinde man become cleere sighted,) and said unto him (Father) who hath restored you your eyes? There upon both stood, seized with so inexplicable joy, that they were unable to ex­presse [Page 75] the cause of their happinesse, but that the father distilling some teares of gladnesse, spake thus, Oh my sonne! It is a worke of God; and then perceiving he had done an act of a man transpor­ted, not considering hee was in the presence of a King; hee hastned to prostrate himselfe at the feet of Charlemaigne, saying, Sir, excuse the power of nature, otherwise, this childe is more yours then mine. Then turning to Iacinthus, Sonne, draw neere, and kisse the feet of the chiefe Monarch of the World, to whom you owe your happinesse, and mine. His God here­after shall be yours, his Altars shall be your Altars, and you shall have no other Religion with me, then his. Vp­on which the childe making a most lowly obey­sance, cast himselfe on the earth, and the King causing him to be lifted up againe, tooke him by the hand, and gave him to the Bishop to bee in­structed in the faith.

This matter for a long time entertained the eyes of all the company with his happinesse, and this novelty, untill Hildegardis was brought forth to take her turne: then was the time when all the World shewed it selfe to bee mooved with much curiosity, Description of Hildegardis. to know who this virgin was, and for what offence shee was fettered in the dunge­on: shee was of a goodly stature, and had a bo­dy well proportioned in all the parts thereof, the lineaments of her face very delicate, her colour bright, and lively, port grave, and which suffici­ently declared her to bee borne of some noble fa­mily.

And though her countenance was then deie­cted, [Page 76] her eyes dull, her haire negligently dische­veled, and attire very plaine, yet all this did much grace her, for her beauty failed not to shine tho­row so many obstacles, as the Sunne in a winters day, which is ever constantly the Sunne, though the sharpenesse of the season robbe us of the vi­gour, and lustre of his rayes. The King at the beginning was amazed seeing such a creature re­duced to this state, and commanded her to draw neere vnto him, which she did with an excellent grace, when prostrating her selfe at the feet of his Maiesty, she said,

(Sir,) I render thanks to the divine providence, which governing the worlds affaires, Her speech to the King. hath drawne mee from Lyons dens to die among men, and to yeeld my soule at the feet of the most triumphant Monarch of the world. The fame of your Maiestie hath found us out in dungeons, penetrating places where the Sun enters not; and made us understand the blessings Heaven hath pou­red on your Armes. For which cause we have some rea­son to reioyce amongst so many obiects of sadnesse, that our eyes before they be shut up to all things mortall, shall be illustrated with your conquests. Yet is not this the cause for which I desire my life to be prolonged, for for­tune having throwne me into the extremity of miseries, I see nothing so prepitious to my condition, as death, which must entombe all my paines; I onely (dying) de­plore the losse of these two gentlemen, whose innocency I lately have seene oppressed, after so many testimonies of their valour, and goodnesse, that it is a wonder how their vertues found fetters, in a place where they might expect crownes.

[Page 77] But (Sir,) since God hath made you arbitrator of man-kind, and that having given you a sword to hew Monsters, hee hath likewise affoorded you a ballance to weigh vertues, and crimes, save these innocents, make them capable to beare your standards into as many pla­ces as the Sun discovereth his rayes in. If I obtaine this favour of your Majestie, I shall die contented, for I am unworthy to see the light of the Sun, having lived in this fatall place, which of necessity must be incompatible with my life.

The King wondred at the constancy of this virgin, joyned to her charity towards these pri­soners, and was curious to know what she did in this Castle, which seemed most of all to trouble her minde: Wherevpon casting her eyes downe, and colouring her face with a modest blush, she besought his Majestie to dispence with her the relation of a thing which bred in her so much horror, and that it was enough he saw her resol­ved to expiate all her crimes by fire.

But the King powerfully vrging, and giving her all manner of assurance, she professed she ex­crecised the function of a Priest in the sacrifices of Irminsul, and that she was present at the death of men, who were sacrificed; and further being asked touching the causes which brought her to so hatefull a profession, shee told how shee had beene taken away by a strange misfortune at se­ven yeeres of age; and after many adventures transported into this Castle, where by maine force shee had beene constrained to execute the [Page 78] office of a vestall of the Temple, she being a vir­gin, and of very noble extraction.

Clodoaldus, who was there present, hearing speech of the taking away of a childe of a noble house, felt his wound to open a fresh, remem­bring that at the same age shee was of, his owne had beene taken from him, and conferring the yeeres, the feature, lineaments of face, hee sayd within himselfe, such should my deare Hildegardis be now, were she yet alive. Charlemaigne continu­ing his discourse, said unto her; being stolne at this age (as she sayd,) shee might well remem­ber the name she then had, the house of her Fa­ther, and other markes of her race. To which she replyed, shee could well call to mind her Fa­ther was of Denmarke, heretofore governour of an ample province, and that hee was called Clodo­aldus: As for her selfe, she bare still the name of Hildegardis, which was given her at her birth. Therevpon the father, who hearing these words, had beene strongly assailed with an ebbe, and floud of imaginations, cryed, as if hee came out of an extasie. Ha (sir)! This creature is my daugh­ter, it is my lost daughter, whom I have sought for, the space of fourteene yeeres in so great, and painefull voy­ages; then turning himselfe towards his little Iacinthus: (Son) this is your sister, and as he spake this, both ran to imbrace her.

But shee who during all this discourse, stood immoveable as a statue, seeing her Father drew neer to kisse her, and doubting least there might be some practise, shee stept backe, and said (sir, [Page 79] excuse mee if you please) I cannot without further proofe more evident acknowledge you for my Father. Clo­doaldus seeing this refusall, asked if Araspus were not yet with her, she answered, he was, therevpon he prayed the King hee might bee called soorth, which was speedily done. Araspus avowing his master received him as a man fallen from Hea­ven, gave him many singular welcomes, and said to Hildegardis, Madam, approach confidently, it is my Lord your Father. The virgin remained in a strange rapture, and the father not speaking, but by broken sighes which issued from his heart, as from a furnace of love, held her fast em­braced, and bedewed her with his teares. All there present were amazed at this sight, as men a­stonished, or charmed; the King himselfe could not abstaine from teares, and calling Hildegar­dis, tooke her by the hand, and demaunded whither shee would forsake the sacrifices of Irminsul, and embrace her fathers religion, which was Christian: She answered, she had a thou­sand, and a thousand times abhorred this super­stitious imposture, and that with all her heart shee desired to bee a Christian. Therevpon the King turning toward Araspus, asked him how this creature had beene taken, he relating that shee sporting in a wood in some childish maner, a troupe of wandring Griphons assailed her, well discovering their aime was at this young virgin, but he having kept her in this storme (as a vessell wherein all the treasures of his master were en­closed) defended her with all his power till [Page 80] such time as oppressed with wounds hee was ta­ken with her. Hee added that shee had lived in this miserable place in such languors and di­stresses as cannot bee imagined, expecting the much desired day which should breake her fet­ters, and wipe away these teares.

Well goe to then virgin (sayd the King) be­hold the day, which you so long have looked for, is come: But why were you thrust into this mi­serable dungeon? What meane these chaines, and burning pile you spake of even now? The generous Lady (almost) forgetting her owne happinesse, faithfully to assist her deare Ischyrion; related with an atractive grace all that which had passed, as well in the person of Iacinthus, as in the combat of Lyons and Beares, extolling as much as she could, the rare prowesse of these two gentlemen: Then shee added the advice shee tooke to free them, the accident which befell her in this difficult affaire, her imprisonment, her condemnation, and the desperate state of her fortune. Here the Father embracing her a­gaine, long time wept over her, saying, (My poore daughter) It is well you are pulled out of the pawes of Wolves, and I pray what had now become of you without the Kings protection?

But Hildegardis amongst these notable occur­rents ever bearing her dearest Ischyrion in mind, vrged Charlemaigne, saying, (Sir) my father is still possessed but of the one halfe of me, whilst this noble gen­tleman is in fetters. Bee your Majesty pleased to finish what you so prosperously have begun. [Page 81] Forthwith the King caused Ischyrion and Faustine to be fetched, Ischyrions gra­titude. commanding their chaines to bee taken off. Ischyrion feeling himselfe unfettered, lifted his hands to Heaven, and said, Now is the time (oh Heavens) I render you thankes, that I once againe have my hands at liberty to die in some battaile, if you shall please to deigne me this favour: we at the least so farre as I per­ceive have escaped from these bloudy sacrifices, where wee were to loose our lives, not illu­strating our deaths with one ray of honour: but now if we needs must make an end, wee will con­clude on the theater of Kings in some glorious piece of service.

Charlemaigne hearing this yong Eaglet speake with so much generosity, enquired his name, race, employment, course, and progresse of life: But hee making a low obeysance, said to the King,

(Sir) I beseech your Majestie to excuse me, if I give you not upon this question that full satisfaction I could wish, For fortune hath created me an imperfect man, without Father, or Mother, kindred, allyes, Countrey, house; or riches, casting me as an abortive of the sea, ri­sen out of the waves to arive on some unknowne shore. All I can say of my extraction, is, that I was taken a­way in so tender yeares, that I could not have any know­ledge either of my selfe, or mine.

It onely was told mee, that Pirats stealing mee away from I know not what Countrey came to east anchor in a [Page 82] a part of Affrick, where they were so hotly assayled that one of their vessels was left behind, in which I was, and every one running hastily to the pillage of this booty, the shepherds sought also to have their share in it, whereof one of them seeing me, whither mooved with compassion, or whither he thought mee a childe of some good family, and that one day restoring me, he might gaine somewhat by it, he resolved to lay hold on me, and bred mee up with his son Faustine, here present.

We both grew up under his wings, like two yong Ashes, planted by the favour of Heaven neere a rivers side; and although I had then no other opinion of my selfe, but that I was the son of Thoas, my foster-father; yet being a­mong little Countrey boyes of my condition, I played the Prince, and was infinitely delighted to practise warres, and combats, wherein I almost everhad the upper hand, from whence it came to passe the name of Ischyrion was given mee, which is a tite of valour, and glory.

The shepherd Thoas loved me tenderly, as his owne son, and plainely perceiving I was not borne to rest in sheep-coats all my life; Being now upon the degrees of an age more vigorous, he tooke me apart, and said,

My deare Ischyrion, I must now at this time un­sold a secret unto you, which I have hitherto been willing to conceale from you, fearing least the greatnesse of your courage might prove your ruine in these greener yeeres; but now when at this present you are come to more matu­rity, and strength, I would have you know you are no son of mine; I found you in a ship of Pyrats, and some Ma­riners did secretly whisper, you were stollen away from a [Page 83] certaine port, and that your Father was a great Prince, whereof I could never learne any further. Perhaps your good starres will shew you more, I onely intreat you to take care of your person, which shall be most deare to mee whilst I live, and if you one day arrive to any fortune worthy your selfe, forget not your poore foster-father: not (son) that I beg ought of your abilities; for God hath af­foorded us contentments in our little Cottage, but much it shall please me to be continued in your remebrance, as one who greatly have desired to breed you well, and if any thing were defective in your education, excuse our poverty, Heaven hath created [...] such as you see, full of good will, though slender in fortune, and meanes.

This discourse drew teares from mee, and so farre pe­netrated my heart, that in few daies, I resolved to tra­vell thoroughout the world, and enquire out my birth. But Faustin (knowing what passed) prayed me by all that I held most pretious, not to forsake him, but to make him the companion of all my dangers, which was the cause I besought his Father, to grant it mee, which hee assented unto, although the Mother very much opposed it.

Since, we continually have lived together, as one soule diuided into two bodies. True lawes of Amity. For our amity having taken roote in a mutuall temperature, and great correspon­dence of humors hath been maintained with a perpetuall familiarity arriving to that height, that neither death, nor hell is of power to separate us. Good, and ill have e­ver beene common betweene us, daily we obliged one ano­ther by all the wayes of friendly offices. There was ne­ver any thing secret betweene us, both our hearts, and breasts were enter changeably transparent.

[Page 84] Dissimulation, and contradiction could no more ap­proach the sincerity of our love, then serpents the blossome of the Vine. Nor was there in so many yeeres as we lived together the least impression of inconstancy, distaste, or coldnesse in our affections, but wee loued with the same ferver, as if we daily began, never to end.

When wee had travelled over some Proninces of Af­fricke, we passed into Asia; and from Asia are come in­to Europe, where wee have borne Armes against the Sarazins, and every where have opposed Monsters, Pi­rats, Robbers, wild-beasts, trampling under foot those plagues, borne to afflict Mortals.

Finally, we have here beene stayd by a most unwor­thy treason, as your Majesty hath understood by the dis­course made unto you; I verily thinke, good fortune now presents herselfe unto us, and that wee here shall finde, what is [...]ine to search in any other part of the world.

The King well satisfied to heare this whole narration, asked him, whither whilst hee was in the Pirat-ship, any marke were upon him, which might one day discover his birth. Thereupon he drew forth a little jewell, that had been found a­bout his necke, and which Thoas having faithful­ly kept, restored him at his departure. The King taking it into his hand to see what it was, percei­ved many out of our iosity lifted up their heads, and cast their eyes upon it, and among others Clodoaldus, who said in his heart. Ah, what if the [Page 85] destinies bee pleased, I this day recover all my losses, good haps sometimes comes by heapes, as well as bad. The God whom I now worship, is much greater then all my desires. As he paused on this imagination, and came so neere as hee could; Behold (saith Charlemaigne a very rich jewell) I here among other things discover an Agat, which beareth two javelins crossed one o­ver another. At these words Clodoaldus fetched a deepe sigh, and said (Sir) these are my Armes from all antiquitie; thereupon his speech was stopped by the deep resentments of his heart, yet still his voyce resisted the obstacles of passion, and said, Oh God! what meaneth this? my heart is so as­sayled with hope and feare, that it forgetteth whither it be a heart, or no, (Teares) stay a while, till I behold this Agat. The king having shewed it him, he stood a good space without speaking one word, rather resembling a statue of Marble, then a man; but when hee came againe to himselfe, hee could not say any thing but with a confused voice, This jew­el comes from my house, it is my son, I am his Father. Is­chyrion, Hildegardis, Iacinthus were on the other partall in an extasie, as if they had been transported into Heaven, and thorough all the assembly there was a marueilous silence: when Clodoaldus, recovering speech with some more readinesse, said to the King,

(Sir) It is strange, that the male Children of our Race, at least the eldest, bare on their bodies these Iavelins engraven by a naturall character. As for myselfe [Page 86] I have it on mine arme which here behold, and I well remember, my son had it on his right shoulder: I hum­bly beseech your Majestie, that part of his body may bee discovered, which was speedily done, and the Father acknowledging the marke, stooped downe to kisse his sonnes shoulder, saying, it is my sonne Clodoaldus, at the same time, Hildegardis and Ia­cinthus likewise fell upon him, and all spake to­gether by imbracements, sighes, and teares of joy, unable to utter a word. The King had much a doe to expresse himselfe, so much admi­ration possessed him, when lifting up his eyes to Heaven he said, Behold most secret passages of the divine providence.

In the end, this happy Father beginning to come out of his extasie, said to his sonne Clodoal­dus, oh my sonne, oh my pleasing light! now is the time when the eclipse of so many yeeres hath suffered you to appeare in your brightest lustre; I verily thought the waves of the sea had swal­lowed you, for which cause I erected a Tombe unto you on the shore, (the monument of my unhappinesse, and title of my sorrowes). How often did I moysten it with my teares? How often did I strew it with flowers? I likewise planted Cypresses, and other trees, on the barkes whereof I wrote my disasters, and com­plaints; I tooke delight to see them grow to the proportion of the plant's increase. When I beheld any Tempest arise on the Sea, I said to the Nimphs, appease (a little I beseech you) these windes and stormes, keepe my young Clodo­aldus [Page 87] in peace; I know he hath no Tombe, make him a hearse of the Christalls of these waves; It seemed to me the Sea understood my griefe, and tooke pleasure to swell with my teares: It seem­ed the rockes lamented my dolours, to eccho them agayne to shippes, and saylers: and now where are my sorrowes, and torments? Children, you to day are borne. To day properly I begin to be a Father: To which Ischyrion, who had hi­therto been wholy absorpt in a deepe rapture re­plyed.

Most deare Father, with how many travels do I on this day purchase the right to call you by that excellent title? & by how many wandring paths, and trackes have I found out the right way? Yet notwithstanding there is not any thing done, nor shall I ever be pleased, till I satisfie the estimation you have made of mee, avowing mee for your son in the presence of the King, and all his Court. Then casting himselfe about the necke of his sister Hildegardis, and his brother Iacinthus, hee embraced them with opennesse of heart, and profusion of love, which seemed as if it would have dissolved the three soules, and make them evaporate into affection. Hee said ah! it was a great chance the altar of Irminsul had not beene moystned with the bloud of three. Let us give thanks to the Christian's God, who by the victorious hand of this Monarch, hath vindica­ted us from the gates of hell.

Whilst he was saying this, the Father prostra­ted himselfe againe with them at the feet of [Page 88] Charlemaigne, and spake thus, (Sir) you this day have created a family, giving it being; and the perfections which attend it. If the Father and his children gaine one day the honour to beare your ensignes, they shall flie from one pole to a­nother like Eagles, and never pretend to any ho­nour in the world, but to obey your commands, To which the King answered; That, man was but a little veyne of water, that, God was the source of Essences, and goodnesse, to whom we ought to render immortall honors. And saying this, He commanded them to honor the Crosse, and invited them all to the destruction of Idols, which was performed with unspeakable ala­crity, Heaven so favouring this designe, that as the History expresly telleth, miraculous crosses were seene on the clothes of those who were em­ployed in this so glorious a worke.

Thus doth God conclude enterprises underta­ken for the glory of his Name, and I praise the holy providence, that having begun the designe of this poore labour in the beginning of the Vi­ctories, which our great Monarch hath gained o­ver his Subjects; I finish it in the accomplish­ment of his Conquests.

His voyages, which alwayes seeme long to those, who so passionately cherish the honour of his presence, are found in the end very short in re­spect of the great things which God is pleased to worke in so small a time by his victorious hands; the mighty workers of wonders.

Behold him here returned from the Alpine [Page 89] snowes, and scorching heats of the utmost limits of his Kingdome, like to those great mountains which at one, and the same time; bare Winter and Summer, shewing himselfe as invincible in valour, as indefatigable in labour.

Speake no more of that ancient Timothous, into whose nets fortune cast some silly Townes. The great hand of the God of hosts hath put Provin­ces, and people (in a moment) into that good­ly golden snare of the Kings love, and clemency, reducing under obedience all those rebellious places, that opened their eyes to their owne tran­quility, which they so many times had shut a­gainst reason. This great king peacefull in de­sires, and warlike of disposition, is become the peace-maker of Europe, plainely discovering, he loveth not warre, but to bring forth peace, and that all his intentions have no other aime, but to build up for his subjects the Temple of Repose, so oft cimented with his sweats, and exalted by his armes.

I here willingly end, not pursuing the events of chaste Hildegardis, or of her brothers, being loth to extend this History beyond those me­morialls, which have limited me in this designe.

Yet must I (Reader) shutting it up, avow, these so unexpected passages doe cause a sweet­nes to spring in my soule, which I have no power to expresse. The conclusi­on, and in­structions of the History. I figure unto my selfe the joyes of the last day, that perpetuall day, which shall ne­ver set; The day mocked at by the wicked, op­posed by the Philosopher of Gentilisme, not [Page 90] hoped for by mis-beleevers, and so much desired by the faithfull; when this long decrepitnesse of Ages shall be renewed by fire, when all the e­lements shall be purified, when this great house of nature going out from the last consumption by fire as from a furnace shall appeare more re­splendent then ever, to the eyes of it's workeman.

What a spectacle to behold the Saviour of the world so long expected, to come upon the chariot of clouds accompanied with so many Saints, and intelligences, to command over the heads of Emperours, who have persecuted his Saints in all the parts of the world! What re­joycing of Angels, what glory of bodies raised againe, what City of peace, what kingdomes of the Elect?

Then shalbe the time when fathers & mothers, who haue had the happinesse to become of the number of the blessed, shall embrace their Chil­dren so much desired, and deplored, not as this Clodoaldus to desire, and bewaile them once more againe, but to see them for ever triumphant over death in that glorious immortallity, which shall cause all our torments to die, to make all our glories survive.

Then shall be the time when chast lovers, who have affected each other so entirely in conjugall amities, and who were separated by deaths so do­lorous, that they (as it were) forced their eyes to dissolve with their hearts over the Tombes of their deare consorts, shall recover their losses, and shall behold those persons they so much estee­med, [Page 91] encompassed round about with inestima­ble glory: what embracements then! what pro­fusions of hearts! what entertainments! what discourses! when all that which we shall see of the earth, (we being seated over those vast Tem­ples of starres, lights, and intelligences) shall seeme little and unworthy to possesse a heart made for eternity.

There it is (great Countesse) where I hope we shall behold that wel-beloved, To the Lady Countesse of S. PAVL and so worthy to bee beloved sonne of yours; there it is, where we shall see that brave Duke of Frons;sac issuing out out of his Tombe, as out of the enkindled pile of the Phoenix, out of a chariot of glory, from an Altar of immortality. The bloud of the most il­lustrious house of Orleans which ranne in his veines, those rayes of Majesty which his celesti­all spirit imprinted on his forehead, that grace of speach which dwelt on his lips, that valour which possessed his heart, that piety which en­tertained all the powers of his soule, all those gifts of God, which waited on his person, shall bee much fairer then ever, since they shall ne­ver desist to be faire. The mountaine of Gelboa hath taken away from us this Ionathas yet mor­tall; and the mountaines of Sion will restore him us, immortall. Hee hath printed the earth with his courage, and loyalty, with the characters of his bloud, voluntarily sacrificing himselfe for the glory of God, the service of the King, the re­pose of France, in an age, wherein the most de­plored, die; but in a manner whereof none are [Page 92] fit to die, but the most glorious. At this great day, he shall impresse on the firmament of lights which shall issue from his body, the excellent beauties of his soule, and shall appeare to our eyes more lustrous, then the brightest of starres. Lift up the eyes of hope, and faith above all that is mortall, to behold him now in this state of im­mortality. Prevent your joyes by the stability of your beliefe. Let weake mothers weepe, who thinke they have enclosed in a Tombe, all they possessed, and confidently take palmes, and lil­lies to crowne his image, and honour his ashes, oft-times repeating this noble saying, which so worthily replenished your lips in the most vehe­ment smarts of your wounds. My God, thou hast bro­ken my fetters, I wil sacrifice an hoast of praise unto thee.

Let us preserve our selves wholy pure for this great day. Let us sigh after it in the fervour of so many miseries; Let us anticipate its splendors amongst so much darkenesse; Let us looke upon it thorough so many obstacles, with an eye min­gled with teares, and love.

And, that we may leave the mind satisfied in these discourses, Take (good Reader) three no­table instructions, where in this whole History is concluded.

The first shalbe upon the subject of these reac­knowledgements and Christian accidents, to a­dore the divine providence with a most humble reverence, to be willing to depend on it in all the parts of our life, to commit all the time to come thereof, to it's direction, and to condemne the [Page 93] vanity of those who are ready to maintaine this History was an effect of the starres.

We have now a dayes in the World too many spirits ill rectified, Horoscopes. which make no scruple to impute these great vicissitudes to Heavenly con­stellations, and to appoint the starres to be as the distributors of all the fortunes in the world. These discourses were tollerable among Pagans, borne with a yoake on their necks, under the ser­vitude of Divels; But to see Christians dig in­to the sepulchres of Gentiles, to draw from thence superstitions, observations, figments, and Chi­meraes, how can this be tolerable to those, who beare as much reverence towards Truth, as they have otherwise prudence in their carriage?

It is not my purpose in this worke to combat long against such-like opinions. A signi [...] Coe [...]i n [...] ­li [...]e timere quae timent gentes. I will not en­large my selfe upon that Oracle of Ieremy, Hier. 10. 2. which saith; The faithfull are not to beleeve stars, and signes of Heaven in that manner as Pagans doe, as if they had any superiority over our lives, and fortunes.

I will not cite the counsell of Braga, Concil. Bracca­rense 1 Tolat. [...] Chryst. et Greg. in Math c. 2. Ambr. Hex. l. 4. c. 4. nor Tolle­do against the Priscillianists, nor likewise borrow armes from the sixt homily of S. Basil upon Ge­nesis, nor from St. Chrysostome, nor St. Gregory the great upon St. Mathew, nor from Eusebius in the booke of preparation to the Gospel, Sapientia Chald [...]o [...]um Tela ara­neae in quam si cu [...]ex inciderit exvere se non potest. nor from an infinite number of others. I onely say with St. Ambrose for instruction of those who shall vouch­safe to read these lines, that the Astrologie of these ill composed spirits, and the webbs of spi­ders [Page 94] are two things of like nature, they are fit to entangle flies, not soules well grounded in the sincerity of ancient beliefe.

They who undoubtedly promise themselves vain haps from their Horoscopes; & those who de­ceive them, are so much unfurnished of reason, as disposed to a coldnesse in Religion. And of this, there are cleere pertinent proofes: For first of all, those who deale with setting Horoscopes, as much understand the great Oeconomy of Heaven, and the pretended signification of so many stars, as we know the Canadois, since we find their most knowing masters are (as it were) involved in per­petuall contradictions, not upon articles indif­ferent; but things meerely essentiall, upon prin­ciples, as it appeareth by the writings of Ptolomy, Albumazar, Abenezra, Cardan, and others much later. In such sort, that these contradictions de­stroy all experience which notwithstanding is the onely foundation of judiciary Astrologie.

These great Temples of light are now reserved to God, and Angels; the soveraigne Creator hath spred over a Cypres of night and darknes, to cast a veyle on our curiosity. He who cannot perfect­ly know the slip of an hearbe, nor the least little creature which creepeth on the ground, how can he boast not onely to understand the courses, and measures of stars, but the most secret impressi­ons, they may have over the objects of this lower world? Moreover, although these stars had pow­er over bodies, over humours, and inclinations, where would their command be over a soule im­materiall, [Page 95] created to the image of God, called by the title of glory in the Scripture? And which Tertullian dareth very well tearme the occupati­on of the divine spirit, Gene. 49. v. 6 Secundum Hebr. Tertul. de resur. the Queen of the vniverse, the sister of Iesus? Ptolomy the ablest among them, doth not hee affirme, Carnis. Iugenij divini cura magna molitionis Regi­na, Christi Sor [...] that wise men sway over stars, thinking it vnresonable to impute the hap­pines of life, to the influence of celestiall bodies, so to bereave them, the effects of prudence? In the third place, Let us put case the stars governe us, and that according to their diverse aspects we may devine upon the chances of men, that we may inferre such a child borne under such a con­stitution of planets, had heretofore such a for­tune: and therefore the other which followeth in his birth the same tracks, shall have the same hap. I demand what meanes have they to esta­blish this Maxime, and to make a science in so great uncertainty, since those stars never returne againe to the same point, or if they doe returne, it wilbe in the revolution of almost innumerable ages, which no man hath seene, not ever shall? It may be said, the planets finish their courses in a very small number of yeeres, which is the cause we may the more easily observe them, but who will dare to affirme the planets alone have part in my nativity, and that so many other unknowne stars are idle in Heaven; without having any in­fluence upon mortall things? This is it which Seneca condemned in the Astrologers of his time. They confine us (saith hee) to a very slen­der quantity of starres, and see not that all these [Page 96] great celestiall bodies which are over our heads, are able to make great mutations.

In the end, who knowes not that according to S. Augustines reason, the motion of Heauen, is so swift, that to goe about to write downe the good happ of man in this great booke, is to en­grave characters on the water? Experience is ex­posed to these reasons: Some predictions of A­strologers are produced, which are said to have beene true, and it is no wonder, seeing the num­ber of their truths being so small, it will bee no very hard matter to reckon them, but hee that would summe the lies and impostures, may e­quall them with the sands of the sea.

Well now I aske, if so many wits who labor to turne names, and make Anagrams sometimes by chance, happen right, as he who found upon the name of one Andrè Paion Pendis a Rion, that which afterward happened unto him, must wee conclude thereupon that the skill of Anagrams is divine and infallible? Every good judgement will hold this proposition ridiculous, and who sees not that Astrologers confounding starres, times, and celestiall houses, make of our lives, that, which Anagrammatists do with our names, shall we then beleeue them? The Arabian Al­bumazar held as an Oracle of learning amongst them; having once attributed the advancement of Christianity to the good concurrence of con­stellations, went about out of madnesse to take the measure of its progresses, to which God hath appointed no limits: He left in writing two most [Page 97] notable falshoods upon this point, the first wher­of is, that after the revolution of three ages, chan­ges of Empires should bee made in the world, as for example (saith hee) three hundred yeeres af­ter Alexander the great, Arelazor advanced him­selfe who conquered the Persians, which is most untrue, and never heard of thorough all histories. Hee proceedeth and saith, that three hundred yeeres after this Arelazor, Christ the Messias is borne, which by his account should have beene sixe hundred yeeres after Alexander, although according to the supputation of the most under­standing, this Monarch lived, but three hundred and fifty yeeres before him. But let us passe o­ver this Parachronisme, the same man addeth, that according to the course of starres, he found Christian religion should continue, a thousand and foure hundred yeeres, and (God be thanked) it hath already exceeded those, more then two hundred, and shall last to the world's end. Who can endure these lies, and impieties, if hee hath not abjured verity▪ and piety, to become a slave to Iupiter and Saturne.

Great ones should at the least have regard to the experience of so many Princes, who follow­ing the Maximes of judiciall Astrologie, led a timerous, and painefull life, which they conclu­ded in most tragicall events▪ The Pharao's of E­gypt, who were perpetually bent upon Horoscopes, and caused children to bee slaine whose Ascen­dents imported predictions of scepters and crownes, were destroyed by the omnipotent hand [Page 98] of God. The Tiberiuses and Dioclesians, who were so happy among Astrologers, Cael. Rod. Nica­tas. Cardan▪ Au­gustin. de doctri­na Christiana. have beene unhap­py in their Empires, wherin they lived as Lyons, ruddy with bloud, and fettered with many passi­ons. Manuel Comnenus became by these wayes su­spitious, Nugatoria, et noxia superstitio, ex quadam pesti­fera societate ho­minum, et daemo­num. and cruell. Branas was taken by Isaacius Angelus, Peter of Castile miserably deprived of scepter, and life. And Lewis Forza who did all by the direction of a Mathematician, was vanqui­shed, dispoyled, and put into an iron cage.

Let us then say with St. Augustine that all this superstition is not only vaine▪ Instruction concerning amitie. but pernitious, and that there is some apparance it is sprung from a wicked alliance between men and divels.

The second lesson shall be, well to purifie your amities, for as those persons whom we have repre­sented unto you, loving one another very chast­ly, yea with in the bonds of love purely humane, have in the end reaped much contentment, and glory from their charitable offices: So there is no doubt but that amity elevated by a divine mo­tive, besides, that it is one of the most delicious charmes of humane life, must of necessity bee of much merrit before the divine Majesty.

Verily, wee affirme those ancients saw much, when they said love was a desire of immortality; For every creature necessarily loveth its Being, which is the foundation of all good and well-be­ing, which alone maketh Being to bee desired, and the ever Being, which is the accomplishment of well being. But as each thing created procee­ding from nothing, tendeth insensibly to no­thing, [Page 99] and cannot have from its stock this perpe­tuall Being, it seekes to revive, and produce it selfe it some kind of immortality by the meanes of love, which makes alliances, and productions in all nature.

But the desire of a brutish immortality, is a thing very low, and abiect in comparison of the conditions of the spirit, which looke towards a­nother life, another state, above all the wayes of nature.

How much thinke we, do our soules (which are noble, intelligent, and divine) desire not simply to be immortallized; for they already are im­mortall, but to be eternized in a fulnesse of liber­ty by the helpe of love, which maketh us live in the thing we love.

These poore soules naturally desirous of eter­nity, tie themselves by love to many obiects, to find out the contentment they pursue; but, as all creatures are necessitous, they starve, and deceive them, teaching them in the end by their proper hunger, and deceit, that there is but one onely meanes to make them happy, and eternall, which is to enter into the heart and love of a Being su­preame, & independent. Notwithstanding God though inuisible, traceth on the lights of the Heavens, on the enamell of flowers, on the chri­stall of fountaines, and upon so many other crea­tures, Beauties, and Vertues, which are visible characters of his divinity, and if we learne to use holy, the blessings he powreth upon essence crea­ted to apply them wholy to the essence increate, [Page 100] wee very soone shall arrive to the perfection of love.

But in stead of following these pathes which the Saints tracked out unto us, the most part of men, brutish of sence, and benummed in Reason shut up the maiesty of love, in a caytive, and mi­serable passion, wherein they commit as great a crime, as those Egyptian Idolaters, who lodged their Divinities in the bodies of Rats, and rere­mice. The loue which now adayes beares sway in the world with so much fury, is the house of stormes, a sweet poyson, a golden snare, a pleasing cut-throat, an ungoverned feaver, a perpetuall folly, A vertigo, a losse of wit, which having ren­dered man unprofitable to all things, maketh him unable for love it selfe: It entreth into the heart, as the Indian Rat into the belly of the Cro­codile, where after it hath left impressions of qua­lities most maligne, and infectious, it parcheth up all the flowers of it, it vilifieth all that which is generous, and perverteth what is Religious. What man is there who (as yet) having some lit­tle wisedome, and understanding, would make himselfe a slave to such a passion, to deliver his soule over to sinne, his body to infection, his re­putation to opprobry, and his life to a perpetu­all bondage?

If we must love, (as one cannot live without it) let us goe to this chaste loue, the altar whereof alwayes pure, ever burning, is supported by foure Columns, which are Intention, Discretion, Faith, and Patience: Intention, that one may love to [Page 101] the honour of God, and have an object, wherein vertue may be exercised: Discretion, that ami­ties may be guided, and contained in duty and decorum: Faith, that promises may be kept, se­crets, and rights of amity, inviolably observed: Patience, that one may constantly persevere in loving, notwithstanding all oppositions which may interpose to dissolve this vnion.

But when shall we finde these qualities in the amities of the world? Is not intention effemi­nate, and mercenary, discretion inconsiderate, fi­delity most unconstant, patience uncertaine? There needeth but one word ill understood, but a cold countenance, but an ill tale, but a bad in­terest, to breake amities that were thought most strong, wherein they plainly shew themselves to have been never what they professe, since they so soone desist, to be what they protested.

If we speake of amities between sexe, and sexe, and that in those we observe any to be most pure, and ardent, as some such may be found, they are Angels, which exeecise it in mortall flesh, and howsoever the matter goes the approaches un­to them, are ever fearefull, since vertues them­selves (as said St. Austine) cannot be loved with­out danger.

The ancients beleeved women by their conver­sation had transformed their gods into beasts, to teach us, men might therein become something worse, and that there was not any sanctity so strong, which had not ever in these amities a slippery foot; if it tooke not the feare of God, [Page 102] and discretion for companions. If we consider the amities of youth among the same sexe they are for the most part inconstant, inconsiderate, without weight, without reason, without mea­sure: They often begin by chance, proceed up­on slights, and shiftings, and conclude upon neglect. If they be amities of men tied to estates, fortunes, and conditions of the world, they all re­flect upon their owne interests, and have not that spirit of community, which is the soule of good will.

Finally all worldly loves resemble the statue of the god Moloch, which had outwardly good­ly semblances, and inwardly emptinesse, and flames; how pleasing; and gentile soever they seeme exteriorly, they are hollow within; they are burning, troublesome, and having possessed a heart, leave it nothing but smoake, and barke. Let us then learne the love of God, and in God, and for God, deriving our affections from Hea­ven, and perpetually making them reascend to their source.

In the end (for a third consideration) strive by imitation of our great Charles to destroy Idols, not of Temples, but of hearts, to render that glo­ry to the true God which creatures usurpe, by de­filing with such basenesse, that, which they stole away with so unbounded arrogance.

That grosse Idolatry which set gods on altars, which wee now would take for Monsters, is no longer in vogue of this world wherein wee live, but another is slipt into the place thereof much [Page 103] more subtile, and spirituall, which maketh men and women, who live in some eminence of great­nesse, to adore riches, beauty, and other gifts, much esteemed by the world.

All is ful of idolaters, in the secular life, all is re­plenished with flatterers, who reverence the for­tune of great ones, and speake of them in so bold tearmes, that after they have left shame, they put themselves in hazard to loose Religion. A Lord, or Lady, is not now adayes praysed if we say not, It is a creature to be adored. It is a Divinity sent on earth to make it selfe knowne, and beloved in mortall members, that its spirit begins, where, that, of the most supreame intelligencies ends; that it is the prime of faces so renowned amongst the Hebrews, That it hath nothing common with others, but birth, and death. That there needs the life of a Phoenix, to make up such another master­peece, and such like vaine complements, intol­lerable even to those who are most greedy of ap­plauses.

Is it not to fill the world with idols thus to pro­ceed? and to make cannonizations grounded up­on Capritches of a giddy spirit, who desire to make the dreams of lovers to passe into Maximes of verity?

Let us learne to looke on all the greatnesses of the world, as things mortall, and on all these ima­ges of vanity as gliding shadowes, which have nothing solid in them. Let us looke on them, as eggs, which make a faire shew outwardly, but have oft-times an Aspicke within: Let us looke [Page 104] on them as enchanted apples, which invite all the world to taste, and poyson all that eate them. Let us look on them as those pieces of Tapistry, which on the best side shew countreys and peo­ple, and on the backe side, seames, stitches, knots, and vgly shapes.

When we see some prosperity which smileth on us, let us think it resembles those Indian reeds, which grow not without knots, and windings.

If we behold some good in the creature, let us presently lift up our eies to the Creator, and give thanks to this spirit of lights, this most pure Act, this intelligible sphere, fountain of Idaeas, source of Essences, the chiefe of beauties, to whom I consecrate my heart, and pen in this little peece, beseeching him to continue his blessings over my designes, and workes. *⁎*