Greenes neuer too late. Or, A powder of experience: sent to all youthfull gentlemen to roote out the infectious follies, that ouer-reaching conceits foster in the spring time of their youth. Decyphering in a true English historie, those particular vanities, that with their frostie vapours nip the blossoms of euery ripe braine, from atteining to his intended perfection. As pleasant, as profitable, being a right pumice stone, apt to race out idlenesse with delight, and follie with admonition. Rob. Greene in artibus Magister.

GREENES Nunquam sera est.

BEing resident in Bergamo, not farre distant from Venice, sitting vnder a coole shade that thē shrow∣ded me from the extreme violence of the meridionall heate, hauing neuer a booke in my hand to be∣guyle tyme, nor no patheticall impression in my head to procure any secret meditation, I had flat fallen into a slumber, if I had not espied a traueller weary and desolate, to haue bended his steppes towards me. De∣sirous to shake off drowsinesse with some companie I at∣tended his arriuall; but as hee drewe ne••re, he s••emed so quaint in his attire, and so conceited in his countenaunce, as I deemed the man eyther some penitent pilgrime that was very religious, or some despayring louer that had bin too too affectionate: For thus take his description.

An Ode.

Downe the valley gan he tracke, Bagge and bottle at his backe, In a surcoate all of gray, Such weare Palmers on the way, When with scrip and staffe they see Iesus graue on Caluarie, A hat of straw like a swaine

Shealter for the sonne and raine, With a scollop shell before: Sandalls on his feete he wore, Legs were bare, armes vnclad, Such attire this Palmer had. His face faire like Titans shine•• Gray and b••••some were his eyne, Whereout dropt pearles of sorrow: Such sweete teares Loue doth borrow, When in outward d••awes she plaines Harts distresse that Louers paines•• Rubie lips, cherrie cheekes, Such rare mixture Venus seekes, When to keepe hir damsels quiet Beautie sets them downe their diet: Adon' was not thought more ••aire. Curled lockes of amber haire: Lockes where Loue did sit and twine Nets to snare the gazers eyne: Such a Palmer nere was seene, Lesse loue himsel••e had Palmer been. Yet for all he was so quaint Sorrow did his visage taint. Midst the riches of his face, Griefe decyphred hi•• disgrace: Euerie step stra••••d a ••eare, Sodaine sighes shewd his feare: And yet his feare by his sight, Ended in a str••nge delight. That his passions did approue, We••des and sorrow were for loue.

Thus attired in his trauelling roabes and leueld out in the lineaments of his Phis••••mie, not seeing me that lay close in the thicketh h•••• ••ate him downe vnder a Beech tree, where after he had taken vp his seate with a sigh he began

thus to point out his passions.

Infortunate Palmer, whose wéedes discouers thy woes, whose lookes thy sorrowes, whose sighes thy repen∣tance: tho•• wandrest to beway••e thy sinne, that hereto•• fore hast not wondred at the greatnesse of sinne; and seek∣est now by the sight of a strange Land, to satisfie those sol∣••••es committed in thy Natiue home. Why, is there more grace in the East than in the West•••• is God more graci∣ous in ••ewrie, than mercifull in England? more fauoura∣ble to Palmers for their trauell, than pi••ifull to sinner•• for their penaunce? No, bee not so superstitious, least thou measuring his fauour by circumstaunce, hee punish thy faultes in seueritie. Ah, but the déepest vlcers haue the sharpest corasiues, some sores can not be cured but by Sub∣l••matum, and some offences as they beginne in content so they ende in sack••loth: I weare not this Palmers gray to challenge grace, nor seeke the holy Land to counteruaile the Lawe, nor am a Pilgrime to acquittance sinne with penaunce: but I content mee in this habite to shewe the meeknes of my hart, and trauel through many countries to make other men lear••e to beware by my harmes: for if I come amōgst youth, I will shew them that the finest buds are soonest ••••p•• with frosts, the sweetest flowers sores•• ea∣ten with canckars, & the ripest & yong••st ••its soonest ouer∣growen with follies: if I chance among Courtiers, I wil tel thē, ••hat as the star Artophilex is brightest, yet setteth soonest; so their glo••••es b••ing most gorgeous, are dash•• with sodainest ouerthrowes: if amōg schol••ers, I wil proue that their Philosophical axiomes, their quiddities of Logicke, their aphorisms of art, are dissolued with this definit peri••d Omma sub sole vanitas•• If amongst Louers, and with this the teares fell from his eyes, and the sighes flew from his hart, as if all should split again: If quoth he, (and he dou∣bled his words with an Emphasis) I fall amōgst Louers, I will de••ypher to them that their God is a boy, as fond as he is blinde; their Goddesse a woman, inconstant•• false,

flattring, like the windes that rise in the shoares of Lepan∣thus, which in the morning send forth gusts frō the North, and in the Euening calmes from the West•• that their fan∣cies are like Aprill showers, begun with a Sunne shine, & ended in a storme; their passions déep hels, their pleasures Chimeraes portraitures, sodaine ioyes that appearing like Iuno, are nothing when Ixion toucheth them but duskie & fading clowdes. Here he stopped, and tooke his scrip from his backe, and his bottle from his side, and with such cates as he had, as limons, apricocks and oliues, he began a pal∣mers banquet, which digesting with a cup of wine well tē∣pred with water, after euerie draught he sighed out this Nunquam sera est ad bonos mores via. When he had taken his repast, casting vp his eyes to heauen, as beeing thank∣full for his benefites and sorrowfull for his sinnes, falling into a déepe meditation, after hee had a while lien as a man in a Traunce, he started vp sodainly, and with a halfe chée∣red countenance song out this Ode.

The Palmers Ode.

OLde Menalcas on a day, As in field this shepheard lay•• Tuning of his o••en pipe, Which he hit with manie a stripe; Said to Coridon that hee Once was yong and full of glee, Blithe and wanton was I then: Such desires follow men. As I lay and kept my sheepe, Came the God that hateth sleepe, Clad in armour all of fire, Hand in hand with Queene Desire: And with a dart that wounded nie, Pearst my heart as I did lie: That when I wooke I gan sweare,

Phillis beautie palme did beare. Vp I start, foorth went I, With hir face to feede mine eye: There I saw Desire sit, That my heart with Loue had hit, Laying foorth bright Beauties hookes To intrap my gazing lookes. Loue I did and gan ••o woe, Pray and sigh, all would not doe: Women when they take the toy Couet to be counted coy. Coy she was, and I gan court, She thought Loue was but a sport. Profound Hell was in my thought, Such a paine Desire had wrought, That I sued with sighes and teares, Still ingrate she stopt hir eares, Till my youth I had spent. Last a passion of Repent, Tolde me flat that Desire, Was a br••nd of Loues fire, Which consumeth men in thrall, Vertue, youth, wit, and all. At this sawe backe I start, Bet Desire from my hart, Shooke of Loue and made an ••th, To be enemie to both. Olde I was when thus I fled, Such fond ••oyes as cloyde my hea••. But this I learnd at Vertues ga••e, The way to good is neuer late. Nunquam sera est ad bonos mores via.

As soone as he had ended his Ode, he fell to his old prin∣ciple Nunquam sera est: and confirming it with a sigh, he

rose vp, & was ready to depart towards Bergamo to take vp his lodging, for the s••nne was declining towardes the West.

But I desirous to search further into this passionate Palmer, crost him the way with this salutation: Pal∣m••r (for so thy appar••ll discouers) and penitent, if thy in∣ward h••art agree with thy outward passions; if my ques••i∣ons may not aggrauate thy griefe, nor my demaund be te∣dious to thy trauels, let me craue of curtesie whither thou dost bend the end of thy pilgrimage, that if thou beest stept awry, I may dir••ct thee, or if thou knowest the countrey, I may wish boone fortune to thy iou••ney; for I haue all my life time coueted to be faithful to my friends and curteous to strangers. The Palmer amazed at my sodaine saluta∣tion stept backe and be•••• his bro••es, as if he feared some preiudice, or were offended at my presence; but when h••e saw me weaponlesse, and without companie, and yet so af∣fable in words a••d debonaire in exterior curtesi••s as might importe a Gentleman, he deuoutly mooued his bonnet of gray, and m••de this reply.

Gentleman (for no lesse you seeme) if the flower may be knowen by smel, or the man by his words. I am a Pal∣mer, discouered by my gray, and a penitent, if you note my griefe, which sorrow is as effectuall as my attire is lit••le counterfeite, the direction of my iourney is not to Ierusa∣lem: for my faith telles me, Christ can d••aw as great fa∣uour downe in England as in Iericho: and prayers are not heard for the place, but in the b••h••lfe of the person hartilie repentant. My natiue home is England, the ende of my iourney is Venice, where I meane to visit an olde f••iend of mine, an Eng••ishman, to whome I haue beene long time indebted, and nowe meane partely to repay with such store as I haue bought with hard expe••ience. This night I will r••st in the next vill••ge, and thus I hope sir you rest sa••••sfied.

This auswere of the Palmer made mee the more desi∣rous

to enquire into his state, that I intreted him I might be hoste to such a guest: and seeing I was resident in Ber∣gamo, where that night he mean•• to harbour, such lodging as a country Gentleman could affoord, and such che••re as such a village might on the sodaine yéelde, should be at his commaund.

Well coulde this Palmer skill of courtesie, and re∣turning mee many thankes, voucht of my proffer, and was willing to take my house for his Inne. As wee past on the way, wee chaunced to fall into prattle thus. Sir (quoth I) if I might wi••h many questions not be offen∣siue, I woulde faine be inquisitiue to knowe, as you haue passed along France, Germanie, the Rine, and part of Italie, what you haue noted woorthie of memorie. Moouing his cappe as a man that was passing courteous, he answe∣red thus: I tell you sir (quo••h he) as a foolish ques••ion merites silence, so a familiar demaunde craues a friendly replie of duety, although Zeno the philosopher counted it more honour to be a silent naturall••st, than an eloquent O∣ratour. But as I am not a Gymnosophist to iangle at euery Sophisticall Obiection, so I am not a seuere Stoicke to answere but by Syllables, and therfore thus to your question.

After I had cut from Douer to Calice, I rem••mbred what olde Homer writte of Vlysses, that he coueted, not onely to sée strange Countries, but with a déepe insight to haue a view into the manners of men: so I thought as I passed thorough Paris, not onelie to please mine eie, which the curious Architecture of the building, but wi••h the diuerse disposition of the inhabita••tes. I f••unde ther∣fore the Court (for I aime first at the fayrest) to haue a King fit for so royall a Regiment, if hee had ••eene as perfect in true Religion, as pollitique in Martiall Dis∣cipline, th•• Cour••••ers, they as Aris••ippus faw••de vpo•• Dyonisius, turning like to the Cameleon into the likenesse of euerie Obiect that the King proff••red to

their humorous conceits, for if the king smiled euery one in the Court was in his iollitie, if he frownd, their plumes fell like the peacocks feathers, so that their outward pre∣sence depend••d on his inward passions. Generally so, but particularly thus; the French Gentlemen are amorous, as soone perswaded by the beauty of their mistresse, to make a braule, as for the maintenance of religion, to enter ••rmes; their eyes are like Salamander stones, that fier at the sight of euery flame; their hearts as queasie as the mi∣neralls of Aetna that burne at the heate of the sunne, and are quencht with the puffe of euery winde. They count it Courtlike to spende their youth in courting of Ladies, and their age in repen••ing of sinnes, yet more forward in the one, than deuout in the other. They bandy glaunces vpon euery face, and as though they would approoue eue∣ry passion for a principle, they set downe the p••riod with a deepe sigh: yet, as the breath of a man vpon st••••le no soo∣ner lighteth on but it leapeth off, is the beginning and en∣ding of their loues. Thus much for th••i•• amour••. Now for their a••ms, they be hardy souldiors and r••s••l••••e. For their faith, friendship, religion, or other par••icular qualities, for there is a league betwixt vs & them: I wil spare to speak, least in b••ing Satyricall, I should plod too far with Dio∣genes, or in flattering their faults or their follies, I shold claw a fooles shoulder with Dauus in Terence, skipping therefore from them to the Germans. Nay stay sir (quoth I) before you passe the Alpes, giue me leaue to holde you an houre still in Lions: for though you be a Palmer and religious, yet I hope such deepe deuotion rested not in you, but an ounce of Venus fauours hung in your eies, and when you had sp••nt the morning in orisons, you could in the afternoone lend a glaunce to a faire Lady. The egle soares not so hie in the aire, but ••e can spie a little fish in the sea, the sunne in Cancer goes retrograde, the coldest clime hath his summer, and Apollo was neu••r so stoicall, but sem••l in anno he could let fall a smile; and the most seuere

p••lgrime or palmer hath an eye well 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a heart, and a looke to lend to beauty as a thought to bend to Theology. Ther∣fore I pray you what thinke you of the French women: at this question although his grauity was great, y••t with a pleasant countenance he made this reply: although fire is hote as well in the coldest region of the North, as in the furthest Southerne paralell, the grasse of the same colour in Egypt as it is in Iewry, and women wheresoeuer they be br••d be mala necessaria, yet though their general essence be all one as comming from Eua, and therefore froward, inconstant, light, amorous, d••c••itfull•• and quid non, better desciphered by Mantuan than I can make description of: yet as the Diamonds in India be more harde than the Cornish s••on••s in England, as the margarites of the west are more orient than the pearles of the Sou••h, so womens affections are ••ffected after the disposition of the clime wh••rein they are borne although Auycen in his Aphoris∣mes settes downe this conclusion, that thornes no where growe without prickes, nor nettles without stings; but leauing off these preambles, thus to your qu••stion. The women in France generally as concerning the exteriour ••iniam••nts of their outward perfection, are beautifull, as being westernly seated neere great Brittaine where nature si••s & hatcheth beauteous paramours: yet although natu∣r•• naturans hath shewed her cunning in their purtraiturs, as women that thinke nothing perfect that Arte hath not pollished, they haue drugges of Alexandria, mineralls of Egypt, waters from Tharsu••, paintings from Spaine: and what to doe forsooth? To make them more beautifull than v••rtuous, and more pleasing in the eies of men than delite∣full in the sight of God, this is but their ext••rior vanitie that blemisheth their inward vertues, if they haue any, but more to their interior inclination. Some, as if they were votaries vnto Venus, and at their natiuities had no other influence, take no pleasure but in amorous passions no de∣light but in madrigales of loue, wetting Cupids winge••

with rosewater, and tricking vp his quiuer with swéete per∣fumes, they set out their faces as Foulers doo their daring glasses, that the Larks that soare highest may stoope soonest, and assoone as the poore louing fo••les are wrapt within their nettes, then they sue with sighes, and plead with Sonnets, faine tears, & paint out passions to win her, that seeming to be coy, comes at the first lure: for when they sée yong noui∣ces intrapt, then the French dames are like to the people Hyperborei that spurning liquorice with their féet, secret∣ly slake their hunger with the iuice therof; so they outward∣ly seming to contemne their sutors motions, stand in deadly feare, least they shuld leaue off their amorous passiōs: so that they haue loue in their eie-lids, so slēderly tacked on by fan∣cy, as it drops off with euery dreame, and is shakte off with euery vaine slumber. Some of thē are as Sapho was, sub∣tile to allure, & slippery to deceiue, hauing their hearts made of waxe ready to receiue euery impression, not content till they haue as many louers as their hearts haue entrance for loue, and those are like to pumice stones that are light & ful of holes. Some are as inconstant as Cressyda, that be Troi∣lus neuer so true, yet, out of sight out of mind: and as soone as Diomede begins to court, she like Venetian traffique is for his penny, currant à currendo, sterling coine passable from man to man in way of exchange. Others are as Lidia, cruell, whose harts are hammered in the forge of pride, thin∣king themselues too good for all, and none worthie of them, and yet oft times nestling all day in the sunne with the bée∣tle, are at night contēted with a cowsherd for shelter. These haue eies of Basiliskes, that are preiudiciall to euery ob∣iect, and hearts of Adamant not any way to be pierced: and yet I thinke, not dying maides, nor leading Apes in hel: for Vestaes sacrifice ceased long since in Rome, and Uirgins are as rare as blacke swannes, opportunitie is •• sore plea in Venus Court, able, I tell you, to ouerthrowe the coyest she that is: I could inferre more particular instances, and di∣stinguish more at large of the French Gentlewomen: but

let me leaue them to their humorous vanities, and resolue ••ur selues, that Ireland doth not onely bring forth wolues, nor Egypt Crocodiles, nor Barbaris Leopards, nor Franc•• such qualified women, but as the earth yéeldes weedes as wel in the lowest valleys, as in the highest mountains, so women are vniuersally mala necessaria, wheresoeuer they be ••yther bred or brought vp. With this conclusiue period he breathed him: & I could not but smile to see the palmer shake his head at the fondnesse of women, as a man that had bin galled with their ingratitude. Well, after he had pawsed a little, he left France, and began to talke of Germa∣ny, and that was thus: After I had left Lions, I passed vp the Alp••••, and coasted into Germany, where, as I found the Country seated vnder a cold clime, so I perceiued the peo∣ple high-minded and fuller of wordes than of courtesie, gi∣uen more to drincke than to deuotion: and y••t sundry pla∣ces stuffed with schismes and heresies, as people that de∣light to be factious: there might you see their interior va∣nities more than their outward apparell did importe, and oft times their vaunts more than their manhoode: for loue, as I saw Venus of no great accompt, yet shee had there a temple, and though they did not beautifie it with iewels, they plainely powred foorth such Orizons as did bewray, though they could not court it as the French did with art, yet their Iust was no lesse, nor their liues more honest. Be∣cause the people were little affable, I grewe not so farre inquisitiue into their manners and customes, but sicco pede past them ouer, so that I trauelled vp as farre as Vienna, where I saw a thing worthie of memorie. In a Ualley betweene two high mountaines topt with trees of mar∣ueilous verdure, whereby ran a fountaine pleasant as well for the murmure of the streames, as for the sweetenesse of waters, there was scituated a litle lodge artificialy built, and at the doore, a man of v••rie great grauitie and no lesse age, sa••e leaning vpon his staffe, so to take the

benefit of the aire & the sunne, his haires were as white as the threeds of silke in Arabia, or as the Palme trees on the mount Libanus; many yeeres had made fur••ows in his face, where experience sace and seemed to tel forth oracles: deuotion apeared in his habite, & his outward cloth disco∣uered his inward heart, that the old Hermit seemed in the world a resolute despiser of the world: standing a while and wondring at this olde man, at last al reuerence doone that his yeeres did require, or my youth was bound vnto, after salutatiōs I questioned him of the order of his life, who an∣swered me with such curtesie and humilitie as I perceiued in his words the perfit Idea of a mortified man: after sundry questions broken with pro & contra, at last he tooke me by the hand & caried me into his cell, where I found not those Vtensilia which Tully sayes are necessary to be in euery cottage, but I found books and th••t of Theologie, a drin∣king cup, and that was full of water: a d••ad mans scul, an houre glasse, and a Bible, thus only was his house garni∣shed. After he had sate downe a litle, he looked me very ear∣ne••••ly in the face, as a man that had some skil in phis••ogno∣my, to censure of the inward qualities by the outward ap∣pearāce, at last in ••ough hie Dutch verses he thus breached out his opinion, which I drew thus into blancke verse.

The Hermites first exordium.

Here looke my sonne for no vainegloriou•• shews Of royall apparition for the eye, Humble and m••eke befitteth men of yeeres, Behold my cell built in a silent shade, Holding content for pouertie and peace, And in my lodge is fealtie and faith, Labour and loue vnited in one league. I want not, for my minde affordeth wealth•• I know not enuie, for I climbe not hie: Thus do I liue, and thus I meane to die.

Then hee stept to his shelfe, and takes downe a deaths head, whereon looking as a man that meditated vpon some déepe matter, he shooke his head, and the teares standing in his ••yes, he prosecuted his matter thus.

If that the world presents illusions, Or Sathan seekes to puffe me vp with pompe, As man is fraile and apt to follow pride: Then see my sonne where I haue in my cell, A dead mans scull which cals this straight to mind That as this is, so must my ending be. When then I see that earth to earth must passe, I sigh, and say, all flesh is like to grasse.

After he had thus explained the reason why he kept the dead mans scull in his Cell, he reacht to his hower glasse, and vpon that he began thus to descant.

If care to liue, or sweete delight in life, As man desires to see out manie daies, Drawes me to listen to the flattering world: Then see my glasse which swiftly out doth runne, Comparde to man, who dies ere he begins. This tells me, time slackes not his poasting course, But as the glasse runnes out with euerie hower, Some in their youth, some in their weakest age, All sure to die, but no man knowes his time. By this I thinke, how vaine a thing is man, Whose longest life is likened to a spar.

Lastly, he tooke his Bible in his hand, whereupon leau∣ing his arme he amplified thus.

When Sat••an seekes to si••t me with his wiles, Or proudly dares to giue a fierce assault, To make a shipwracke of my faith with feares:

Then armde at all points to withstand the foe With holy armour: heres the martiall sword: This booke, this bible, this two edged blade, Whose sweete content pierceth the gates of hell: Decyphring lawes and discipline of warre, To ouerthrowe the strength of Sathans iarr••.

Thus the Hermite discouered to mee the secrets of his Cell: and after, that I should be priuie to all his Patheti∣call conceipts, hee brought foorth a fewe rootes, and such s••mple diet as he had, to confirme that hee tyed Nature euerie waye within hit limits: wondring at the methode he vsed in his Cell, after I had taken my repast with him, as we met courteouslie, we parted friendly; he with exhor∣tations to beware of youths follies; I with thankes and reuerence to his age•• yeares, for his graue and fatherly perswasion: so I went from his Cell to Vienna, and from thence coasted vp into the borders of Italy.

The Palmer had scarce named Italy, but wee were come to my house, where I gaue him such intertainment, as either the abilitie of my substaunce, the plentie of the Countrey, or the shortnesse of the time could affoord: and because I would euerie wa•• grace him, I brought downe my wife to giue him a royall welcome; a fauour seldome shewed in Italy: yet because hee was a Palmer and his profession valued beautie at a light price, I did him that grace. To be short, at last we sate downe to supper, and there past the time with such pleasing chatt, as the pleasant Palmer p••eased to conferre vpon. Supper done, I des••∣red the Palmer to discourse (if it were not offensiue) what reason mooued him to direct his Pilgrimage onely to Ve∣nice? Raising himselfe vp with a smiling countenaunce he made this reply.

Courteous Gentleman, for so much your affable and liberall disposition doth a••prooue. Iupiter when hee was

interteined by poore Baucis, accounted ingratitude so hey∣nous, as hee turnde their cottage to a Temple, and made them Sacrificers at his Altars: Hospitalitie is so preci∣ous, as no price may value. Then, if I should not graunt anie lawful demaund, I might séeme as little pliant to hu∣manitie, as you lyable to courtesie: and therefore if the Ge••tlewoman your wife and you will sit vp to heare the discourses of a traueller, I will first rehearse you an En∣glish Historie acted and euented in my Countrey of Eng∣land: but for that the Gentleman is yet liuing I will sha∣dowe his name, although I manifest his follies; and when I haue made relation I will shew why I di∣rected the course of my Pilgrimage onely to Ve∣nice. My Wife by his countenaunce séemed to be merueilous content, and my selfe kept silence: Whereupon the Palmer began as followeth.

The Palmers Tale.

IN those dayes when Palmer•••• reigned King of great Britaine, famoused for his déedes of Chi∣ualrie, there dwelled in the Citie of Caerbranck; a Gentleman of an ancient house, called Francesco a man whose parentage though it were worshipfull, yet it was not indued with much wealth: in so∣much that his learning was better than his reuenewes, & his wit more beneficiall than his substance. This Signor Francesco desirous to bend the course of his compasse to some peaceable Port, spread no more cloath in the winde than might make easie saile, least hoys••ing vp too hastely a∣boue the maine yeard, some sodain•• gust might make him founder in the déep. Though he were yong yet he was not rash with Icarus to soare into the skie, but to crie out with olde Dedalus, Medium tenere tutissimum: treading his shooe without anie slip. He was so generally loued of the Citizens, that the richest Marchant or grauest Burghma∣ster would not refuse to graunt him his daughter in mari∣age, hoping more of his insuing fortunes, than of his pre∣sent substance. At last, casting his eye on a Gentlemans daughter that dwelt not far frō Caerbranck, he fell in loue, and prosecuted his sute with such affable courtesie, as the maide considering the vertue and wit of the man, was con∣tent to set vp her rest with him, so that her fathers consent might be at the knitting vp of the match. Francesco thin∣king himselfe co••ksure, as a man that hoped his credite in the Citie might carrie away more than a country Gentle∣mans daughter, finding her father on a day at fit opportu∣ni••ie, he made the motion about the grant of his daughters

mariage. The olde churle that listened with both eares to such a question, did not in this in vtramuis aurem dormire: but leaning on his elbow, made present aunswere, that hir dowrie required a greater feoffinent than his lands were a∣ble to affoord. And vpon that, without farther debating of t••e matter, he rose vp, and hied him home, whether as soone as he came, he called his daughter before him, whose name was Isabel, to whom he vttered these words; Why Hus∣wife quoth he, are you so idle tasked, that you stand vppon thornes while you haue a husband? are you no sooner hat∣ched with the Lapwing, but you will runne away with the shell on your head? Soone prickes the trée that will proue a thorne, and a Girle that loues too soone, wil repent too late. What a husband? Why the Maides in Rome durst not looke at Venus temple till they were thirtie, nor went they vnmasked till they were maried; that neither their beau∣ties might allure other, nor they glaunce their eyes on eue∣rie wanton. I tell thée fond Girle, when Nilus ouerflow∣eth before his time, Aegipt is plagued with a dearth: the trées that blossom in Februarie, are nipped with the frosts in May; vntimely frutes had neuer good fortune, & young Gentlewomen that are wooed and won ere they be wise, sorrow and repent before they be olde. What séest thou in Francesco, that thine eye must choose, and thy heart must fancie? Is he beautifull? Why fonde Girle, what the eye liketh at morne, it hateth at night: Loue is like a hauyn, but a blaze; and Beautie, why how can I better compare it than to the gorgeous Cedar, that is onely for show and no∣thing for profite; to the apples of Tantalus, that are pre∣cious in the eye, and dust in the hand; to the starre Arto∣philex, that is most bright, but fitteth not for anie com∣passe; so yong men that stand vpon their outward portrai∣ture. I tel thée they are preiudicial: Demophon was faire, but how dealt he with Phillis? Aeneas was a braue man but a dissembler: fond girle, all are but little worth, if they be not welthie. And I pray thée, what substance hath Frā∣cesco

to endue thée with? Hast thou not heard, that want breakes amitie, that loue beginneth in golde and endeth in beggerie; that such as marie but to a faire face, tie thēselues oft to a foule bargain? And what wilt thou doo with a hus∣band that is not able to maintain thée? buy forsooth a dram of pleasure with a pound of sorrowe, and a pint of content with a whole tunne of preiudiciall displeasures? But why doo I cast stones into the aire, or breath my words into the winde; when to perswade a woman from her wil is to roll Sisiphus stone; or to hale a headstrong Girle from loue, is to tie the Furies againe in fetters. Therefore huswife, to preuent all misfortunes, I will be your Iay••er. And with that, he carried her in and shut her vp in his owne chamber, not giuing her leaue to depart but when his key gaue her license: yet at last she so cunningly dissembled, that she gat thus farre libertie, not to bee close prisoner, but to walke a∣bout the house; yet euerie night hee shut vp her cloathes, that no nightly feare of her escape might hinder his broken slumbers.

Where leauing her, let ••s returne to Francesco; who to his sorrowe heard of all these hard fortunes: and beeing pensiue was full of manie passions, but almost in despayr••; as a man that durst not come nigh her Fathers doore, nor send anie letters whereby to comfort his Mistresse, or to lay anie plot of her libertie: for no sooner anie stranger came thether, but hee suspitio••s they came from Francesco, first sent vp his Daughter into her chamber; then as watchfull as Argus with all his eyes, he pried into euerie particular gesture and behauiou•• of the partie: and if anie ielous hu∣mour tooke him in the head, he would not onely bee verie inquisitiue with cutting questions, but would straine cour∣tesies and search them very narrowly, whether they had ••∣••ie letters or no to his Daughter Isabel.

This narrow inquisitio•• made the poore Gentleman al∣most franticke, that he turned ouer Anacreon, Ouid de Ar∣•••• amend••, and all books that might teach him any sleights

of loue: but for all their principles, his own wit serued him for the best shift, and that was happely begun & fortunate∣ly ended thus; It chaunced that as hee walked thus in his muses, fetching the compasse of his conceipt beyonde the Moone, he met with a poore woman that from dore to dore sought her liuing by charitie. The woman as her custom•• was, began her exordium with I pray good Master, & so foorth, hoping to finde the Gentleman as liberall, as hee was full of gracious fauours: neither did she misse of her imag••nation; for he that thought her like••y to be drawen on to the executing of his purpose, conceipted this, that golde was as good as glew to knit her to anie practise whatsoe∣uer, & therfore out with his purse, and clapt her in the hand with a French crowne. This vnaccustomed reward made made her more frank of her cur••sies, that euerie rag reacht the Gentleman a reuerence with promise of many prayers for his health. He that harped on another string tooke the woman by the hand, & sitting down vpon the gréen grasse, discourst vnto her from point to point the beginning & se∣quell of his loues, and how by no meanes (except by her) he could conuay anie letter. The begger desirous to do the Gentleman anie pleasure, said shee was readie to take anie paines that might redound to his content. Whereupon he replied thus; Then mother, thou shalt goe to yonder Ab∣bey which is her fathers house, & when thou commest the∣ther vse thy wonted eloquence to intreate for thine almes: if the master of the house be present, shewe thy pasport, and séeme verie passionate: but if he be absent or out of y^e way, then, oh then mother, looke about if thou séest Diana mas∣king in the shape of a Uirgin, if thou spi••st Venus, nay one more beautifull than loues goddesse, & I tell thée she is my loue faire Isabel, whom thou shalt discerne from her other sister, thus: her visage is faire, conteining as great resem∣blance of vertue as liniaments of beautie, & yet I tell thee she is ful of fauor, whether thou respects the outward por∣traiture or inward perfection: her eye like the diamond, & so

pointed that it pearceth to the quick, yet so chast in the mo∣tion as therein is séene as in a myrrour courtesie tempred with a vertuous disdaine: her countenance is the verie map of modestie, and to giue thée a more néere marke, if thou fin∣dest her in the way, thou shalt sée her more liberall to be∣stow, than thou pitifull to demaund, her name is Isabell: to her from me shalt thou carrie a letter, foulded vp euerie way like thy pasport, with a greasie backside, and a great seale. If cunningly and closely thou canst thus conuey vn∣to her the tenure of my minde, when thou bringest mee an answere, I wil giue thée a brace of Angels. The poore wo∣man was glad of this proffer, and thereuppon promised to venter a ioynt, but shee would further him in his loues: whereupon she followed him to his chamber, & the whiles he writ a letter to this effect.

Signor Francesco to faire Isabel.

WHen I note faire Isabel the extremitie of thy fortunes and measure the passions of my Loue, I finde that Venus hath made thée constant to requit my miseries; and that where the greatest onset is gi∣uen by fortune, there is strongest defence made by affecti∣on: for I heard that thy father suspitious, or rather ielous of our late vnited simpathie, dooth watch like Argos ouer Io, not suffring thee to passe beyonde the reach of his eye, vnles (as he thinkes) thou shouldest ouerreach thy selfe. His minde is like the Tapers in Ianus Temple, that sette once on fire burne till they cōsume themselues; his thoghts like the Sunne beames, that search euerie secrete. Thus watching thée hee ouerwaketh himselfe; and yet I hope profiteth as little as they which gaze on the flames of Act∣na, which vanish out of their sight in smoake.

I haue heard them say (faire Isabell) that as the Dia∣mondes are tryed by cutting of Glasse, the Topace by byding the force of the Andu••ile, the Sethin Woode

by the hardnesse, so womens excellence is discouered in their constancie. Then if the periode of all their v••rtues consist in this, that they take in loue by months, and let it slip by minutes, that as the Tortois•• they créepe pedeten∣tim, and when they come to their rest, wil•• hardly be re∣mooued. I hope thou wilt confirme in thy loues the very patterne of femenine loyaltie, hauing no motion in thy thoughts, but fancie, and no affection, but to thy Francis∣co. In that I am stopped from thy sight, I am depriued of the chiefest Organ of my life•• hauing no sense in my selfe, perfect, in that I want the viewe of thy perfection, ready with sorrow to perish in dispayre, if resolued of thy constancie, I did not triumph in hope. Therefore nowe restes it in thée to salue all these sores and prouide medi∣cines for these daungerous maladies, that our passions ap∣peased, we may end ou•• harmony in the faithfull vnion of two hearts. Thou seest loue hath his shifts, and Venus q••iddities are most subtill sophistry, that he which is tou∣ched with beauty, is euer in league with opportunitie: these principles are prooued by the messenger, whose state dis∣couers my restlesse thoughts, impatient of any longer re∣pulse. I haue therefore sought to ouermatch thy father in pollicie, ••s he ouer straines vs in ielousie, and seeing hee seekes it, to let him find a knot in a rush; as therefore I haue sent thee the summe of my passions in the forme of a pasport, so returne mee a reply wrapt in the same paper•• that as wee are forced to couer our deceits in one shift, so here after we may vnite our loues in one Simpathie: Ap∣point what I shall doe to compasse a priuate conference•• Thinke I will account of the seas as Leander, of the wars as Troylus, of all dangers as a man resolued to at∣tempt any perill, or breake any preiudice for thy sake. Say, when, and where I shall meete thee, and so as I be••gunne passionately, I breake off abruptly. Farewell.

Thine in fatall resolution, Seigneur Francisco.

AFter hee had written the letter, and dispatcht the messenger hir mind was so fixed on the brace of An∣gels, that she stirred her old stumpes til she came to the house of Seigneur Fregoso, who at that instant was walkt abroad to take view of his pastures. She no sooner beganne her methode of begging with a solempne prayer, and a pater noster. But Isabell, whose deuotion was euer bent to pity the poore, came to the doore, to see the necessity of the party, who beganne to salute her thus. Faire Mi∣stresse, whose vertues exceede your be••••ties, and yet I doubt not but you deeme your perfection equiuolent wyth the rarest paragons in Brittaine, as your eye receiues the obiect of my miserie, so let your heart haue an insight into my extremities, who once was young•• and then fauou∣red by fortunes, now olde and crossed by the destinies, dri∣uen when I am weakest to the wal, and when I am worst forst to hel••e the candle. Seeing then the faultes of my youth hath forst the fall of mine age, and I am driuen in the winter of min•• yeeres to abide the brunt of al stormes, let the plenty of your youth p••ty the want of my dec••epite state; and the rather, because my fortune was once as hie as my fall is nowe lowe: for proofe, sweete Mistresse, see my pasporte, wherein you shall finde many passions and much patience: at which period, making a cour••esie, her very r••gges seemed to giue Isabell reuerence. She hea∣ring the beggar insinuate with such a sensible preamble, thought the woman had had some good partes in her, and therefore tooke her certificate, which as soone as she had o∣pened, and that she perceiued it was Franciscoes hand, she smiled, and yet bewrayed a passion with a blush. So that stepping from the woman, she went into her ••ham∣ber, where shee read it ouer with such patheticall impres∣sions as euery motion was intangled with a dilemma: for on the one side, the loue of Francisco grounded more on his interiour vertues, than his exteriour beauties, gaue such fierce assaults to the bulwa••ke of her affection, as the

Fort was ready to bee yeelded vp, but that the feare of her fathers displeasure armed with the instigations of na∣ture draue her to meditate thus with her selfe.

Now Isabell, Loue and Fortune hath brought thee in∣to a Labyrinth, thy thoughts are like to Ianus pictures, that present both peace and warre, and thy mind like Ve∣nus Anuile, whereon is hammered both Feare and Hope. Sith then the chance lieth in thine own choice, do not with Medea see and allow of the best, and then follow the worst: but of two extremes, if they be Immediata, choose that may haue least preiudice and most profi••e. Thy father is a∣ged, and wise, and many yeeres hath taught him much ex∣perience. The olde Foxe is more subtile than the young Cub, the bucke more skilfull to choose 〈◊〉〈◊〉 than the yong sawnes. Men of age feare and for••see that which youth leapeth at with repentance. If then his graue wis∣dome exceedes thy greene wit, and his ripened frutes ••hy sprowting blossoms, thinke if he speake for thy auaile, as his principles are perfect, so they are grounded on Loue and Nature. It is a neere collo••, saies he, is cut out of the owne flesh, and the ••••ay of thy fortunes, is the staffe of his life•• no dou••t he sees with a more p••etting iudge∣ment into the life of Francesco: for thou ouercome with fancie, censurest of all his actions wyth partialitie. Fran∣cesco, though hee be young and beautifull, yet his reue∣newes are not answerable to his fauours: the Cedar is faire, but vnfruitfull, the Volgo a bright streame, but without fish: men couet rather to plant the Oliue for profite, than the Alder for beautie, and young Gentle∣women shoulde rather fancie to liue, than affect to lust: for loue wythout Landes, is like to a fier wythout fe∣well, that for a while sheweth a bright blaze, and in a m••ment dyeth in his owne cinders. Doost ••hou thinke this Isabell, that thine eye may not surfeit so with beau∣tie, that the minde shall vomite vp repentaunce: yes, ••or the fairest R••ses haue prickes, the purest Lawnes

their moles, the brightest Diamonds their crackes, and the most beautifull men of the most imperfec•• conditions, for nature hauing care to pollish the body so faire, ouer∣weenes herselfe in her excellencie, that shee leaues th••ir mindes vnperfect. Whither now Isabell, into absurd A∣phorismes? what can thy father perswade thee to this, that the most glorious shelles haue not the most orient mar••a∣rites, that the purest flowers haue not the most perfect sa∣uours, that men, as they excell in proportion of bodie, so the•• exceede in perfection of minde? Is not nature both curious and absolute, hiding the most vertuous mindes in the most beautifull couertures. Why what of this fonde girle? suppose these premises be granted, yet they inferre no conclusion: for, suppose hee be beautifull and vertuous, and his wit is equall with his parentage, yet hee wantes wealth to maintaine loue, and therefore sayes olde Fregose not worthy of Isabels loue. Shall I thē tie my affection to his lands or to his liniamēts? to his riches or his qualities? are Venus altars to be filled with gold or loialty of harts? Is the Simpathie of Cupids consistorie vnited in the a∣bundance of coyne? Or the absolute perfection of constan∣cie? Ah Isabell, thinke this, that loue brooketh no exception of want, that where fancie displayes her coulours there al∣wayes eyther Plentie keepes her Court, or else Patience so tempers euery extreame, that all defectes are supplied with content. Upon this, as hauing a farther reach, and a déeper insight, she stept hastely to her standish, and writte him this answere.

Isabell to Francisco, health.

ALthough the nature of a father, and the duetie of a childe might mooue me resolutely to r••iect thy let∣ters, yet I receyued them, for that thou art Francis∣co and I Isabell, who were once priuate in affection, as now we are distant in places. But know, my father, whose

commaund to me is a law of constraint, settes downe this censure, that loue wit••out wealth is like to a Cedar tree without frute, or to corne sowen in the sands that wither∣eth for want of moisture: and I haue reason Francesco to deeme of snow by the whitenesse, and of tr••••s by the blos∣soms. The olde man whose wordes are Oracles tells me that loue that entreth in a moment, flieth out in a minute, that mens affections is like the deawe vpon a christall, which no sooner lighteth on, but it leapeth off: their eyes with euery glaunce make a newe choice, and euery looke can commaunde a sigh, hauing their heartes like Saltpe∣t••r, that fiereth at the first, and yet prooueth but a flash, their thoughts r••aching as high as C••dars, but as brittle as rods that breake with euery blast: had Car••hage b••ene bere••t of so famous a Virago: if the beaut••ous Troian had b••ene as constant as he was comely? Had th•• Qu••ene of Poetry beene pinched with so many passions, if the wan∣ton Ferriman had beene as faithfull as he was faire. No Francesco, and there••ore seeing the brightest blossoms are pes••red with most caterpillers, the sweet••st Roses wyth the sharp••st prickes, the fairest Cambrickes with the fowlest staines, and men wi••h the best proportion, haue commonly least perf••ction. I ••ay feare to swallowe the ••ooke, l••ast I finde more ba••e i•• the confection, than pleasure in the baite. But here let m•• breath, and with sighes foresée mine owne follie. Women, poore soules, are l••ke to the Harts in Calabria, that knowing Dictan∣num to be deadly, yet bruse on it with greedinesse, res••m∣bling the ••ish Mugra, that seeing the hooke bare, y••t swal∣low••s it with d••light, so women for••see, yet doo not pre∣u••nt, knowing what is profitable•• yet not esc••ewing the preiudice: so Francesco I see thy beauties, I know•• thy wa••t, and I feare thy vanities, yet can I not but allowe of all, w••re they the woorst of all, because I finde in my minde this principle; in Loue is no lacke. What should I ••rancesco couet to dally with ••he Mouse when the Cat

stands by, or fill my letter full of needlesse ambages when my father like Argos setteth a hundred eies to ouerpry my actions, while I am writing thy messenger stands at the doore praying. Therefore least I shoulde holde her too long in her orisons, or keepe the poore man too long in sus∣pence; thus briefly, Be vpon Thursday next at night hard by the Orchard vnder the greatest Oake, where expect my comming, and prouide for our safe passage: for stood all the worlde on the one side, and thou on the other, Francesco should be my guide to direct me whither hee pleased. Faile not then, vnlesse thou bee false to her that would haue life faile, ere she falsifie faith to thee.

Not hir owne, because thine, Isabell.

AS soone as shee had dispatcht her letter shee came downe, and deliuered the letter folded in forme of a pasport to the messenger, giuing her after her accu∣stomed manner an almes, and closely clapt her in the fist with a brace of Angelles, the woman thanking h••r good Maister, and her good mistresse, giuing the house her beni∣son, hied her backe again•• to Francesco, whō sh•• found sit∣ting sollitary in his chamber: no sooner did he spie hir, but flinging out of his chaire, he changed coulour as a man in a doubtfull extasie what should b••tide: yet conceyuing good hope by her count••naunce, who smiled more at the remembrance of her rewarde ••han at any other conce••t, he tooke the letter and read it, wherein he found his humour so fitted, that he not only thanked the messenger, but gaue her all the money in his purse, so that she returned so high∣ly gratified, as neuer aft••r she was founde to exercise h••r old occupation. But leauing her to the hope of her hus••••f∣••i•• againe to Francesco, who seeing the constant affec∣tion

of his mistresse, that neither the sower lookes of her father, nor his hard threats could afright her, to make chaunge of her fancie, that no disaster fortune could driue hir to make shipwracke of her fixed affec••ion, that the blustering stormes of aduersitie might assault, but not sacke the for••e of her constant resoltuion, hee fell into this pleasing passion: Women (quoth he) whi•• as they are heauens weal••h, so they are earthes myracles, ••ramed by nature to despight beauty, adorned wyth the singularitie of proportion, to shrowde the excellence of all perfection, as farre exceeding men in vertues as they excell them in beauties, resembling Angells in qualities, as they are, like to gods in perfectnesse, being purer in minde than in mould, and yet made of the puritie of man: iust they are, as giuing loue her due; constant, as holding Loy••ltie more pretious than life; as hardly to be drawen from vnited affe∣ction, as the Salamanders fro the cauerns of Aetna. Tush quoth Francesco, what should I say they be women? and therefore the continents of all excellence. In this pleasant humour he passed away the time, not slacking his businesse for prouision against thursday at night; to the care of which affaires let vs leaue him and returne to Isabell, who after shee had sent her letter fell into a great dumpe, entring in∣to the consid••ration of mens inconstancie, and of the fickle∣nesse of th••ir fancies, but all these meditations did sort to no ••ffect; whereupon sitting downe, she tooke her Lute in her hand, and sung this Ode.

Isabells Ode.

Sitting by a riuer side, Where a silent streame did glide, Banckt about with choice flowers, Such as spring from Aprill showers, When faire Iris smiling sheaws

All her riches in her dewes, Thicke leaued trees so were planted, As nor arte nor nature wanted, Bo••dring all the broke with shade, As if Venus there had made By Floraes wile a curious bowre To dally with her paramours. At this current as I gazde, Eies intrapt, mind amazde, I might see in my ken, Such a flame as fireth men, Such a fier as doth frie, With one blaze both heart and ••ie, Such a heate as d••oth proue No heate like to heate of loue. Bright she was, for twas a she That tracde hir steps towards me: On her head she ware a bay, To fence Phoebus light away: In hir face one might descrie The curious beauty of the skie, Her eies carried darts of fier, Feathred all with swift desier, Yet foorth these fierie darts did passe Pearled teares as bright as glasse, That wonder twas in her eine Fire and water should combine: If ••h'old saw did not borrow, Fier is loue, and water sorrow, Downe she sate pale and sad, No mirth in hir lookes she had, Face and eies shewd distresse, Inward sighes discourst no lesse: Head on hand might I see Elbow leaned on hir knee, Last she breathed out this saw,

Oh that loue hath no law; Loue inforceth with constraint, Loue delighteth in complaint. Who so loues hates his life: For loues pe••ce is mindes strife. Loue doth frede on beauties fare, Euerie dish saw••t with care: C••iefly women, reason why, Loue is hatcht in their eye: Thence it steppeth to the hart, There it poysonet•• euerie part: Minde and heart, eye and thought, Till sweete loue their woe•• hath wrought. Then repentant they gan crie, Oh my heart ••hat trowed mine eye. Thus she said and then she rose, Face and minde both full of woes: Flinging thence with this saw, Fie on loue that hath no law.

Hauing finished her Doe, she heard that her father was come in; and therefore leauing hir an ••••ous i••strumen••s, she fell to her labour, to confirme the olde proue••be in her fathers i••lous head, Otia si ••ollas, periere Cupidinis arcu••: but as warye as she was, yet the old goose could spi•• the gosling winke, and woulde not vp anie meanes trust her, but vsed his accustomed manner of restraint: yet, as it is impossible for the smoake to be concealed, or fire to be sup∣pressed; so Fregoso coulde by no subtill driftes so war••ly watch his ••ra••s••ormed Io, but she found a M••rcurie to re∣lease her. For vpon the thurs••ay lying in her bed with lit∣tle intent to sléepe, she offered manie sighes to Venus that she would be ••••atresse to Morpheus that some dead slum∣ber might possesse all the house; which fel out accordin••ly, so that at midnight she rose vp & finding her apparell shut vp, she was faine to goe without hose, onely in her ••mocke

and her peticoate with her fathers hat and an olde cloake. Thus attired like Diana in her night géete, shee marcheth downe softly, where she found Francesco readie with a pri∣uate and familiar frend of his to watch her comming forth, who casting his eye aside, & séeing one in a hat and a cloake, suspecting some treacherie drew his sword, at which Isabel smiling she incountred him thus.

Gentle sir, if you be as valiant as you séeme cholaricke, or as martiall as you would be thought hardie; set not vp∣on a weaponlesse woman, least in thinking to triumph in so meane a conquest, you be preiudicte with the taint of co∣wardise. Twas neuer yet read, that warlicke Mars drew his fawchion against louely Venus•• were her offence neuer great, or his choller neuer so much. Therefore Gentleman if you be the man I take you, Isabels Francesco, leaue off your armes and fall to amours, and let your parlée in them be as short, as the night is silent, and the time dangerous. Francesco séeing it was the Paramour of his affections, let fall his sword, and caught her in his armes, readie to fall in a swound by a sodaine extasie of ioy: at last recoue∣ring his senses, he encountred her thus.

Faire Isabel, Natures ouermatch in beautie, as you are Dianas superior in vertue: at the sight of this atti••e, I dre•• my sword, as fearing some priuie foe; but as soone as the view of your perfection glaunced as an obiect to mine eye, I let fal mine armes, trembling as Acteon did, that he had dared too farre in gazing against so gorgeous a Goddesse: yet readie in the defence of your sweet selfe, and rather than I would loose so rich a prize, not onely to take vp my wea∣pons, but to incoūter hand to hand with the stoutest cham∣pion in the world. Sir (quoth she) these protestations are now bootlesse: and therefore to bee briefe, thus (and with that the teares trickled downe the vermilion of her chéeks, and she blubbred out this passion) O Francesco, thou maist sée by my attire the depth of my fancie, and in these homely roabes maist thou noate the rechlesnesse of my fortunes,

that for thy loue haue straind a note too high in loue. I of∣fend nature as repugnant to my father, whose displeasure I haue purchast to please thée; I haue giuen a finall fare∣well to my friends, to be thy familiar; I haue lost all hope of preferment, to confirme the simpathie of both our de∣sires: Ah Francesco, see I come thus poore in apparell, to make th••e rich in content. Now if hereafter (oh let me sigh at that, least I be forced to repent too late) when thy eye is glutted with my beautie, and thy hotte loue prooued soone tolde, thou beginst to hate hir that thus loueth thee, and p••oue as Demophon did to Phillis, or as Aeneas did to Dido: what then maye I doo reiected, but accurse mi••e ••wne folly, that hath brought mee to such hard fortunes. Giue me leaue Francesco, to feare what may fall: for men are as inconstant in performance, as cunning in practises. She could not fully discourse what she was ••bo••t to vtter; but he broke off with this protestation. Ah Isabel, although the windes of Lepanthos are euer inconstant, the Chris••••oll euer brittle, the Polype euer changeable; yet measure not my minde by others motions, nor the depth of my affection by the fléeting of others fancies: for as there is a Topace that will yéeld to euerie stamp, so there is an Emerald that will yéeld to no impression. The selfe same Troy, as it had an Aeneas that was fickle, so it had a Troylus th••t was constant. Greece had a Piramus, as it had a Demophon; and though some haue béen ingrateful, yet accuse not al to be vnthankful: for when Francesco shall let his eye slip frō thy beautie, or his thoughts from thy qualities, or his heart from thy vertues, or his whole selfe from euer honouring thée: then shal heauen cease to haue starres, the earth trées, the world Clements, and euerie thing reuersed shall fall to their former Chaos.

Why then (quoth Isabel) to hors••backe, for feare the faith of two such Louers be impeached by my fathers wakefull iealouzie. And with that (poore woman) halfe naked as she was, she mounted, and as fast as horse would

pace away they post towards a towne in the said Countrey of Britaine called Dunecastrum. Where let vs leaue them in their false gallop, and returne to old Fregoso, who rising early in the morning, and missing his Daughter, asked for her through the whole house, but séeing none could disco∣uer where she was, as a••sured of her escape, he cried out as a man halfe Lunaticke, that he was by Francesco robde of his onely iewell. Whereupon in a despayring furie he cau∣sed all his men and his tenaunts to mount them, and to dis∣perse themselues euerie one with hue and crie for the reco∣uerie of his daughter, he himself being horst, and riding the readie way to Dunecastrum. Where hee no sooner came, but fortune meaning to dally with the olde doteard, and to present him a boane to gnaw on, brought it so to passe that as he came riding downe the towne, he met Francesco and his daughter comming from the Church, which although it piercte him to the quicke, and strainde euerie s••ring of his heart to the highest noate of sorrow, yet he concealed it till he tooke his Inne; and then stumbling as fast as he could to the Mayors houle of the towne, he reuealed vnto him the whole cause of his distresse, requiring his fauour for the clapping vp of this vnruly Gentleman, and to make the matter the more hamous, hee accused him of felonie, that he had not onely contrarie to the custome bereft him of his daughter against his wil, but with his daughter had taken away certaine pla••e. This euidence caused the Mayor straight garded with his Officers to march downe with Fregoso to the place where Isabel and her Francesco were at breakfast, little thinking poore soules such a sharp storme should follow so quiet a calme: but fortune would haue it so. And therefore as they were carrowsing each to other in a swéete frolicke of hoped for content, the Mayor rusht in, and apprehended him of felonie; which draue the poore per∣plexed louers into such a dumpe, that they s••ood as the pict∣ures that Perseus with his shield turnde into stones. Fran∣cesco presently with a sharpe insight entred into the cause,

and perceiued it was the drift of the olde foxe his father in lawe: wherefore he tooke it with the more patience. But Isabel séeing her new husband so handled, fell in a swownd for sorrow, which could not preuaile with the Serieants, but they conueyed him to prison, and her to the Mayors house. As soone as this was done, Fregoso as a man care∣lesse what should become of them in a straunge Countrey, tooke horse and rode home, hee past melancholy, and these remained sorrowfull, especially Isabel: who after shee had almost blubbred out her eyes for griefe, fell at length into this passion.

Infortunate Isabel, and therefore infortunate because thy sorrowes are more than thy yeares, and thy distresse too heauie for the prime of thy youth. Are the heauens so vn∣iust, the starres so dismal, the planets so iniurious, that they haue more contrarie oppositions than fauourable aspects? that their influence doth infuse more preiudice than they cā inferre profite? Then no doubt if their motions be so ma∣ligne, Saturne conspiring with all his balefull signes, calcu∣lated the hower of thy birth full of disaster accidents. Ah I∣sabel, thou maist sée the birds that are hatched in Winter, are nipt with euerie storme; such as flie against the Sunne are either scorched or blinded; & those that repugne again nature, are euer crost by fortune. Thy father foresaw these euills, and warned thée by experience; thou reiectedst his counsaile, and therefore art bitten with repentaunce: such as looke not before they leape, ofte fall into the ditch; and they that scorne their parents, cannot auoyd punishment. The yong Tygers followe the braying of their olde sire, the tender Fawnes choose their foode by the olde Bucke: These brute beasts and without reason stray not from the limits of nature; thou a woman and endued with reason, art therefore thus sorrowfull, because thou hast been vnna∣turall.

Whether now Isabel? What, like the shrubbes of In∣dia parched with euerie storme? Wilt thou resemble the

brookes of Caruia, that drie vp with euerie Sunne-shine? Shall one blast of Fortune blemish all thy affection? one frown of thy father infringe thy loue toward thy husband? Wilt thou bee so inconstant at the first, that hast promised to bee loyal euer? If thou béest daunted on thy marriage day, thou wilt be fléeting hereafter. Didst thou not choose him for his vertues, and now wilt thou refuse him for hi•• hard fortunes? Is hee not thy husband? yes: and there∣fore more déere to thée than is thy Father. I Isabel, and vpon that resolue, least hauing so faithfull a Troilus, thou prooue as hatefull a Cressyda: sorrowe Isabel, but not that thou hast followed Francesco: but that Francesco by thée is fallen into such misfortunes: séeke to mitigate his mala∣dies by thy patience, not to incense his griefe with thy pas∣sions: courage is knowen in extremities, womanhood i•• distresse: and as the Chrisolite is prooued in the fire, the di∣amond by the anuill; so loue is tried, not by the fauour of Fortune, but by the aduersitie of Time. Therefore Isabel, Feras, non culpes, quòd vitari non po••es, and with Tully re∣solue thus:

Puto rerum humanarum nihil esse firmum: Ita nee in prosperis la••itia gost••s, nec in aduersis dolore concides.

With this she held he•• peace and rested, silent, so behauing her selfe in the Mayors house with such modestie and pati∣ence, that as they held her for a paragon of beautie, so they counted he•• for a spectacle of vertue: thinking her outward proportion was farre inferiour to her inward perfection: so that generally she wan the hearts of the whole house, in that they pitied her case, and wished her libertie. Insomuch that Francesco was the better vsed for hir sake: who being imprisoned, gréeued not at his owne sinister mishap, but so∣rowed for the fortune of Isabel, passing both day and night with manie extreame passions, to thinke on the distresse of his beloued paramour. Fortune who had wrought this tragedie, intending to shewe that her frunt is as full of fa∣uours

as of frown••s; and that shee holdes a dimple in her chéeke, as she hath a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in her brow, began thus in a Comicall vaine to bee pleasant. After manie daies were passed, and that the Mayor had e••••red into the good deme∣nor o•• them b••th, noting that it procéeded rather of ••he ••is∣pleasure of her father, than for anie special ••••sart of felonie, seeing youth would haue his swinge, and that as the mine∣ralls of Aetna stooue fire, as the leaues in Parthia burne with the Sunne; so yong yeares are incident to the heate of loue, and affection will burst into such amorous parties. He, not as Chremes in Ter••nce, measuring the flames of youth by his dead cinders, but thinking of their present for∣tunes by the follies of his former age, called a Conuenticle of his Brethren, and séeing ther was none to giue any fur∣ther euidence, thought to let Francesco lose. Hauing their fr••e consent, the next day, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Isabel with him, hee went to the Iayle, where they heard such rare 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of the be∣hauiour of Francesco, that they sorrowed not so much at his fortunes, as ••hey wondred at his ••ertues: for the Iay∣ler discourst vnto them, how as he was greatly passionate, so he vsed great patience, hauing this v••••s oft in his mouth

Fortiter ille f••cit, ••q••i miser esse po••est.

That he was affable and courteous, winning al, and offen∣ding none, that all his house as they greeu••d at his impri∣sonment, would be sor••ie at his enlargement; not for enuie of his person, but for sorrowe of his absence. The Iaylour thus commending the Gentleman, conducted them to the chamberdoore where Francesco lay, whom they found in secret meditation with himselfe: therefore they stayed, and were silent auditors to his passions. The first word they heard him breath out with a sigh was this,

Soasrir me plaist, cur l'espoir me conforte.

And with that taking a Citterne in his hand, saying this note

Pour paruenir l'endure.

He warbled out this Ode.

Francescos Ode.

WH••n I looke about the place Where sorrow nurseth vp disgrac••, Wrap•• within a folde of cares, Whose distresse no heart spares: Eyes might looke, but see no light, Heart might thinke but on despight, Sonne did shine, but not on me: Sorrow said it may not be, That heart or eye should once possesse Anie salue to cure distresse: For men in prison must suppose Their couches are the beds of woes. Seeing this I sighed then, For••une thus should pu••ish men. But when I calde to ••••nd•• her face For whose loue I brooke this place, St••rrie eyes whereat my sigh••, Did eclipse with much delight, Eyes that lighten and doo shine, Bea••es of loue that are diuine, Lilly cheekes whereon beside Buds of roses shew their pride, Cherrie lips which did speake Words that made all hearts to break••; Words most sweete, for breath was sweete, Such perfume for loue is meete. Precious words, as hard to tell Which more pleased wit or smell. When I saw my greatest paines Grow for hir that beautie staines. Fortune thus I did reproue, Nothing grieuefull growes from loue.

Hauing thus chanted ouer his Ode, he heard the cham∣ber doore open; whereupon he grew melanchol••e, but when he saw the goddesse of his affection, on whose constant loy∣alty depended, the essence of his happines, he started vp as when loue-sicke Mars saw Venus entring his pauilion in triumph, entertaining them all generally with such aff••bi∣litie, & her particularly with such courtesie, that he shewed himselfe as ful of nurture as of nature. Interchange of in∣tertainment thus past betwéene these two louers, as well with emphasis of words as extasie of mindes, concluding with streams of patheticall teares. The Mayor at la•••• en∣tred parlee, & told Francesco, though his father in law had alledged felony against him, yet because he perceiued that it rather procéeded of some secret reuēge, than any manifest trueth, and that no further euidence came to censure the allegation, he was content to set him at libertie, conditio∣nally, Francesco should giue his hand to be answerable to what hereafter in that behalfe might be obiected against him. These conditions accepted, Francesco was set ••t libertie, and he and Isabell, ioyntly together taking ••hem∣selues to a little cottage, began to be as Cy••eronicall as they were amorous; with their hands thrift coueting to satisf••e their hearts thirst, and to be as diligent in labours, as they were affectionate in loues: so that the parish wher∣in they liued, so affected them for the course of their life, that they were counted the very myrrours of a D••mocra∣ticall methode: for hee being a Scholler, and ••urst vp in the Uniuersities, resolued rather to ••iue by his wit, than any way to be pinched with want, thinking this olde sen∣tence to be true, that wishers and woulders were neuer good housholders, therefore he applied himselfe to teach∣ing of a Schoole, where, by his i••dustry he had, not on••lie great fauour, but gote wealth to withstand fortune. Isa∣bel, that she might séeme no le••se profitable than her hus∣band careful, fel to her needle, and wi••h her worke ••ought to preuent the iniu••ie of necessitie. Thus they laboured to

mainetaine their loues, being as busie as b••es, and as true as Turtles, as desirous to satisfie the worlde with their desert, as to feede the humours of their owne desires. Liuing thus in a league of vnited ver••ues, out of this mu∣tuall concorde of confirmed perfection, they had a sonne answerable to their o••••e proportion, which did increase their amitie, so as the ••ight of their young infant was a double ratifying of their affection. Fortune and Loue thus ioyning in league to make these parties to forget the stormes that had nipped the blossomes of their former yeers, addicted to the content of their loues this conclusion of blisse. After the tearme of fiue yeares Seigneur Fre∣goso hearing by sundry reports the fame of their forward∣nesse, howe Francesco co••••ted to be most louing to his daughter, and she most dutifull to him, and both striue to excéede one an other in loyalty, glad at this mutuall a∣gréement hee fell from the fury of his former melancholie passions, and satisfied him selfe with a contented pati∣ence, that at l••st he directed letters to his sonne in lawe, that he should make repayre to his house with his daugh∣ter. Which newes was no s••••ner come to the eares of this married couple; but prouiding for all things necessa∣ry for the furniture of their voyage they pos••ed as fast as they coulde towardes Caerbrancke, where speedily arri∣uing at their fathers house they found such friendly inter∣tainement at the olde mans hand, that they counted this smile of Fortune able to counteruaile all the contrarie stormes, that the aduerse planets had inflicted vpon them. Seated thus, as they thought, so surely, as no sinister chaunce, or dismall influence might remoue. She that is constant in nothing but inconstancie, beganne in faire skie to produce a tempest thus.

It so chanced that Francesco had necessarie businesse to dispatch certaine his vrgent affaires at the chiefe city of that Iland called Troyno••ant; thither wi••h l••aue of his father, and farewell to his wife, the departed after they

were married seuen yeeres: where after he was arriued, knowing that he should make hi•• abode there, for the space of some nine weeks he solde his horse and hired him a cham∣ber, earnestlie endeuouring to make spéedie dispatch of his affaires, that he might the sooner enioy the sight of his desired Isabel: for did he sée any woman beautiful, hee viewed her with a sigh, thinking howe farre his wife did surpasse her in excellence: were the modesty of any wo∣man well noted by her qualities it gréeued him, hee was not at home with his Isabel, who did excell them all in vertues.

Thus hee construed all to her perfection, hauing no vacant time, neither day nor night ••herein he did not ru∣minate on the perfection of his Isabell. As thus his thoughts were diuided on his businesse, and on his wife, looking one day out at his Chamber windowe hee espied a young Gentlewoman which looked out at a casement right opposite against his prospect, who fixed her eies vp∣on him with such cunning and artificiall gla••••ces, as she shewed in them a chaste disdaine, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 yet a ••odest desire. Where (by the way Gentlemen) let me say this much, that our curtiza••s of Troyn••••••n•• are far ••uperiour in artifici∣all allurement to them of all the worl••, for al••hough they haue not the painting of It••lie, nor the charms of France, nor the iewelles of Spaine, yet they haue in their eies ada∣mants that wil drawe youth 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the I••t the s••ra••e, or the sight of the Panther the 〈…〉〈…〉 looks are like lu••es that will reclaime, and like Cy••••es apparition••, that can represent in them all motions: they containe modesty, mirth, chastity, wantonnes, and what not, and she that hol∣deth in her eie most ciuility, hath oft in hir heart most disho∣nestie, bring like the pyrie stone, that is, fier wit••out and frost within. Such a one was this mery minion, whose ho∣n••stie was as choice as Venus chastitie, being as faire as Helena and as faithlesse, as wel featured as Cressida

and as craftie; hauing an eie for ••uery passenger, a sigh for euerie louer, a smile for euery one that vailde his bonnet: and because shee loued the game well, a quiuer for euerie woodmans arrowe. This courtisan seeing this countr••y Francesco was no other but a meere nouice, & that so new∣ly, that to vse the old prouerb, he had scarce séent the lions. She thought to intrap him and so arrest him with her a∣morous glances that shee would wring him by the pursse: wherevpon euery day she would out at hir casement stand, and there discouer her beauties. Francesco, who was like the Flie that delighted in the flame, and coueted to feed his eie on this b••auteous Courtisan tilted at her with inter∣change of glaunces, and on a day to trie the finesse of his wit, with a poeticall fury, began thus to make a Canzone.

Canzone.

As then the Sun sate lordly in his pride, Not shadowed with the vale of any cloude: The Welkin had no racke that seemd to glide, No duski•• vapour did bright Phoebus shroude: No blemish did eclipse the beau••eou•• skie From setting foorth heauens secret searching eie. No blustring winde did shake the shadie trees, Each leafe lay still and silent in the wood, The birds were musicall, the labouring Bees That in the sommer heap•••• their winters good, Plied to their hiues sweete hony from those flowers, Whereout the serpent strengthens all his powers. The lion laid and stretcht him in the lawnes, No storme did hold the Leopard fro his pray, The fallow fields were full of wanton fawnes, The plough-swaines neuer saw a fairer day, For euery beast and bird did take delight To see the quiet heauens to shine so bright.

When thus the windes lay sleeping in the caue••, The ayre was silent in her concaue sphere, And Neptune with a calme did please his slaues, Ready to wash the neuer d••enched Beare: Then did the change of my affects begin, And wanton loue assaid to snare me in, Leaning my backe against a lof••ie pine, Whose top did checke the pride of all the aire, Fixing my thoughts, and with my thoughts mine eine Vpon the sunne, the fairest of all faire: What thing made God so faire as this, quoth I? And thus I musde vntill I darkt mine eie. Finding the sunne too glorious for my sight, I glaunst my looke to shun so bright a lamp••, With that appeare an obiect twice as bright, So gorgeous as my senses all were damp••. In Ida richer beautie did not win When louely Venus shewd her siluer skin. Her pace was like to Iunoes pompous straines, When as she sweeps through heuens brasse paued way, Hir front was powdred through with azurde vaines, That twixt sweet Roses and faire lillies lay, Reflecting such a mixture from her face, As tainted Venus beautie with disgrace. Artophilex the brightest of the stars Was not so orient as her christall eies, Wherein triumphant sat both peace and wars, From out whose arches such sweete fauours flies, As might reclai•••• Mars in his highest rage, At beauties charge his fury to assuage. The diamond gleames not more reflecting lights Painted with fiery pyramides to shine, Than are those flames that burn••sh in our sights, Darting fire out the christall of her eine, Able to set Narcissus thoughts on fier Although he sw••re him foe to swe••te desi••r.

Gasing vpon this lemman with mine eie, I felt my sight vail•• bonnet to her lookes, So deepe a passion to my heart did flie, As I was trap•• within her luring lookes, F••rst to confesse before that I had done, Her beauty farre more brighter than the Sunne.

Francesco hauing thus in a poeticall humour pleased his fancie, when his leisure serued him woulde to make proofe of his constancie interchange amorous gl••unces with this faire curtisan, whose name was Infida, thinking his inward affections were so surely grounded on the ver∣tues of his Isabel, that no exterior proportion could effect any passion to the contrary: but at last he found by experi∣ence, that the fairest blossomes, are soonest nipt with frost, the best fruite s••onest touched with Caterpillers, and the ripest wittes most apt to be ouerthrowen by loue. Infida taught him with her lookes to learne this, that the ••ie of the Basiliske pierceth with preiudice; that the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of Ce∣lidonie is swéete, but it fretteth deadly; that Cyrces cuppes were too strong for all antidotes, and womens flatteries too forceable to resist at voluntarie: for shee so snared him in the fauours of her face, that his eie beganne to censure partially of her perfection, insomuch, that he thought her second to Isabel, if not superiour. Dallying thus wyth beautie as the flie in the flame: Venus willing to shewe how forceable her influence was, so tempred with opportu∣nitie, that as Francesco walked abroad to take the ayre, he met with Infida gadding abroad with certaine hir com∣panions, who like blazing starres shewed the ma••kes of inconstant minions; for she no sooner drew neere Frances∣co, but dying her face with a Uermillion blush, and in a wanton ••ie hiding afained modesty, shee saluted him with a lowe courtesie. Seigneur Francesco that coulde well skill to court all kinde of degrees, least he might then be

thought to haue little manners, returned, not onely her courtesies with his bonnet, but taking Infida by the hand beganne thus. Faire mistresse, and if mine eie be not deceiued in so bright an obiect, mine ouerthwart neigh∣bour: hauing often seene with delight, and coueted with desire to be acquainted with your sweete selfe; I can not now but gratulate fortune with many thankes that hath offered such fit opportunitie to bring me to your presence, hoping I shall finde you so friendly, as to craue that wee may be more familiar. She that knewe howe to enter∣taine such a young nouice made him this cunning replie. Indeede sir, neighborhoode crau••s charitie, and such affable Gentlemen as your selfe deserues rather to be en∣tertained with courtesi•• than reiected with disdaine. Ther∣fore sir, what priuate friendship mine honour or honestie may affoord you aboue all (that hitherto I haue knowne) shall commaund. Then Mist••rs (quoth hee) for that e∣uery man counts it credite to haue a pa••ronesse of his for∣tun••s, and I am a meere straunger in this Citie: let mee finde such fauour, that all my actions may be shrowded vnder your excellence, and carrie the name of your ser∣uant, ready for requitall of such gr••••ious countenaunce to vnsheath my sworde in the ••efence of my patronesse for euer. She that had her humour ••itted with this motion, answered thus, with a l••••ke that had beene able to haue forced Troylus to haue beene tr••thlesse to his Cressida: How kindly I take it Seigneur Francesco, for so I vn∣derstand your name, that you pr••••fer your seruice to so meane a Mistresse, the effectuall fa••••urs that shall to my poore abilitie gratifie your curtesie, shall manifest how I accompt of such a friend. Therfore from henceforth Infida intertai••s Francesco for her seruant: & I (quoth he) accept of the beauteous Infida as my Mistresse. Upon this they fell into other amorous pr••ttle which I leane off, and wal∣ked abroad while it was dinner time. Frācesco stil hauing

his eie vpon his new mistresse, whose bea••ties he thought, if they were equally tempered with vertues, to exce••de all that yet his eie had made suruey of. Doating thus on this newe face with a new fancie, hee often wroong her by the hand, and brake o••f his sentences, with such deepe sighes, that she perceiued by the Weather-cocke where the winde blewe: returning such amorous passions, as she seemed as much intangled, as he was enamoured. Well, thinking now that she had bayted her hooke, shee woulde not cease while she had fully caught the fish, she beganne thus to lay the traine. When they were come neere to the City gates, she stayed on a sodaine, & strayning him hard by the hand, and glauncing a looke from her eies, as if she would both shew fauour, and craue affection, she began thus smilinglie to assault him.

Seruant, the Lawyers say the assumpsit is neuer good, where the partie giues not somewhat in consideration; that seruice is voide, where it is not made fast by some fée. Least therefore your eie should make your minde uariable as mens thoughts follow their sights, and their lookes wa∣uer at the excellence of new obi••c••s, and so I loose such a seruant: to tie you to y^t stak•• with an earnest, you shall this day be my guest at dinner. Then if heereafter you forget your mistresse, I shal appeale at the barre of Loyaltie, and so condemne you of lightnes. Francesco that was tied by the ei••s, & had his har•• on his halfpeny, could not deny her•• but with many thāks accepted of hir motion, so that agréed they went all to Infidaes house to dinner; where they had such cheere as could vpon the sodaine be prouided. Infida giuing him such friendly & familiar intertainement at his repast, aswel with swéet prattle, as with amorous glances, that he rested captiue within the laborinth of hir flatteries. After dinner was done, that she might tie him from start∣ing, she thought to set all her wits vpon Ela. Therfore she tooke a Lute in her hand, and in an angelicall harmonie warbled out this conceited dittie.

Infidas song.

SWeet Adon' darst not glaunce thine eye N'oseres vous, mon bel amy, Vpon thy Venus that must die, Ie vous en prie, pitie me: N'oseres vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oseres vous, mon bel amy.

See how sad thy Venu•• lies, N'oseres vous, mon bel ••••y, Loue in heart and teares in eyes, Ie vous en prie, pitie me: N'oseres vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oseres vou••, mon bel amy.

Thy face as faire as Paphos brookes, N'oseres vous, mon bel amy, Wherein fancie baites her hookes, Ie vous ••n prie, pitie me: N'oseres vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oseres vous, mon bel amy••

Thy cheekes like cherries that doo growe N'oseres vous, mon bel amy, Amongst the Westerne mounts of snowe, Ie vous en prie, pitie me: N'oseres vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oseres vous mon bel amy.

Thy lips vermilion, full of loue, N'oseres vous, mon bel amy, Thy necke as siluer, white as doue, Ie vous en prie, pitie me: N'oseres vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oseres vous, mon bel amy.

Thine eyes like flames of holie fires, N'oseres vous, mon bel amy, Burnes all my thoughts with sweete desires, Ie vous en prie, pitie me: N'oseres vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oseres vous, mon bel amy.

All thy beauties sting my hart, N'oseres vous, mon bel amy, I must die through Cupids dart, Ie vous en prie, pitie me: N'oseres vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oseres vous mon bel amy.

Wilt thou let thy Venus die, N'oseres vous, mon bel amy, Adon were vnkinde say I, Ie vous en prie, pitie me: N'oseres vous, mon bel, mon bel, N••oseres vous, mon bel amy.

To let faire Venus die for woe, N'oseres vous, mon bel amy, That doth loue sweete Adon so, Ie vous en prie, pitie me: N'oseres vous, mon bel, mon bel, N'oseres vous, mon bel amy.

While thus Infida sung her song, Francesco sate, as if with Orpheus melodie he had béen inchaunted, hauing his eyes fixed on her face, and his eares attendant on her Mu∣sicke, so that he yéelded to that Syren which after forst him to a fatal shipwrack: Infida laying away her lute after fell to other prattle. But because it grew late in the afternoone, Francesco that was called away by his vrgent affairs, t••••ke his leaue: whereat Infida séemed verie melancholy, which

made our yong scholler half mad yet with a solemp••e con∣ge departing he went about his busines: whereas our cun∣ning Curtizan, séeing her nouice gone, began to smile, and said to her companions, that shee had made a good market that had caught such •• tame foole. Alas poore yong Gentle∣man (quoth she) he is like to the leaues in Aegipt, that as they spring without raine, so they burne at the sight of the fire: or to the swallowes, that thinke euerie Sunne shyne a Summers daye. Hee was neuer long wayter in Venus Court, that counts euerie smile a fauour, and euerie laugh to be true loue: but tis no matter, he hath store of pence, & I will sell him manie passions, vntill I leaue him as emp∣tie of coyne, as my selfe is void of fancie. And thus leauing hir i••••••ing at her new intertained seruant, againe to Fran∣cesco, who after he had made dispatch of his businesse, got him home to his lodging: where sitting solitarie in his chamber, he began to call to remembrance the perfections of his new Mistresse, the excellent proportion of her Phis∣nomie, her stature, voyce, gesture, vertues (as he thought) ruminating vpon euerie part with a plaudite. At last, as he was in this pleasing suppose, he remembred his swéete I∣sabel, whose beautie and vertue was once so precious, that betwéen his old loue, and his new fancie, he fell into these passions. Ah Francesco, whether art thou caried with new conceits? shal thy fruites be more subiects to the Northern blasts, than thy blossomes? shal thy middle age be more ful of folly, than thy tender yeres? wilt thou loue in thy youth, and lust when thy dayes are halfe spent? Men say, that the Cedar, the elder it is, the straighter it growes; that Nar∣cissus flowers the higher they spring, the more glorious is their hiew: and so shoulde Gentlemen as they excéede in yeres excell in vertues: but thou Francesco are like to the Halciones, which being hatcht white as milke, grow to be as blacke as Ieat?; the yong storkes haue a musical voyce, ••ut the old a fearfull sound. When thou wert of small age men honored thée for thy qualities, & now in yeares, shall

they hate thée for thy vices. But to what ende tendes this large preamble to checke thy fondnesse, that must leaue to loue, and learne to lust? What leaue to loue Isabel, whose beautie is deuine, whose vertues rare, whose chastitie loy∣all, whose constancie vntainted? And for whom? for the loue of some vnknowen Curtizan. Consider this Frances∣co, Isabel for thy sake hath left her parents, forsaken her friends, reiected the world, and was content rather to brook pouertie with thée, than possesse wealth with her father. Is shee not faire to content thine eye, vertuous to allure thy minde? nay, is she not thy wife, to whom thou art bound by lawe, loue, and conscience: and yet wilt thou start from her? what frō Isabel? Didst thou not vowe that the hea∣uens should be without lampes, the earth without ••eas••s, the world without Elements, before Isabel should be forsa∣ken of her Francesco? And wilt thou prooue as f••lse as she is faithfull? Shall she like Dido crie out against Aeneas? like Phillis against Demophon? like Ariadne against Theseus? and thou be canonized in the Chronicles, for a man full of periurie. Oh consider Francesco whome thou shalt lose if thou losest Isabel, and what thou shalt gaine, if thou winnest Infida: the one being a louing wife, the other a flattring Courtisan. Hast thou read Aristotle, and find∣est thou not in his Philosophie, this sentence set downe.

Omne animal irrationale ad sui similem diligendum natura dirigitur.

And wilt thou that art a creature indued with reason as thou art, excelling them in wisedome, excéede them in vani∣ties? Hast thou turnd ouer the liberall sciences as a schol∣er, and amongst them all hast not found this general prin∣ciple, that vnitie is the essence of amitie, and yet wilt thou make a diuision in the greatest simpathie of all loues. Nay Francesco, art thou a Christian, and hast tasted of the swé••t fruites of Theologie, and hast not read this in holy writ••, pend downe by that miracle of wisedome Salomon, th•••• he which is wise should reiect the strange woman, and not

regard not the sw••etnesse of hir fl••ttrie:

Desire not the beautie of a strange woman in thy heart, nor be not intrapped in her eye liddes:

For through a whorish woman, a m••n is brought to a morsell of bread, and a woman will hunt for the pre∣cious life of a man.

Can a man take fire in his bosome, & not be burnt? Or can a man tread vpon coales, and not be scorched?

So he that goeth to his neighbors wife, shall not be inno∣cent whosoeuer toucheth her.

Men do not despise a theefe when hee stealeth to satisfie his soule: but if he be found he shall restore seuen folde or giue all the substaunce of his house.

But he that committeth adultrie with a woman, he is destitute of vnderstanding: hee that dooth it, de∣stroyeth his owne soule.

He shall finde a wound and dishooour, and his reproach shall neuer be put away.

If then Francesco, Theologie tells thée such axiomes, wilt thou striue against the streame? and with the déere féede against the winde? Wilt thou swallow vp sinne with gréedines, that thou maist be punished without repentance? No Francesco, home to the wife of thy youth, and drinke the pleasaunt waters of thine owne well. And what of all these friuolous circumstances? Wilt thou measure euerie action with philosophie, or euerie thought with Diuinitie? Then shalt thou liue in the world, as a man hated in the world. What Francesco, hee that is afraid of euerie bush, shal neuer proue good huntsman, and he that at euerie gu••t puts to the Lee shall neuer be good Nauigator. Thou art now Francesco to be a Louer, not a Diuine; to measure thy affections by Ouids principles, not by rules of Theologie: and time present wills thee to loue Infida, when thou canst not looke on Isabel, distance of place is a discharge of d••••i••, and men haue their falts, as they are ful of fancies. What the blind ••ates manie a flie, and much water runnes by the

mill that the Miller neuer knowes of; the euill that the eye s••es not the heart rues not, Castè si non cautè: Tush Francesco, Isabel hath not Lynceus eyes, to sée so farre. Therfore while thou art resident in Lōdon, enioy the beau∣tie of Infida, and when thou art at home onely content thée with Isabel: so with a small fault shalt thou fully satisfie thine own affection. Thus Francesco soothed himselfe, and did In vtram••is aurem dormire, caring little for his good, as long as he might please his newe Goddesse; and mak∣ing no exception of a wife, so he might bee accepted of his paramour. To effect therfore the desired end of his affects, he made himselfe as neate and quaint as might be, and hi∣ed him to his newe Mistresse house, to put in practise that which himselfe had purposed; whether in the afternoone a∣riuing, he vnderstood by her chamber maide that she was at home and solitarie: by her therefore hee was conducted to Infidas closet, wher he found her séeming melancholy, and thus awaked her from her dumpes.

Fair Mistres, haile to your person, quiet to your thoghts and content to your desires. At my first comming into your chāber, séeing you sit so melancholy, I thought either Di∣ana sate musing on the principles of her modestie, or Ve∣nus malecontent dumping on her amours; for the shewe of your vertues represents the one, & the excellence of your beauties discouers the other: but at last when the glister of your beautie surpassing thē both, reflected like the pride of Phoebus on my face, I perceiued it was my good Mistres, that discontented sate in her dumpes: wherefore as your bounden seruant, if either my word or sword may frée you from these passions, I am here readie in all actions howso∣euer preiudiciall, to shew the effect of my affection. Infida glad to sée her Louer in this Laborinth; wherein to binde him sure, she taking him by the hand, made this wilie aun∣swere.

Swéete seruant, how discontent soeuer I séeme, dis∣may not you; for your welcome is such as you can wish, or

the sinceritie of my heart afford: w••mens dumps growe not euer of a preiudicial mishap, but oftimes of some super∣ficiall melancholy, inforced with a frowne, and shaken off with a smile; hauing sorrow in their faces, and pleasure in their heart; resembling the leaues of the liquorice, that when they are most full of d••aw without, are then most dry within. I tell you seruant, women are wily cattle, & there∣fore haue I chosen so g••••d a heardsman as your selfe, that what our wantonnes offends, your wisedome may amend. But trust me Francesco, were I wronged by Fortune, or iniured by ••nie foe, the promise of such a Champion were sufficient to arme me with disdaine agai•••••• both: but rest sa∣tis••••ed, your presence hath banished all passi••••s: and there∣fore you may sée seruant, you are the Loadstone, by whose vertue my thoughts take all their direction. Beeing thus pleasant, she sate Francesco downe by her, & hand in hand interchanged amorous glaunces. But he that was abasht to discouer his minde, in that some sparkes of honestie still remained in his heart, sate tormented with loue and feare, prickt forward by the one to discourse his desires, kept backe by the other from vttring his affections. Thus in a quandarie, he sate like one of Medusaes cha••glings, til In∣fida séeing him in this sodaine amaze, began thus to shake him out of his passions.

Now Signor Francesco, I s••e the olde adage is not al∣wayes true, Consulenti nunqu•••• caput doluit: for you that earst alledged perswasions of mirth, are now ouergrowen with melancholy. When a extreame Storme followes a pleasant calme, then the effectes are Metaphusicall, and where such a violent dumpe of cares is sequence to such an extasie of ioyes, either I must attribute it to some apoplexy of senses, or some strange alteration of passions. Francesco the ouen dampt vp hath the greatest heate, fire supprest is most forceable, the streames stopt, either breake through or ouerflow; and sorrowes concealed as they are most passio∣nate, so they are most peremptorie.

What Francesco? spit on thy hand, and lay holde on thy hart, o••e pound of cate payes not an ounce of debt, a friend to reueale is a medcine to releeue, discouer thy griefe, and if I be not able to redresse with wealth, although what I haue, is at thy commaund, yet I will attempt with coun∣saile, either to perswade thée from p••ssi••••s, or intreat thee to patience: say Francesco, and feare not, for as I will be a friendly counseller, so I will be a faithfull co••cealer. Our young Gentleman hearing Infida apply such le••a∣tiue plaisters to his cutting corasiues, thought the patient had great hope when the phisition was so friendly, he there∣fore with a demure countenance beginning louer like his preamble with a deepe sigh courted her thus.

Faire Mistresse (quoth hee) if I faile in my speaches; thinke it is, because I faint in my passio••s, being as ti∣morous t•• offend as I am amorous to attempt, when the obiect is offered to the se••se, the sight i•• hindred, Sensibil•• sensui opposi••um, nulla fit sensatio: Mars coulde neuer play the Orator when he wr••••ng Venus by the hands: nor Tul∣li•• tell his tale when his thoughts were in Terentiaes eyes: Louers are like to the ••eba•• blossomes that open with the deawe, and sh••t with the sunne, so they in pre∣sence of their Mistresse haue their to••gues tied, and their eies open, pleading with the one, and being silent in the o∣ther, which one describeth thus.

Alter in alterius iactantes ••••mina vultus, Quarebant taciti noster vbi esset amor.

Therefore, sweete Infida, what my tongue vtters not, thinke conceited in my hart, and then thus: since first my good fortune, if thou fa••o••rest me, or my aduerse destinies, if I finde the contrary, brought me to Troyno••ant, and that these ouerdaring eies were intertained into those gor∣g••ous obiects, knowe that Cupid lying at aduantage so snared mee in thy perfections, that e••er s••••ce euery sense

hath rested imperfect. For when I marked thy face, more beaut••ous than Venus, I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 it with a sigh, and mi•••• eie p••rtrayed it with a passion, when I noted thy vertues, the•• my mind rested capti••e, when I heard thy wit, I did not onely wo••der, but I was so wr••pt in the laborinth of thine excellēce, that no ••tarre but I••fida could be the guide whereby to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my course. 〈…〉〈…〉 Mistresse, you, and ••••ne but you, 〈…〉〈…〉 of my a••••ertions, h••••∣bo••r 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in such a sweete body a 〈…〉〈…〉, but doe 〈◊〉〈◊〉 iustice, let me haue loue for 〈◊〉〈◊〉, least I complain•• my 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••ot to be equiualent to my 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and thinke my fortunes to be sharper thus my 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Thin••e Infida 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in affections, are but sleight follies; Venus hath shri••es to shadow her tr••••ants, and Cupids wings are shelters for such as ••••••ter farre to content their thoughts. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 vn∣séene, are ••••lfe pardoned; and Law requires not chastitie, but that her souldi••ur•• 〈…〉〈…〉. Then thinke (〈◊〉〈◊〉 In∣fida) if thou gr••unt my desire, how carefull I will be of thy honour, rather readie to abide the preiudice of life, than to br••••ke the disparagement of thy fame: In lieu therefore of my loyall seruice, gra••••t me that swéete gift, which as it be∣gins in amitie, can no way take 〈◊〉〈◊〉 but in death: other∣wise I shall bee forced to accurse my fortunes, accuse thy frowardnes••e, and expect no oth••r 〈◊〉〈◊〉, but a life full of mi∣series, or a death full of martyrdome. With this passion ending his plea, he dissolued into such ••••ghes, that it disco∣••ered his inward affection ••o•• to be lesse th•••• his outward protestation. Infida noting the perplexitie of her Louer, conceited his griefe with great ioy: yet that she might not be thought t••o forward, she séemed thus froward; and al∣though her thoughts were more than his desires, and that her mind was no lesse than his motion, yet pulling her hand from his, she made this frow••ing replie.

What Francesco, when the Tygre hunteth for his pray, doth he then hide his clawes? Is the pyrit sto••e the•• most hote, when it looketh most colde? Are men so subtile,

that when they seem most holy, they are farthest from god, can they vnder the shadow of vertue couer ••he substance of vanitie, & like Ianus be double faced, to present both faith & flattery. I had thought (seruant) whē I entertained thee for thy courtesie: I should not haue had occasion to shake thée off for thy boldnes: nor ••••en I lik••e thée for thy affable s••mplicity I should ha••e ••••sliked thee for thy secret subtil∣ty: What Francesco, to de••••re such a gra••t as may, i•• thou wert wise, neither stand with thy honesty to intēd, nor with my honor to effect. Tel me Francesco, hath either my coū∣tenaunce bin so ouerc••••teous, that it mig•••• promise such small curiosity, or my looks so lasciuious that thou might∣est hope to find me sol••••ish, or my actions so wauering, or my disposition so ful of vanitie that my honor might seeme soone to be assaulted, & soon sacked. If I haue (Francesco) bin faulty in these follies, then wil I seek to amend wherin thou saiest I haue made offence; if not, but that thou thin∣kest, for that I am a woman, I am eas••e to be wonne, with promises of loue and protestations of loyaltie, thou arte (sweet seruant) in a wrong box, and sittest far beside the c••∣shion; for I passe of my honor more than life, & couet rather to haue the title of honestie, than the dignitie of a diademe•• cease then, vnlesse thou wilt surcease to haue my fauor, and content•• thee with this•• that Infida allowes of thee for loue, not for lust: & yet if she should treade her shoo awrie, would rather yeelde the spoile of her honor to h••r seruant, than to the greatest prince of the world. Francesco, though he was a nouice in these affaires, and was nipped on the head with this sharp repulse, yet he was not so to take the showre for the first storme, nor so ill a woodman to g••ue ouer the chace at y^• first default, but that he prosecuted his purpose thus. I am sory (faire goddesse of my deuotion) if my presump∣tion hath giuē any offence to my sweet mistresse, for rather than I should but procure a frown in hir forhead: I would haue a dé••p wound in my own hart, coueting rather to sup∣pres my passions with death, than to disparage my credite

with so g••••d a patronesse. Therfore although my destinies be extreame, my affection great, and my loues such as can take no end, but in your fauours, yet I rest vpon this, Infi∣da hath comma••ded me to cease, and I will not dare so much as to prosecute my sute, although euerie passion should be a purgatorie, and euery dayes de••i••ll a moneths punishment in hell: with that he set downe his period with such a sigh, that as the Marriners say, a man would haue thought all would haue split againe. This cunning Cur∣tizan beeing afraid, with this checke to haue quatted the qu••••zie stomacke of her louer, de••irous to draw to her that with both hands, which she had thrust away with her little finger, began to be pleasant with Francisco, thus.

What seru••nt, are you such a fresh water souldier, that you faint at the first skirmish? feare not man, you haue not to deale with Mars, but with Venus•• and her darts of de∣niall as they pricke sharpe, so th••y pierce little•• and her thū∣derbolts doo afright, not preiudice. Feare not man, a wo∣mans heart and her tongue are not relatiues; tis not euer true, that what the heart thinketh the tongue clacketh. Ve∣nus stormes are tempred with Rose water, and when shee hath the greatest wrinkle in her ••rowe, then shee hath the sweetest dimple in her chin: be blithe man, a faint heart ne∣uer wonn•• faire Ladie. Francesco hearing hi•• Mistresse thus pleasant, tooke oppor••••nitie by the forhead, and dea••t so with his Infida, that before hee went all was well, shee blusht not, nor he•• basht, but both made vp their market with a faire of ki••ses: which simpathie of affections, bred the poore Gentlemans ouerthrow; for he was so snared in the wily tramels of her alluring flatterie, that neither the remembrance of his Isabel, the care of his childe, the fauor of his friendes, or the feare of his discredit, coulde in anie wise hale him from that hell, whereinto through his owne follie, he was fallen.

Where, by the way (Gentlemen) let vs note the sub∣tiltie of these Syrens, that with their false harmonie per∣swade,

and then preiudice; who bewitch like Calipso,•• and inchaunt like Circes, carying a showe as if they were Ue∣stalls, and could with Amulia carrie water in a siue, when they are flat Curtizans, as farre from honestie, as they are from deuotion. At the first, they carrie a faire shew, resem∣bling Calisto, who hid hir vanities w^t Dianas vail, hauing in their lookes a coy disdaine, but in their hearts a bote de∣sire, denying with the tongue, and enticing wyth their lookes, reiecting in wordes, and alluring in gestures, and such a one (gentlemen) was Infida, who so plied Fran∣cesco with her flattering fawnes, that as the yron follows the adamant, the straw the Iet, and the Helitropion the beames of the sunne, so his actions were directed after her eie, and what she saide stoode for a principle, insomuch, that he was not onely readie in all submisse humours to please her fancies, but willing for the least worde of offence, to draw his weapon against the stoutest champion in al Troy∣nouant. Thus seated in her beauty hee liued a long while, forgetting his returne to Ca••rbrancke, till on a day sitting musing with himselfe, he fell into a déepe consideration of his former fortunes and present follies; whereupon taking his Lute in his hand he so••ng this Roundley.

Francescoes Roundeley.

Sitting and sighing in my secret muse. As once Apollo did surprisde with loue, Noting the slippery wayes young yeeres do vse What fond affects the prime of youth doth moue, With bitter teares despairing I do crie, W•• worth the faults and follies of mine eie. When wanton age the blossoms of my time Drewe me to gaze vpon the gorgeous sight That beauty pompous in her highest prime, Presents to tangle men with sweete delight,

Then with despairing tear••s ••y thoughts do cri••, W•• worth the faults and folli••s of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••i••.

When I s••r••eid the riches of her lookes, Whereout flew fl••••es of neuer quencht d••sire, Wherein lay baites, that Venus snares with ••ookes. Oh where proud Cupid s••te all armde with fire: Then toucht with loue my inw••rd soul•• did cri••, W•• worth the f••ultes and follies of mi•••• ••i••.

The milke-white Galaxia of her 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Where loue doth daunce la voltas of his ski••••, Like to the Temple where true louers vow To follow what shall please their Mistresse wi••••, Noting her i••orie front, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 do I crie, W•• worth the faul••s and follies of mi••e ••i••.

Hir face like siluer Luna in hir shin••, All tainted through with bright Vermilli•••• str••i••es, Like lillies dipt in Bacchus choicest wine, Powdred and inters••••••d with az••rde de v••ines, Delighting in their pride now may I cri•••• W•• worth the faults and folli••s of mi••e ••i••.

The golden wyers that checkers in the d••y, Inf••••••our to the ••resses of her 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Hir amber tra••ells did my heart dis••••y, That when I look••e I durst not ouer d••••••: Prowd of her pride now am I f••rst to cri••. W•• worth the faults and follies of mi••e ••i••.

These fading beauties drew me ••n to sin Natures great riches fra••de my bitter ruth, These were the trappes that loue did snare me in, Oh, these, and none but these haue wrackt my youth, Misled by them I may dispairing crie. Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.

By these I slipt from vertues holy tracke, That leades vnto the highest christall sphere, By these I fell to vanitie and wracke, And as a man forlorne with sin and feare, Despaire and sorrow doth constraine me crie, Wo worth the faults and follies of mine eie.

Although this sonnet was of his ready inuention, and that he vttered it in bitternesse of minde, yet after he had past ouer his melancholy, and from his solitarie was fal∣len into companie, he forgate this patheticall impression of vertue, and like the dogge did redire ad vomitum, and fell to his owne vomite, resembling those Gretians, that with Vlysses drinking of Cyrces drugges, lost both forme and memorie: Wel his affaires were done, his horse solde, and no other businesse now rested to hinder him from hy∣ing home, but his Mistresse which was such a violent de∣teyner of his person, and thoughts, that there is no heauen but Infidaes house, where although hee pleasantly entred in with delight, yet cowardly he slipt away with repen∣tance. Well, leauing him to his new loues, at last to I∣sabell, who daily expected the comming home of ••er best beloued Francesco, thinking euery houre a yeare, till she migh•• sée him, in whome rested all h••r coutent. But whe•• (poore soule) shee coulde neither ••éede her sight with his presence, nor her eares with his letters, she b••ganne to lower and grew so discontent, that shee fell into a feuer.

Fortune that meant to ••rie hir patience thought to pro••u•• her with these tragicall newes: It was tolde her by cer∣taine Gentlemen her friends, who were her husbands pri∣uate familiars, that he meant to soiorne most part of the yeere in Troynouant: one blunt fellowe amongest the rest that was playne and wythout falsh••••de, tolde her the whole cause of his residence, howe ••ee was in loue wyth a m••st beautifull Gentlewoman called Infida, and that so deepely, that no perswasion might reuoke him from that alluring curtizan. At this Isabell made no accompt, but tooke it as a friuolous tale, and thought the woorse of such as buzzed such fantasticall follies into h••r eares, but when the generall report of his mis••emeanours were bruted a∣broad throughout all Caerbrancke, then with blushing chéekes, she hid her head, & gre••uing at his follies, and her owne fortunes, smothered the flames of her sorrows with inward conceit, but outwardly withs••••••d such in satyricall tearmes as did inueigh against the hone••••ie of Francesco, so that she wonne great commendations of all for her loy∣altie and constancie, yet when she was gotten secret by hir selfe, hir heart full of sorrowfull passions, and her eies full of teares, she beganne to meditate with her selfe of the prime of her youth vowed to Francesco, how she fors••••ke father, fri••ndes and Countrey to bee paramour vnto her hearts paragon. The vowes hee made, when he carried her away in the night, the solempne promises and prote∣stations that were vttered. When shee had pondred all these things, then she called to minde Aeneas, Demophon and Theseus, and matcht them with Dido, Phillis and A∣riadne, and at last sighed thus: And shal it be so betwéene Isabel and Francesco? No, thinke n••t so (fond woman) let not ielousie blinde thee, whome loue hath indne•• with such a pi••rcing insight: for as there is no content to the swéetenesse of loue, so there is no despaire to the preiudice of Ielousie: whereupon to shake off all fancies, she ••ooke

her Citter•• in her hand, and soong this verse out of Ari∣osto.

Che piu felice é pui i••condo stato, Che viuer pui dolce é pui beato Sarui di seruire vno amoroso cuore, Che d'esser in seruitu d'amore, Se non fusse huomo sempr•• stimulato, Da quella rio timore, da quella frenezia, Da quella rabbia, della i••lozia.

Yet as women are constant, so they are easie to beléeue, especially trueth, and so it fell out with Isabell, for shee (poore soule) could take no rest, so was her ha••d troubled with these ••••wes, hammering a thousand humours in her braine how she might know the certaintie of his follies, and how she might reclaime him for his newe intertained affec∣tion. She considered with herself, that men allure Doues by the beauty of the house, and reclaime hawkes by the fairnesse of the lure, and that loue ioyned with vertue, were able to recall the most stragling A••neas to make sayles a∣gaine to Carthage. Tush quoth she to her selfe, suppose he be falne in Loue with a curtizan, and that beautie hath gi∣uen him the braue: what shall I vtterly condempne him? No, as he was not the first, so he shall not be the last: what youth will haue his swindge, the briar will bee full of pric∣kles, the nettle will haue his sting, and youth his amours: men must loue and will loue, though it be both against l••w and reason; a crooked sien will proue a straight tr••e, the Iu∣niper is sower when it is a twigge, and swéete when it is a trée; time changeth manners, and Francesco when hee en∣treth into the conditions of a ••••attring Curtizan, will for∣sake her, and returne penitent and more louing to his Isa∣bel.

Thus like a good wife she const•••••••• all to the best, yet she though•• to put him in minde of his returne, and there∣fore she writ him a letter to this effect.

Isabel to Francesco health.

IF Penelope long•••• for her Vlys∣ses, thinke Isabel ••••sheth for her Francesco, as loyall to thée as she was constant to the wily Greeke, and no lesse desirous to s•••• thée in Caerbranck, than she to enioy his presence in I••••••ca, watering my chéeckes with as manie teares, as she her face with plaints, yet my Francesco, hoping I haue no such cause 〈◊〉〈◊〉 she to increase hir cares: for I haue such resolution in thy constancie, that no Circes with all her inchantments, no Calipso with all her sorceries, no Syren with all their melodies could per∣uert thée from thinking on thine Isabel, I know Francesco so déeply hath the faithful promise and loyall vowes made & interchanged betwéen vs taken place in thy thoughtes, that no time how long soeuer, no di••••ance of place howso∣euer different, may alter that impression. But why 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I inferre this néedlesse insinuation to him, that no vanitie can alienate from vertue: let me Francesco persw••de th•••• with other circumstances. First my 〈◊〉〈◊〉, thinke how thine Isabel lies alone, measuring the time with sighes, & thine absence with passions; counting the day ••ismall, and the night full of sorrowes; being euerie way discontent, be∣cause shee is not content with her Francesco. The onely

comfort that I haue in thine absence is thy child, who lies on his mothers knee, and smiles as wantōly as his father when he was a wooer. But when the boy sayes: Mam, where is my dad, when will hee come home? Then the calme of my content turneth to a present storme of pier∣cing sorrowe, that I am forced sometime to say: Un∣kinde Francesco, that forgets his Isabell. I hope Fran∣cesco, it is thine affaires, not my faults that procureth this long delay. For if I knewe my follies did any way offend thée, to rest thus long absent, I woulde punish my selfe both with outward and inward penaunce. But howsoeuer, I pray for thy health, and thy speedie returne, and so Francesco farewell.

Thine more than her owne Isabell.

SHe hauing thus finished her letters con••cied them speedelie to Troynouant, where they were deliuered to Francesco, who receiuing them with a blush, went into his study, and there v••ript the seales with a sigh, perceiuing by the contents that Isabell had an inckling of his vnkinde loues, which driue him into a great quandarie, that deepely entring into the insight of his lasciuious life, hee beganne to feele a remorce in his conscience, howe grieuously hee hath offended hir, that had so faithfullie loued him. Oh, quoth hee, shall I be so ingrate as to quittance affection with fraud? So vnkinde as to weigh downe loue with discourtesie, to giue her a wéede that presents me a flower, and to beate her with nettles that perfumes me w^t roses, consider with thy selfe Francesco,

how deeply thou doost sinne: First, thou offendest thy God in choosing so wanton a goddesse; then, thou doost wrong thy wife, in preferring an incōstant curtizan before so faithfull a paramour: yet Francesco, thy haruest is in the grasse, thou maiest stoppe at the brimme, because thou hast neuer touched the bottome. What? men may fall, but to wallowe in wickednesse is a double fault. Therefore recall thy selfe, reclayme thy affections: Is not thine Isabell as faire? Oh, if shee be not, yet shee is more vertuous. Is not Isabell so wittie as Infida? Oh but shee is more constant, and then art thou so madde, to preferre drosse before Golde, a common Flint before a choice Diam••••d, vice before vertue, fading beautie be∣fore the excellence of inward qualilties: No, shake off these follies, and say, both in mouth & in hart; None like Isabell; This he s••ide by himselfe, but when he went foorth of his Chamber, and spied but his Mistresse looking out of her windowe all this geare chaungde, and the case was altered: shee calde, and in hée must, and there in a iest scofft at his Wiues Letters, taking his Infida in his armes, and saying, I will not leaue this Troy for the chastest Penelope in the world.

Thus hee soothed himselfe in the swéetenesse of his sinne, resembling the Leopardes that féede on Mario∣ran while they die, or the People Hyperborei, that sit so long and gaze against the Sunne till they become blinde; so hee doated on the perfection of Infida, till it gr••we to his vtter preiudice: for no reason coulde di∣uert him from his damned intent, so had he drowned him∣selfe in the dregges of lust: insomuch that hee conuted it no sinne to ••ffend with so ••aire a Saint: alluding to the saying of the holy Father.

Consuetudo peccandi, tollit sensum peccati.

Thus did these two con••inue in the Sympathie of their sinnes, while p••••re Isabel rested her at home content in this, that at last he would bee reclaimed, and till then shee wold vse patience, séei••g Nunquam sera est ad bonos mor•••• via. Wallowing thus in the foldes of their owne follies, Fortune that meant to experience the force of Loue, dealt thus conceiptedly; After these two Louers had by the space of thrée yeares securely slumbred in the swéetnesse of their pleasures, and drunke with the surfet of Content, thought no other heauen, but their owne suppos••d happi∣nesse; as euerie storme hath his calme, and the greatest Spring-tide the deadest ebbe, so fared it with Francesco: for so long w••nt the pot to the water, that at last it came broken home; and so long put he his hand into his pursse, that at last the emptie bottome returned him a Writt of Non est inuentus; for well might the Diuell da••ce there, for euer a crosse to keepe him backe.

Well, this Louer fuller of passions than of pence, be∣gan (when hee entred into the consideration of his owne e∣state) to mourne of the chyne, and to hang the lippe as one that for want of sounding had stroke himselfe vppon the Sands; yet he couered his inward sorrowe with outward smiles, and like Ianus present••d his Mistresse with a mer∣rie looke, when the other side of his visage was full of sor∣rowes. But she that was as good as a touchstone to trye mettalls, could straight spie by the laste where the shooe wringde him: and seeing her Francesco was almost foun∣dred, thought to see if a skilfull Farrier might mend him; if not, like an vnthankefull Hackney-man shee meant to tourne him into the bare leas, and set him as a tyrde iade to picke a sallet.

Uppon which determin••tion, that shee might doo no∣thing rashly, shee made enquirie 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his estate, what Li∣uings he had, what La••des to sell, howe they were eyther tyed by Statute, or I••tail••e? At last, thorough her secret

a••d subtill inquisition, she found that all his corne was on the floore•• that his she••pe were clipt, and the W••••ll folde; to be short, that what he had by his Wife coulde neither be solde nor morgaged, and what he had of his ••wne was spent vppon her, that nothing was lefte for him to liue vppon but his wits. This newes was such a cooling Card to this Curtizan, that the extreame heate of her loue was alreadie growen to bee luke warme: which Francesco might easely perceiue; for at his arri∣uall, his welcome was more straunge, her lookes more coy, his fare more slender, her glaunces lesse amorous: and she séemed to bee Infida in proportion, but not in wonted passions.

This vncouth disdaine made Francesco maruell, who yet had not entred into her deceiptes, nor (beeing ••••mple of himselfe) had euer yet experienst a strumpets subtiltie; he imputed therefore his Mistresses coynesse to the distemperature of her bodie, and thought that being not well, it was no wonder though shee gaue him the lesse welcome.

Thus poore Nouice did he conster euerie thing to the best, vntill Time presented him with the truth of the worst: for in short time, his hostesse calde for money, his creditors threatened him with an arrest, his cloath∣es waxt thred bare, and there was no more coyne in the Mynte to amende them. Whereupon on a day, sitting in a great dumpe by his Infida, who was as solempne as he was sorrowfull, hee burst foorth into these spea∣ches.

I haue read swéete Loue in the Aphorismes of Phi∣losophers, that heate suppressed is more violent, the streame stopt makes the greater Deluge, and passi••ns concealed, procure the déeper sorrowes. Then if Con∣trariorum Contraria est r••••io, there is nothing better than a bosome friend with whome to conferre vpon the

iniurie of fortune. Finding my selfe (my Infida) full of Pathemas as sting to the quicke, inuenymed with the Tarantula of heart sicke torments, I thinke no medi∣cine fitter for my maladie, than to be cu••ed by the musi∣call harmonie of thy friendly counsai••e. Knowe then Infida that Troynouant is a place of great expence, like the Serpent Hidaspis, that the more it suckes, the more it is a thirst, eating men aliue as the Crocodile, and be∣ing a place of as daungerous allurement, as the seate where the Syrens sit and chaunt their preiudiciall melo∣die. It is to young Gentlemen, like the Laborynth, whereout Theseus could not get without a threed, but here be such monstrous Minotaures as first deuour the thréed, and then the person. The Innes are like hote∣houses, which by little and little sweate a man into a consumption; the hoste he carries a pint of wine in the one hand to welcome, but a poniard in the other to stab; and the hostesse she hath smiles in her forhead, and pro∣uides good meate for her guests, but the sauce is costly, for it far excéeds the cates. If coyne want, then either to Limbo, or els clap vp a commoditie (if so much credite be left) where he shall finde such knots, as he will neuer be able without his vtter preiudice to vntie. Brokers, I leaue them of, as too course ware to be mouthde wit•• an honest mans tongue. These Mi••otaures faire In∣fida, haue so eaten mee vp in this Laborinth, as to bee p••aine with thee that art my second selfe, I want, and am so farre indebted to the Mercer and mine Hostesse, as either thou must stand my friend to disburse so much money for me, or els I must depart from Troyno••ant, and so from thy sight, which how precious it is to mee, I referre to thine owne conscience; or for an Vltimum vale take vp my lodging in the counter, which I know, as it would be vncouth to me, so it would bee gréeuefull to thee; and therfore now hangs my welfare in thy wil.

How loath I was to vtter vnto thee my want and sor∣rowe, measure by my loue; who wish rather death than thy discontent.

Infida could scarce suffer him in so long a Periode, and therefore with her forehead full of furrowes, shee made him this answere. And would you haue me (sir) buy an ounce of pleasure with a cunne of mishappes, or reach after repentaunce with so hie a rate: haue I lent thee the blossoms of my youth, and delighted thee with the prime of my yeares? hast thou had the spoile of my virginitie. and now wouldest thou haue the sacke of my substaunce? when thou hast withered my person, aymest thou at my wealth? No sir, no; knowe, that for the loue of thee, I haue crackt my credite, that ne∣uer before was slained. I cannot looke abroad without a blush, nor go with my neighbours without a frump, thou, and thy name is euer cast in my dish, my foes laugh, and my f••••ends sorrow to sée my follies: where∣fore seeing thou beginnest to picke a quarrell, and here∣after, when thine owne base fortunes haue brought thee to beggarie ••ilt say, that Infida cost thee ••o many Crownes, and was thine ouerthrowe: auaunt nouice, home to thine owne wife, who (poore Gentlewoman) sits and wants what thou consumest at Tauerns. Thou hast had my despoyle, and I feare I beate in my bel∣lie the token of too much loue I ought thée. Yet co••∣tent with this discredite, rather than to runne into fur∣ther extremitie: get thée out of my d••••res, for from hencefoorth thou shalt neuer be welcome to Infida. And with that shee ••••ung vp, and went into her Chamber: Francesco would haue made a replie, but shee woulde not heare him, nor holde him any more ••hat: Where∣v••on with a st••ain his eare, hee went to his lodging. There ruminating on the number of his follies, and the hardnesse of his fortunes, seeing his skore great••

his coyne little, his credite lesse: weighing how hard∣ly he had vsed his Isabell: at last leaning his head on his hand, with teares in his eies, he beganne to be thus extremely passionate. Nowe Francesco piscator ictus sapit, experience is a true mistresse, but shee maketh her Schollers treade vpon Thornes, hast thou not lea∣ped into the ditch, which thou hast long foreséene, and bought that with repentance which thou hast so gréedily desired to reape. Oh now thou seest the difference be∣tweene loue and lust: the one ful of contented pleasure, the other of pleasing miseries: thy thoughts were fea∣thered with fancie, and whether did they flie so farre that they fréeed themselues, and thou rests consume••. Oh Francesco, what are women? If they bee honest Saints, the puritie of nature, the excellence of ver∣tue, the perfection of earthly content. But if they bee curtisans and strumpe••s. Oh let mee breath before I can vtter the depth of such a monstrous description. They be in shape Angels, but in quallities Deuilles, painted Sepulchres with rotten bones, their foreheads are Kalenders of misfortunes, their eies like comets, that when they sparkle foretell some fatall disparage∣ment, they allure with amorous glaunces of lust, and kill with bitter looks of hate, they haue dimples in their cheekes to deceiue, and wrinckles in their browe•• to betray, their lippes are like honie combes, but who tasteth the droppes is impoisoned; they are as cle••re as Christall, but bruse them, and they are as infectio••s as the Diamond, their teares are like the Aconiton, that the Hidra wept; they present as Deiani••a shirts for presents, but who so puts them on, consumes like Her∣cules, they lay out the foldes of their haire, and i••tan∣gle men in their tresses, playing the horse-leach, that sucketh while they burst; betweene their breasts i•• the vale of destruction, and in their beds o•• there is sorrow,

repentance, hell & despayre. They consume man aliue, and ayme at his substance not his perfection; like ea∣gles, that onely flie thither, where the carrion is, they leade men to hell, and leaue him at the gates. To ••e briefe, they are ingrateful, peri••red, vntrue, inconstant, ••••e••ting, full of fraud, deceitfull, and to conclude in one worde, they be the very refuse of natures extrements. Oh Francesco, what a Satyricall inuectiue hast thou vttered? I may best, quoth hee, for I haue bought e∣uery principle with a pound: What nowe rests for thee poore infortunate man? Thou hast yet left a meanes to ende all these miseries, and that is this Drawe thy rapi••r and so die, that with a manly resolution thou mayest preuent thy further misfortunes. Oh although thou hast ••inned, yet despair•• not, though thou art•• ••∣nathema, yet proue not an Atheist, the mercie of God is aboue all his workes, 〈…〉〈…〉 balme. Home to thy wife, to the wife of thy youth Francesco, to Isabell, who with her patience will couer all thy follies: remember th••s man, Nunquam sera est ad bonos mores via.

Thus hee ended, and with verie griefe fell in a slum∣ber. At this the Palmer breathed, and made a stop and a long periode. His hoste desirous to heare out the ende of Francescoes fortunes, wished him to goe forwarde in his discourse. Pardon mee Sir, quoth the Palmer, the night is late, and I haue trauelled all the day; my bellie is full, and my bones would be at rest. Therefore for this time, let thus much suf∣fice, and to morrowe at our vprising, which shall be with the Sunne. I will not onelie discourse vnto you the ende of Francescoes amours, of his returne home to his wife, and his repentaunce, but manifest vnto you the reason whie I aymed my pilgrimage to Ve∣nice.

The Gentleman and his Wife verie loath to bee te∣dious to the good Palmer, were content with his pro∣mise; and so taking vp the candle lighted him to bedde•• where we leaue him. And therefore assoone as may bee Gentlemen, looke for Francescoes further fortunes, and after that my Farewell to follies, and then adieu to all a∣morous Pamphlets.

FINIS.