The second part of the Myrror of knighthood Containing two seuerall bookes, wherein is intreated the valiant deedes of armes of sundrie worthie knightes, verie delightfull to be read, and nothing hurtfull to bee regarded. Now newly translated out of Spanish into our vulgar tongue by R.P.

¶The great sorrow that the knight of the Sunne receiued in thinking of his owne disloyaltie, and that which happened vnto him. Cap. 4.

THE Knight of the Sunne with great furie and hast, wandred through the Forrests of Greece, as it hath ben alreadie declared vn∣to you, kindling the aire with fire, with that burning cholar wherin he was wrapped, vn∣happie had he bene, which at that time durst haue vndertaken to haue resisted his purpose, for while hée was in this moode, there had bene no roeke so harde, but hée would haue torne in péeces, nor no hill so stéepe, but he would haue pulled downe. In this sort he went all the daie not fin∣ding anie print of that he sought for. The darke night did ouertake him in the thickest of the Forrest, whereby he was enforced to a light and ease his horse, who fed vpon y^e gréene grasse, and he leaned himselfe vnder a high Pine trée, the place being so solitarie, it was a meane to drawe him in minde of many things which had alreadie happened vnto him, and spe∣cially it renewed the fresh assaultes of that loue which pas∣sed betweene him and the Princesse Lyndabrides musing with himselfe what should mooue him so vnkindly to forget her, and in comparing the beautie of the Princesse Lynda∣brides with his beloued wife, he found the Empresse did farre exceede her, and heerevpon the knightes good will beganne to kindle, and was inwardlye gladde of his owne choice, but this affection was soone extinguished, so firmely setteled was that good will bée bare vnto the Barbarian Ladie. The im∣pression whereof was so déepe, that hée altogether forgot the auncient loue that he had borne vnto his beloued Empresse, wherevppon with sorrowing sighes he sounded foorth his griefe, and with brinish teares hée saide.

Is there in the world

anie knight so little attainted with loue as I am, or can there, be anie one so vngratfull as I, sith that I bestow no care vpon one, so furnished with beautie, and indued with so many ex∣cellent vertues. Alasse Lyndabrydes, right worthie doo I ac∣knowledge my selfe to be chastised with loue, sith that with∣out reason I haue transgressed his boundes. As there is no∣thing in me to merit your diuine beautie, so am I altogether vnworthie (béeing a disloyall Knight) anie so vnderser∣ued curtesie, but I will promise you to execute vpon my selfe a more sharp reuenge, then laie in you to giue me, sith that I haue forfaited that bond wherein I was bound vnto you. Oh miserable knight what sayst thou in thine owne defence, how canst thou excuse thy folly? hast thou blotted out of thy mind y^t souereigne curtesie of thy Ladie? or hast thou suspended the swéet memorie of her diuine beutie, being so rare an Empres? Oh traiterous hart why hast thou yéelded to this folly? & why dost thou not now repent this passed falt, sith that loue which first enthralled thy minde, doth now without ceasing tormēt thy heart? Oh wretch that I am, what condigne punishment may I bestow vpon my selfe. O sacred Emperico, thou gauest me frée possessiō of all, without reseruing any thing, thou didst surrender to me thine Empire, & thou didst yéeld to me thy li∣bertie, and I carelesse of my faith, & neglecting thy courtesie, could not intertaine a good opinion of thee alone in my heart, according to thy desert, but haue ben preuented by the Tarta∣rian ladie, who hath made a breach in my affection. Forgiue me I beséech thée: Oh sorrow, oh intollerable griefe, no lesse sharp then death to sée my hart diuided in twaine. Is it possi∣ble y^t I can liue & sustaine these nipping passions which assalt me▪

with this the miserable knight sēt forth a scalding sigh, & by his countenance appeared to be plunged in great sorrow, insomuch y^t the ecko of his bitter passions moued y^e shiuering leaues to quietnes, & the percing aire to a certain calme stay, only to heare y^e plaints of this oppressed knight. In this hea∣uie plight, & woful cogitation y^e afflicted Grecian spent y^e wea∣rie night, vntil the glistring Sun w^t his radiant beames, did shine vpon the gréene grasse and swéete budding trées, and

moued the chirping birds with their golden layes to warble forth their sugered tunes. At that present houre the knight of the Sunne brideled his horse, and without setting his foot in the stirop he mounted vppon him, leauing the raines on his necke, to the end he might goe where best liked him, hée had not long iourneied but he was come neere vnto a riuer which ranne through the Forrest, his horse being verie drie ente∣red into it, altogether carelesse of the exceeding anguish wher∣in his Master was, whose minde was so perplexed in consi∣dering his straunge mishap, that he forgot where he was, vn∣till the bubbeling of the Christal water awaked his benum∣med sences, and then séeing himselfe in this golden streame, and gasing on euerie side he espyed the armour of the valiant Moore, which was chained for a monument vnto a Pine ap∣ple tree. The Prince staied long in viewing them, greatlye admiring at such an aduenture, and approching more néere, he might well discerne by the head péece that the armour be∣longed vnto the Moore whome he had sought with great la∣bour and paine, which sight did greatly trouble his minde. And turning his horse to sée the straungnesse of this misfor∣tune, he sawe the bloudie alter where the Moore had commit∣ted this sacrifice, & néere vnto it was annexed a goodly graue closely couched by a loftie Pine, wherin was engrauen cer∣taine vearses, which when he perused he might perceiue that they were compounded by his brother, and when he ••ad by reading of them, gathered the sorrowfull end that the valiant Moore made, he could not so well gouerne his affection, but y^t his eyes distilled gushing streames of water, greatly deplo∣ring with himselfe the froward fortune of so valiant a man, where by imbruing his hands in his owne bloud had there∣by eclipsed his former honour. Then greatly exclaiming a∣gainst the wretchednesse of this worlde, and the loosenesse of the people, he did note the solempne vowe his brother made, and therewithall did remember the fruites of his vertue, and therevpon desirous to ioyne with him in trauaile, he did in∣graue with his dagger somewhat vnder the other Epitaph, these vearses that followe.

Whose trauaile strange shall leade him to this place, to view this shield and strong Tartarians graue: That man I warne that he doo not deface the same, deuisde by Rosicle'er the braue. Whose brothers bloud the quarrell shall maintaine, Against such knights, that would this armour gaine.

When he had written this, he walked vp and downe by the graue, & by chance saw y^e dagger wherewith y^e Moore had killed himselfe, and taking it in his hand, he sayd: Truly thou hast great cause to lament, sith that thou hast bene the in∣strument to murther the best knight that euer ware armour, and in memorie héereof thou shalt staye héere, saying this, he lift vp his arme and strake the Dagger into the pine trée vp to the hiltes, and without any more tariance he tooke his horse and trauailed on through a young groue, the night being very close, till at length he repaired to one corner of the Riuer, which was all shadowed with the gréene braun∣ches of Pine apple trées, and not farre from the Riuer, hée discerned an olde ruinous house, which was verie auncient, and as it séemed no man did inhabit it, and as he made the∣therwarde, he hearde the voice of one which as he thought sang very swéetly, whervpon he rained his horse & directed his way thether. Not far distant frō a trée he saw a gréene armor engrauen with perfect gold very richly, and there was fast ti∣ed vnto a bough of y^e same, a shield of fine stéele, the field be∣ing gréene, wherein was portrayed a Mermaide, which in shape séemed to be a Goddesse of the seas. Likewise close vn∣to the shield, ther was chained a rich helmet, which was very strong. It might well be thought by the riches of the armor they appertained to some valiant man, and also it séemed the time was long since they had bene hanged there, for that the washing of the water had wasted the brightnesse of the cou∣lour. The knight of the Sunne with an earnest desire beheld them, and sawe the bodie of the Trée ingraued with this word Florisdama. And when he could by no meanes vnder∣stand

the conceit héereof he became very pensiue, and ballan∣cing to his minde the fortune that chaunced to him in the I∣land of the wilde Fairie: héerevpon he imagined this other was not much different from it. The Grecian dwellyng in this dumpe, turning his eyes he sawe that all the trées ther a••outs did carie the name of Florisdama, and in some places it was shortly written with an F. and a D. It chaunced al∣so among those trées he spied a sword fast chained, which by the dama•• king and brauerie of it, might be gessed to belong vnto some worthie Knight. These thinges procured the Knight of the Sunne to imagine, that this Knight ended his dayes desperately, through the swéete enticing baits of loue, which thing draue the Knight of the Sunne into a greater maze then he was in before, and therewithall engendred a desire in him to sée the ende of this aduenture. The stearne of his ship being thus guyded by a carefull Pilot, he retur∣ned backe to the place where he first heard the noyse of the instruments, and the farther passage he made, the shriller he might heare the sound, wherevpon he trauailed so long, that with ease he might perceiue the sorrowfull Knight touch his Lute, with a panting heart, and sometime intermedled his musicke with a swéete voyce and a pitiful dittie. The knight of the Sunne was greatly enclined to know him that be∣wayled so bitterly his mishap. And hearing him begin to sing certaine verses, hée stood still. The sorrowfull Knight of the Forrest, began in this sort.

O Direfull death! when shall the hower be so long desirde, for to dissolue my griefe: That this my corps bereaued of breath by thee, in Mistres praise my soule may finde reliefe. Oh Atrapos (in desarts where I pine, And liuing, die) doo thou my thred vntwine.

O loathed life! oh most vnhappie fate! wherein I feele such force as none maie bide.

Iniurious Dame, (which broughtst me to this state) thy cruell dealing plainly is espide: Yet thus I deeme, and so my selfe perswade, My mone, no mirth vnto thy hart hath made.

But sure I feare my fortun is not so faire, that I for thee should bitter death sustaine: Yet if it chaunce, this still shall be my praire, that ere my ende, I may thy sight attaine. Ay me poore wretch, my wish would worke my woe. Thy irefull face would cause my griefe to grow.

What force I that? If God would giue consent, that thy white hands a while before I dye Might comfort me, I should be well content, whether with friendly or with frowning eye Thou me beheldst: For, being traind to griefe, Till life be lost, I looke for no reliefe.

But what auaileth me my vaine desire? too childish is this fond conceipt of mine. No hope can helpe to that which I require, these desarts are vnfit for one so fine. Yet ofte times heere me thinkes thy face I see, With mercie mixt, anone with crueltie.

And euen as one which spectacles dooth weare in eight parts cut, can haue no perfect sight, (In that from one, such sundrie formes appeare): euen so my fancie neuer falls out right. For in my sleepe I onely shadowes see, When substaunce sweete is farthest of from me.

Sometimes I prooue, and forth I put my hand, and thinke to feele the thing I hope to finde:

But then (alas) my dreame I vnderstand, and torments fresh doo newly vexe my minde. So that these trees as witnesse of my care, To heare my plaints to silence them prepare.

The time I sing to ease my heauie hart, conuerts in fine to former miserie: Ah cruell Dame, that I (without desart) for louing thee, in countrie straunge should die. But what know I, that thou dost this intend: Heauens graunt thy sight to me before mine end.

Héere he ended this song, the Knight of the Sunne ga∣thering by his dittie the wretchednesse of his estate, he could not but accōpanie his pitifull musick with many streams of brackish teares renuing in his minde the olde stormes that lately battered his brest. Wherevpon he then alighted from his horse, (which before he had not done) and with a soft pace he marched towards the olde ruinous house, where he sawe a knight prostrate vpon the ground all clad in cloth of gold, which in truth was torne in many péeces, and perceiuing the Knight to be of a goodly stature and verie well proporti∣oned, and so young that scarce might bée séene anie haire on his face, and therewithall so faire, that the knight of the Sun neuer sawe anie one that might match him, he greatlye wondered. This enthralled knight hauing his eies shut vp, h•••• guished forth trickeling teares so fast, that almost with bl••bbering he had dis••igured his face. As the Knight of the Sunne viewed all these things attentiuely, the young for∣lorne man without opening his eyes, turned him vppon the other side and said,

Oh Prince of Dacia, how much better wer it for thée to die then to liue in this continual thraldom.

The Grecian prince stood still to sée if this sorrowing knight woulde renue his plaintes, who immediatly after with ex∣treame dolor began to say.

Oh death, what doo I féele, whe∣ther are thy forces fled, why hast thou now forsaken me, sith at this present thy curtesie might fauour mine estate.

Oh

cruell Fortun•• (admit there be anie▪) art thou not satisfied with tha•• iniurie which thou hast alreadie extended vppon me: wilt ••hou néedes inioyne me to suffer more penaunce: make an ende I saie, of thy greedie desire, make me not sometimes merrie and more of••en sorrie. When he had fini∣shed these speeches, he began to slumber, and immediatly with a sorrowing sigh he began to saie. Alasse Fortune, how ma∣nie things are there framed by thy hands, swéete in all mens taste, and sowre in my disgestion, pleasant to many, and bit∣ter to me. Af••er this he tooke againe his instrument, & with an harmonious stroke & pittifull voice he sang these vearses.

O Heart more hard then Hircan Tiger fell! and are more deafe then sencelesse troubled seas: O causelesse foe, whose rigor doth excell! to thee I yeeld, thy anger to appease: Take tyrant wrathfull, wreake of me thy fill, That ending now, my griefe remaine not still.

My heauie cheere, and euill that is past, my fainting voice, my case so comfortlesse, Thou moandst not once, so mercilesse thou wast, nor stirdst thy foote, to ease me in distresse: But time will come, when sorrow hath me slaine, That thy repentance will increase thy paine.

Ah cruell, how canst thou the loue forget, that each to other we in youth profest? Which when I minde, full many a sigh I ••et, for that was it which first bred my vnrest: And for the sweete, which then by thee I felt, I finde sharpe sowre, O most vniustly dealt.

Tell me wherein I haue offended thee, or when I slackt thy seruice anie waie: Then how canst thou so much vnmindfull be, when oft in secret thou to me wouldst saie:

That in my absence, Lucifer so bright, Nor gladsome Phoebus once should giue thee light.

I gone, thou vowest, the waters should not yeeld their wonted solace, nor the pleasaunt Rose, Or any flower of the fragrant feeld: such loue thou saidst, thou didst on me repose. Which was but small as now the ende doth trye, That thus distrest, thou sufferst me to dye.

Oh Gods of loue, (if so there any be) and you, of loue that earst haue felt the paine, Or thou thy selfe, that thus afflictest me! heare these my words, which hidden griefe constraine: Ere that my corps be quite bereaud of breath, Let me declare the cause of this my death.

You mountaine Nymphes which in these desarts raigne, cease off your chase of sauage beasts a while, Prepare to see a heart opprest with paine, addresse your eares to heare my dolefull stile. No strength, remorce, no worke can worke my weale, Lo••e in my heart so tyrantlike doth deale.

O Driades, of louers much adorde, and gratious damsells, which in euenings faire Your closets leaue, with heauenly beautie stord, and on your shoulders spred your golden haire, Attend my plaints: and thou that made'st me thrall, If thou haue power, giue speedie death withall.

Ye sauage Beares in caues and dennes that lye, remaine in peace if you my reasons heare: And be not mooued at my miserie, though too extreame my passions doo appeare. Ye Mounts farewell, ye fragrant fields adieu, And siluer streames, high Ioue still prosper you.

He finished his song with manie a bitter sigh, and hée was so windlesse with sobbing, that he laye as it were in an extasie stretched vpon the ground. The Knight of the Sun entring into this ruinous lodge, finding the Gentleman in this wretched estate, he began ne to behold the proportion of his face, and with extreame dolour wepte, as well in bal∣launcing his owne passed miserie with this young knights, as also for that he verely reputed him to be his brother Ro∣sicleer, or els some néere kinsman of his, for that in beautie and strongnesse of bodie, he resembled him so much, y^t there was but small difference betwéene them, sauing onely the beard. While the Grecian Prince was beholding this sor∣rowfull sight, the inthralled knight with a déepe sigh awa∣king, and séeing the Knight of the sunne afore him, he won∣dred what might drawe so comely a Knight vnto so solita∣rie a woode, and therewithall he reared vp his bodie, and sit∣ting vpon y^e gréene grasse, with many a drerie teare, hee be∣held y^e shape of the Knight of the sun, & inforcing himselfe to speake, he said: Sir Knight, insomuch as fortune hath di∣rected you hather to accompanie me in this desart place, sit by me I pray you, and pardon my folly, in that you haue found me so disordered. The Prince without making anye aunswere, sate downe as the Knight intreated him, beeing very desirous to knowe the ende of that aduenture, & what cause made him demeane so tragicall a life, he being set, he tolde the Knight, that the desire he had to vnderstande the barke vearses that were in the trées, and likewise to heare his swéete songs, which so harmoniously he sang, mooued him to forsake his waye, and to repaire to this ruinous lod∣ging, & therwithall made render of his seruice to the knight. While the Prince deliuered these speaches, the comfortlesse Knight was musing with himselfe, what he might be, who by his comelinesse appeared to be valiaunt, and by his cur∣tesie to be honourable, and therewithall was verie desi∣rous to knowe what he was, and béeing somewhat stin∣ged with the bitter passions which he had alreadie sustained he said.

Alasse sir Knight, howe little is the bodie touched with the dolefull cares of the heauie heart, and how slenderly nowe a dayes is the guerdon of a faithfull friend, as mine owne ex∣perience can best relate it, so shall your curtesie mooue me to impart the well spring of all my woe, and then I beseech you iudge how vnworthily I am tormented, I cannot otherwise thinke but you will pittie my m••shaps with some sorrowing sighs, especially if at anie time you haue tasted the bitter pils of loue, and I promise you I would be heartely gladde that it might stand with your pleasure to make me acquainted with your name, to the end I might knowe to whome I might disclose my wretched estate. The Prince made him aun∣swere and sayd.

I am sonne to the Emperour Trebatio of Greece, and am called the Knight of the Sunne, brother vn∣to the renowmed Rosicleer, whom you greatly resemble, and be thus perswaded, that the sparkes of loue hath kindled as many glowing coales in me as in anie other, and hath left as deepe impression of sorrowe in my poore heart as in anye other Knight. Therefore Knight as I haue satisfied your re∣quest, so I praie you vnfolde to mée the cause which makes you liue so pensiue. In so dooing, I will sweare by the al∣mightie God, I will hazard my life to purchase your desired quietnesse.

The Prince of Dacia which had alreadie heard of the prowesse of the Knight of the Sunne, héerewithall began to shake off part of his martirdomes, and knowing the wor∣thinesse of the knight, bowing downe his bodie somwhat low he said.

Although y^t my mishap haue ben great in susteining such cōtinual griefs, yet doo I esteeme it slēder, sith y^t héerby I haue purchased acquaintance with y^e flower of all chiualrie, whose valiant hart doth bemone my oppressed estate, & whose only counsell wil determine my exceeding torments. Sith thē renowmed prince y^e loue hath already made a passion in thine hart, wherby you may y^e better be an eie witnes of my wret∣chednesse, or to saie the truth of my cruell death: Understand you then that I am Don Eleno Prince of Dacia, sonne to Cadislao, brother to the high and mightie Emperour Treba∣tio your Father, and to the beautifull Florisena Daughter to

the king of Cypres and Nygroponte, vnder whose winges I was nourished till I was eight yéeres of age, and was tray∣ned vp in y^e regall sort as was incident to my parents estate. Béeing of this age, spightfull Fortune who is slipperie to all men, and leuells commonly at the contented minde, spun mée so course a thrid, as I feare me in the weauing it will proue my vtter destruction. This blinde Fortune I saie, conuayed to the king my Father his court the beautifull Princesse Flo∣risdama, daughter to the king of Nygroponte, brother to my Father, she was equall to me in age, and so indued with beu∣tie, that she séemed Angelicall. While I was thus young, the burning flames began to scorch me, which now doo singe me, and we were so allied, that without anie suspition we wal∣ked where we would, and most commonly we spent our time in a banquetting house which was halfe a mile from the Ci∣tie which was right faire, & compassed about with christal∣line streames, and gréene meddowes furnished with swéete flowers we lead so pleasant & princely a life, y^t wée bestowed all our care in catching chirping Birdes and young ••ea∣uerets. Our mutuall good wills was so greate, as seldome did we forbeare each others companie, mine procéeding of an inward desire to haue hir to my wi••e, & hers in regard of the affinitie which was betwéene vs. This ••ugured life con∣tinued vntill we were fouretéene yeares of age, the which time we bestowed in hunting, to the great comfort of my heart (though in the ende not to the harts ease of my mind) my Florisdama hauing a crossebowe in hir hand, and a bu∣gle horne about hir necke, little mindfull of that sorrowe which galled me so much. While she continued this vaine in hunting, it begate a singular good will in me to sée hyr shoote, hauing hir golden lockes somewhat layde forth, and vpon hir head was knit a garlād of all swéet smelling flow∣ers, she had a gowne of white Satten all laid ouer with gold lace, which made her séeme so celestiall, that she had bene a∣ble to haue quailed the heart of Cupid. Beléeue me and doubt not of it, valiant Prince, that Venus in hir most brauerie did neuer excell hir. Neither coulde the inchaunted Circ••s

with all her cunning, frame so much beautie in her face, to beguilde those whome she thought to entice. My desire still increased to beholde so much beautie, and the beautifull La∣die setled all her care in chasing the little Fawne, which when she had gotten at anie aduauntage, shée would surely shoot and spéed, wherevpon I would speake softly vnto my selfe and say. Alasse, that arrowe we••e better bestowed in my heart, for being once dead, I should auoide an hourely death, which pearceth me euerie daie. Therfore be assured of this, Knight, that I sustained not so much ioy by her companie in the ••aie time, but I endured as great torment in the night by her absence. Béeing thus wasted in woe, Florisdama hadde a narrow scantling at the cause of my passions, and yet was she not fully resolued that it was for her sake, and therefore with making shewes of loue she demaunded what wringed me in such sort, either whether it was an imperfection in my selfe, or a want of boldnesse to discouer it, hauing as I haue alreadie declared attained to the age of fouretéene yeares, I was dubbed Knight by my father, God knowes how grée∣uous it was to me to be separated from the thing wherin I ioyed so much. The imagination whereof I referre to your discréete iudgement, most worthie Grecian Prince, sith that alreadie you haue tasted the same sauce of cruell loue, and a∣las howe gréeuous were those thoughtes vnto me which brought vnto my minde the enter-course of spéech, the kinde familiaritie, the pleasant walks, and the comely graces of my diuine Florisdama, your passed miserie maye easily haue an ame at y^e same, & my present estate may best discouer it, what shall I say more, right worthie knight, but my passions were so bitter, and my helpe so slender, that I lost my coulour, for∣bare my meate, and grewe to be so weake, that an inkling therof came vnto my ladyes eares, who perceiuing in what poore and lowe estate I remained, entreated mée most ear∣nestly to disclose vnto her the cause which pinched mée so greatly, promising mée that if my sorrowes might bée relée∣ued through the fauour of anie Gentlewoman, shée woulde straine her selfe to release them if it were possible, and

would hazarde her selfe to procure her fauour which had so much enthralled me, wherat with watrie eyes I thus an∣swered her.

Alasse Florisdama, loue hath layde such a corsiue to my heart, such a flame vnto my lightes, and such a sting vnto my breast, as it hath reduced mée to this state wherein you sée mée. Oh souereigne Ladie, how much better had it bene for me, that rather in my gréene yeares and in the middest of my hunting, Atrapos had shredde in sunder the twist of my lyfe, then nowe to continue in sorrowe without anye hope of release or delart of releefe. The Angelicall Ladie see∣ing me wéep so heauily, could not but distill some few teares from her christallin eies, albeit she did not throughly féele the bottom•• of my inwarde griefe, and therevppon she sayde thus.

Ah my louing brother, let me obtaine that fauour as to ma∣nifest vnto me the cause why you faile in sorrowe, and as it séemes remodilesse, graunting my request, I promise you to procure with all diligence that there may be some salue that may cure that festering wound which seemes to cancur your hart & impaire your ioyes, for if you giue me credit I am per∣swaded there is no Ladie so vngratefull as to denie you her loue, béeing so valiant a Knight as you séeme to bée: and a∣gaine, knowing the worthinesse of your progenie, the disposi∣tion of your minde, and those incomperable vertues which shine in you: Alasse why shoulde not the courage of your minde suffice to kindle the affection of all the Ladyes in the worlde. And for that it hath béene your course Fortune to yéeld and surrender the interest of your good will to the sub∣iection of one Ladie, relinquishing all other ioyes and pa∣stimes. I meane not as now to shrinke from you, but with all my endeauour to reléeue and succour thine estate, vntill such time as my care and practise maye haue light of her, that hath brought so worthie a Knight into such a Laborinth, and hath cleane bereaued him of his libertie, and dispos∣sest him of his former ioyes: spare not therefore to im∣parte vnto mée what it is that wringes you: thereby then

shall you perceiue the willingnesse I haue to doe you good. And the great care that I will execute, to stay the ranck••ur of your disease. The pithie perswasions of this angelicall Ladie, were so swéet and comfortable, that they caused such bashfulnesse in my heart, that it mooued mée to chaunge cou∣lour, and through modest shame I could not, no nor I durst not open my lippes for to vntwist vnto her the bottome of my griefe, but craued pardon, promising her, that at our next méeting, I woulde bewraie who she was, that galled mée so greatly, shée béeing satisfied héerewith, and my words carrieng some credite with her, shée departed from me: but the terrible night that I suffred, what with visions, dreadful∣nesse of dreames, mistrust of good Fortune, I referre the tast of those pills to your sau••ury and mature iudgement, noble Prince. For sometimes I thought good to disclose and disco∣uer the whole state of my paine. And immediatly I would charme those thoughts, preferring a cruell death before a per∣petuall torment, but yet in the ende I concluded with my selfe, and thought it good to vnfolde the plaites of my sorrow to so good a Phisition, whose skill I knew could helpe mée, if disdaine did not let it. I thought it good to entertaine hir courtesie as one that could enfraunchise my bondage, but wanting abilitie to perfourme my desires by meanes of inwarde paynes, which hourely griped mée. I thought it not impertinent to vse a pollicie by (Metaphora.) And ha∣uing decréed with my selfe how to handle this practise, I rose verie earlye in the morning, and shoouing off all feare, I apparelled my selfe more braue then I was accu∣stomed, and went out of my Chamber to present my selfe to her, who had more authoritie ouer mée then my selfe. And loe, I found my mistresse attending for mee, desirous to heare the exposition of that riddle which so darklye I had propounded vnto her. The time was excéeding fauou∣rable and the place most conuenient, so that I had verye good opportunitie and leasure to disclose the secretes of my heart. And surely shée hadde no sooner discouered a glim∣mering of me, but shée came to encounter me immediatly,

(whose Angelicall and braue beautie surpassed the twink∣ling Starres,) and: he•• greate desire remayning to knowe the cause of my sorrowe, with a gratious and smiling countenaunce she approched to me and saide on this man∣ner.

Louing Cousin, the place is now so conuenient as y^• you néede not to make it strange to me wherein you are so grie∣ued, I beseech you blush not to rehearse your pangs, which I knowe doo sting you, and in so dooing I promise you I will aduenture my selfe in anie daunger, howe greate so euer it bée, to remooue those pinching passions which so greatly afflict you. Then I séeing the houre so fit to make my market; I tooke out of my bosome a faire bright Chri∣stall glasse, and with a panting heart, I sayd.

Faire Laie, and the onely nourisher of my lyfe, receiue this Glasse, & therein shall you see the Image of her who is the procurer of my martirdonie, and encreaser of my woes: marke well her countenaunce, and then tell me I praie you whether it lyes in your power to vse anie au∣thoritie ouer her, I am perswaded she is so neere a friend of yours, as you onely may dispose, which being true, I ear∣nestly require you, to fulfill that which you haue promised me, euen for affinities sake, and for promise made▪ I am bolde to craue you to keepe the couenaunts which you haue made with me.

After I had thus spoken, with greate hast and quick∣nesse she tooke the glasse out of my hande. And drawing off the couer she looked therein, wherevppon she coniectured straight that she was the bréeder of my woes, which sodaine and straunge thought altering her coulour, she remayned greatly gréeued, staring on me with a stearne and wrath∣full countenaunce, beleeue me the memorie thereof as yet redoubles my sorrowe, for considering then with my selfe how bitterly shée harped vppon this string, and what a passionate minde did feede her melancholyke humour, I woulde more willinglye haue spared my lyfe, then to haue her wast her selfe in sorrowe, through the greene

imagination of that 〈◊〉〈◊〉, which not béeing applyed. I hadde no comfort lefte me but death: and yet with this straunge demeanour she was not contented, but starte vp, and rowling the beames of hir christalline eyes towardes me, as though they were sparkes of fire kindled with ma∣lice, she sayd.

Cousin, hardly coulde I euer haue bene perswaded to haue found you so presumptuous, as to haue giuen the on∣set to any thing which might preiudice mine honour, or of∣fend my minde, partly for that you are bound to please all Ladies, but principally for that you should not harme your friendes, among whom albeit I haue bene least able, yet haue I not bene most vnwilling to stande you in stéed: sith therefore these considerations haue not preuayled to quench the firebrande of your foolish loue, I enioyne you vppon the penaltie of my displeasure, not to make me staine my credit, by imbruing mine owne handes in mine owne bloud: for in so dooing, your villanie shall be published to the world, and the losse of my life shall make your traiterous heart ac∣cessarie to my murther.

After she had ministred this corosiue vnto me, she re∣tourned into hir closet, leauing me so benummed of my sen∣ses, and so surfetted with this banke••, that not being able to disgest it, I sonke presentlye to the grounde, lying as it were in a traunce, where I was founde by the maydens of honour, which attended vppon the person of the Quéene my mother, who séeing me in this pitifull plight, bethought them immediatelye of those drugges, which might awake my dulled senses: and as it is séene commonlye, that wo∣men are timerous in such tragedies, they yelled and shri∣ked in such sort, that the Quéene my mother ouer-hearde them, who wondring at the cause of this clamour, and lesse thinking of my distressed estate, repaired vnto the place, whereas I laye thus martired, and séeing mée lulde and rockte vppe and downe in the Ladies lappes, so bathed in teares, and so hopelesse of life, she wringed hir handes, and

what with their cha••ing of me, and pittiful noise they made, I felte my selfe somewhat reuiued againe, and when I ope∣ned mine eyes and sawe my selfe inclosed with so manye Ladyes and Damosells, and she absent whose vnkindnesse hadde dragged mée to this miserie and torment, I sodainlye fell againe into a traunce, and after long trauayle, and no lesse sorrowe, they summoned together my vitall spi∣rites.

When I was the second time brought from death to lyfe, I founde they hadde stripte mée, and layde mée in my naked bedde, the same companie continued with mée, which came first to visite me. Likewise there came to com∣forte me certaine Knightes and Gentlemen, who demaun∣ded of me where I felt my greatest griefe, and what was the cause of it. I then considering with my selfe howe despaire did rule the stearne of my boate, and howe frozen I founde my Mistresse hir fauour (though vndeseruedly I was dis∣pised) I didde request them to bée quiet, and to depart from me for that time, giuing them to vnderstande, that I was disposed to sleepe, which courtesie they presentlye graun∣ted me.

Nowe Cousin, and worthie Prince of Greece, you maye gesse what discontented thoughts, what bitter imagi∣nations, what sodayne alterations of minde, and what sun∣drie sorrowes I masked in, beeing hemmed in betwéene dispaire and death. I know not I assure you what humane or earthly bodie were able to sustaine so manye tortures or so often rakings as my oppressed minde did, hauing not a∣nie helping carde in my hande, nor anie hope that my For∣tune woulde prooue better. In this perplexitie at midnight I arose vp and apparelled my selfe, putting on my armour, the which I thinke you haue séene. Amongest these thicke bushes, I caused a Lackie to make readie my horse with as much secrecie as might bée, and taking my horse I departed out of the pallace without ••arrieng or resting in anie place a moment, but with continuall sighs and sorrows, in the end of eight daies I attained vnto this place where you finde me

and perceiuing it to be so proper and conuenient to shed my complaints in, I vnbrideled my horse in this wilde fieldes, and determined with my selfe héere to ende my dayes, wher I haue remained this two yeares, demeaning this sorrow∣full life, wherein you sée me now, nourishing my selfe, with such fruites, as this wildernesse doth ••éelde. And somtimes the shepheards that come hether to shrowd themselues from the Sunnes parching heate, doo fauourably bestow some pit∣tance on me, and kéepe me companie according to their lea∣sure. Thus haue I vnfolded vnto you (most excellent prince) the beginning, not the ending of all my sorowes: sée I beséech you, if you can call to minde any remedie that may stay the rankling of my disease, which hath continued so long, and wasted me to the very heart.

Unneth had he rehearsed these wordes, but his senses be∣gan to faile, he was so ouercome with sorrow in rehearsing the tale.