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 FIRST BOOKE of the second part of the Mir∣rour of Knighthood: wherein is intreated the vali∣ant deedes of armes of many worthie Knights.

¶THE CRVELL BAT∣taile which past betweene the Knight of the Sunne and the fierce Gyant Bramaraunt, in which bicke∣ring the Gyant perceiuing he must needs haue the worst, murthered himselfe. CAP. I.

WHEN THE GLITTERING armour of Aeneas of Troie was at the re∣quest of his Mother Venus forged in Vul∣can his shoppe, the well s••eeled hamme••s did not temper and beate it with grea••er 〈◊〉〈◊〉, ••hen the heroicall sonne of Trebatio (〈◊〉〈◊〉 the stou•• Pagan Bramarant through the middest of the Grecian woods,) did with his 〈…〉〈…〉 blowes vpon his armour, mangling by little and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his strong and lustie bodie, so much the more their choler in∣creased, as the combat did indure betwéene them. There were present at this bickering the renoumed▪ Emperour Trebatio, Alicandro the king of Hungarie and his Grand∣father, with manie other puissaunt Princes and greate Lordes, who with no small admiration did beholde ••he ex∣ceeding fiercenesse with which they let driue their blowes, the one at the other, which did resound an Eckoe in the aire, and yéelded a terrible noise in the woodes. This bat∣taile

did continue betwéene thē y^e space of two long houres, and albeit it was fierce and sharpe, the valour of the incen∣sed knight of the Sunne preuailed not to abate or exstin∣guish the rage of the Pagan, & much lesse could the force of the Tartarian quaile in anie sort the courage of the prince∣ly Grecian. The skirmish being hot, and the redoubted son of Trebatio perceiuing that it indured very long without certaintie who had the better: héerevpon béeing greatly in∣flamed with furie, lifted vp his peisant club aboue his head, & did discharge it vpon the pagan his left shoulder, in such sort, (that notwithstanding his strength) he was forced to shrinke backward, and so fell flat vpon his right side, being greatly dismaied at y^e blowe, & much more at the fall: he be∣gan to recouer himselfe at length by the friendly help of an ash trée which was close by him, for otherwise his vnwil∣die bodie had taken more pause vpon the ground. Scantly had be taken good footing when he perceiued the knight of the Sun sort him another sequence aunswerable to y^e first. The Gyant being vnprouided of anie trumpe to cast in his waie, whervpon he was driuen to close with the Grecian, and hauing ceazed his bodie with his sharpe talents, he be∣gan to gripe him verie hard: The heroicall Prince séeing himselfe thus imbraced contrarie to the custome of all cur∣tesie, began to shift, for to auoide this course entertainment so well as he might, but wanting more time then courage he was thereby tript to the grounde. And finding himselfe laden with his enimie he was therby compelled to forsake his club, and by all meanes to séeke to shake off that vn∣friendly burthen. Therefore catching Bramarant by the middle with no lesse agilitie then furie, hée did violentlye pull him vnderneath: whereby he requited him in part, for the discourtesie of the former fall. There did they both shew their inestimable forces, and passing nimblenesse of bodie, in this cruell and daungerous encountering. And thus they long time tumbled and tossed each other on the grasse, some times not moouing for want of breath,

otherwhiles wallowing together to get the masterie, yéel∣ding forth most terrible groninges, by reason of the great paines and wearinesse that they susteyned in this harde conflict, at length they set each other at libertie, & then start vpon their féete, and beganne to fight as fiercely as before. The Knight of the Sunne drawing out his Swoord, sup∣posed that no resistaunce of the enimie, how strong so euer it were, coulde suspend the execution of his purpose, the Moore likewise tooke holde of his heauie trenchaunt blade, cursing and banning his Gods, that they hadde endued this Knight with so great force and prowesse. Bée∣ing in this brainsicke moode, he wold not attempt to make experience of his enimies force againe, but flourishing his sword amongst the troupe, caused thē to sunder themselues and so in flying, made a broad lane betwéene them, and ranne to shrowde himselfe into the thickest of the Woode, that he could, leauing the people in a great admiration: The noble knight of the Sunne when he beheld that his cham∣pion betooke him to his héeles in so great hast, whether hée did it for feare (which was vnlikely being a stout champiō) or for diuelish madnes, (which might séeme true) béeing no christian, called for his horse, & could not be perswaded frō pursuing y^e Pagan, by the Emperour his father, making a semblaunce of great anger by his countenaunce, his horse being brought by one of his esquires, he mounted into the Saddle verie lightly, without helpe of his stiroppes, and broching his courser with the Spurres, hée made him runne so swifte, that he séemed another Perseus vppon his Pegasus, to them that behelde him. He ceased not to course vp and downe the Forrest, with set purpose to single out his Enimie, and not to rest vntill hée hadde subdu∣ed him, or els to be conquered by the vertue of his ad∣uersaries force.

Noble Rosicleer perceiuing his brother to be inclyned for to take reuenge of the Pagan, and thereby mistrust∣ing least that some frowarde mischaunce might attende

vpon him (which fickle fortune doth vsually affoord), héere∣vppon did call for his horse and armour out of hande, which being brought with as much spéed as might bée, in so short a time he being furnished with his owne weapons & armour, he leapt vp nimbly into y^e saddle, & posted through the forrest in as great hast as he might, following his bro∣ther in the same path whether he went, wher we wil leaue him, to make rehearsall of that which did befall in the Em∣perours court, in the meane time: when as y^e beholders had somewhat staide themselues in remembring this notable battaile, & had as it were forgotten the sharp brunts y^e two champions susteined, the Emperour with y^e rest were som∣what recomforted to sée how louingly Rosicleer did follow to aide and succor his brother, and discoursing by the way of the battaile, and of the incredible strength and courage of the Pagan, they withdrew themselues into their tents: being not long there, newes was spred abroad in the court of the losse of Clarim••nt, which report when the Empres hard, it laid such an impression of griefe in her Emperiall heart, that albeit she was an Empresse and had ruledome of many nations, yet had she not so much power ouer her selfe, but presently therevpon shée fell into an extreame Extasie betwéene the Empresse Claridianas armes. The Quéenes and Ladies beholding so tragicall & sodain mischaunce, they clustered altogether, & with certain drugs which they had about them in a readinesse, they somwhat reuiued hir againe, she being before greatly distraughted out of hir wits and senses. And with sorrowing sighes re∣plenished with much martirdome, descending from the bot∣tome of her heart, bathing also her beautifull visage with two streames of salt teares gushing from her eyes, with a lamentable voice shée deliuered certaine spéeches, which did mooue the assistaunts vnto verye great compassion: To whom the emperour came (although he was God wot, in such plight himselfe, that his case rather required more comfort) then to visite the comfortlesse: yet notwithstand∣ding

he with a graue countenance, verie louingly did che∣rish & perswade her: which spéeches of his sauoured som∣what of an angrie shewe of reprehension, in the ende hée wrought so much with her, as she was fullie recouered and contented. The Emperour not to séeme daunted with any thing, but to make a more apparaunt shew of his valour, he commaunded his huntsmen to continue the sport, and in outward semblance séemed to be so merrie as euer he was, wheras in truth he was secretly wringed, for the excéeding great passion which he sawe the lady Claridiana indure, for the sodeine absence of him who was newly married vnto her, & had begotten her with childe. After thrée daies were passed, they were desirous to returne to the Citie againe, and taking vp their tents, they layde all thinges in order, and in readinesse to procéede on theyr iourney. But as they began to martch on theyr waie, they might perceiue comming a long by the Forrest side a Coach, all couered ouer with blacke Searge, which foure horses did drawe, trapped with such like blacke furniture. Before it eight knightes came riding, with Targettes and armour, all out of order, and broken, which did very well expresse, that they escaped from some daungerous & hot skirmish. Be∣hinde the Coche did attend as many more knights, hauing their armour sutable to the first, all did beare blacke deuices, the barbature of theyr Horses, aunswerable to the same. The Emperour and Knightes which behelde this same shew, béeing all blacke in mourning wise, did raine their horses to knowe what came in the same Coach.

Héere must I digresse and recite vnto you the cruell order and miserable end of the vnfortunate Pagan, & will returne at length to relate vnto you, what did betide the Emperour and his companie, after this sight of the Coche. The diuelish More Bramaraunt ran through the Grecian forrests (a hellish furie being his guide) yelling & braieng against his Gods, and as a starued Tyger he trauased the

woods, cutting downe oakes, & r••oting frō y^e ground pine ap∣ple trees, as if they had ben slēder reeds. And being plunged in this pansiue moode, he entred into y^e highest degree of his melancholike passiōs, debating w^t himself, why shuld it not be possible y^t his mightie hand shold conquere & subdue one silly Knight. But other somtimes descending from y^e moode into a more mad & frantick kind of behauiour, this disturbed Moore did bend himselfe towards the midst of y^e wood, & kéee∣ping on his right hand, he repaired towards the brink of a broad & deepe riuer which ran by that wood, where he pur∣posed to ease his wearie lims: and the better to performe his desire, he vnlaced his helmet, and hurlde it scornfully to the ground. Now the infernall furies began to visite the Moore, and attended to sting his poysoned breasts, in such sort, that what with desire of reuenge, and sorrow for his late mishap, he was all kindeled in fire, hauing tossed ma∣nie thoughts in his crabbed minde. In the end, he cast vp his wretched eyes to the heauens, saieng:

O ye trecherous Gods, ioyn in league to defend your selues from mine vn∣fortunate hand, stay not, but muster your forces together, for if mine owne hand in the meane while be no impeach∣ment to the cause, by pulling out my heart, I will change the colour of these christalline waters with the Sacrifices of your bloud: for no doubt there resteth more valour in this one knigh••, then in you all, when you are together. O ye dastardly cowards, where are ye now become? Trust ye to this, that I haue in more regard the worthines of that knight that fought against me, then I haue in lyking your famed forces. And seeing y^t neither your powers nor my strength, may not paragon to his courage, and to the ende, ye shall not flatter your selues w^t a good opinion of your own soueraigntie, being insufficient to succour me, & much lesse vnable to suppresse my wil, or bridle my desire, I wil renounce you all, & trust no more to your fauors.

After he had thus spoken, forthwith he began to pull in sunder his strong & bright shining armor, & what with outragious∣nes,

or with sorow which did greatly gall him, he cast from him one péece héere, another there: & blaspheming against al his Gods, he sayd:

What doth it auaile me your vertue, your fauours, or mine owne strength? is it not altogether weaknesse? is it not a shew without substaunce? Haue you not suffered my father to be slain without taking reuenge? haue you not séene me subdued, wanting forces to requite it? Might not my father haue bene preferred before Iupi∣ter for grauitie & wit? before Alcides for prowesse? & before Mars for courage? Can I otherwise conceiue, but that you are all dastards, in y^t you take no reuenge: deafe, in y^t you will not heare the complaints of the oppressed: & blinde in that you cannot sée the deserts of me. I shuld think truly my fathers forces excéeding you all, ye haue bene a meane to bréede his death so soone. Why did you not assist me a∣gainst y^e Emperor Trebatio? why did you not maintain me against y^e knight, y^t hath cōquered 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in y^e field. O ye faint har••ed wretches, what hath brought me hether, thus in the prime of my youth to be put to shame, by being subdued of this knight. I will vse such meanes, y^t none of you shall take reuenge of me, by dieng at my enimies hands: neither shall any haue occasion to triumph & say, y^t he hath slaine the knight Bramarant. And speaking these & like speaches, he tooke his sword into his hand & said. O good & faithfull sword, release me from y^e shame which I deserue, in that I haue not executed y^t, which I did couenaunt to atchieue by thée, sith y^t neither thy trenchāt edges, nor my approued stoutnes haue sufficiently plaid their parts, to satisfie that, wherevnto my promise hath bound me. A cowardly arme did hold thée, a dastardly hart did direct thée, & an euil guer∣don be thy glory. Well, I will shrowd thée in such sort, y^t héereafter thou shalt not stand any other hardie knight in steed, nor be subiect to any man as thou hast bene to mée. This onely thing I request of thée, if any of y^e Gods carry y^e good wil to take thé vp to serue their own néeds, expres in what smal regard my vncōquered hart held thē, & thou

shalt perceiue, that they are not so valiant and stout as I am, or euer haue bene.

Hauing thus said, he cast it in the déepest part of the riuer, not hauing any more weapons but a poore poynado, which vsually he did weare about him: & taking it in his hand, deliuered these speaches vnto it.

Thou silly bodkin shalt finish y^e péece of worke, which all Christendome was neuer able at anie time to beginne, I meane in bereauing me of my wearie & lingering lyfe, for I aboue all men onely deserue to léese it, séeing that I béeing the sonne of so valiant a Father, haue not shewed anie sparke of that valour which by right ought to descend to mée from mine auncestour, sith then I haue digressed, I repute my selfe vnworthie to be registred for his sonne. O how worthely doest thou deserue death vnfortunate Bra∣marant, sith there are so fewe buddes of valour spring∣ing in thée. And let mée not denie but that mine aunce∣stours deserued to finde much more fauour at the Gods hands then I haue done. Forasmuch therefore as my cas•• is so bad, I will neither commend my soule to the tuition of the Gods, neither will I craue of any man so smal a fa∣uour as a graue for my wretched bodie.

Yéelding forth these reasons with a great and pitifull sigh, descending from his heauie heart, hée stabde the Dagger amiddest his ribbes, which pearced vnto the liuer and heart, and so the vitall powers striuing with death, and his mi∣serable carcasse beating vp and downe the small sandes for lyfe, there dyed in this sort the most valiant & stout Pa∣gan, whose semblable the world did neuer yet bring forth, most vnworthie (God knoweth) of so cruell and pitifull an ende.

¶The worthie Knight Rosicleer finding Brama∣raunt giuing vp the ghost, after he was dead, did entombe his corpes neere vnto a Pineapple tree, wherein he did ingraue an Epitaph. Cap. 2.

THE last pang & deadly gaspe that the va∣liaunt Tartarian yeelded, béeing distressed betwéene lyfe and death, was ouerheard by noble Rosicleer, who by chaunce (pursuing him and his brother) repaired to that place where the Moore lay wallowing: & aiming very well by his sorrowfull sighes, that he indured heapes of passions, rained his horse towards that way where hée heard so shrill these gronings, and staieng a while to heare his pitiful complaints, laid himselfe squat vpon y^e ground, not far frō whence y^e dead pagan lay imbrued in his blood. And wondering howe so déepe a riuer might chaunge his coulour by the losse of the bloud of one man, began to toss•• the dead corpes vp and downe, presuming in himselfe, that rather the passion of the minde or the weight of his armor then anie deadly blowe that he had receiued, had brought him to this extremitie. In the end, séeing his visage so be∣smeared with bloud, as he coulde not trulye gesse what Knight hée might bée, insomuch as he neuer sawe him but in his Beauer. Héerevppon hée wondred greatly, partlye to sée that this Knight was so strong timbered, but principally to sée his sterne and sowre countenaunce. And by as much as he could gather by his foresayde com∣plaints, he imagined him to be the executioner of his owne bodie. He pausing somwhat in a mase, in viewing this la∣mentable slaughter of Bramarant, without moouing his eyes either one waie or other, vntill in the ende he looked vp, béeing greatly afflicted in his minde, and déeply sighing, cast his eies that waie where the Moore his armour laie strawed as you haue alreadie hearde, and séeing them to be so greate and strong, he went about for to péece and lay them all in order, which thing being done, he knew by the deuice ingraued in them, that this was Bramaraunt the More, which lay thus murthered. His stout heart coulde not brooke this sorrowfull Sacrifice, but in considering

of the miserable ende which did befall vppon this Tartari∣an, he coulde not but shedde from his eyes some trickeling teares, saying:

O wretched worlde, what booteth so much the mightie limmes and excéeding forces of any man, when as thou with thy smooth and flattering face, doest drawe them at last that follow thy course▪ to such a wretched end, and at the pinch of all their pangs thou forsakest them. O Bramarant, Bramarant, whose forces did resist the mightie Grecian armie, the incomperable strength of my brother, the tried knight of the Sunne, and hast not had power to suppresse thine owne outragious passions. Alasse thy va∣lour and noble courage did require, naye rather deserue, more glorie, and more guerdon then this. Thy strong and fast knit members did merit to be entombed in a more rich Sepulchre, then in this weat and small sandes, and God knowes, neuer deserued to be a pluming stocke to the ra∣uenous Fowles of the ayre. What did mooue thée, O most vnhappie amongst all men, to make thy angrie arme be∣reaue thée of thine owne lyfe? It coulde bée nothing else I am sure, but thy surpassing great pride: What did moue thée to this vntimely death, as it well may be tearmed, sith thy fortune hath beene such, I will not suffer thy bodye to bee pulled in fitters with hungrie beastes and rauenous Harpies, neither will I sée thine armour dispearsed in such sort, without bestowing vppon thée the due desert of ho∣nour, which are sufficient witnesses of the sacrifice of thine owne bodie, and a testimonie of that which thou diddest offer vp to thy Gods, by sprinkling the pleasaunt ••ieldes and greene grasse with such a crimsin coulour.

And after hauing thus pittifully bewayled the Moore, hée tooke his helmet, and pulling out the murthering dagger, which was nailed close to the hiltes in his bodie, he digged a déep graue therewith, wherein was inter••ed the miserable bodye of the vnfortunate Tartarian. Likewise he did hang the ar∣mour vpon a verie faire and high Pine apple tree, which was néere vnto his graue, and with the point of his

Daggar did ingraue this Epitaph in the rinde of the Tree.

This Pine with stretched armes oreshades a valiant knight, Whose bodie heere interred lie••, and Bramarant he hight: In strength and feates of armes, he most men did surpasse, A Pagan borne, his natiue soile and land Tartaria was. His owne right hand, a wofull case, himselfe did slay, And rēt his heart which neuer was subdude before that day Trebatios sonne first there this mightie More hath found, Twixt life and death, and with his hands ingrau'de him in this ground. A Monument too base vnfitting his degree, Whose bloud & acts in tombe of gold interd deserud to be▪ In this faire growing pine for honour of his name, He did ingraue these lines, to be a record of his fame. And placed his armour heere, forbidding anie Knight, To take it hence, vnlesse he be as stout as he in fight. And who so shall it weare, must warres continue still, With Grecian Lordes, as Bramarant did, this standeth for my will.

Nowe hauing finished this péece of worke, he sayde:

Pardon mee valiaunt Moore, I beseech thee, because at this time & in this place I do not attribute so much honour to thée as thou deseruest: yet I doo promise thée by the faith of a Christian knight, to fulfill euerie point in this Epi∣taph, (I esteeme so much) though it bée done with the losse of my lyfe. And to make the more assuraunce of this my promise, I vowe that no yeare shall passe, but tha•• I will come to visite thy Sepulchre, to see and knowe who hath beene so hardie and ventrous, as to thinke himselfe wor∣thie to carrie away thy heroycall armour.

And in speaking these and such other lyke wordes, hée did not forget to mingle them with some trickling teares, his couragious heart was so tormented in meditating

of the lamentable ende of this desperate More. Hauing finished his talke and trauaile, without longer abode, he mounted vpon his cours••r, and directed himselfe thorough the thickest of the Wood, determining alwayes to accom∣plish y^t which he promised, although it did import so much in it, as the weight of his life, as you shall perceiue héere∣after. This valiaunt knight continued not without greate griefe of minde, in remembring the order of y^e death of Bra∣marant, which did continually occupie his memorie. And as he went thus drowned in sudde•• of sorrowe, he knew not, neither cared he which way his horse did carrie him, vntill the darknesse of the night surprised him, so that hée coulde not passe anie further, wherefore hée was constrayned to light from his horse to walke on foote, and to remaine in that place all Night, wherefore hée vnbrideled his horse, and gaue him libertie to féede on the swéete grasse, (whereof he had great néede) hauing endured much trauell before. He likewise vnlaced his helmet, and laying it vn∣der his head in steed of a pillow (being a course bolster for an Emperours sonne) rested his werie lims vpon y^e gréene medowe. And thus beeing alone and solitarie, he could not suspend the remembraunce of those passions, which the day before he had passed. Also those conceites did call to account more sorrowes, & made him to be gréeued for his long ab∣sence from his best beloued Oliuia, whose beautye hée intertained so déeply in his minde, as neither time, place, nor any fortune whatsoeuer, could seperate hir from his good opinion. Nourishing his minde with this swéete pas∣sion, he continually tossed too and fro: and in the ende, sée∣ing the bright shining Moone, & fixing his eyes vpon it, hée began to contemplate the diuine power of almightie God, not wondering also a little, how that y^e heauens were beau∣tified with golden stars, and how the greate Architector of the world, had setled euerie one in his due and con••enient place, which ingendered a greate confusion in his minde. These cogitations summoned him to sléepe, wherein hée

had not taken long rest, but y^t he heard on his le•••••• hand a harmonious sound of some musical instrument, & therwith all so pleasant and Angelicall a voyce answerable to the same, y^t he supposed it to descend frō y^e heauens. The prince start vp, and softly went through the darke thicket••es, to the end he might approch the more néerer, therby to be per∣taker of that celestiall musicke, but he was hindered of his iourney, for that Dianas brightnesse was eclipsed with a Clowde: wherefore then lifting vp his eyes, hée might discrie vnder a broade Pine apple trée, a certaine Lady sit∣ting vppon a quishion of blacke veluet, embrodered with diuerse pretie knots of golde, whom he supposed to be that Ladie, with which her diuine harmonie delighted his trou∣bled spirits, her faire & yeolow haire vntied, and hanging downe beneath her eares, did rest vpon her comely shoul∣ders, in such séemly sort, and so long, that some part therof touched the black veluet cloath, which did séeme with their golden colour to represent some golden embleme, wouen in the same cloth. She had before hir Christalline breast, a goodly Lute, whereon she played (as you haue hearde) this swéete musicke. There waited vppon her person nine faire damosells, arraied all alike, with gownes of blacke veluet, & on her one side ther lay prostrate a lustie & strong knight well proportioned in bodie, and tall, harnessed in a blacke Diamond armour, without anye other deuice, who was verie attentiue to the musicke, which the faire Ladie did sing: the tenor of the which is comprised in these vear∣ses following.

STraine forth a voice conformed to my hart, and let my fingers heauie stops applie: Whilest that my tongue in words bewray such smart, as who them heares, maie knowe in life I die. Foules, beasts and wormes, that neighbor neere this place, All in your kindes, assist my wofull case.

Yea euen the fish that in this riuer dwell, whose cleere sweet streames my teares haue bitter made, Will stay to heare the processe which I tell, the Nymphs also that haunt this grouie shade: And Ecko eke, full glad of such a mate, Will in my words bemone hir passed state.

I loue (aye mee) whereby my ioyes I lost, and am not lou'd, wherein fresh griefe I finde: Prowd Tyrant thou, with shame thy conquest bost, thy faith, my fame, staind by thy cruell minde, Who gotst with guile the guard of my good name, And leau'st me now to ransacke of defame.

Cannot my face where nature prints her praies, thy liking draw her A.b.c. there to know, My haires excell bright Phoebus golden raies, my eyes more cleare then starres in frost that show. My cheekes likewise, for perfect white and red, resemble bloud that in the snowe is shed.

The rest vnnamde doth match all these likewise, but lo my faith my forme too farre doth passe, Yea, forme and faith he shunnes and doth despise, whom ceaslesse I pursue from place to place: Whereby though ofte my tender lims I tire, My will yet fresh, through hope and sweete desire.

She made an ende of hir song with a pitifull sigh, and letting hir lute fall out of hir hand, with a trembling voice shée saide.

O Prince Zoylus, if thou diddest or wouldest knowe the greate trauaile that this carefull Damoisell susteyneth for thy onely cause, I doo verily thinke, that al∣beit thou hadst tasted of the water of the inchanted well of Merlin, yet could it neuer worke such effect in thée, as to

make thée carelesse of my torments, sith they are so sharpe, and I haue sustained them so long.

These words were no sooner vttered by this sorrowfull la∣dy, but presently, the knight start vp, who was laid downe close by the Lady, and could not be quiet, vntill he had an∣swered hir thus.

What breath hath loue made in your breast, most delicate damosell? how hath he subdued you with his blinde force, vnlesse the great disdaine and discon∣tentment that the Tartarian Prince sh••wed you doo op∣presse you, I know not why you should complaine: why shuld not you quite his discurtesie with like disgrace? why should you not make him tast of y^e sower which séemes so bitter to you? You sent for me (you know) to come into Greece, onely to be reuenged of his crueltie: and how of∣ten haue you wished his head as a Sacrifice in respect of his contempt? And how comes it now to passe, y^t in your songs he is remembred with such affection, thought vppon with such plain••s, and called vpon as a diuine creature? Be∣léeue mée and doubt not of it (good madame) if Fortune be so fauourable to assist mée in my purpose, I will in such wise contriue these matters, that you shall neuer haue a∣nie occasion to lament his lyfe, neyther yet to suspect that he doeth bestowe his good will and liking vpon some other Ladie.

The afflicted Dame notwithstanding all these his comfortable speaches, could not strip her selfe of any part of these excéeding sorrowes, which so déeply did sting her, wherevppon shée aunswered him in this order saying.

Prince of Mesopotamia, I sayle euen nowe betwéene two doubtes, whereby I doo not onely doubt, but am al∣so perswaded my shipwracke is harde at hande. For if I become so frowarde, as to enuie him whome I wish to bée my friende, or that I haue so cankered a minde as to séeke to destroie him whome I loue so well, what might be sayd of me otherwise then of a fained louer, and cruell ho∣micide: againe, if on the other side I pardon his death,

whose life and disdaine bréeds me this sorrow might argue too much pitie without desart. Alasse, what lucke had I, that loue should intrude himselfe so forcibly into my poore hart, and gouerne there as chiefe Lorde, and could he not haue battered the breast of Zoylo, whose de••ence in resisting had bene more strong then mine, but the weakest must to the wall, and the least able must beare the heauiest burthen. How gladsome would that daye be vnto me, wherein I might sée my Knight abandon his straungenesse, and ex∣tend more fauour vpon me: or els alas, how willing wold I be that my afflicted heart were drawen out of his place by his bloudie hande.

The poore Ladie béeing not a∣ble to speake anie more, wrong her handes and stayed her selfe against a Pine apple trée, which was behinde her backe, at the view whereof the Mesopotamian knight in great sorrow layd himselfe downe againe, vpon the gréene grasse. And the Grecian Prince wondring at this straunge aduenture, retourned very softly to that place wher he left his horse feeding, with intent and purpose to encounter that Knight, so soone as Titan shoulde appeare to lyght the world with his beames, and for no other cause but on∣ly to deliuer his friend from that prepensed mallice. And when as y^e firie Phaëton began with his glancing beames to shine, the Grecian Prince put on his armour, laced his helmet, mounted vpon his horse, and with a soft pace made towards the Prince of Mes••potamia, who was now pre∣pared to vndertake his iourney with his companie. After they had trauailed a while, the Prince did espie them pas∣sing through a faire champain or field, and was greatly a∣bashed at the excéeding beautie of the Ladye, whome hée viewed a long time, and loue hauing tickeled him for that she was so rare a Phoenix, he thought for her sake he coulde subdue all the worlde: wherefore he tourned his eyes towarde that place where the Knight was, and if before hée wondered at the Ladyes comely graces, not much lesse was he now amased at the strong bodye of

this knight, and at his huge and well fashioned weapons, whereby he reputed him to be some worthie & noble cham∣pion. After he had shaked off this imagination, hée said vnto him:

Knight, take thy weapons and armour for thy defence, for I am desirous to haue some triall of thée, before that thou doest proue thy valour with the Tartarian Prince, thereby peraduenture to quite him (if I canne) from the like battaile which thou doest intend to haue with him, at the request of this Ladie, and therefore I meane to preuent that diuellish purpose which thou hast promised to accomplish

The Moore heereat began to swell, and verie scornfully and with a feare∣full countenaunce replied.

What furie or diuell of hell hath placed so foolish a thought in thy brains, to vndertake that ex∣ploit, which the best of the Gods neuer durst enterprise:

and not able to speake anie more, his cholar & rage was so great, he laide both his handes vpon his sword, and therewithal let flie at the Grecian Prince such a blowe, that he made his head redouble in his breast plate, and vpon the necke of the same, he discharged another vpon him, which made him yéeld backward. The Grecian Prince wondering at his incompe∣rable strength and nimblenesse, drewe out that straunge and vnknowen swoord, which the Quéene Iulia did giue him, and lifting it aboue his head with one of his accustomed blowes, he did smite it vpon the pagan his helmet, which made him bowe downe his head to his saddle Pomell, so that his sen∣ces were almost benummed with the force of it, but béeing recouered, he began by little and little to smite and wounde the noble Prince, yet his dexteritie in fighting coulde little preuaile, for the Prince stoode not still, but did so b••stur him∣selfe, (and with as great furie as the other) that he did scarre his enimie in diuerse places, which he felt not without greate paine, although he made no semblaunce of the same, wherevp∣pon the battaile béeing before but kindled, was now on a hot flame, both of them burning in reuenge, and therefore conti∣nued a good while furious and fierce, slashing maine blowes betwéene them, which sounded a terrible noise in the thick∣nesse of the wood, as if manie Smithes had bene hammering

vpon theyr Ansieldes. But whosoeuer had then behelde the appalled countenance of the Ladie, hée would no doubt haue taken her for no liuing creature, so much did this desperate and fierce combat astonish her comelye face. And think∣ing vppon the valiaunt enimie of her Knight, who lyke a Beare that hath lost her yonglinges a••sailed him euermore▪ on the one side she wished in her heart the victorye ouer him, and on the other side fearing to sée her selfe all alone, she desi∣red greatly truce betwéene them, and that they might parte friendly, & that which did most glad her minde was, y^t often∣times she did imagine (& yet but doubting of y^e matter) if per∣haps this should be the knight whome she did take so greate paines to finde out, and that which did confirme her surmise, was, that she heard him at the first name y^e Tartarian prince. In such and other like thoughts and doubts, the comfortlesse Ladie passed awaie her time: In the meane while that the couragious Knights were busie how they might dispatch the one the other. But y^e crabbed Moore with both his hands gaue the stout Grecian such a blowe vppon his helmet, y^t he made his horse necke a pillow for his head, wherewithall he began to thumpe & beat all his féeling, & in this sencelesse sort was Rosicleer carried vp & downe the plaine by his horse, y^e Moore pursuing him to cut off his head, but as God would haue it, he awaked as it were out of a dreame, and furiously recoue∣ring his sworde, hée tourned backe againe, and repayed the Paganne with such a forcible blowe vppon his friendly hel∣met, that his wonderfull strength made the well tempered stéele to yéeld, and therewithall it made him fall backwardes vpon his horses buttocke, casting out blood out of his mouth, his horse carrieng him héere and there amidst the pleasaunt fields more then halfe dead, but Rosicleer would not followe him, but did attend whether and about what he went, who tarried not long but y^t he inioyed his former senses & strength, (being once almost dispossessed of them) and abashed to sée the Prince to haue surmounted him by lending him such a cruell blowe, so extreamely did all the furies in hell conspire in his breasts, that now hauing reared vp his swoorde, which fell

from him by force of that vnreasonable blow, he broched his horse with his spurres amaine, and with incredible swift∣nesse he encountered with the Grecian Prince, and hit him so mortall a stroke vpon one of his shoulders, that it made his bones rattle within his skinne, but he fayled not to leaue the print of his swoorde in some parte of the sinnow∣ed flesh, so that nowe the battaile seemed to bée but begunne, such was the fiercenesse of both these stout champions. And both of them imployed their forces in smiting of each other, and also their wits were not idle how the one by some s••ight might sooner cut off his enimie, because it gréeued them both that the battaile begunne two long houres since, shoulde in∣dure anie longer without aduauntage of anie parte, where∣fore both did their diligence to finish it by some waye or other. And all this while it was verie harde to knowe whe∣ther of them had the better ouer the other, béeing equiua∣lent in prowesse and manhoode. But the couragious and fierce Grecian béeing angrie in his minde to sée one onelye Knight to kéepe him at the staffes ende so long, replenish∣ed with an infernall furye, he beganne a fresh to double and redouble his mightie and peysaunt blowes vpon the Pagan, whereat he had good cause to wonder: and perceiuing that his strength did more and more increase with his courage, he beganne to blaspheme against his Gods, yet notwithstan∣ding lyke a firce Lyon hee thought to teare in péeces the worthie Grecian, wherewithall he let slippe so diuellish a blowe vppon his head, that with the losse of his vnderstan∣ding, hée did almost fall from his horse: The worthy Rosi∣cleer quickelye againe recouered, and séeing himselfe to bee in such a plight, hée tourned his horse so nimblye, that he scarce lefte his treading in the grounde, and nowe when hee sawe himselfe iumpe with his enimye, gathering together his forces and standing vpright in his stiroppes, hee weelded his sharpe Swoorde betwéene his strong and migh∣tie armes, and thundered so deadlye a blowe vppon the Moore his head-péece, (who indéede was not prouided for anie defence) the force whereof made a diuision from the

scull euen to the verie shoulders, the wretched Pagan falling down dead to y^e ground, y^e most parte of his bloud came gu∣shing out of his bodie. Unneth had hée fallen from his horse when the trembling and troubled Ladie did also fall from her Palfraie, as one that shoulde giue vp the Ghost, whome when her Gentlewomen did espie, lighted all of their Pal∣frayes, and with streames of salt teares began to lament her wofull case, & to accurse her froward fortune, euerie one stri∣uing about her, to trie if they coulde by anie meanes restore her againe to her memorie. The Prince séeing her in this extremitie, did also forsake his horse and come towardes the place, where this miserable Ladie laie like a stake, and cau∣sing one of her Gentlewomen to fetch a little water from the riuer which was hard by, he besprinckeled her beautified visage with it, and therevpon shee came to her selfe againe, and opened the dimmed windowes of hir darke bodye, and when she beheld the Prince so nigh hir, with a profounde sigh and pitifull voyce she sayde. O cruell homicide of my faithfull and valiant champion: thou thirstie bloudsucker of the royall bloud of Mesapotamia, dispatch nowe, dis∣patch I saie, to execute thy furie with thy imbrued Swoorde vpon my sorrowfull heart, and speaking these words she fell againe into an extasie as before, which Rosicleer marking, and gessing at her inward paine by her extearne countenance, he turned himselfe to one of her Damoysells, which as hée thought among the rest of hir traine séemed the chiefest, in knowing most hir Ladies secrets, and sayd vnto hir:

Gen∣tlewoman, I sée (God knoweth, not without great sorrowe be it spoken) y^e griefe y^t your Lady indureth in viewing my face, therefore I praye you tell hir from me, that I intreate her to goe to the Emperours court of Greece, and there pre∣sent her personage to his maiestie, and certifie him of all these accidents, and there to stay my comming, for I meane short∣ly to returne thether, and then I promise her, that there I will vse such meanes y^t she shall inioye to her great content∣ment, that thing, the want wherof doth so greatly grieue her, and because my wordes may carrie more credite with her,

you shall tell hir, that one of the Emperour Trebatio his sonnes, the greatest friend that the Tartarian Prince hath, did informe you this much.

And héerevpon not tarieng for anye replye, he mounted vpon his horse, coursing through the for∣rest. When he was gone, the Gentlewomen helped their la∣die by certaine drugges which they brought forth for pre∣uenting such mishaps, and so recontinued hir health againe, and afterward exprest to hir all that which the knights im∣parted vnto them, which report comforted hir not a little. The griefe which the Ladie and hir Gentlewomen did su∣staine, in séeing a straunge Knight glaunce by them armed, and to remaine in the woode alone without succour or com∣fort of any, I would heere set downe before your eyes: but I am inforced to return to the famous Rosicleer, and at this present, I will not make recitall to you, what Knight that was, who parting from Rosicleer did appeare againe vnto him at his going out of the forrest.

¶Prince Rosicleer trauailing on his way, hauing alre∣die taken leaue of the Princesses Ladies, did chance vpon a certaine aduenture, and of the successe hee had therein. Cap. 3.

THE valiant Rosicleer being departed from the sorrowfull princesse, went as he thought the néerest way through the forrest to finde his brother, with set purpose to make him acquainted with that which you haue alrea∣die heard, and afterwards to returne backe to Constantinople. So it happened that fortune guyded him into a broad and large way, which was his direct pathe to Constantinople, and turning him to the foote waye where he saw a great gate in hope to learne some newes of the knight of the Sunne. He had not trauailed long, but he descryed a farre off a ranke of men all armed, and they drawing more néere vnto him, he perceiued that they were xx. Knightes armed with black armour, and their head-péeces and beueres

of the same colour, and in their companie came a Chariot, all couered with blacke Searge so close, that it was impossi∣ble to see what was within it, y^e light came in through two windowes which were placed at the side of the Chariotte. Foure horses did drawe it, all clad in blacke cloth, and there did ride two faire dwarfes, as guyders of the same, all ap∣parailed in blacke. Behinde the same there came likewise tenne Knights cloathed in lyke sort, & by their countenaunce they weare all right sorrowfull, so that the troupe of the Knights that came with the Chariot were thirtie in num∣ber. With this heauie countenaunce and great straungenes, they passed by Rosicleer, without speaking any word vnto him: wherevpon the Prince came to those that wayted be∣hinde, and demaunded of them in courteous wise, what they were, which were inclosed in that ••orrowfull Wagg••n, but the Knights were so heauie and sad, that they made him no aunswere, but passed on forward, which bred a more earnest desire in Rosicleer to know who was within, sith that with such milde speach he had demaunded, and could not be re∣solued to any purpose. And héerevpon without taking anye further aduise in the matter, hée rushed among them that enuyroned the Chariot, onely to see what was within it, but ere he might come néere it, he was lette•• by two of the Knights which saide vnto him:

Staie thée Knight, staye thée, for if thou longest to knowe who is heere, thou shalte be hindered from it by vs, which stande heere to no other purpose. It is my desire (sayd Rosicleer) and willingly wold I be satisfied of my request without entering into the com∣bat, and if ye would affoord me so much courtesie, as to tell me the cause of so great sorrow, I should bée heartelye glad. Thou maist not vnderstande it, aunswered one of the Knights, at this time, therfore depart thou hence in peace, vnlesse thou wilt make experience of our forces, which doo attende vpon it. I knowe not (replyed Rosicleer) how it shall betide me, but truly whether you will or no, I am purpo∣sed to see what is within it.

After he had thus spoken, hée laid his hand vpon his sword, and without tarriaunce for

more speaches, he hit one of them so strongly, that he killed him. His companion seeing this, let driue at the Prince with all his force, but the fierce Grecian suted him a pas∣port sutable to his companions: which thing draue theyr companions into a wonderfull admiration, and héerevppon forgetting all courtesie, they altogether enuyroned the Prince, and strake at him on euerie side: but the valyaunt Grecian seeing himselfe in such a prease, it was not long, but that he did vnharnesse some, and maymed other some, and others hee strake downe dead, and cursed was hée vnto whome hée lent a full blowe. In such sort the Prince skir∣mished with those Knightes, that they beganne to recoyle, fearing the death, considering that it was better to disclose to him that which with such humanitie hée had demaunded of them. Heerevppon the knightes with blushing counte∣naunce made towarde the Knight, and béeing so wearie as they were, which tourned to their owne harme, they strake freshlye at him againe, wherevppon the Prince did cut and mangle them at his owne will. Hée then perceiuing the small resistaunce that they made, he came vnto the Chariot, and pulling vp the coue••••ure, hée sawe that there was within it, a dead body all imbaulmed, and on the head of it, there was the Crowne of a King, which head vnto the breast was di∣uided in sunder with some blowe, and he didde repute him for such a one by his royall garmentes, which were all imbrued in bloude. There sate in a Chayre couered with blacke Cipers, at the foote of this dead king, a Gentlewo∣man of a middle age, leaning her chéeke vpon her hande, and her eyes shut, shée bedewed her face and breastes with innu∣merable brinish teares, and néere vnto her there sate another Gentlewoman, who séemed to bée but tenne yeares of age, all wrapped in blacke, which Gentlewoman was so fayre, that she appeared vnto his viewe more diuine then hu∣mane.

The renowmed Grecian Prince with great admiration and no lesse pittie, behelde this sorrowfull sight, and at length the distressed Gentlewoman, opened hir heauie eyes,

and séeing the Knight, knew he was none of hirs. Thervp∣pon with an angrie countenaunce she said vnto him,

Who are you sir Knight which haue bene so bolde as to come and see what is héere without my commaundement? where are my Knights and kéepers which haue not depended you the passage, nor brideled your excéeding boldnesse?

The courte∣ous Grecian who greatly bewailed the sight which he sawe, and the great dolour wherein the Gentlewoman was, hée aunswered hir soberly.

Madame, I am a Knight, whose help if it might stand you in stéede, though it were with hazard of my life, you should finde it readie at your commaundement: and as concerning the gard which haue attended vpon you, they haue done what lay in their power to preuent me, but all could not preuaile.

The Ladie attentiuely heard the spée∣ches of the Knight, and hearing the tidings he deliuered hir of hir Knights, she lifte vp the other side of the couering of her Chariotte, she espied some of hir Knights murthered, other some hurt, & other some all to be trampled vnder the horse feete. After she had seene the great ouerthrowe of hyr Knights, with an angry countenaunce she turned hir to the Knight and sayd:

The Gods send thée a perpetuall plague, sith that in such sort thou hast intreated the best Knights in all my Prouince, and sith that our misfortune hath bene so great that thou hast had the power to vanquish my kéepers, I beséech the Gods, that thy forces héereafter may prooue as weake, as my troupe is now poore and slender. Follow on thy waye, and suffer me to goe mine, with that companie which hath scaped thy cruell hand, what wouldst thou far∣ther learne then that which thou hast alreadie séene? Be∣sides this, my griefes cannot affoord me so much time as to recount them, neither hath thy courtesie wrought in me such good will as to recite them. When she had thus spoken, shée opened one of hir casements, and made signe to the dwarfes which ••idde, that they should whip the horses, which when they had done, they went like the winde, leauing y^e Prince more discontented then he was at the beginning.

And with∣out more tarriance, he continued on his iourney, greatlye

blaming the courtesie of so euill mannered people: and hée trauailed a long time without encountering any thing wor∣thie the recitall, vntill he came vnto the shore of the Sea, wherein he saw a great boat of verye faire workmanship, vpon which he had great delight to looke, yet he did not for∣sake his way, and he had not continued long in riding, but that he heard a womans voyce as he thought, call vnto him: Knight of the Princesse Oliuia, succour this captiue Gentlewoman. At the call héereof, the Knight tourned his head, and gazing on all sides, he coulde not sée who called him in such hast, and so following his waye, hée hearde a∣gayne a newe voyce which sayd vnto him: Knight of Cu∣pide, thou neuer deniedst to anie thy helpe, and wherefore doost thou not succour me. The Prince greatly astonished, tourned himselfe to sée if he could perceiue who called him, which thing when he could not doe, it bred a bitter passion in him. Going forward in his iourney more carefull then hée was, he heard the third time a voice cryeng vnto him. O son of Trebatio, couragious Rosicleer, what is become of that pit∣tie which was wont to dwel within thy valiant heart, towards the succouring of the oppressed Ladies, why dost thou now begin to faile me. When he heard himselfe called by his pro∣per name, it did strike him into a greater dumpe then hée was in before, héerewith imagining that the voyce came foorth of the ship which he sawe at the shore side, hée lighted from his horse, and nimblie leapte into the Boate, and his horse as if he had vnderstanding followed him. They were no sooner in the Boate, but it beganne to cut the Seas with such swiftnesse, as the winde which hath long time bene im∣prisoned in his caue, and could not get forth at anye chinke, & it blewe now in such sort, as Iuno by long intercession in∣treated Eolus, who vntying the chaynes, commaunded the Windes with all their furie to transport the enamored Ae∣neas and his Troyans armie into the deapth of the seas. Ro∣sicleer was greatlye amazed to sée himselfe thus swiftlye conuayed, and sawe not anye in the Boate which so often ••ad cryed to him for succours. Héere wée will leaue speak∣ing

of Rosicleer, and will returne to declare vnto you, the many worthie déedes that his brother did accomplish, suffe∣ring him to ride in his boate, as alreadie hath bene recited vnto you.

¶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.

¶How the Grecian Knight perswaded his vnckle the Prince of Dacia, to accompanie him, & leaue that sorrowfull and desolate life: and of that which af∣ter happened to him. Chapter. 5.

THE ioye that the Princely Knight of the Sunne receiued in finding his Cousin in the pinch where some comforte woulde doo him good, can hardly be héere expressed, es∣pecially for that he knewe him to bée the sonne of the King of Dacia his Unckle (of whome till nowe no mention is made in the booke before) because of the long sicknesse that the King sustained, and therefore was his name concealed, and his valour clow∣ded by meanes of his misfortune, albeit in truth the heroy∣call déedes of his sonne did almost equall his auncestours in euerie degrée, as shall be said héerafter. And as I said before,

The Prince of Dacia remained in a traunce, imbraced be∣tweene the armes of the knight of the Sunne, by reason of the wordes that he spake, yet in the ende he wrought such meanes that he reuiued againe, promising him that if anye thing did lye within the compasse of his power which might bannish his sorrowes, he shoulde finde him readie to per∣forme it, and he would rather die then see him linger his life without anie sparke of comfort. This great kindnesse was friendly receiued by the Dacian Prince, and after many co∣gitations he thought it most conuenient to returne to his Countrie, and also it seemed him best for his most safetie to cut the seas, for beeing vnprouided of a horse, he might fall in∣to some daunger, beeing strongly encountered. Wherevppon without more tarriaunce the Prince armed himselfe with his guilt armour, and girded his swoord close vnto him, and mounted behinde the Prince, and so going where Fortune would guide them, and where the horse made choice of the waie, in the end after a little space they came to the shoare of the sea, where they found a straight and narrowe path, hard by the same, which seemed to them the direct passage to finde some hauen, where they might trauailing imbarke them∣selues, and in this manner as I haue told you, they saw com∣ming towards them in the sea a faire barke well rigged and trimmed, wherin they saw no pilot to gouerne it, but it made directly toward the place, which when the two Princes sawe it came so néere the lande, they alighted, and drawing more néere, there lanched forth a Gentlewoman all alone, in a mild kinde of spéech she spake and sayde vnto them.

Noble Prin∣ces, the wise Lyrgandeo which at this present is resident in Constantinople, commendeth himselfe vnto you both, and by me hath sent you this faire barke, which with his art shall bring you where he hath extreame néede of your valour, and farther he praieth you not to stand in suspition of that which I saie vnto you, for y^e truth is, he hath great occasion to put in proofe your soueraign knighthood.

The knight of the Sun his heart throbbed with ioye to heare the newes which the Gentlewoman tolde him, and especially for that it shoulde

be his good Fortune to doo him pleasure, which loued him so tenderly, and had done so much for him in his childhood, and héerewithall the Dacian Prince leapt into the bark, and after him his noble cousin, leading Cornerino by the bridle, and tourning vnto the Gentlewoman, he saide vnto her on this wise.

I am assured that mine olde and approued friende the wise Lyrgandeo doth fauour me so greatlye, that he will not sée me staide for lacke of a shippe, either to pleasure my selfe or to doe him a good turne. The Gentlewoman hauing done great reuerence, tourned her spéech to Don Eleno and sayd to him.

Ualiaunt and amorous Knight, Lyrgandeo kis∣seth your royall hands, and willed me to tell you that your captiued heart somewhat lately amended shall in the end bée throughly helped, to your no lesse comfort then great ioy, and because your present estate is sorrowful and fraughted with griefe, he sendeth you this armour which is aunswerable to your mourning minde, wrought with a Metaphore, which declareth your passions alreadie passed,

and saying this, shée tooke the trunke wherein the armour was laide, & albeit the Prince made hast to giue the Gentlewoman thankes, shée was so nimble in vanishing awaie, that his thankes came too short, whereat he was more abashed then before. The Knight of the Sunne tying his horse in one part of the ves∣sell, sawe standing by him another more beautifull, the which he knew presently the Gentlewoman had brought for his cousin, and making toward him to sée what armour the wise man had sent him, béeing laide abroad, sawe them wrought all with one worke, LL, and the shéeld was of strong and fine stéele, the field blacke, and therin was set a groue, so liue∣ly as there appeared to be nothing but trées, and lykewise there was wrought in it many fine inuentions, which did te∣stifie to be the artificiall worke of the wise Lyrgandeo. And in the middest amongest those trées there was a fayre Lady shaddowed, apparelled in a straunge attire, in her counte∣naunce

shée was verie sadde, her haire ••littering all a∣bout her eares.

The sight of these strange deuises made the Dacian Prince verie pensiue, and caused him to meruaile much at the great art that was vsed in the framing héereof, it was so dainetely handeled. But in the meane time that these two Princes were thus musing and beholding these straunge things, the shippe slyst the Seas, with a braue gale of winde, and carried them so swiftly that when they called to minde the straungenesse héereof they were greatly astonished. In this wise they sayled sixe dayes, not knowing whether they went, nor whether the shippe would carrie them: neyther could they see anie lande, but they were assured of this, that they were directed by the will of the wise Lyrgandeo. And sayled not towarde Dacia, whereat the Prince Eleno was greatly discomforted, but this griefe was somewhat stayed by the gentle perswasions which the knight of the Sunne vsed.

After the long and wearisome trauaile which these two noble Princes sustained, one morning by the péepe of the daie, they did discouer not farre from the place where they were, the lande, towardes which coast the Shippe say∣led amaine, the Knightes verye ioyfull héereof beganne to arme themselues, with set purpose to land there. Not long after the shippe came to the shoare with such a bottome rush, sticking fast in the sandes, that they thought shée had bene slit in sunder. Which sodaine chaunce made them with all spéede to leape to the lande, assuring themselues that the wise Lyrgandeo had ordeined the staie to be made there, wherefore without tarrying anie longer, they tooke theyr horses and mounted vppon them, and presently after the Prince Eleno made proofe of the goodnesse of his horse, which was sent him by the wise man, and broching his sides with the Spurres, hée founde him verye readye, strong, and light. The noble and worthie Knight of the Sunne his Cousin stoode by and did beholde him,

wondring how comely he backt him and managed him, the hor••e in his iudgement seemed to be of great price, and very swift in coursing, imagining in this sort he alwayes thought that this young Prince was the very portrature of his lo∣uing brother Rosicleer.

These valiant knights not meaning to sléepe out the daie, they vndertooke theyr iourny, and in trauailing they came to a narrowe and straight lane which lead them by the foote of a huge and stéepe mountaine, they had not long rid, but they entered into a broade and rough path, alwayes hoping that the countrey would prooue very pleasaunt and well shadow∣ed to ride in: but after they had tolde all their ••••rds, it fell out contrarie, for it was a champaine so••le destitute of in∣habitauntes, and altogether vnprouided of victualles, which discommodities galled these worthye Princes very greatly, and that which gréeued them most, was, that they knew not whether they went, neither could they méete anie one that might guide them in what place and Countrie they were. Trauailing onwardes they found that this croo∣ked waie was diuided into two broade lanes: And then bée∣ing in a doubt which waie they might take, stood still, and in the end they did determine betwéene them to make a diuisi∣on, the one to take the right hand, and the other the left. And thus these two valiaunt knightes parted the waie betweene them both, béeing right sorrowfull that theyr late acquain∣tance, was so vntimely separated by a crooked lane. The one hauing lost the sight of the other, they rode very sadly, and the Knight of the Sunne trauailed all that daye, and could not happen vpon any path that might guide him to some towne or Uillage. The night wrapping hir selfe in her browne Mantell, made the Grecian alight from his Cornerino, nigh vnto a faire Forrest and gréene meddowe, adorned with all sweete and smelling flowers, and pulling of his bridle he suf∣fered him to féed in the gréene medow. This valiant knight beeing somewhat wearie of the trauaile he had y^e day before, layde himselfe downe vppon the greene and pleasant grasse, to ease his wearie limmes and to passe away the night, wher

he slept vntil such time as the graie morning with the notes of the swéet singing birds awaked him. This valiant Prince béeing start vp, returned vnto his new begun iourney, & tra∣uailed so long, that at the last he came to a verie faire and cleare riuer, and going along by the brinke of the same hée beheld, howe by reason of the calme winde that did blowe, there did arise manye small bubbles in the water, the sight whereof did greatly delight him, vntil such time as he discri∣ed in the same certaine little streames and droppes of bloud, at the view wherof he was striken into a meruaiolus admi∣ration, and the farther he went, the streames did more plain∣ly shew forth the skarlet coulour thereof, in such sort, y^t the cléere and christalline water had lost his naturall coulour, & was changed into a crimosin, which strange and vnacquain∣ted case procured the noble knight of the Sunne to bée halfe amazed, and meruailed greatly whereof should procéede such abundance of this bloudie water. And hauing an earnest de∣sire to knowe the head spring of the riuer, and the occasion thereof, he caused his horse to hast his pase somewhat more fast, alwaies hauing an eie to the waie from whence y^e blou∣die streames descended, but in the end he lost the sight there∣of, by reason of a little hill which was betwéene him and the riuer, and there he was constrained to take another path, which did leade him vnto the toppe of the saide hill, which in truth was not farre distaunt from the brooke or Riuer, And when he came to the toppe of this hill, he beheld there a piller of Marble stone artificiallye wrought and firmelye fixed in the ground. Upon the highest part of the piller, there was fastened a chaine, whereat hanged a very faire table of Cipers woode, and therein was written certayne wordes, which this noble Knight began to read, the contents were as followeth.

TO the Knight or Damosell, whose frowarde & peruerse fortune shall lead this waye, I desire thee not to proceede any farther, but to retourne againe: for true it is, that heere thou canst finde no other fauour but death, with oblation of

thy bloud, in memorie of that sacrifice, which once Queene Arcalanda made, who slewe hir selfe with hir owne proper hands, and sharpe two edged sword, vsing the greatest cruel∣tie that euer was heard of, both to hir selfe, and to me Brami∣doro King of Sardenna: for she at once wrought hir owne hastie and vntimely death. And I liue still, yet for hir vnhap∣pie end, through exceeding sorrow, euer dieng.

Little account did the valiant Knight of the sonne make of these threatning words, which were there written, but way∣ed them as winde, and as one desirous to see the end of this so straunge an aduenture, not regarding the perill thereof, he tooke his iourney forwards, determining to come againe to the waters side. So long he trauailed y^• at last he came to a little Temple, that was very curiously wrought, erect∣ed to the vse of the greatest crueltie that euer was heard off. Néere vnto that Temple he sawe foure dead bodies, whose heads were cut of, and as it appeared by theyr apparell, two of them were Knights, and the other two Damosells, then casting his eyes a side towards a faire & gréene field which was harde by, he behelde a great number of heades, which were the heades of those that had ben slaine, amongst which were the foure heads of the newe slaine bodies, that hée be∣fore found dead, for the fresh bloud did as yet runne out vp∣pon the ground. This lamentable spectacle, this noble Greek beheld, with such surpassing sorrow, as almost no heart can comprehend: but béeing rauished as it were with desire, to be resolued of the effect of this so monstrous inhumanitie, he procéeded farther, till at length he approched the Temple, where he discouered a posterne dore to be open, and incon∣tinent alighting from his horse with a heroycall courage, being incensed with anger, he rushed in, hoping there to haue found the homicide, which was the chiefe auctor of this tra∣gicall crueltie. Béeing entred, the first thing that appeared to his view, was a verie faire Altar curiously wrought, and vpon it the dead figure of a verie faire Ladie, through whose bodie was thrust, a terrible two edged sworde, likewise at

the foote of the same Altar, was another figure of a huge and mightie Giant, being ten cubi••es in height, all meruailous curiously wrought in Alabaster with straunge and subtil de∣uises, who knéeled with both his knées on the earth. This noble Knight was very much amazed, at y^e sight of so strāge a matter, and yet not satisfied, he went into a little Court•• there adioyning, & found that it was all hanged with blacke cloathes, which represented great sadnesse and sorrowe, and in those clothes was figured diuers dead men and women. Hard at the foote of the foresaid Altar was made fast in the earth, euen to the brimme thereof, a sesterne of leade, into which the bloud of those that were slaine, and their heades cut off in sacrifice, was poured, and out of the same ••esterne it was conuayed vnder the earth by a gutter very secretely, the which went vnto the Riuer, whereof we spake before: & this was the same bloud, which the valyant Prince did see, in the channell of the riuer, euen the bloud of the four head∣lesse bodies that he found newly slaine. On the other side of the Altar he sawe an olde man with a faire white bearde, sitting in a chaire, who leaned his aged head vppon his lefte hand, and his elbowe vppon the chaire side, whose eyes wer shut, and his countenaunce so sad, that it appeared ther was in him no comfort, but onely great sorow and mournings. This valiant Greeke who greatlye desired to vnderstande the ende of this sorrowfull antecedent, approched vnto the sléeping old man, & pulling him by his apparell for to awake him, this carefull old man presently lifte vp his eyes, & with out any delay or farther demaund he said.

O gentle & noble ••night, what crooked fortune hath brought thée into this per∣uerse & accursed place, wherein is exercised so much sorrow∣full impietie, and wheras thou maist expect no other thing, but death, by the hands of the most cruell Giaunt that euer thou hast heard of, take therefore my counsell, & returne the way thou camest, & that spéedely before thou be espied, for otherwise it will be hard for thée to escape from death. Then the worthie knight of the Sunne answered and said. I giue thée great thankes for thy counsell (good Father) ne∣uerthelesse

I request thée to declare vnto me the cause, for that as yet being ignorāt of farther peril, thou séemest to perswade me to so great a feare.

To whom the olde man replied, for y^• thou séemest vnto mee to be of an incomperable perfection & exceeding force. I will not let to declare vnto thée with as great breuitie as I may this tragicall matter, whereby thou maist well perceiue the singular profit that thou shalt receiue in following this my counsell which I haue giuen thée, and so with a sadde ••nd heauie countenaunce, mixed with many salte and bitter teares distilling downe from his aged eyes, he began in this wise and sayd.

This countrey wherein thou now art, is that auncient and famous kingdome of Tinacria, which not long since, was gouerned by one of the most puissaunt Kings that euer raigned therein, or in any Prouince héereabout: but death, by his accustomed furie, depriued him of his life, and all his loyall subiects, of a vertuous and louing Lord, leauing the guiding of the Kingdome, in the power of two very fayre and Angelicall damosels, his daughters, who represented the former vertues of their noble & late deceased father. The el∣dest of thē was named Arcalanda, & the youngest Garasilea. Not long after the death of the king their Father, this fayre Arcalanda was requested of loue by the king of Sardenna, whose name is Bramidoro, a gyant of huge and mightie big∣nesse, (as by the stature which thou doest héere sée) thou maist easily suppose: but this vertuous quéene not onely denied her consent in marriage, but also to heare the message of the em∣bassadours, and would in no wise sée them, so that they re∣turned without any answere. Then this Giant séeing y^e great disdaine and small account that the Quéene made of him, and how little she estéemed of his loue, béeing more infla∣med with furie then any other reason, and trusting in his incomperable strength, with fiue hundred knightes he trans∣ported to Tinacria, and landing in the Port of Saragosa, he there beganne to make knowen his vnmercifull crueltie, hoping that he shoulde obtaine that by force, which by faire meanes he could not winne. The Knights of Tinacria, like

true and faithfull subiectes obeied the commaundement of their noble Quéene, and made diuerse and sundrie valiaunt skirmishes with the Knightes of the Gyant: but by reason of his great force and surpassing strength, they were alwaies constrained to retire to the Citie, not without much losse: for that this Gyant had in his companie to aide him a brothers sonne of his, who in valiance & force of armes equalled well néere his vnkle. And in such sort they mainteined the wars, y^t in small time they put the citie in great perill to be lost, and likewise the whole kingdome. The knights & subiects of this noble quéene Arcalanda, not able long to resist y^e Gyants for∣ces, & seeling themselues meruailously oppressed & in great di∣stresse, began to perswade with their quéene y^t she should ac∣cept his demaund▪ and graunt to marrie the aforesaid gyant. Then this vnfortunate Ladie vnderstanding the feeblenesse of her subiects forces, and the effect of that which they had declared vnto her, and féeling in her selfe such impossibilitie to accomplish the demaund of the gyant, that the accepting of it would be more gréeuous vnto her then to receiue y^• death, she remained for a time in so déepe a studie, (being confoun∣ded as it were by her owne conceits,) that she could neither giue aunswere vnto them, nor yet declare anie thing of her minde: But in the end lifting vp her angelicall face, with a chéerefull and merrie countenaunce, she sayde after this sort.

My renowmed and well approued knightes, it is a verie greate thing to perswade, naye rather to force my owne will to the fulfilling of your requestes. The pure and chast Goddesse Diana doth wel know the great wrong that I shal commit against her, in not performing y^• vow which I haue promised vnto her long since: neuerthelesse the consideration of your loiall fidelities hath taken ••uch déepe root & impression in my heart, that I am more carefull of your safeties, then of the vowe which I haue made vnto the chast Goddesse Dia∣na, wherefore I am determined with all spéede to accepte his offer.▪ Therefore out of hande let messengers be dis∣patched vnto the king of Sardenna, to aske and demaunde

of him truce for the next daie following, ••o the intent that I maie make some publyke sacrifice, as well to appease the wrath which the chast goddesse Diana may conceiue against me, as to satisfie my owne heart, for not fulfilling my vow: so incontinently without anie more delaie the Knightes dis∣patched a messenger vnto the king, giuing him to vnderstand of all that hadde passed, and the determination of theyr Quéene. The exceeding great comfort that this king did re∣ceiue thereat, the time will not permit to declare vnto thée, but with right good acceptation of the truce he graunted to all that was demaunded, and moreouer proffered himselfe to be present at the same sacrifice. The next morning when that Phoebus with his golden beames did scarcelye appeare, they beganne to prepare all thinges in readinesse for the sacrifice) (which hath since beene the occasion of so manie inhumane sacrifices,) and in the midde waye betwixt the Citie and the Campe of the Sardenians, they erected a scaffolde all co∣uered with cloth of golde verie rich, and vpon the Scaffolde about the middle thereof was placed a faire table couered also with a carpet of cloth of golde, and vpon it a chafindish of coales burning. This being done, there was straight wayes hearde a swéete and harmonious sounde of clarions and Trumpettes, and sundrie other kinde of instrumentes, these went before the people, and next vnto them wer•• brought fiftéene rammes, all adorned with fine white wooll: and after them followed fiue Bulls, with huge and mighty•• hornes, beeing all black of haire: and after them there fol∣lowed fiue kine, and with them a certaine number of the Priests of Diana, singing theyr accustomed songes in the ho∣nour of Diana: then followed a greate companie of knights all armed with strong armour & bright, without any other deuice: and after them came the Marques of Modique, bringing in his hands the image of Diana, and on either side of him two Knights of great estimation, each of them bea∣ring in theyr handes greate vessells of golde full of most precious and swéete Wine. Then after all this came the beautifull Quéene Arcalanda, apparelled with a roabe of

state, béeing of great and inestimable value. And with this ceremonie they went vppon the Scaffolde, where the Mar∣ques placed the image of Diana, behinde the Chafingdish of coales that was there burning: and the Priestes continued still singing theyr songs, which customablie they vsed in the lyke sacrifices, drinking of the precious Wine that the two Knightes did bring in the golden vessells, and all at once they brought lowe the stout and vntamed neckes of the Bulles, and the rest of the other beastes by cutting theyr throates, whose bloud they sprinkled all about the Sacrifice, and ope∣ning theyr bowells they tooke out the inwarde partes, with the call on the liuer, and put them vppon the Chafindish of burning coales, and with this slaughter they did make sacri∣fice vnto the chaste Goddesse Diana, and the Priestes fell downe flat vppon theyr breasts on the earth, and so ended theyr sacrifice. At the sight of this ceremonie was present the king of Sard••nna, and his cousin, his brothers sonne, both armed with all their armour, and verie attentiue to this that I haue tolde you. The Sacrifice ended, this vnfortunate Quéene commaunded silence to bée made, and all the com∣panie béeing stilled, shée raised vp her selfe vppon her feete, and with a heauie voice distilling manie salte teares, shee sayd.

O most excellent and chast Diana, in whose blessed bo∣some the chast and vndefiled virginnes doe recreate them∣selues. Unto thy diuine excellencie I doe commende these my last Sacrifices, crauing recorde of all the Gods, that I haue procured and done my best, & yet still doo, for euer to bée thine: for whose sake O mightie Iupiter, I know not how thou doest consent that I by force shoulde loose that, which thou by thy omnipotencie and almightie Deitie, oughtest to kéepe and defende: and not to suffer that I thus should bée compelled to deliuer my body into the power of him which with all tyrannie woulde séeke to haue the vse of the same. And neuerthelesse if to this I doo not consent and agree, beholde the vtter ruine and sorrowfull destruction both of my selfe and also of all my true and faythfull

••ubiects approcheth, the which procéedeth onely by meanes of my beautie. Oh sacred Diana, is it possible that thou dost consent, that so worthie a Damosell, descended from so noble a race, and nourished in this my Countrie, shoulde procure to spot the worthinesse of hir predecessours, without respect∣ing my beautie, or regarding the chast vowe that vnto thée I made, but that I must needes violate my selfe against all humane nature. Well, seeing it is so, I am content, and be∣séech thée to receiue the solempnitie of this my death, which I offer in sacrifice vnto thy Deitie: for me thinke there is no reason, that one infortunate Ladie as I am, should bée the occasion, that such a noble Kingdome as this is, shoulde be brought to ruine and decaye. Oh my louing subiects, by you I am constrayned to surrender my selfe vnto him, who cannot chuse but intreate you ill, and indamage my Coun∣trey, which thing is contrarie to all our expectations: in consideration whereof, I am héere constrained with my own trembling hande, to cut off the florishing braunches of these my dayes: for this I sweare vnto you my deare and faithful subiects, that I had rather offer my soule into the societie & sacred bosome of Diana, than to yéelde my selfe vnto this de∣formed figure. And thou King of Sardenna, y^e greatest tyrant amongst tyraunts, beholde héere I yeeld vnto thée my body to vse according to thy will and pleasure, requesting onely this one thing of thée, (if ther be any pitie or mercie in thée) considering that thou inioyest that which thy heart desired, that thou sufferest these my louing subiects to liue in peace, wherefore come now I say, and receiue that which is thine. And thou O chast Diana, accept likewise that which with so much bloud I offer vnto thee. And in finishing this sor∣rowfull speach, she drewe out a faire and bright shining sword, which she had hidden secretly vnder her gowne, and putting the hilte vpon the scaffolde, (little looked for of all those that were present) she sodaynly threwe hir selfe vppon the poynt of the sayd sword, so that not all that were there, could deliuer hir, for y^e poynt passed through hir body in such sort, (as thou dost see heere by this figure portratured) ren∣dring

hir soule to hir tuition, vnto whom she offered hir sa∣crifice. What should I héere declare the lamentable sorowes and pitifull lamentation that was there made for this vn∣happie mischaunce, committed in the sight of all the people, I say it was such that the woodes eccoed, and their pitifull shrikes ascended to the heauens: but none was more galled with griefe, then the afflicted Giant, who rose vp, and like a man distraught fomed at the mouth, and roaring with horri∣ble cries lyke an infernall creature, in great furie he rushed amongst the people throwing them downe on euerie side, till he came vpon the scaffolde, and approching to the dead body of the damosell, he tooke hir in his armes, and with a terri∣ble and fearfull voyce he sayd. Oh my beloued ioy and earst my onely hearts delight. Is this the desired sacrifice, where∣in through thy desperatenes thou hast deceiued me? who lo∣ued thée more then my selfe. Is this y^e truce thou requiredst for one day only, therein to conclude both thy death, & mine also. Oh noble Quéene, and my beloued Lady, if this were thy intent, why didst thou not first sacrifice me thy seruant and loue, wholly subiected vnto thy beautie. Woe be vnto thee thou vnfortunate King of Sardenna, that for thy fault & lack of looking too, thou hast lost hir, whom thou madest La∣die of thy hart. O ill graunted truce, whereby my hart hath lost that, (yea without all hope of recouerie) wherein onelye it had lately rest. O Diana, is it not sufficient, that they doo worship and honour thée, but that thou wilt haue all goodnes to consist in ielousie? Tarrie therefore, for I will make that thy determined purpose shall mitigate thy mallice, and thy owne deuice shall be thy destruction: for I vowe by the d••∣uine Iupiter, because thou hast permitted this detestable act, that so long as I liue, thou shalt not be worshipped for the chast Diana, but Arcalanda in thy stéed shall be adored. I wil procure moreouer to diminish thy name, yea, vtterly to ex∣tinguish it, so that there shal be no more memorie remaining of thée, for that thy blondie tyrannie doth deserue no lesse. What shall I more speake (gentle and noble Knight) of the anguish and deadly sorrowe that the King sustained, for no

sooner had he deliuered these speaches, incensed with furie, he set his hand to his sword, & ouerthrew the image of Diana, that was there, & parted it in two parts: and yet not content with this sacriligious fact, he descended from the scaffolde, exclaiming against the sorrowfull Tinacrian people, and sai∣eng: O villaines and traitors, it is not possible but that all you were consenting vnto this cruell fact, and determined euil. And vttering these and such like reasons, in his diuelish furie, he began to flourish with his sword cutting, killing, and wounding on euery side, with such vnmercifull crueltie, that in a small time there did not remaine one of all them, that were there present, but I alone: and by reason that I was one of the Priests of Diana, he saued my life, although he little esteemed it. Then when this fierce and bloudie di∣uell did sée that all were slaine, and that we two onely re∣mained, he tooke the dead Quéene in his armes, & commaun∣ded me to follow him with my praiers and orisons accusto∣med vnto Diana, and bringing hir to this place, he strayght wayes commaunded this Chappell to be buylded, in this order as you now sée, and promised by vowe vnto all the Gods, to sacrifice euery wéeke sixe persons, naturally borne in the lande of Tinacria, thrée men, and thrée women, in sa∣tisfaction of the bloudie sacrifice that they consented to be of∣fered by their deceased Quéene. And it is now two months past, since they haue vsed this tyrannie: and it is not onely he that doth persecute the poore people of Tinacria, but hée hath also to farther him in this his diuelish determination, his brothers sonne, being of like cruell disposition as him∣selfe. And in this sorte doo these two hell-houndes exercise themselues in this detestable murder, insomuch that the Ci∣tie is almost left desolate, and there remaineth verye fewe which doth maintaine the warres. And you shall vnderstand moreouer (gentle Knight) that the Citie is so strong, that it is not possible to win the same, neither by force of armes, neither by hunger or any other ingen, for that it is so well furnished with munition and vittailes: yet in the citie there are but a small number of Knights, which for their great fi∣delitie

and loue vnto their Countrie, haue not lefte it deso∣late, but doo defend it to the vttermost of their powers. Ne∣uerthelesse to the iudgement of all men, although for a time they doe neuer so politikely defend and make resistaunce a∣gainst their enimies, yet in the ende they shall be driuen to yéelde and to render themselues: for that in two battayles which the people of the Iland haue had, the diuelish Gyaunt hath had y^e victorie, so that now they remaine in great feare, for that the strength of these two tyrants, is incredible to be tolde. Now héere (gentle Knight) I haue declared vnto thée that which thou so greatly didst desire to knowe, requesting thée to returne backe againe, he way that thou didst come, & to kéepe thy self from féeling the euent of this expressed euil.

The noble Prince which with strange attension gaue care vnto this sorowfull Priest, béeing fullye determined to ad∣venture his lyfe for to violate this cruell and wicked cu∣stome, answered, (not according to the counsell the which he gaue him, but according vnto his couragious determinati∣on,) saying. Friend, where is (I beséech thée) the abiding of this vnmercifull giant, & which is the way y^t leadeth thether. The old Priest replied, His Castle is two leagues distaunt from this temple: but what shall it auaile thée to know the same? & what profit wilt thou get by going thether, but only death: but if thou wilt néedes aduenture thy selfe, the same which brought thée hether, is y^e direct way thether, for other there is none. Moreouer, the valiant prince demanded of him if he could aduertise him how many knights & what store of people the Gyant had about him, and he aunswered that the most part of them that wer about him were seruants, & that all the rest of his knightes and men of warre, were placed in other castles and fortes of the Iland. And while they were occupied in this cōmunication, they heard without the chap∣pell horsemen, as it appeared by the treading and noyse of their horses. Wherefore to vnderstand what they were, they staid their talk, & the prince issued out of y^e chappell, where he found sixe knights, armed w^t verie good & strong armor, who were alighting from their horses to enter into y^e chappel, but

when these knightes espyed the Prince so well proportio∣ned and of so good disposition, & with his armour of strange deuice contrarie vnto theirs, then one of those sixe knightes which séemed to haue more authoritie then the rest, sayd. Oh Knight, what infernall furie hath hardned thée to aduen∣ture hether, knowing the custome which is vsed héere. But it séemeth vnto me that rather ignorance is the occasion héere∣of, more then anie other thing, wherefore I am content to let thée depart againe vpon condition, that thou leauest with me thy armour and thy horse (if it be thine to giue) for that they doo greatly delight me. This valiant Prince dissembling his anger, with a very merrie and smiling countenance made an∣swere.

You haue sayd true, y^e ignorance hath brought me hether, for y^t I am a straunger in this countrie, and neuer vnderstood that anie such crueltie hath ben vsed héere till now, that this good olde man hath tolde mée. But to giue thée my armour▪ I am not determined at this time, for that I am not accusto∣med to trauaile without it. And as for my horse, I doo insure thée that he will let none take his backe but my selfe, there∣fore it were best thou aske some other thing, for that in this I pretend not to accomplish thy request. They vnderstanding the wordes which the Prince aunswered vnto them, one of the sixe knights pretending more hardinesse then all the rest, replyed. I will sée how thou canst defend thy horse, and with that he went to laie hande on the horse bridle, which he had not so soone proffered, when the fierce horse opened his mouth and with great furie he caught him by the shoulder, and lift him vp from the ground, and in his fall he all to trampled & troade him in péeces, and so slew him. At the which this no∣ble Prince could not refraine from laughing, and merrilye sayd.

In this sorte doth my horse rewarde them that bée so bolde and hardie of enterprise. Then the Knight which did first speake vnto the Prince, sayde vnto him with excéeding great anger. I doo promise thée for certaintie, that this great disorder and outrage which thy horse against my companion

hath done shall cost thée thy lyfe: And on a sodaine another of the fiue knightes which remained drew out his swoorde, thinking to haue cut off the horse legs, but this expert horse with great lightnesse shunned the blowe, and on a sodayn•• rose on his hinder féete, and with his fore féete he played so with his helme, that he broke it all to péeces and threwe the knight dead to the grounde: the which fact did greatlye a∣mase these knights of Sardenna. Thē the noble Prince with a pleasant semblaunce said. I am afraide that if in this sort you battayle with my horse, he will in y^e end deliuer me frō all danger of the losse of my armour. Then this other knight hearing these wordes, which he tooke to be a greate reproch vnto him, béeing almost ouercom with anger, in a great fu∣rie and rage he drew out his sword, and flourishing it about his head, he saide. The greate outrage which thy horse hath héere done, (as I before said) thou shalt spéedely repay with the losse of thy lyfe, and vttering these words, he smote the Prince vppon the helme so vehemently and with such cou∣rage, that the very sparkes of fire sprong out, & fell burning to y^e ground. This noble prince féeling y^• blowe not looked for, determined that that miserable knight should not go vnpaied for his good deede, least he should praise himselfe for dooing it, but with great•• anger and furie he stroke the knight such a blowe a little aboue the wast, that it almost parted him in two péeces, so that he fell downe dead to the ground. Then the other thrée Knights séeing this terrible and vnmercifull blowe, made no tarr••eng, but all at once fell vpon y^e prince, doubling their blowes to bring him to his ende, that it was wonderfull to sée, but this worthie Knight, who lyttle estée∣med of such daungers, stroke one of them so harde vppon the head, that he cut him downe to the breast, & he fell downe dead vpon his other companion. And tourning to another, at one blowe he parted his shéeld in péeces, & cut off his arme frō his shulder. Then the other knight which remained aliue, séeing his cōpanions to be so ill intreated by one only knight, thought it best to saue his life by trusting to his legs, rather then to repose any confidence in his prowesse, for that hée

thought it would little preuaile him, and betaking him to his feete, he fledde awaie: Of whome this noble Prince made small account, but let him go, the olde priest of whom we be∣fore spoke, was present and beheld all that had happened, and meruailed verie much at the great prowesse of the vnknow∣en Knight. And this noble Prince seeing himselfe cléere of them that would haue done him wrong, retourned vnto the Priest and asked him if he hadde anie thing that he might eate, and requested him to let him haue it, for that he hunge∣red and had great néede thereof. Then this Priest gaue him such meate as he hadde for himselfe, still perswading the Prince for to returne againe the same way hee came, and not to put himselfe, into that so daungerous and terrible an ad∣uenture, but this heroycal prince made little reckoning of his requests, but giuing him great thanks for the good entertain∣ment he gaue him, he tooke his leaue of him, & went the same which lead way towards the castle where the giaunt dwelt, & trauailing by little & little with an easie foote pace, he anone had a sight thereof, and perceiued that it was verie fayre to behold, and walled about verie strongly, which he beheld not long, but that he harde a Trumpet sound with meruailous sweete melodie, and at the sound thereof there looked out of a window a gyant, being a yong man of great & large bignes, & comely in all parts accordingly, his face was verie ire••ull to looke on, but not ill fauoured, but rather séemed to be ador∣ned with a senere kinde of grauitie. This Gyant looking that way where this noble Gréeke was, he asked him with a high and mightie huge voice.

Knight, what doest thou héere so securely séeke, and what wouldest thou haue, not respecting this my vnfortunate and vnhappie custome, but without anie feare thereof thou ap∣prochest hether, presenting thy selfe of thy own free will to be sacrificed. But this worthie Gréeke in the meane time that the Gyant spoke these wordes did contemplate himselfe in beholding the huge making and the greate strength that did appeare hée hadde by the proportion of his members. And placing his words with great discreation he answered

and sayd. I come to demand battaile of thée O King, not for that thou hast at anie time gréeued mée, or giuen mee cause, but onelye to take awaye and frustrate (if it bée possible) this euill and di••ellish custome which thou maintainest, or else to loose my lyfe in the quarrall, therefore if thou do∣est thinke good to procéede in this thy hellish pretence, take thy armour and arme thy selfe and come foorth, and heere in this fielde I will abide thy comming, where I hope by the fauour of almightie God, that with thy death thou shalt paye héere the tribute of all this tyrannie which thou hast vsed.

The Gyaunt remained still at the windowe be∣holding this worthie Grecian Knight, for that hée séemed vnto him to bée a Knight of greate valour and prowesse, (by his comelie proportion, and by the deuises that hée had in his armour hee séemed to bée a straunger) with a familiar countenance he sayd.

I would somewhat replie vnto these thy wordes, but because thou shalt not saie I speake lyke a Thrush in a cage, I will referre it till such time as I am with thée in the fielde, if thou darest to abide my comming. And so without anie more speaking he withdrewe himselfe from the win∣dowe, and with a terrible voice hée called for his armour, in the meane time this noble Greeke did peruse his harnesse in all partes that it was well, for it was néedfull, as héereafter you shall heare.

¶Of the terrible battaile that this Grecian Prince had with the Gyant, and of all the aduentures that chanced in the said battaile. Chap. 6.

THis worthie Grecian knight lifting vp his heart and eies vnto heauen, craued fauour and helpe of almightie God, requesting his aide against so great and terrible an aduer∣sarie, and being thus in his praier he sodein∣ly heard a great noise & well consorted sound of Trumpets, the which made melodious and swéet harmo∣nie, and not long after this the gate of the castle was opened,

where out issued the Gyant at all pointes armed with ve∣rie rich armour of fine stéele, and vppon his right shoulder a great clubbe barred with yron of a huge weight, and at his girdell a verie bigge and broade swoord, and about his necke there hanged a rich and strong Shielde, whereon was portratured the same deuise which he sawe on the Altar in the Chappell. In his demeanour, he showed himselfe to bée valiant, and with a gentle countenaunce he came towardes the place whereas the Knight abode. All this, the noble and courteous Greeke did stedfastly beholde, and prayed God, that of his mercie he would abolish this euill custome that he did maintaine, and that he would giue him grace to ac∣knowledge his error wherein he had transgressed, and that he might be conuerted vnto the knowledge of y^e true faith, for that it was great pitie, to sée so much crueltie remaine, in so noble & worthie a personage, as he was, or in so well proportioned a bodie as he séemed to haue, and thus this no∣ble prince remained in beholding his personage till such time as the Gyaunt drew nigh vnto him, who without shewing anie defiaunce or countenaunce of pride, saide.

I be∣leeue (gentle Knight) that this my presence hath put thée in some feare of my force, therfore for that thou séemest to be a knight well disposed & of great valor, I yeelde vnto thée the battaile. And if so be thou mistrust thy power, I giue thee lisence to return from whence thou camest, or else if thou so please, to remaine with me in my companie. But this valy∣ant Greeke as one nothing daunted, without moouing of his countenaunce aunswered and sayd: Doe not thou thinke O king, that the bignesse of thy bodie, although it shew thee to be of great strength, maketh me in anie part either to mer∣uaile or feare, for that my swoord hath bene accustomed to a∣bate the courage of diuerse such as thou art, but that which maketh me most to muse, is, y^• god hath suffred thee so long time to exercise this crueltie. And againe, that thou being a∣dorned with so gentle disposition and courage, vnto my see∣ming conformable, wouldest maintaine so cruell a custome, without either feare of God, or regard of his lawes. Neuer∣thelesse

considering thou hast no knowledge of the true God, but of other fained Gods, I doo not so greatly muse that thou hast followed thine owne appetite so much, but take my counsaile, and bestow not this thy great strength and force in the seruice of those euill Gods, but turne vnto my God, and in his defence and faith (which is the right faith) exercise these thy good giftes, with the which he hath endowed thée, and if thou wilt thus doo, I will take thée for my friend and kéepe thy companie, for that thou ••éemest vnto me to be of so good a disposition, & one y^• doth well deserue to be had in reputatiō. For verely, it is conuenient (worthy King) that thou leaue this crueltie which thou dost héere vse, béeing so farre diffe∣rent from natures rule, and to forget this seruice which thou doost vnto the Diuell, which is the onelye willer of this damnable worke: and so reforming thy life, I would wish thée to become a christian. For I promise thée it doth not a little gréeue me, that so worthie a knight as thou art▪ should through vnbeléefe perish and be dampned: and if alreadie thou haue anie remorse in conscience, or perseuerance of this my spéech, accept my counsell I request thée, which if thou doo, I promise thée to be alwaies thine, and by firme frindship to vnite my selfe vnto thy fellowshippe. Contrariwise, if thou persist in this thy pretended tyrannie▪ prepare thy selfe, (and that spéedely) vnto battaile, whereby thou shalt perceiue how smally I feare thy force, (as thou doest fondly suppose.)

The Gyaunt which was verie attentiue vnto all that the Prince had vttered, replied in this wise.

Before we beginne our battaile (sir Knight) let me request this little sute of thée, which is, that thou vnfolde to me thy name, forasmuch as by thy comly proportion thou séemest to descend from some no∣ble progenie, and by thy behauiour to be of no lesse prowesse then authoritie: the one arguing in thée no small valour in fight, the other no little eloquence to subuert thy foe. The heroycall Prince discréetly marking with what sober aduise∣ment he deliuered these speaches, with no lesse mildensse, re∣turned vnto him this answere, saying. Forasmuch as I will not in anie respect be accounted either quarellous by concea∣ling

an answere, or disdainful by denying thy request, vnder∣stand then (O King of Sardenna) y^t I am a Grecian borne, & named the Knight of the Sunne, sonne vnto the renowmed Emperour Trebatio, and brother vnto the inuincible Rosi∣cleer, whose courage as yet was neuer quailed in fight, ney∣ther hethertoo hath my heart bene vanquished by any force: for although as yet I haue detracted time, by meanes of this my conference, it hath not bene for any conceiued feare, but the onely griefe of my conscience, which is not a little afflic∣ted with sorrowe, to sée so worthy a personage as thou art, so impiously to lead thy life: admonishing thée friendlye to forsake thy former wickednesse, and to reuoke the abhomi∣nable sentence of thy frowarde will: & séeing I haue both answered thy demaund, & thou vnderstandest my desire, I would faine be certified whether thou wilt accepte mée for thy friend, or defie me as thy foe: that either by thy subuer∣sion we may fauourably conclude, or by thy persisting, pro∣céede to the combat: for although for thy sake I chiefly wish for peace, yet for mine owne part, I am indifferent. Great is the ioye (aunswered the Giant,) that I conceiue at the sight of thée, whose worthinesse is so much wondred at through∣out the world, and to the ende I may both trye thy famous strength, and thou feele my renowmed force, I accept y^e bat∣taile, with this condition, that if by thée I be now vanquish∣ed, I will not onely in my armour blaze forth the honour of my conquerour, but for euer héerafter I wil submit my selfe willingly to thy commaundement: and if my Fortune be so friendly that I subdue thée, thou shalt in satisfactiō leaue vn∣to me, the thing thou most likest: which is my life aunswe∣red this noble Prince, as a due rewarde for my weakenesse. That were much more then I would willingly request (re∣plyed the Giant): but if, (which indéede is doubtfull) thou escape my handes, thy horse shall suffice me, if likewise hée féele not my furie, in that (as I suppose) he is of so singu∣lar properties.

If thou obtaine the victorie (aunswered the Prince) I

promise thée my horse, which I will héere in safe••ye leaue, both for that if thou winne him thou shalt be sure to inioy him: and also for that I neuer vse in anye battell to fight with aduantage. Wherewith, with no lesse agilitie then cou∣rage, he lefte the saddle, and drawing out his sword, coura∣giously he sayd: Giant, prepare for thy defence, for beholde me readie to beginne the fight: and therewithall hée gaue him so furious an ouerthwart blowe vppon the waste, that the sparkes of fire fell burning to the grounde, and the strength of the stroke constrained the Giant, to stagger side¦warde, thrée or foure steppes, deceiuing him for that time of the daungerous blowe, which with his peysaunt clubbe he had prouided to indaunger the Prince.

But when he felte this course intertainment, his cholar double increasing, hée lyghtlye recouered, and lifting his clubbe aboue his head, he determined to repaye the Prince with such vnresonable in∣terest, that at that one blowe hée woulde ende the battayle: (which in déede if in the descending, it hadde lighted on the Gréeke, it hadde not a little indaungered him). But the no∣ble Prnce béeing of no lesse prowesse then experience, and nothing vnacquainted with such skirmishes, hauing an eye to the maine, by the nimblenesse of his bodie made waye for the blowe, which without harming him, fell to the grounde with such terrible furye, that it caused a re∣sounding Eccho, in the woodes and mountaynes there ad∣ioyning.

The valyaunt Knight of the Sunne, greatlye misliking so monstrous a weapon as that ••lubbe was, determined (with as much spéede as possiblye he might) to delyuer himselfe from the daunger thereof, and before the Gyaunt coulde recouer another blowe with the same, he strake a∣gaine at his handes, with so great force and incredible fu∣rie, that he cut his heauie clubbe a sunder, and moreouer if he had followed his blowe, both clubbe and handes had ••allen to the ground: Then when the Giant remained with no more then a yeard of his club in his hand, much meruai∣ling thereat, he threw the rest at him with such rage, that it

whisteled in the ayre, but the knight perceiuing the troncho•• to approch, stepped aside and let it passe by, and closing with him, with the strength of his Herculine arme he stroke him such a blowe vpon the thigh that the harnesse brake all to péeces, although they were excéeding strong, and wounded him vppon the thigh, which wounde although it were not much, yet the aboundaunce of bloud that ranne from it did greatly trouble him. The Giant séeing himselfe so ill intreated, with a wonderfull and outragious furie, gaue ter∣rible & fearfull shrikes, and out of his helmet issued foorth a thicke smoake, and therewith he drew out his huge & broad•• swoord, and shrouded himselfe vnder his strong shéelde, and began with great furie to redouble his strokes vppon the knight, the which the noble Prince with greate nimblenesse defended him from. Now héere began y^e brauest & best fought battaile that euer was séene betwéene two knightes, there might you beholde the whole strength and valiantnesse of gi∣ants, there might you perceiue all the prowesse of knighthood, with euery policy vsed in armes, ther might you sée how these two knights pressed one vpon another, and procured one to hurt another, and also to warde the cruell blowes, y^t the one bestowed on the other: there might you view the sparks of fire like lightening flash from their terrible strokes, and the péeces of harnesse flying in the aire, hauing no compassion the one of the others paines, but each one séeking to haue the vauntage of his enimie, trauesing grounde from one place to another, that it was right wonderfull to beholde, and howe lyke two ramping Lyons they endured for the space of two houres, without receiuing anie rest, neither could it be percei∣ued that anie of them both did faint, but rather the longer they fought, the more their furie kindled and their strength augmented, of the which the Gyant much meruailed, and fée∣ling the great force of his aduersarie which was before him, was not a little amazed, but that which most gréeued him, was, that he could not fasten one blowe to his contentment vpon his enimie, for which cause hée beganne to exclaime agaynst his Gods, but especiallye agaynst Mars, for tha••

hée was perswaded, that hée was descended from Hea∣uen, to make that combat with him, whereby to worke his destruction. And therewith his furie double increasing, with an infernall anger, he multiplied his blowes with so great hast and strength, that he caused the Gréeke, to bestur him∣selfe from one place to another to make his defence: but he as one which was not idle, but by these means the more inflamed, letting slip the bridle of all patience, his valiant & heroycall courage double increased, and his strength & light∣nesse did surmount in such sort, that vnder his harnesse in more then ten places he hurt the Giaunt, and although the wounds were not great, yet the bloud that issued out, was very much. Then the Giant séeing himselfe in such a pickle, threw his shielde from him to the ground, and with both his handes tooke his great cutting sword, & heauing it aloft, he let it fall with such wonderfull furie, that it was verye straunge to beholde. But this politike Prince séeing on which part this terrible blowe would fall, determined not to receiue it, but with a light leape did cléere himselfe from the fall thereof, the which fell to the grounde with so greate and terrible hast, that the halfe of it entred into the earth, and by reason that the stroke was giuen more of anger then of cunning, by the great strength that he put to it, he could not keepe himselfe, but was forced with the stroke to fall with his breast vpon the pommell of his sword. He was no sooner downe, but the Sonne of Trebatio gaue him another vpon his helme, that it sounded as though he had stroke vpon a bell, wherewith the Giant fell flat to the ground, greatly a∣stonished, and almost beside himselfe. This valiant Greeke when he sawe him in this traunce, laide fast holde vpon his helme, and with the excéeding strength that he set to it, hée pulled it from his head. The Giant which was then some∣what recouered, caught holde vpon the skirt of his harnesse, and pulled the Knight towards him with such strength, that he was not able to make resistaunce, but néedes he must go whether his strong arme carried him. Then gladly woulde this noble Greeke haue defended himselfe from this perill,

but he in no wise could, for stumbling vppon the Gyaunt he lighted on his breast, in such tumbling sorte, that he fell on the other side of him, & séeing himselfe so ouerthrowen w^tout any power in himselfe to prouide for help, he gaue a loude cry & said. O Iesu Christ the sonne of God deliuer mée from this daunger, so incontinently as soone as he was at the grounde, with a light and valiaunt courage hée rose vp againe, preten∣ding not to shew anie pittie or fauour in this fight, and re∣turned to the Gya••t whom he found on foote and readie to defend himselfe, and approching nigh him, because he would shewe the greatnesse and valiaunt stomacke that hée had, hée sayde. Ualyaunt King, take to thée thy holme, for that I will not that for lacke thereof thou doest loose the surmoun∣ted valour of thy heart. The Gyaunt which had prooued by experience the great prowesse of his surmounted strength, and againe séeing his noble curtesie in offering him his helme, with an humble and méeke voyce hée sayde. Ualiant Prince, I praie thée tell me if it be true, that thou art he which at the beginning thou saydest thou wert, or whether thou art the God Mars, which is come downe from heauen to destroye mée, and to make my strength of no estimation. This wor∣thie knight then placing the point of his swoorde vppon the grounde, and leaning his arme vppon the crosse of the hilte, not making anie outward apperaunce of wearinesse that he had in this battaile, with an amiable countenaunce he sayd.

O king, if thou wouldest acknowledge this greate cruel∣tie which thou committest, and the small reason which thou hast to execute it, and howe greatly thou doest erre and art ouerséene, in thinking that thou seruest thy Gods in maintai∣ning and defending such extreame tyrannie, thou shouldest do much better, & so returne vnto the knowledge of my God, who is the true creator of heauen & earth and all that therin is▪ Then the Gyant replied vnto him & sayd: Of truth (gentle Knight) thou knowest well how to extoll thy God in whome thou dooest beléeue, but howe shall I knowe that this thy God is of more goodnesse and vertue then my Gods. Unto whom the Prince answered and sayde. Oh king, that is ve∣rie

easie and apparant to be séene and perceiued. Tell me I praie thée that if at anie time thy Gods haue in their owne causes had anie power or defence? no surely, for if they had, then would not they haue suffered themselues to bée so ill intreated of them who should worship and serue them, for if at anie time your Gods doe not graunt vnto your requests, and performe that which you would haue them doo, then you beginne to curse and to banne them, and speake the worst that may be spoken of them, and some of them you throwe in∣to the fire and burne, and other some you pull out of their Tabernacles, and tread them vnder your féete and polute them, and presently you leaue them and chaunge them for other new Gods, and vnto them you doe your worshippe till such time as they likewise fulfill not what you aske of them, and yet these poore and infortunate Gods are in no fault, for that at anie time they cannot helpe themselues, but doeth burne in the pit of hell. So that it commeth of a great sim∣plicitie y^t thou wilt beléeue in the diuell, who is the authour of all euill, and forget the creator of all thinges, who hath gi∣uen thée this thy strength and prowesse, and will deliuer thée in all thy necessities. Oh king thou shouldest not néede any other proofe, but onely that which thou thy selfe diddest vn∣to the image of Diana. For in thy anger thou diddest throw it downe and cut it with thy swoord, and diddest vnto it all the euill that thou couldest, so that if they had had anie pow∣er, thinkest thou then they woulde haue suffered that thou shouldest haue offered this outrage vnto them, no I tell thée thou mightst not haue bene once so hardie as to haue moued against them.

The Gyant who then was somwhat touched with the truth, sayd.

Worthie Prince, I henceforth promise thée, that I wil serue this thy God & wil desire thy friēdship & remaine thy friend, for y^t thou hast opened my eies & giuen me the light of y^e true life. And for y^t I may the better bring to passe and accomplish this my determined purpose, I wil without tarrieng take my iourney to Constantinople, to y^e end to be instructed in y^e doc∣trine of y^e faith, & vnderstand perfectly y^e power of thy god, not

doubting but to haue the aide and helpe of the valiant Empe∣rour thy Father, and by his meanes to be the better infor∣med. And noble Prince I do desire thée to declare vnto Te∣fereo my cousin and brothers sonne, all this my pretended purpose, and perswade him to leaue of this euil custome, and not continue in it anie longer. And moreouer to giue order vnto all his knights and Gentlemen, that they followe no more this wicked race, but commaund them to returne vnto theyr owne Countries, and to remaine there in the good go∣uerning thereof, with his brother Tramarando. And the like words he spake vnto his owne knights that were there pre∣sent at that time, and when the valiant knight of the Sunne heard these words, which procéeded from the Gyauntes heart without anye dissimulation, he receiued so great pleasure therein, that incontinent he threw his swoord to the ground, and pulled off his helme from his head, and ranne and caught the Gyant in his armes, and with great loue imbraced him, giuing him to vnderstand the great contentment that he re∣ceiued to heare that he would forsake his false Gods, & turne to the true and liuing God, the author of all goodnesse. The Gyaunt when he sawe his face discouered, he much meruai∣led to sée the great beautie of that Prince, and tooke him fast by the hande, and departed towardes the Castell, reasoning with him of diuerse matters by the waie, And when hée came to the Castell, he straight wayes commaunded that a shippe shoulde bée made in a readinesse with all kinde of furniture belonging to it, for that without anie delaie he would prose∣cute his voyage, and so curing himselfe of the small wounds which he hadde, which did a little trouble him, he commaun∣ded straight that they should bring him somwhat to eate, for that it was néedfull, as well for the great trauaile he had in the former battaile, as also for the losse of so much bloud which ranne out of his woundes. And when he hadde ea∣ten and dined according to his desire, without anye more delaie or further resting himselfe he stayed not so much as to pull off his harnesse, but departed out of the Castell, and entered presently into the Shippe, and without taking

anie farther leaue he commaunded to hoise vp the sayles, and caused the Marriners to direct theyr course towards Con∣stantinople, leauing greate charge with the knight of the Sunne for to burie the bodie of Arcalanda, which he pro∣mised to perfourme with all his heart. And straight waies he finished it, for in y^e same Chappell vnder the alter hée cau∣sed her to be buried, and vppon her for a perpetuall memorie caused an Epitaph to bée written, as in the storie héereafter shall appeare. So this gyant béeing departed his iourney, the knight of the Sunne without anie more tarryeng asked where he might finde this Tefereo, and when he was infor∣med of the place he tooke his iourney thetherwards, and left order with the people that there remained, that they shoulde not remoue nor departe till such time as he retourned a∣gaine. So long he trauailed that daie that the night drew on, and towards his left hande he heard a greate rumor and noise of harnesse, whereat he tourned about that waie with Cornerino his horse, where we will leaue them, to tell you of all that which happened vnto the knight Don Eleno of Da∣cia.

¶How the knight Eleno had battaile with Tefereo the Gyants cousin, and the successe that was therein, and how the Prince Eleno by a straunge aduenture was se∣parated from his cousin and Tefereo. Chapter. 7.

AFter that this knight Don Eleno of Dacia was departed from the knight of the Sun, all that daie he trauailed without méeting of anie bodie, and when night approched it waxed so darke that he was constrained to withdrawe himselfe out of the high waie, and to repose himselfe in a fayre gréene fielde, where as hée let his horse féede of the grasse that did there growe, and he layde himselfe downe vnder a faire and gréene Wil∣low,

thinking ther to take his rest, but y^e place being solitarie was fitter to occupie his amorous mind w^t his old thoughts, and to call to remembrance things past, then for anye ease: neither was there any néere to giue comfort, or to bemone him, and calling to minde the aunswere which he had of the faire Florisdama, in such sort it afflicted his minde, that he remained a great while without anye memorie, but as one halfe dead, leaning against the body of a trée, that whosoeuer had séene him at that time, would rather haue iudged him dead than aliue. In the end he came againe to himselfe, and being somwhat eased with the teares that distilled from his eyes, of the griefe he had, he tooke his lute in his hand, which he alwaies carried with him for his comforte, and began to playe on it verie swéetely, and with his swéete voyce mixed with agréeable musick, he represented the dolor of his heart, and sung the sorowe of his subiection by loue, which song is contained in these verses following.

ACcord your sounds vnto my carefull songs, ye siluer streames that passe this grouie shade, Refrain your course a while, to waile my wrongs: whose former weale, by loue is wofull made. My blisse to bale, my pleasure vnto paine. Conuerted is, and I in care remaine.

And sith I seeke in siluane shade to shrowd my selfe so ofte, my sorrowes to declare: Ye sauage Satyres, let your eares be bowd to heare my plaints, with speede your selues prepare. Trees, hearbes, and flowers (in woods and fields that grow,) While thus I mourne, doo you some silence show.

Sweete Philomela cease thy songs a while, and will thy mates their melodie to leaue, And all at once attend my mournfull stile, which will (I know) of mirth your notes bereaue.

If you desire the burden of my song, It's sighes and sobbes, that are constraind by wrong.

You furious beasts that feed on mountaines hie, and rest••esse rome with rage your pray to finde, Drawe neere to him, whom brutish crueltie hath cleane bereft of rest and ease of minde. For quite deuoyd of reason, loue or kinde, Are these great plagues to my poore heart assignde.

But sith that Fortune is so much my foe, that force perforce I was inforst to part, From hir whose presence first procurde my woe, and for whose absence now I feele this smart: This onely one thing rests to comfort me, I will be firme, though still she froward be.

In that I loue, and am not lou'de againe, my life I loath, and onely death require. But since my prowesse is not proued plaine, to shewe my loue, I longer life desire. And when in field my martiall force is tride, Sweete Death from thrall my heauie hart deuide.

This dolorous Knight could not procéede forwards with this musicke begunne, by reason of a Damzell, which was in that place vnknowen vnto him, and therefore vnlooked for, who with a softe and milde voyce saluted him, and this Knight retourned hir againe the courtesie she offered. Then this Damosell right sorrowfully said. It doth well appeare sir Knight that thou doest not knowe howe néere thou art vnto the perill of death, considering that so with∣out all care thou art publishing these thy passions of loue. Unto whom he aunswered and said.

I doo knowe verye well faire Ladie, that alwayes I

beare about me a deadly perill. But alas, how can I helpe that, although this occasion hath brought me into such ex∣tremitie, considering that it is so ordained. But to what end faire Damosell, you haue vttered these wordes, I am as yet altogether ignoraunt, wherefore I would be very glad to knowe somewhat, whereby I might haue occasion to for∣get these thoughts, & to bring my selfe in care of some new defence. Then this Damosell drewe nigh to him and said, Thou shalt vnderstand sir Knight, that this Countrie in which thou art, is the olde and auncient Kingdome of Ti∣nacria, whose happie dayes, which in times past it had, are now abated, and the great felicitie thereof is turned to con∣fusion. Then this Damosell did relate vnto him, all the whole storie that you haue heard, which the olde Priest told vnto the Knight of the Sunne his Cousin: but the great sorrow that he receiued in the hearing of so great crueltie, constrained a fewe salt teares to fall from his eyes, from the which he could not refraine. And procéeding▪ forwardes in hir talke, she said, You shall vnderstand sir Knight, that I am a Damosell belonging to the Countesse of Modica, who is nowe in companie with the vertuous Quéene Garofilea, in the Citie of Sarragosa, héere in the lande of Tinacria, by whom I was sent about certaine businesse, and came nowe from thence.

Uerely, the hearing of this terrible and heauie historie, did verie much cause this noble Knight to lament, & compelled his hart to earne, although on y^e cōtrarie he did re∣ioyce very much, for that now in the beginning of his knight∣hoode, he might imploie himselfe and his valiant courage in such terrible conflictes, whereby he might winne to him∣selfe a renowmed name and reporte, if so it please God that he may goe forward with this enterprise. So he de∣termined with himselfe, to loose his lyfe in this quarrell, or else to set the same Citie at libertie, although hée gaue not the Damosell to vnderstand anie thing concerning this his intent, who in the end of many good reasons and pittifull perswasions that shée vsed in coun••ailing and perswading this worthy knight Don Eleno for to haue very great care

and to looke well vnto himselfe, that he did not fall into the handes of this cruell Giant, she tooke hir palfray and depar∣ted hir way towards the Citie, to the ende that she might en∣ter in at the gates before the daye did breake, whereby shee might not be discouered of the enimie. So this Damosell departed, and lefte the Knight in great anguish and sor••••w•• of minde, as well in thinking of the crueltie of this vncha∣ritable Giant, as also, for that the night was so long that he could not put his determined purpose in vre, but in the end the gladsome daye appeared, at which time this worthye Knight perused his armour, and surely armed himselfe, and lased on his helme, and taking his horse, he rode the waye which led towards the Citie, béeing the same waye which the Damosell went. He had not ridden farre when he disco∣uered the Citie, which was meruailously adorned with To∣wers and fortresses, but yet round about it was to be séene a meruailous and dolorous spectacle of dead men and women torne in péeces, and others hanged by the necke vppon Iyb∣bets hard by the walls, and some vpon trées which were in the field nigh at hand, which caused the Prince to stay, and to sigh with great sorrow and teares in the beholding of so inhumane crueltie, and in bitternesse of heart he said,

O Lord how wonderfull be thy secrets, y^t thou sufferest this Knight to vse so great crueltie without punishing of him, it cannot be without some great mysterie which thy diuine Maiestie doth pretend. I beseech thée (O Lorde) to giue me so much grace and strength, that I may cause this great crueltye to be taken away, and vtterly to cease. O noble Citie, I cannot iudge what anger fortune should receiue of thée, in y^t she con∣senteth thou shouldest be subiect vnto such vnmercifull peo∣ple, so much without pitie and compassion. Well, I maye say, that as Grecia may brag hir selfe of most excellent, wise & learned men which it hath brought vp, euen so maist thou complaine, that against thée hath bene fostered two terrible and abhominable tyrants. And in saieng these wordes: hee drew nigh the gates of the Citie, which for feare of the cru∣eltie of the Giant, they kept shut, & taking hold at the ring

therof he began to knock▪ which he had not so soone done, but y^e lifting vp his eyes, he beheld to descend from aboue out of a bulwarke a great frée stone which was cast downe by the hands of a Gentlewoman, which came so sodainly, that he al∣most had no time to deliuer himselfe from receiuing the fall the••••of, and if the lightnes of his horse had not ben the quic∣ker, he must néedes haue taken the blowe on his head, which would not haue fallen out well with him.

But when this Gentlewoman sawe that the stone fell downe without doing anie harme, with a gréeuous and terrible sigh that procéeded from her heart, she sayd.

Art thou that cursed Tefereo, through whose cause the most part of the mournfull matrones of this distressed Citie are made widowes, and with great affliction are inforced to bewaile the losse of their louing husbandes and welbeloued sonnes? Art thou he that doth not onely content thy selfe to kill them and teare them in péeces, but also hangest them be∣fore our eyes, and garnishest the walls of this our vnhappie Citie with the bodies of them? Art thou that sonne of the di∣uell, which without all feare of the Gods hath put our Citie in this extreame necessitie? Oh cruell tyrant, open the eyes of thy vnderstanding, and let some sparke of pittie reigne in thy heart, and suffer not that for thy cause onely so worthie a Countrie as this is should be destroied? Let it suffice thée y^t thou hast alreadie bene the occasion that all these noble ma∣trones of this Citie, haue lost their rest & forgot their estate, and are nowe become as scowtes in the warres, and frame themselues to weare armour.

This gentle knight of Dacia would not suffer her to procéede anie farther, but cut off her tale, and with greate sobernesse he sayd.

Gentlewoman, I am not he that you take me for, but I come hether rather (if so bée I maie) by some meanes to pro∣cure your rest, & deliuer you from this outrage that is offe∣red you. Then this gentlewoman with much more anger an∣swered. O traitour, doest thou thinke that by thy treasons and subtiltyes to increase our care more then hetherto thou hast done? Get thée hence traitor, for thou art the most falle &

cruell man in all the world, for thy naughtinesse we doo well vnderstand, and to all the world it is knowen▪ O immor∣tall Gods, you doe well knowe that on the earth there is no strength sufficient to roote out this diuell and cursed tyrant from amongest vs? why do not one of you come down from heauen and confound him with your deitie. The good will which hath brought mée hether, gentle mistresse, aunswered Don Eleno, doeth not deserue to be thus ill intreated of you, who for to procure your libertie will put his life in aduen∣ture. I suppose I doe deserue better enterteinement at your handes. Well, let it be what it will bée, sayd this Gentlewo∣man, but touching thy comming into the Citie, it is laboure lost to speake, neuerthelesse if thou art not that cruell knight whom I did take thée for, turne thée about and looke towards the corner of yonder towre, which standeth amongest the gréene trees, and there thou shalt finde him, whom I doe be∣leeue without séeking for thou bringest with thée, &

so with∣out anie more speaking this Gentlewoman went from the wall, and left this knight alone. Then the Prince Don Ele∣no séeing himselfe alone, tooke the waie which the Gentle∣woman shewed him, wherein he had not trauailed farre, but in the middest of a groaue amongest a companie of gréene trées, he sawe a verie faire house and well wrought, where∣vnto when he approched he found that the gates were shut and closed verie fast. And drawing nigh the gate, he tooke the ring in his hand and gaue a greate stroke, at the sounde whereof there looked a man out of a windowe of the same house, and by the riches of the armour that the Knight ware, he knew that he was none of their companie, but said vnto him.

Who art thou that art so hardie béeing a straunger, which without feare doest call at the gate, whereas thou canst not escape, but must of necessitie suffer death. Friend aunswered this Dacian Knight, goe thy wayes and tell thy Lorde Tefereo, that héere is a knight of a straunge Coun∣trie that hath a great desire to speake with him.

This man without anie aunswering went awaie from the windowe,

And not long after, there was another window opened more lower then the first, from whence there looked out a knight who seemed to be of a gentle disposition, his face somewhat swart of coulour, who with great curtesie said. Knight what is it that thou wouldest haue, for I am he whom thou doest séeke for: that which I would haue aunswered Don Eleno, is, that thou doest leaue this diuellish custome which thou doest héere maintaine, for that a knight of thy disposition and manner shuld rather occupie himselfe in breaking these euill customes, then in maintaining them, for these be not works of a knight the which thou doest, but of an infernall diuell, I therfore much maruell how thou vsing so much crueltie, thou doest liue with so great ease and without care. Come therefore thou tyrant and arme thy selfe, and I hope thou shalt héere paie the tribute of all these euills which thou hast done, for it is not reason that so diuellish and cruell a man as thou art shouldest liue. These reasons did little trouble this Gyant, neyther made hée anie reckoning of them, but with his accustomed sobrietie, he answered.

Miserable knight, thou doest not knowe how héere thou doest seeke thy owne death in demaunding battaile of mée, therefore returne againe the waie thou camest, for thy te••der age and smooth face without a bearde doth moue me to vse this my vertue and curtesie with thée, and considering that thou art a straunger and not of this Countrie. Then this Dacian knight aunswered. It is not this that I doe séeke, but to accomplish this which I haue tolde thée, and if my wordes are not sufficient to cause thée to leaue this which thou doest exercise, I do beléeue that my swoord will ere long compell thée thereto, for either I will die the death or else I will depriue thy bodie of that dampnable and accursed soule, and send it whether as thou hast sent manie a better then thine is. To these wordes this Tefereo aunswered nothing at all, but withdrewe himselfe in great hast from the win∣dowe, and called for his armour, the which was all blacke, and of a verie faire and straunge making, he was with a trice armed, and being on horse backe, the great and princely Pal∣laice

gate was opened, whereat issued out this Sardenian with a gentle and demure countenaunce, and after him fol∣lowed a page with two speares in his hand, of the which Te∣fereo tooke the one, and sent vnto the Prince the other, who standing in néede accepted it, and without farther reasoning they turned their horses about with such courage and quick∣nesse, that the lyke hath béene seldome séene betwéene two knights. And when each of them wer come into their appoin∣ted place, they set spurres to their horses with as great force as the thunder in the aire, and méeting together in the midde way with their speares, their shockes were so terrible that it was wonder to sée, so that not one of them failed of his blow, but ioyned in such sort, that the staues (although they were verie strong) brake, and the shéeuers of them separated them∣selues in the aire with great violence, and yet the valyaunt knights both remained in their saddles, no more mooued then a rocke by the sea side. But when either of them behelde the little harme they had done in this their iust, they both with their swordes in their handes returned their horses, and be∣gan to strike so extreamly the one vppon the other, that their bodies felt the force of their armes, and although their har∣nesse was not cut, yet it could not be but their flesh shuld re∣ceiue damage. In this sort trauailed these two knights more then an houre, without knowledge of anie aduauntage, but either of them were inflamed with anger to sée his aduersa∣rie to indure so long, and the knightly courage of each of them did more and more increase, and their excéeding cholar was such, that the battaile began to be more terrible then at the first. But this furious Tefereo somewhat féeling, and therefore by experience knowing the surpassing strength and valiant courage of his enimie, although he did not greatlye meruaile at it, yet it did cause him to be more furious, and béeing incensed in such sorte, that with both his handes hée tooke his swoord, and strake at him such a stroke vppon the helme, y^t the blowe sounded through all the fields, & made an ecko in the mountaines, that by y^e waight thereof the Dacian knight was constrained somwhat to incline his head down∣warde

and remained a while without his remembrance, but his horse being scarred with that terrible stroke, gaue a great leape towards the one side, by the which he deliuered his master from the seconde blowe, which Tefereo thought to haue bestowed on him. The Dacian Knight being againe re∣couered, and not a little abashed at this blowe, setteled him∣selfe in his saddle, and throwing his shield from him to the ground, he tooke his sword fast in his hand, and stroke Te∣fereo so terribly vpon his helme, with his sword some what flatling, (by reason whereof, the force of the blow somwhat abated, it slid downe vpon his lefte shoulder,) that it con∣strained him to stoupe forwards with all his bodie, and if he had not clasped his armes about his horse necke, hée had fallen downe to the ground, and with the force of this great blowe, the horse was constrained also to boow his fore féete, who with a sodaine and furious force rose vp again: wherat this noble Dacian warriour, with great hast pricked his horse with the spurres, pretending to make an ende of this cruell battaile with his second blowe: but it fell out con∣trarie, for that Tefereo comming againe to himselfe, as fierce as a Lion, thrust forwards against his aduersarie, pro∣curing (if it passed not his power) to repay againe with inte∣rest, that which he had receiued. Now héere began a newe their battaile, and their forces multiplied in such furious sort, that all the mountaines and valleyes, were occupyed with the noyse of their terrible strokes. The courage was so great of these two Knights, y^t many times they lost theyr wits, with the weight of the terrible raps which they recei∣ued one of another. Then this Prince Don Eleno sayde to himselfe, that if all the rest of the Knights with whome hée shoulde haue battaile, were of no lesse prowesse then this present Knight, that he feared quickly to be disgraced: and on the other side, Tefereo found himselfe very sore troubled, and saw that he was in so great distresse, began to inuocate vpon his Gods for aid. The prowes, strength, & pollicie was such betwéene these two Princes, y^t whosoeuer had ben pre∣sent to haue beheld y^e same, wold haue said, y^t there was be∣twéen

them expressed, all y^e knighthood in y^e world: for it was wonderfull to sée, how somtimes they pressed forwards, and presently retired backwards, as wel to bestow as to auoyde their terrible strokes. It was ful thrée houres, y^t these noble knights thus contended together, & yet there appeared not in them any kind of faintnes, but by their behauior, ther strēgth séemed stil more and more to encrease. Then this heroycall Dacian not accustomed to find such resistance, began to for∣get al patience, & as one ouercome w^t anger clasped his sword fast in his hand, & being setled in his sadle, he stroke y^e giant so hard in y^e midst of the helme, y^t with y^e heuines of y^e blow, he was forced to fall backwards vpon y^e crupper of his horse without any remēbrance, & with y^e great strengh the Prince put to this blow, his sword flew out of his hand, & hanged by the wrist band, which while he recouered, Tefereo returned to himselfe, and with outragious anger (prouoked by y^e great paine he felt) with both his hands he strake such a blow vn∣looked for at Don Eleno with the halfe swoord vpon the vi∣sour, in such furious sort, that it bereaued him of his sight, & glauncing wise it descended downe vpon the head péece of the horse, but by reason of y^e first blow y^e last had small strength, so y^t it did but little harme, notwithstanding it amazed the horse in such sort, y^t with his staggering the Prince was con∣strained to vse pollicie to kéep himselfe from falling from his backe, but when his horse was recouered, he returned a∣gaine, so inflamed with anger as though sparks of fire had is∣sued out of his mouth, & crushing his téeth together, he vtte∣red these words.

O thou infernal diuel, is it possible, y^t by thy strēgth so euil bestowed on thée, thou shuldst in y^e beginning of my knighthood, put me in daunger to be ouercome, by one only blow, I protest by y^e honor y^t I owe vnto y^e progeny frō whēce I procéed, y^t if by this one blow I bring thée not to the point of death or ouercome thée, y^t I will neuer weare armor more against knight,

& so with great rage he returned against his aduersary, y^t he did not only feare him, but if ther had ben there a whole army of men, considering his fury, they would haue ben afraid, & pressing forwards y^e prince raised himselfe

in his stirrops, and stroke the Giant so terrible and wonder∣full a blowe, that the bloud gushed out of his nose & mouth, and therewith he fell to the ground as though he had bene dead. He was no sooner downe, but with great lightnesse the Dacian Knight leapt from his horse, and stept to the Giant to vnlace his healme, which while hée was a dooing, hée heard a voyce which sayd, Doo not kill him knight, doo not kill him, and tourning his head about to sée who it was that so disturbed him, he perceiued it to be his cousin the Knight of the Sunne. (This was the great noyse of harnesse, that the Knight of the Sunne heard towards his left hand, as be∣fore I haue tolde you.) So when Don Eleno had pulled of the Gyaunts helme, he withdrew himselfe apart, and his co∣sin alighted from his horse, and presently came and imbra∣ced him with excéeding ioye, and no little loue, which the more increased, when he considered that the Knight which should vanquish so great a Giant, could not be but of great valour, as it appeared by that furious blowe, by which the Giaunt was meruailously martyred: for the astonishment was such, that in a great while after Tefereo could not reco∣uer himselfe, till such time as they brought water from the house which was hard by, and threw it in his face, by which meanes, he came to his remembraunce, and séeing himselfe in such a pickle, and the sworde of his conquerour prepared for his death, I doo referre vnto your iudgemens, what such a valiant Knight should thereof conceiue, and with a verye great and sad sigh he said.

Oh thou that hast robbed me of my surmounted honor, content thy selfe to inioye this my great and high glorie, and suffer me not to sustaine any farther shame in sauing of my lyfe, with the inioying of which, I shall neuer héereafter re∣ceiue ioye, but euerie daye, yea, euery houre thereof, will re∣present vnto me a thousand deaths, in remembring that one arme hath hadde so much strength as to bereaue me of that which so many with all their forces, haue not had power to maintaine themselues against. I knowe not wherefor thou detractest time, make an ende of me, for that thou hast had

so much power to ouercome me,) I earnestly desire thée. And neuer think that thou shal•• be Lord of the thing which thou hast ouercome: for otherwise I will not yéeld my selfe, but onely to death. For they may account him onely conquered, which hauing strength to defend, submitteth himselfe vnto the mercie of his enimie. Therefore gentle Knight I doo be∣séech thée, not to shewe any pittie towards me, but to finish with my death this tragicall triumph which fortune & time hath now bestowed on thée.

These two Knights and Cou∣sins were very attentiue to the words that this mightie pa∣gan vttered, and liked excéedingly of hi•• reasonings, and in reply, Don Eleno aunswered,

Although that Fortune, (naye rather God) thus in the beginning of my glorie, hath giuen me this victorie, and libertie therewith either to extend cru∣eltie or clemencie, yet both ••or thy words which touch mée to the heart, and for thy prowesse, which I so much estéeme, I protest vnto thée, I wish rather neuer to haue ben borne▪ then willingly vpon thée to execute this extremitie, conside∣ring what a blot it is vnto noble Knights, to haue the name of tyrants, for that it depriueth them of all the honor & glo∣rie, that strong armes can any way atchieue. Therefore knowe worthy Knight, that the royall bloud of Dacia desi∣reth not the death of Tefereo, neither was it my request to haue thee ouercome, but onely to haue thée conuerted from thy cruell conditions, to the ende that I might enioye thy friendship.

Then the valiant Knight of the Sunne did cut off their talke, to the ende he might declare vnto them, all that happened with the other Giaunt. Which when Te∣fereo heard he was sore abashed, and with great sobrietie he saide: Well, séeing it is so, that the flower of all Knighthood and the glorie of armes, is possessed by you and your kinred, I vowe that from this daye forwards, I will not remain a∣ny longer my owne, but nominate my selfe as onely yours, and in deliuering these spéeches, in the best manner be might he arose vp from the ground, and with great loue imbraced them both. And after salutations ended, they entered altoge∣ther into the Pallaice, whereas they remained all y^• night,

for to repose themselues, considering the greate trauaile and paine which they had passed. The next day in the mor∣ning, although they hadde more néede to haue taken greater rest, yet there altogether they mounted on their horse backs, and tooke the way that lead them to Saragosa pretending to enter within the Citie, and there with all humilite to craue pardon for all the iniurie that was past: but their trauayle was all in vaine, for that before time they of the towne, ha∣uing had sufficient triall of Tefereos crueltie, would not by any meanes open the gates, alwayes beleeuing the lamenta∣ble spectacle before their eyes, and therefore fearing that they would deceiue them. So that when these noble knights per∣ceiued it was labour lost to stand long in contention, these people (though then causelesse) being so incredible, they re∣turned backe againe towards the Castle: and all the way they went, being almost by the sea side, these two Cousins sawe their ship comming towardes them in great hast, and staieng their horses, they saw, that she was fast at y^e waters side.

The knight of the Sunne perceiuing well, that hir com∣ming thether was for no other cause but to inuite them to come aboord hir, which Eleno and Tefereo condescending vn∣to, they presently did: and sent word by a page of Tefereos to commaund all those of Sardenna that they should set at li∣bertie all the Countrie, and without farther delaye retourne vnto their owne houses. These worthie Knights were no sooner entred into their Shippe, but she beganne presentlye to spread her Sayles, and shoouing from shoare, in great hast shée launched in to the maine Sea, wherein with prosperous windes they sailed two dayes, but the thirde daye verie earlye in the morning, they discouered a Gal∣ley, gouerned with sixe Oares on a side, which came ro∣wing towardes them, and béeing ioyned together, they behelde that ther was in the same a verie faire Ladie, whose haire of hir head was dispersed abroad, and hir selfe very ill intreated by an vncourteous Knight. This sad and distressed Lady with a sorrowfull voyce and pitifull lamentation, cry∣ed

out for succour vnto the heauens: at whose complaintes and vncourteous handling, these Princes receiued great an∣ger. The valiant Dacian Don Eleno being in all poyntes prepared to fight, layd fast holde on his sword, and with great lightnesse leaped into the galley, into the which he was not so soone entered, but that these two vessells were loose, and voyded the one from the other, so that not one of his other friends had time to followe him, & the swiftnesse was such in the departure, that in a small time either of them lost the sight of the other.

By reason of many accidents, which are to be accounted in this historie, it is conuenient I imitate the good musition, who to content all those, which attend to heare his melodie, chaungeth into many tunes: therefore now we will leaue these thrée knights, and retourne vnto the Emperour, to de∣clare such things as chaunced in his Court.

¶By what aduenture Floramonte was deliuered from the perill he was in, and how the Princesse Clari∣diana was deliuered of childe, and howe shee was comforted in all hir trouble by the wise Artemi∣doro. Chapter. 8.

WIth great ioye and contentment departed the Pagans, that carryed away the In••ant Flo∣ramonte, vnderstanding that Fortune hadde greatly fauoured them, to bestowe on them so good a price. Wherefore with great hast they got themselues to the Sea. Wherein they had not trauayled long, but that vppon a sodaine they discouered a shippe, which was comming towards them, all blacke, and out of it procéeded verie fearefull and wonder∣full lightenings, accompanied lykewise with terrible▪ Thun∣der, seeming by the force thereof that the heauen opened: and when the shippe drew nigh vnto the Gallie of the Pagans,

it was presently couered with the thicke and terrible lighte∣nings, in such sort, that it depriued all them that were there∣in of their sight, and with the great feare that they receiued, they fell flat downe vppon the floore in the Gallie. And when they came againe to themselues they looked about to sée if they coulde perceiue what it should be. And then they coulde not finde the infant Floramonte, for whose losse they lamented greatly. You shall vnderstand that the wise Lyrgandeo by his learning had deliuered the infant from them to kéepe him close and in secret, for that he vnderstood by his art of y^e great warres that was pretended and made redie for in Grecia, in the which warres shoulde be slaine the flower of all knight∣hoode, and that it should be in greate daunger to be lost and vtterly destroied. Also he did comprehend by his learning to knowe how this infant and one other that was then begot∣ten (but not yet borne) should be the greatest help & chiefe of this victorie, comming by chaunce to the end of the conquest, likewise he did knowe that if this childe should at anie time before this aduenture vse armour, that he should be put in great perill of death. This was the onely occasion that hée set him at libertie as you haue heard, and did inchaunt him in such sorte, that none other could cléere him of it, but onely he which should be his companion and aide in the greate ne∣cessitie of these warres: which was the sonne of the heroicall knight of the Sunne, and of the Empresse Claridiana, of whome thou shalt heare héereafter. Thus this wise Lyr∣gandeo hauing deliuered this childe that none in all the Court knewe of it, retourned thether againe, and from that daye forwardes kept it secrete to himselfe, not suffering a∣nie to vnderstande thereof, nor of anie other thing that hée foreknew in his heart by learning. All those of the Court were verye sadde, for that the Emperour was so sorrow∣full, forasmuch as hée coulde heare no newes of his sonnes, as I haue before tolde you, determined after hée hadde en∣ded the hunting, to retourne backe againe to the Citie. And in the way as they shuld go, they discouered comming towardes them a Wagon, which did represent much do∣lor,

(and this was that which Rosicleer did finde,) and there they remained to sée what it shoulde bée, and when the Wagon drewe néere where the Emperour was, they lyf∣ted vp a cloth wherewith the wagon was couered, and out of the wagon there issued a Ladie, who lead a maiden childe by the hande, all couered with mourning apparell, which did represent great sorrowe, and of so meruailous beautie, as it was to bée wondered at. This Ladie when shée vn∣derstoode which was the Emperour, shée knéeled downe at his feete, and with sundrie sorrowfull sighes, shée lamentably sayd.

Considering that all distressed women and oppressed damzells, forasmuch as they are women and of the weaker sort, doo finde in thée (Oh souereigne Emperour) succour and defence, what shoulde those that descende from noble and royall estate hope for at thy gracious handes? Among which number this which doth present her selfe before thée, is ney∣ther the least in birth, though nowe one in most miserie, for redresse whereof she craueth thy aide and defence. Thou shalt vnderstand O souereigne Emperour, that this childe is right heire apparant vnto all the kingdome of Lyra, of which she hath béen dispossessed by meruailous great violence.

The Emperour when he heard that this was the Quéene of Lira, he did reuerence her, and tooke her by the hande, and caused her to stand vp, and embraced her with excéeding shewe of loue, & offred vnto her his person and all his power at com∣maundement for her helpe & succour. Then the Lady would haue kissed his hands, but the Emperour would not consent therevnto by anie meanes, but tooke his horse to procéede for∣wards on his iourney, & for curtesies sake tooke vp the young quéene behinde him on horse backe, and the Emperour Ali∣candro tooke also the other Ladie. In this guise they returned vnto the Citie, for to put in order all thinges for the depar∣ting of the Emperour Alicandro, & riding by the way the em∣perour Trebatio demaunded of the Ladie the cause of her cō∣ming to the court, the which she did declare vnto him, not let∣ting in her tale to shew by shedding of salt teares from her

eies, the sorrow that in heart she conceiued, and in this wise she answered.

High & mightie Emperour, in the kingdome of Lyra not long time since raigned the father of this young Quéene, in so greate prosperitie and fame, that he was not onely honoured of his owne subiectes, but also feared of the borderers thereabout. Nigh vnto this kingdome there is an Iland called Roca••or, which beareth this name for the great strength it hath, as well in the buildings with Castells and townes, as by the inhabitaunts of the same, who are verye strong, of the which Iland was Lord and gouernour a Gy∣ant of a meruailous huge and mightie bignesse, beeing also proude and of verie ill conditions, who hath a son of a more greater stature and fiercenesse then himselfe, such a one as I beléeue hath not his like in all the world, and for that he had this vauntage ouer and aboue all other, it seemed vnto his Father, that there was none so conuenient in marriage for his sonne as was this Damzell, daughter vnto this aforena∣med king, and heire vnto the kingdome. And thus béeing wholy determined, he sent messengers vnto the king to de∣maund his daughter in marriage for his sonne, but the king made them answere verie rigorously, (and although the Gi∣ants are greatly feared; yet the power of this king was such that he didde estéeme them but little.) But when the Gy∣aunts Bulfar and Mandroco (for so were they called) did per∣ceiue with what disdaine the king aunswered them, they were readie to burst with anger, neuerthelesse Mandroco gaue counsell vnto his Father, saying: That he alone was constrained héerein to returne for his honour and no other, and that it touched him to make aunswere vnto them, and that he woulde neuer be accounted to be his sonne if he did not wholy reuenge himselfe. Then Bulfar who well knewe the greate strength of his sonne, verie much reioyced to heare those his reasons which he vttered, & commaunded straight waies that it should be put in vre: and so with f••ll determi∣nation in as secret manner as they possiblie might, they ga∣thered together fiue hundred of y^e most valiantest knightes y^t were in all the Iland, which were almost all of their affini∣tie,

with y^t which knights verie secretly they ariued vnknow∣en in the land of Lyra, and verie closely in the beginning of the night, two miles from the citie, they put themselues into a little groue that was nigh at hand, whereas they remained vnespied two parts of the night, then vpon a sodeine when y^e people were all at rest, and little suspecting anie such sodeine misfortune, they entered the citie & neuer rested till such time as they came to the kings pallace, at which entrie & first en∣counter the king himselfe was slaine, by a cruell blowe that Mandroco stroke him on his head, as you may beholde héere where the bodie lyeth on a Beere within the wagon. This Bulfar made such destruction in the entering of the pallace, that in a small time he possessed it for his, and so descending through the citie, by reason y^t those knights which he brought with him were of great power and strength. And againe, that those of the citie were vnprouided of all defence, with verie little a do he ouercame them all and brought them vnder his subiection, by compelling them to yéeld: So I a miserable wo∣man more then halfe dead in beholding so great damage d••n•• by a false doore that belonged to y^e pallace, I went out, where∣as escaped also many of the kings knights y^t were taken on a sodeine: so I tooke my way forwards and came to Hircania, for that the king therof was my brothers sonne, & cosin vnto this Princesse, who receiued vs verie well, & was not a little sorrowfull for our misfortune. From which place we sent to demaunde of the Gyaunt to surrender vnto vs, that which with great violence he hadde vsurped, and aunswere was retourned, that they woulde not dooe it, except this young Quéene shoulde first marrie with Mandroco, to the which we woulde not consent for that he was so deformed. So séeing his determined purpose, wée sent once agayne, demaunding whether he woulde giue vs the bodie of the dead king, to the which they did straight wayes graunt. And Mandroco sent vs worde, that forsomuch as wée woulde not consent vnto that which he did require vs, ten∣ding to our owne quietnesse, to the ende we shoulde vnder∣stand how little it was that hée did estéeme of vs, hee swore

with a solempne oath neuer to depart out of the Kingdome, for the space of two yeares, with condition, that in this time we should seeke two Knights, who by their great force and chiualrie, should ouercome his father and him in the fielde, and then they would depart the lande, and retourne to their owne Countrie. And contrariwise if we did not procure, to bring these two knightes to the battaile, or els to delyuer vnto them this Ladie within that prefixed time, that Man∣droco, might mary with hir, that then they would fully pos∣sesse themselues of all the kingdome, and fortifie themselues in such sort, that all agréement notwithstanding, we should neuer retourne to Lyra againe. And so vnderstanding their imbassage, I determined to come to this Court, whereas I doo vnderstand is all the prowesse, and flower of Knight∣hoode in the world. So héere I present my selfe (noble Em∣perour) before you and all your Knights, in asking fauour and requesting helpe to reuenge vs of so great wrong, as we haue receiued:

and thus she finished hir talke, and with great wéeping, she held her peace.

This noble Emperor receiued very great sorow & griefe to heare this lamentable tale that the Ladie tolde, and to see that faire young Damzel so dispossessed of her right by such extreame tyrannie, and with a milde countenaunce he aun∣swered.

Noble Dutchesse, since that thy good fortune (though the efficient cause thereof be to too badde) hath brought thée there▪ where with all good will ye shall receiue succour and comfort, I request you to take your rest, and be quyet, and leaue of this your mourning. And although ther be knights in this my court, that are able to comprehend such enterpri∣ses, by their great prowesse and strength: yet I do looke euery day for them, to whom I may commend greater affayres to be done then these, wherfore rest you a while till two doo come, of whom I haue more dominion ouer, & to them will I commit this charge.

There were many knightes pre∣sent that would very faine haue offered themselues to this enterprise, but hearing the pretence of the Emperour, they durst not in anie wise attempt it, but kept silence.

Then this dutchesse began to tell them of all the successe that happened vnto her knightes by the knight of Cupide. Unto whome the Emperour sayde: that knight is one of them to whome I will commit the charge of your combat, and I am right gladde that the seruice he shall doe you in this enter∣prise shall bée the occasion that you shall forget this anger that you haue against him. So with these and like reasons they drew néere the Citie, whereas straight waie they be∣gan to prepare all things in a readinesse for the departing of the Emperour Alicandro, and in a short time all things bée∣ing prouided, this Emperour béeing also readie with a verie good will entered the ship, and carrying with him the Prince Meridiano, and his welbeloued spouse, and the Troyan Ori∣stedes, he taking leaue of the Emperour with a better counte∣naunce then his heart would consent vnto, committed the sailes vnto the winde, and with a prosperous voyage they went a land at Tenedon, whereas we will leaue them, for to tell you what chaunced vnto the Empresse Claridiana, who was verie sadde for the absence of her spouse, and likewise to sée her selfe so great with childe, (although in the great hall she continually shewed a merrie countenaunce.) So it happe∣ned one daie being in conuersation with the Empresse, and the quéene Lira, there entered into the great hall the worthie Prince Clauerindo, all armed with his accustomed harnesse, and leading by the hande a verie faire Damosell, all appa∣relled in blacke veluet, and after her there came other nine faire Damosells, all apparelled after the same manner. This Damosell if you doo remember is shée, whose kéeper Rosicleer did kill, which was the Prince of Mesopotamia, & y^e knight which came to her at her complaint & sorrow, was Clauerindo, who in greate secret followed the knight of the Sunne, and because of the great confidence that he had in the friendship of Zoylo, he promised her fauour & succour: for the which this faire Ladie who was daughter vnto the king of Tiglia, came in this order as you shall heare. In the meane time that all this happened, there chaunced a thing of verie greate admiration, which was, that the Tartarian béeing

at that time in the hall as the Damzell entered, hée made a great noise without anie more tarrieng, neither was there a∣nie that could stay him, were he neuer so strong, but running forwardes as a man distraught, hée went out of the Pal∣laice. The sorrowfull Ladie séeing this, fell downe to the grounde as though shée had béene dead. And Clauerindo be∣holding the ingratitude of this Tartarian, woulde haue fol∣lowed him, but the wise Lyrgandeo stayed him and woulde not suffer him to goe, saying: They should let him alone, for that all they shoulde procure to followe him should bée in vaine. And so retourning vnto the Ladie he practised such remedyes, that verie quickly shee retourned to her selfe a∣gaine, and then promised her such remedies, as shoulde in the ende restore her to rest. And when the Barbarian Ladie did knowe who he was, she did meruailouslie reioyce. So this Tartarian went to the sea side, and with great diligence im∣barked himselfe in a shippe that was there readie fraughted for Spaine, which he did in such great hast and diligence, that before Bargandel and Lyriamandro could tourne themselues, the shippe had hoised saile, and yéelded her selfe vnto the winde, the which was the occasion that these two did the like in taking another ship, who sailed after the first, with de∣termined purpose, with all their powers to procure that this Tartarian should returne againe, whome we will leaue now sayling on their voyage, for it is necessarie for our hi∣storie to relate other matters in this Chapter. Let vs re∣turne therefore to the Emperours court. The Empresse Cla∣ridiana séeing her time at hand to be deliuered with childe, was verie sadde, and knew not what to doe, but in the ende of many thoughts she determined to decypher all her secret vnto a maide she had who was called Arcana, to whō she did disclose all the secrets of her heart. This Arcana séeing the great friendship and curtesie that the princesse shewed her, in opening her secrets more to her then to anie other, and had a more trust in her then in the rest, kissed her roiall hands, and promised her to be no lesse secret then dilligent in all her af∣faires.

So they determined betwéene themselues and did pro∣uide as it was best for their purpose, to bée continuallye a∣lone and without anie companie, but that which did most trouble and gaue greatest care vnto the Empresse Claridia∣na, was, for that shée did not knowe to whome to giue the charge of nursing that, which shoulde be borne of her, yet the maiden who was verie wise, subtil, and discréet, had ordained all things in good order, for she had in great secret disclosed it vnto a verie honest matrone of the citie, saieng, that she was the partie that should be deliuered, and gaue vnto her verye largely of gifts and iewells, with promises of a farther bene∣fite for to keepe her counsell therein. It was not long after when that with great paine and griefe this noble Princesse was deliuered of a verie faire sonne & daughter, béeing of so great beautie that it was wonderfull to bée séene. The sonne had vnder his left side a meruailous & verie strange marke, which was a speare of such a firie prospect that it made them afraid to touch it. The Empresse tooke thē both in her armes and with many bitter teares she blessed them, and returned them againe vnto Arcana, willing her that she should dresse them, and put all things in order to send them to the nurse, the which she did with great diligence, wrapping and swadde∣ling them vp in very faire and rich clothes, according to the best guise that she could, although she wer but little acquain∣ted in such like matters. She had not scantly made an end of swaddeling them, when that vppon a sodaine with a greate rumour, as it séemed vnto the Empresse and Arcana, one of the walles of the chamber where they were did open, where∣at did enter a Serpent, verie horrible and fearefull to be∣holde, from whome there procéeded greate flames and sparkes of fire, who stayed not, but went straight vnto the place whereas the two little Infantes were, and at two mouthfulles hée swallowed them cleane vp, and so with∣out dooing anie more harme or making anie longer tarry∣ing retourned out of the Chamber the selfe same waye that it came in, leauing the Empresse in so greate feare, as in such cases is required.

And being in this great traunce she looked towards y^• place, where the Serpent went out, and she sawe enter in thereat an olde man, which came with a staffe in his hande, whom straight waie she knew very well to be the wise Artemido∣ro, who with great courtesie saluted the Empresse saieng:

Madame, take you neither care, paine, nor griefe of y^t which is done, neither trouble your selfe for your children, for that there coulde be no more done, then that which is done: for all is conuenient and necessarie for the establish∣ing both of yours and their good fortune. And more I doo certefie you, that the time should come, wherein you shall re∣ceiue more ioye and comfort, then nowe it dooth cause anguish and sorrowe.

And thus without anie more reaso∣ning he returned and went out againe at the place whereat he entered, and he was not so soone out, but that the wall clo∣sed againe as euen as it was before, and no signe of opening could be séene. After that he was departed the empresse & her mayde remained reasoning and meruailing at this sodaine and strange case, & after they had considered of many things, they determined betwéene themselues to kéepe all verye se∣cret, till that by opportunitie were offered them, what they should doo.

The Prince Brandimardo of whom I told you of, was so inflamed with the fire of Cupide, whch kindled in him tho∣rough y^e loue of the young quéene of Lyra, whose name was Ardisilora, y^t he could finde in himselfe neither rest nor ioy, & his passions were not so secret, but that this young quéene did perceiue them, & spared not to repaye him againe with a kind of honest and single loue. Of whom we meane to de∣clare more in the processe of this historie, and of their won∣derfull acts which they did: for you shall vnderstande, that this young Quéene, being a horsebacke and armed in hir ar∣mour, proued another Claridiana, as shal be rehearsed in that furious battaile betwéene the Greekes & Africans. And you shall moreouer marke, that all that you haue hearde in the processe of this chapter, was ordained by the wise men, which I onely note, for that those which shall reade the same, maye

the better vnderstand the historie.

¶How that when the King of Hungarie was taking his leaue to depart, there came a Giant, hauing a cru∣ell and furious countenaunce, who defied the Em∣perour and his sonnes, and of all that chanced ther∣in. Cap. 9.

THE king of Hungarie séeing y^t it was time for him to returne to his owne Countrie, it happened one daie being in companie with the Emperour his sonne in lawe, he said vn∣to him:

My louing sonne, I woulde verie faine before my departure (if it were possi∣ble) that my sonne were come, to the ende I might haue him with mée, séeing that my Nephewes doe not come, but sith their tarrying is so long, I must be content to take patience, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 theyr companies retourne home into my owne Countrie, least peraduenture this my long absence be cause of some insurrection or commotion.

The Emperour woulde verie faine haue aunswered him, but vpon a sodeine and vn∣looked for, there was raysed a great rumour amongest them that at that present were in the Pallaice, and demaunding what was the occasion of such sodeine alteration, they sawe entering in at the gate a verie great and mightie Gyaunt, of more then sixtéene cubites high, of strong bodie, and double the bignesse of anie other ordinarie man, he was armed with verie strong and rich armour, and he carried vpon his shoul∣der a great and heauie Mase, and at his girdle a verie fayre & broad sword, and without doing reuerence or shewing anie kinde of curtesie, but with a proude and arrogant voice hée asked:

Which amongest you is that false and trecherous Rosicleer, sonne vnto the traiterous Emperour Trebatio?

All that were there present (were not a little amazed, as well in beholding the huge greatnesse and straunge forme of the gi∣aunt, as also of his great pride and boldnesse in his wordes) aunswered him not a worde. Then the Emperour, as one

vnto whom it most belonged to make aunswere▪ with great sobrietie and wisedome, as in such like matters he was accu∣stomed to vse, replyed.

Graunt, Rosicleer at this present is not in the Court, for the which I am verie sorrie and conceiue great griefe, for I am sure if he were héere present, he would soone tame and bring downe this thy great pride, and mitti∣••ate thy mallice, and soone abate this thy vnreasonable bold enterprise, which thou hast attempted.

And in that thou doo∣est saie that I am a traitour, I answere that thou dost false∣ly lye, like a naughtie and ill taught knight, for I neuer vsed treson towards anie man, neither would I at anie time consent therevnto, but I haue procured to the vttermost of my power to punish it. When the Gyant heard this aunswere, béeing more kindeled with rage, hée saide. Emperour, thy wordes bée spoken verie fondly and without feare, as the Cocke vpon his owne dunghill, héere thou séest me mightie and strong, insomuch that béeing in thy Countrie I doo make thée quake, and more I would doe 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thou 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a••roade. Thou great beast and deformed creature, replyed the Empe∣rour, for that thou shalt vnderstand how little héere in Gre∣cia we esteeme such monsters as thou art, tarie a while, for in place of my sonnes, because they are not present for to giue thee thy payment according vnto thy deserte, in me beeing their father, thou shalt finde such resistaunce, that I hope by the fauour and helpe of almightie God, to take that diuellish and infernall head from thy accursed shoulders.

So the Em∣perour in great hast with a knightly courage called for his armour. This Gyant séeing the disposition and prowesse of the Emperour to be so valiaunt, with a great crie he sayde. O yee feminine Gods, is it possible that your deitie doth con∣sent, that alonely one man is so hardie & couragious to enter into the field with me. Emperour, take to thée one hundreth of y^e best knights y^u hast about thée & come, for altogether I wil cut you in peeces, for y^t my gods will not permit y^t he in whō al their power consisteth shuld haue battel w^t one knight, & in saying these words, he did shew the great pride y^t rested in his heart. Héere you may iudge in what perplexitie y^e Empresse

and all her Ladies were in, to sée so ill fauoured a monster before them, I promise you they were all in a manner with∣out remembraunce and cleane beside themselues, but Clari∣diana neuer moued hir countenaunce, but was verye quiet. In this meane time while the Emperour was arming him selfe with as greate hast as he might, the fierce Gyaunt which burned in anger, thought that the Emperour tarryed verie long and sayd: What doest thou Emperour? why doest thou not cause thy knightes to arme themselues as I haue willed thée, for that both of thy selfe & them I pretend ••o end the weake dayes, and in saying these wordes he went vnto the place whereas the Emperour was arming himselfe, there the Empresse Claridiana put her selfe before him, and stroke the Gyant such a blow on the breast with both her hands w^t so great anger, that she made him to withdrawe backwards, and in the end was forced to fall, and she sayd: Thou diuel∣lish beast, what thinkest thou in thy heart to doe, and what is thy pretended purpose? and séeing the gyant in so great fu∣rie, she cried out and sayde: Oh holie God deliuer these thy knightes from all euill, for he arose vp with such ire from y^e ground, that a great mountaine had not ben able to make a∣nie resistance against him, if it had not happened, that in the same extremitie there entred into the hall that gentle & vali∣ant giant y^e king of Sardenia, who vnderstāding y^e contempt of y^e other gyant, & how much he had misused y^e emperor with his proud spéeches in the hall, he was very greatly incensed, & y^t the emperour shuld vnderstand y^e great loue y^t he bare vnto his sonne, y^e knight of y^e Sun, like a furious lyon he attempted the battell before the Emperour could be ready to make y^• as∣sault, & lifting vp a great club which he had in his hand, hee said: O thou foule dissignred monster, far more proud thē ap∣perteineth to y^e order of knighthood: first before thou approuest thy strength with anie other, thou shalt féele the force of me. The great disdaine that was in this gyant whose name was Bust••afo▪ arg•••••• y^t he l••tle estéemed y^e other, but w^tout replying any answere, they began to flourish with their great & migh∣tie Mases, that the greate noise of the Emperour, neyther

the shrikes of the Empresse and her Ladies, woulde suffice to make them withdrawe themselues y^e one from the other, but terribly they let fall their heauie and mightie blowes one vpon another, that their strong helmes were brused, & they inclined their heads vnto their breasts. So then there began a cruell and mortall battell, one of the most terriblest in the world, for the strength of their blowes were so outragious, that with the least blowe they gaue, it was thought that the great hall would haue fallen downe. The Empresse and her Ladies what with the great griefe they had, and againe, with the excéeding heate that began in the hall, withdrew them∣selues into their Closettes and Chambers, and likewise the knights that were present, departed and left them alone in y^e hall, sauing the Emperour onelye remained at the doore, to keepe the entrie y^t none sh••uld either goe in or out, who was very well armed. And Brandimardo and Claueryndo were with the Empresse Claridiana, beholding this cruell battell, not knowing who this great Gyaunt was that trauailed so much for the honour of the Emperour and his sonnes. In all this time these Gyaunts had no other care, but in brusing & mangling one anothers flesh, with so greate strength, y^t who∣soeuer beheld them meruailed at their fiercenesse, and with∣out doubt, all the furious rage of Gyaunts consisted in those two, as it did appeare by the terrible and outragious strokes that they bestowed betwéene them, for w^t the great strength and the sound thereof, the whole pallace did not onely shake, but also the whole Citie: in this sort they continued a greate while without taking anie breath, and all the floore of the hall was full of hoales, with the heauie blowes that had scaped by. Thus they long continued without knowledge of anie masterie betwéen them, but still they procured the one to in∣damage the other, and to be reuenged one of another, with so greate rage and in such sort, that they séemed rather to bée rash and vnreasonable Gyauntes, then expert and valiaunt knightes: and in this their great furie they both lifted vp theyr great and heauie clubs, in such sort that their blowes met and discharged together, with such surpassing strength,

that the club of the King of Sardenna, was parted in twain, but the mace of Bustrafo discharged vpon the other, although almost in vaine, for that it had lost the former furie by rea∣son of the first encounter, neuerthelesse it made his healme to sound as an anfielde when it is stroken on with a ham∣mer. Then this king séeing he had such an aduersary, thought it not good to vse delay, but with great hast he drewe his sword, and at such time as Bustrafo turned the second blow he could by no meanes shun or apart himselfe from it, but bare it off with his sword, and the fall of the blowe was such, that the mace was cut cleane a sunder, and the great end rolled on the flower in the hall. Bustrafo seeing himselfe dis∣possest of his heauie mace, threw the tronchon which remai∣ned in his hand, at the King of Sardenna, who receiued it vp∣pon his shielde: but the strength of it was so vnmeasura∣ble, that it glaunced on his shield, and flewe vpright to the top of the hall, and the king retired back thrée or foure steps, so that it was a wonder he fell not to the ground. In this time, Bustrafo had space to draw his sword, and to shrowde himselfe vnder his shield. Nowe there began a new, a more cruell and rigorous combat betwéene them, then at the first: for Bustrafo at his first blow, stroke the King vpon y^e shield, and parted it in two péeces, and with an infernall furie, it descended on his helme, and hurt his head, but y^e wound was not very great, yet the blow rested not, but glauncing on the harnesse, fell to the ground, whereas it made a great hoale: but in the meane time this newe conuerted King, was not idle, neither did his aduersarie escape his paiment for the blowe past, but hauing his sharpe cutting sword raysed on high, he discharged it with such excéeding force vpō Bustrafo, (who receiued it vpon his shield) that with y^e great strength thereof, it parted it in péeces, and descended vpon his helme, taking away with it all that it touched both of the harnesse & flesh, which fell together to the ground, so that Bustrafo re∣mained very sore hurt. And when he sawe his owne bloud, the battaile beganne a newe to kindle, in such sort, that in a very small time, each of them were sore hurt in sundrie pla∣ces,

wherout issued so much bloud, that all y^e hall was sprin∣kled therewith. This fierce Bustrafo séeing himselfe so ill intreated, his anger still more increased, and gaue y^e Sardeni∣an such a blowe vnder the wast, that it ••hewed his harde har∣nesse, and parte of the swoorde was sheathed in the flesh, wherewith he was very sore hurt: so with the anguish and terrible paine that this Sardenian felt, he gnashed his téeth together, and with great furye he stroke at the head of Bu∣strafo, who well knowing the waight of his blowes, stepped a side, which was the occasion, that the whole force of the blowe could take no effect, but with the poynt of his sword, he cut him on the visor, and it descended to his breast, and so downwards, insomuch, that it diuided the harnesse and hurt him verye sore, from toppe to toe, by meanes of which wound, he suffered great griefe, especially being in the place, where it was.

The déeds which in all this time chaunced vnto that va∣lyant Rosicleer, we will héere declare, and leaue these two Giaunts, with their perillous, and well sought battaile, till such time as occasion doo serue to to goe forwarde with the same. You doo remember, how that we lefte Rosicleer with∣in his inchaunted boate, sayling on the déepe seas, vnder the protection of Neptune. And so they trauailed for the space of fiue dayes, and as many nights, without séeing any thing, but the starrie firmament, and the furious waues of the sea, with out knowing whether they did sayle. In the sixt day of their nauigation, they beheld comming towardes them another great Foyst, who came with no lesse furie, then their boate sayled, and the course thereof was directed right with them. So when they drewe nigh together, the Foyst passed by so close, that they might well sée and discouer who was therein, and they perceiued within the same a damosell who séemed to be dead, and by hir stoode a monstrous Giant, and by the maste of the Foyst there was tyed a terrible Griffin, which caused great feare in them that beheld it.

The Foyst made such great waye, that Rosicleer hadde no time to leape into hir, which caused him to be verye sorry

and he was y^e more incēsed, for that he could not be through∣ly certified what this aduenture was and what the strange∣nesse thereof did signifie, and with the anger that he hadde, he began to curse all inchauntments, and all them that vsed it: but all this did profit him but little, for that in a shorte time it sailed out of sight. And looking about him, he sawe two shippes, which were in a great fight, and very fiercely the one assaulted the other, to whome the boate wherein the Prince was, directed his waye with so swifte course, that he almost had no time to put on his helme. And with these two shippes was another boate, which by the force of armes was brought in subiection and ouercome by y^e other two shippes, and all the people were slaine that was in her, sauing a fewe which had withdrawen themselues into the poope of the barke for their defence, amongst whome, there was one of a verye great and excellent stature, who with strong and mightie blowes, caused all those that approached vnto the place where he was, to withdraw themselues, but by reason that they had bene very long in this battaile, and that they had troubled him very much, he could not choose but be very weake and wearie, in such sort, that if it had in∣dured long, he must néedes haue finished the sight with his death.

After that Rosicleer had well behelde and noted the great strength and fierce courage of the Knight, it séemed vn∣to him to haue knowen him, and viewing the deuice that hée hadde on his armour, hée knewe that it was Zoylo the Tartarian, and straight waie without anie more tarrying he leaped into the shippe, and beganne to let them knowe the strength of his strong arme, for in such sorte he bestur∣red him, that at the first blowe he cut off helme and head, of one of his enimies, and not being content with this, he began againe to strike first on the one side and then on the other, so that there was not one that was so hardie to abide his terrible blowes, but when his aduersaryes sawe his furie, there ioyned more then thirtie of them together, pretending to assault him, but amongst them there

was one who séemed to bée the principall of them all, sayde. Returne you all backe againe and make an ende of that, which weake and simple women would long since haue finished, and let me alone with this knight that so rigorously doth behaue himselfe, and with great furie he pressed forward and stroke the Prince such a blowe that hee made him asto∣nyed, but this miserable man little knewe that hée had to doo with the best Knight in the worlde, for if he had, he would neuer haue made resistaunce against him face to face. And tourning to strike him once againe, hée discouered the de∣uice that he had in his shéelde, whereby he knew him, and was verie much afraide of that which should succéede. The Prince vnderstood by them that were in the shippe, that this was he which did gouerne them, he stroke such a blow at his right arme, that he cut it cleane off, so that arme and swoorde fell downe vpon the hatches of the shippe, who séeing himselfe so ill intreated, with a greate noise and pittifull shrike he en∣tered in amongst his people, and cryed for helpe and succour, but all was in vaine, for that the Nephew of Tiberio stroke him such another blow vpon the helme, that he parted helme and head in two péeces, so that he fell downe dead: but when his companie sawe this, they altogether fell vpon him with terrible furie, thinking to make an ende of him, but he recei∣ued them in such order, that quickly he made them to vnder∣stand the strength of his victorious arme, for he neuer stroke blowe but either he slewe one, or felled him to the grounde, which was the occasion that their heartes fainted, that not one of them which remained durst approch, neuerthelesse they had so compassed him about, that he could not neither on the one side nor on the other make anie waie, for when he deter∣mined to put himselfe forwards one waie, then the other be∣gan to laie on him behinde, so that of necessitye hée was constrained in the end to set vpon them all at once, for that they did so trouble him. In this time Zoilo had somewhat recouered his strength, and was well eased of his weary∣nesse, and séeing the valiauntnesse of his defender, he went to∣wards y^e place where he was skirmishing, & with his sword

in both his handes, he beganne to make greate destruction a∣mongst his enimies, that the slaughter was so great, and their enimies not able to make anie resistaunce, but like misera∣ble people determined rather to submit themselues to y^e mer∣cie of that newe come knight, then to the force of theyr owne armes, and falling all downe at the feete of Rosicleer, they craued pardon of him for theyr offence, and mercie for their liues, the which he straight waye graunted, and sayde: It is great curtesie, yea, and no little charitie shewed toward the euill man in punishing him, if that he pretende to goe forwardes and perseuer in his naughtie lyfe. Neuerthelesse if you will promise me, that from this da••e forwardes you will amend your liues, and leaue this naughtinesse, that you shall not alonely finde in me this which you doo aske, but al∣so true and perfect friendshippe at all times and in all things that you haue néede of, to the which they did all willinglye sweare they woulde performe. This béeing finished, the Prince and the Tartarian embraced one another, with great loue and friendshippe, and Rosicleer asked of the Tartarian what was the occasion that brought him into so great perill and daunger of death. The Tartarian sayde, that by force of an aduenture he departed the Emperours Court, (but he did not declare the effect) and how comming in that small shippe hée was taken with those rouers, who brought him into that greate distresse that he had found him in. Then Rosicleer againe threw his armes about his necke, and with great loue he sayd.

Fortune dealt but frowardly to bring thée out of Con∣stantinople in such a time, for to leade thée vnto this perill, and so beganne to tell him of all that he had passed in the Countrie of Greece. And when he heard him name the La∣die Tetigliasa, he shaked like the leaues of a trée, and sayde▪ Oh for Gods sake my Lorde, let not my cares heare the name of that thing which my heart dooth so much abhorre and detest. For heare I dooe sweare vnto thée, that liuing I will burie my selfe in this Sea, rather then to abide that speech.

At the which wordes the Prince was verie sore trou∣bled, but a certaine aduenture which chaunced him at that verie same time, caused him to forgette this his troubled minde.

¶ How the king of Tire gaue an assault to robbe the shippe where the Prince was, and how the same king was ouer∣come. Chap. 10.

SOdeinly amongest the knightes of those ro∣uers that had escaped from the handes of the Prince, there arose a greate tumult and showting, with terrible shrikes, calling vp∣pon their Gods for aide and succour, and the Marriners in greate hast beganne to vn∣grapple and loose their shippes the one from the other, and with as great hast as they coulde they hoised vp their sailes, for to flye awaie and escape from the perill which they be∣helde verie néere at hande. But when Rosicleer sawe this tu∣multeous crie, with a verie angrie voyce he sayde.

What noyse is this amongest you captiue people? What sodaine feare is this that is come vppon you, that with so great hast you prepare your selues to runne awaye. Lorde aunswe∣red one of them, greate reason wée haue to make all this hast which wée dooe, for you shall vnderstand, that there ap∣procheth nigh vnto vs either dreadfull death or cruell impri∣sonment.

This noble and valyaunt Prince looked about on euerie side to sée what the occasion shoulde bée that shoulde cause them to worke this fact: and straight wayes he dis∣couered a verie faire and rich Gallie which came towardes the place where as they abode, with theyr Sayles alofte and a prosperous winde, so that the Gallie in a manner sée∣med to flye vppon the water. Rosicleer without anie alte∣ration asked them, saieng.

Tell mée who is it that commeth in yonder Gallie, that hath put you in so much feare. Ualyaunt Knight (sayde they) there commeth in yonder Gallie the king of Tire, a mightie

and strong gyant being a rouer, we are not able fullie to cer∣tifie you of his great strength and deformitie, but of this wée are assured, y^t the verie Gods in heauen doo feare him, his life & custome is to rob all that euer he doth meete, and if it so fall out, that anie doe make resistaunce against him, he straight commaundeth them to the point of the swoord with extreme crueltie: so heere gentle knight, iudge whether we haue cause or not to doo our indeauour for to auoide this great daunger.

The Prince hearing all this which they of the ship told him, began to make himselfe readie to the battaile, and laced on his helme, and put all thinges in verie good order, and when that all was readie he sayde vnto them that were with him.

O you people of little courage & small strength, I sée well you are all base minded, and that there is no hardinesse in you, but onely for vile matters, get you downe and hide you in the pumpe of the shippe, for I will not consent that anie of you shall runne awaie, neither shal your cries excuse me of this battaile,

and so with a lowde voice he commaunded to beare vp the helme, that the ship might runne right vpon the Gallie. The Tartarian séeing that they pretended to giue the enterprise, commaunded those that were with him straight waies to put his vessell in verie good order, of the which it had greate néede, so with as great hast and swiftnesse of saile as was possible, they procured that the Shippe and Gallie might ioyne both together, and in verie short time they were come so nigh each to other, that anie man might well discouer and perceiue all that was in the Gallie of their aduersarie. This valiaunt and worthie Rosicleer sawe the greate Gyaunt where hée sate in the middest of the poope of the Gallie in a Chaire, where they verie plainely sawe his countenaunce was so terrible, and his bodie so greate, that all those which were present with Rosicleer were a∣fraide to beholde him. And when the Gyaunt vnderstoode that those which were in the ship would not alonely defend themselues, but also offend their enimies, his rage was such, that in great hast he arose and with a mightie voice he called

for his armour, vttering these words.

O you people most vnfortunate, frō whence hath come this hardinesse vnto you, to offend the King of Tyre, vnderstan∣ding and knowing, that I am not onely feared of men, but also the Gods in the high heauens doo tremble at my name, and desire to haue my friendship. Then Rosicleer aunswered and sayd, Make thy reckoning, that thou hast sayd euen as much as nothing, for of my selfe I speake, that I am none of the Gods thou namest, neither know I thée by the name thou tellest, nor yet doo I desire thy friendship, nor any others that practiseth the like workes, as thou dost, neither, doo I estéeme thy threatnings, nor yet thy furious coūtenance, nei∣ther can thy great body put me in any feare.

And with this, he commaunded the marriners to grapple the shippe & Gal∣ley together very strongly. Which, when this fierce King sawe, with great anger he arose out of his chaire, and not tarrying to lace on his helme, would haue entered into the shippe: but Rosicleer perceiuing his pretence, thruste him with so great force, with both his hands vpon the brest, that he made him to fall backwardes into his owne galley, and sayd. Stand backe thou infernall creature, & take thée to thy armor, what, doost thou thinke y^t thou méetest with such as thou art wont to doo, to feare them with thy diuelish coun∣tenaunce? Thou shalt haue neede both of armour and hands, for to delyuer thee from the punishment of the iust Iudge, whose reward shal now be executed vpon thée, for thy vniust workes, and cruell customes, wherein thou hast long con∣tinued.

There was neuer séene amongst sauage beastes so much anger, as at this instaunce appeared in the Giant, and with the madnesse of his heart, he drewe out his mightie & hea∣uie sworde, wherewith he woulde haue stroken Rosicleer, but this valiant Knight with great disc••etion, stepped on the one side, so that his blowe was discharged in vaine, onelye it stroke vpon the side of the shippe, and it fell with suche great strength that it cut the shippe downe, euen with the galley.

This noble Gréeke was nothing at all idle, but ha∣uing his rare and precious Sworde, which Queene Iulia had sent him, in his hande, hée stroke a terrible and fierce blow at the Gyauntes face, but by reason he was so farre off, he coulde not reach it, but that the point of his sharpe Swoorde onelye passed through his chéekes, but if he coulde haue comprehended more of his head with that blowe, he had made an end of the battayle. This furious Gyaunt when hée sawe his bloud before him, he gaue a terrible groane, and therewith tooke his broade swoorde in both his handes, and with blaspheming and cursing his Gods, hée lyft it vp for to strike this valiaunt Gréeke, who séeing it to descende, de∣termined not to receiue so doubtfull a blow, but with great and singular wisedome deliuered himselfe from it. The blowe was such that if it had not doubled in the maine sayle which somewhat disturbed it, it had béene sufficient to haue diuided the Shippe in péeces. This valyaunt and mar∣tiall Prince, which with greate discreation and aduise∣ment sustayned this battaile, had alwayes a verye good eye to the Gyaunt, who for to vnloose his Swoorde where it was fast in the Shippe, was inforced to put his lefte hande to holde fast by the shippe side, whereat Rosicleer stroke with such furie that the Gyants hand remained fast to the Shippes side, diuided from the arme. But when this terri∣ble and fierce Gyaunt sawe himselfe lame, and that he had cleane lost his lefte hand, hée began a newe to curse and blaspheme his Gods, and procured to hurt this Gréeke by all meanes possible that hée coulde inuent, but he prouided so to the contrarie, that not one blowe which the Gyaunt stroke should eyther touch or hurt him, in such sort, that at last when this furious & outragious diuel striuing to strike this Gréeke Knight, was driuen to ballaunce his bodie, thereby to reache at him, this Knight let passe the same blowe euen as hée did all the rest of his blowes, and in passing by hee gaue him such a cruell blowe vppon the right arme, that he cut it off almost by the elbowe.

And when this miserable king sawe himselfe with∣out

hands, he gaue a great crye and rored like a furious bull, and therewith he clasped himselfe to the m••ste of the galley, and with great case he pulled it out of his place, and in an infernall rage, he woulde haue entered into the shippe, but Rosicleer with his handes once againe thrust him on the breast in such wise that he was constrained to fall downe vpon the side of the galley, and by reason of his hugenesse & great waight, he lyghted with the one halfe of his body ouer boord: and because he had not his hands, he could not helpe himselfe, but tumbled with his head forwards, into the déepe and wide Sea, wherein béeing drenched, he finished his miserable and vnhappie dayes. Then those which were of his Gallie séeing this his wretched ende, and fearing theyr owne misfortune, in a meruailous greate hast vngrappeled the Shippe, which was done with such spéede, that when Ro∣sicleer remembred himselfe, he had no time to offende them, nor to doo them anie more harme. Then those which were in his Shippe and had behelde this short and victorious bat∣taile, beganne a new to fall downe at his féet and most hum∣blie craued pardon for their former feare. Then the Prince turned towards the Tartarian, who all the time of this con∣flict, was beholding his excellent and mightie strength, and much meruailed at that which he had séene, and asked of him what he hadde determined to dooe. And the Tartarian aunswered, that he would in no wise depart from his com∣maundement, and béeing in talke, they, vpon a sodaine sawe two shippes, which séemed vnto them, that they were in a great fight. These Princes were meruailous desirous to be with them, to vnderstand what they were. So this valy∣aunt Greeke, tourning to the Tartarian, he said, Prince of Tartaria followe mée, and in greate hast he leaped into his Boate, and he was no sooner entered therein, but that it be∣ganne to make waie lyke a Thunder-bolt in the ayre, so that it séemed sparkes of fire flew out of the water, in such sort that the Tartarian hadde no time to followe him, but by reason of the swiftnesse, he had quicklye lost the sight of him.

So for that it is requisite, let vs leaue this Tartarian, who was very sorowfull béeing lefte alone, and commaun∣ded the marrineers to make waye with his ship, towardes the other two that were a fighting. So this valiaunt Rosi∣cleer sayled on in his inchaunted boate, not without greate sorrowe, for that vpon a sodaine he had lost his perfect friend: neuerthelesse for that he did vnderstand that he was carried to conclude the things that were more for his contentment, he was driuen to comfort himselfe, with that which most he loued. So with these great thoughtes, he sailed two dayes without any aduenture worthy the telling. But the thirde daye very early in the morning, at such time as Appollo shewed abroad his glistering beames, they discouered lande, whether the barke with terrible furie made waye: and it séemed vnto him to be a very small Iland, where they arri∣ued, neuerthelesse by the prospect of the riuers, it appeared to be a place of great delyght, and full of meddowes and other gréene fieldes. So by the resting of this barke a grounde, Rosicleer vnderstood that there he should goe aland, where∣fore he descended out of the barke, and after him came his good horse, and to the ende he would trauell in more safetie, he mounted on his backe, and looked round about him, if hée coulde discouer any waye or path. But not farre from the place whereas he was, he beheld very faire and sumptuous buildings, wherewith he tooke the way that led him thether, and being nigh thervnto, he saw y^t it was old & ancient buil∣ding. And as he went round about it a while for to beholde the same, he saw y^t ouer the principall gate, was this super∣scription written. This is the famous and auncient Temple of the goddes Venus, from whence the noble Paris of Troy, stole the faire Queene Helena: this is the Iland of the mother of that cruell Cupide▪ the greatest sower of discord in all the world. This valiant Knight did very much content himselfe in beholding that olde and sumptuous Temple, the name whereof was spred through all the world, and lefte not any thing, neither without nor within, but behelde it fully to his contentment. After that he had spent a little time in peru∣sing

this, he put himselfe in a straight waye, which was not farre from a foote path thereby, whereas he sawe a man that was cutting of woode, of whome he asked what countrie it was, and who was Lord of it. This man perceiuing that hée demaunded somwhat of him, was not able to answere him, but made signes vnto him that he was dumbe, & moreouer, y^t he should returne backe againe, giuing him to vnderstande that if he did procéede forwards, he should finde great peril. This noble Rosicleer sayd then to himselfe, I doo not know what shall chaunce or happen me: notwithstanding, if a thousand that had their tongues should tell me, (yet would I not doo it, nor leaue off to follow this my pretended pur∣pose) much more thou, whom I cannot vnderstand. And so without any more tarrying, he retourned vnto his new be∣gun iourney, and at the going vp of a hill, he beheld a Ca∣stle of a mightie and straunge bignesse, which was edified vpon another hills side. He was a good myle from it, when he discouered it, and so iournying thetherward; he hadde not trauailed farre, when he found himselfe in a faire, broad, & smooth way, whereinto when he entred, he sawe certaine foo∣tings of horses, which appeared not to be made long before, but that lately they had passed that way: the which footings he followed, although he found other fayre wayes, and as much occupied as that wherein he was, yet for all that, be∣cause he would sée what footings they wer, he would follow that way and none other, so not very farre from that place where he was, he heard (although it was somwhat distaunt from him, to his séeming) a great rushing of harnesse, and the more he trauailed forwards, the more plainer his eares wer occupied with this martiall musicke. Till in y^e end, drawing néerer, he perceiued, it was a notable & well fought battaile, for which cause he pricked his horse onwardes the faster, in such sort, y^t at y^t going down from a mountain, into a faire & broad plaine, he behelde at the foot of the castle very much people and amongst them Giaunts, all which were in bat∣taile against one onely Knight, of a maruailous great & wel proportioned stature all armed in russet harnes without any

other, deuise thereon, who with his swoord in both his hands made a meruailous and cruell slaughter, for that at his féete there lay many of the knightes dead, and also of the Gyants, notwithstanding they did trouble▪ him verie much, so that hee was brought to a verie ill passe, for he had hewing and strik∣ing on him more then ••ortie knights and two great gyants, it was a thing of great admiration to sée how the knight did besturre himselfe beholding himselfe so beset, yet for all that there was nothing looked for of him but death. Somewhat on the one side a little distaunt from the battell, he sawe a Damzell of a meruailous & excellent beautie, who with great sorrowe complained her selfe. This valiaunt warriour seeing what this knight did for his defence, and by his mightye prowesse app••ared to bee of high estate, he descended and lefte h••s horse, & with a quick pace he proceeded forwards wi••h his swoord in his hand, pretending to aide and helpe that one knight, seeing he had such néede thereof. Before I procéede a∣nie farther in this battaile, I will (although it be somewhat troublesome to the reader) declare the rest of the terrible bat∣taile that was betwéene the two gyants in the great hall of the Court of the Emperour. You haue heard how we lefte these two Gyaunts Bustrafo and Bramidoro in great cōten∣tion of the battell, each one of them indeuouring themselues to winne the victory, although of each parte they denyed to either other the same. He that séemed to be most troubled in this battaile, was the Sardenian King, and with the thicke breath that proceeded from his vnpacient heart, his face was inflamed with the heate thereof. The which his aduersarie perceiued, and like a terrible and outragious Tiger, he lifte vp his mightie sword, letting it fall w^t such furie, as though fire hadde fallen from heauen. The King séeing that by no meanes he could escape it, lifte vp likewise his sworde, to ward that terrible blow: but by reason that that of the Gi∣aunt Bustrafos, was of better stéele, and of more strength, hée cut the sword of the Kings in two péeces, and the blowe de∣scended vpon his shoulder, and did a little hurt him. When this King sawe that his sword was in two péeces, hée was

somewhat amazed, yet for all that, he lost not his knightlye courage, but with a valiant heart pressed to his enimie, and with that ••••tle that remained of his sword, he stroke Bustra∣fo, vpon his helme such a blowe, (that if it had bene with the whole sword, he had cleared himselfe at that time of this daunger) yet it was not of so small force, but it cut off one of his eares, and carried away a péece of the iawe bone. This Gyant Bustrafo féeling himselfe so sore hurt with this terri∣ble blowe, pretended to repaye him with double interest (the which if it had chaunced to take effect) it had made an ende of his dayes: but this newe conuerted Knight, ranne in vn∣der the blowe of Bustrafo, saieng: O Iesus, kéepe and defend this thy newe conuerted seruaunt. And so ioyning together, they imbraced one another, whereas began a maruailous & strong wrastling, wherein they continued a good while pro∣uing their strengths, and procuring the victorie, the one ouer the other, till at the last, both being not a little wearie, they fell downe to the ground, tumbling héere and there from one place to another, without loosing their holde, & in this stri••e Bustrafo his helme fell from his head, by reason that she la∣ces wherewith it was made fast, were cut in péeces, so that his terrible and mightie face was plainlye discouered. But they séeing that this wrastling did little profit them, vnloosed themselues: but the King was the first that rose vp, as one that shewed himselfe to haue the best stomacke, and séeing that all Bustrafo his head was bare, in that he wanted his helme, he bent his armed fist, and stroke him such a blowe vpon the forehead, that his braines flewe out, and his eyes started out of his head, and there this vnfortunate Gyaunt fell dead to the ground. The King séeing then so good a suc∣cesse in his battaile, fell downe vpon his knées to y^e ground, and lifting vp his eyes vnto heauen, he saide.

I giue thée thankes most mightie Iesus, that thou gauest me to vnder∣stand thy power, & lightenest my vnderstanding for to leaue this error in the which I was led, and to come to the know∣ledge of thy true light. Then the Emperour came vnto him, and imbraced him, saieng. Worthy Giaunt, vnto whom it

hath pleased God to impart so much of his grace, I doo most heartely desire thée to tell who thou art, that we may know who it is, that hath showed vs so much fauour and curtesie, to the ende we may render thée thy due desarts, for this thy worthy deede.

The Gyant tooke off his helme, and showed his fa••e which was of a sober countenaunce, all to be spotted with his owne bloud, and without moouing from the place wherin he kneeled, replyed and sayd,

I am Bramidoro King of Sardenia, who of long time haue bene subiect to the super∣stitions of fained Gods, and by the prowesse of thy sonne the Knight of the Sunne, I am come to the knowledge of the almightie God, and am now ready to receiue the sacrament of baptisme. Therefore I desire thee (soueraigne Emperor) that it may be straight wayes ministred vnto me, and like∣wise one that maye instruct me in all that shall be necessa∣rie for my saluation.

The Emperour receiued great ioye to sée a person of so great estimation, tourned vnto the know∣ledge of the lawe and scru••••e of God, and sayd.

Noble king you shall a while repose your selfe, to prouide remedy in the curing and healing of your wounds, for it is right néedfull, & when you are well of them, then shall all things be fulfil∣led that you doo desire, that shall be necessarie for you.

This he sayd, for that he would haue it done with the pompe and right, that to so high a thing is requisit, and with the solem∣ni••ie y^t in such cases they accustomed to vse: & in saying these words, he tooke him by the hand, & raised him frō y^e ground, & led him vnto the chamber of the Knight of y^e Sun, where as he was cured of the wounds that he receiued in the bat∣taile, and was visited of all the Kings, Princes & Knightes, that were in the Court. The dead Giant was drawen out of the pallaice, and carried without the Citie, where, in stéed of a graue to bury him, they made a great fire and consu∣med him to ashes. The thirde day after this aduenture was ended, y^e King of Hungarie departed w^t many other knights, that were very desirous to goe into their owne countries to take their ease, at which the Emperour remained very pen∣siue. So the other day following, being on a sunday, they did

ordaine a solēpne feast for to minister the sacrament of Bap∣tisme vnto Bramidoro, for he had so great desire to be bapti∣sed, that he would tarrie no longer.

How the king of Sardenia was baptised, and how that a La∣dy demanded a promise of the Emperour, which he gran∣ted, for the which all the Court was verie sad. Cap. 11.

THE next daie in the morning béeing Sun∣daie, as you haue heard, the king of Sardenia was brought to the Church to recei••e his Baptisme▪ accompanied with all ••he nobili∣tie that at that present were in the Empe∣rours Court. There went with him for his Godfathers, the king of Bulgaria, and the king of Nisa, and the Emperour vsing his magnanimitie went also with him side by side, vntill he came to the Church of Saint Sofia, whereas the Cardinall of Constantinople sayde Seruice and did baptise him, and confirme his owne proper name, when this was done with all the solempnitie belonging, they retur∣ned againe vnto the Pallace, in the which vpon the one side was a verie faire Damzell, apparelled all in blacke, hauing no companie, but alonely one Page, shée hadde her beautifull eyes all swollen with wéeping, her countenaunce was very sadde, which did verie well declare the sorrowe of her heart, and beholding so noble a company to enter in, she was in qui∣et till such time as the Emperour entered, and by his side the king of Sardenia, who was meruailously well adorned, & of goodly greatnesse, and of faire and gentle disposition. This damzell did well know which was the Emperour, whom she did come to séeke for, so drawing nigh vnto him there distil∣led from her sorrowfull eies sa••t teares, resembling orientall pearles, which ranne downe ••er chéekes, giuing very sorow∣full and grieuous sighs, that all those which sawe her, were moued with compassion. The Emperour when he heard this heauie mourning▪ looked thetherward, and when he sawe her vsing his accustomed vertue▪ hée put himselfe before her,

And at such time as he would haue kné••led downe (hée sée∣ing hir so faire, and of so excellent beautie) wold not consent vnto it, but kept hir vp by the hand, and with swéete wordes gaue hir a comfortable welcome, and like entertainment. Hir seuere countenance, with hir well proportioned body did de∣clare that she was worthy of all this honour. To the com∣fortable words which the Emperour had spoken, this faire and distressed Lady aunswered.

Surmounted Emperour, this my great sorrow is so roo∣ted in me, that I haue no ioye to receiue any comfort, neuer∣thelesse, if it be true which I haue heard, both of thée and thy royall Court, the fame whereof, all the world doth resound: then I am sure that thou wilt not denie me of my request, for that hetherto thou hast not at any time denied any Lady or Damosell, which hath requested the same, hauing ne∣cessitie and néede thereof: much more now, béeing demaun∣ded of thée by so afflicted a Damosell as I am, being marti∣red by the sonne of that adultresse Venus, whom I may re∣semble vnto the Uulture, which alwaies taketh for hir repast and féeding, the bowells of that infortunate Ixion, and the more paine he suffereth, the more hir hunger increaseth, so that euermore by hir gréedines, he sustaineth a lasting grief, Euen so (soueraigne Lord) loue doth torment me, & alwayes is gnawing of these my afflicted bowels, yet neuer doo I feele them without loue, but rather alwaies, both in the Winter & Summer, in presence and in absence it doth still increase: so that I am at no time without loue, and continuallye my faith increaseth: and by no meanes can I receiue remedie for this griefe, but by the force and strength of some straun∣ger, whom I doo séeke for continually, with great sorrowe. Therefore I doo desire thée (O soueraigne Emperour) if at any time thou hast passed the paines of loue, that thou wol∣dest pitie them that are so sore afflicted and vnfortunate, and doo not denie me thy aide & helpe: for if I were the daugh∣ter of base parents, yet in respect I am a woman, thou arte bound to succour and aide me. Much more, for that I am Li∣dia the daughter of the King of Lidia, who for the loue of

that liberall Brenio of Lusitania, I am cōstrained to pro••ure his libertie, and for the perfourmance thereof, your highnes shall not denie me a promise or boone that I will demaund, & in so dooing, thou shalt performe all that is due vnto thy E∣state, and by duetie thou doost owe vnto such as I am.

The Emperour who was meruailous attentiue vnto all that this faire Ladie had sayd, & very much beholding hir great beau∣tie, he aunswered and sayd.

Of my faith faire Lady, I will not let to remedye this thy sorrowe much more then I am bound to doo by my high estate, and will procure by all meanes to ease this thy afflicted euill. Therefore now aske what thou séemest best for thy purpose, for I am héere ready to performe all, that by thée shall be demaunded of me. The Ladie sayd, I looked for no other thing but this, of thy Em∣periall dignitie. Therfore (••ouereign Emperour) it is requi∣site that alone without any other companie, you goe with me to giue me this remedye.

The Emperour although hée sawe that it was a haynous thing at that time to leaue his whole Court and estate, yet did he not showe any such coun∣tenance, but with a valiant courage he called for his armor, the which was straight way brought vnto him, being all of russet colour, and the shield of the same colour, and ther was portrayed in it the picture of leane Death, with a sharp flesh hooke in his hand. All the Kings and Lords that were pre∣sent at that time, would haue disswaded him from this his enterprise, but specially and aboue all the rest, the auncient Prince of Clarencia sayde.

Soueraigne Lorde, it is not conuenient nor agréeable vnto your high estate, to ven∣ture your selfe in that, which appertaineth vnto trauay∣ling and v••ntrous Knights: behold Lord, Princes, although they be liberall in promising, yet they ought to moderate themselues in performing, neither shuld Princes be so boun∣tifull of themselues: for many times by procuring to ex••oll their fame, they abate the worthinesse of their estate. And againe, he that hath not to whom to giue reckoning, but vn∣to himselfe, to him alone doth Fortune faile. Notwithstan∣ding,

thou (O souereigne Emperour) art more bounde to looke and haue a care vnto your owne subiects, more then to your owne person. And a good Prince ought rather to sub∣iect his will to the fauouring of his people, then to please his owne appetite. For which cause, honourable Lord, you must pardon vs, for that we will not willingly consent, that one∣ly for desire of this pompous same, that you doo pretende, we should loose your person. Tell me (noble Emperour) if that For••une shoulde (as she was woont to doo) tourne hir whéele, and kéepe your honour from vs, it would not onelye make an ende of you, but also depriue vs of the most noblest and worthiest Lord vnder the Sunne.

All those that were there present, and heard these reasons which the Prince vt∣tered, did greatly praise and allowe his discréete saieng. So this honourable Emperour without shewing any alterati∣on, aunswered and sayd.

Noble Kings and Princes, and my very friends. I giue you great thankes for the good will you doo showe mée, in that you would not that I shuld be absent from you: likewise you shall vnderstande, that it dooth as much grieue me, to seperate my selfe from your companyes, and I doo thinke my selfe blessed to haue such noble Knights as you bée vnto my subiects: notwithstanding you must con∣sider, that as you doo loue the bodie and person of your Prince, so likewise you should desire and procure his fame and honour, for you knowe you haue many meates that are verye sauourie to the taste of anie man, and yet to the con∣trarye verye hurtfull to the stomacke. It is a verye good thing to liue vnder compasse, and that gouerning is good, by the which fame and honour is not diminished, as this, for that he that is bounde, must procure, perfourme, and main∣tayne his promise. For if I of my owne frée will, and to féede myne owne appetite, hadde procured and mooued this iourney, you had had great reason for to haue disswaded mée, but béeing sought for, and procured héereto, by this noble and distressed Damosell for hir defence, then what reason is it that I shoulde abandon my faith? Tell mée

I praie you if now I should falsifie my promise, what hope of confidence heereafter shoulde remaine in you of my ver∣tue? Of truth I saie vnto you, that Prince which doth not keepe and maintaine his faith which hee hath promised in giuing his word••, hée is vnworthie of lyfe. And séeing that I haue graunted this iourney, although you be displeased therewith, I beséech you comfort your selues, for that by iu∣stice I am constrained to goe, trusting in almightie God to retourne againe vnto you with greate honour and renowne. What woulde the worlde saie, when that for feare of hu∣mane thinges I leaue to mainetaine iustice and righteous∣nesse, and the obseruation and kéeping of my worde? Surely they woulde report me for a Prince of small vertue, & déeme you (so perswading mée) not worthie of a good Prince, for y^• many times God doth shew his power, whereas the weak∣nesse of humane thinges be without all hope. Therefore I doo desire you all (my friendes) that you will not withdrawe mée from this my pretended purpose, for if I were not wil∣ling therevnto, you were all bound to complaine of mée.

And making an ende of these his reasons he began to arme him∣selfe. The Empresse that of all this thing was ignoraunt, when shée vnderstood therof by some of them that were pre∣sent with the Emperour, shée came with shedding of manye teares for to hinder and withdrawe him from his iourney: the Emperours heart was somewhat gréeued to heare hir sorrowfull words, but with an heroycall courage he com∣maunded her to returne vnto her closet, and willed all those that were present to goe and beare her companie, and would that none should remaine with him but Brandimardo, vnto whom the Emperour in greate secret sayd: That when Ro∣sicleer or the knight of the Sun should▪ returne to the court, that hee shoulde tell them that he was gone to Lidia at the instaunt of the Ladye, for to restore her againe to her king∣dome. With this he did charge him verie much, and that they shoulde straight wayes and without anie delaye de∣parte for that place: Brandimardo thought greate friend∣shippe in this which the Emperour commaunded, and gaue

him greate thankes, with faythfull promise to accomplish the same, and taking his leaue, the Emperour straight weie entered into a Foyst that was there readie with sixe oares on a side, and hoysing sayles they made such waie that in a small time they had lost the sight of the Citie. This faire Damosell was verie gladde, and did exercise her selfe in no other thing but in seruing the Emperour. In this sort they sayled all that daie and all the night till the next morning: this noble Emperour saie in the poope of the Galley, and by him sate this faire Ladie, on the one side, of whome hee as∣ked the cause why shée brought him out of Constantinople. Unto whome with manie teares distilling from her chri∣staline eyes, and with greate sighes that proceeded from her dolorous heart, she said.

I haue tolde you noble Emperour that the force of loue hath brought mée to this extremitie wherein you nowe sée me. Also I tolde you that I am Lidia, daughter vnto the king of Lidia, and was meruailously and daintely brought vp, and much set by of my parents, and now all alone with no other companie then you doo sée I goe subiect vnto this miserie. The great fame of this my surmounted beautie was so spred abroade, that it was the occasion that manye knightes of straunge Countryes resorted vnto the Court of the King my Father, and amongest them all there was one that came from a farre, whose name was called Brenio, of the Coun∣trie of Lusitania, beeing of a meruailous beautie and no lesse valiauncie, which did so surmount, that in all the Countrie hath neuer bene séene the like, and cruell Cupide, I knowe not whether it was to vse his accustomed pollicies, or whe∣ther he was enuious of his beautie, hée stroke mée with his poisoned arrowe, in such sort, that I was constrained by that force to loue this vnhappie knight, and therwith constrained to forget the roiall estate from whence I descended, I did exer∣cise my selfe in no other thing, but thinking on his loue, and determined to giue him vnderstanding thereof in as secrete wise as I could, so long it lasted that I waxed blinde in loue, & feared that he would not vnderstand y^t I loued him, where∣fore

I did plainly declare it to him, which gréeued him no∣thing at all, (but rather vnto my seeming) he was verie well pleased therewith, so by all meanes possible I did procure to speake with him, and imagining which shoulde be the best waie, I thought it good to ordaine a hunting, thinking there to haue opportunitie to be alone in the thickest of the For∣rest, and there to ease and lighten my selfe somewhat of that heauie loue, which by sorrow I receiued, in giuing him to vnderstand the whole effect of my determined minde: so this hunting I put in vre, and tooke the mountaines and woodes, and the hunts men prouided the ••ame, béeing a great Hart, which Hart was (as in the end it proued) accursed in my sight, yea, more worse then the shéeld of Pallas in the eyes of Medusa, which made all people to desire to followe her: so the hunts men followed their game with such hast, that there I was left alone, remaining only in my companie this knight, who was halfe perswaded of my determination, so I had scant well framed my eyes to content mée in behold∣ing of his christalline countenaunce, when that vppon a so∣deine we were beset and betrayed of a great and furious gy∣aunt, and with him eight knightes more, in such sorte, that my Brenio had not time to defend vs, nor I to call for helpe and succour, so that we were theyr prisoners, and they carri∣ed vs, and put vs into their théeuish Galley, whereas straight waye they hoised saile, and carryed vs to sea, wée béeing without all hope of succour, and there was I with greate trauaile deliuered from the hands of a vile théefe, that would haue dishonoured mée. And so hauing the winde prosperous to their desire, wée ariued verie shortly after at an Ilande called Otono, which is adioyning vnto one parte of your Kingdome, whereas wée went a lande. Noble Prince, I did not féele so much force by my imprisonment, neyther did I receiue so much griefe for mine own sorrow, as I did for my best beloued Brenio, who was so laden w^t yrons & chaines, that my heart coulde not by anie meanes suffer it, but I beganne to call them traitours, and that they were no Knightes, but théeues and robbers, saying, that ouer one ••∣lone

& an vnarmed Knight they haue strength to work such violence, but not able to make anie resistaunce against ar∣med Knightes. And the Gyaunt aunswered, Oh how sim∣ple doest thou shewe thy selfe, in thinking that there is anie who is able to resist our strength, and for that thou shalt vnderstande and see howe little wée doe estéeme the strength of men (yea, the strength of the Gods wée make no reckoning of) take this Gallie and all thinges that shall bee necessarie for thy voyage, and take with thée one of these my Pages, and goe and séeke the Emperour Trebatio, or ey∣ther of his two sonnes, whose fames are spread throughout the worlde, and bring them hether, and sée whether theyr strength is sufficient for to deliuer this thy knight out of prison. So I put this iourny straight in practise, & departed, and in the voyage I escaped with greate daunger to be rob∣bed at sea by rouers and théeues, so in the ende I came and presented my selfe before your highnesse.

The Emperour who was verie attentiue to all this which the sorrowfull Ladie had tolde him, and vnderstanding the cause of all her trouble, he answered.

Oh happie & venterous knight, to whō loue hath shewed so much fauour, to cause so n••ble as Dam∣sell as thou art, with thy trauaile to procure his libertie? how much is he bound vnto thée faire Ladie, seeing that thou do∣est deserue the praise of all other women that hath béene wounded with loue, & these thy déeds to be registred for a per∣petuall memorie, & for an example to all other ladies▪ Noble Lidia, of truth I tell thee, y^t my departure from Constantino∣ple was with some sorrow, to leaue my Empire and subiects, but now I am voide thereof, & am glad y^t I am come to pro∣cure thy remedie, & the death shal be vnto me a happie death, receiuing it for a ladie that is so loiall.

These & such like rea∣son of a perfect louer y^• Emperour expressed, when vpon a so∣daine they were constrained to leaue the waye they tooke, by force of y^• wind, which came with such gales, that they were faine to take another waie, which carried them vnto a deso∣late Iland, wher by force of wether they entered into a port, y^t was knowen by the marriners, & there let fall their ankor▪

The Emperour who was mooued with much compassion of the great trauaile of this Ladie, and somewhat to refresh hir in the aire, he caused hir to goe a lande, and taking hir by the hande, he did helpe hir out of the Gallie, and they rested themselues vpon a little mountaine, from which place they might discouer a great parte of the Ilande, and more they discouered a great way from thence, another smal moū∣taine, vpon the which there séemed to be a fire, or light, and making little account thereof, they asked somewhat to eate, which straight way was brought them by the marriners, & so they refreshed themselues. They had scarce made an end of eating, when that they heard a terrible shrike, which was such, that the faire Lady lost hir colour: but the Emperour rose vp on his feete, and looked round about him to sée if he could perceiue what it shuld be, but he could sée no more thē, than he sawe at the first, and so retourned and sate down a∣gaine: but he was not scant setled, when he heard the lyke shrike again. The Emperour turned and rose vp the second time, and said: Who art thou, that dost thinke to make me afraide with these thy shrikes, I tell thée that thou art verie much deceiued: thou wilt rather giue me occasion thus in offending me, to séeke what thou art that makest this terri∣ble noyse. And with these words he sayd vnto the Lady, that she should returne vnto the galley, for that he would goe sée what thing it should be, the which she would not consent vn∣to, but would néedes goe in the company of the Emperour. And when the Emperour saw the determination of y^• cou∣ragious Damosell, he threwe his shield vpon his arme, and laced and made fast his healme, and so a foote they tooke their waye towards the place whereas the light was, for that to∣wardes that parte they heard the noyse. And trauailing in the middest of the waye, at the foote of a hill, they found an Image of fine Christall, which séemed to be wrought by the handes of some excellent workeman, all to be spotted with bloud. And it appeared by the woundes that were formed in the same figure, that it was the Image of one that had suffered great torments, as well with terrible cuttings,

of yrons, as with cruell whippings. The legs and the armes did seeme as though they had bene martired and wrong with cordes, and about the necke, as though it had bene strangled with a towell hard wrong, and there was written vpon the breast, with letters of liuely bloud, this Epitath. I am Herea the Kings daughter of Cimarra, violated and slaine by No∣raldino King of Numidia. And thou knight that this present spectacle shalt viewe, I doo desire thee, that if thou dost goe forward this way, let it be with great courage, for to take ven∣geaunce on this crueltie, for that I am not of my selfe able to seeke reuengement. This Emperour, who had wel considered y^• great crueltie y^t had bene vsed against that infortunate la∣die, being moued with great compassion he sayd, I doo vow that if there be any meanes whereby to be reuenged of this thy death, to procure it with all my power: and with this determined purpose, they proceeded on their waye, and went so farre, that they perceiued, that the light which they hadde séene, did procéede of two gates of fine Christall: and there they sawe in the high way, a great pillar, whereon was han∣ged a written table, with these contents: Knight, looke wel vnto the oath which thou hast taken, for that this is a perilous enterprise: and from this place thou hast license to retourne backe a gaine, and not to fulfill thy promise, for that the King of Cimarra, will not constraine nor force any manner of Knight. The Emperour said, As well they maye raise from death to life all the famous Romanes, which haue ben from the time of Romulus vnto Caesar, and all the rest vnto this time, as to perswade me to retourne from my promise, which I haue made: and if they were all present liuing, they were not sufficient to cause me to leaue my oath. Therfore héere now I doo sweare again, neuer to returne into Greece, till such time, as I haue performed that which I haue sayd. And thus burning with great desire to sée y^e end of this sor∣rowfull aduenture, he procéeded forwardes, vntill such time as they came to the Christall gates, the which they founde open, and at the threshold•• of the entring there laye a long a greate and huge Gyaunt, who when he saw this knight,

he arose on his féete and went vnto a place thereby, whereas was made fast to a piller a verie furious griffon, which with greate spéede he did vnloose out of his chaines, and hée was no sooner at libertie, but that with great furie he flew vp into the aire more swifter then an Eagle, and as you dooe see a Hawke houering in the ayre, till such time as the Hearn•• riseth out of the water, and then with greate furie falleth downe right on her praie, so likewise this furious Griffon when he sawe his time, with a meruailous and infernall fu∣rie descended right downe, but when the Emperour sawe that he descended with such furie, hée caused the Ladie to shrowd her selfe vnder an olde house that was there at hand, and hee couered himselfe with his shéelde, and hauing his swoorde in his hande at that time as the Griffon descended with so great violence (that it somewhat feared the Empe∣rour) notwithstanding hée lifted his shéelde for to receiue that terrible blowe of his clawes, which fall was with so greate force, that he pulled the shéeld cleane from his arme, but this valiant warriour stroke him such a blowe with his swoord, y^• he thought hée had cut him in two péeces; but yet he found his feathers to be so harde, that he had done him no harme, and although his hard feathers did defend him, not to receiue anie hurt with the swoorde, yet it could not bée but hée must néedes féele some griefe by the greatnesse of the blowe, for that with a greeuous shrike he mounted vp into the ayre, giuing a thousande tournings. When the Emperour sawe himselfe without his shéelde, which that infernall Bird had carryed with him into the aire, and let it fall downe againe a great wayes distant from the same place where he was, it made him to haue alwayes a verie good and diligent eie, to y^• griffon to marke when he would descend, who straight way began to descende, vnto his thinking with much more furie then at the first. And looke euen as the Eagle when shée hath caught a Uiper, dooth procure to pull off her skinne in striking her vppon a harde stone, whereby to saue her selfe that she be not striken with that strong poison, and so in

safetie to deuour her praie: euen so did this Griffon flying heere and there from one place to another, to see where hee might laye holde on the Emperour, without receiuing such lyke harme as before hée did. And as by force of the wa∣ter the Mill carryeth the stone about with greate furie, euen so this worthie warriour bestowed himselfe for to defende him from this furious beast, yet he coulde not doo so much, but that he must néedes receiue some of his terrible blowes, and his swiftnesse was such in rising into the ayre, and fal∣ling downe, that hée coulde not fasten one blow on him with his swoorde, but he did hurt the Emperour with his clawes sometimes on the armes and sometimes on the healme, but yet coulde he neuer haue anie fast holde on him to doo him harme, for that he neuer stoode still, but moouing héere and there, shunning his blowes, & euen as a furious Lyon, who in the time of sléepe is molested and troubled with small beasts, créeping on him in all places, which he féeling with his mouth, snappeth héere and there on euerie parte rounde a∣bout, so long, til in y^e end being throughly incēsed, at once they paie for all the iniuries that they did him: euen so this vali∣aunt Emperour vsed himselfe with this terrible Griffon, flourishing with his swoorde round about on euerie side, a∣waiting opportunitie at one time to requite him for all the sorrowe that hée did him, but in the ende séeing that it did little profit him in dooing this, he sodeinly bethought him of another remedie, which was to kneele downe with one of his knees on the grounde, that when the Griffin shoulde descend more lower to hurt the Emperour, that then with as great lightnesse as he coulde, he woulde rise vp, and with more ease strike him, which he presently did put in practise, So this terrible Griffon descended downe, and with one of his sharpe clawes he clasped fast holde on the Emperours healme. Then the Emperour seeing this fierce Griffon now to descend down more lower then he did before at other times, he thought it not good to be idle at anie time, but with exceeding greate lightnesse he arose vp and carryed

his swoord right vp with the point, and by reason that he•• was fast with his clawes vpon the helme, hée could not loose himselfe so quickly, but that the Emperour did hurt him in such sorte, that he thrust all his swoord into his bellie. And when the Griffin felt himselfe so sore hurt, he pulled with so great strength, that if the helme had not left his head, he had pulled the Emperour vp into the aire with him, which wold not haue fallen out well with him, but God was so pleased, that in that time the lases with the which it was made fast brake. This Griffin féeling himselfe pearced with this mor∣tall wound, cut through the aire, as a whirlwind, with great and terrible shrikes, but straight hée fell downe dead to the earth, for that the wounde reached vnto his heart.

The Giaunt when he behelde his Griffin to be dead, made no more a doo, but entred into the castle to arme him∣selfe, the which the Emperour well perceiued, which made him to make spéede to fetch his shéeld, whereas this infernal birde had let it fall. So not long after this gyant came forth al armed with armour of a boyled skinne, with a great club full of knots in his hande, saying with a hoarse and terrible voice. Doe not thinke thou knight of the Diuell, for all that thou hast slaine the kéeper of my Castell, that the entering is anie whit the more at thy commaundement, and héereof thou maist be sure, whereat the Emperour answered neuer a word, but rather inuited him to battel, & they ioyned together like two furious tygers, hauing their defence in their hands, burning with great fury the one against the other. Then they thrust themselues forwardes with meruailous force and spéede one against another, discharging their great and mightie blowes that it was wonderfull to beholde. But the Emperour did not determine to receiue the blowes of his enimie fullie and whole, but rather procured that he shoulde discharge them in vaine, and so hée did, for the Gyaunt lift vp his greate and huge clubbe to strike him therewith a maruailous and mightie blowe, which when the Emperour perceiued it to descend, he stepped a side w^t so great lightnesse, that it séemed to be wonderfull, in such sort that his clubb••

fell downe to the ground without doing anie harme. Then this valiaunt warriour before the Gyaunt had time to re∣couer and lift vp his heauie club againe, stroke him on both his armes such a terrible and furious blow, that he cut them both off, and they fell to the ground. When the Gyant sawe himselfe so sore arayed, like a rauening. Woulfe he ranne to him and would haue imbraced him, but the Emperour with his accustomed knighthoode gaue a thrust at his breast, that by the great strength thereof he thrust his swoorde cleane through his bodie, so that the point came out at his backe al∣most the halfe swoord, wherewith this Gyant gaue so great a fall to the earth, that it séemed a whole Towre had tum∣bled downe. When the Emperour sawe this good successe he had against his enimies, and in so short time, hee knéeled downe vpon his knées, and gaue thankes vnto our Lord Ie∣su Christ for the victorie, in ouercomming two such infernal monsters as they were. The faire Ladie séeing the Empe∣rour in battaile with so diuellish a monster, ranne and fetch∣ed his helme which the Griffon had carried awaie, & brought it vnto him with all the spéede that might be. The Empe∣rour who perceiued the great care which this Ladie had, and the diligence she vsed to helpe him in so great néede, he gaue her heartie thankes, and tooke his helme and put it on his head, and made it fast, and when he saw that there was none to dis••urbe him of his entering into the Castell, he went vn∣to the doore whereas he found the Gyaunt lying along at the thresholde, and entered in thereat, and lead this faire Ladie with him by the hande, for that shée woulde ne∣uer leaue him, and so they entered in at the Castle gates, without finding anie to disturbe them, and passed on till they came vnto a faire large and great hall, whereas by certaine windowes verie subtilly deuised from the toppe thereof they receiued light, and in the middest thereof was a stately bedde, adorned all with blacke clothes, and vppon the bedde was the perfect figure of that Image of Christall, which they sawe in the middest of the high waye. The Emperour could not by anie manner of meanes refraine from shedding

of some sorrowfull teares, in séeing before him so lamenta∣ble a spectacle, and to thinke that so greate crueltie shoulde be shewed vnto a womā of such beau••ie. This pittiful Em∣perour had great compassion when he saw first the counter∣fait of this tormented creature, but much more without all comparison, his sorrowfull heart lamented when hee beheld the naturall bodie, for that all her flesh séemed to be christal∣line stones, by the greate whitenesse and beautie it had, shée had all her legges spoiled with the torments of cordes, and all her bodie wounded with whippings, and that cruell and str••ng••ing to well about her necke. The Emperour was a greate while in greeuous contemplation in beholding of this lamentable sigh•• (as I haue tolde you) and with him was al∣waies this fayre and beautifull Lidia, till at the last, lif∣ting vp his eyes, he sawe a Table which hanged vppon a beame, whereon was written these wordes which follow∣eth.

O thou knight which hast passed by the kéepers of this my pittifull daughter, if thou wilt confirme the oath which thou hast made, lift vp the pillowe whereas her wre••ched head doth lye, and vnder it thou shalt finde written in a scrowle of Parchment all the successe of her heauie and sorrowfull death, for that in vnderstanding it, thou shalt be the more prouoked to incourage thy selfe to procure her re∣uengement, seeing that so much without fault or desert she suffered it. The Emperour did as was there declared, and ra∣tified and confirmed there a new his oath, and lifting vp the pillowe he found a shéete of Parchment rolled vp together, which he opened. Héere will I make an ende of this Chap∣ter, to receiue some ease in telling of this that is past, & turne vnto the other, to declare vnto you the most dolorus and grée∣uous historie that euer hath bene heard or séene.

¶How the Emperour did open the scrowle of Parchment, and therein read the cause why this dead Ladie was slaine, with such cruell tyrannie, and of the great sorrow that hee receiued for the same. Cap. 12.

YE faire Ladies and Damosells, for that ther be some, which without hauing anye know∣ledge of your deseruings, that take great ple∣sure with their venemous words & poysoned pennes to intreate euill of your honors and fame, publishing vniustly that, which with iust reason and by nature, they are bound with all their abi∣litie to restraine. Likewise, all valyaunt Knights, are bound either by force of armes, or els by sufficient conclusions, to defend your fame, from such false detractors. So heere ther∣fore I doo request, all you bountifull and beautifull Ladies, to pardon this my ouer much hardinesse, for that heere I presume to declare that, which should be of all vnderstood, & in especiall of your firme loyaltie, hauing for a mirrour be∣fore your eyes this faire Lady, who hath not deserued to suf∣fer so cruell a death. So as I haue tolde you, the Emperor tooke from vnder the pillowe, the scroll of parchment, and opening it he read it ouer, which contained these sorowfull words.

I the heauie and vnhappie King of Cimarra, which in times past haue bene much estéemed, by reason of my great estate, wherein Fortune sauoured me very much, as also for two faire daughters, in all poynts so exquisite, as Na∣ture could possibly frame, in whom I tooke much delight but yet in the end, that which I thought shuld most content me, the very same was the occasion, y^t I receiued this great tor∣ment, which is such, y^t no humane creature can suffer it. My two daughters (as before I said) were indued with wonder∣full beautie, & accompanied with no lesse honestie then was conuenient for their high estate: whose great fame was bla∣zed all the world ouer, by reason wherof my court was ho∣nored w^t diuers strange princes & knights, & specially with those of Africa, so y^t it grew to be y^e most noblest court that euer king had. Some came to see y^e worthy knights, & ••thers with great desire to marrie with my daughters▪ but aboue all the king of Numidia called Noraldino, who being absent by y^e ••ame of their surmounted beauties was taken prisoner

for the loue of them, by force whereof he sent vnto mée his Embassadours, desiring me that I would thinke wel of him, and to giue him one of my daughters in marriage, so (not respecting his accustomed treason, but rather considering the great honour that might redound thereof for that hée was a mightie Prince) I thought it good to conclude with his Em∣bassadours, and to fulfil his desire, and graunted him in mar∣riage my eldest daughter. Then I ordeining all things that were necessarie and needfull for the same, in all respects con∣uenient for her estate and my honour, I sent her with all the pompe y^t was possible to the kingdome of Numidia, & I retained and kept in my companie the youngest, who was named Herea, béeing of farre more beautie then her sister, of which this traiterous and vnnaturall king was informed by them which he sent to companie with my daughter, they did so much exalt her for her surpassing beautie, that there was not in him power to make anie resistaunce against that cru∣ell and mortall wound of Cupide, but it constrained him to forget his new married wife & swéete companion, surrende∣ring himselfe wholy vnto the power of y^e absent Ladie, with∣out anie consideratiō that she was sister vnto her, that he had alreadie taken for wife. So this disordinate loue kindled and increased in him euerie daie more and more, and he was so troubled with this new desire, that he daily deuised with him selfe what meanes he might procure to obtaine her, in such sort, that no man might haue power to withstand him. In the ende he thought by pollicie and deceit to get her home to his kingdome, and sent vnto me, requesting that I would let her to come vnto her sister Melinda to beare her companye, for that therein shée shoulde receiue great ioye and com∣fort, to passe awaie the troublesome time of her Sisters bée∣ing with childe, for that shée sayde, with her companye shée shoulde thinke the time farre more shorter, and shoulde passe it ouer with much more ease, especially for that the loue she bare her sister was so much as to her owne selfe, and although I was not aduertised of the euill euent which might happen in sending her, yet did I make excuse, that

by reason I was an olde man, and had no other com••orte but hir, I durst not send hir, neither suffer hir to vnderstand thereof, for that as I did suppose, she would receiue gre•••• griefe to leaue me alone and desolate of comfort. At y^• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 aunswere this inhumane King thought very much, and was greatly grieued: notwithstanding with meruailous 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and subtiltie he did dissemble it, till such time as my daugh∣ter Melinda his wife, should be brought to bed and deliue∣red, and then thinking that with the great ioye and plea∣sure I should receiue for the birth of the new born infant, that I woulde not denye the sending of hir. So the ••ime expired, he sent to me againe for hir: but I was alwayes firme, béeing resolued not to let hir goe from me, but still denied it, for that she was the whole ioye and s••affe of my olde age. Then this trayterous King séeing that by no meanes he could get hir from me, straight way ordayned a mightie and strong armie, and came himselfe to fetche her. And when I vnderstood of his comming, I went to receiue him with great pompe, as was néedefull for our Estates: and at our meeting, he requested me with very faire and lo∣uing wordes, that I would let my daughter goe vnto her sister, to giue her that contentment which she desired, for that she did loue hir more than hir selfe. Thus his craftie and subtill perswasions so much preuayled, by reason of the humilitie and loue he shewed in his wordes, that I coulde not frame any excuse to the contrary, (he was so importu∣nate,) but must néeds consent vnto his demaund. O immor∣tall Gods, that in so secret wise ye made the heart of man, that you onely can comprehende the good and euill that is hid in it. Who would haue thought, (much lesse haue belee∣ued) that this traiterous King by his swéete wordes and subtill speaches would haue robbed me of my onely daugh∣ter. So straight waye, when he had in his power, y^t which his soule so much desired, he would not make any delay of his departure, giuing me to vnderstande, that he would not let any time, but carrie hir vnto his wife, for whose sight so much she had desired, and at whose comming she would re∣ceiue

great ioy & contentment. But what sorrow did I then féele, (nothing thinking of that which shoulde happen, for that my heart was ignoraunt of the knowledge thereof) but to see hir depart from me, for whose absence my heart remai∣ned in so great sorrowe and heauinesse: giuing to vnderstand by the outward showes, & by the teares that procéeded from my eyes, the great paine and passion that the lacke thereof wold shortly procure: & in this sorrowfull sort, I was forced almost without any remembraunce, to retourne vnto y^e pal∣laice. And they were not so soone entred into his ships, but as one very gelous to keepe close his treason, he commaun∣ded straight to hoyse vp sayles, and commit them vnto the winde, and hauing too good and prosperous a weather, in a very short time he arriued in his owne Countrie, whereas two leagues from the Citie, he was receiued of his subiects with great maiestie, who brought with them both horse and Palfrayes néedfull for the companie. So beeing all in a rea∣dinesse, he commaunded that they should beginne to martch forward towards the Citie. This false King still persisting in his euill determined purpose, commaunded (as I sayde,) that all the company should procéed forwards, and he with my sorrowfull daughter Herea, remained a good waye be∣hinde. And when he sawe his company so farre before, and they two alone together, he stepped on the one side, and ledde the waye into a little groue which was hard at hande, fast by a Riuers side. He without any more tarrieng, carried hir into the thickest part therof, and as it appeared he was well acquainted in the same, and where he thought it most con∣uenient, he alighted off from his horse, and willed my most welbeloued daughter that she shoulde likewise alyght. Shée in whose heart raigned no kinde of suspition, alyghted, and sa••e hir downe by the Riuers side, and washed hir fayre white handes, and refreshed hir mouth with the same wa∣ter. Then this dissembling traytor could not refrayne, but by some outward showes, and darke sentences, gaue hyr to vnderstande, the kindeled fire of loue, with the which he was tormented, and in the ende he did wholy declare his diuelish

pretence and determined purpose towards hir. So my lo∣uing daughter Herea, being ••ore troubled with his impor∣tunate and continuall requests, with great anger, yet not without aduisement, she began to reprehende him, giuing him to vnderstand, all that was needfull against so diuelish a pretence. This vncleane King when he heard, that so ear∣nestly and contrary to his expectation she aunswered, and would haue rose vp from the place whereas she sate, helde hir fast by hir apparayle, and would not suffer hir to arise, but began with softe and milde wordes to perswade hir to be quiet, and sayde. O my best beloued Ladie, wherefore wilt thou consent, that for thy cause I shoulde dye, & mayst now very well without being discouered of any, giue mee remedie for the same? Be not then obstinate to denye mée that, which with so great loue I doo desire of thee. Who is heere that can beare witnesse of this my priuie desire, and bolde enterprise, neither discouer thy gentle liberalitie shew∣ed me? not one surely, but onely the immortall Gods. Un∣derstande this for a certaintie (my swéete Ladye) that the God Iupiter doth receiue more griefe in this my sorrowe, then in the paine which thou dost suffer. This deceiued da∣mosell, when she sawe that he held hir so fast with his tre∣cherous hande, that she could not deliuer hir selfe, with furious anger she sayde. Traytor doo not thou thinke that these thy lecherous words haue power to moue my hearte, to graunt and fulfill these thy filthie, diuelish, and lasciuious thoughts: for héere I doo sweare vnto thee by the high and soueraigne Gods, that first I will permit & suffer my body to bée torne in péeces, then to open my eares vnto the hea∣ring of so great treason. Therefore false King let me alone, and consider with thy selfe, that I am sister vnto thy wife, whome I sée well thou hast forgotten, by reason of this thy insatiable dronkennesse, and greedye desire of fit••hye lust. Therefore if it please thée determine to let mee alone, and defile me not, or else to the contrarie bee fully perswa∣ded of this, that I will rather dye the death in my defence. Then this cursed king séeing that this shalt Ladye,

did defend her selfe, he tooke fast holde by her necke, and said. Doe not thou thinke O cruell Herea, that thou canst dely∣uer thy selfe out of my handes, except first thou graunt vnto this my desired will, and if not, I doo promise thée in pay∣ment of this great pride which thou doest vse vnto me, to put thee vnto the most cruell ••eath that euer was deuised for a∣nie Damosell or mai••e. This distressed Ladie was nothing dismaide to heare that shée shoulde die, but without all feare she aunswered. Thinke not false traitour, that the feare of death shall cause mee to yéeld to thy filthie desire. The which béeing well vnderstoode by the king, he sayde. Understande then and bée well perswaded, that either liuing or dead I will performe my will and pretended purpose, which so with∣out measure and with vnquenchable fire doth burne in my heart. Thus with great strength she did defend her selfe, and with a manly courage she kepte her honour, but this cruell and lasciuious king séeing that he coulde not fulfill his euill desire, in a greate madnesse he cut off a greate parte of the traine of her gowne, and bound it verie fast to the haire of her head, in such sort, that with the great strength he put thereto, and the tendernesse of the same, together with his euill in∣treating, all the greene grasse was sprinkeled with the bloud that issued out, whereat he beléeued that she would haue ben quiet, and haue consented vnto him, but she respected not the euill intreating, but the more he procured to torment her, the more angrie she shewed her selfe against him with continu∣all deniall. When this cruell traitour sawe that all woulde not serue, he beganne to forget all faith and loyaltie he ought ••nto knighthoode, and the respect he shoulde haue vnto such as she was, but blasphemed against heauen, and tearing her clothes all to péeces, he stripped her starke naked, and with the raines of the bridle of his palfraie hée all to be whipped and scourged her white and tender backe, that it was full of viewe spottes, with such horrible crueltie that it was a verie greeuous and sorrowfull ••ight to beholde. And yet th•••• did pro••it him nothing at all: hee séeing that this da∣mosell did still perseuer and continue in her defence, hée

straight wayes lyke a bloudie monster heaped crueltie vp∣pon crueltie, and tooke and bounde her▪ well proportioned and christalline armes and legges with cordes, and made them fast verie strongly vnto a trée, saying. O cruell and more cruell then euer anie woman in all the worlde hath béene, wherefore hast thou béene the occasion to bring thy selfe to bée thus so euill and mischieuously intreated, and onely for not giuing consent vnto him, which alwayes woulde haue procured thy ease? What dooest thou thinke, is it better to suffer to be thus martyred, then to liue a most louing, swee••e, and contented lyfe. Then this euill intreated Ladie with a hoarse voyce aunswered and sayde vnto him. Oh wicked traytour, more harde hearted then euer knight hath béene, wherefore dooest thou make anie delaye, tell mée thou enimie to the Gods, why dooest thou not finish thy crueltie, and take the soule from this my miserable and wofull bodie? Doest thou not doo it, be∣cause it shall not goe and complaine whereas thou shalt receiue the rewarde of this thy mercilesse inhumanitie. O you Gods, denie mée not my right iustice against this false and traiterous king? Let not to be true executioners of iu∣stice in reuenging so dampnable a deede. And thus beeing wear••ed with the cruell and terrible torments, shée held her peace and sayde no more. But for all this, the king did not let to prosecute his crueltie, and with great anger he looked on her, hauing his accursed eyes fixed, in such sorte that he coulde not withdrawe them backe. Then this tormented Ladie séeing him, and béeing verie desirous of the death, with a furious voyce she sayde: What dooest thou thinke thou traitour, the greatest traitour that euer was in the world, wherein dost thou contemplate thy selfe, thou fleshly Butcher, thou vnmercifull Tyger, thou lecherous hogge and dishonourer of the royall crowne, make an ende of these thy tormentes, for it is nowe too late to repent thée, giue mée the death, and sende mée into the bosome of Diana. This vnpittifull king, seeing the stedfastnesse that shee hadde in the defence of her honour, with a cruell and infernall

heart, hée tooke a towell which this Damosell had girded at her wast, and with a brutall anger doubled it about hir neck and pinched it so straight that the soule departed from the bodie. O thou knight that by thy prowesse doest come to read this Harchment, consider the greate constancie and chastitye of this vnfortunate Damosell, and let the griefe thereof moue thee to take vengeaunce of this greate crueltie, shewed with∣out anie desert. So when this infernall king sawe that shée was dead, hee tooke his horse and returned from whence hee came, and in a short time he ouertooke his companie, and loo∣ked with so furious and irefull a countenaunce, that there was not one that wae so hardie to aske him where my daughter was, but one of the knightes of my Court which I sent to beare companie with my daughter, hauing a suspiti∣on by the great alteration that appeared in the king, and bée∣ing verie desirous to knowe what was become of the Prin∣cesse, for that he came alone without bringing her with him, neither coulde he haue anie sight of her, hee then pre∣sentlye withdrewe himselfe backe, and following the foot∣ings of the horse, he ceased not vntill he came vnto the place whereas this crueltie was wrought, whereas hée found this miserable Ladie lie dead, in the same sorte as I haue decla∣red, at the viewe whereof he remained almost beside him∣selfe, in such sorte that he had almost fallen to the grounde. This Knight remained a good while before he could speake, so when he was come againe to himselfe, hée beganne with a dolorous complaint, crying out against the Gods and for∣tune, because they had suffered so greate crueltie to bée com∣mitted vnto this damosell, and making this sorrowfull com∣plaint, hée vnloosed her from the trée, and layde her vppon parte of her apparell, and couered her with the rest, and sayde on this wise: O cruell handes, what an infernall heart was that, which did beare thée companie to doe this vncha∣ritable sacrifice? Was it not sufficient that this surmoun∣ted beautie should haue mooued thée to more pittie. So with these and other lyke sorrowfull wordes that this knight spake vnto the dead corps, he cut downe braunches from the

trées for to couer the bodie, and left it lying so, that it sée∣med to be a mountaine of gréene trées, & then determined with himselfe in the best manner that he coulde to dissemble the knowledge of this fact done, hée tooke his horse and went the waie towardes the Citie which lead to the kings Court, in which he rode so fast that he ouertooke the king and his companie at the entering into the Citie, whereas the king a∣lighted, and without speaking to anie person he entered into his close••, by reason whereof this my knight had time to de∣clare vnto the Quéene all that he had seene, and the dolorous ende of the Damosell Herea her sister. The sodayne and vn∣looked for sorrowe mixed with great anger and wrath, was such in this quéene, that she commaunded the knight not to depart the court vntill such time as more occasion did serue, and she her selfe remained making meruailous and great lamentations to her selfe, all in secret, for that she woulde not be perceiued, yet with a soft voice she sayd: O vnfortu∣nate queene and borne in a sorrowfull houre, oh vnhappie destinie, which madest me to be subiect vnto the most cruel∣lest king amongst all kings, I suppose y^• fortune cannot be so much against me, but y^t she will procure to take reuenge∣ment of thee? Oh immortall Gods reuēg•••• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 this so great and horrible an homicide, and if not, I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••eare vnto you that I will with my owne hands put in practise such an enterprise, that you looking downe from the heauens shall tremble for the feare thereof? What doo ye, you deafe Gods, altogether without iustice, will you not hearken vnto this my gréeuous complaint, wel séeing you regard me not, I wil sée if y^t you haue power to withdrawe me from executing of mine own will. This saying she ••ooke in her hand a dagger of the kings, and in her armes her youngest sonne, saying: I do not wish so much euill vnto the world, y^t I will leaue the sonne of so wicked a father to soiourne in it, & in this or∣der she entered into the chamber wheras the king was, and there she founde him tumbling vppon his bedde from the one side to the other, without taking anie rest, and with sorrowfull wéeping, and a terrible voyce, she called him

traytor, and like a fierce Tygresse with the dagger, which she carried, she cut the throate of that innocent infant, and threwe it to him on the bedde and sayde, take there thou cru∣ell traytour, the fruite which thou madest within my body, and then she threwe the dagger after him to kill the King: but Fortune would not that it shuld take effect. This wret∣ched King, when he sawe all this which the Quéene hadde done, he was therewith maruelous sore troubled, and in his furie, he layde hold vpon hir, and did intreate hir very euil. But when the Quéene sawe that the blowe tooke no effect, & that she could not bring to passe that which she had deter∣mined, she returned vpon hir selfe hir outragious furie, ta∣king that bloudie dagger, & thrust it to hir hart, in such sort, that she parted it in two péeces, and so she fell downe dead into the armes of him, which was the occasion of all this euill and crueltie. The great sorrowe that this false and and vnhappie King receiued was straunge, in such sort, that he knewe not what counsell to take, but thinking vpon the great punishment that might succéede these cruell actes, hée straight waies procured y^t the bodie of the quéene shoulde be buried in great 〈◊〉〈◊〉. At that time there was a soothsayer, a wise-man in 〈…〉〈…〉, who aduertised him, y^t for this cruell fact which 〈…〉〈…〉, his kingdome shuld be destroy∣ed, and that it shoulde fall into the handes of him which he most hated, who was his brothers sonne, his cousin. The King béeing aduertised of all that which should happen, hée determined to vse a cruell pollicie, which was, hée woulde set watch and warde throughout all his Kingdome, for to take and arest all such trauellers, as by aduenture landed vppon his Ilande, not suffering them to passe, till such time as they hadde promised him by oath to ayde and assist him euen vnto the death against certaine his enimies, which wold dispossesse him of his Kingdome, ma••••ng them beléeue that vniustlye and without occasion, they intended to take it from him. Then this my aforenamed Knight, which had séene and hearde all the tragicall dealing that is héere declared, in the best wise he coulde, retourned againe to my

Court, and tolde me all that you haue heard, which was vn∣to me verie sorrowfull and heauie newes. Iudge heere then gentle Knight what sorrowe I poore and vnfortunate king receiued, and what bitter anguish I sustained. So heerewith entered in the great soothsayer and wise man, called Artemi∣doro, who came to comfort me, and certefied me, that all this crueltie should be reuenged by a mightie and strong arme, although before that should come to passe, there shoulde bée fought manie fierce battailes, and perswaded me to beléeue it, for that he tolde me the truth. So because that this wise man was so well knowen, I did beléeue him, and gaue cre∣dite vnto his words, and requested him for his part, to pro∣cure all that in him did lye, to preferre this my reuengment. So straight way he put it in practise, and caused a Chariot to be brought, and bad me enter into it, and in a trice he ca∣ried me whereas my daughter was, and commaunded me to put hir into the Chariot, and brought hir vnto this Ilande, assuring me, that he which should ouercome y^e kéepers which he would héere set, should be the Knight, that should reuenge my iniurie. And seeing that thou hast ouercome the kéepers that had the charge of the body of this my murdred daugh∣ter, perfourme now the oath which thou hast made lyke a valyaunt Knight: and for the better performaunce, thou must goe vnto Cimarra, whereas thou shalt finde me the vn∣fortunate King thereof, awaiting thy comming.

At the reading of this sorrowfull historie, the Emperour and she that was with him did shed many salt teares, wher∣with there did increase in him a farther desire of reuenge∣ment. And so they departed to the Sea side, whereas they did refresh themselues, and returned vnto their voyage late begun.

¶How the Emperour Trebatio did lande himselfe at the Ilande Citarea, and of all things that happe∣ned there. Cap. 13.

HEere you haue heard tolde howe that after the Emperour had read the scrowle of parch∣ment that was written and laide vnder the pillowe at the head of the dead bodie of the Ladie Herea, how he returned to prosecute his iourney which he had taken in hand for the defence of the faire Lidia, and howe that they did im∣barke themselues in their Galley, and the sea béeing pacifi∣ed of that boistrous tempest which they receiued in their last voyage, the Gallie satled forwards with a verie good and prosperous winde the space of thrée dayes without meeting with anie aduenture. In the ende whereof they landed at the Iland of Otonio, which by another name is called Citarea, which straight waie was knowen by that faire Ladie to bée the Iland where her beloued Brenio was, and she sayd vn∣to the Emperour. Lorde, this is the Ilande that keepeth hid from me the whole comfort of my heart. So straight waye the Emperour went a lande and tooke with him the fayre Lidia, and commaunded that his horse and his Speare, and the Ladyes palfra••e shoulde likewise be ••aken out of the Galleye, and when the Emperour hadde well perused his armour, he armed himselfe, and tooke the waie which lead him towards the Castell, leauing on the right hande the famous Temple, which from farre did shew the greate sumptuousnesse thereof, in the gate whereof they did disco∣uer and sée an armed Knight, who contemplated himselfe in beholding the greatnesse of that Knight. But the Empe∣rour had no care to knowe who it was, but with greate hast they went forwards on their waie, and when they drew nigh vnto the Castell, it séemed vnto them to bee the fairest that euer they had seene, and as the Emperour proceeded to goe vp the hill towarde the Castell, hée hearde one which with a greate voice sayde. O thou Knight of the Diuell or of death, goe no farther vp, but tarrie a little, for by her which thou doest bring with thée I doo vnderstande thy de∣maunde, staie a while and I will be straight waie with thée, for I thinke that thou hast alreadie repented thy comming

hether. The Emperour who heard these wordes, would ve∣rie faine haue seene him who spake them, and lifted vp his eyes towardes the Castell, but he coulde beholde no bodie. But hée tarried not long, when that out of a narrowe waie comming downe the hill he sawe a great Gyaunt, shaking in his hande a heauie Speare, and when he came to the place whereas the Emperour abode, he sayde. Knight, tell me, art thou the Emperour of Grecia or any of his sonnes. The Em∣perour aunswered and sayde, I am he (who by the helpe of God) may frustrate thy force which thou hast done vnto this Damosell. Then the Gyant sayd, O miserable wretch, how thou art deceiued, what doest thou thinke thy selfe so strong and to haue so much strength to doe that alone, which all the worlde is not able to vndoe, and with greate anger for the wordes which he heard the Emperour speake, he tooke his Speare and did leuell it in his hande, and threwe it at the Emperour with such furie, that the aire did sounde therwith, the Emperour made his defence and receiued it vppon his shéelde, and the point slidde in such sort, that it glaunced and broke in two péeces. When the Emperour sawe that hee threw it at him dart wise, he tooke his Speare fast in his hande, and firming himselfe in his stiroppes he raised vp his bodie and threw his Speare against his enimie with greate strength, who would haue receiued it vppon his sheelde, but the furie was such wherewith it was throwen, that it pear∣ced both through his shéelde and likewise the bodie, that the head was seene come out at the Gyauntes backe, the which terrible blowe béeing séene by them which were in the Ca∣stell, was the occasion that there arose a greate vproare therein. The Emperour gaue thankes to God for this short victorie, and tourned himselfe vnto the Page which came with Lidia, and bad him take the Speare out of the Gyants bodie and bring it vnto him, for that it was whole, which presently the Page accomplished. Hée hadde no sooner re∣ceiued it, but hée sawe presently to descende out of the same path waie another great and huge Gyaunt, which séemed

to be no lesse furious then the first. He came mounted on a a very strong and mightie horse, (for he had neede to be of a great strength, in that he did sustaine the carriage of so mightie a monster as the Giaunt was) and when hée was come whereas the Emperour abode, he looked whether the other Giaunt were altogether dead or not, but when he saw there was no life in him, and that by that onelye blowe hee was slaine, he said:

Is it possible mightie brother, that a thing so vile as this is, hath had power so quickly to ••laye thée. And tourning vnto this noble warriour, he said: Tell me Knight of so wonderfull a courage, what diuell hath brought thee hether, to doo vs so much harme, as the Gods themselues were not sufficient to haue done. The Emperor replied, The Ladie which thou séest héere, brought me hether, to deliuer and set at libertie a knight, which without all reason thou doost kéepe in thy Castle, and which with great treason thou broughtest hether. Of truth I tell thée Giant, that it seemeth very euill in such Knights as thou arte, to commit such outrages, for that nature hath not bestowed on thée these well proportioned members, nor giuen thee a bo∣die of so mightie a greatnesse, for to exercise it in dooing of so great wrongs, as you doo daily practise. I therefore doo de∣sire thee, by y^e honour which I owe vnto the order of knight∣hoode, and for that thy disposition doth greatlye content me, that thou wouldest make satisfaction vnto this faire Damo∣sell, the which onely I am come to demaund of thée, & like∣wise that thou wouldest apart thy selfe from these wicked customes: otherwise, beléeue this of a certaintie, that euen as thy brother was slaine with so small a blow, (not béeing by my weake arme killed, but onely by his great tyrannie con∣founded): so likewise if thou dost pretend to lead this tiran∣nous life, as thou hast hethertoo done, beléeue me the lyke death will happen vnto thée. Tourne and repeate that once againe which thou hast saide (aunswered the Gyaunt) per∣haps thy words may winne me to doo somewhat of y^t which thou doost request me, although not altogether. Hast thou me in derision thou vile beast (sayd y^e Emperour) thou shalt soone

vnderstand that I knowe better how to bestowe my sword vpon thy bones and flesh, then againe to declare that which thou doest demaund, for that I doo see my reasons do little a∣uaile, and that I vtter in vaine my spéeches vnto thee, & thou shalt soone see that the sharpnesse of my Speare shall bée no lesse bitter vnto thee, then it was vnto thy late brother:

and in saying these wordes they retourned their horses the one from the other, like the swift winde, and when they were one straight against the other, both of them stroke theyr hor∣ses with the spurres, and bare•• theyr speares verie lowe, in such sort that neither of them fayled of their blowes, the gy∣aunt stroke the Emperour in the middest of the sheelde, and by reason of the greate strength thereof, the stroke glaunced on the one side, and the Speare sprong vp in the ayre with∣out dooing anie harme, but the Emperour chaunced to strike him vnder his shéeld where he was a little open, so that the point of his speare entered into his bellie, and if his Speare had not bene somewhat blunt, with the blow he gaue to the other Gyaunt, he had at this time finished the battaile, but with great hast both of them layde hands on their swords, and tourning theyr horses there beganne a cruell and fierce battaile. The Gyaunt with the greate paine that he had of the hurt which he receiued, felt himselfe verie ill, so that his anger did the more increase, and trauesing his horse from the one part vnto the other, procured by all meanes to hurt the Emperour, who was not at that instaunt idle, but according vnto his accustomed valiauntnesse auoyded his blowes, and smote at him such furious and heauie strokes, that hée made the bloud to followe in what place so euer he chaunced with his sworde to hit, and with the great paine that the Gyaunt felte, there procéeded from his helme a verie thicke and hot smoake, his furie and anger was so much to see himselfe be∣stowe so manie blowes, and not one of them coulde hurt his enimie, he threw his sheelde from him to the earth, and tooke his swoorde in both his handes, and verie fiercely stroke his horse with his Spurres, which made him to leape the∣ther where as this worthie warriour was, and without

anie defence he stroke him such a blowe vppon the healme, that he made him to dec••ine his head to the mane of his horse, and béeing troubled with that great and cruell blowe, his horse carried him a while héere and there about the field. The terrible and fierce Gyaunt would haue giuen him the second blowe, but he could not, for that the Emperour was come againe to himselfe, and being setteled in the sad∣dle, he firmed his swoorde fast with both his handes, and be∣ing incensed with greate anger and furie, insomuch that fire flashed out at both his eyes, he strake his horse with his spurres, and thrust himselfe forward, saying: Tarrie, tarrie thou furious beast, for that I meane to reuenge my selfe of the blowe past that thou gauest mée, and without delay send thy dampned soule deseruedly to the diuell of hell, and ther∣with he stroke the diuellish Gyaunt such a blowe vpon the helme, that he made it sound like a bell, and he without anie remembraunce fell downe backwards vppon his horse crou∣per, the blowe was so terrible and deliuered with so greate strength, that the bloud started out both at his eies and at his nose. And as the Emperour would haue turned to haue stro∣ken him againe, he heard one with a great noise that called aloude and sayd: Stand still vile knight and hold thy hands, except thou wilt die the death. The Emperour lifting vp his head to see who it was that with so great arrogancie threat∣ned him, beheld another Giant which descended downe from the Castell, of a greater stature, and séeming to be of more strength and furie then the other two, which by reason of his greatnesse was faine to goe on foote, for that there was no horse able to beare him. When the Emperour sawe a thing so monstrous comming towards him, he said with an angry voice: Cursed he that euill and diuellish generation from whence such monsters doth procéede, if it please God I will doe my best to abate this thy courage, and in this time the Gyaunt was come to himselfe and rose vp againe, and was prepared against the Emperour, who seeing him so nigh, with purpose to strike him, tooke the aduauntage, and stroke first, with such an ouerthwart blowe, that by the force ther∣of

it cut his throate, necke and all, so that the head fell downe to the earth, and the bodie also like the corner of a great ca∣stell. This other Gyant seeing his brother dead in such sort, cryed out reuiling his Gods, and with blaspheming of all creatures▪ hee descended downe the hill, and drew out his huge and mightie sworde, pressing towards the Emperour, with such furie, as commonly the fierce Lyon doth after his praie, which béeing wel perceiued by the Emperour, he auoi∣ded a little on the one side with his horse, & lighted in greate hast, and with his accustomed courage hee went to méete the Gyant, who was readie with his sword in his hand, & came & stroke at the Emperour a mightie blow, which he receiued vpon his shéeld, that did then deceiue him, and by reason ther∣of it fell downe vpon his healme, and made him s••oope with both his knees to the grounde, loosing somewhat of his sight by force of that furious blowe. The Emperour seeing that it was not then time to sléepe, and that the Gyaunt had his swoord ouer him to strike him againe, he béeing somewhat troubled, stepped aside and cléered himselfe from the fall ther∣of, and therwith preased to the Gyant before he could againe recouer his terrible swoorde, to bestow on him a blow core∣spondent to his rage, and stroke him vpon the arme, but by reason that the Emperour was not wholy come to himselfe of the former blow he receiued, he could not repaie him with his whole strength as his heart desired, or as he would if hee had ben come to himselfe, notwithstanding it was not so lit∣tle, but that his sword cut his arme to the bone, wherwith he was so sore hurt that he could not lift his sworde from the ground, with the paine whereof the Gyant did feele himselfe verie ill, and was constrained to chaunge his sword into his left hand, with the which he stroke blowes verie much out of order. In this time the Emperour stroke at him so terry∣ble and thicke, that it did almost amaze him, & when the Gi∣ant sawe himselfe so ill intreated, he began with a terryble voice to call for helpe of his people from the Castell. The which béeing vnderstoode by the valyaunt and heroycall Emperour, he sayd: no thou traitour, for neither thy strength

nor thy Gods, nor thy people shall deliuer thée, but thou shalt die by my handes, and therewith hée stroke at him the faster and with more courage, but within a small time af∣ter he sawe descending from the Castell another mightie gy∣ant, and in his company more then fortie knights, who with greate showting descended downe the hill, the which beeing séene by the worthie Trebatio, he was perswaded certainly that there hee shoulde dye. And although he was somewhat wearie of y^e great trauaile which had passed, yet hée purposed to sell his lyfe verie déere, determining that they should paie well for it before he lost it. Then all they which descended from the Castell did compasse the Emperour rounde about, and stroke him on euerie side without mercie or pittie, who∣soeuer had bene there to haue séene this worthie warriour, should haue had iust occasion to saie that there was the va∣liant Emperour Trebatio, the flower of all knighthoode, for that he alone defended himselfe against his enimies, in that great extremitie, and if those gyants had not so pressed vpon him, he had estéemed y^e other knights verie little, but it were the gyants that did most trouble and molest him, neuerthe∣lesse he that did come in the daunger of his blowes, might thinke himselfe bewitched or to haue euill fortune, for either he was slaine or else maimed, or beaten downe to the grounde, but yet all this valour that he vsed little profited him, except hée did first procure to destroie these two diuel∣lish Gyauntes, who through their might brought him into great perplexitie, making him sometimes to decline with his handes to the earth, and at other times also to stagger heere and there. And these shamelesse people by the impor∣tunate noise of their Lordes, procured on euerie side to hurt and molest the Emperour, and with the same noyse there descended from the Castell more then thrée score persons, be∣sides them that were there before. But when the Emperour Trebatio sawe himselfe so euill intreated and beset on euery side round about, he called vppon the name of God, and desired him of pardon for all his sinnes, and that he would haue mercie on his soule, for that he thought verily there to

end his life, and therwith he encouraged himselfe a new, and gathered such strength to his heart, that what with the iust quarrell he had, and the great anger he conceiued, hee gaue vnto that Gyant (who had called for succour) such a terrible blowe vpon the wast, that for all the greate force of his ar∣mour, it had almost parted him in two péeces, wherewith hée fell dead at his féet. And at the verie same instaunt hée stroke one of the knightes such another blowe vpon the helme, that he diuided both it and his head downe to the shoulders. The other Gyant when he sawe such meruailous blowes, began to exclaime out against Mars, reuiling him, that he had be∣stowed so much strength and force on one knight, to declare such prowesse as there the Emperour shewed. The rest of the knightes were somwhat afraide of that which they had séene done, and durst not prease so nigh as before they did, yet by reason of the great feare they had of the Gyant, they did not let greatly to molest and trouble him, and they preased vpon him in such wise that he waxed wearie, so that his good heart and noble courage wold little preuaile him, but that he must néedes be ouercome and slaine. The sad and sorrowfull La∣die Lidia when she sawe the Emperour in such great perplex∣itie, with crossing and wringing her hands, and with bitter wéepings she sayd.

O most vnhappie and vnfortunate wretch that I am, it had bene much better that I alone had suffered these my paines and passions, then that this noble Emperour should loose his life in my quarrell, which will be the occasion of ve∣rie much sorrowe and great tribulation vnto the most high and noblest ladie in the world. O famous knight of the Sun, oh renowmed Rosicleer, what may you saie when you shall heare that for my cause your father that worthie Emperour should be slaine, it had ben better for me (miserable as I am) to haue bene transported into a plant as Daphne was, & not to haue caused that for my comfort so much harme should be done, vnlesse it had pleased y^e Goddesse Iuno to make an euer∣lasting memory of this my true and perfect loue, as she did by Celos in so many Nymphs, of whom vnto this daie their

memorie doth surmount the high Throne of their celestiall seates. Oh noble Emperour, who by thy surpassing excellen∣cie hast brought thy selfe to die amongst barbarous people, whereas without all hope of anie helpe, or anie respect of thy mightie estate, thou must receiue the death. Héere I do make a vowe, that before death doth depriue thée of this great va∣lour and strength, to destroye my selfe in recompence of the great wrong that I haue committed against thée.

The valiaunt Rosicleer which at that time God and good fortune had brought into y^e place, did cause hir to cease this hir sorrowful lamentation. If you do remember, this is the bat∣tell I tolde you of, whereas I lefte Rosicleer beholding the great wrong and outrage that so many did against one onely knight. And likewise he did consider the surmounted prow∣esse which that one knight vsed, and because he was armed with contrarie armour, he could not know who it was, and much meruailing at that he sawe, without anie more tarry∣ing, he lighted from his horse and laide hand on his swoord, & with great furie and anger he pressed in amongst these false knights, and the first that he did encounter with, was y^e dis∣ordinate Gyant, to whom he lent such a blow vpon the legge that he cut it a sunder, and with the force thereof he hurt the other legge by the knée, in such sort that he must néedes fall to the ground, not being able by any strength to sustaine or helpe himselfe. The Gyant séeing, & to his paine féeling so furious a blow, cryed with a loude voice, saying: Upon them valiant warriours, for they are of no force nor abilitie to re∣sist, at which noyse the Emperour tourned his head aside, and sawe whereas the Gyaunt laye all along on the earth, by force of that most terrible and cruell blowe. Also hée sawe howe this noble knight besturred himselfe amongest the rest of the Gyauntes knightes, which was a valyaunt sight to bée séene, wherfore he remained a good while in be∣holding and viewing him, till at the last he knewe him to bée his worthie sonne, euen that renowmed and inuinci∣ble Rosicleer. I néede not héere to declare the excéeding great

ioye and comfort which this worthie Emperour receiued in seeing him, and especially at such a time beeing in great neede and necessitie, for of long time before that hée had not seene him, neither had he thought euer to haue séene him after that time anie more, if at that instant hee had not come vnlooked for, in y^t he coulde not choose but to haue bene slaine by those barbarous and vnciuile people. Then gathering vnto him∣selfe newe strength and courage, he pressed in amongst those false and wicked knightes, in such sorte that they beganne to runne awaie, as well because they sawe their Lordes and Captaines slaine, as also for that they coulde not in anie wise abide the terrible blowes of the Prince. So these two valiaunt warriours besturred themselues, that they were constrained in hope to saue theyr liues to tourne their backes, and tooke the waie vp the hill towardes the Castell, but this valiaunt Rosicleer followed them with so greate lightnesse, that before they came halfe waie vp the hill, hée had slaine the greater parte of them. Then the rest which sawe themselues so euill intreated, tourned altogether and pressed on him in such sorte, that by theyr force they hadde almost constrained him to tumble backwarde downe the hill, at which hée was meruailously wroth, and therewith like a couragious Knight hée pressed amongest them with so much furie, that with cutting off armes and heads, hée made them lesse then they were by the one halfe. The Em∣perour by reason of his great wearinesse and trauaile which he sustained, remained at the foote of the hill whereas the first incounter was, but when he heard the moouing and ru∣shing of the people, hée tooke the waye vp the hill with so great lightnesse, as though the battaile had but then begun, and after him followed the fayre and beautifull Lidia, but when the Emperour came in sight, he beheld how the Prince with great courage followed after those wretched people euē to the gate of the Castle, for they thought to saue themselues if they might by anie meanes get in at the gates, pretending to make it fast vnto them, but this valiant Greeke pursued them with so great swiftnesse that they had no time to ful∣fill

that, which they hadde determined, for at such time as they would haue shut the gates, he approched them and di∣sturbed their desire with cutting and hewing them, in such sort, that he entered into the Castell in spite of their heartes, and those that were within would haue made resistaunce at such time as he was in the great Court, but this valiaunt Prince did threaten them, saying.

O you wicked & contenti∣ous villains yéeld your selues prisoners, for be certainly per∣swaded you shall finde more in me by humilitie thē by ma∣king resistaunce.

There was one knight which remained, and hauing more ciuilitie then the rest, aunswered and sayd.

Ualyaunt Knight, if we hadde thought euer to haue found in thée so much mercifull clemencie, as wée haue found mightie courage, verily long since we wold haue yéel∣ded our selues: now therefore we doe desire thée if there bée in thée anie iot of pittie, to manifest thy clemencie vnto vs, for considering wée were seruauntes vnto those Gyauntes, we were by duetie bound to defend them, and on the contra∣rie to our powers, offend you. Then this noble prince promi∣sed them their liues, conditionally that they should yéeld and surrender themselues.

In this time the Emperour letted not to inlarge his pace for to come to the aide and defence of the Prince, but when he came thether, he found that he was in quiet, & that all those that were left in the Castle requested peace, and when the Emperour sawe that it was then time to discouer himselfe, full of great ioy he fell vppon Rosicleer his necke, and sayd.

Oh my sonne, I did well vnderstand that in the time of my greatest necessitie, that thou wouldest neuer deceiue me, with greate reason I may call thée my fortunate sonne, not for that thou wert borne in a good daie, but also that loue did cause so greate affection to thy mother, of whome hath procéeded such finite as thou and thy brother.

Nowe of this worthie Prince what shall I saye, that with verie ioye he was almost beside himselfe when he heard his Fa∣ther the Emperour speake, for by the sounde of his voyce

he did know him. So straight waye the Emperour pulled of his helme, wherewith this valiaunt Rosicleer was fully re∣solued and without all doubt. When he sawe the maiestie of his regall countenaunce, and his bearde adorned with some royall white haires, his face somewhat high coloured, by re∣son of the great trauaile he receiued in his late battailes, in the which he showed his great power, and the prowesse of the progenie from whence he did procéede: his sonne bow∣ed downe his knées to the earth, and lifted vp the visour of his healme, and kissed the Emperours hands, bathing them with the teares, that fell from his eyes, which was forced by his heart, for the great ioye which he receiued. The Em∣perour tooke him by the hand, & raysed him from the ground with great loue. If I should héere declare the rest of the ex∣tremities, that passed in this their ioyfull méeting, it should be very tedious vnto the hearers, therfore I doo remit it vnto such a father, whose lot it is to haue good children, & therwith their like helpe in necessitie. So without making any more delay, the Emperour would haue deliuered out of prison the Knight of this faire Lidia, the which being vnderstoode by them of the Castle, they straight waye brought him before the Emperour, with many other moe, which were pertakers with him in the succour of the Lady. These Knightes alto∣gether gaue great thankes vnto the Emperour, for y^e friend∣ship he had shewed them, in helping them out of this theyr terrible imprisonment. And thus they remained in great ioy and pleasure, as well the Emperour for the sight of his son, as also all those which were prisoners, for the good successe, that they had, but especially and aboue all the rest, was the ioye of Lidia, which with the contentment that she receiued to sée hir Brenio in hir companie, so that she was almost ra∣uished of hir wits: but in the countenaunce of the Knight, it appeared by his outward showe, that he receiued no plea∣sure: the which being vnderstoode by this faire Lidia, not knowing the cause whereof it should procéede to mooue him therevnto, all hir great ioye and delight, was tourned into despaire.

Then the Emperour commaunded those of the Castle, that they should giue him somewhat to eate, and likewise to all the rest which were taken out of prison: vnto him for the great trauaile which he had passed in this battaile, and vnto the rest, for that they had great néed thereof. So it was straight way made ready, and that in very good order, and they all sate downe together, at the Emperours table. So when they had almost dined, and that they were well refre∣shed, the Emperour tolde vnto Rosicleer, who that King was which he had séene in the waggon, & the occasion there∣of: for the which he desired him that no other aduenture should be the occasion to let him, but to goe straight vnto Constantinople, and to take in companie with him Brandi∣mardo, and procure that the Lady might be restored againe vnto her kingdome, vsing all your diligence to giue hir him to wife: for that the noble Prince is worthye of no small honour. And héere my sonne I doo professe vnto thée, that a more beautifull Ladie in all my life I haue not séene, but onely the Empresse Claridiana. Also if that fortune doo so serue, that thy brother the Knight of the Sunne, come to those parts, thou shalt will him, that he doo not mooue nor de∣part from those parts, for any kinde of aduenture that shall succéede, till such time as I doo retourne, for that nowe at this present I cannot retourne, for that I haue sworne and giuen my word. So there he tolde vnto them all the histo∣rie of that infortunate Herea: at the which all they present receiued great sorrowe, sauing onely Brenio, which séemed that he receiued neither pleasure nor ioy. So when the boord was voyded, Rosicleer tooke his leaue of the Emperour his father, and leaped vp on his horse, and tooke the way which led him whereas he left his boate. He was no sooner entred into it, but it began to make way, and sailed with so great swiftnesse, that the third day he arriued at Constantinople, whereas at this present we will leaue him.

¶How the Ladie Lidia talked with her Knight Brenio, who was verie sad, demaunding of him the cause of his discō∣tentment: & of other accidents. Cap. 14.

HEere you haue heard of the great discon∣tentment that Brenio did showe, at such time as he came out of the prison, and in how short time, the ioye that Lidia recey∣ued, was tourned into sorrowe and sadnes: and that she could not demaund to knowe the occasion, by reason of the company that was there: so she was driuen to passe all that daye with bitter sorrowes, and anguish of minde, and without all comfort, till such time as the night approched, thinking y^t when she was alone with him whom she loued more then her selfe, to aske of him the occasion of all his paine. Thus hir desire being brought to passe, this false Brenio did vncloath himselfe, and the time that he was making vnreadie, he neuer lefte wéeping, till such time as he was layd in his bed. This faire Ladie lea∣ning with hir brest vpon the bolster, ioyned her hands with his, and said.

My swéete Brenio, what thing hath caused thée, thus a∣gainst the firme loue that I haue towards thée, to shewe thy selfe so sad, as it doth appeare by thy heauie chéere: turne my loue, and showe a ioyfull face, and giue me some com∣fort with thy smiling countenaunce, & let my troubled hart receiue some ease, of that vnmeasurable sorrowe which I haue sustained, during the time that these vnknowen and traiterous people, haue kept thée in prison and absent from my sorowfull sight. What is this my swéete Brenio, hast thou seene in me any occasion to dissolue this faithfull loue which I beare thee? Let the great trauaile, sighs & sorrowes mooue the which I receiued to finde out the Emperour, and bring him to set thee at libertie: and if this be not suffici∣ent, consider with what great loue I haue passed many sor∣rowfull wayes and terrible stormes, for to attaine thy pre∣sence, as now I doo. And héere I doo sweare vnto thée by the true & faithfull loue, which caused me so sorowfully to wéepe being on the déepe sea, that if I the infortunate Lidia be not acceptable in thy heart. Onely for that I will not displease th••••, I will with myne owne proper handes open this my

louing brest, and sprinkle the bloud therof round about these thy ingratefull feete Oh what paine and sorrow was in the heart of this faire Lidia, when she spake these wordes vnto her ingratefull Brenio, and yet not one of all hir sorrowes was sufficient to cause him to shewe anie kinde of comforte vnto her.

With these and such like extremities, the night passed away, and when the lightnesse of the daye had entred in at the windowes of the chamber, he arose from his bed, and likewise this sorrowfull Ladie, which had passed all the night, with heauie wéepings, and sorrowfull sighes, without putting of hir clothes, in such sort she went out and follow∣ed him.

The Emperour was then risen and readie, and was put∣ting all things in order that was necessarye to pacifie and make quiet the people of the countrie: the which was done with great ease, when it was knowen that their Lords wer dead, whom they did without all measure hate, for that they were so great tyrants: and foure great Cities, beside manye other faire townes and villages, did yéelde and surrender themselues vnder his iurisdiction. The Emperour caused them to sweare to receiue Rosicleer as their true Lord, and they to be his faithfull subiects, and with them likewise all the whole dominion, the which they did with a verye good will: and the Emperour appoynted a gouernour amongest them, to gouerne all the land. All this béeing finished, and that the Ilande was in peace and quietnesse, he commanded to make readie two galleyes, the one for the faire Lidia and hir Brenio, and the other for his owne person, for that hée would depart for Africa. So all things was prouided pre∣sently in good order, and being readie, the Emperour com∣maunded the faire Lidia to imbarke hir selfe, and to carrye with hir hir Knight, who straight waye went aboorde the galley, and commaunded the marriners to take their course towards Spaine. Likewise the Emperour did take his leaue of all them of the Castle: who for his noble customes and valiaunt Knighthoode, after that they knewe who he was, they both feared and loued him with all their hearts. And

when he was imbarked in the galley, he commaunded the marriners to take the way towards Africa.

What is he that could signifie by any reason the small contentment and ioye, that the faire Lidia receiued, in behol∣ding the lad and melancholike countenaunce that hir Brenio continually shewed: who without speaking any word, say∣led on till they found themselues in the Ponticke sea, wher∣as continuallye it is accustomed with his furie, to terrifie those, which doo nauigate that way. So there arose a migh∣tie and great tempest, which was such, that it caused y^e g••••∣ley to tumble and tosse from the one parte to the other, in great perill and daunger. Thus they remained three dayes & three nights in this great danger, & the fourth day they wer driuen a land, at a small Ilande vninhabited, that was called Rees. This Ilande was hid in the sea very farre from anye lande, and was poynted with very great rockes. Ther they came to an anker with their galley, and for to refresh and ease themselues of their great trauaile which they had pas∣sed, they went a lande, and commaunded to raise vp a fayre Tent which they brought with them, and therein they made a bed, whereon Brenio laye downe to ease himselfe: and this faire Lidia leaned on the bed side by him, and was som∣what in quiet, for that she sawe that the sadnesse of her Knight was a little abated. And by reason of the great paine and dolor that she had receiued, and the vnquietnesse in the tempest: and againe, for the contentment she had, to sée her Knight in better quiet, her wearied body required some rest, in such sort, that as she was leaning on the beddes side, she fell a sléepe. This false Brenio when he sawe her at rest and in a sound sleepe, in great secret he arose from the bedde, and went vnto the waters side whereas he had lefte the galley, and entering therein, he commaunded all those that were a∣lande to imbarke themselues, and to hayse vp the sayles, and wold not by any meanes tarry, til that the seas were calme, but rather did put himselfe in y^e peril of these furious waues, then to inioye the swéetnesse of this faire Damosell: and lefte her all alone, in this desolate and vnpeopled Ilande.

Oh Neptune that gouernest ••he seas, let loose thy furious & outragious waues, and sinke so vnnaturall and inhumaine a Knight, and suffer him not to liue, that vncourteously did leaue this louing Lady in this distresse, who for his deliue∣rie had put her selfe in all this trouble. This sorrowfull la∣die still sléeping, dreamed, that there was a great and fierce wilde man, which stood before her, with a very sharpe sword in his hande, making as though he would kill her, and shée was so troubled with the great feare that she receiued, that she gaue great shril••es, and called vnto her Brenio for aide & succour, and as she thought, with his handes he stopped his eares, for that he would not heare her, and séemed that hée would not mooue himselfe in any respect. This dreaming la∣die seeing this, determined to make her owne defence so well as she could, it séemed vnto her that there appeared before her a Centaure, which said, feare not faire damsell, for I am come hether to aide & succour thée: yet for all that, this wilde man did not let to strike her vpon the breast, and as it sée∣med to her, her breast was all open, and how that the Cen∣taure put his hand into the wound, and pulled out hir heart, and threw it at the wilde man, and sayd, Take vnto thée this heart, y^t without all consideration loued a man, which with such ingratitude hath rewarded her. So straight at the same instant there appeared a Knight, which likewise layd holde on the heart with the wild man, and they two striued great∣ly betwéene themselues with much contention, who shoulde pull the heart out of the others handes: but in the end, each of them remained with his péece in his hand, and the hearte parted in two. So the péece which remained in the power of the wilde man, tourned into a harde stone, and that péece which remained in the power of the knight, tourned into red bloud, and being in this great perplexitie, this sorrowfull la∣die did awake, thinking to haue tolde this terrible dreame vnto her beloued Brenio, but she found him not in place, and tourning her face to the other part, to sée if she coulde sée him, but she could neither behold him, nor any other person, of whome she might enquire. Wherewith she leaped from the

bed, and with a loud voyce, she began to call for hir Brenio: but all was in vaine. So with a swift pace she went down to the waters side, thinking to haue found him there. But at her comming thether, she found neither him nor any other person, neither the galley which brought them thether. Then she looked to sea wards, to sée if she could disouer any thing, but she could see nothing but water, which was the occasion that she made great lamentation. And being verye hoarce with the terrible shrike which she gaue, shée went vp vpon a little rock which was nigh the waters side, from whence she did discouer the galley, in the which was her vnlouing Bre∣nio, whereby she perceiued plainly how she was deceiued, & how she bestowed her affection, whereas was nothing but falshoode: although before time she could not perswade w^t her selfe, that so great treason remained in his heart. The great sorrowes and lamentations which this forsaken La∣dy made, was sufficient to mooue the stones vnto compassi∣on. Thus being wearie with lamenting, she sate her downe vpon the little rocke, and leaning her chéeke vpon her white hande, she fell in a great sound, in such sorte, that in a longe space shée moued neither hande nor foote, but when she came againe vnto her selfe, she bagan a new to make great lamen∣tation, and did publish her paine with terrible shrikes, say∣ing:

Why was I not drowned in the Sea, that the fishes thereof might haue torne my bodie in péeces, or else to haue bene deliuered into the handes of tyrauntes, to haue vsed their tyrannie against me, that my heart might not haue felte this sorrowe, neither my eies haue séene this crueltie? O vnhappie chaunce, oh cruell fortune, why diddest thou not make mée to passe this bitter and sorrowfull life in my childhoode, in such sorte, that it hadde consumed me. Where∣fore did the Gods permit and suffer mée to liue so long, it had béene farre better that I had dyed in my Cradell, and not to liue to sée my selfe in this greate affliction with∣out all helpe: O you mountaines, O you wilde beastes, O you déepe sea, there is not in you anie sence to hinder me, but that I maye publish heere the greate disloyaltie of that

traytor, who is the cause of all this my harme.

O cruell and ingratefull fortune, I sée that héere plainly without all pittie, thou doost driue me to the death, and although y^e fault be others, yet thou doost apply the paine to be mine. And in this sort, with great griefe, the sorrowfull and vnfortunate Lady did torment hir selfe.

So likewise, by reason of the great tempest and torment of the sea, (whereof we before spake) there arriued nigh the same place, a Knight, with no lesse daunger, then the others that landed there before. The Pilot séeing that Aeolus had shut vp his windes, and made fast the gates in such sorte, that the sayle beate against the maste of the galley, that they were constrained by the force of oares to retourne a∣gaine to sea. For that they did sée by all sea-faring tokens, that the weather would be troublesome: they did perceiue it also by the Cornesa, also by séeing the Dolphins, leaping and plunging in the sea, more then they were accustomed to doo. These and such like tokens the wise Pilot did consider off, who desired to take part where as hee might defend him∣selfe from that terrible weather looked for. So with this great desire they stroke the water with their Oares, & with great furie they tormented their armes, to get to the lande: but the fatall Quéene Atrapos, would not consent therevn∣to, for that at the houre when the troubled Moone, did extend hir beames vppon the face of the earth, and vppon the large and déepe Sea, then the winde Boreas began to blowe his blast, so that it constrained them of the galley to bring their saile to a bowe line, and to strike it very lowe, which made the vessell to tumble and roll from the one parte to the other, in such sort, that euerie time of hir tourning, all they that were in hir, thought to be drowned. Then the marriners thought good to strike and amaine their sayle, the which they did in great hast, and laboured to profite themselues with their oares and by the strength of their armes. But in the ende, when they sawe that neither sayle nor oares would profite them, they committed themselues vnto God, and lefte the Galley and all their goods vnto his gracious

will, and the furie of water, which beganne presently to in∣treate them in such sort, that it gaue them plainly to vnder∣stand of their destruction. This was the Galley in which the Emperour departed in, at such time as the Ladie Lidia did take her leaue, wherein he tooke but small rest, alwayes la∣bouring to aide and helpe whereas most necessitie required, in throwing out water which troubled them verie much, be∣ing driuen by those mightie waues into the Galley. Thus were they tossed and tumbled all the night looking, euerie houre for death, at length the Sun appeared and shewed his golden face, whereby he did declare the cruell stormes & tem∣pests which was past, and likewise gaue shew of that which was to come, by reason that it was darkned vpon a sodaine, and shewed a heauie chéere: so the windes began to arise & blew more and more, and the waues increased and rose of a great and huge height, beating vpon the galley with such vi∣olent force, that being taken betwéene two billowes, the gal∣ley brake a sunder in the middest. These sorrowfull marry∣ners which vntill that time had trauailed and fought with the wind and sea to defend their galley & to saue their liues, were now constrained to striue with death, and indeauour with all their strengths by swimming for to come to the shoare, but all would not serue for theyr defence, for waxing wearie by the great force of the waters, béeing able no longer to indure, they yéelded themselues into the handes of God, and their bodies to the furie of the sea, wherein they finished theyr liues, the Emperour Trebatio being holpen by y^e migh∣tie hand of God, vppon whom he alwaies called in his heart, desiring to deliuer him from so terrible a death, praieng him for the merits of that mightie mediator Iesus Christ, that he would succour and defend him, who of his wonted mercie heard him, & would not permit that he should perish, for y^t he laid hold of a boord which was broken from the galley, and made himselfe fast therto, though it were with some labour, neuertheles this distressed Emperour thought y^t the ende of his daies were at hand, for y^t the mightie waues kept him a great while vnder the water, & when hee discouered himselfe

aloft, there came another great waue which stroke him with such violence, y^t it threw him vpon the shore, almost without any remembraunce, whereas I will leaue him amongest the shingles which were at the sea side, and of all that happened, I will tell you héereafter.

¶How the Emperour when he was recouered of the weari∣nesse which he receiued by the great trouble of the sea, he trauailed in the same Iland, and how he met with certaine knights, with whom he had battaile, and what happened. Cap. 15.

O Mightie princes & valiant knights, and you excellent barons, & all you which finde your selues mounted vp in the triumph of felici∣tie, & haue all the contentments & pleasures of this worlde, euen all you together, I dooe héere admonish, y^t you stand not too much in your owne conceits, neither be you negligent nor forgetfull, for y^t you know, or at the least you haue heard say of the so∣daine and variable changes of peruerse fortune, who respect∣eth no man, for vnto them which be most mounted & are in greatest prosperitie, vnto them she giueth y^e mightiest fall: let none shew himselfe proud nor vse anie crueltie, because he is in high estate, but rather in y^e authoritie let him vse all humi∣litie: for héere you haue séene y^e great surmounted quietnesse & peaceable estate, in which the Emperour hath indured vn∣till this present, & now you may sée vnto what an ebbe for∣tune hath brought him, there he lay along vpon the sands a great while, vntil such time as the Sun had almost run thrée parts of his daily course before he came to himselfe, at which time he rather desired to die then to liue, cōmitting his soule vnto almightie God, whose only it was. The night drew on when y^t w^t his black mantell he procured to couer the bright∣nesse of Apollo, at which time this emperour was somwhat refreshed of his passed trauaile, and arose vp, but he was all to be mired & full of sand, whereof he made himselfe cleane,

in the best manner y^t he could, & began to take his way tho∣rough a very narrow path, but he could not trauaile far, for that the night came so fast & it waxed verie darke, so that hée was constrained to seeke a place where he might rest him∣selfe, for that he wold not loose the path wherinto he had en∣tered, so he laide himselfe down vnder a broad pine trée, wher as he passed the most sorrowfull and afflicted night that euer knight indured: next vnto God he had great cōfort by means of his mightie courage, for to passe ouer all his aduersities, thus he passed all the night with great desire y^t the day wold come, & when the daie brake it séemed very faire & calme, and the aire appeared quiet, & he trauailed out onwards his way in that straight path, vntill such time as he came to a verye faire & delectable forrest, whereas sundrie chirping birds had gathered themselues together to refresh and shrowde them∣selues from the parching of the Sun, yéelding verie delecta∣bly diuers swéet notes. In this forrest, he trauailed wel nigh two houres, & then he went vp to a small mountaine which was at hand, from the which he discouered a very faire & wel towred citie, vpon the farther side whereof the sea beate a∣gainst the faire & high walls, & towards that part wherevn∣to the narrow way did lead, without y^e citie there was built a princely pallace very sumptuous to behold, & moted round about, which moat made a separation betwéene the citie and y^e pallace, there he receiued great pleasure to finde himselfe in a peopled country and of so goodly building, for that before he thought he had ben in a desart: likewise he discouered from y^e hill, a faire fountaine all wrought of Marble, piller like with a great bowle in the middest also of marble, out of which did procéed foure spouts running with water, which fell into a great sesterne, & comming vnto it he washed his hands and refreshed his face, and sate him downe by it vppon the gréene grasse, with a great desire to eat somewhat, but ther was no body to giue him any thing, so he rested himselfe vpon his el∣bow, & what with the wearinesse of his way & with his hun∣ger, & being very pensiue for his troublesome sorow, he fell a sléepe. Not long after ther came out of that faire pallaice cer∣taine

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knightes which rode abroade to solace themselues, and by chaunce they came to the place whereas the Emperour was, and when they sawe him of so faire a fauour and of so goodly a stature, and to their thinking he slept without all feare or care, one of them sayde: Out of all doubt this is a knight of a straunge Countrie, and by his countenaunce and proportion, it seemeth that he is of some high lignage, & that peruerse fortune which alwayes is fickle vnto mankinde, hath caused him to come hether, & brought him to be in this estate. To the which aunswere one that was in companie, who séemed to be of greater estate then all the rest, sayde: that he doth rather séeme to bée some robber and théefe, and one that doth lead an ill life, more then a knight of prowesse, and that the sword which he weareth, he hath stollen from some trauailing knight, let me come and I will awake him out of his sound sléepe, and I will take this sword from him which doth not become him to weare, for it is not to be be∣stowed on him, and without anie more delay he alighted off from his horse to séeke his owne death (as it fell out) for when he came to the Emperour, he pulled him by the beard with so much strength, that spite of his heart he did awake him, but when the Emperour awaked and sawe the hands of that villanous knight fast vpon his beard (which was full of haires) he with his left hand stroke him such a blowe vppon the breast, that he made him to recoile backe, and whether he would or no, he fell to the ground with the force thereof, and with great anger he rose vp, (not making anie outward ap∣pearance of the great and incomperable trauaile that he had passed) he laide hand on his sword, and without tarrying till the other did arise, he stroke him such a blow vpon the head that he cut him downe to the breast, so that he fell downe dead to the ground, in this sort he gaue him his paiment for his great and vnseemely pride: these knights that came toge∣ther were eight in number, but when the rest sawe y^t which the Emperour did, they prepared thēselues to fight, & lighting from their horses they laid hands on their swords, & wrapped their cloaks about their armes, & then began a cruell battel,

but when this mightie Trebatio sawe himselfe so beset with the other seauen knights, he determined to sell his death ve∣rie deere, or else to kill them all, and as you doo see the greedie Lyon ranging the Countrie with his haire bristeled, and ra∣ging with great hunger to finde his praie: euen so the va∣liant Emperour began to strike with his strong arme, flouri∣shing with it in such sort, that on whom it chaunced to light, he had no néede of a Surgion to heale him. In a little space of the eight that were of them, there were foure of thē s••aine, and the rest were so scarred with his terrible and mortall blowes, that they durst not come nigh him. There was a lac∣kie that came with them, which when he sawe this great de∣struction of the knights, tooke the horse of one of them that was slaine, and in great hast he gallopped with him towards the pallace, crieng with a loude voice: Armour, armour, come knightes quickly and helpe, for that there is slaine the Earle of Modique his sonne, and all the rest that were with him, the quéene and Ladie of that Countrie, when she heard that great noise, she looked out of her closet, and asked who had done that murther, to whome the Lackie answered, that one onely knight vnarmed, whom they found a slape at the mar∣ble fountaine, hath slaine them. These wordes caused great alteration amongest all them in the pallace, and in great hast they called for theyr armour to arme themselues, but this faire quéene asked farther of the Lackie, what was the occa∣sion which these eight knightes offered, to cause that knight to attempt so hard an enterprise, who tolde and declared vn∣to her all that you haue hearde, and when shée vnderstoode the whole circumstaunce, she commaunded straight that vp∣roare to cease, and that there should other eight knights goe and procure to take and bring him prisoner, without dooing him anie harme, for that she was desirous to know what hee should be that was of so valiaunt courage and so greate a strength. So straight waie at the commaundement of the quéene these eight knights were readie and armed, and went to the place whereas they were still in battaile, and at such time as they approched, there was but two left of the eyght,

that were first against him. And when those two sawe the other eight knightes comming, they stepped on the one side, & with a loude voice, cried. Knightes kill this diuell, kill this diuell, who in this sort hath intreated vs. When the Empe∣rour sawe that there came other eight armed knightes a∣gainst him, he could not but iudge himself to be in great dan∣ger of death, for that he was vnarmed and without anie de∣fence, yet for all that, his accustomed courage did not fayle him one ••ot, but he put himselfe in defence with so great har∣dinesse, as though he had ben armed with all his accustomed armour. Then one of the eight armed knights who would shew himselfe to be of a more courage then the rest, pressed forwards with his swoord in his hand and his shéelde on his arme, making shewe as though he woulde strike him, the Emperour did ward that blow on his swoord wheron it fell, and with his left hand he tooke so fast holde on his shéeld, and with so great strength, that he pulled it from 〈◊〉〈◊〉 arme, and with great speede he couered himselfe therewith, and with a valiaunt stomacke sayd: Doo not thinke you disloyall and cowardly knightes to take me prisoner or doo me anie out∣rage, first I hope to put you all to the point of any sword, or to die in my iust defence, but by reason that he spake to them in the Greeke tongue, they coulde not vnderstande him one word, wherefore forgetting that which the quéene had com∣manded them, they striued with all their strength to kil him: the Emperour by reason of the fountaine had his backe de∣fended, so that they were constrained to fight with him face to face, but he which by his hardinesse did seeme to prease for∣wards more then the other, was straight s••aine or verie sore hurt. Amongst these knights there was another which was of a more hardier courage then any of the rest, who manye times did prease forwards, & had hurt this valiant Trebatio in two places, & although the wounds were not very great, yet it caused his aduersaries to haue the better stomack to as∣sault him. This knight which had hurt the Emperour sawe well, y^t if euery one of the rest had done as much as he, y^t this vnarmed knight had ben s••aine, & with a loud voice he said:

O ye Knights of Tinacria, how is it possible that one only knight, & without armour, hath brought vs into this ieopar∣die and great extremitie, the which wordes he spake in the Tuscan tongue, and so with great hardinesse & mightie cou∣rage he pressed forwards, but the Emperour who well vn∣derstoode his wordes, stepped forwardes to receiue him, two steps more thē he did before, the which was done with great lightnesse, and followed his blow so hard, that y^e knight was constrained to receiue the blow vpon his healme, the which was giuen with so much strength and furie, that i•• parted it in twaine with the head, & before that he could returne back againe into his standing, they hurt him in two or thrée pla∣ces, but it was not much, but the Emperour as he recoiled, stroke two of them, & that with so much furie that they fell dead to the ground, the rest of the Knightes which remained were meruailously afraid, for that they had felt his mightie blowes, and ••gaine with the sight of those that were s••aine before the ••herefore they withdrew themselues backe so y^t his blows might not reach them. The Emperour séeing him∣selfe at more quietnesse, retired to the place where hée fi••st was, by the fountaine, and there he remained in more safety beeing better able to make his defence, so there was left of all those sixtéene Knights, but seauen, of the which, thrée of them were more importunate then the rest, and dealte with him euen as a companie of small spaniels with a great ma∣stiefe, who with their barking runne round about him both before and behinde, yet not daring to touch anie haire, but when they come before him, the mastiefe maketh thē afraid, and forceth them to runne awaie: so in the same sorte was the Emperour amongst his enimies, and béeing in this con∣flict, they heard a great noise in the citie of making hast vnto armour, and anon they perceiued how y^e olde Earle did know of the death of his sonne, who by reason of the great sorrow & passion that he receiued was almost beside himselfe, & com∣maunded to bring him his armour and his horse, on whom he mounted, and tooke in his hande a greate and mightie Speare, and rode foorth towardes the Fountaine whereas

the Emperour was, and after this olde Earle issued out ma∣nie of the people of the Citie, as well knightes as other Ci∣tizens. The quéene vnderstanding all this vproare & tumult, fearing that by force of all those people, there should be slaine that knight, who amongst all other was worthie to liue for his great valour and knighthood, she determined to goe forth accompanied with all the nobilitie of her court, & with many faire Ladies and Damsells to aide and deliuer him from pe∣rill, but before the quéene could come thether, the olde Earle was there whereas the Emperour was, but when he saw so many men there dead, and all by the force of one vnarmed knight, if it had not bene for griefe to sée his sonne lie slaine amongst the rest, and also the fatherly loue which did pro∣uoke him to wrath, I promise you he wold haue ben the first that should haue procured to set him at libertie, for that hee thought it not possible there should so much valiantnesse rest in one knight and also vnarmed, against so 〈…〉〈…〉 armed knights, except some of the Gods had descend•••• ••••wn to help him, but the great affection which the father ought to haue to his sonne, caused him with great showts & cries to prease in amongst the knights that were fighting, & to put them a∣part, & likewise all the whole multitude y^t were there ioyned together, & with his speare in his hand he came to the place whereas the Emperour was, whom I will now leaue, for y^t the South winde blew in my eare, & hath constrained me to moue my purpose and returne to Constantinople, wheras y^e court of the Emperour remained in great sorow for y^e depar∣ting of their Lord, whose carefull countenāce seemed to prog∣nosticate y^e great daunger that the Emperour should be in, & if ther had not chaunced at that time to come to the court the wise Artemidoro, who did verie much comfort the Empres, in willing her not to torment her bodie with so many la∣mentations and passions, for that in this his trauaile all things should fall out verie well and vnto his great honour, to whose wordes the Empresse gaue greate credite, other∣wise shée would verily haue bene slaine with sorrowe. The Prince Clauerindo was hée which did most lament

at the sorrowe of the Empresse, and determined to goe foorth in the quest of the Emperour, for that he accounted nothing to be grieuous to comfort the sorrow of the Empres, which would be mitrigated by the séeking of the Emperour. This secret determination came vnto the eares of the king of Sar∣denia, and he declared vnto Clauerindo, that he would ••eare him companie, who straight wayes determined together to take their voyage, and commaunded to make ready a fayre and strong ship. So without giuing any to vnderstande, in a night they imbarked themselues, and hoysed theyr sayles, and committed their ship thether, whereas Fortune woulde carrie her. The Empresse, although she receiued great dis∣comfort by her béeing alone, yet she did dissemble it in the best wise she could, and did labour with great discretion to gouerne her Empire in quietnesse, thinking thereby to mi∣tigate her griefe, for the absence of the Emperour. So one daye 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in this sorrowe, there was heard a great rumor, which wa•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to proceede of great ioye and gladnesse. The Empresse hearing it, could not by anye meanes ima∣gine what it should be, and being doubtfull, she sent one to knowe what it was, that caused that great tumult in the Court: but quickly she was resolued, and put out of all her doubt, for that it was giuen her to vnderstand, that the ioye was, because of the Prince Rosicleer, of whom I haue tolde you, who did then at that instaunt disimbarke himselfe at the waters side.

What should I héere speake of the great ioye which the Empresse receiued, I am not able fully to declare it, but it was in such sort, that for the great loue she did beare vnto the Prince, and againe for the great comfort which she re∣ceiued in hir sorrowful minde, that with both her armes cast about his necke, she receiued him and imbraced him, with great ioye and contentment. Rosicleer did kisse hir Emperi∣all handes with great humilitie. The Dutches was present at this méeting, who knewe very well Rosicleer to bee hée that did make such slaughter of her Knightes comming by the waye, and when she came vnto the Prince, she sayd.

Knight, I neuer thought to giue you so louing entertainment as now I doo, by reason that you did intreate me very ill, & all my people, and caused me to receiue great griefe: neuer∣thelesse, the amends which I hope to haue of so worthye a knight, doth cause me to craue of you pardō for this my for∣mer anger, for that the little knowledge and acquaintaunce I haue had of you, hath bene the principall occasion of my discourtesie.

Then the Prince did call to remembraunce, that she should be the Lady which was in the Chariot, as well by her speaches, as by the apparell she wore, to whom he an∣swered and sayd:

Ladye, for your great griefe I am verye sorie, and surely I should receiue much more griefe, if occa∣on should not fall out, wherein I might doo you seruice. Not for so much in that I owe by duetie vnto knighthoode, as it is to be at your commaundement: and more, it is the wil of y^e Emperor my father, to labor to obtaine you all the ease and contentment, that possibly I could: and therefore onely for this cause and purpose, he commaunded me to come vn∣to the Court: so that whensoeuer you thinke it necessarye to put your necessitie in vre. I am héere ready at your com∣maundement, to doo all that in your seruice is conuenient. And for that all things in your seruice shall be fulfilled in more ample manner, I will that the noble Brandimardo go with me in my companie, for that your defence shall bée the more certain. And although the attainment be neuer so dif∣ficult▪ yet hauing him in my companye, I hope to make all things dead sure.

Brandimardo rēdred vnto him great thanks and did accept his desire to haue him in his companie. The Quéene of Lira was not a litle ioyfull of this she heard, and gaue great-thanks both vnto the one and vnto the other, for their great courtesie showed, and sayde.

Noble and valiant Princes, I doo conceiue very much ioye in this your great curtesies offered vnto me, touching the restoring me agayne vnto my kingdome: but in the meane time that you doo pretend to make me this restitution, and likewise in satis∣faction of this great curtesie which you haue offered, I be∣séech you to procure vnto me (hauing so good opportunitie, &

none more worthier for this effect thē you, of whom I may receiue it) the order of Knighthood, which is the thing that I so much desire.

This she deliuered with so goodly a grace, that the Prince stoode and behelde her, and was much ama∣sed at her meruailous beautie: and replieng vnto the words of the Quéene, he sayd.

Oh fortunate Empire, that shall bee gouerned by so valyaunt a Princesse, the order of Knight∣hood, Lady, I know not how to giue it, for y^t it dooth wholy and altogether consist in you. There is nothing lacking but the girting on of the sword by the hands of some worthye Knight: but who is he that hath deserued to obtaine ••o doo so worthie an act vnto so noble a Quéene, notwithstanding seeing at this present it is offered vnto mee, I will enioye the benefite of this great desert, although I well knowe my selfe, not worthy thereof.

And with this he tooke off his owne sword, and put it about the Quéenes necke, who with a meruailous and chéerefull countenance sayd,

I do receiue it by the hands of the best Knight of the world, and heere I doo returne it vnto you againe, for with it, I hope to be re∣stored into the Kingdome of Lira.

And whiles she was sai∣eng these words, he girte himselfe therewith againe. Then the Prince sayd.

Faire Lady, I haue this sword nowe in such estimation, that I doo beléeue no Knight maye estéeme more thereof, nor haue it in greater price, neither will I chaunge it for anie thing in all the worlde, and héere I doo giue you great thankes for this your curtesie, and desire of God spéedely to giue me occasion, that I may pay this great debt, in the which I am indebted. And for that I maye the better satisfie my desire, I doo request of you to graunt me a boone, which vppon my faith, I doo promise you, is the very first that euer I did demaund of Ladie▪ and that I protest by the honour I owe vnto the order of Knighthoode: Ueri∣lie sayde the Qéenne, and it shall be the first that euer I graunted vnto anie Knight. And beléeue me it is vnto mee no small pleasure and contentment, that this my first grant should be giuen vnto a knight of so noble valour as you are, let it be therfore what it shall be, I will graunt it vnto you.

And being resoning in this manner, they were cut off from their talke by the comming of the Empresse Claridiana, who brought leading by the hand, the Lady Oliuia, who came from her closet, whereas being together, they heard of the newes of the arriuall of the Prince. If Rosicleer did re∣ceiue great pleasure when he did sée Oliuia, (vnto them that haue reason and discretion of vnderstanding, I leaue y^e con∣sideration): so likewise he did much meruaile, at the great leannesse of Claridiana, for the which he was very sorrye, and with some reasons he did comfort her, as one y^t knewe all the secreat of her heart. All the whole Court receiued great ioye and pleasure for the comming of the Prince, and all the Knights and Gentlemen came to visite him. And be∣ing dinner time they sate downe at the table, and at the end of the dinner, when that all was taken vp, they did deter∣mine and thought it good, that out of hande they would pro∣cure to giue battaile to the Gyaunts, vsurpers of the king∣dome of Lira, and that the Quéene and the Dutchesse should remaine in the Court: and with this conclusion they com∣maunded, that for the next daye, should be made readie, all that should be necessarie for their iourney. In the Court was made great lamentation and sorow, for that the prince wold so soone depart, & leaue it without anie knight of esti∣mation or accompt to be made of: for that they were all de∣parted in the Quest and séeking of their Lord and Empe∣rour: whereas I will leaue them. And the Princes Rosi∣cleer & Brandimardo going onwards in theyr voyage, left y^e Empresse with the gouernment of her Empire, and in her company the Empresse Claridiana, and the Quéene of Li∣ra, and the Princesse Oliuia. Where let them rest, and now I will tell you of the successe of the two children of the great Alphebo.

¶How the two children of the great Alphebo, were stolne away, by the Giant Galtenor, and what after∣ward did succeede of the same robbery. Cap. 16.

WIthin the wide and déepe sea, towardes the parts of India where the people are gouern∣ed, vnder the Pole antarticke, and whereas the furious waters with their great waues & terrible noyse, with violent force doo make hollowe and vndermine the rockes, & strong defence of the port Palato, and the sumptuous citie of Sina, are two very faire Ilands, the one of them is called Trapo∣na, a very great Iland and plentifull of all things, wherein raigned a knight of great fame called Delfo, which was not farre off from the other Iland, named Arguinaria, being like wise very aboundant of all kinde of vittailes, & very strong and was gouerned by a Giaunt called, Gedereon Brandem∣bul, a very fierce man. His power and strength was such, that he was not onely feared of them of the Iland, but also of all other Kings and Knights, borderers and confines vp∣pon his Iland. He was fifteene cubites in height, and his face very furious and wilde, and his strength surpassed the power of men. And aboue all he was very cruell, and had vsurped that land of another Giant, who by lineall descent should haue had the gouernment, whose name was called Galtenor. This was he, which in a Serpentine figure ente∣red into the chamber of the Empresse Claridiana, and stole away her two children, for that he did knowe by his arte Magicke (in the which he was very cunning and expert) that he could not recouer his Iland, but by meanes of the young sonne, whereof the Empresse shuld be deliuered. For which cause he did steale them away in the forme as I haue tolds you, I say two young children newly borne. Then this Galtenor, hauing these two young infants in his power, tra∣uailed onwarde his iourney, and ouerpassed all Greece, hée came vnto the vttermost partes and confines of Armenia. And approching vnto a Castle, by reason that the infants were out of quiet with hunger, he vsed the effect of his arte, and did inchaunt all them that were within the Castle, and depriued them of their wits, sauing onely one Lady, that was newly brought a bedde, whose childe straight dyed, to

whome he did commende the two infants. And as at that time this faire Lady was not sufficient to giue them both suck for lacke of milke, he did by his arte likewise prouide a Liones, which had newly whelped, and a she Goat, which did helpe her with their milke, to the nourishing of these two infants. This Lady for the refreshing of the Infants, did aske license to vnswaddle them, which being graunted vnto her, she vnswaddeled the young infant out of his ritch clothes wherein he was, and in making cleane of his little bodie wi••h a fine linnen cloth, she sawe on his breast, a ve∣ry fierie speare, at the which she was greatly amazed, & for this occasion they gaue him to name Claridiano, of y^e speare: and the other infant they called Rosaluira. So in this order as I haue told you, wer these infants nourished two yeres, with these their nourses, and euerye daye more then other their excéeding fairenesse and beautie increased, so that they seemed to be heauenly creatures. This Gyant did determin not to depart from that place, til such time as they came vn∣to age, for that the countrey did lyke them very well. So they were there sixe yeres without remoouing from thence to any other place, in the which time these Infantes were so great of body that they séemed to be of a dossen yeres of age. Claridiano was of a meruailous and faire beautie, but the infant Rosaluira was without comparison, more then a∣nie humane creature. Then Galtenor seeing that it was time to carrie them vnto Trapobana, he caused by his art to bée brought a Chariot, which was drawen by two great Gri∣phons, and therein he put the children, and also their nourse: for that the children did crie pitifully for their nourse, and the nourse likewise shed many teares, and began to torment her selfe, when they should be carried awaye, and so béeing in the Chariot they trauailed, and left behind them Arme∣nia, and the faire and white Albania, the great Sea of Cas∣pro, and likewise Marmantina, the Gran Tartaria, with his surmounted seas, which is seperated from the great sea, they passed likewise by Armenia the great, and came vnto the head spring of Euphrates, which doth begin a hundred miles

from Damasco, & is compassed about with two faire cities, y^• one of them to the Eastward called Ierosolima, & the other is scituated to the Ponents, called Sabiosca. Héere he caused his waggon to descend for to ease themselues, and that the children should take some refreshing: the which was done to the great contentment of them all: and being somewhat wearie of their iourney, the Gyant fell a sléepe, and so like∣wise the nourse, who was called Formisa with Claridiano in her armes, who also was a sléepe, but Rosaluira was awake, and being apparailed with very rich apparell of white Da∣maske, all spotted full of Iewells of golde and pearles, shée descended out of the Waggon, and with her faire yelowe haire, which séemed to be golde wiers, all hanging down be∣hinde on her back, gardished about with very rich iewells, & without all feare she went vnto the riuers side, the which was beset on euery side with very faire Orchards and gar∣deines, and all the fields garnished with diuers kindes of swéete flowers and gréene hearbes, which serued for the fee∣ding of many shéepe, that were nigh at hand féeding by the riuers side. And she receiued such contentment, in these swéet delights, that before she was aware, she was very far from the place, whereas her brother and the rest were a sléepe.

There was nigh that place a shepheard, which kepte cer∣taine shéepe, & with that exercise he passed his lyfe, (although with great miserie) and in a very poore and little cottage, who séeing that Infant all alone, and so gallantlye ador∣ned with rich apparell, he drew néere the place whereas she was, and looked round about him towardes all parts, to sée if there were any that came after her to séeke her, or if shée had any kéeper: but when he sawe that there was no body, he tooke her by the hand, and the childe followed him with a verye good will, alwaies looking him in the face. The Shepheard spake vnto her in the Tartarian tongue, and the childe spake vnto him in the Chaldean tongue, and as∣ked of him somewhat to eate, with a smiling countenance: this shepheard did partly vnderstand her & lead her vnto his house, and gaue her a dish of milke and sops of bread, and the

childe being a hungred did eate it with a very good will. The shepheards wife, who was somewhat discréete, séeing the great riches, that this infant Rosaluira had about her, sayde, Husband, I do beléeue that this child is of some high lignage as it doth appeare by her apparell, and surmounted beautie. It shall be verye well, that we doo kéepe her héere till such time as we doo know what she is. For in kéeping and ma∣king much of such a faire creature, cannot choose but redound vnto vs great profite. And if it so fall out, that we cannot learne nor know what she is, with this ritches y^t she hath a∣bout her, we may bring our selues out of all trouble, and be more richer then any shepheard in all this Countrey. This shepheard receiued great ioye with the finding this childe, acknowledging all that which his wife had sayd vnto him, to be very good and well spoken: and so in great secret they kept her eight dayes, maintaining her in the best wise they could, with such meates as they were accustomed to eate, al∣wayes hauing a great care, at all times when he went to Ie∣roshlima, to demaund if there were any inquirie for such a childe, although he beléeued for a certaintie, that she was of some straunge Countrey, by reason of her apparaile, and dif∣ferent language, which was an occasion that they put in practise their determined purpose: and laing all feare apart, they tooke from her, her rich apparrell, and put on shepheards apparell, as was accustomed amongest them, wherewith this childe was as well content, as with the other: and vnder that course raiment, she did discouer so great and surpassing fairenesse, y^t Diana was almost ashamed to extend her siluer beames, whereas this young feminine shepheard did walke, who alwayes carried in her hande a litle shepheards crooke, and following the shéepe whereas they did féed, many times with her golden haire about hir shoulders, being of so great beautie, that the glistering beames of Appollo passing tho∣rough, appeared to haue no vauntage of it. The olde sheap∣heardes wife did verie well intrate her, and made as much of her as she could, for that those iewells was the occasion of their great wealth. And againe this sheapheard was wise,

for when he sawe himselfe rich of money, yet would he not begin to vse his wealth too spéedely, because he woulde not giue anie to vnderstand of his sodaine riches, but by little and little he did imploie it in buying more sheepe, in such sorte, that he came to be the richest shepheard in all that Prouince, accounting and esteeming of that childe more then if she had ben their owne daughter. Now let vs returne vnto the Gy∣aunt that we left sleeping, who when he awaked and found missing the infant, was verie sadde, and tooke a booke, and beganne to make his accustomed coniurations to knowe where shée was become, but hee could not come to the know∣ledge of her nor anie thing touching her, and when he sawe that he had not so much learning to knowe where this in∣fant was, hée called to remembraunce the wise Ly••gandeo and Artemidoro, beléeuing surely that one of them had car∣ried her awaie, and beeing in this belee••e, hée straight wayes without an•••• more tarrying went into his Wagon, and be∣ganne againe to trauaile: but the greate sorrowe and lamen∣tation that Claridiano made for the absence of his sister was verie gréenous to heare. Likewise the Nurse Formisa did beare him companie with manie teares and sorrowful sighs, but the Gyaunt caused them to holde their peace, and did comfort them in the best manner he could, and so trauailing he left behinde him the riuer Euphrates, the kingd••me of Sy∣ria and of Babylonia, the greate kingdome of Media, the Gran Tartaria, and the high mountaine Masarpicoronas, in the which Alexander did shut vp the Centaures. Likewise hee passed other greate mountaines, riuers, and kingdomes, which I doo héere omit for to auoide tediousnesse. So long they trauailed till they came to the kingdome of Tigliafa, and passed the Port of Palato, and left behinde them Sina, and put his wagan in the pleasant Iland of Trapobana with∣in the Palla••ce of the king of Delso, before whome hée did present himselfe with this ••oung Claridiano by the hande, and sayd.

O good and bountiful king, héere I do present thée a pr••s••nt•• y^e greatest that euer was presente•• vnto any king: 〈…〉〈…〉

thée this childe, & looke vnto him as thou wouldest looke vnto thy owne person, for you shal vnderstand, that this is he that shall restore you into your kingdome, and shall set you at ly∣bertie from this subiection in the which you now are in, and shall put me in my kingdome, taking it out of that tyrantes handes who doeth now inioye it: therefore O king doo not forget to doe this which I haue tolde thée, for if wée dooe lacke or loose this remedie, all the hope that wée haue in this the restoring of our kingdomes is lost.

The king which in the wordes of the Gyaunt had great confidence, giuing vn∣to him great credite, tooke the childe by the hand and set him vp••n his knée, and kissing his faire face, hée sayde:

Ah my good friend, where hath béene séene a thing of so great beau∣tie and of so fayre and perfect proportion, it is not possible that amongest humane creatures shoulde be anie such, but rather some of the Gods hath descended from aboue, and hath ingendered him. And héere I doe sweare, by that which I doe owe vnto the deseruing of the mightie Apollo, to haue him in possession, and to intreate & intertaine him as though he were my owne proper and naturall Lord, and thinke my selfe in this dooing to be the most happiest king in all the worlde, and thou my friend in the meane time procure to kéepe thy person from the most cruell dogge, whome I dooe thinke is feared of the high throne of the supernal Gods: one thing there is which onely doth gréeue me & put me in greate feare, which is, that I would not we should bring vp so ten∣der and faire a youngling as this childe is, for to be a praye héereafter vnto so cruell and monstrous a beast as he. Then the Gyant answered and sayd: O king put thy selfe out of all doubt, for hée shall not onelye abate the courage and fu∣rie of this great and sauage tyraunt, but also in hearing him named, all the countrie shall be in a feare & quake: trauaile therefore in no other thing but to bring him vp with all the maiestie that thou maist, for thou shalt vnderstand that he is sonne vnto the most valiauntest Prince in all the worlde,

at which wordes the childe was in a great dumpe, and blushed in such sorte that his face séemed to bée a Ru∣bie:

so the Gyant tooke leaue of the king, not without great sorrowe to a part himselfe from that young Prince. The king tourned and gaue the childe againe to Formisa his Nurse, vntill such time as he came to the bignesse and sta∣ture to exercise himselfe in learning and in feates of armes, the which hée didde in so short time, that it put them in great admiration that did teach him, for that in lesse then the spare of thrée yeares he was so experte in both of them, that they neuer hearde in times past of anie lyke vnto him. Moreouer, in speaking of all manner of languages, hée was so perefect, that it séemed how that all his lyfe time hée had béene brought vp in the place where eyther of all the languages were spoken. His vnderstanding and pollycie was such in all manner of thinges, that not onely the king but all others were perswaded that hée was the sonne of some of the Gods, by reason whereof they did vse him with such reuerence as though hee hadde béene a thing sent vnto them front heauen. And when he came to be twelue yeares olde h••e was of such greatnesse, that hee seemed to bée twen∣tie yeares olde, his height was according vnto the mighti∣nesse of his members, which were excéeding well proportio∣ned: perticularly he shewed in his countenance a great gra∣u••••ie and sober disposition, verie little talke, but when hée spake, it was with great discreation, and his wordes verye well placed, verie full of humilitie, and if at anie time hée were angrie (as verie seldome hée was) it was in such sort, that béeing blinded therewith, he respected nothing. The wise Artemidoro sayth, that if this anger doeth procéede of base things, it were a great vice, and that it woulde ouer∣shadowe and darken all other vertues that a man was in∣dued withall, but he sayth that it did not come vnto him, but by too much force of the heart, and that it was alwayes accompanied with reason, which did nothing at all hurt•• him, but rather did the more exalt his déedes, and if it did chaunce at anie time that hée were angrie, in looking on them that were present he put them in greate feare. Besides this, hée was verye pittifull, for that manye

times, hearing talke of anie terrible cruelties, he woulde weepe for the compassion he had thereof. The king which euerie daie did see his mightinesse and vertues more & more increase, thought himselfe verie happie to haue in his power so precious a iewell. Manie other things I coulde tell you héere, of the noblenesse of this Prince, according as the wise Artemidoro doth discouer, but the successe of his worthie fa∣ther doth cause me to change my stile, to tell you of his high and mightie deedes.

¶Of the great paine that the Prince did sustaine for the ab∣sence of his cosin, and how he had battaile with a certaine knight that was verie dolorous through loue, & of all that which chaunced heerein. Chap. 17.

THE griefe was verie great which the Gre∣cian Prince receiued for the sodaine absence of his cosin, but he did comfort himselfe, for that hée vnderstoode that the vessell was go∣uerned by the art of Lyrgandeo, and perswa∣ded himselfe that it was conuenient, for that which should succéede, and so dissembling his sorrowe in the best wise he could, he went onwardes his voyage, verie desi∣rous to sée land, purposing that if he went alande, béeing on firme lande, not as then to goe anie more to Sea, and béeing still in this determination, hee sailed forwardes two dayes. The next daie following when that the Sunne had runne a greate parte of his course, they sawe comming to∣wardes them a greate Boate or Galley, of which the winde with his blustering gale did fill theyr sayles, and also it was rowe•• with foure Oares on a side, and hadde the Sea lyke∣wise fauourable vnto them, and the Princes shippe lost her waie, for that the winde was against her, and therefore they stroke their sailes and made a staie, intending to sée what was in the other Shippe: drawing nigh them, they hearde the sounde of a Harpe, which made a meruailous sweete and pleasunt noise in the eares of all the hearers.

And beholding with good aduisement, they sawe that within their boat they brought hanging at the mast an image, which séemed to be of siluer, of a meruailous great beautie, with this title written thereon: Floriana the daughter of the Duke of Cantabria, Ladie of all the beautie of the world. At her féet she had hanging by little chaines of siluer, many images of faire Ladies & damsells, amongst them all there was two which did hang higher then all the rest, y^e one of them had a crowne on her head, which séemed to be an Empresse, & the other to be a quéene, and euery one of them had their names written what they were, & reading y^e titles of those two which hung more higher then the rest, they saw y^e one of them was Cla∣ridiana Empresse of Trabisond, & vpon y^e other was writtē, Oliuia Princesse of great Britaine. O heauēly God, how great was the ire that vpon a sodaine appeared in the prince, when he behelde the image of his Ladie at the féete of the other which was highest, & blowing like vnto a wilde bull, he said: O my verie friend & one of great vnderstanding, if thou doe not spéedely assist to punish this great outrage offered me, frō this time forth I will renounce thy friendship & account thee as my mortall enimie, because I sée, for y^e more augmenting of my paine, thou hast shewed me y^• which might haue bene excused by shunning y^e sight of it. Tefereo which likewise did behold y^• which y^e prince had seene, & saw the great alteration which y^e sight had caused in him, & fearing y^• his outragious cholar, wold be the occasion y^t he shuld do some vnséemly act, he had great care of him, & surely he had done no lesse, but that little & little they drew nigher with their galley vnto y^e other boat, & they were so nigh y^t they might plainly heare the mu∣sicke that was within the boat, & for that it séemed vnto them to be very pleasant, they gaue attendant eare therto, & also to a song that a knight in y^e galley sung, which héere followeth.

FAine would I cloke and hide my heauie care, and closely beare the burthen of my griefe, If spite of will, my woe did not declare my sundrie sorrowes, voide of all reliefe:

Prouokte by her, that laughes when I lament, And in my tormen••••, seemes to rest content.

Oh blinded sense, whereby I was misled! and headlong tumbled into Cupides snare, Where I a while was with my fancie fed, which meate seemde sweete: but sauce he did prepare, [A shafte of golde, whose head was dipt in gall] This hit my heart, and spoyld my tast withall.

I know right well, that louer findes delight, which now and then hath pleasure mixt with paine: But well may he be deemd a haplesse wight, that voyd of hope, doth helplesse still remaine. So wretched I, haue ten yeares sued for grace. And for reward, haue frownes in friendships place.

Ah cruell loue, that first didst make me blinde, when I beheld the beautie of that face, Which made me iudge her of celestiall kinde, and deeme her heart dame Mercies onely place: But too too plaine I now in fine perceiue, That smoothest shewes, doo soonest men deceiue.

If thou desire my death for thy delight, with willing heart I will the same forgoe: But know, in heauen there is a iudge most right, that iust reuenge will for thy rigour showe. Take then no pleasure in my restlesse paine: Bloud guiltlesse spilt, requireth bloud againe.

The world likewise of me would deeme the best, and being dead, will tearme me, firme and true: But thee (still liuing) they will so detest, as thou wouldst soone with teares thy rigor rue. Wherefore waye all, and pitie my distresse: Least thou thy selfe in fine be comfortlesse.

I well doo know thy beautie is so braue, that onely it deserues ado'rde to be: And such it is, that none the like can haue, Ladie or Damsell, whatsoere she be. As Queene of beautie, thou deseruest to raigne: And this will I gainst any Knight maintaine.

This is that which I denie, aunswered the Prince vnto these words, and with a high voyce, he sayde, Knight whosoeuer thou art, come forth and defende this great lye, which euen now thou spakest, for it shall not be aunswered with any other thing, but with the losse of thy life. So their barkes were ioyned one with another, which the Prince see∣ing, he went and would haue leapt into the other boat: but he was disturbed by the comming forth of a verie well set Knight against him, being of a good proportion, who hadde heard the words which the Prince had sayd, and for to sée who it was which spake them, he came from vnder the hat∣ches of the barke. He was armed with gréene armour, the most richest that euer Knight did weare, & was full of these two letters F.F. all gylte. This Knight of the barke issued out not hauing his helme on his head, who discouered a ve∣ry faire face, such as hath not bene séene, but onelye that of the Prince, his beard began to bud as yeolow as the golde, and his haire was of the same colour. And when hée sawe that the Knight of the Sunne had his healme on his head, and that he was a Knight of so gentle disposition, and with so rich armour, he almost suspected who it should be, & sayd with great grauitie, It is not séemelye (especiallye in a Knight of such disposition as you séeme to be) to speake such proude words as you haue vttered, and aboue all, vnto one that doth estéeme them so little as I doo. The knight of the sun at y^e time was not to strain any curtesie, but answered, It is worse in them which doo presume of thēselues as thou dost, to speake lies & commit villany, in estéeming so little of them, y^t are not onely in beautie far passing y^e fairnes of this Ladie whom thou so honorest, but also of more, then any in

the world, and yet thou doost put her a degrée lower, making her whom thou doost serue to be the Princesse of all beautie, what diuell hath bewitched thée in this wise, & deceiued thée, not to esteeme nor to make anie reckoning of the excel••ent Claridiana. Dost thou thinke that the Grecian Prince is not in the world, or els dost thou vnderstande that hée is so oloe, that he cannot vse his members to maintaine her qua∣rell against such like falsehood as this is, which fondly thou forcest thy selfe to defend, take vnto thée thy helme, thou vile and naughtie Knight, ••or thy bold hardinesse is worthye of no other thing but death. By these reasons which y^e Knight of the Sunne had vttered, that was confirmed in the other, which before he did suspect, and rested halfe doubtfull to deale with him, but séeing he must of force he la••ed on his helme, and commaunded the marriners to grapple fast the Barkes together, the which was done with a trice, which caused the one to ioyne fast to the other, and so without anye more words betwéene them, they both drewe their swordes, and the Knight with the gréene armour tooke the aduauntage, & stroke the Prince such a blowe vpon the healme, y^t he made him stoope, and firme his hand vpon the ship boorde, and in great hast he doubled another with so great strength, that he was almost astonyed, and it made him to recoile backwards two paces, that he had almost fallen downe. The Knight of the Sunne came straight waye to himselfe, and lifting vp his mightie arme, he chaunced such a blowe vppon the helme of his enimie (which was as harde and strong as a Dimond) that it gaue such sound, that all the sea was occu∣pied with the noyse thereof. And made him to boowe with both his knées to the grounde. The gréene Knight meruay∣led very much of that great blowe which he had receiued: but for that he was strong and of great courage, he arose straight vp againe on foot••, and lent vnto the Prince such another blowe, and with so greate anger, that as it hit him on the wast, it made him to fall sidewards to the fore ship. The Prince didde not meruayle much thereat, but was straight way with him againe, and stroke him so mightie

a blowe vpon the helme, that it made the bloud start out at his eyes and at his nose, and he was so troubled therewith, that he thought a great tower had fallen downe vpon him. The Prince seeing him in this traunce, did procure to leape into his barke, but the gréene Knight by reason he was not fully astonished, with both his hands thrust at the Knight of the Sunne vpon his breast, for to hinder him from his entring, so that spite of his heart he made him to recoyle, and that in such sort, that he lacked but a little to fall downe backwards, which was the occasion, that his anger did the more increase. And either of them firming themselues on their feete, there began a new the battaile, with so great an∣ger and furie, that the marriners thought, y^t at euery blowe the battaile would haue bene ended. Neuerthelesse, the more they did fight, the more their anger did increase, so y^t theyr fierce blowes wer incōperable. Oh how much y^e knight of y^e sun foūd himselfe troubled to sée y^e great strength of his ad∣uersarie, for y^e except it were in the Knight of Cupide only, he neuer in any other had found the like courage & strēgth, as he did in this Knight with the gréene armour, who lyke∣wise did no lesse meruaile at the power of the Knight of the Sunne: and with this, in either of them increased greate courage, with like desire to ouercome their enimies, procu∣ring to strike the one the other with great furie, and multi∣plyed so their blowes, that neither of them was without his payment. The Prince was meruailously amazed to sée that the courage of his enimie did so long indure, which caused his anger in very straunge manner to increase in such sort, that he strake at him such strong and incomperable blowes that they were not to be suffered, and almost no resistance to be made. So long they indured the battaile, that the Sunne had made an ende of his ordinary course, & the heauie and mourning night began to throwe his mantle euer all the earth, in such sort that they could scarce see: but they were so kindled in their anger, & so furious in their battaile, that the darknes was not sufficient to seperate them, but they called with a great noyse for lights, that they might make

an end of their battaile, but Tefereo séeing their determinati∣on, conceiued great griefe that such a valiaunt knight as hée with the greene armour should runne in any danger of peril, he did perswade with y^e Marriners, & made signes that they should vngrapple their barkes, and béeing moued with great compassion they procured to doe it, so priuely y^t the knights might not perceiue it, the which was easily accomplished, for that they were so blinded in fiercenesse of this their battell, that they could not intend to marke it. The grapples wer no sooner taken off, when y^t the barke of the knight of the Sun with great force did seperate himselfe from the other, which when the prince did sée, and that he could not finish his desire, he was purposed to throw himselfe into the sea, for to come vnto his aduersarie, but considering that it woulde little pro∣fit him, he beganne to exclaime against Lyrgandeo to be his enimie and a robber of his honour, and saying that he was a vile man and of base bloud and lignage: with this and such like reproch, and other irefull thoughtes, the Prince went onwarde his iourney, and vppon a sodaine his Galley stroke a lande, and in a trice hée leapt out of her, and after him went out Tefereo, and caused theyr horses to bée ta∣ken out, and put them into a faire medowe full of verie faire and gréene grasse, where as they did féede. The knight of the Sunne béeing verie full of thoughtes and pensiue, hée woulde not consent that anie shoulde speake with him, but got him amongest a companie of fresh and gréene trées, where as hée remained till the morning. So verie earlye in the morning at the breake of the daie hee called for his horse, and when all that were with him were in a readinesse, hée beganne to iourney, and tooke his waie through a verye straight and narowe path, which brought them vnto a verie broad & common beaten waie, so they had not trauailed long in it, when they sawe comming a Damsell with a verie sad and sorrowfull countenaunce, as appeared by the greate quantitie of teares which procéeded from her eyes, and shée came in greate hast riding on her Palfraie, and when shée came nigh whereas the Prince was, hée and all that were

with him did salute her, the Damsell did returne vnto them the thanks, and with the great sorrow y^t she had in her heart she spake vnto them in the French tongue, and sayde:

Oh so∣uereigne Gods, that I might finde in these knights so much strength as the outward shew and appearaunce of their wel proportioned persons doth promise, then they woulde soone giue remedie to this my troubled sorrowe.

Tefereo who was not so troubled in his minde as the Prince was, aun∣swered and sayde:

Of truth Ladie your petition béeing iust∣ly demaunded and the cause conformable, wée will not one∣ly aduenture our persons for your remedie, but also our liues, for that wée are thereto bound by the order of knight∣hoode, in the fauour and defence of Ladyes and Damosells. The Damosell aunswered and said: I haue so much iustice on my side, that I doe meruaile howe the heauens do con∣sent vnto it, or why the humane force or strength of men will maintaine such falsehoode, notwithstanding, gentle Knight, if you promise mée to dooe your best to remedie mée heerein, I will declare it vnto you, and in the perfourming thereof you shall redresse thrée thinges. In the one you shall deliuer mée of this greate sorrowe and paine in the which I nowe am, in the other, you shall set at libertie the faire La∣die Artalanda, who is accused by the greatest and falsest treason that euer was inuented in the worlde, and most shamefully imputed vnto that innocent Princesse, and by the thirde you shall get to your selues greate honour, which is the thing that all good and valyaunt knightes doeth pro∣cure and desire in this worlde. The Knight of the Sunne aunswered: Wée knowe well that these thrée are to bée estéemed, therefore fayre Damsell, for my selfe and for my companion I thus much say, that we dooe offer our persons, with the conditions aforesayd.

In the meane time y^t he spake these words, the damsell did behold him very much, and it sée∣med vnto her y^t he was of a great valour, and séeing him of so good a proportion and so well armed, she imagined in her minde that he should be the knight of the Sun by all likely∣hoods, according as she had heard talke, and declared o••••en

times in the Court of the French king, and was perswa∣ded that it was none other, as appeared by all tokens that she before had heard, & comforting her selfe with these new and ioyfull thoughts, she desired them to alight from theyr horses, and that if it pleased them to sit downe vnder a faire greene arbour which was there at hand, she woulde declare vnto them the greatest treason that euer was inuented in the world, to the which these knightes did condescend with a verie good will, and béeing set downe amongst those gréene hearbes, the Damsell with a verie dolorous complaint be∣gan, and sayd.

Noble knights and Lords, you shall vnderstand that you are in the kingdome of France, vnto the king wherof it plea∣sed God to giue a daughter, of so great beautie & fairenesse, that it caused greate admiration vnto all them that behelde her, the which fame was spread abroade, which caused verie manie great and valerous knightes and Lordes of this and other kingdomes to repaire vnto the Court: amongest them all there came one who was sonne vnto the Prince of Scot∣land, and named Dalior, a man of a verie good grace & gen∣tle disposition, & one indued with al feats of good knighthood. Likewise there was another who was sonne vnto the duke of Guyan, one of the greatest noble men that was in all Fraunce, a strong and stout man and of great pride, and by lignage of the most valyaunt and strongest knightes in the world••, called Lidiarte. These two Princes had discord be∣twéene themselues, & did contend in the seruice of this faire lady Artalanda. The great contentmēt the which they recei∣ued, and the great brauery they vsed in apparell in this their seruice, I cannot héere expresse. But this faire ladie did so go∣uerne her selfe with discreation (who was indued with it as much as with hir beautie) y^t she made as though she vnder∣stood nothing of their desire, although alwaies she had a bet∣ter affection to the good will of the Prince of Scotland, then to the loue of Lidiarte, and for that, loue doth not permit y^t anie thing which appertaineth therevnto should bée kept secret, this vnbeloued knight did apparantly perceiue it, by

which occasion, the great griefe which he receiued, abated his co••••our and he waxed verie leane, and his face became ye∣low and wan, and did determine to chaunge his apparaile o•• ioye and gladnesse, and all pleasures, and to apparell him∣selfe in such sort, that she might well vnderstande his great sorowe and heauinesse. And to the contrary Dalior did shew himselfe in his apparell, the great contentment that he re∣ceiued, for that he did perceiue that his Lady did showe him some fauour: the which was vnto the young Earle the cause of great sorrow and griefe. Then Loue, who neuer resteth from finishing his effects, but alwayes doth with great effi∣cacie make perfect his workes, did wound with firme and faithfull loue towards Lidiarte, a damsell whose name was Tarfina, being in the seruice of this beautifull Princesse be∣fore named, who loued him so firmelye, that this miserable Damosell could finde in her selfe no kinde of quietnes nor rest, and most of all she now tormented her selfe, for that she ••awe so sodaine a change in her louer. This cruell paine did so much constraine hir, y^t she of necessitie was driuen to seeke all meanes & pollicies, to procure how she might at her ease talke with him, and giue him to vnderstand, with her own mouth, all the paine and griefe that she did suffer, and the onely cause thereof. And putting this her determination in vre, it chaunced on a daye, (as she might saye bitter and vn∣fortunate) after dinner when the Table was taken vp, she founde time conuenient to declare vnto him all that her heart desired, for finding her louer leaning against a cupboord all alone, shee came vnto him and saluted him with greate curtesie, the Earle did receiue her with no lesse gentlenesse, (beléeuing for that she was a Damsell of his ladie the prin∣cesse, that she had come from her of some message) she seeing so good opportunitie▪ spake vnto him in this manner. Many times noble Lidiarte, I haue bene mooued to demand of ••o•• what thing it shuld be, that hath so much strength and force, which onely doth not cau••e you to chaunge your gorgeous & braue apparell, but also doth take away y^e colour from your gentle face, and in this manner we••ken all your members.

Where is now all your brauerie and contentment, that you were wont to hau••? discouer vnto me all your paine and griefe, and the occasion of all this your sorrowe. Noble Lord let me heere vnderstand of all, and being knowen of this thy seruaunt, I will procure the best and most assured remedies, that may be for thy redresse conuenient. Tell me Lidiarte, if it be corporall griefe, or whether it be a wound hurte by the cruell force of Cupides dart. My louing Lord, I doo de∣sire you to declare vnto me the cause of all your sorrowe & griefe, and heere I doo protest and giue my faith, to procure with all my power and strength, by pollicie & other meanes to finde remedie for this your tribulation. These and other such reasons, with hir words well placed, spake this Damo∣sell vnto the Earle, with hope that he would declare vnto her, the cause of all his sorrow, and from whence it did pro∣céede. These swéete perswasions and louing reasons, tooke such effect in the Earle Lidiarte, that he discouered all that was in his heart, and the whole occasion as héeretofore you haue heard. This damosell when she vnderstood the whole effect thereof, it grieued her to the very heart, although shée did dissemble it, and kept it secret to hir selfe, and would not suffer him therein to know her minde: and straight way•• for her remedy, the diuell put into her head, a meruaylous & wicked inuention. And for to giue contentment vnto the Earle, she tolde him, that she would declare vnto the Prin∣cesse, all the whole estate of this his sorrowfull paines, and passionate griefe, willing him withall to remember, that the next daye at that houre, he should méete her againe at y^e same place, for that she would bring him an aunswere of all that should passe. And with this she left off her talke and depar∣ted, leauing the Earle somwhat comforted, with the hope of her aunswere, that he looked for the next daye: yet he stoode in doubt of her retourning at the appointed houre, & thought the time very long: so he passed all that daye & night with∣out any rest. And on the other side this amorous Lady was no lesse troubled and without rest, desiring earnestlye the

appoynted times approching: euen as the wearyed Marri∣ners being weather-beaten at the sea, and tossed héere and there by the furious force of tempestes and blustering winde alwayes in hope that they will abate, whereby they maye haue faire and peaceable weather, and so be ••ased of theyr great trauaile. At length, the long desired houre drew on, of their appointment, and the Earle repayred vnto the place: he was scant there, when that the Damosell likewise appro∣ched, almost at the same instant, and the Earle receiued her with great contentment: but the damsell said, y^t she had no time to haue any great talke with him, but onely my Lorde this I say vnto you, that this night at midnight she wil tar∣rie thy comming, wheras thou shalt fulfill all thy desire, and giue thée to vnderstand, how that she is not culpable of all these thy passed sorrowes and griefes, (naming a méeting place, which after shall be declared). And pardon me, I pray you, for that the time dooth not giue me any more lea∣sure to talke with you, and so without any more tarrying she went away, and lefte the Earle in such great ioye, that he was almost in an extasie therewith. The Earle went vnto his lodging, where he remained, and tarried vntil the time appointed, the which he thought very long, imagining euery minute a whole houre. The houre being come, he went alone vnto the place appoynted, and couered himselfe with a mantle of cloath of golde. He tarried not long ther, when that this infortunate Tarfina, put her selfe vpon a wal, wher as she put downe a péece of timber, whereby the Earle shuld laye holde on for to goe vp.

The Earle with the great desire which he had, thought all very easie to be done, and so with great lightnesse he got vppon the wall, and descended downe on the other side in∣to the gardeine. And when the Damosell had him there∣within the garden, she said: My Lord and Earle tarrie there a while, by the posterne gate of the pallaice, béeing the ente∣raunce into this garden: for thereout will issue thy Ladye and mistresse the Princesse, & in the meane time will I go

and aduise her, that thou art héere, and keepe thy self as cl••se, and in as great secret as may be. The Earle with no small pleasure kept himselfe secret and was quiet, abiding (as hee ••••oug••e) the Princesse comming. He had not taried ther long when that this wicked damosell came forth, adorned with the same garments which her Lady the Princesse had worn the daye before, and opening very softly that posterne gate, ••he issued out, and drewe her selfe towardes the light of the Moone, or that the Earle might knowe the garments. The which when that the Earle sawe, and knewe that they wer her garments, he thought berely that she had bene his Lady so long desired, and without anye more thinking, he fell downe vpon his knées, and taking her by the handes, he kis∣sed them many times, and so both of them by great pollicie and deceite, and with excéeding ioye, did fulfill their desires, and tooke their leaue each of other, with many pleasaunt and sweete wordes, fearing that the daye would appeare, they de∣parted. The Earle retourned vnto his lodging, wheras hée passed the rest of the darke night with great contentment. This Damosell did the like, putting from her those vsurped roabes of the honestie and honour of her Lady the Princes. So the next morning when it was day, the Earle rose vp, and apparayled himselfe with the most richest apparrel that he had, and went vnto the Kings pallaice somwhat betimes, and so walking round about out of one chamber vnto ano∣ther, vntill such time as he came vnto the chamber whereas the Princesse was, he lifted vp a cloath which was before the dore, where he might well discouer the innocent Ladye, with a praier booke in her hande, vsing her accustomed pray∣ers, & daily deuotion. This former dissembled & fained loue, gaue him great courage & hardines to enter into her chāber, & entring in, he spake vnto her certaine louing and amorous words, throwing his armes about her neck, and ioyning his face vnto the face of the Princesse: who séeing this great ••oldnesse, meruailed very much, and with the great alterati∣on of her heart, her praier booke fell out of her handes, and the arose vp vpon her féete, and began to crie out with a loud

voice, and sayde. O holie God deliuer me from this vncur••e∣ous and vnmannerly knight.

And a•• those words entred in the Prince of Scotland and certain of the Princesses Dam∣sells, but when the Prince did see the greate boldnesse of Li∣charte, he drewe out his swoorde with greate anger, and sayde.

Traitour, thou shalt not cléere thy selfe as thou doest thinke to doe, hauing committed so greate treason as thou hast done, and his anger was such, that he stroke at the Earle a terrible blowe, which was more of ire then regarding how he deliuered it, the Earle let the blow slippe by and running in with the same, he stroke the Prince such a blowe vppon the head, that he parted it in two péeces, and hée fell downe dead on the floore. The tumult and vproare was such amon∣gest the Ladyes and Damosells, that at their greate shrikes the king went thether, and his comming was in such hast, that this vnfortunate Lidiarte coulde not by anie meanes get awaie. There came in companie with the king, Beraldo of Burdeaux, and the Earle of Aniow, and the Prince of Vi∣arne, and many other knightes and Gentlemen. And when the king sawe the Prince slaine, and the murtherer standing by, the king stepped vnto him and tooke the sworde out of his hande, and sayde vnto him. Oh knight without measure or mercie, what hath beene the occasion of this thy follye to kill this Prince. There was by a Ladie of the Princesses, (who verie gréeuously lamented the death of the Prince) and told vnto the king all y^e truth of the matter as it ther passed, and when the king heard of all this enterprise, he receiued so much anger, that he himselfe in person did carrie him into a strong towre which was in the pallaice and put him pri∣soner therein and commaunded to put on him verie greate and strong chaines, and without any more tarrieng he called his counsell together, and opened the matter in publike be∣fore them all, whereas he was condemned for a traitour (al∣though there were some which did feare much his great po∣wer, but the king made no reckoning of it) and so before that he would breake his fast, he commaunded him to be hanged

out of one of the windowes of the Towre, and commaun∣ded publikely to be proclaimed all the whole treason, where as to all men was seene his sodaine & sorrowfull death. Then he commaunded the Prince to be buried with great honour, as vnto such a person did appertaine. After this the sorrow∣full Tarsina seeing that she was the onely occasion of all this euill, not remembring the losse of her virginitie, nor respect∣ing anie shame, which such as she was ought to haue and keepe, began to teare her haire, and to scratch her face, & gaue meruailous shrikes, that all the Pallaice did found thereof, and with greate furie she went vp vnto the place whereas her welbeloued Lidiarte was hanged, and when shee sawe him dead with so shamefull and dishonourable a death, shee beganne with great lamentation to publish the occasion of all this euill, saying.

Oh souereigne God, now will I acknowledge this great errour which I haue committed and done, for the which I doo not deserue one, but a thousand deaths: Oh miserable cre∣ature that I am, and vnhappie bodie that hath committed so great harme and villanie, and onely because thou couldest not refraine thy disordinate appetite, thy soule must nowe paye that which thou diddest consent vnto: Oh cursed delight, that for a little transitorie pleasure I would loose my virginitie, therby causing him whom I loued more then my selfe, to re∣ceiue so miserable a death & euil end, & haue likewise brought in great suspition the honour of my Lady the Princesse, ther∣fore I will giue my selfe the correction that so worthilye I doe deserue, paying with my life and honour, the prise of my great lasciu••ousnesse and diuellish hardinesse.

And with this she leapt into the windowe with great furie, and layde holde on the roape whereby the Earle was hanged, and slipped downe by it till she came and imbraced her armes aboute the necke of the Earle, and ioyning her mouth vnto his mouth, which was then verie colde and blacke with the bloud, and holding her selfe fast with the one of her handes, with the other hand she drewe out a little knife which shée had, wherw••th she cut the rope a sunder which he hanged by,

so that both of them fell to the grounde, whereas they were all broken to péeces, and there she dyed. The greate altera∣tion which was in the Court, when they vnderstoode of all this that had past, was straunge and without comparison. And although manie did heare her complaint, yet there was not one that coulde tell wherefore it was, till such time as a Lackie which was nigh her, declared all that you haue heard tolde, for that he had heard it worde for worde, but when the king did knowe the effect thereof, hée was verye much amased at it. And for that he woulde there shoulde be a perpetuall memorie thereof, presently hée commaunded that they should bée buryed both together, in a Sepulchre with∣out the Citie of Paris, declaring in it the effect of this dolo∣rous act, the which was forthwith published throughout all the whole kingdome. So when that this vnhappie death of the Earle came vnto the eares of his Father and all his kins∣folkes, they were verie sorrowfull, and receiued for it great griefe, and waxed verie wrathfull, and determined (if it were possible) to reuenge the death of the Earle, and deuised con∣tinually in secrete what order might best bee taken to bring it to effect. So in the ende of manie inuentions, they conclu∣ded, to accuse the Princesse, that shee should be the onely oc∣casion of all this euill. And the better for to compasse and bring this accusation to passe, they did commit it to the vsing of the brothers sonne of the olde Earle, and cousin vnto Li∣diarte, who was sonne vnto the Earle of Prouince, an excel∣lent and valiaunt Knight. The which accusation he did ac∣cept with a verie good will, and for to make their determina∣tion of more strength, they agréed to sende vnto the king∣dome of Sardenia, vnto a brother of the king Bramidoro, with whome they had at that time greate friendshippe, re∣questing him that hée woulde sende them some one of his lignage to fauour them héerein, the which he graunted with verie greate good will, and for that they shoulde the bet∣ter vnderstand the greate desire that hée hadde to pleasure them in this matter, he sent them two of his lignage, and by reason that they were Gyauntes and of a meruailous

huge bignesse (although all the world did knowe that the Princesse is without fault and not culpable) yet they dare not put their persons in aduenture, with those two horrible and disordinate monsters. So after they hadde made this their traiterous and false accusation, after manye and great contentions they grew in the end to this conclusion, that the Princesse should within the tearme of fiftéene dayes bring three knightes that with these other thrée shoulde make and maintaine battaile in the fielde for the defence of this false accused Princesse, and if so be that she coulde with∣in that time prefired finde but two knightes, then it shall be at their curtesie to take vppon them the enterprise, and nei∣ther more nor lesse then they thrée if shee did finde but one knight. Now there is twelue of these fiftéene daies past, so that within these thrée dayes the full time is expired: there∣fore noble Lordes and knightes, let me bée resolued what you will determine heerein. To loose our liues for to set at libertie this wronged Ladie, aunswered the Knight of the Sunne, therefore it is conuenient without anie more delaye that wee take our iourney thether-ward. Then the Damo∣sell sayd, how is it that you will take the enterprise in hand and bee but two, and they bée thrée, and besides, almost inuin∣cible. Then Tefereo aunswered, the iustice on the Princesse parte shall be the thirde person, take you no care fayre Da∣mosell for that, for although we are but two, we doe little esteeme them. When the Damosell sawe their liberall prof∣fer and determination, she was verie gladde and content, and straight wayes she leaped vpon her palfraie and they on their horses, and so rode towards the Citie without making anie farther delaie or tarrieng.

¶How the Prince met in Paris the knight of the Ima∣ges, and of the battaile he had with him, and howe they ouercame the three knightes which did accuse the Princesse, & afterward how Tefereo knew who the knight of the Images was, & of all that happe∣ned besides. Cap. 17.

WIth great hast the Prince and all that were with him trauailed that daie and the next in the kingdome of Fraunce, vntill they came within two leagues of Paris, so the next daie verie early in the morning they arose & tra∣uailed againe till they came within the sight of the Citie, and for that it was verie early to enter into the same, they alighted amongst a companie of trées, wheras by the great thicknesse they might not bée séene of anie: and re∣freshing themselues by a cléere fountaine of water that was there at hand, they sate downe and did eate of such as the Damosell had brought with her. So in this sort they passed the time, till they thought it to be the houre to goe vnto the defence pretended, so when the time drew nigh, they perused their armour in all pointes, and armed themselues and leapt on horse backe. Tefereo if it had not séemed vnto him to bée a point of cowardlinesse, wold haue procured to haue distur∣bed this battaile, for they against whome he shoulde fight were his kinsefolkes, but yet he thought that he was more bound by the order of knighthoode to kéepe companie with him with whom he came, and to resist such like wronges in the defence of truth and iustice, then to haue anie respect to his kindred, and especially in such like false accusations. Hee therefore determined to dissemble it and say nothing, so with these and such like thoughtes they went forwardes till they came into the citie, vnto the place appointed for this battell, whereas they found the Princesse set vpon a scaffolde, all co∣uered with mourning robes of great sadnesse, which did de∣clare and shew her great sorrowe and vndeserued trouble. So likewise all the whole scaffolde, and all the Ladyes and Da∣mosells that came with the Princesse were couered and ap∣parelled correspondent vnto her attire. The king was at a windowe of his Pallaice with no lesse sorrowe and sadnesse to sée his honour put vnto that blemish as it was. And that which gréeued him most was, that not one knight in all his Court durst giue the enterprise, yet was there present

all the whole companie of the knightes of his Court. So these two Gyaunts and the other knightes came armed in∣to the place with verie fayre and strong armour, and moun∣ted vpon greate and mightie strong horses, sauing the grea∣test of the Gyauntes, for that there was not any horse that coulde sustayne so mightie and huge a waight: wherefore he was mounted vpon an Elephant. So looking round about, the Prince sawe on the other side of the fielde the Knight with the gréene armour, which he had fought with all in the Barke béeing at the Sea, as I haue tolde you, who was in a readynesse to make the battaile in defence of the Princesse. This knight there by had hanged vpon a péece of timber all the Images that he brought with him, in such sorte as they were hanged in his Barke, the which when the Prince saw that the Image of the Dutchesse was aboue that of the em∣presse, his anger did so increase, that he had cleane forgotte wherefore he came thether, and spurred Cornerino his horse with so much furie, that by his force he made the grounde whereas he came to tremble and shake. And when he came vnto the place whereas the Images were hanging, he with his strong arme laide holde vppon the deuice and brake the chaines wherewith they were made fast, and swinged it a∣bout his head with such greate strength, that hée made them flye to the highest partes of all the Pallaice, the which was done in such great hast, that when the knight with the greene armour was come to disturbe him, it was too late, for that his Ladye was ••lowen vp into the ayre, whereat he recey∣ued so much anger, that without anie more adoe, he threwe his shéelde at his backe, and with both his handes he layde ho••de on his sworde, and stroke the Prince such a terrible blowe, that he made him to fal backwards on his horse crou∣per, without anie remembraunce, and with the great strength wherewith he stroke him, he made his horse to stoope vnder him. Cornerino being somewhat amased at this terrible blowe, carried his master rounde about the field, but before that the knight with the gréene armor could double to strike

him againe, the Prince was come vnto himselfe, and setling himselfe vppon his horse backe, being firmed in his stirrops, with greate furie he threw his shéelde to the grounde, and tooke his swoorde in both his handes, and pricked Corneri∣no towardes the place whereas his aduersarie was, who was likewise in a readinesse to discharge his blowe, so both of them together discharged each vppon the others helme, with such furie and force, that the Prince of the Sunne was constrained to fall vpon his horse necke as though hée hadde bene dead, for that neuer blowe that euer he receiued before that time did bring him to the like perplexitie, but onely one, the which he receiued at the hands of Rosicleer, when he had battaile with him. Lykewise the knight with the gréene ar∣mour did nothing aduance himselfe of his déede, for the blow which he receiued was so terrible, that he fell from his horse to the ground, and the bloud issued out at his month and nose with great abundaunce, and he stretched his armes and legs vpon the sandie ground as though he hadde bene altogether dead. The king and all that were with him were very much amased, to sée that so cruell and sodaine a battell should hap∣pen, without knowing the occasion wherfore. And more they did meruaile, imagining a little by the tokens of the horse who that knight should bée, which hauing his enimie for so valiant a knight in so short time had brought him into such extremitie. Now when Tefereo did sée the Prince thus put to his shiftes and in such great necessitie, and howe that hée laie vpon his horse necke without anie remembrance, hée be∣gan to crie out vppon fortune, and with great furie he drew out his swoorde and went against the defenders of the euill accusation, and called them traytours, (although they were his brothers children.) Héere you may sée what great force and strength the truth hath, that although they were his bro∣thers childen, yet he did procure their deaths, for that they came out of their owne Countrie, into a straunge and for∣reine lande to defende treason. The sonne of the Earle of Prouince was y^e first that did offer to put himselfe forwards, to whome Tefereo gaue such terrible and strong blowes

vpon his helme, that without remembraunce hée made him fall to the ground as one that were dead. The Gyants when they sawe themselues so ill intreated, both of them set spurs vnto theyr beastes, and drawing out their great and sharpe cutting swoords, they did procure to hurt him with theyr heauie and terrible blowes. In this contention the valiaunt Sardenian did shewe his mightie and strong courage with greate pollicie and cunning, nowe striking at the one, and then at the other, and alwayes prouiding to let their blowes slippe aside without receiuing anie harme, and such was his pollicie and lightnesse, that in a great while they coulde not fasten one full blowe vppon him. Nowe was the knight of Prouince come to himselfe, and séeing himselfe on the grounde, and his enimie so couragious betwéene these two mightie Gyauntes, he approched vppon the one side where∣as Tefereo coulde not sée him, and cut off one of the hinder legges of his horse, the horse when hée felte himselfe hurte, woulde haue risen vpright before, but by anie meanes hée coulde not, but recoyled backwarde with his crouper to the grounde, which was yet in such sorte that Tefereo had time to goe out of the saddle, with so greate anger, that the bloud burst out at his nose, and without anie feare before him, he pressed at the knight of Prouince, and thrust such a foyne at his breast, that his armour coulde not denie the passage but that the swoorde came out at his backe, so that hée fell downe starke dead to the grounde: hée had scant drawen his swoorde out of the bodie of the knight, when that (with∣out anie pollicie to defende himselfe, hée receyued such a ter∣rible blowe with the breast of the Gyantes horse, which came with such greate furie that (albeit agaynst his will) he was constrained to fall tumbling vnto the grounde, and al∣though the fall was somewhat heauie and gréeuous vnto him, yet with a trice hée was a foote againe, and séeing both the Gyauntes readie prepared against him, for his better de∣fence he thought it good to put himselfe on the other side of the dead horse.

At this instant the knight of the Sunne came agayne

to himselfe, and looking towards the place whereas the bat∣taile was, he sawe that his friend like a furious Lyon made resistaunce against the two Giaunts. My pen is not heere sufficient to signifie vnto you the great furie, that on a so∣daine came vnto this worthy knight of the Sonne: so that I suppose no Diamond rocke had bene at that time able to make resistaunce against him: for with a furious & hoarce voyce he sayd, Away, away you vile Knights, not worthy of these your great members, and double forces which you doo possesse, seeing that with so much shame this daye you haue maintained such great treason. The prince carried his sword in his hand, hauing reared it on high, redy to strike him that first came in his way, and raising himselfe in his stirrops, he stroke the Giant with the Elephant so terrible a bl••we vp∣pon his shoulder, that his double armour was not able to make resistaunce against this great force, but that it passed thorough, and diuided it in such wise, that he cut off the one quarter thereof, together with the head, and the rest which remained, fell downe to the ground, with so great wayght, that it made the earth to tremble. The other Giaunt in the meane time had stroke the Prince such a terrible blowe vp∣pon the healme, that it made him to gnash his teeth together, with the paine he felt, which was the occasion that he was whollye incensed with anger, insomuch that he pressed to∣wards him with no lesse rage, then the Hawke which pur∣sueth the Hearon, and stroke such a blowe at his head, that for the defence thereof, the Giant was constrained to lift vp both his armes, and the blow descended in such sort vppon them, that it cut them both in péeces, and his sworde being fast in his handes, they fell altogether to the ground. All the whole Court greatlye meruailed at these fierce and terrible blowes: and hauing thus concluded all that they had to doo the Prince returned vnto Tefereo, and sayd vnto him, Bro∣ther, doo you remaine héere, till such time that all be conclu∣ded that is héere necessarie to be done, and in the wildernes of Ardenia you shall finde me, in the very same place, where∣as we did rest our selues this day, and I desire thee to pro∣cure

to know who is that Knight with the gréene armour, and whether he be dead or no. And without any more tarry∣ing he spurred his horse, who made as swifte waye as the thunderbolt, and presently departed the Citie, and neuer re∣sted till he came vnto the place, whereas he tolde his com∣panion he would remaine. Then Tefereo went vnto y^e Iud∣ges, and asked them if there were anye more to be done, in the defence and fauour of the Princesse: and the Iudges an∣swered, that it was sufficient which was done, and that ther was no other thing to be done in that matter. When Tefe∣reo sawe that all was done that was néedfull, he went vnto the place, whereas the Knight with the gréene armor was, and pulling off his helme, he saw that all his face was swol∣len with the terrible blowe that he had receiued, and hée sée∣med as though he had bene dead. At the same instaunt, the King was come downe from his windowe, into the place whereas the battaile was: onely for to honor these knights and to knowe who they were. And when he could not sée the Knight of the Sunne, he asked for him, and straight way it was tolde him in what great hast he went from that place and out of the Citie: for the which the King was very sor∣rie, and if they had not tolde him, that it had bene labor lost to seeke him, he would haue followed to see if he could haue séene him, and haue made him to retourne to haue honoured him in his court. Then the King with amorous wordes requested of Tefereo to tell him who that Knight was, and he tolde him with a very good wil. And when the king knew that it was the Greeke Prince, he receiued great sorow, be∣cause he could not doo him the honour, as vnto such a knight appertained. But considering that they could not impute vn∣to him anie fault for the lacke thereof, he commaunded that the Knight with the gréene armour, should be carried vnto the Pallaice, and asked his Knights what he was, & it was tolde him, that he was the Prince of Spaine, who was cal∣led Torismundo.

And when the King vnderstoode, that he was a Knight

of so high linage, he commanded y^t all his Phisitions shuld ioyne together, and prouide all remedies possible for his re∣couerie, and that they should apply no lesse core vnto him, then vnto his owne proper person, the which presently was done, and they did apply the best remedies that could be got∣ten, till such time as they brought him somewhat to his re∣membrance, although it was with great labour. The prince of Spaine, when he sawe himselfe in his naked bed, his sor∣rowe was verye much: and calling to his minde all that which had passed, the very griefe he receiued, was almost the occasion of his death.

When Tefereo knew who that Knight was, and that there was no more to be done, without any tarrying he tooke his leaue of the King, and of the Princesse, who wept very sorrowfully at his departure. Tefereo tooke the horse of the lame Giaunt, (who with very anger to see himselfe in that pickle, woulde not consent to the receiuing of anye cure, neyther would he eate any thing, but there desperately dyed) and leaping vppon him he went to seeke the Knight of the Sunne. Where we will leaue them: for that I am nowe inforced by the swéete dartes of Cupide, to refresh the wea∣ried eares of the hearers, and to declare some of his lo∣uing woundes, and to leaue the furious sword of Mars for a while.

Now to retourne to the storie that is past, whereas if you doo remember, that the Prince Eleno of Dacia, ente∣red into that barke wherein the Knight was, which would haue forced a Ladye, and how that vpon a sodaine their gal∣lyes did seperate themselues, so that he lost the sight of his Cousin the Knight of the Sunne, and of Tefereo, and bée∣ing entered, he woulde haue made resistaunce against his aduersarie, for to disturbe him, that he should not commit the vyolence that he had offered. But vppon a sodaine they were all vanished, so that he sawe neyther Knight, nor Ladye, nor Marriners, nor yet anye other person, but onely himselfe in the Barke, with his inchaunted Horse,

neither could he sée who brought him thether: and thinking to re••ourne again into the galley whereas his cousin was, he could not finde him: but looking about, he discerned no other thing, but the Element & the water. When the Prince Eleno sawe himselfe absent from his beloued cousin, his so∣row was very great that he receiued, and began to curse all the wise inchaunters, and all those that doo permit & suffer them, for that they were the occasion that in the world, ther was so much euill done. When this Prince Eleno sawe himselfe all alone, and not one with whom he might passe away the time, there came vnto his minde his Florisdama, which was the occasion that he tourned to his accustomed sadnesse, and imagining that he was in her presence, he said:

Oh cruell Ladie which dost now reioyce thy selfe, and art at ease in the Kingdome of Dacia: art thou fully pleased with these my paines? Art thou now pacified, y^t thou hast brought me into this extremitie and trouble? wherein, I am in the power of I know not whom, and doo nauigate I cannot tell vpon what. Thy cruell heart I am sure is now content, sée∣ing that without desert, for thée I doo suffer so many trou∣bles: which as yet I am not certaine, whether thou hast pre∣tended or procured it shuld be so or no. Oh cursed inchaun∣ters, how many euills haue you wrought by the help of di∣uells, so that by reason of your inchauntments, many wor∣thye Knights are brought into such like troubles as I am. Héere you may sée into what extremitie this Magicall arte hath brought me, so y^t I can by no meanes profite my selfe of the strength of these my young armes, but am héere in the power of a diuel, who wil ouerthrow this barke: but that which doth most gréeue me, is, y^t I am brought into a place to dye, where of my death shall be lefte no memorie, but must die disdained of that cruell Lady.

So with great sor∣rowe and trouble, he passed thrée dayes, in the end of which, he discouered a very small Iland, which was in the middest of the sea. The barke made thether with great switnesse, so that in a small time he was fast a ground vpon the sande. It was not long after that the Prince leapt a shore, & when

he found himselfe out of the barke, he looked rounde aboute him on euery side. And towards his right hand amongst a company of greene trees, he sawe a small tent armed. To∣ward which the prince directed his way, with an easie pace, and entring into the Tent, he sawe no bodye, although hee remayned a while, and hearkened if he coulde heere any s••ir∣ring, but he could neither heare nor see any thing: but one∣ly he found the print of a lyttle foote vpon the sand, and hée had a great desire to know whose footesteps they were, for that they seemed to be of some Lady or Damsell, and find∣ing the trace, he followed them, and the more he went, it see∣med vnto him that the more hast they made, whosoeuer it was that had lefte that signe, which made him more earnest in his desire to see the ende thereof. So long he followed that trace, that in the ende he came vnto a little mountaine, whereas he found scattered about yeolow haire, which see∣med to be threds of golde: and stooping for to gather them vp, he perceiued that some of them were wet with spots of bloud, whereby he well vnderstoode, the great anger where with they were pulled of from the head. Likewise he saw in diuers places, how the earth was spotted with drops of liue∣ly bloud. Then with a more desire then he had before, hée went vp to the top of that little mountaine, and hauing lost the footsteps, he recouered it by gathering vp y^• golden haire, he had not trauailed farre vp the mountaine, when that to∣wards the water side he heard a great complaint, which sée∣med to be the voice of a woman, and by the faint sound ther of he might well perceiue that they waxed wearie, for that a while they would rest and be still, and straight way wold returne vnto their accustomed sorrow and complaint. And the words (which the Prince did well vnderstande) were these.

Oh loue, now shalt thou no more reioyce, neither haue any longer dominion ouer me, for that gentle death wil shew me so much fauour as to finish these my sorrowfull passiōs, and therewith vnloose and frustrate this string of loue, with the which thou hast bounde me, hauing a desire to aske re∣uengement of him, which hath bene the occasion of all this

euill.

I haue asked the same reuengement, but it hath not pleased the Gods to heare my request: nay rather they haue stopped their eares agaynst these my continual complaynts: and with this she helde her peace, giuing a very sorrowfull and terrrible sigh. The Prince Eleno tourning his eyes to∣wards that place, from whence he heard this comylaint, dis∣couered amongst certaine gréene trées, a Lady, who was in∣dued with maruailous great beautie. It was so excellent, that it depriued him of his heart, which he neuer thought a∣gaine to haue lost. She was with her haire all about her eares, and meruailously ill intreated by the violence that she vsed against her selfe, and leaning her chéeke vpon her deli∣cate and white hand, which was all to be spotted w^t bloud in many places, which was constrained by the scratching of her nayles. The spots was the occasion to dissolue the great passion which the Prince did féele for his Florisdama, repre∣senting in his heart, the figure of this heauie and sorrowful Lady: who seeing her of so great beautie, and in such afflic∣tion, was ouertaken and wounded with the demeanour of her faire face, and gréeued to sée her so euill intreated, in such sort, that in a sound he leaned to a gréene trée (amongst ma∣ny other which were vpon that mountaine) cleane without any remembraunce.

Oh Cupide, thou béeing but a boye, why doost thou vse these cruell kinde of feates. Who hath taught thée to vse such deceits, which is the occasion of great and endlesse vn∣quietnes. Thou dost show thy selfe to be blind, and yet thou art more quicke of sight then a Hawke. How is it possible that thou doost make vs beléeue, that without séeing thou canst hit so right with thy arrowes, and that with so good an aime thou dost wound wheras thou wilt. Thou subtill boy, doo not so plainly showe thy selfe what thou art, if thou doo∣est thinke to deceiue me with thy fained innocencie? It is sufficient thou showest thy selfe naked, for that thou art void of all pitie. Oh ye Gods giue me vnderstanding, that I may declare the subtilties and deceits of this false Cupide, for that I care not for him, neither haue I any feare of him. Héere

this noble Dacian did feele himselfe cleare of the loue of Flo∣risdama, and his heart was new set on fire with the sight of the faire Lidia, vnto whom he had subiected himselfe, and remained more without hope of helpe for his last woun••e, then he was of the first. And when he came vnto himse••••e, and ••elt that he was freshly wounded, he did delight him••••lf with the yeolow haire, the which hee had in his hande, and considering with what yre it was pulled of, and also cal∣ling to remembrance her complaint, he did plainly perce••••e that the occasion of all this her sorrow was loue. So with these considerations he lifted vp his eyes, and did behold the great beautie of Lidia, & gazed on her faire face, which was disf••gured with the wounds y^t she had made with her na••les in scratching it, and it was all to be spotted with the bloud that procéeded from the same wounds: likewise he did me∣ditate in the great and thicke teares that distilled from her sorrowfull eyes. All these was the occasion wholly to con∣firme his new griefe, and with a sorrowfull sigh looking on the yeolow haire he sayd. Oh haire, if with the great ••urye of loue thou wert torne off, with how much more force is thy owner graffed in my heart. It hadde bene farre better, haire, that thou hadst still remained to haue garnished that gallant face, which (as it doth appeare) at other times didde much esteeme of thee▪ then héere to be scattered abroad vpon this mountaine, and hauing lost a mistresse of so great va∣lor, thou doost giue occasion of death vnto him, which neuer offended thee. But in recōpence of this euill which thou hast caused vnto me, héere I doo promise to make much of thee, & to put thée within my bosome, & lament with teares thy de∣solatenes. And héerwith, he went towards y^e place where she was: at which noyse y^e Lady did lift vp her eyes, & séeing the Prince, with a soft voyce she sayd: A my friend, is my Bre∣nio come back again, doth he take anie griefe for his d••stres∣sed Lidia. This new louer whose hart yerned to sée her pain, replied w^t weeping eyes. Faire Lady, I cannot answere vn∣to this which you doo aske me, for that I am a strange knight brought by fortune to beare thée cōpany, & to be partaker of

thy sorrowe and paine, and to wound my selfe in beholding 〈◊〉〈◊〉. This faire Ladye gaue eare vnto the wordes of this Knight, beléeuing that he woulde haue giuen her some good newes, for the mitigating of her sadnesse, but she perceiued that he was a straunge Knight, she lifted vp her head, and with wéeping eyes she said. Gentle Knight, if my loue haue bene the occasion of this thy sorrow which thou dost show, I doo desire thee to depart, for in me thou shalt find no other thing, but that which only I desire, that is, death. For what loue can they haue, that so cruelly are forgotten, what possi∣bilitie is there of helpe in them, that are without all hope. Wi••h so great griefe Lidia deliuered these and such like rea∣sons, that the ouer much anger she had, caused her to retain her words, so that she could not speake, but gaue a maruai∣lous and sorrowfull shrike, that the stoniest heart that euer was, would haue bene mooued with compassion. This good Dacian, séeing that at that time there was no remedy for his euill, by reason of the great paine and griefe, that the fayre Damosell séemed to sustaine, cōstrained himselfe by discre∣tion to suffer a while, considering y^e time did giue ease vnto all things: so hoping in time to haue helpe of his disease, and turning to talke vnto Lidia, he requested her that shée would shew him so much fauour, as to declare vnto him the cause of all this her sorrow and paine. So this Ladye did declare it vnto him, in so sorrowful a sort, and with such pi∣tifull sighes, that the tempestuous sea being mooued with cō∣passion▪ contrarie vnto his accustomed noyse made a newe & straunge rumour in the caues néere vnto the shore. The Prince with no lesse paine attended vnto her sorrowfull ••ale, so that it was euen a tragedie to beholde the heauie & lamentable prospects of either of them. Then in the end of relating this heauie historie, the faire Lidia held her peace, and remained silent with wonderfull sadnesse. This trou∣bled Dacian wholly yeelded vnto his new griefe, replyed: What furie, what cruell, and what a hardened and stonye heart had he, that a beautie so farre surpassing, coulde not mooue him to yéelde.

Then the faire Lidia, who well vnderstoode from whence these gréeuous and sorrowfull spéeches which the knight had spoken procéeded, yet not giuing him to vnderstand that she had anie knowledge thereof, sayd. Sir knight, I render you great thankes for the sorrowe which you séeme to receiue at my griefe, but if you be a knight of estimation as by your personage it doth appeare you should be, héere I doo desire you by the honour you owe vnto the order of knighthoode, to per∣forme two requests which I shall desire thée. The valiaunt Eleno aunswered: I doo not onely Ladie graunt vnto this which you doo demaund, but I am wholy subiect to your ser∣uice, and will not refuse to doo anie thing that you will com∣maund me. Well, séeing it is so, sayde this faire Ladie. I first request thée to carrie me from this solitarie land, wher∣in I haue receiued so much wrong, and therewith shee arose vp and beganne to descend from that little mountaine to∣wards the waters side, at such time as Phoebus finished his accustomed course.

¶Of all that happened vnto this faire Lidia and to the Prince Eleno, after they departed from the little moun∣taine whereas they met. Chap. 19.

BY reason of the great darknesse of the night, and againe for that they woulde take som•• rest, they woulde not enter into the Barke at that present. The Damosell Lidia that night entered into the Tent somewhat to rest her wearie limmes, but the Prince re∣mained without whereas he walked vp and downe all the night. And as the solitarie night is an enimie vnto quiet∣nesse, so béeing alone there came to his remembraunce ma∣nie thinges past, which caused him to sustaine sundrie pas∣sions, wherefore to comfort himselfe, hée went vnto his Galley for his Lute, and retourning a lande, he sate him downe behinde the Tent, and beganne to put his Lute in consort, although the force of loue bée more full of discord

then concorde. So when his Lute was in right tune, h•••• beganne foorthwith to play vpon it, and with a sweete and pleasaunt voice he sung these vearses following.

HArd is his hap that still of helpe hath neede, crooked his chaunce that neuer ••ase can finde, And great his care that fresh is forst to bleede By Cupides shaftes, that tyrant most vnkinde, who ceaslesse plagues the poore afflicted minde, And hauing once possest at will the heart, The same adornes with wailing, woe, and smart.

Amongst the crew of those that feele this care, euen I my selfe may most of all complaine, Which now haue twice bene caught in Cupides snare, wherein I felt dolor, distresse, and paine, with which oppression yet I doo remaine: And so shall still for ought I can descrie, Till friendly fates accord that I may die.

For why? the Dame whom I in heart adore, disdaines me not, I will it not denie, But doth with teares her owne mishap deplore, in that a knight she loude, from her did flie, iudge then (ye heauens) what simple hope haue I. She followes him that left her comfortlesse, And kills my heart that yeelded her redresse.

When he had made and end of this song, with the great griefe that he sustained he fell into a sound, so that his Lute fell out of his hands, but within a small time he came againe to himselfe, and crossed his fingers and wrong his handes, and distilled from his eyes many ••al••e and sorrowfull teares, and lifting vp his eyes vnto heauen he remained in this case a greate while without anie remembraunce. This sorrow∣full Ladie did well heare and vnderstand this swéete and cheerefull song, but by reason that all her minde was vpon

her cruell Brenio, his delicate musicke had no strength to re∣moue ••ne ••ot of her loue. In this sorte as you haue heard they passed all the night till the morning, so ••he daie b••••ing come, this fayre and afflicted Ladie arose vp and went out of the Tent, whereas shee ••ound the Prince walking vp and downe, and with a sorrowfull and softe voyce she reque∣sted him once againe to take her out of that vncharitable I∣land. The Prince without anie tarrieng tooke her by the hande and lead her into his Galley, wherin they were scant both well imbarked when that the Gally beganne to shoue from shoare, and to saile with such swiftnesse that in a smal time they were in the deapth of the great Sea, as though he which did gouerne it had bene the wise Artemidoro, who for the deliuerie of this sorrowfull Damosell had ordeined all this that you haue heard. This Ladie was verie much ama∣zed to see her selfe carried awaie in that manner, and durst not aske the prince anie manner of question, for that he was verie sadde and pensiue. Likewise the Prince Eleno conside∣ring the great sorrow and trouble that Lidia receiued, d••rst not saie anie thing vnto her, so in this sorte they trauailed all that daie and all the night, till the next daie that they dis∣couered lande, without speaking one worde the one to the other, and in a small time the Barke came so nigh the lande, that they might discouer a verie faire and well ••owred ••••∣tie, the which was adorned with a verie faire hauen, full of meruailous greate and strong shippes. So this Galley sailed in amongest the thickest of them all till it came to the shoare side, where at theyr ariuall, they discouered a land, a verie well fough••en and bloudie battaile, beeing harde by the hauen, which was made by verie manie knights, which fought onely against thrée knightes, who balyauntlye did defende themselues, the one of them was Bargandel, the other two, Lyriamandro and Zoylo the Tartarian, that if you dooe remember, when that the vaylaunt Rosicleer in mortall battayle slewe the king of Tiro, who was a verie mightie and strong Gyaunt, and howe that they sawe

a good waie from them two Foistes, in battaile together the one with the other, and determining to goe vnto them to see what it should bee, the valiant Rosicleer leapt into his Gal∣ley, which was carried another way with so great furie, that Zoilo was driuen to remaine, & he departed in great hast. So this Tartarian Zoilo remaining alone in his shippe, directed it towards them that were in battaile, and came vnto them at such time as they had great né••e of his succour, for that they were oppressed by the same ship of the rouers that met with him, and they were in a meruailous great fight, but with the aide of the Tartarian, they assailed them in such sort, y^t if they had not yéelded themselues to mercie, they had sonke them all in the sea, & taking all their oths they made them to sweare that they shuld leaue that euill and naughtie life. Then they all entered into the ship wherin the Tartarian was, with de∣termined purpose to proceede forwards whether their fortune would carrie them for to get them fame, and to increase their honour. So the weather constrained them to ariue in the port of Numidia, whereas you haue heard tolde, in that countrie they did constraine all knights that there did ariue, to sweare vnto them to aide and helpe that traitour their Lord. These Princes would not be sworne except first they wold declare the cause wherefore, and héerevpon they multiplied wordes, which was the occasion of this cruell battaile, which y^e prince Eleno did see being in his Galley. So it séemed vnto him to be a verie vnseemely thing and vnequall, so manye against thrée knightes onely, who according vnto the great and wor∣thie feates which they did, they gaue the lookers on to vn∣derstande that they were of noble estate, and for to succour them hee woulde willingly haue leaped a shoare, but first hee desired the faire Lidia to remaine in quietnesse vnder the hat∣ches of the Galley, for that he was determined to go forth to aide and helpe those thrée knightes. And without anie more carrieng with great speed he leapt to the shoare, carrieng his swoord in his hand, and his sheeld on his arme, he pressed in amongst them all, saying.

O vile knightes, cowardes, and of small estimiation▪

wherefore are you not ashamed so great a number of you to fight onely against thrée knightes, and therewith stroke such a terrible blowe on him that he did first meet, that he made him in two péeces to fall to the ground, so that in a short time by his furious entering was knowen the greate pow∣er of his arme, in such sort, that whersoeuer he went, he made a broad waie, and with small trouble he ioyned with y^e thrée knightes, who when they knew of the helpe that was come vnto them, each of them recouered new strength, and did pro∣cure to doe straunge feates, because the other should haue no aduauntage of them. And they verie much meruailed who that knight should be of so great prowesse, for y^• the blowes which he stroke might well be knowen from all the rest, for if it had not bene by the armour that he wore, they woulde haue thought him to be one of the sonnes of Trebatio. These foure knightes kept so good order in their fight against their enimies, that they gaue ouer to fight with them, and began to showte and crie against them, so that they were constray∣ned to goe and séeke their enimies, the which they founde to be no good remedie, for that they did intreate them euilly at their backes, and béeing verie angrie héerewith, they determi∣ned to put themselues amongest the thickest of them, which did not fall out well with them, for that there was of them together more then ten thousand, the which this valiant E∣leno séeing, he threw his shéeld at his backe, fullye incensed with anger, and with his swoorde in his hande all alofte, hée pressed vnto that parte whereas most people were, and the first he met withall, hée parted him in the middest, and the second hée cut off his head, and so went forwardes cutting and wounding nowe one and then another, with so greate furie, that there was none that durst abide his blowes. Is there anie doubt that whilest this Prince was thus trou∣bling and molesting his enimies, that the other thrée knights which were with him did stande by and looke on, no not so, but for to sociate his worthie actes, they wrought such wonders in armes, as the reporte woulde séeme almost in∣creadible vnto the hearers, in striking such terrible blowes

that they séemed to be no humane creatures. They did fight with so much courage that their enimies wer constrained to withdrawe thēselues back, it was a great trouble vnto these knights that they were a foote, for if they had bene on horse∣backe all foure together, without doubt verie quickly they had made an end of the conquest, so being in this conflict they ••awe come foorth of the citie a great number of knights, and before them came a well proportioned Gyaunt, armed with verie fayre and rich armour, who with great hast came vnto the place whereas the knights were, and when he sawe the great harme which was there done, with a terrible and fear∣full voice he sayd.

Oh immortall Gods, is it possible that foure knights hath done all this harme, that a thousand of very good knights are not able to doe, and is their strength and pollicie such, that not one of thē haue receiued anie hurt. O wretched knights what had you rather to die in my power then to sweare vn∣to so iust a demaund as they haue asked of you in y^e behalfe of the king Noraldino. Then Lyriamandro who hearde the wordes which the Gyant had sayd, aunswered. There is not one of vs, that for the feare death will sweare vnto anie thing, but first we wil knowe if the cause be iust, because we will not fall vnto anie crime of that which shall be contra∣rie vnto the order of knighthood. So then I doo perceiue said the Gyaunt, that you do not purpose to sweare in any thing except it be first declared vnto you what it is, and the occa∣sion thereof. To the which aunswered Zoylo, no. Well héere I sweare vnto you by the high Gods (sayd the Gyaunt) that I my selfe alone will bring you all to that staye, that you woulde willingly sweare, but then you shall haue no time. And therewith he drewe out a broade and glistering swoord and flourishing therewith he pressed forwardes, then the Prince Eleno stepped foorth and requested the other that they would let him alone with y^e gyant, the which although it were against their wills, yet they consented to it, and the other putting themselues all on the one side, they beganne againe theyr mortall battaile. The Gyaunt with the greate

furie hée had, did discharge his blowe, but it was in vaine, for that the Prince did let it slippe by, in such sorte, that hee coulde not strike him, and in putting the blowe aside, hée cut the sayde Gyaunt vppon one of his legges, and made a wounde, which although it were not greate, yet there ranne out of it verie much bloud. When the Gyaunt did féele him∣selfe hurt, and that he sawe his bloud runne downe, hee did so kindle in ire, that he let his shéelde fall to the grounde, and laying holde on his greate and broade swoorde, with both his handes he lift it vp, and stroke at the Dacian, thinking with that one blowe to haue finished the battaile, but the Prince for that he was nimble and light, did procure straight waies to cleere himselfe from the force thereof, the which he did in such sort, that the swoorde fell downe to the ground, and by reason of the great force and furie wherewith it was discharged, the Gyant was constrained following his blowe to fall likewise downe vpon the earth. Héere the Dacian was not idle, but with both his hands stroke him vpon his strong helme with great courage, and although he could not cut it at that time by reason of the hardnesse, yet it astonished him & brought him out of his remembraunce. The Gyant which sawe himselfe in this perplexitie, with great furie in the best manner he could, tumbled himselfe on the one side, and pro∣cured to arise vpon his fee••e, but it was not possible for him, for that he was tormented with greate and heauie blowes, and forced to fall downe againe vpon the sande, but yet as soone as he coulde, he tourned once againe and forced him∣selfe to arise, but he could not doo it with such spéed, but first he must proue againe the sharpe edge of the Dacians swoord, who stroke him such another terrible blow vpon the helme, that it yéelded, and he cut his flesh. The Gyant did f••ele him∣selfe verie ill with that blowe, and with the great furie and anger which he had, he stroke at the knight a terrible blowe which was in such sorte, that by anie meanes hee coulde not shift himselfe from it, but must needes receiue it vppon his helme, the which was with such force, that it made him to fall down to the ground, but this knight w^t great lightnes tūbled

himselfe awaie vppon the sands, and in a trice he was on his feete againe, and went towards the place whereas the Gyant was, with full pretence to strike him such a blowe, that hée should not be able to make anie more resistance. The Gyant when he sawe him comming woulde haue stroken him, for to disturbe him of his blow, but he could not, for that this Da∣cian stroke him such an ouerthwart blowe, that lighting on his foote, he cut it cleane off, and the Gyant chaunced a blow on his helme, that it made the knight to tumble on the sand, the gyant seeing him downe, would haue turned to haue stri∣ken him againe, but he could not for the lacke of his foote, for when he thought to firme his foote on the grounde to prease forwards, he could not make a step, but gaue a terrible fall to the ground, and béeing sore troubled with the wound of his head and other wounds, he yéelded vp the Ghost, and sent his soule to whom it did appertaine. The Pagan people when they sawe their stout Captaine dead, with great showts and shrikes they pressed altogether vpon those foure knightes, but they found thē neither dastards nor cowards, but they gaue them well to vnderstand y^t they were of great val••ur. Then they ioyned themselues together backe to backe, and stroke such straunge blowes vpon their enimies, and with so great force and furie, that he which had receiued one blowe would not turne to them againe, with great feare they were so scar∣red. Prince Eleno being incensed with anger, at the fall that he receiued by the blow of the Gyant, it caused him to claspe his sword fast in his hand, and with double furie he pressed amongest his enimies, that vnhappie he might thinke him∣selfe that came to the receit of the first stroke, for that with an ouerthwart blowe, he cutte his head cleane from his shoulders, and returned vnto another, and stroke him vppon the wast, so that it had neere hand parted him in two péeces, so with such like blowes and feates of knighthood they made them to retire. And at the same time they sawe comming forth of y^e citie a great number of knights & gentlemen, which they iudged to be about sixe thousand in an armie, and all on hors backe. It could not be chosen but y^e this valiant Prince

Eleno should haue some feare, séeing so many Knights: not∣withstanding, with a loude voyce, and with great courage he layd. Excellent & valyant knights, now is y^e time, (most noble & stout warriors) that we show the great strength & courage of our heartes, by a plaine testimoniall in leauing our bodies as sacrificed vnto their wills, and our bloud to be sprinckeled abroad, receiuing more ioye and honour in our deaths, fighting in our owne defence, then to giue con∣sent vnto our enimies in ouercomming vs. Notwithstand∣ing, this young warriour did not forget himselfe, but rather with more furious blowes he pressed on his enemies, and working such terrible feates, that it is very wonderfull to be heard: and so without all hope of their liues, commit∣ting themselues vnto God, they did procure by all meanes, to cut off and make lesse their enemies, killing them in such sort, as it séemed to mans capacitie impossible. The quan∣titie was so great, that by reason of the bolud that ran from them, the water on the sea side was made red, and lost his naturall colour, and being in this conflict, there approached all that great companie that came foorth of the Citie. And before them all there came a Knight armed with very faire and rich armour, all gylded, and something of a good stature and bignesse of body, & he had on his head a royall crowne: who when he came vnto the place whereas this bloudy bat∣taile was, he comma••nded all the people to stand aside, and with a seuere voyce, showing great humilitie, he sayd. Uali∣aunt and worthy Knights, whom Iupiter defend and kéepe, I f••••le my selfe very sore troubled, in séeing Knightes of so great valour and worthinesse as you are, to be indued with so much crueltie against your selues, and onely for not swe∣ring an oath, (considering you haue chaunced vpon this ad∣uenture) whereby you should make defence against so great treason againe me practised, of traitours, which onely by ty∣raunnie pretende to take away my kingdome from me. To the which words, the valiaunt Prince Eleno made answer, and sayd. If thou hast iustice on thy side, as thou saist thou hast, wherefore doo you consent to suffer so vyle a custome

in this your Countrey, constraining all straunge Knights by force to sweare vnto your defence, the which by 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and order of Knighthood they must doo it of their owne free wil, if you giue them to vnderstand the truth therof. To whom the King answered and sayd, Gen••le Knight, all this which hath bene done, was neuer by my commaundement, but by this my Captaine whom thou hast heere slaine. And for that I did vnderstand the great harme which he did, & that with∣out all reason, I am come hether to remedy it: for which cause I doo desire and pray you, to let the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of your strōg armes to cease, and to pacifie your s••ou•• courages, and to take in good part, to come and rest your selues with me, the which you may doo with all securitie. And heere I do promise you to holde and kéepe my faith and word the which I doe giue vnto you: and then wil I declare vnto you all my trouble, whereat you will not onelye take greate contentment to sweare that which I shall request you: but also I beléeue that you will of your worthinesse take the demaunde to bée your owne, according vnto the great right and Iustice, that I haue on my part. So these foure Knights were satisfied of all that this Morish King had promised vnto thē, & by his words were ouercome and yeelded vnto that which hée had demaunded of them, and were determined to go with him: at y^e which, y^e King receiued no small ioy, for to haue so vali∣ant Knights w^t him in his companie. Then y^e King alighted and caused them to put vp their swords into their sheathes, and did them as great honour as though they hadde ben in their owne Countries. Then the Prince Eleno seeing how that all things were finished, he determined to goe for his faire Lidia, but when the King knew who she was, himselfe did beare him companie, and tooke her out of the galley, and brought her a shore. All that did beholde her, did meruayle at her great beautie, beeing mixed with so much sadnesse. So the King tooke her by the hand and bare her company, till he came vnto the Citie, and carried her vnto his pallaice, which was very rich and great, for this king was one of the migh∣tiest Princes in all Africa. So straight way it was cōmaun∣ded

to make ready dinner, for that it was very néedfull, the which was accomplished very sump••uously. When they sate downe to dinner, they pulled off their helmes, which before that time they had not done: and when the Prince Eleno had pulled off his healme, all the rest did thinke verelye, that it had bene the valiaunt Knight Rosicleer, (for that as I haue tolde you) he was very much like him) complaining for that he had kept himself so close, without shewing what he was in so long time. The Prince with a smiling countena••ce did put them out of al doubt, in showing them who he was of the which they remained very much amazed, & for all that, if he had had a little more beard, they would not haue belée∣ued him. The King was very well content and pleased that he had such Knights in his company, & told vnto thē a great circumstance of treason, cleane contrarie to that it was, ap∣plying all the iniurie to be offred vnto himself, mingling his tale with counterfet teares, which caused these Knightes to giue credit vnto his words, in such sort that they did sweare vnto the King all that he would demaund, of the which this traiterous King remained greatly contented, and ordayned for thē very faire & rich chambers to ease thēselues, with all seruice néedfull, & likewise for y^e faire Lidia, for he lodged her in the Queenes chamber, & caused many Ladyes and Dam∣sells to come and beare her companie, and to serue her in all that was necessarie, for that he perceiued how the Prince E∣leno did receiue great pleasure therein. In the end of twen∣tie dayes that these Knights had soiourned with the King, there came one and aduertised the King, how that ther was arriued in the port of the Citie, a faire ship, and how y^t ther descended out of her a Knight, and a well proportioned Gy∣aunt: and by reason that they would not hearken vnto the accustomed oath, which they that didde arriue there shoulde sweare, that there was begun a meruailous and stout bat∣taile, with them that did keepe the Port, wherein the knight did meruailous & worthy feates, and likewise y^e Giant. The which being heard by those knights y^t wer with y^e king, they called for their armor, & wer w^t a trice armed, & there were

brought vnto them very faire and strong horses, which the King had commaunded to giue them, and mounting on their backs, in great hast they went out of the Citie to the hauen side, to the same place whereas they fought theyr owne bat∣taile, whereas they founde these two knights with no lesse rigor & furie, then they themselues were before. So straight way, three of those Knights did knowe, who that Knight & Gyant was, which were in battaile, & sayd, that it was Cla∣uerindo and the King of Sardenia, whom I told you depar∣ted out of Greece in the quest of the Emperour, and by for∣tune they were driuen into those parts, for that the King might haue more ayde for to execute his tyranny. Then the valyant Zoylo pulled off his helme and sayd. What is the matter valyaunt Prince, that you show your selfe so furious against him, which in all poynts is redy to be at your com∣maundement. At which words, the Prince lift vp his eyes, and when he behelde those thrée Princes and knewe them, he very much meruailed to see them, and lefte off his battel, and so likewise did Bramidoro, and all thrée w^t their armes abroad, came to imbrace him. And Clauerindo saide, It had not gone very well with vs in this conflict, if these knights had not knowen vs, and in saying these wordes, he threwe his armes about their neckes with great ioye that he recey∣ued to sée them: and with no lesse ioye and pleasure all the rest did showe themselues & sayd. We are those which haue most gotten in the knowing of you, for that we haue put a∣part the great battaile that was prepared for vs. So with the like courtesie they receiued the Prince of Dacia, who, if that the other had not tolde him what he was, he wold haue beleeued that it had bene Rosicleer. So with these and such like reasons, at the request of the other Princes, they went with them vnto the Citie, at such time as the King came foorth, accompanied with a faire companie of Knightes and verye well armed, who receyued them with great cour∣tesie, & caused y^e prince of Fraunce to ride w^t him side by side. So they altogether returned vnto the Citie, and then to the Pallaice, whereas they were meruailously well intertained,

and there the King tolde vnto them all his contrarie and chaunged treason, wherefore these two knights did swear•• and promise vnto the King, the same which the others had done. The prince Clauerindo had so great affection vnto the Prince Eleno, that he would not at any time departe from him, neither would the Prince Eleno doo otherwise vnto Clauerindo, declaring vnto him all his euills and strange ad∣uentures. At which communication was present the king of Sardenia, and when he heard him tell of his aduenture in Tinacria, and of the battaile that he had made with Tefe∣reo, and how that he was ouercome, he with more affection behelde him, and requested him to heare the whole estate thereof. So the Prince did declare all, and how that hée de∣parted, and how that afterward he found the princesse Lidia, that Lady which carried the Emperour out of Constanti∣nople: the which being all knowen vnto them, they would straight way goe and visite her, and she receiued them with her accustomed sadnesse.

Now for that I haue long time forgot that noble Em∣perour, I will retourne, and tell you what happened vnto him, at the fountaine of Tinacria, where I lefte him.

How that the Emperour went vnto Tinacria, and of all that passed in the battaile, which he had with the Earle of Modique. Cap. 20.

IN great trouble and affliction we lefte the valiaunt Emperour Trebatio, in the Iland of Tinacria, harde by the fountaine of mar∣ble, at such time as the Earle of Modique with his speare in his reast, was prepared for to hurt him. The Emperour seeing him come, he had greate care of himselfe, and being in a place that neither to the one parte nor to the other he coulde slip backe to saue himselfe from that blowe, he did determine to stoope with both his knées and shorten in his bodie, for that he was sure he coulde not ouerrunne him with his horse, by reason

of the fountaine that was at his backe. The Emperour de∣fended himselfe in such sort, that the speare without dooing him anie hurt went ouer his head. The blowe was not so soone past when that the Emperour rose bolt vpright, and cast such a thrust at the horse breast, that his sword entered in vp to the hiltes. The horse when he felt himselfe hurt, gaue a leape into the aire with so great swiftnes, as though it had bene a whirlewinde, and in the ende, he fell downe to the earth with great force, & in his fall, he caught y^e Earles leg vnder him, in such sort, that he could not by any meanes arise. Heere might the Emperour haue slaine or hurte him, but hee would not, for y^• he séemed vnto him to be a knight of great estimation. Then all the people that were there, both them a foote & those on horsebacke, with great showts and shrikes they would haue set vpon him: but they could not come nigh him at their wil, for that the dead horse was betwéene them: & againe, the Earle was a shield for his de∣fence, who was prisoner vnder his horse right before him. So at this instant came foorth of that faire pallaice, a great number of knights and Ladyes, and amongst them y^e faire Quéene Garrosilea. And when all the people sawe her they put themselues out of the way towards the one side, by the which the Emperour vnderstood that she was Lady of all that Countrey. She came formost of all that company, bee∣ing so faire and so well proportioned, that she seemed vnto the Emperour to be as beautifull as euer he behelde any in all the worlde: she was of the age of fourtéene yeares, but yet her body was of a maruailous and great stature. She was adorned w^t very rich robes, & vpon her head a crowne of gold, which was very great, placed with such grauitie, as her state required. And when she drew nigh vnto the place whereas this warriour was, she verie much meruailed at his w••ll proportioned bodie and good disposition, and at the se∣uere and faire countenaunce of the Emperour, and tourning vnto him, in the Tuscan tongue she sayd.

Worthy and valyaunt Knight, whatsoeuer thou arte, thou doost séeme vnto vs, that thou art a straunger. Not∣withstanding,

thou must not thinke that thou art in a place, whereas shall be done vnto thée any thing without reason, although I doo not know, how thou canst excuse thy selfe, for dooing of all this harme, which I sée thou hast done vnto so valiant and worthy Knights, as these which I doo sée dead before thée, onely by the strength of thy arme. And wherein I may most excuse thee, is in their small prowes: for al∣though they were armed, and thou naked without armour, yet had they neither power nor force to bring thee vnto pri∣son. And therefore, seeing their small force, I determined, bee∣ing a woman and a damo••ell, to come forth of my pallaice, to make an ende of that: which without great harme and damage could not be ended by Knights. Therefore nowe séeing there is no other remedy, I doo desire thée that thou wouldest yéeld thy selfe to be my prisoner, and giue vnto me the glorie and triumph, that so many worthie Knights could not attaine: and put thy whole trust and confidence in me, and I doo promise thée that no man shall doo thée any wrong, or offer thee any thing against reason.

The Emperour did well vnderstand all that the Quéene had sayd vnto him, but he made as though he did not vn∣derstand her, and tourned to aske her what she had sayd, in saying, that he did not vnderstand the language, and howe that he was a Grecian borne. Then the Quéene who was very discréete, and could speake the Gréeke tongue very wel, renewed her tale, and spake that in the Gréeke, which before she had done in the Tuscan tongue. Then the Emperour boowed his knées to the earth, and with an humble voyce, he sayd. I cannot deny, most excellent & faire quéene, y^e great grief which I haue, for that which I haue done, neither can your knights deny y^e iust occasion y^t I had to do it. For they finding me a sleep & taking my rest by this fountaine, being constrained thereto, by the trauaile I receiued at sea, and be∣ing cast aland in this your countrie, they did ••ntreate me as they would not intreate a plough man, constraining theyr courtesie against my will, and doing that, which the graui∣tie of my heart would not permit.

In the ende séeing that they did so ill intreate me and in such manner, I did determine first to dye, then to yéeld my selfe vnto them as prisoneer, neither would I haue altered my intent, if it it were not now by occasion of your greate beautie, accounting my selfe happie to die at the commaun∣dement of so excellent a Lady: all this time that the Empe∣rour was speaking vnto the Quéene, she neuer withdrew her eyes, from beholding of his personage, and had great ad∣miration to see the Maiestie of his countenaunce. O cruell Cupide, wilt thou nowe beginne to vse thy accustomed mallice. O false tyrant, I can neuer talke in these or suche lyke matters, but thou art alwayes at hande. This quéene was so blinded with loue, that without any more conside∣ration, she went vnto the Emperour, and tooke him by the hand, and made him to stand vpon his feete and sayd. Uali∣ant Knight, I doo account my selfe verye happie, for that I haue had so much strength, that only with my person I haue mooued your stout courage to so great humilitie. And with this she caused him to put vp his sworde into his sheathe, and promising him safetie, she led him with her into the pal∣laice, and commaunded that the Earle should be taken from vnder the horse, for at that time he had not so much strength to cleare himselfe from that fall: for that it was in suche sort, that it did broose and intreate him very ill. And when they came vnto the Pallaice, the Quéene commanded that there should be giuen him a meruailous faire and rich lodg∣ing. And for the great complaints which were made of him, she commaunded, that he should be kept in good warde, al∣though y^e prison which she gaue vnto him, was not so strōg, as that which the Emperour had giuen occasion vnto the Quéene to haue, & although it wer not very grieuous, yet the Emperor could not choose but feele it, when he saw himselfe locked vp, being neuer accustomed vnto any such trouble: the Quéene had great care of him, and caused him to be healed of those small wounds which he had, and that with great di∣ligence, in such wise, that in a small time he was whole of his paine, swellings and other griefes. In all this time, the

Earle and all the kinsfolkes of them that were slaine, made great hast and sute vnto the queene to execute iustice vppon this knight that was prisoner, but she did defend the case ve∣rie much, and excusing him in declaring vnto them the small right she had to doe it, and giuing them to vnderstand how that they had their paiment according vnto their deserts, but by reason of the great importaunce that those knights made, she was constrained to keepe him straighter in prison, which was vnto her so greate paine, that she could scar••e dissemble it. So the Quéene beeing thus sore troubled shee went vnto her chamber, and there was betwéene her chamber and that, where as the Emperour was but one wall, and out of the Queenes chamber there went a doore, whereas manye times shee communed with him. Thus béeing verie pensiue and sore troubled, for that she was constrained to commaund that which her heart would not consent vnto, she went her selfe close vnto the doore to sée if she might comfort her selfe with the sight of her prisoner and captiue, and she chanced to come the••her at that time as the Emperour did complaine verye much of his fortune, vttering meruailous pittifull and sor∣rowfull wordes.

Oh cruell fortune without all stabilitie, en∣uious, and the onely causer of all my vnquietnesse, I see that no mightinesse nor the power of anie Monarch is sufficient to bridle thy disordinate appetite. Art not thou content in do∣ing me so great euill, in y^t thou broughtest me out of my wor∣thie Empire, cleane contrarie to the will of my subiects, and didst not holde fast thy wheele till such time as thou haddest deliuered mée into the handes of straunge people. It hadde béene better for me to haue dyed in the deapth of the Sea, or else with the edge of the Swoorde lyke a knight, then to sée my selfe in the power of barbarous people. O Emperour Trebatio, now after so many and great troubles in the which thou hast séene thy selfe, and hast ouer passed them, and by this misfortune thou art put vnto that greate necessitie, that neyther thou cannest profite thy selfe of thy valyaunt cou∣rage, neither of the strength of thy worthye and valyaunt knights.

And so in such like anguish he walked vp and downe the chamber, and swore that if he did sée himselfe at liber∣tie, he would not giue credit vnto anie such faire wordes as the queene had promised him, and sometimes he threw him∣selfe vpon his bed, calling for his valiaunt sonnes, and his wise men, saying. Oh my sonnes and my friends, if that you did know of all these my troubles, I am sure that you wold giue mee aide and succour with the strength of your armes, in leauing this Iland desolate, which by you was once re∣stored, & now as it is happened to the hurt of your Father: or at least wayes, if thou Lyrgandeo or Artemidoro, or anie of you would giue mée succour with my armour and horse, I dooe héere sweare vnto you by the almightie God, that in the anger and furie that I am in, that in spite of all Tinacria I would set my selfe at libertie, and leaue them so plagued as their deserts do deserue. And with this he helde his peace for a while, and looked round about to see if he could finde a∣nie place where he might get out, and séeking he found a ve∣rie fayre and well proportioned Lute, hanging vpon a naile on the wall, the which he tooke downe and did put it in tune, and beganne to plaie with verie swéet melodie, accom∣panied with a verie heauie and harmonious voice, & against fortune he sang these verses following.

YOu worthie wights which fortunes frownes haue felt, and headlong falne from top of high estate: And all, with whom she mutably hath dealt, consent with me her falsehood to relate. Whose double face when smoothest it doth smile, Then meanes she most the mightie to beguile.

Ay me poore Prince a patterne of her spight, Who earst on top of all her wheele was plast: And now haue care in steed of late delight, for regall crowne with captiues life disgrast. From Croesus wealth farre worse then Codius pore: Fie froward fortune what canst thou doo more?

Well, since that I haue felt thy farthest ire, in this distresse I flatly thee defie, And for redresse, I onely death desir••, hoping that then my soule to him shall slie, Whose due it was before that I was borne: Who with his wisdome laughs thy slights to scorne.

And thus making an end of his song, he threw his Lute vpon his bed, and turned vnto his accustomed vnquietnesse, and agayne complaining of Fortune he sayd.

O vile coward and ingratefull, tell mée where is thy habitation, and thou shalt see if this whéele in the which thou goest, canne profite thee anie thing or deliuer thée, that both thy selfe & the whéele be not broken all too péeces by my strong hande, if I goe out from hence: and I will neuer rest till such time as I haue found thee, and although thou doest hide thy selfe in the deepe and infernall places, yet will I not leaue to followe thee tyll such time as I haue rooted out all thy power.

These and other lyke wordes this sorrowfull Emperour vttered, with so great anger, y^t if he had found himselfe with armour, there had béene no doubt but that he would haue broken the cham∣ber whereas hée was prisoner, and in spite of all Tinacria haue set himselfe at lybertie. The Quéene which was hear∣kening vnto all that which the Emperour sayde, was not so much kindeled with the loue of the Emperour before, but nowe it increased without measure, when shee heard and vn∣derstoode what hée was, and if it had not béene for the respect of her estate, out of all doubt shée had entered in where as the Emperour was, but brideling her owne will, conside∣ring what an euill reporte shée shoulde haue amongest her subiectes, if they should by anie meanes attaine to the know∣ledge thereof. With this and such lyke extremities shee re∣mained a greate while silent, till such time as the force of loue did so ouercome her, that shée forgot cleane all that tou∣ched her honour and royall maiestie, and determined to open the doore, which without anie delaie she didde, which straight wayes the Emperour hearde, and thinking

to be some other thing, he arose vpon his féete, and tooke his swoorde in his hande (for the Quéene woulde neuer consent that his swoorde should be taken from him,) and when hée sawe that it was the quéene, he did quiet himselfe, and dis∣sembling his anger in the best wise he coulde, the Quéene drew neere vnto the Emperour, and dissembling what shée had heard, she saluted him and sayde.

Gentle knight, howe doo you féele your selfe of your passed trauaile. To whom he answered, I can make no other answere, most mightie La∣die, but the verie same which you your self may think, if you were prisoner, especially for such an occasion, as you ought rather to receiue fauour and camfort, and therefore I cannot but muse at your highnesse, knowing in howe little fault I am, that you set me not at libertie, but I doo well see that you are a Damosell and subiect vnto the will of your subiectes, for looke what they ordaine you dare not resist against them, therefore faire Ladie I dooe desire you if you pretend to set mée at libertie (as by promise and iustice you are bound) let it bée out of hand, and if anie of your subiects will say to the contrarie, I request the acceptation of the battaile for the defence of my right, with eight or tenne, or if they will, with twentie of the best in all your kingdome, and I doubt not but in mine owne person against them al, to deliuer my selfe from this enthralled perill: vnto whom the queene answered with a verie good grace. I dooe well vnderstande gentle Knight, that the highnesse of your heart cannot suffer such straight imprisonment, as well for that which I haue seene of thee, as also for that which I haue heard. So likewise thou maist well beléeue, that which I haue done, hath bene partly to content my subiects and people, for that this euill hath fal∣len out vpon the person of the most mightiest man amongest them, and of this be you assured, y^t the thing which you would haue done, and so much desire, shal not be done, onely for that you are without faulte, although they charge you with it greatly, but also for that thou art Father vnto that excellent knight of the Sunne, whome in this my Ilande they ho∣nour for one of the most high and souereigne Gods, as a

restorer of the same, and againe, that it is not decent that so high and mightie an Emperour shuld in this Iland be so ri∣gorously intreated, as that his cause should be determined by the tearmes of iustice, vnto whome not onely they, but the whole world, willingly ought to serue, for that thou art an Emperour, and father vnto such a sonne. The Emperour was verie sore troubled when he perceiued y^t he was know∣en, the which this faire Ladie marking, went forwardes in her talke, and sayd: Doe not vexe your selfe, neither bée anye whit troubled (most mightie Prince) for that you are know∣en, considering that of such a one as thou art it is reason we doo estéeme, according to thy desert, neither can my captiue heart consent vnto anie other thing but the exalting of thy honour. Alasse what shall I saie, who hath receiued most wrong for their imprisonment, it hath bene onely my christal breast and captiued heart, they haue wronged thy bodie but for a time, but me, loue hath bereaued of my former libertie, in wounding my hart, so that it is almost vncurable. In this (my good Lord) you may vnderstand that I a lone am shée which hath the greatest wrong. Thou valiaunt Emperour hast taken awaie from the Earle of Modique his sonne, but thou hast robbed me (most infortunate) of my heart. Oh how much better had it bene for me to haue bene pertaker with him of death, then now to liue, not knowing what cruel loue will doo. Oh immortall Gods, how is it that you haue per∣mitted that the tender hart of a poore damsell, béeing alwaies willing to offer vnto you sacrifices, and exercising of my self daily in your seruice, and now in payment of all this, you haue permitted it to be sacrificed vnto the cruell will of Cu∣pide, who hath forcibly pearced my feeble heart with his fu∣rious darts. I beseech thée (O Emperour) doe not denie mée this my vnreasonable demaund, although thou séest it so far to exceed the meane. Oh virginitie, thou maist well be com∣pared vnto a rose, which so long as the leaues are reserued w^t∣in the bud, it kéepeth the naturall coulour, but when it once begins to blow, then doth it quickly change, euen so the flou∣rishing beautie of virgins doth no sooner bloome, but Cupide

blotteth it with his despiteful blemish. O foolish quéene what caused thée to depart out of the Pallaice whereas thou wer•• at libertie and without griefe, didst thou it for to do honour vnto the Emperour, & yet not knowing him. Well, for what cause so euer it were, see now what is become of it, for that fréely thou hast yéelded thy selfe vnto him, without reseruing anie thing in thy owne power.

All this the quéene deliuered with such sorrow and lamentation that it would haue caused a stonie heart to haue relented. But the emperour who with a single heart did loue the Empresse Briana, and moreouer béeing a verie good christian, was not moued with one of these lamentable words, neither made he anie shew of loue vnto the quéene, but wishing rather to haue had battaile with one of the hardiest knightes in all the world, then to haue found himselfe so sodainly assailed by this amorous woman: wher∣fore when this faire Ladie had plainly declared all the whole secret of her heart, the Emperour vsing his accustomed dis∣creation, did shew himselfe to be verie heauie and ••ad for that which the quéene had heard, and taking her by the hand they sate downe together vpon the corner of the bed, and beganne to answere vnto her amorous reasons, although not so much vnto her purpose as she desired, saying.

〈…〉〈…〉 Ladie and quéene, I am fully certified that from so 〈…〉〈…〉 and beautie there can procéed nothing without 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and therefore I did now loose the confidence of your ••••uour, when I was vnknowen, much more nowe that you 〈◊〉〈◊〉 know me to be the Emperour of Greece, the truth wher∣of I doo héere confesse. And although I finde my selfe in the land where all the people be my mortall enimyes, yet for all that I will not denie who I am, because my heart where∣soeuer it becomes, cannot but vse manifestly his noble cou∣rage. Heere this Quéene did cut off his answere, saying: Oh Emperour I doo not aske of thée anie recompence, neither doe I demaund of thée whether thou be our enimie or our friend, but the thing which I alone desire of thée is this, to giue a remedie vnto this my paine, & a plaister for my sore, for that the viewe of thée hath béene the onely occasion ther∣of.

Oh Emperour, what trifling is this, to talk of that which is not aunswerable vnto that which I demaunde: Oh wor∣thie Emperour, haue compassion on me, for that thou alone maist remedie this my euill, for thou séest apparauntlye the néede I haue of thy helpe: Oh that it had pleased the Gods that my remedie were as sure as thy libertie, restore vnto me (I beséech thée) that wherof thou hast bereaued me by behol∣ding thée, yéeld vnto me O swéet Emperor, séeing that I am alreadie yéelded vnto thée, insomuch that there is no doubt, but to put into thy handes the spoyle of my royall marry∣age.

The Emperour did leane his chéeke vpon his hande ve∣rie pensiue, all the time that this Ladie was declaring her complaintes, not for that he was without pittie, but for that he was mooued with greate compassion, and yet not with de∣termination to satisfie her disordinate appetite, but with faire words to put her in good hope of remedie. And verye faine she woulde haue aunswered, but that shée was cut off by a Damosell which called her. The Quéene dissembling her heauinesse in the best wise she coulde, went out of the chamber to sée what they would haue, vnto whom the Dam∣sell saide. Ladie, there is a messenger come from the king of Mauritania, which dooth tarrie for you belowe in the pal∣laice, wherat this faire quéene did féele her selfe troubled, the occasion was, for that this king was in loue with her, who was verie valiaunt and of great force, and began to gouerne his kingdome verie young, with another brother of his, who at that time was not knighted, neuerthelesse to heare him named in all Africa, it made the people to tremble with feare, therefore manie times by reason of his greate pride his fame was much abated. This king did determine with himselfe to marrie with the Quéene, eyther by fayre meanes, or else by force, and for to put this his pretence in practise, hée sent vnto her his messengers, and for a more maiestie, hée made his owne brother Lord Embassodour. And séeing this historie will most intreate of this young man who was called Brufaldoro, y^e wise author wold discouer

his customes and manners, he saith y^t he was in the stature of his bodie well néere a leauen foote high, and all his mem∣bers conformable vnto his height, béeing indued with incre∣dible strength, he had his countenaunce verie graue and of great beautie, without anie anger, verie tractable, and a gen∣tleman of great curtesie, hée detested to doo anie thing that was vnseemely, he was verie readie to correct where it was néedfull, and farre from anie vnhumane crueltie: all which vertues were extinguished when he was angered, for that then in all Africa and Asia there was no wild beast so fierce and cruell. And many times it hath ben séene, when his an∣ger had ben past, he would haue weapt with great sorrowe for the hurt which he had done, he hadde one custome which was verie diuellish (béeing no small blemish vnto all the rest of his good qualities) that he woulde neuer pardon them of whome he had receiued iniurie. So when this Pagan was come into the pallaice, and in the Quéenes presence, with a graue countenaunce and hardie voice he declared his embas∣sage, and by reason that at that time the quéene had not her heart at libertie, she gaue him for answere, without tarrying to take anie farther counsaile, that her intent was not as yet to marrie, for that she was verie young, wherwith this Pa∣gan departed, and did returne to giue this answere vnto his brother Bramarandus, at which he was verie irefull, & com∣maunded to make sacrifices vnto Mahomet, praying vnto him for to chaunge the will of the Queene, that shée might marrie with him. Then there was made aunswere vnto him (by the Diuell which hadde entered into that infernall Image of Mahomet) that hée shoulde not tarrie for anye other hope to obtaine her, but by force of armes, and that hee shoulde procure with all his strength and power for to marrie her, adding that from her shoulde procéede an in∣fant, at whose valyauntnesse and strength halfe the world shoulde tremble and stande in feare. This false God did well diuine and prognosticate, but yet he did deceiue the wretched Bramarandus, in saying, that of his séede shoulde procéed such a child, & when he heard y^e answere of this accur∣sed

Mahomet, he commanded, y^t withall diligence should bée ioyned together, fiue hundred of the most valiantest knights that might be chosen, not onely in Mauritania, but also in Numidia and Garamantes, for that not one King of all these countryes would deny him any thing, with pretence with them and himselfe in person, to win by force that, which by faire meanes he could not obtaine: and imbarking them∣selues, with a prosperous winde, they came in a small time vnto Tinacria: and before they would goe ala••d, they did send their Ambassador a shore, to sée if they did finde her first purpose altered. The which message was committed to a mightie strong Moore, called Forimon: who did declare it vnto the Quéene with proud and obstinate words, threate∣ning them with cruel warres, if to the contrary they would not con••ent vnto the marriage. There was present at this Embassage, the Earle of Modique, and the Earle of Mode∣li, and the Earle Farlera, and the Marques of Aposto, and many other valiant Knights: and although they made an outward showe, that they did not estéeme of it, nor made any reckoning thereof, yet they were in great feare. The good Earle of Modique with a sad voyce said. Oh mightie Iupi∣ter, how well thou hast payed thy selfe for the great curtesie which thou hast showed vs, in giuing vs for our Ladyes and gouernours, the fairest damosels in the world. For not long since we did behold one of thē w^t her own hands to thrust a sword through her brest (which was a pitifull sight to sée): & now y^e other is euen at y^e poynt to doo y^e lyke. Notwithstan∣ding now shall my life perish, for to maintain my honor, in y^e seruice of my Lady and Quéene. And with this, they did all determine, rather to haue warres with honour, then peace with shame: waying the little good will the Quéene had to marrie with him, & to take him for hir husband. And with this determination, they gaue him for aunswere, that the Queene was not intended to marrie as yet: so that if hée pleased to tarrie the time he might, if not, he might doo as he thought best, and that they would not let, but defende the ho∣nour of their Lady and Quéene.

The messenger not well pleased with the aunswere, retour∣ned to declare it vnto his Lord. And when he was gone, all the Quéenes Knights determined to fortifie themselues in the Citie, and make all things very strong, and so they gaue the Quéene to vnderstand thereof, whereof she was verye well content, séeing them so well incouraged for her defence. The daye following they commaunded to call together all the best Knights of y^e land, that they might come to her aide and succour: for that there were verye manye in that I∣land. But that same night Venus would haue wrought one of her accustomed cruelties, if she had not bene hindered, as héerafter you shall heare in the chapter following.

¶How the Queene beeing kindeled with the fire of loue, and seeing that the Emperour would giue her no remedie of her paine, wold haue stroke her selfe with a sword to the heart, wherewith to haue fini∣shed her life: and how the Emperour was cōstrai∣ned to consent vnto her will. Cap. 21.

IN the meane time that they were putting all things in good order, as you haue heard, Cupide did not cease, but continuallye tor∣mented the Quéene, so that euery daye she did not let to trouble the Emperor, with hir louing and amorous complaints, prouoking him in what she might, vnto her will, who alwayes with great discretion did delay the same, vntill the last night that they were determined to leaue the Pallaice, and to enter in∣to the Citie. Then this faire Ladye indured verye greate paine, vntill such time as the cleare Diana with the fairnes of her beames, had passed the halfe part of her iourney, when that all the people were at their accustomed and naturall rest. Then this faire Garrofilea arose vp from her bed with a desperate determination, which the force of loue inforced her to practise, and couering her selfe with a very rich robe, she tooke a sword which had bene the King her Fathers,

and put it vnder her lefte arme, and in her right hande shée carried a light that she might the better finde the dore, the which she opened as softly as was possible, at such time as the Emperor, was very fast a sléepe, and when she saw that he did not heare her entering in, she went vnto the beddes side, with the light in her hand, that she might contemplate her selfe in beholding the graue and faire face of the Empe∣rour, and vnto her it séemed that in all the world there was not such another, nor that there could be any greater thing to be desired, then that which her heart did require. In this sort she was beholding him a great while, vntill such time, as the sorrowfull sighes Garrofilea set, caused the Emperor to awake, and when he saw the Quéene, he was very much amazed, and would haue risen vp, whereto y^e Quéene would not consent, but caused him to lye still, and setting the light vpon a table which was in the chamber, she came and sate her downe vpon the bed by the Emperour, and shedding ma∣ny teares of perfect and true loue, she sayd.

My Lord, I wold very faine know what thou dost pre∣tend towards me, most vnfortunate Quéene, wounded with the darte of Cupide, onely by the sight of thy excéeding per∣sonage. For knowing it, with thy aunswere I woulde put in order, that which I haue to doo, concerning this my mi∣serable life. I doo well know my Lord and Emperour, that this my bolde discouering of my selfe, hath bene too much, and beyond all reason: but if at any time thou hast loued, and doost know the great griefe that loue doth cause, thou wilt not blame me, nor put me in any fault: & I would y^t I could show thée my woūded hart, y^t in séeing it so sore afflic∣ted, thou mightst take some compassion of me, & that which doth most torment me, is, that I haue yéelded my selfe vnto one, y^t hath so little pitie on me. Who hath euer heard, y^t wo∣men shuld wooe & require of men to loue them? But I most vnfortunate Quéene, haue broken that lawe and custome. O immortal Gods, what haue you conceiued against me? Is not y^e apparant which you vsed against my sister, & now wil you vse it also w^t me. I shuld be requested of Emperours &

Kings: and now I come to request one, that maketh no ac∣count of me, neither dooth my present destruction mooue him to any pittie. Go too Emperour, make an ende and aunswere me, that therewith I may receiue either life or death.

Héere may you, which haue knowen what loue is, iudge what the Emperour Trebatio might conceiue in himselfe, in this cru∣ell case. One way he did consider the great loyaltie that he ought vnto the Empres his wife: and this constrained him to deny her. Another way, the great desire that hée had to see himselfe at libertie, and the great loue that he did know Garrofilea bare him, caused his hart somewhat to yéeld. Not∣withstanding, he did procure with faire and swéete wordes, to sée if he could cause her to chaunge her thought and pur∣pose saying,

Lady, I doo sée very well, that the force of loue is so cruell, that whosoeuer he doth wound, he leueth them in a manner without remedye, except it come from them, on whō they haue fixed their heart. I doo not deny, but that your a∣morous desire is such as he hath ordained it, who spareth no creature. But considering your highnesse and great estate, & the honour that all such as you are, shoulde haue by your royall marriages, I doo more reioyce that you suffer payne, then you should take your ease with that, vnto which sensu∣all loue doth constraine you. Most souereigne Quéene, héere I doo desire you, to bridle your affection, and restrayne your appetite, that you fall not into that infamie, which will bée the onely blemish of your estate, séeing it appertaineth so much vnto your honour.

The quéene séeing y^t his reasons did not incline vnto that which she desired, shortened his talk, & said:

Emperour, all that which thou hast sayde, and all be∣sides that thou canst tell me, I doo already vnderstand, and there is nothing that may be spoken héerein, but I haue be∣fore this time considered of it. Notwithstanding, loue hath more force, then any regard or consideration I should haue vnto my honour. Therefore I am héere come, fully deter∣mined to make a second sacrifice vnto my gods, which after∣wards shall be lamented by thée.

And in saying those words, she tooke out the sworde which she brought in secret vnder

her roabes, and with great hast she set the pommell thereof vnto the ground, and would haue throwen her self vpon the poynt thereof. The worthy Trebatio seeing her in this des∣perate minde, leapt quickly out of his bed, and with a migh∣tie courage caught holde of her, and tooke the sword out of her hand, saying: Oh blinde quéene, what diuelish determi∣nation is this? The Lady answered, Unlouing Lord••, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 other thing, but to ease my selfe by death, for that I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 not longer liue, as one dying. And saying these words, she fell in a sound in the armes of the Emperour. Heere coulde not the stoutnesse of the Greeke heart make such resistance, but that with great loue he tooke her, and cast her vppon the bed, shedding many teares with much compassion, and considering the firmnesse of the loue that the Queene hadde showed him, he was confoūded in his owne thought, and in∣forced to haue done that which hee neuer thought to haue done, and so purposed to giue her all her whole contentment: and so ioyning his mouth to hers, he remained kissing her till such time as this sorrowfull Lady came againe to her selfe. But when she perceiued she was of him so louinglye imbraced, being the thing she onely desired, she straight-way recouered all the strength that she had lost, and cast her armes about his necke with excéeding loue, which grieued not the Emperour any thing at all: & in such sort they vsed themselues, that the Queene was made Lady, with great cō∣tentment vnto them both. So with like sport they passed the rest of the night, in great ioye and pleasure. The Quéene Garrofilea when she saw that it was day, returned vnto her chamber very pleasant & merrie, vntill such time as it was her accustomed houre of 〈◊〉〈◊〉, which was somewhat early y^t day, for that the two 〈◊〉〈◊〉 made very great hast that they might enter into the Citie, the which was straight waye done. And the Quéene brought with her the Emperour, and made him to sweare to be her true prisoner, and not to de∣part from thence without her will and leaue. So the quéene tooke the Emperour by the hand, & in this order they went out of the Pallaice: The Earle of Modique when he sawe

this, could not choose, but receiue great griefe, but he did dis∣semble it, for that he considered, that in such extremitie, so valiant a Knight was néedfull, and so altogether they ente∣red into the Citie. The Quéene was very gallant and plea∣saunt, whereat all her subiects receiued great delight, and in the chiefe stréete of the Citie, there was erected the Images of two Knights, made all of stone, of a maruelous good pro∣portion, and they had ouer them a couer like a Tabernacle, very rich and well wrought, because the water shoulde not fall vpon thē, nor any other thing to hurt them. As soone as the Emperour saw those figures, he knew that the one was the Image, of his sonne without reading of the supercrip∣tion: but when he came nigh vnto it, he read the same, which sayd▪ This is the great Prince of Grecia, called the Knight of the Sunne, restorer of the auncient kingdome of Tinacria, & the abater and breaker of the strength of the most strongest Giants in all the world. And going a little farther, he sawe vpon the other Knight this title: Prince Eleno of Dacia, cousin vnto the most valiant sonnes of Trebatio, the well-spring of all our quietnesse. Upon this he looked with great affection, and earnest desire to sée his perfect personage. The Quéene did well vnderstand the great ioye that the Empe∣rour receiued, in beholding the figure of his sonne, and of his brothers sonne: for which cause she commanded that to be told publikely, which was spoken in secret: & then entred into the Quéenes pallaice, and the Emperour was carryed into a verie faire and rich lodging, whereas by force hée must be shut in, to make as if he were prisoner, for that the no∣bles of the Realme, would not consent that he shoulde goe abroade at his will. The third daie following, this braue Bramarando with all his Knights, came before the walls of the Citie, and spred abroad their Ancients: and he himselfe vpon a fierce horse, drew towards the walls of the Citie in great hast. He was armed with very strong armour, and had at his necke hanging a verie rich horne of Iuorie, and when he came to the gate of the Citie, he lifte vp the visour of his helme and set his horne vnto his mouth, & began to sound it

very strongly, to the end that the knights of the Citie shuld come thether to heare what he would say. So when y^e some of them, such as were néere at hand, approched, he sayd.

O you Knights of Tinacria, whom the souereigne Gods con∣found, that according as I am informed, by your counsell, I cannot inioy as mine owne that faire Garrofilea. What doo you, that you come not forth with your armor agaynst me? and show your selues if you be as valiant to ouercome, as politike to giue counsel.

Some of the nobles of the court, did well heare what this Pagan did say, and straight waye, they went vnto the Quéene, for to sée what was to be done in this case, to whome she aunswered.

My friends, you dooe well sée and vnderstand, how little knowledge I haue in such matters, béeing but a weake and fraile woman: in such a case as this is, vnto you it belongeth to take counsell, for that you are knights, and together you may establish that, which is conuenient, for héerin I haue little knowledge and can say almost nothing:

and with this she held her peace. These Earles, séeing that with great reason the Quéene had answered them, they would argue no farther with her, but called a counsell. At which time, the King the second time did sound his horne, to call them again to hearken vnto his speach: and being attendant vnto that which he would say, he vttered these wordes. O vile Tinacrians, what doo you, why come you not forth with your armour?

How is it, y^t you are not ashamed to hide your selues from one onely knight, which calleth you. Héere I doo promise you, that your high walls and déepe dithes which you haue about your Cittie, shall litle profit you, but y^t you shal all dye in my hands lyke vile knights. And if amongst you ther be not one that is a∣ble to make his partie good in the field with mée alone. Then come forth two, or three, or foure, or ten, for that altogether I will driue you out of the field: and if these te••ne be not sufficient, then come you all forth together such as are able to beare armour: for héere I doo sweare vnto you, to make you dye like cowards: but I take you to be such, y^t you will not put me to this trouble, but kéep your selues in your citie.

The Earles did heare all that was spoken, at which word•• they were very much grieued, but because they knewe the strength of the African, they feared much his furie, but yet shame would not suffer them to beare the force of these wordes, but did determine to goe out and take the aduaun∣tage which the Pagan did offer them. So amongst them al they chose ten of them that were most estéemed: who wer, the Earle of Modique, and a sonne of the Earles, a valyant young man, being of fewer yeares, then he which the Em∣perour slewe at the marble fountaine, and Fabiniano of He∣na, and Robio of Yscla, and other sixe chosen Knights. So when they were armed and vpon horsebacke, they opened the gate of the Citie, and they went out into the fielde, all very well horsed. So when this King of Mauritania sawe them, he let goe his horne, and putte downe the visour of his healme, & called for a great speare, which strayght waye was giuen him by a Knight of his, and with great arrogan∣cie, he went towards the place, whereas this faire companie of the ten Knights abode, and with a loude voyce he sayde that they might heare him, Who gaue you counsel to make resistaunce against my furie, for that you can finde no other thing therein but death. Then Don Rubio aunswered, none other: but onely to abate thy pride, therefore take thy choyce of the fielde, for héere I defie thée to the death. All this while Bramarando stood and beheld him with a terri∣ble looke, and séeing him vse so great nimblenesse, he thought him to be a good Knight, & giuing a tourne vnto his horse, he put himselfe into his place, and béeing both readye, they spurred their horses together, & ranne one against the other, & in the midst of their course they met, & neither of them mis∣sed their blow, in the which incounnter this gentle Rubio fell downe to the ground, and the Pagan somwhat stooped in his saddle, and his speare remained whole, and strayght waye he put himselfe in good order. But when he saw that all the rest which remained, did prepare themselues to make resistaunce, he could not refrayne but with a loude voyce, he sayde.

O vile cowards and defamers of the order of knighthood, come hether vnto me, euen all of you, for I doo no more est∣éeme of you, then of one onely Knight: and so spurring his horse, he ranne against them, and they did the like, and at one time he receiued the encounter of fiue speares, albeit he mooued nothing at all in his saddle: but he did incounter the Baron of Monflet in such sort, that the speare passing tho∣rough his body, he fell downe dead to the ground, and there with he tourned about his horse, with wonderfull lightnes, and drew out his sharpe cutting sword, and pressed amongst the rest, whereas began a meruailous and terrible battaile. Then the Knights of Tinacria perceiuing that they must either die or ouercom, they began to lay about them on eue∣ry side, with so much furie, y^t it was sufficient to haue hew∣ed an anfield in peeces. Yet for all their force, they did not séeme to molest him any whit. But he which did shew him selfe most valyant amongst them all, was the Marques of Modique his sonne, and next vnto him was the Marques of Mondeli▪ and Don Fabinio. But this strong African layd a∣bout him so valiantly, and with so great furie, that he asto∣nied thē, insomuch y^t with the great furie he had, out of the visour of his helme, proceeded a thicke smoke. At this time, he threw his shéeld on his backe, and tooke his sworde in both his hands, that whosoeuer he met, he stroke him with such terrible strength and furie, that helme and head hée cut in two parts. The Earle of Mondeli was not at this in∣stant vnoccupied, but with his sword fast in both his hands, he stroke him on the one side of his helme, which was verye fine mettall, that he made it sound like a bell, which caused him to turne vp the white of the eye, and he was almost beside himselfe. He had scarce giuen him this blowe, when likewise y^• Earle of Modique gaue him another, that made him to decline his head to his breast: wherewith Fabinio gaue him also another blowe, which bere••te him cleane of his remembrance, insomuch that his horse caried him round about the field, euen as one dead, with his armes hanging downe.

The knightes of Tinacria with greate furie did followe him, to sée if they coulde make an ende of this theyr battaile, but straight waie hée came to himselfe, and séeing how they had compassed him about, and considering into what great•• perill they had brought him, he recouered againe his sword the which hung by the wrist bande, and tourning about his horse hee roared like a wilde Bull which had bene bayted, and pressed vnto Fabinio, and stroke him so furious a blowe, that hée carryed awaie both his shéelde and healme, with a greate parte of his head, and hée fell downe dead to the earth. Then the Earle of Modique forthwith stroke the Mauritanian such a blowe on his armes, y^t both of them were wounded, but most of all the right arme, for that the force of the blow was more on that side then on the other, where∣with this furious African séeing him within his reach, with his lefte fist hee stroke him vpon the visour of his healme so greate a blowe, that without anie remembraunce hée made him to fall backwards vpon the crouper of his horse. Then the Earle stroke at him an ouerthwart blowe vppon his healme with so greate force, that hée made the sparkes of fire to flye out, the which did gréeue him verie much, and as one desperate, hée lifte vp his swoorde with greate furie to strike the Earle, who with verie much nimblenesse put him∣selfe on the one side, and caused him to loose his blowe, at the which he was verie angrie, and flourishing with his swoord hée chaunced to light vppon the wast of one of them, and cutting him in two péeces hée fell downe dead to the ground, and not resting with this, but continuing his furie, he lyfted vp his sharpe and cutting sword, and stroke another a blow vppon the left shoulder, whome he diuided downe to the gir∣dle. At this verie same time the valyaunt Rubio of Yscla was come to himselfe, and recouering his horse he leapt vp∣pon his backe with excéeding great lightnesse, and ioyned himselfe with the foure knightes which remayned of all the rest, and there he beganne with greate furie striking on the Pagan in sundrie places, and the Earle of Modique & Mon∣deli likewise did multiplie their blowes in great hast. At

the which the Pagan was so furious, that without all pati∣ence he beganne to redouble his strokes, and stroke the Earle of Mondeli vpon his healme that hee made him fall to the ground verie sore hurt, and voiding bloud out of his mouth: yet this blowe was not giuen so much at his ease, but hée must needes receiue for it foure blowes, which had almost depriued him of his wits. Heere Rubio of Yscla beganne to multiplie his blowes with so great hast, and therewithall so mightily, that he put the Pagan into great extremitie. This furious king tourned for to strike him a blowe at his plea∣sure, but the nimblenesse of this Tinacrian was such, that many times he made him to loose his blowes, at the which this Pagan was verie much amazed, but because he coulde not strike him at his will as he intended, hée determined to leaue him and to returne vnto the rest, and at two blowes he ouerthrew two knights, the one starke dead, and the other verie sore woūded, so ther remained no more but he of Modi∣que & Rubio of Ysola, & the earle, which turned again to hors∣back, so like desperate mē without hope to escape they stroke at the furious Moore, but hée seeing himselfe more at libertie, began to worke wonders vpon them, cutting them on the right hand and on the left, in this order they trauailed more then two houres, that the strength and valiauntnesse of the Moore was not sufficient to subiect them. Then this Pagan seeing such resistaunce, he firmed himselfe in his stiroppes, and lifting vp his swoorde on high, hee stroke such a blowe at him of Modique, that without anie remembrance he made him fall vppon his horse crouper, and woulde haue doubled that blowe for to haue made an ende of him, but Rubio did disturbe him, giuing him such a side blowe vppon his helme, that hee made him to loose that which hée was▪ striking, cau∣sing his swoorde to fa•••• out of his hande, that he coulde not execute it, and the Earle séeing him in that plight, straight wayes retourned another on his lefte shoulder, which grée∣ued the Pagan verie sore. In this time the Earle of Modi∣que was come againe vnto himselfe, and setteled himselfe a∣gaine in his saddle, and being firmed against the Pagan, hée

stroke him such a blowe, that glauncing he gaue him a lit∣tle wound, whereout issued bloud. The Moore féeling him∣selfe hurt, retourned against him of M••dique, but this light Rubio was with him him at a pinch, and stroke him ano∣ther blowe on his shoulder, that he made him shrinke in all his bodie, of which hee made little account, but desired onely to goe vnto him which had drawen his bloud, who lykewise with greate courage did attend his comming, hauing both his handes on his swoorde, so they discharged theyr blowes both together, which were verie mightie and strong, where∣with he of Modique, all his healme béeing bathed in bloud, fell without anie remembraunce to the ground, and the furi∣our Pagan in spite of his heart declined his head to the horse necke. Then the valiant Tinacrian quickly turned to strike him, and before that he could rayse vp himselfe againe, hee stroke him so strong a blowe, that without all remembrance he made him to stagger vpon his horse, y^t hée lacked verie little to fall to the ground. The Tinacrian séeing him in this traunce, neuer lefte striking him vntill such time as he did see that hee beganne to come againe to himselfe, and know∣ing that hes power was not sufficient to make resistaunce, hée tourned his horse head and with all hast rode towardes the Citie, in such sorte, that when the Moore was wholye come againe vnto himselfe, the Tinacrian was in safetie, wherein he did wiselie, for if he had tarryed, it coulde not haue fallen out otherwise but that hée must needes haue dy∣ed by the handes of the cruell Pagan. Then the Morisco king séeing all the field cléere and without trouble, hée felte himselfe to bée verie sore vexed with the spéedie blowes which the Tinacrians had bestowed vpon him, and comman∣ded to carrie those knightes which were aliue from the rest, vnto the tent whereas hée should 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and he likewise went to take his rest and ease, for that it was verie necessarie & néed∣full, and was quickly cured of that small wound which he re∣ceiued. And as for them of Tinacria, he willed y^t they should pronounce their healths with many remedies, & intreat them honourablye, for that he knewe verie well what they were,

Rubio when he came into the Citie, without anye tarrying went vnto the Pallaice to declare vnto the quéene her vn∣happie successe. The quéene with great seueritie, not show∣ing anie sorrowfull countenaunce, aunswered, that he should goe and take his rest, and cure his wounds, saying, that shée had such confidence in her Gods, that they would remedie all these euills, and without anie more tarrying, she arose from the place whereas she was set, and went vnto the Emperors chamber, & told vnto him all that had passed, & of that which happened, in the next chapter▪ I will declare.

¶How the Emperour went into the fielde with the Pagan, and of all that happened in the battaile betweene them. Chap. 22.

WHen the quéene came where the Emperour was, she tolde him all that had happened in the battaile, as I haue before sayde, of the which the Emperour receiued no griefe, but rather he was verie well content therewith, yet not shewing anie signe thereof vnto the Quéene, he sayde. Ladie, take no griefe at this which is past and gone, for that God will vndoubtedly prouide that which shall bée requisite for thy defence. Commaund that I may be prouided of verie good and strong armour, for that I haue so great a confidence in my God to abate the great pride of this Pagan. This shall be done with a verie good will aun∣swered the Quéene, for I will giue thée such that no strength shall bée able to pearce it, the which did belong vnto the king my Father, and straight wayes at the houre appointed, shée commaunded them to be brought, the which were of the cou∣lour of a verie fine Rubie, all to be spangled with verie de∣licate and glistering stars of gold, and all the grauings were garnished with rich orientall pearles, wrought with greate subtiltie. The shéeld was of the same coulour, and the fielde therof was a mightie great starre which couered all y^e whole shield, they were such that no Prince or Lord euer had y^• like.

The Emperour when he saw them he would straight of his owne good will haue armed himselfe and haue gone out into the field, but the queene would not consent vnto it, but they passed that night together with great ioy and pleasure, which was so much, that I dare not héere with my pen declare it, but of this I am sure, that when the Quéene departed from the Emperour she remained with child, as héereafter you shal heare. So▪ when the morning was come, the Emperour arose vp with great desire to goe out to the battaile, and straight waies there were called certaine knights onely for to arme him with those rich armes, and the faire Quéene Garrofilea did helpe to arme him, and when he was armed he went out of the pallaice, and at the foote of the stayres he found a very faire and strong horse, who was verie richly barbed and wel shodde, and calling for a horne he hung it about his neck, and tooke his leaue of the Quéene, and so without putting his foot into the stiroppe he leaped vpon this mightie horse, and then béeing accompanied with a companie of noble Knightes, he went out of the Citie, not without great griefe vnto them all, which pra••ed earnestly for his returne. And when he was in the field wheras he might be heard, he lifted vp the visour of his helme and set the horne vnto his mouth, and began to make a fearefull sound, and after that he hadde done with a high voyce he sayd. Thou fierce Pagan that with so greate ••ase lyest in thy bedde, and boastest thy selfe that there is none in the world that can bring downe thy proud stomack, take vnto thée thy armour, and doo thy best to driue mée out of the fielde, for I doubt not but before thou doe it, thou shalt finde in me some resistance: and with this he held his peace. This stout Pagan which at that time was at his rest, was sore troubled, and could not imagine who that knight might be, which was so arrogant, that he durst alone call him into the fielde, and desiring to knowe what he was that was so hardie, he caused to bée brought before him the Earle of Mondeli, & the Earles sonne of Modique, and with an irefull voice said. Did you heare with what great pride that knight hath spoken and challenged me. The Earles answered, yea,

then he sayde: Who haue you in Tinacria that is so hardie to call me to battaile with such vpprobious wordes, I can∣not beléeue that he is of this kingdome, but if hee bée, it see∣meth he should be some vaineglorious foole and one of little vnderstanding. The Earle of Modique aunswered, I dooe sweare vnto thée O king by the souereigne Gods that I am in the same doubt: but it may be that it is a knight which a fewe daies past béeing verie ill intreated by the tempests of the sea, was driuen into this Ilande, and béeing without ar∣mour he made such a battaile with certaine knights, & with so great furie and strength, that béeing as I haue sayd, with∣out armour, he did meruailous and heroy••all feats of armes, where he slew many knights, and amongst them he slewe a brother which I had, and it may be, that the Quéene béeing desirous of his libertie, hath giuen this enterprise vnto him, and therefore I thinke that this is he that hath spoken these arrogant wordes. Well, let it be who it shall be, replied the king, for héere I doe sweare vnto thée by Mahomet that I will make him déerely to paie this his follie and hardinesse, and speaking this, he heard him sound his horne againe with much more furie then at the first, and sayd.

O vile Pagan coward and of an euill nation, thou king of little estimation, what makest thou? wherfore doest thou tar∣rie? why commest thou not out to take reuengement of these my wordes? dispatch and come forth, or else vnderstand that I will come and séeke thée in what place so euer thou abi∣dest: Oh mightie and vnmercifull wrath, how is it that thou hast so much power ouer this proude African, who with a hoarse voice and terrible wordes called for his armour, and because it was not brought him straight waie, he did intreat them all very ill which were nigh him, so y^t there was not one of all his knights but at y^• time would haue ben glad to haue ben far from y^e place where the king was: when he was armed he leaped vpon his horse, & with a reasonable pace hée pricked towards the place whereas the Emperour abode, who when he saw him come he threw his horne from him, and let fall the visour of his healme, and tooke a greate

Speare in his hande, wherewith he flourished meruailous strongly about his head. This Mauritanian was so inflamed with wrath, that he had no minde to shew anie agilitie with his Speare, but rather with a wrathfull voice hée sayde: I doo beleeue that with the flourishing of thy Speare & braue∣nesse of thy horse thou thinkest to scarre me, hauing spoken words that could not be vttered but by some foolish man, or by some knight of little estimation, or by some one that is enimie vnto Mahomet. The Emperour answered: so much thou maist saie, that thou maist happen vppon the truth, and héere I giue thée to vnderstand, that I am a Christian and seruaunt vnto my Lorde Iesu Christ, and enimie vnto Ma∣homet, and much more vnto thée, therfore make thy selfe rea∣die to the battaile, and take that part of the field which plea∣seth thée, & I will make thée to knowe what my Speare can dooe. The furie of the Pagan was such, that he was almost without all féeling, yet he comforted himselfe in thinking to make reuengement of the wordes which he had sayde, and had a greate desire to knowe who that knight was which with so greate hardinesse and courage did speake vnto him, and hée asked it of him, saying: Knight, héere I doo giue thée lisence to speake all that thou wilt, for that thou art now in place where none can deliuer thee from my hands but onely Mahomet, neuerthelesse I doo desire thée by that God in whō thou sayst thou dooest beleeue, and that so truely & vehement∣ly thou dooest serue, that thou tell me who thou art, whereby I may know what he was that hath ben so arrogant against me. Thou hast so coniured me (aunswered the Emperour) that I cannot let but tell thée. Thou shalt therefore vnder∣stand y^t I am the Emperour Trebatio of Greece, father vnto those clére lights of al knighthood, the knight of y^e Sun, & that valiant Rosicleer, which by another name is called y^e knight of Cupide, if at anie time thou hast heard anie talke of them. When the Pagan heard that it was he, whose fame was so much spoken of in all the world, and no lesse feared, with∣out anie more tarrying, he defied him to mortall battayle▪ and without anie more wordes they tourned theyr horses,

and not sta••eng for the sound of trumpets; they pricked them with their spurs, and with great violence in the midst of their course, they brake their speares so easelye, as though they had bene made of Canes, and neither of them receiued any harme, nor once mooued out of the saddles, and turning their horses about, they layd hand on their swords. The Em∣perour of Greece did first strike the Pagan king, so terrible a blowe, that he threw downe to the gound a very rich mir∣rour which was vpon the crest of his helme, hauing in it, the Image of Mahomet, and it was with such strength, that it made his téeth chatter in his head. At this blowe the pa∣gan did not meruaile, but rather gratified his courtesie in the lyke sort, but the Emperour did beare it off with his shéelde, and it cut off one corner thereof, and descended vpon his helme, with such force, that it made him boow his head. At the which this auncient warriour, tooke so great anger & and wrath that throwing his shield to the ground, he tooke his sword in both his hands, and stroke such a blowe at his aduersarie, that if it had not bene that he did defend it verye well with his shield, with that one blow he had finished the the battaile: but yet his shield was cut in two péeces, and the blowe glaunced from his shoulder downwards, & ligh∣ted vpon the Pagans knée, whereas it made a wound, for that the bloud gaue testimonie thereof. This fierce Moore, when he saw his owne bloud, with great furie he threw frō him the rest of the shield that did remaine in his hand, and stroke such a cruell blow at this heroycall Emperour vpon his helme, that it gaue a great and meruailous sound tho∣rough all the plaines and fields. The ••urmounted furie wher with this terrible blowe was discharged, was the occasi∣on, that he without any féeling fell downe vppon the horse necke with all his body. When the pagan sawe him in this case, he procured to giue him another blowe, but by reason of the Emperours stooping, he pricked his horse with his spurs, and with a little remembraunce he helde himselfe fast for not falling. His horse with great lightnesse lept on the one side, whereby this valiant. Trebatio was cleare of that

blowe. And when he saw himselfe so euill intreated by that Pagan, he recouered again his sword, and clasping it fast in his fist, he discharged vpon the Moore so strong and terrible a blowe, that he made him without all remembraunce to fall backwards vpon the horse crupper, and ther issued out of his helme very much bloud, which proceeded out of his mouth and nose, and séeing him in this traunce, he sayd, I sweare by God, King, that thou hast small remembraunce, but tarrye a little, and I will make thée remember thy selfe better, and giuing a turne vnto his horse, thinking to cut off the pagans head, his tourning was with such great hast, that his horse doubled in such sort, that he fell to the ground with the Em∣perour on his backe, neuerthelesse with great lightnes, with out putting his foote into the stirrop, he lept into the saddle again. But yet it could not be so quickly done, but that this strong Mauritanian was come to himselfe, and séeing that he was all be bathed in bloud, he knew y^t he had bene in great perill. Then with wonderfull courage he recouered his sword, and settled himselfe in his saddle, and with furious blowes he began to strike, so that at euery blowe, it séemed his strength did still increase, which indéede was true: for the more his wrath and yre kindeled, the more his fiercenes and strength increased, in such sort, that euery blowe which he stroke, was almost sufficient to ouerthrowe a great To∣wer. All these feates the Quéene did beholde from a tower which was in the Pallaice, greatly fearing the successe of this terrible battaile, and praying with all her heart vnto her Gods for the Emperours victorie. This furious Pa∣gan was halfe ashamed, for 〈◊〉〈◊〉 he could not bring the Em∣perour into subiection, although his terrible blowes didde double increase, and séeing he could not, he begun to exclaim against his Gods and sayd. Oh Mahomet, where is nowe all thy power and strength? how is it that thou dost consent that one onely Christian should make so great defence, & in∣dure so long. The Emperour which heard all that y^e Moore had sayd, with a wrathfull and angry voyce, aunswered. O thou wretched infidell, how greatly art thou deceiued, in

thinking, that he which hath no power to help himselfe, can helpe thée and deliuer thée out of my hands. I beleeue with the assistaunce of my God, before that night doo come, to heaw thée all in péeces by the strength of my armes, and héer∣with he neuer ceased to strike him with so much furie, that many times he was without any féeling. Thus they conti∣nued foure houres without any resting of themselues, but wounding one another. When this furious pagan saw, that he could not bring to passe his pretence, but that he was in great perill to be ouercome, he stroke such a blowe at the Emperour, that with the mightie strength wherewith it was stroken, he made him to loose his remembraunce, and forced him to stoope vnto the horse necke, and after that, he stroke his second blow vpon his backe, that the great noyse that it made, was the occasion that the Emperour came a∣gaine to himsel••e. And he was not scarce setteled in his sad∣dle, when he lifte vp his sword, intending to strike the Moore a mightie and terrible blow: the which when this Africane beheld, & knew the great strength wherewith it came, with meruailous pollicie he put it aside, and made him to loose his blowe, & at the same time flourishing with his sword, he discharged such an ouerthwart blowe vpon his throte, that if the harnesse had not bene forged by Magical art, the Em∣perour had bene in great perill. Oh what great anger and furie did this mightie Trebatio féele, to sée himselfe so ill in∣treated by that furious Moore, and therewith he raised him∣selfe vp in his stirrops, and strake at him in such great hast, and with so great strength, that it seemed that then the bat∣taile was but new begun. But when this Mauritanian saw that the Emperour had not lost any of his strength, but ra∣ther that it was more increased, with a terrible and fearfull voyce he said.

O Mahomet, what is this? for that I sée, that if all the strength of Mars were héere together, it were not suffi∣cient to make resistaunce against this Knight: and in say∣ing these wordes, he did procure to offende his aduersarye, with terrible and furious blowes.

Amongst them all, this Mauritanian chaunced one vpon the Emperors helme, that he made him to gnash his téeth, wher with, without any remembraunce, he fell vpon y^e horse cr••p∣per: in such sort, that the horse being scarred with the blow began to runne, and carried the Emperour in that traunce, a good while about the field. The Moore had well thought at that time that he had finished his work, & with great shouts & shriks he followed him, but all his thought was in vaine. For y^• the Emperour recouered & setled himselfe in his sad∣dell, and when he saw himselfe so ill intreated, ther was ne∣uer Tiger of Hircania, nor any other wilde beast so furious as he was at this time, with his great anger. Yea, he was so vexed with himselfe, that with the madnesse thereof, hée crushed his téeth together, and tourning his horse about a great deale lighter, then at any other time, he firmed well his swoorde in his hand, and lifting vp his mightie & strong arme, went whereas this Morisco king was, who in y^e like sorte came towards him, at that time the Emperour neither remembred life nor death, nor anie other thing, but to take reuengment on his enimie, procuring to bring him to cruell death, and raising himselfe vp a good spanne in his saddle, be∣ing firmed in his stirrops, he strake such a blowe, that at the fall of his mightie cutting sworde, the sparkles of fire flew into the aire, and it lighted on the Pagans healme, so that all the strength thereof did little profite him••, but hée cut his head and all downe to his stomacke, that this Pagan fell dead to the ground, the which béeing séene by his knights they gaue a meruailous and lamentable shout and crie, and without vsing anie more curtesie, they altogether put theyr Speares in their rests, and went against this strong warri∣riour, all on horse backe, but héere the mirrour of all knight∣hood did abide their comming with his accustomed courage, & hart? al these Moores made their encounter on him together, & many of them brake their speares, but for all that he mooued no more then if they had runne against a tower. The Em∣perour séeing their vilianie, begun to reuile them w^t shame∣full words, and retourning towards them, he made them to

runne awaie like vile cowards. Unhappie was he that hée stroke, although it were but with halfe a blowe, for it made him that he had smal minde to returne againe, but by reason that they were verie sorrowfull and angrie for the losse of their king, many of them did strike at him on euerie side, pro∣curing to defend themselues, and not to come nigh his terri∣ble blowes. The Emperour then remembring that if he did not procure to come whereas the prisoners were to set them at libertie, that it wer possible that they would intreat them euill. Wherfore he put himselfe among the thickest of his eni∣mies, wounding and killing all that he found in his waye, and all that he could ouertake, although his armour were as hard as Diamonds, yet he could not escape from the death, so in this sort in spite of all the Pagans he came vnto y^e kings tent, and séeing that there ioyned together much people to make resistaunce at the entering, it gaue him the more desire to enter into the tent, not knowing that the Tinacrians were there prisoners. The Mauritanians with all their powers they had made resistaunce, but their strength did little auaile them, for in spite of them all the Emperour went into the Tent, whereas he met with the Earle of Modique, and the Earle of Mondeli, who were put there in prison. At this pre∣sent time Don Rubio of Tinacria when he sawe that the Moore of Africa was ouercome, and the great villanie of his knights, he made great hast to goe out of the Citie, and with eight hundred knights, all verie well armed, they pressed on their enimies with so great force, that they made them looke better about them, then before that time they did. When the Emperour sawe the diligence of this knight Rubio, he pro∣cured to set the prisoners at libertie, the which thing béeing done, he sayde vnto the Earles sonne of Modique. Gentle knight, this succour doo you receiue and your honourable fa∣ther, in recompence of the great griefe which I caused you to receiue, and without speaking anie more words he returned vnto the battaile which was verie much increased, but when he came amongst them it was quickly brought to an end, for by reason that they had no gouernour to gouerne them, and

that the furie of y^e Gréeke was not to be suffered, they durst not abide, but with great shame they began to runne away, Then those of Tinacria did follow them till they came to the sea side, killing and wounding all that euer they coulde come by. So when the Emperour saw that all this conflict was brought to a good end, and that the valiant Rubio was by him, he called him vnto him and sayd. My friend, go and tell your Mistres the Quéene, that I request her to pardon me, for that I doo not retourne againe into her Citie, for I was so ill receiued the first time, that I haue no will to re∣tourne the second. And more, I desire her of my part, that she doo intreate better, and giue better intertainment vnto such Knights as I am, then she gaue vnto me, least she get vnto her selfe the name of a wrathfull Quéene, and be accounted as one subiect vnto hir own opinion: & of all other things, if any thing doo chaunce, let her thanke none but her selfe, for that she hath bene the onely cause therof. And moreouer, I doo desire her not to trouble her selfe in sending to séeke me, for that I say, not her power alone, but all the power in A∣frica is not sufficient to retourne me againe into so great straights, as once she had me in. And so without any more speaking he spurred his horse, and rode a reasonable pace to∣wards the sea side, which was not farre from that place, and when he came thether, he sought to sée if he could finde by chance any barke or galley, to carry him whether he wold, with his good will or els by force. He had not gone farre, when that he sawe a very faire and great barke at the sea side, hard aboord the shoare. The Emperour entered into it to sée if there were anye marriners: his horse which was hard by him, without being constrained by the Emperour, very lightly leapt into the Barke. He was not so soone with in, when that the Barke began to make waye, in such sorte, that in a small time they were very farre at sea. At y^• which the Emperour was greatly amazed: but there was a voice, which did satisfie him, that sayd: Mightie Trebatio, Lyr∣gandeo doth gouerne thee: at the which the Emperour was very ioyfull.

So he put his horse in a place by himselfe in the bark, wher∣as he found sufficient of all things néedefull. Likewise hée found all that was conuenient for his owne person, which was ready vpon a table in very good order, all kinde of dres∣sed meates: and béeing set downe to eate, he was serued so bountifully, and with so great diligence and care, as though he had bene in Greece. In this sort the emperour went sai∣ling eight dayes, in y^e end of which he discouered land, which had belonging vnto it, a faire hauen or port, and nigh vnto it, a very faire and great Citie. The Barke went straight into the hauen, and brought her selfe to the shore.

Héere we will leaue y^e Emperour in his barke in y^e hauen, and will tell you of the great lamentation y^t the faire Gar∣rofilea made for that the Emperour departed in such sort.

¶How the faire Queene Garrofilea made great la∣mentation for the departure of the Emperour, and how at their last being together, she remained with childe by the Emperour Trebatio, Cap. 23.

AFter that all the Knights of Tinacria ha•• ioyned themselues together, and had made an ende of their battaile and trauaile, they repaired vnto the citie with great ioy and gladnesse for their good successe. Rubio of Yscla went to declare vnto the Quéene his message y^t the Emperor had commanded him: at y^• which, the Quéene was so troubled, that she could not in any wise dis∣semble it, but in a great sound strayght way she fell downe as though she had bene dead. This couragious knight when he saw her in this trance, tooke her vp in his armes, & cary∣ed her vnto her Strado, or seate: & straight waies when the Ladies heard the noyse, they all came forth to sée what the matter was, & when they saw their Quéene in that traunce, they began to vse all meanes and remedies till such time as she came again vnto her remembrance. And although it was

with great trouble the quéene lifted vp her ••yes, & séeing that she was co••••••assed about with Ladies and others, shee shut her eyes againe, and gaue a great sigh which came from the bottome of her heart, and in this sort she remained a greate while, and her Ladies and Damosells▪ seeing that she was so troubled, determined to vncloath her and to carrie her to her bed. Then she made signes with her hands that they should depart and leaue her all alone, whose commandement they straight wayes obeyed, not without great sorrow of all them that did beholde her, for that the quéene was meruailouslye well beloued of her subiects. There was not one that could vnderstand the cause of this sodaine euill, but onely the earle of Modique, who discréetly did imagine what it might bée, who kept it close to himselfe at time, vntil such time as time & the matter it selfe shuld declare, whether his imagination or thought should fall out true or no. This afflicted quéene when she saw that she was alone, began to exclaime against her fortune, putting forth these sorrowfull reasons.

When wilt thou be content thou peruerse enimie, and without all reason. Thou which hast warped such strange webbes in this Kingdome. Thou gauest me into my power the Gréeke Emperour very poore, and without all comfort of thée, and absent from all his Empire. This thou didst, for that with his sight I should be wounded with the cruell dart of loue, that without all remedie of anie comfort, I most vnfortu∣nate damosell shoulde be constrained to set my life to sale, and to sell my honour as it were with the common cryar, compelling me to doo vnto my selfe that, which I onely did, being made blinde by him, which would y^t all others were as blind as he himselfe is And although me life were set at libertie, by him which without anie weapon bereaued me thereof, yet am I not at so much libertie nor so fr••e, but that wheresoeuer he goeth my heart doth followe him. Woe is me for my virginitie (which my parents gaue me such great charge to haue a respect vnto) that it hath bene so euill kept, and so lightly regarded me. I will so chastise my selfe for thus forgetting of my selfe, and be so reuenged for the little

regard that I haue had of my honour, that it shall be an ex∣ample to all others which be of high estate: Oh miserable Quéene, Oh vnhappie Lady, thy spéech is too too foolish: for al∣though this thy desperate hand should pull out the despised heart of this miserable and afflicted bodie, yet shouldest not thou make satisfaction of the dishonour which thou hast com∣mitted against thy selfe: Oh cruell death why doest thou not with thy sodaine furie set at libertie (me most vnfortu∣nate) from these gréeuous paines: Oh Emperour of Greece, those louing and amorous wordes which thou spakest vnto me, I would they had neuer ben spoken: O false and decei∣uing Lorde, thou shouldest haue suffered me to haue tasted death, when with so great good will mine owne hand would haue ministred it to me, and not now to cause me to indure a thousand deaths, only by thy departure.

With these & other like lamentations this afflicted Ladie passed awaie the time, till at last she found her selfe to be quicke with childe, at the which she receyued double paine, for that it was impossible to couer or hide it, & séeing her selfe in this ca••e▪ like a womā hated & abhorred, she determined to discouer her selfe vnto her subiects publikely; and to deliuer her bodie vnto them to sacrifice it vnto their Gods, and with this determination one daie she caused certaine of the nobles to be called before her, who straight way came at her commaundement. Amongest the rest there came the Earle of Modique and his sonne, and the Earle of Mondeli, & the valiant Rubio, and many other knights and Gentlemen of honour, when that the Quéene sawe them altogether about her, couering her selfe with a rich roabe, shée sate vp in her bedde, beeing so leane, that all them that saw her had great compassion, béeing all set round about the bed, and kéeping silence, she sayd.

Our Gods would make vs so s••biect vnto time, that onely they doe not bring vs vnder their malitious yoake, but also altogether submit vs vnder their hands, to the end that they may liberally dooe whatsoeuer it pleaseth them, and as their mallice is more then their vertue, hauing vs so yeelded at their commaunde∣ment, they dooe intreate vs lyke vnto publike slaues. And

so much honour is obteyned by him which is altogether vn∣fortunate, as may be gotten by anie kinde of worthinesse. Oh what base and vile things doe they cause them to doe whom they get vnder theyr winges, if it were lawfull for me to speake it I might tell you many examples of them of the olde time, where as fortune vsing her accustomed déedes, did get vnto her self many and diuers names according vnto her strange effects. Some called her Fortune, venture, or chance, some honoured her as a Goddesse for her liberalitie, others despised her as a ••iuell for her mutabilitie: But what shall I say to you of her (my good friends) for that I cannot tell by what tearmes to name my selfe, neither dooe I knowe whe∣ther she were the beginning of all my euill, or that blinde Cupide, who hath so cruelly handled me: well, which of them so euer it was, they caused me to put my heart into the po∣wer of another, onely for the remedie of this my Countrie, for whose weale (alasse) I haue lost the libertie of my heart, with all my wonted ioy, and now indure perpetuall paine, and an euer pining death: I haue lost my honour and reco∣uered shame and infamie. To conclude, I haue lost the liber∣tie of a Quéene, and remaine in continuall captiuitie, and yet of all this, I my selfe am onely in fault. Therefore without making anie excuse, héere I doo surrender my selfe into your powers, for that you may as an euill Quéene dooe sacrifice with mée, as also that which I haue in my womb. For now my friends you shall vnderstand that the knight who with his mightie & strong arme slew Bramarando, was the Em∣perour Trebatio, father vnto him whome you nowe honour as a God. This is hée that robbed me of my honor, but with my good will (I must confesse) and left me for a testimonie of this my euill déede, bigge with child.

And with this she made an ende of her lamentable spéech, and without anie more strength to sit vp shée fell downe againe in her bedde. So when these Earles and noble knightes that were present vnderstoode all that the Quéene had sayde vnto them, they were all of them greatly amazed and chaunged theyr cou∣lours, looking one vpon another without speaking any word,

but printing in their heartes the fault done by their quéene, yet not without consideration that there remained fruite of that surmounted trée, euen that Grecian, which gaue vnto them great ioye and mirth, in such sorte, that this worthie fame had in them more force then the blot that their quéene and Ladie had receiued in her honour. And with this 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Earle of Modique rose vp, and aunswered for all that were present, saying.

Souereigne Ladie, there is not one of vs that canno denie but that there was a fault, and that you are worthie of blame for committing this fact, not respecting your royall estate, for the which we cannot but receiue great griefe in our heartes, neither canne we denie, but that in re∣seruing the fruit of him which hath béene the occasion of this dishonour, will bring vnto vs a perticular ioye, and cause great contentment vnto all your subiectes, so that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 shall easily forget the losse of your honour and honourable virgi∣nitie: Therefore waying equally the fault with the profit which shall redound vnto all Tinacria, in recouering such a successour, we doe finde that thou art worthie of no paine, therfore souereigne Ladie looke not vpon the errour, for that ••erily it was so ordained by the Gods, that at that instaunt and without looking for this Gréeke Emperour came for the defence of our kingdome, and for thy restoring, and hath left vs this good successour which we hope shall bee deliuered out of thy wombe, who shall be a defender of these thy King∣domes, and a maintainer of vs thy subiectes. And héere we do desire thée to put awaie all these imaginations & griefes from thy heart, and to forget it, and renue thy former ioye and pleasure, in making sacrifices vnto the Gods, that they may giue strength to thy person, whereby thou mayst haue good deliueraunce of that which thou goest with, which vnto vs will bée most acceptable.

Great was the ioye which the Quéene receiued at these comfortable wordes which her sub∣iectes hadde spoken, and giuing them greate thankes shée requested them to departe til•• such time as shée shoulde be brought a bedde. So the time béeing néere approched, she was deliuered of a verie fayre ••onne, and lykewise of

a daughter of a wonderfull beautie, for the which there was made great ioy throughout all the kingdome, & they called the sonnes name Polifebo, and the other young infant Rosal∣••ira. The great beautie and fairenesse that was in these two infants, was such, that in all the kingdome they esteemed thē for diuine creatures, they were nourished and brought vp with great care and honour: but for all this, the Quéene con∣ceiued in her heart a meruailous hatred against the Empe∣rour, and many times she would goe vp into a towre which was towards the sea, to sée if that shée looking towardes the parts of Grecia, might receiue anie comfort or take any ple∣sure, but al was in vaine, for the greatest pleasure & comfort y^t she receiued was, to see these infants to be children vnto such a Father, and indowed with such surpassing beautie, & some∣times she would sit and talke to them, saying: Oh figures of him, who without all pittie wounded my heart, & left me cō∣fortlesse with the greatest crueltie that euer woman was left withall by anie knight or Gentleman: how is it possible y^• I haue the force to bring vp children of that Father, who hath bereaued me of my libertie: Oh souereigne Gods, that with your powers haue sowed in this vnhappie land, the of∣spring of that vnmercifull Trebatio, graunt that I may esta∣blish in my heart so much anger, that it may cause me to put from me the loue of that adulterous father: Oh children born for a farther griefe, héere I doo desire the mightie Gods that your beautie may haue so much force & power, that with the beames thereof you may take reuengement of the dishonour of your mother, & thou my daughter borne in the dishonor of thy generation, by the losse of my virginitie, ••éere I doo swere vnto y^e celestial Iupiter, y^t thy beautie shal not be inioyed by any, but by him y^t shal giue thée in dowry the head of thy dis∣loyal father, y^• by it I may recouer part of my former glorie. These & other like wordes spake this afflicted quéene, & euen as she had sworne she put in practise, publishing it through al her kingdome, & giuing information of the effect of her pre∣tēded purpose, & sent messēgers into Africa & Asia cōcerning y^• same, all which she did contrarie to the will of her subiects.

And because that they saw her so feruent in her anger, wher∣to she was more prone, by desire of reue••gement, then vn∣to anie reason, they did all determine to content themselues, and sh••e for to, giue a better courage vnto them which knew her, and vnto all such as woulde prosecute this enterprise, shée gaue diuerse deuises, so that they which did presume heerein were not fewe in number, but verie many and right valiaunt knightes, as héereafter I will declare vnto you. So some there▪ were which did offer themselues for the faire∣nesse of the mother, before that her daughters beautie shoulde come to anie perfectnesse, and other some for the loue of the daughter, of which there were verie manie that lost theyr honours in Grecia, and sundrie lost theyr liues, and he which first did offer himselfe in this enterprise was the king of the Garamantes, who by hearing reporte of her greate beautie, was in loue with her. And when he heard the message which was brought from the quéene by her Embassadours, straight waie without giuing the quéene to vnderstand thereof, hée went into Grecia, trusting onely in his greate strength, of whom when time serueth wée will speake. And so it ••ell out, that neither time nor anie other thing was sufficient to remooue from the Quéene this greate desire shée had to seeke reuengement, but euerie daie her anger did more increase, neither was the beautie of his children of so much force, as to mollifie the furie of her stomacke, although when they were at sixe yeares of age, they were of so excellent beautie, that the Tinacrians beléeued that they were the children of some of the Gods, and not of anie humane creature, their bo∣dies and their beauties were so conformable, for all they which did sée the young Prince, would haue iudged him to haue double the yeares that he had, and in his body and face he did so much resemble his brother the knight of the Son, that it was a thing to be meruailed at. Of the young princesse Lyrgandeo would not make anie description, for that he said, that whatsoeuer thing shoulde be spoken of her, his pen were not sufficient to vtter the worthinesse of her beautie, so this quéene was euer firme in this her thought, & for to giue them

better to vnderstand, she commaunded to renue the signes & tokens, and more, that they should carrie her picture into all parts, the which was the occasion that the court of y^e quéene of Tinacria was meruailously increased in honour, with so many Princes and knights which repaired thether to sée this Damsell. When the queene sawe that her kingdome was so honourably nobled more then at other times, she commaun∣ded that vpon the gates of her royall pallace should be placed a title, which was conteined in these words following.

Attempt not anie either Prince or king, Within Tinacria Court his loue to shew: Except that he doo first in dowrie bring Trebatios head, our most detested foe. The faithlesse father of this Damsell braue, That restlesse griefe to me her mother gaue.

And when all this was finished, she straight way dispatch∣ed a messenger to Grecia, with a letter vnto the Emperour, the which she sent by a damsel that was verie trustie & one y^t she loued well, whereas now I will leaue them till time doo serue for to tell you of the knight of the Sun. But first for y^t it is necessarie to this our historie, we will declare what Bru∣faldoro said, when he knew of the death of Bramarando his brother, king of Mauritania, who béeing certified by them y^• escaped aliue out of the hands of the Tinacrians, and wer ve∣rie sorrowful for the losse of their Lord and king, and landing in their owne countrie they went and carried the newes vn∣to Brufaldoro, the which when he heard, he felt in himselfe so great paine & sorrow, that in a sound he leaned himself vn∣to a chaire because he would not fall, he was so farre beside himselfe, in which trance he did not long indure, but came a∣gaine to his remembraunce, and wish a terrible and feare∣full voice he sayde: Is it of truth that my brother is dead, and the messengers aunswered and sayde, that it was too true. Oh traitours, aunswered this fierce young man, how durst you come before me, except first you had taken re∣uengement

of his death. Then they aunswered and sayd. He y^• did kill him, is not a man so soone to take reuengement of, for that after that we were cléere of his diuellish furie, it was tolde vs that he was a christian and the Emperour of Grecia, called Trebatio. Oh vile people, aunswered the Pa∣gan, yet will you replie against my words, get you out of my sight, if it were not but that I am letted for lacke of the or∣der of knighthood, I would with my owne handes teare you all to péeces. Oh false Mahomet, thou lyar, periured, & with∣out all faith, is this the honour that my brother should haue out of Tinacria: to be abated and slaine by one alone christi∣an, and in saying these wordes he entered into a chamber, where he had the Image of Mahomet all of golde, with twelue Angells on both sides, this youth tooke a heauie club and with both his handes he stroke this poore God such a blowe vpon the head, that he made him to fal to the ground, and not resting with this, he tourned against them that bare him companie, & stroke on them so many blowes, that in a thousand péeces he made them fall to the ground, and sayde. O thou false traitour, heere wil I giue thée thy paiment and reward for that which thou hast done vnto my beloued bro∣ther. Héere I doo forsake and denie thée, and all them that do beléeue in thée, for that I wil neither beléeue in thée nor serue thee, but if I did knowe the waie vnto the place, where as the diuell hath thée, I woulde goe and séeke thée, to giue thée to vnderstand that my furie is more then thy power. And when he had concluded with this, he went foorth of the cham∣ber, and with a terrible noise he called for his armour, the which was straight waie brought vnto him, and without tarrying to bée made knight, he commaunded to arme him, with armour that was all white, & made by art Magick, thē he commanded a ship to be made readie & furnished, & entred into it, with intent to go to Grecia, and there to aske the or∣der of knighthoode of the Emperour, & when he had receiued it, to defie him to mortall battaile, but it chaunced not vnto him as he thought it would, for y^e the sea with some of his accustomed torments carried him vnto the coast of France, &

by reason of his small patience, once béeing a land, he would not retourne to imbarke himselfe in his ship, but remained with onely two lackeyes, and commaunded the vessell to re∣turne backe againe, and so went traueling whether his for∣tune would carrie him two dayes. The third day very ear∣ly in the morning, he heard a great rushing of armour a∣mongst a company of trées, & going towards the same noise, he saw a Knight of a very good proportion agaynst a great•• number of other Knights, in a very fierce and vnreasonable battaile. And for to tell you who it was, it is requisite, that we begin another chapter, in the which I will declare the whole matter vnto you.

¶How that the Knight of the Sunne would haue tar∣ried for Tefereo, in the place whereas he appoin∣ted him, and how he lost himselfe in a thick moun∣taine, and of all that happened vnto him after that. Cap. 24.

THe knight of the Sunne who was purposed to tarrie for Tefereo, whereas he appointed him, put himselfe into the wildernes of Ar∣denia, with a reasonable quicke pace: but be∣cause of the great thicknesse of trées & bush∣es, being amongst them: and againe, trou∣bled with thoughts, wherewith his minde was occupied, hée lost his way, and in such sorte, that although he tourned his horse euery way from one place to another, yet could he not finde any way, but rather did so intangle himself, that when the night came, he found himselfe so far from the place wher as he thought to haue remained, that he was in doubt to re∣couer his waye and his company he knewe not when: for the which he receiued great griefe, which was the occasion that he died very euill words against himselfe. So beeing in this cholar, the night drew on, which constrayned him to a∣light from his horse, and sate him downe vnder a greene tree, hauing set his horse to feede in the gréene grasse, of the

which there was abundaunce at hande, and so in the best wise he could, he laid him downe vpon the ground to take some rest for a while: and towards his right hand he hard a great noyse of the running of water, and being very drye, he was constrayned to arise againe. And so he went féeling & following that pittering sound of water, vntill such time as he found a little fountaine of very faire and cléere water, and by reason of the great drought that he had, without a∣ny more tarrying, he knéeled downe to drinke thereof, till such time as he had mitigated his great thirst, and remay∣ned there a while to refresh himselfe, for that the place was very pleasaunt: so after a while, he returned vnto the place whereas he was before, and layd himselfe downe to rest. He had not remained there long, but he felt the water to begin to worke in him: For you shall vnderstand, that this was one of the fountaines of Marlin, which he made in that wil∣dernesse, and brought the water, from the high mountayne of Olympo. But this fountaine whereof the Knight of the Sunne did drinke, was that of Disamore, or without loue. In such sort it did worke in him, that he did not onely loose and forget the loue which he had to Lindabrides, but also, if it had not bene for the great force of matrimonye, and for the pawne that he receiued of Claridiana, he hadde likewise forgot her, and had brought her as far out of remembrance, as he did the Lady of Tartaria. And this water did not one∣ly cause forgetfulnesse, but also it forced him to reprehende himselfe, saieng.

Oh foole without any vnderstanding, that so long hast had thy heart subiected vnto a Ladye, that is a straunger vnto thy Religion, intreating thée, not as a man that dooth procéede from a high and noble generation: but lyke the most basest and vilest wretch in al the world. Tel me thou lost man, who hath bene affectioned vnto a Moore without faith, but onely thy selfe? Who would haue left his naturall wife, for to loue a stranger & Barbarian, but thou? Who would giue so many sighes in vaine, but I most mi∣serable, giuing occasion of euerlasting death and damnati∣on vnto my soule.

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Oh base and grose vnderstanding, in what didst thou set thy loue? What beautie didst thou see in her, that thou wouldst follow her, as one lost for her loue? What blindnesse hath constrained thée, considering the great valour of the royall Empresse, and with what liberalitie she hath surrendred all her Kingdomes, and her owne person into thy hands.

These and other like complaints he made against himselfe, without taking any sleepe or rest, but was sore troubled with this thought, till such time as the morning came, and that Phoe∣bus with his golden beames couered all the earth, then hée tooke his horse with a more lighter heart, and cléerer of all thoughts, then at the time he came thether: for that he had as cleane forgot Lindabrides, as though he had neuer séene her. So all that daye he trauelled in that wildernesse, not knowing which way to take: and had eaten nothing, nei∣ther had he any thing to eate, the which did trouble him ve∣ry much. So when night drewe on, he discouered a heard of cattell, which were there féeding in the wildernesse, and de∣termined to goe towards that place whereas the heard men were, who receiued him very well. This Knight did aske of them, if they had any thing to giue him to eate, for that hée was very hungrie: the heard men bad him that he should a∣light, and that they would giue him of such as they had for themselues. So he alighted & did eate with a very good will, and so good a stomacke, as one which had not his heart nor minde occupied with the cares of loue, and there with those heard men, he passed all that night, till it was morning. So when it was daye one of the heard men did bring him into a very great & occupied way, to whom he gaue great thanks. Then the Knight tooke that waye forwards, which led him towards Prouince, intending to sée if he could méet with his friend, and did determine to trauaile thereabouts, to sée if Fortune would bring him that waye: he had not trauailed farre, when that he discouered another way, which did crosse ouerthwart the same way, in which he was. And studying with himselfe which waye to take, it was tolde him that

it was the waye which led strayght vnto Paris: of y^• which he was very ioyfull, and remained a while, thinking which way he might take for to finde Tefereo. And beeing in this muse, he heard towards his right side a great rushing of ar∣mour and armed Knights, and casting his head on the one side, he saw that there was about a ten knights which came running towards him with their speares very low, calling him traytor: as soone as the Knight of the Sunne saw them he put downe the visor of his helme, and layd hand on his sword: and at the same time, he beheld on the other side, as many moe Knights armed, which made towards him as the other did. In the ende he was compassed rounde about on euery side with fortie Knights, which all cried out saying, kill the traytor, let the traytor dye, of the which the Prince did greatly meruayle. So altogether they set vpon him, and ranne at him with their speares, and stroke him all at once, yet for all that, he mooued no more in his saddle, then if they had made their incounter against a strong Tower: but at the passing by, he stroke one of them vpon the visour of his helme, that he cut halfe his head a sunder, and he fell dead to the ground. All the rest retourned with their horses against the Prince, some with their swords in their hands, and other some, whose speares remayned whole, ranne at him againe, what on the one side and what on the other, they made a very fierce and strong incounter, as of those which were the whole choyce of them that were in the Citie, onelye to kill him. When the Prince sawe himselfe so inclosed on euerye side, his wrath and anger began to kindle in him, insomuch that he tooke his sword fast in his hand, & stroke such blowes, that whosoeuer he chaunced to hitte, was either slayne or maymed.

At this present time arriued in those partes at the Sea side, as I haue tolde you, Brufaldoro: and this was the bat∣tayle, wherein he sawe so many Knightes against one one∣ly Knight. This Moore did stande and beholde them, and was verye much amazed to see the power of one Knight, who brought so many as they were, into such great distres,

which made them to repent and were verie sorrie that euer they began that enterprise, but by reason that they were all chosen knightes, they would not but assault him verie fierce∣ly, which was the occasion of their farther harme & destructi∣on, for that the Princes▪ ire did so much increase, that it cau∣sed him to double his blowes, in such sorte, that some he kil∣led out right, and some he wounded, that in a small time he left not one vpon his horse, but all brought vnto the state that they could make no resistaunce, and when the Prince ••awe himselfe at more libertie, he demaunded what was the occasion of this so sodaine conflict, so one of those knightes which was verie sore hurt, tolde him how that they were knights belonging to the Earle of Prouince, which laye in waite for him to be reuenged of the death of his sonne, for y^t the whole circumstance of the battaile came vnto his know∣ledge. So the Prince left them, and woulde not speake anye word more vnto them, but his intent was to get him out of the Countrie, for that he well vnderstood that neither he nor Tefereo should haue anie good intertainment at their hands, and when he would haue departed, there came vnto him Brufaldoro, and did salute him verie curteously, the Prince did returne him his salutation, and had a great pleasure to beholde his good grace and gentilitie. So the Mauritanian be∣gan first to speake and sayd. Gentle and valiant knight, the first boone or gift that euer I did demaund since the time that I was borne, is this that I will aske of thée, and the occasion which doeth driue me to aske it, is constrained by the great valour and prowesse which I haue seene in thée, & sure it is an easie thing on thy part to be fulfilled, and there∣fore I doo desire thée to graunt me my request. The heroy∣call Grecian which had his eyes fixed vpon him, with great pleasure that he receiued at his gentle disposition, answered: As yet I neuer denyed anie thing that was demaunded of mée, being iustly demaunded and in a iust cause, neither had I anie respect whether it be easie to be done, or difficult, ther∣fore gētle knight aske whatsoeuer pleseth thée, for if it stand with iustice and reason, that I may graunt it thée, I doe pro∣mise

thée to accōplish it in very ample manner, not onely o••e boon, but so many as thou wilt aske of me. That which I wil aske thée, said y^e pagan, is not to put thy person in any peri••, no, nor y^t thou shalt mooue thy horse one foot out of the place where he standeth: but that thou wilt with thy valiant hand giue me y^e order of Knighthood, & arme me knight, the which thou maist doo, without any doubt or s••rupulositie. For heere I doo sweare vnto thée by my mightie thoughts, that I am a crowned King. This noble Greeke did accept his demand, and asked of him, if that he had watched his armour. The Moore aunswered, I suppose I haue watched them inough, for that it is now eighteene dayes since I haue hadde them continually on my backe. And for me there needeth no ce∣remonyes: for that I am no Christian, neither Pagan, nor Moore, nor Iewe, nor Gentile, neither doo I worship nor be∣léeue in God: For that the God of the Christians, I take him for my enimie: and as for Mahomet, I knowe he is little worth, and can doo lesse: and the Gentiles haue for their Gods, stockes and stones: and as for the Iewes I hate thē as base and vile people. Therefore I doo neither worshippe the one, nor beléeue in the other: but onely follow my own proper appetite. The Knight of the sunne could not refrain from laughter at his words, in séeing him to be a man of so much libertie, and aunswered him, saying. By God King, I doo sweare vnto thée, that I haue séene fewe or none of thy Religion: but whatsoeuer thou art, I will héere accomplish thy desire and request. Then the Prince asked him, Wilt thou be a Knight? The King aunswered, This I doo desire, and séeke no other thing, and putting on his right spurre, he kissed him on the chéeke in token of honour, and taking a rich sword, which a page of his carried with him, hée stroke him a blowe with it vpon his shoulder, and putting of it vp againe into his sheath, he hung it about his necke & sayd, Now King, thy desire is fulfilled, for y^t thou art a Knight. With great good reason may it be sayd, that in the fields of Prouince was giuen the order of Knighthood, vnto the most valiantest Moore in all the worlde, and by the hands of the

best Knight that euer was. The King was very glad to sée himselfe a Knight, and gaue great thankes vnto the Prince for the same, requesting him very earnestly that hee woulde tell him his name, for that he might know at whose hands he receiued the order of Knighthood: the which the Prince with a good will declared. And when he knew that he was sonne vnto the Emperor Trebatio, whom he accounted for his mortall enemie, altering his voyce, he sayd.

Oh Maho∣met, thou vile God, and full of all treasons, thou hast not lef•• to persecute me, euen vnto this present time: for thou hast brought me to receiue the order of Knighthoode, which was the thing that I most desired, at the hands of him, which is sonne vnto my mortall enimie. Héere I doo say vnto thée va∣lyant prince, that I would it had cost me my kingdome, that I had not receiued knighthood at thy hand, for that thou art sonne vnto the Emperour Trebatio, the fal••est traytor, that euer hath bene séene. The prince somewhat angry aunswe∣red him saying, King, it is not séemely in such as thou art, to speak words which be so false. It is very true, that the Em∣perour is my father, and the mightiest Prince in the vniuer∣sall worlde. And not as thou doest account him a traytour. For the which cause I doo tell thée that thou doost falsly lye, like the most vilest Pagan in all thy kingdome: and in the defence thereof I will driue thée out of the field, and depriue thée of this order which I haue giuen thée, that thou shalte not excercise it, by taking from thée thy life.

This miserable Pagan, who straight way was subiect vnto his furye, with great alteration sayd.

Oh wretched and vnfortunate knight, doost thou thinke that I am one of those Knights that will be tamed by the strength of thy arme, I wish thée not to be∣léeue it. For if thou doost proue my strength, thou shalt bée sure to finde another manner of rigor and force, then thou hast found in those; with whom thou hast got thy honour:

the prince, whose patience could not suffer such great pride, but as wrathfull as a Lyon replyed.

Thou proud Pagan, arme thy head, and prepare thée to the battaile, for by God I doo sweare that I will doo my best to cut of such an eni∣mie

from the Emperour my father.

The Pagan, without any more replying caused his helme to be ••ased on, and layd hande on his sworde. And the Prince likewise was readie to discharge his blowe, who raysing himselfe vp in his stirrops, stroke so strong a blowe vpon the pagans helme, that the sound was heard a great way in the fieldes, and it in∣forced him whether he would or not to make reuerence, & to holde downe his head béeing so astonyed, that it séemed a great tower had fallen vpon him: and as he woulde haue setteled himselfe againe in his saddle, he stroke him such an∣other vpon his shield, that he droue it vnto his head, which made him to tourne vp the white of his eyes with the great griefe which he receiued: and to kéepe himselfe vp from fal∣ling, both he and his horse staggered on the one side, which made the Prince to loose many a blow, notwithstanding, he pressed on him so fast, that he had no time to tourne him to strike againe. This Moore was verye much amazed at his great force and strength, and strake at the prince so furious and strong a blow, that he made him to loose his vnderstan∣ding, and almost to stoope with all his body vpon his horse necke. The prince came straight way to himselfe, and retur∣ned vnto y^e Moore with so much furie, striking such a blow vpon his shield, which although it séemed to be as hard as a Diamond, yet for all that, he cut it in two péeces, and the blow descended vpon his sholder, with such a great waight, that the mountaines eckoed with the noyse: which made the pagan for feare of falling to hold himselfe fast by the Horse mane, very much marueling y^t in one Knight there shuld be so much strength. Then he threw from him the rest of his shield which was left, and tooke his broad sword in both his hands, and droue such a blowe at the Prince, that lighting vpon his visor, it depriued him of his sight, & forced him to fall vpon his horse necke without any remembrance. This stout Pagan would haue retourned to strike him again, but he could not: for that his horse béeing skarred with y^e blow, lept on y^e one side, which saued him frō it. Yet y^e pagan folow∣ed to accomplish his will, which he could not doo so spéedely,

but that the Prince did settle himselfe in his saddle, and re∣couered againe his sword, and committing himselfe to God, as he alwayes was accustomed to doo, he sayd: Oh holy Ie∣su for thy names sake, ayde and helpe me. And therwith he spurred his Cornerino with great furie, that he made him runne like the winde, and in his course he sayd, Tarry, tarry, thou man without faith, and doo not thinke that thy blowes hath done any other thing on me, but onely caused my yre & anger to increase the more, for to procure to bring thée to thy ende, and to sende that excommunicated soule of thine to the diuell: and in the running of his horse, when he drew nigh him, he threatened him with his sword, shaking of it in such sort, that he gaue him to vnderstand, that at the next blowe he would make an ende of the battaile: and there∣with he stroke him such a blow on his helme, that the bloud ranne out at the visor thereof, and he fell downe backwards vpon his horse crouper almost dead. The great force that the Prince gaue to strike him, was the cause that he brake the lether of his right stirrop, and therewith he fell to y^e ground from his horse. But strayght way with great lightnesse he arose vp againe, and in the best manner he could he made it fast, and leaping into the saddle, he retourned towardes his enemie: who was with great trouble setling himselfe in his saddle, and looking vp to the heauen, he showed a pittifull countenaunce, as though he had bene very sore hurte, as in truth he was. And when he sawe himselfe so ill intreated, and all his head bathed in bloud, he beganne to crye out a∣gaynst Mahomet saying. Oh Mahomet, thou art the falsest God, amongst all the Gods, cursed be all they that doo trust in thée, and beléeue in thée. And of this be thou sure, that I doo not beléeue now in thée, neither will I so long as I liue: and this I doo promise thée, that wheresoeuer I finde anye Temple or Image of thine, to breake them downe with the strength of mine owne hande and furious arme. And with this anger he lifte vp his sword alofte, going towards the Prince, who was tarrying for him in the same manner, and with like furie. And both together, they discharged their

heauie and terrible blowes, but the Moores blowe was the first that lighted vppon the knight of the Sunnes healme, so that it made him to shake in his saddle, and hee lacked but a little to fall downe, the greate force and heauinesse of that blowe was the occasion that the blowe of the Prince could not be executed with the furie wherwith it was discharged, for that peraduenture if it had, he had not found himselfe so well as afterwarde hee did, for although it hit not right, bee∣ing stroken with so much madnesse, yet it made him whe∣ther he would or no, to stoope with his head, and therwith he straight wayes sett••led him, and séeing that the knight of the Sunne was still remaining in without anie feeling, hée sayde.

I do not determine to tarrie any longer, for that as I doo beléeue, thou art none other but the God Mars (although thou hast sayde that thou art a mortall man as I am,) and that thou art come downe to giue mee the order of knighthoode, and afterward to make mée feele the strength of thy arme, and when hee hadde sayde these wordes, hee called his Lac∣kyes in greate hast, and rode awaie with as much speede as possible might bee. At which time with the noyse of the bat∣taile came Tefereo, and as hée sawe the Prince in that sort, and his enimie going awaye▪ with so much hast, he made no longer tarrying, but set the spurres vnto his horse, and with a•• greate swiftnesse as he coulde, he followed after him. The Prince when hée came againe vnto himselfe, and coulde not see his enimie, was so kindeled with anger and wrath, that the bloud ranne out at his eyes with verie an∣ger. This Mauritanian did verie well in not tarrying the furie of the Prince at that time, for with the wrath that he had, harde Diamondes had not beene able to haue made a∣nie resistaunce against him, wherefore hée determined forth∣with to followe after him, but that a Damsel which was by, put her selfe before him and sayd.

Gentle Knight, it is sufficient that Tefereo doeth followe him, wherefore venture not thy selfe a newe in that wherein thou doest gette but verie little prowesse,

for he that doth followe him; wil•• handle him well inough, therefore come and followe me, for that there is other mat∣ters of greater importaunce which are tarrying for thée. The Prince when he hearde these wordes behelde well the Damosell that was talking with him, and straight wayes he knewe her to be the Damosell that hée and the Prince Eleno had found in the Barke, who after these spéeches went onwardes her waie with greate spéed. The Prince at that time had not his hart so quieted within him, as to aske her anie questions, but without saying anie worde he followed her, till they came vnto the filde whereas he sawe the Barke wherein the Damosell had come thether, into the which she entered, and after her followed the Knight of the Sunne, but when they were setteled within the Barke moo∣ued nothing at all, wherby they well vnderstood that it tarri∣ed for more companie whome he thought to be for his friend Tefereo, and as you before hearde, he with greate furie on horse backe rode after the Moore, and made so much▪ hast in following him, that he ouertooke him in a plaine fielde, and at the greate noyse and calling that Tefereo made, this Moo∣rish king looked backe, beléeuing that it had bene the Knight of the Sunne, but when he sawe him and knewe by his ar∣mour that it shoulde not be he, he tarryed for him, and when they drewe nigh together, he sayde! Knight, what a Diuell wouldest thou haue, that with so great hast thou doest fol∣lowe me, and with so arrogant a voice doest call me, Tefe∣reo aunswered him and sayd.

Cowarde, to make thée paie the giuing of that blowe, which thou gauest vnto a better Knight then thou art. Then the king sayde. Oh high Gods, what may this be, that in the beginning of my knighthoode I should be so reui••ed, and vnto Tefereo he replied: Knight thou lyest, for I neuer left my battaile for cowardnesse, but that as I doo well know, he with whome I had battaile is no man, but a Diuell, and againe I l••fte him for that hée gaue vnto mée the order of Knighthoode, but nowe thou shalt paye for all that which hee hath done vnto mée, ioyntly with the wordes which

thou hast héere spoken, and without anie more tarrieng they beganne to strike many and vnmeasurable 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the one at the other, the Moore stroke 〈◊〉〈◊〉 at the Sardenian which was so terrible, that it made him cleane to loose his sight, and to leane on the one side of his horse, so that hee had almost fallen downe, but with a ••rice hee setteled himselfe vpright in his saddle againe and finding the Moore at hande, 〈…〉〈…〉 a thrust at him so firme and strong, 〈…〉〈…〉 thrust him cleane out of the Saddle vppon the crouper of his horse•• so that he lacked but a little of falling downe backwarde, and seeing him in this sorte, with wonderfull agilitie hée 〈◊〉〈◊〉 on the other side, and before that the Moore coulde settle himselfe well agayne, hée stroke him such another blowe vpon his healme, that he made him to réele forwardes as fast as hée did backwardes, and then hée doubled him ano∣ther blowe vpon the backe, that whether hée woulde or no, hée made his head to touch the buttocke of his horse, and with the greate furie that he stroke the blowe, hée pricked his horse, which was the occasion that hée ranne forwardes in such sorte, that the Moore had time to recouer himselfe▪ a∣gaine, vsing his accustomed cursinges against Mahomet, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 calling him a thousande detestable names. So these valy∣aunt warriours without anie farther staring, ioyned againe together, whereas there beganne a new battaile farre more rigorous then the first, for that they were both furiously in∣censed with anger, not ceasing to torment their armes with terrible blows, without all pittie, in such sort▪ that their blowes were deliuered more with strength then with anie pollicie. Thus with terrible furie they brused one anothers flesh, that either of them did féele it very much: this Maurita∣nian with greate furie lift vp his swoorde for to strike the Sardenian, and he placed it in such sort that he made him to fall vpon his horse crouper, but by reason of the greate furie wherwith it was discharged, & againe that the Moores ho••se was somewhat weary, he stumbled & bowed vpon his knées, in such sort, that in a great while he could not rise vp againe, and although he spurred him very much, yet it 〈…〉〈…〉

The Moore séeing that all that he coulde dooe was to little effect, cryed out against Mahomet, and with the great force that the Moore vsed, his horse arose agayne vpon his féete, at such time as the Sardenian with so outragious cholar, that the smoke flew out at his visour, tooke his great sword in both his handes, letting his shéelde hang at his backe, and stroke him such a terrible blow vpon the creast of his helme, that hée made him cleane to loose his feeling for a greate while. The Moores horse by reason of his wearinesse was readie to fall downe on euerie side: This valyaunt Sarde∣nian séeing him in that case, and remembring in what order he had before left the knight of the Sunne, without anie more tarrying tourned about his swift and light horse, and with as much swiftnesse as might bee possible, he returned vnto the place where as he had left the knight of the Sun and when hée came vnto the place wheras the battaile was fought betwéen the two warriours, he found not the knight of the Sunne there, but retourning backe againe he tooke his waie towardes the Sea side, following the foote steppes of them and theyr horses, and in a small time hee came vn∣to the place, whereas he sawe a barke which was at an an∣ker fast vpon the shoare, and comming nigh vnto it he knew it to bée the verie same which had brought them thether, and for to knowe of certaintie whether the knight of the Sunne were there or not, he called with a loude voice vnto them which were in the Barke: vnto whome the Greeke made aunswere, and when he saw that it was his friend Tefereo that had called, he was verie gladde, and likewise Tefereo did greatly reioyce to sée him, and therewith he entered into the Barke, and when hée was entered therein, he heard one with a lowde voyce, which sayde. Tarrie, tarrie, thou cow∣ardly villaine, and doe not thinke to escape mée without thy due punishment. At which greate noise the Knight of the Sunne looked about and saw that it was the King of Mau∣ritania, which with verie greate hast came towardes them. The Prince wold haue gone out to him if y^t the Barke had not ben so far in the sea, as it was, for the which he was very

sad, & not a little disquieted, yet for all the anger which the Prince had, he could not choose but saie that the king was a good knight, and of as much might as Bramarant, and some∣what more valiaunt and politike, and meruailed with him∣selfe whether he were his sonne or no. So when the Pa∣gan sawe that he coulde not execute his furie and rage, hée beganne to roare lyke a Bull, and although he was not pur∣posed anie more to imbarke himselfe to sea, yet at that time hée was constrayned to chaunge his pretence, and finding op∣portunitie by reason of certaine Merchauntes which were fraighting of a shippe to Grecia, hée determined to goe into her. There hée imbarked himselfe, and the winde béeing ve∣rie prosperous they departed, and in a verie short time they ariued at a hauen in Grecia, where as hée went a lande, and trauailed in the Countrie certaine dayes. So it happened one daie that hée founde by a house of pleasure, a great com∣panie of Knightes, Ladyes, and Damosells, which were re∣creating of themselues. What they were, and what the king did, in following the Storie you shall vnderstande, and I will nowe leaue him for to tell you of the heroycall sonne of Trebatio, who for the space of sixe dayes sayled on the Sea with greate pleasure, often talking of the great strength and force of the Moore, the seauenth daye he ariued in a verye faire hauen or port, which was nigh vnto a verie sump∣tuous Citie, the which was furnished with greate shippes and Gallyes, and other small Barkes and Foystes. Amon∣gest all these they passed verie quicklye, without the inter∣ruption of anie person, till such time as the Barke was fast a grounde, and perceiuing that it was there conuenient that they shoulde disimbarke themselues, they leapt a shoare, and lykewise tooke out theyr horses, and straight waye they leapt on theyr backes, and tooke the waye which lead them vn∣to the Citie, wherein they discouered on the one parte a verie fayre and greate armie of men, and lykewise all the fielde was pitched with verie rich Tentes, and as they looked aboute, straight wayes they sawe come foorth of the Citie fiue mightie and strong Knightes, and a verie greate

and strong Gyaunt, and in the other parte of the armie one onely knight, whose armour séemed to bée of a passing fine Rubie, all to bée spotted with starres of golde, and set with Pearles. This sight did lyke them so well, that they were looking on that one Knight a greate while verie earnestly, and tooke greate pleasure to sée his good demenour. The Knight of the Sunne was imagining with himselfe what knight that shoulde bée, that was of so gentle disposition and proportion, beléeuing certainely that it coulde bée none, but some of his lignage. This knight passed harde by those two friendes, who did beholde them verie much, yet hée made no staying, but without speaking anie worde he passed on for∣wardes, and when hée was come into that place of the fielde that was appointed for the battaile, he put his speare in his reast, at the which token one of the sixe knightes came foorth to make resistaunce, whome the knight of the Sunne did knowe.

But nowe for that the historie goeth in order, it is néedfull to leaue them in this order, till time shall serue, and to returne againe, and tell you of the Emperour of Grecia, that came to the port of Cimarra, and there did disimbarke himselfe.

¶How the Greeke Emperour did disimbarke himselfe at the Citie of Cimarra, and what happened vnto him there. Cap. 25.

YOU haue heard before how that the Empe∣rour ariued at the Port of Cimarra, which was gouerned by the Father of that vn∣fortunate Herea, where when hée hadde put in order his inchaunted Barke, hée leapte a lande, and going on foote armed with that rich armour which Garrofilea had giuen vnto him, carrying his right hande vpon the reast which was in his armour, and his left hande voon the pomell of his swoorde, and his helme close which couered his face, and hanging at his necke

his gallaunt and rich shéelde, with a comelye and graue countenaunce he went towardes the Citie, and of the first that hée met withall, he asked what lande or Countrie that was, for that hée was ignoraunt thereof, and straight waie it was tolde him in the Sarasin language, that hée was in the kingdome of Cimarra, whereat hée was not a little de∣lighted, and considering the knowledge of the wise Lyrgan∣deo, he went forwardes on his waie without staying, till he entered into the gates of the Citie, and all they which met with him, did verie much beholde him, greatly meruailing at his grauitie, good disposition, and wonderfull stature. There were sundrye that aduertised the King there∣of as soone as hée was come a shoare, howe that there was a knight which did disimbarke himselfe at the Port or Ha∣uen, which came without gouernement, béeing armed with verie rich and costly armour, and one that was of an excel∣lent stature and good disposition. The auncient King of the Countrie who was aduertised thereof before by the wise Lyrgandeo, did straight waie knowe that it was hée which had passed the terrible kéepers of his murthered Daugh∣ter.

For you shall vnderstand, that as soone as the Emperour was departed from the Ilande, the wise Lyrgandeo com∣maunded that the bodie of the Ladie shoulde bée carried vn∣to Cimarra, aduertising her Father, that the long looked for reuengement was not farre of. And lykewise how and in what manner the knight which did it shoulde come into his lande, and also who that Knight shoulde bée. Wherefore as soone as the king was giuen to vnderstande of his ari∣uall, without anie more tarrying, béeing accompanyed with all his noble men, and leading in his hande a very fayre and young childe, about twelue yeares olde; the most best proportoined that euer nature coulde frame, of whome you shall heare no more in this booke, for that in the seconde booke it shall bée declared at large of him. The king went forth till he came to the chiefe place of the Citie, there to méet

with the Emperour, whereas likewise he met with this old and auncient King, who boowing his knées to the earth, and shedding of many teares, with ioye, receiued him, saying.

O high and mightie Emperour, giue me héere your hands, that I may discharge the dutie that all humane creatures do owe vnto your highnesse: how much more I, that am bounde therevnto, for that with so much firmenesse thou wouldest confirme thy oath, and take the charge in thine owne person to worke my reuengement.

The Emperour was in a great confusion, to heare himselfe named, and neuer gaue anye in all that lande to vnderstand thereof, but strayght waye hée suspected, that Lirgandeo should aduise him of his comming. And héerewith vsing of his accustomed bountie, hée tooke him by the hand, and lifted him from the grounde, saying,

Good King, the debt which thou sayst is due vnto me, thou hast repayed in showing the noblenesse of thy heart and cou∣rage, and otherwise I am constrained by y^e order of knight∣hood and iustice, to make reuengement of that cursed facte, which was without all pitie committed vpon thy daughter. And seeing that there can be no other remedy but onely re∣uengement, héere of my part I doo offer thée to doo all, that in my power is possible to be done, desiring thée that thou restraine these teares, and giue order that with great spéede there may be ioyned together all thy power, to the end that we maye goe and conclude that which in me lyeth. The King with a sad voyce aunswered. High and mightie Empe∣rour, this hath bene prouided for before, for all my peo∣ple and shires are at an houres warning, to goe to the ayd∣ing of so iust a cause, and we tarryed for nothing but onely your royall person, who must be the sword of my reuenge∣ment.

Thus with these and such like communications, they went vnto the Kings pallaice, which was hanged all with blacke clothes, for others he would not consent to haue han∣ged, since the death of his daughter Herea. There was the Emperour vnarmed, and serued with as great highnesse and honour, as though he had bene in Grecia. Notwithstanding

the Emperour, would not soiourne nor rest there much, for the next daye in the morning he commaunded that all th•• people should march forwards vnto a hauen which was at the vttermost parts of all the Kingdome, wheras they found ships and barkes of all sortes, verye well furnished of all things that was néedfull. There was thrée hundred ships one with another, in the which there was imbarked fiftie thousand Moores meruailously well appointed, and commit∣ting their sayles vnto the winde, all this Nauie tooke theyr voyage towards Numidia. So they nauigated, and founds the winde fauourable, which brought them vnto a porte or hauen, which was but two leagues from the Kings house. There, with great ioy and pleasure they went a shore, with out any resistaunce or gainsaying. So when they were all out of the shippes a lande, they displayed their ancients, and in very good order they marched forwards. And at such time as Apollo had made an ende of his iourney, and that the darke night came on, they came in sight of the Citie, and without taking any rest, towards the lande side they pitch∣ed their tents, and fortified themselues in the best wise they could, in such sort, as their good Captaine which did gouerne them had commaunded, without dooing any thing to the con∣trary. So when all things was put in good order as they would haue it, he commaunded that all the armie, should go vnto the gate of the Citie that was most néerest, the which was straight waye done: and in thrée dayes after they did no other thing but ease and rest themselues: for that the people were somewhat out of quiet with their great tra∣uayle.

The fourth daye, the Emperour séeing that there was no sturring in the Citie, (the which was done by pollicie, tarying to sée what the enimies would doo) the Emperour called for his armour: and being armed, there was brought a verye fayre and mightie horse vnto him: and with his accustomed courage he issued out from amongst his compa∣nye, and rode towards the wall of the Citie, and put him∣selfe into a faire gréene playne nigh vnto the walls, and lif∣ting

vp the visour of his healme, he set his horne vnto his mouth, and did sound it very strongly, which was to warne them that were in the Citie, to come to the walls and har∣ken what he would saye: and when he sawe that there was much people, attending to heare him, he began to saye.

O King Noraldino of Numidia, how carelesse thou art in this thy strong countrey, thinking that the strength thereof will defende thée, that thou payest not the price of thy naughtie treason, which thou didst vse with that vnfortunate Herea. Take vnto thée thy armour, and for that thou hadst a heart to commit this euill déede, haue now likewise a courage to make thy defence: come foorth of these thy walls, thou trai∣tour, and destroyer of the royall bloud.

All they which were on the walls did heare the threatenings, and straight waye went and tolde it vnto the king of Numidia, who was at that time in communication of warres and of armyes, and of all things that belonged therevnto, and when he hearde these newes, giuing a great sigh he sayd.

Oh ye Gods, are not you content to sée me in this perplexitie, and so much wronged, but likewise with sound of trumpet suffer me to be outraged in calling me traytor.

These fayned griefes and sorrowfull words had so much force, that it moued the harts of the Princes that were with him, for to goe out into the field for his defence: and in great hast they commaunded, that their harnesse shuld be brought vnto them, with deter∣mination to dye, or to defend his cause. And there was none that had any feare, but onely the Gyant, for that he would not giue any credit vnto the Kings words, although he dis∣sembled neuer so muuch: but by reason that he had sworne therevnto, hée was constrayned by his oath to goe foorth with the rest.

So in this order as I haue told you, they went foorth of the Citie all sixe together: and he which gaue the first onset was that valiant and amorous Eleno of Dacia brothers son vnto the Emperour, who with a gentle behauiour when hée came nigh the Emperour, sayd in the Saracen tongue:

It is not the part of good Knights to speake any villany, especially

against Kings whom they are bound to haue in reuerence & honour. To whom the Emperour aunswered in the same language. Art thou Noraldino King of Numidia? Don Ele∣no replyed, No, but I am a Knight, and a very stranger in this countrey: but yet by firme oath, I determine to dye in the defence of his right. The Emperor aunswered: He hath neither iustice nor right on his side, but it is most apparant wrong which he doth maintaine, and there is no reason that such a traytor as he is, shoulde be by anye other defended: neither is it séemely that anie Knight of price should charge himselfe in his behalfe, for that he is a traytor. And likewise he that doth defend him and take his part (in this, that hee will sustaine and maintaine so great vniustice) is pertaker of his treason, and meriteth a traytors name. And for that thou art his defender, héere I giue thée to vnderstand, that I care not for thée, and lesse I doo estéeme thée: for that hée which doth take vpon him to defend a traytor, may well be accounted a traytor. This valiaunt Eleno, when hée sawe himselfe to be so ill intreated, aunswered: Thou lyest in so saying, for that I was neuer traytor, neither doo I procéede of the lynage where traytors euer were: notwithstanding, thou shalt pay me with thy head, the great vncurtesie which thou hast vsed vnto me. Therefore it doth stande thée in hand to looke vnto thy selfe, and take that part of the fielde which thou thinkest best for thy purpose, and leaue off these blazing words to ioyne with me in battaile, that I maye sée if thou canst as well defend thy quarrell, as thou canst han∣dle thy tongue.

At which words, there drew nigh them the Prince Clauerindo, and as the Emperour woulde haue de∣parted to put himselfe in battel, he did behold him, & straight waye knew him. And casting his eyes on the one side, like∣wise knew the other thrée, but he could not knowe who the Prince Eleno should be: and for the great desire which hée had to know what he was, he sayd:

Knight, I doo desire thée for courtesies sake to tell me what thou art: & if thou wilt not grant me this, then I pray thée to lift vp y^• visor of thy helme, y^• I may sée thy face? for héere I giue thée to vnderstād

thy foure companions I dooe knowe, which is the occasion that I haue no desire to enter into battaile with thée. Then Don Eleno aunswered and sayd: Pagan, of the two things which thou doest aske of mée (although there is no compul∣sion) yet will I pleasure thée in fulfilling one of them:

and in saying these wordes, he lift vp the visour of his healme, and when the Emperour sawe him, he beléeued that it had béene his sonne Rosicleer, and with a loud voice he said.

Oh migh∣tie God, how can this be true, that vnto knights of my lig∣nage should chaunce so vile a spot, who hetherto in all their dooings haue got great honour and praise, and now are come to defend such apparaunt wickednesse and treason. Thou shalt vnderstand knight, that I am the Emperour Trebatio, and would not willingly now be called thy Father, for that thou art come to defend so apparaunt and knowen an euill, for I knowing the vnreasonable naughtinesse that this king hath committed, am come to take this conquest in hande, for in all my life time I neuer tooke a more iuster cause in hand, neither was there euer in all the worlde a thing more wor∣thier of punishment then this, and séeing that my fortune hath béen such, that my first enimie that shuld come against me, séemeth my sonne, put thy selfe héere now before thy high progenitour from whence thou doest descend, and for Gods loue doe not blot thy stock, in defending traitours & treason, & therwith in few words he told vnto them all the whole hi∣story, as before I haue tolde you. Then this excellent Dacian answered. High & mightie Emperour, although by my name thou hast not knowen me, yet in calling me sonne thou did∣dest happen on the truth. For thou shalt vnderstand that I am called Eleno of Dacia, sonne vnto the king of Dacia thy brother, and in that which thou hast sayde that we doe main∣taine treasons, we are to the contrarie informed, neuertheles I beséech your highnesse to tarrie héere a while, and there∣with he and the Prince in a great confusion returned to the place whereas the rest of his companions were, and turning his talke vnto the king, he sayd. King of Numidia, thou shalt vnderstand that yonder knight is the Emperour of Grecia,

my vnckle, who in that small time which we haue ben with him, hath told vnto vs all the effect of this thy matter, cleane contrary vnto that which thou hast declared vnto vs. Ther∣fore King, there is no reason, that Knights of so high bloud and name as we are should be set to defend lyes and trea∣sons: but if it be to the contrary of that which he hath told vnto me, haue no doubt but tell vs the truth. For héere I sweare by the loue that I beare vnto that vnlouing Lidia, that I will trauayle so with my vnckle, that greatly with thy honour thou shalt goe thorough with this conquest. Then this false King aunswered. O Knights which doo con∣fesse your selues to be Christians, and by the God whome you doo worship haue made a solemne oath to helpe and de∣fend me by the strength of your armes: how happeneth it now y^• without any care of your oth, which you haue sworn, you will leaue me desolate, and goe from your words, béeing doubtfull of the very truth. The couragious French man aunswered: Doo thou not thinke King, that our oathes and words shall be abrogated, rather first we will léese our liues, both I, the prince, & all our companions: but consider king, that God will not that we shall imagine amisse of Treba∣tio, who is a prince of great veritie and truth, and agayne, our verie nigh kinsman. Therefore this, and that which hée hath tolde vs, hath moued vs to come and tell thée, and doe saye, that none of vs will goe from his word and oath if thy cause be iust. Then the valyaunt Eleno did cut off his reasons, and tourning vnto the King he sayd. King of Numi∣dia, héere I do most humblye desire thée, that with false il∣lusions thou putte not vs vnto so great trauaile, for that then it can not be, but either wée must dye in the hands of him whome we doe desire to serue, or els, (though farre vnlikely) to kill him. Is it possible king, that thou hast brought vs vnto this estate, that crueltie should gouern our wills, without hauing power to doe any other thing.

The King when he saw that the Knights were very earnest, be∣gan to sweare with great oaths that his cause was iust, and that he had tolde vnto them the truth of the matter, and if

so be that the Emperour had tolde them any other thing, it was onely to deceiue them, and to tourne them, that they should not make his defence, and charged them againe with their oath which they had made and how that they had gi∣uen their words to be his vpholder and defender. This wor∣thy Dacian tourning vnto his companions sayd.

Knightes, what doo you thinke in this matter, what is it best that we doo héerein? For well you doo sée, that we are so bewrapte & bound one against another, and cousin against cousin, yet for all that we cannot by any meanes excuse the battaile. So they did all determine to retourne vnto the Emperour, and to desire him for to accept it in good part, and to leaue off that battaile, & to make thē beléeue that he was falsly informed, & when they came vnto him they said. Worthy Emperour, and our onely Lord, looke well vnto this false information, wherewith they haue informed you, and hauing well consi∣dered thereof, we doo all request you, for the loue which vnto your sonnes and cousins, and vnto all your friendes you doo owe, that it may moue you to take no occasion to put vs in∣to this extremitie, for that by anie meanes we cannot goe from our oath and word. Unto the which the Emperour an∣swered and sayd. My louing friends, if that you haue giuen your word and oath to procure to make defence of so false a King, doo you likewise indeuour to performe the same: for the like will I doe to accomplish that which I haue promi∣sed, for that there is no more reason for the one then for the other. But this one thing I doe tell you, that it is very ap∣parant that you will maintaine the treason of this false King, as it appereth plainly by many reasons, which I haue told vnto you: and the principall cause, wherin you maye sée plainely his treason and falshoode, is the little hast that hée doeth make himselfe vnto the battaile, and if he knew that he doo••h maintaine the truth, let him come forth and make his owne defence.

At the which reasons they all helde theyr peace, considering the great reason which the Emperour had declared, and determined that the next daie they woulde conclude, what were best to bée done, & so these sixe knights

returned vnto the Citie, and the Emperour vnto the campe. Of all this that happened, he that receiued the most content∣ment, was the Prince Eleno, for he desired verye much to retourne vnto the Citie, for that at his departure he left his Lady very sicke, so that he thought not to finde her aliue, and comming to the Citie, hée was no sooner alighted from his horse, but hée went straight vnto her Chamber, whereas hée found her with a mightie burning ague, and séeing her in that case, he was as one that was beside himselfe, and the more that her ague increased, the more furious she did shew her selfe and farther out of quiet. So this gréeuous and sicke Ladie did aske paper and inke for to write a few lines vn∣to him which was the causer of all this her harme, and ma∣king an ende of her writing, without power to doo any other thing, with the great féeblenesse shée felt, she fell downe vpon her pillowe, & speaking vnto Eleno she sayd.

Ualiant knight, behold héere thy Lidia, at her last ende: for that there doth not remaine in me strength for to giue thée thankes, for so great benefits as I haue receiued at thy handes: yet I car∣rie one great comfort with me, which is, y^• although I dye, yet thy great loyaltie doeth not dye, neyther my firme faith, and although I was vnloued of an vnfaythfull Knight, yet am I beloued of the most couragious knight in the worlde.

This sorrowfull and troubled Prince woulde not suffer her to goe forwards with her talke, but with shedding of manie teares from his eyes, he sayd.

Oh my swéete Mistresse, doe not giue me to vnderstande that thou wilt dye, if that thou meane I shall remaine a∣liue. Oh my loue, I would rather that my heart shoulde be parted in twaine, by the greatest enimie that I haue, then to remaine without thée. Oh my louing Mistres, let this thy youthfull yeres and great beautie which thou hast, incourage thée, & die not in this order:

this feeble Lidia for to shew with more feruentnesse the good will which she did owe vnto the P••••••ce, for his great curtesie forced her selfe to holde vp her head, and he lifted it vp with such quicknesse, as though her weake members had felt no griefe, & as though the furie of

that burning ague was not able to resist her, but with the force of loue she sate vp in her be••, and with her face of a fi∣ery colour she sayd.

My Lord, time doth not giue me anye place, that with words I might gratifie the great courtesie that of thée I haue receiued: for that I doo feele, that the ho∣wer is come, and that the three fatall sisters haue the thred of my life betwéene the edges of their shéeres, so that it lac∣keth nothing but to put them together: insomuch, that I miserable creature doo féele my soule tremble in my flesh, at this my last hower. But one thing, (oh my swéete and true louer) I will desire thée before that I doo dye, which is, that thou wouldest procure, that this letter maye bée giuen vnto that cruell Knight, who hath brought me vnto this estate, giuing him to vnderstande of this my troublesome death, the occasion whereof, was his vnreasonable crueltie.

And making an end of saying this, this miserable Lady fell downe, without hauing any more strength to sit vp, but let the letter fall out of her hande before her true louer, who tooke it vp and sayd.

Oh all my ioye, what a cruell knife is this to my heart, to heare thy complayntes, in giuing me to vnderstande the great crueltie that loue hath vsed against thée, without anye desert or reason: and verely I doo beléeue, that these thy great thoughts and griefes, but most of all thy absence wil be the occasion of my death. And if y^• my enimies are not of power to giue it me, héere I doo sweare vnto thee by the great and true loue which I beare vnto thée, that I my selfe with my owne hands will procure to pull this heart out of his place, for that it knew not how to giue thée contentment paying therwith y^e dutie y^t I ow vnto thée. O happy Brenio that didst obtaine so much grace & fauour at Venus handes, for to be beloued of the flower of all beautie. The Clime in the which thou wert borne was not so happie as to the con∣trarie my Clime hath béen vnhappie & vnfortunate. Take a good heart my Mistres, comfort your selfe and be strong, and bée not the occasion that I séeke my owne death, & héere I doe promise thée by thy vnhappie successe, to bring thée in∣to

the Prouince of Lusitania, or else to die.

Then this weake Lidia sayde:

Gentle Knight, there is nowe no time all béeing past, for that I doe féele my selfe that this is the last fight. The sacred Gods will not permit, that before my death I shoulde sée his face: for if I did, I verily beléeue that I should receiue some comfort. O immortall Gods, into your diuine bosomes I doe commend my soule, asking no other reuengement against the causer of all my euill, but that hée die of the same infirmitie. And thou mightie Gréeke, héere I do desire thée by the loue which thou doest séeme to owe me, for that thou séest that my death cannot be excused, and that Proserpina, is tarrying for mée, with both her armes abroade for to receiue my soule. And a∣gaine, that this shall be the last request that by me shall bée demanded of thée, as also to verifie this lo••e which thou hast shewed vnto me to be true, so that I hope thou canst not by anie meanes denie me to doe it. How is it possible my swéet Mistres, sayd the Prince, that now thou art in doubt of my loue, I promise you that my true loue doth not deserue this suspition, and héere I giue you to vnderstande, that first the mightie riuer of Tigris shall forsake her course and runne backe againe, before that anie lacke shall be found in me of that I owe vnto thy loue, neither anie forgetfulnesse to bee the occasion to withdraw me from doing anie thing that you shall commaund me, therfore swéet mistres aske what your pleasure is, for that thou canst aske nothing at my handes, but it shall be all thine. This weak Ladie, whose power and strength was wholy decayed, and that her houre drew nigh at hande, with a weake and feeble voice she said. That which I desire, gentle Lorde, is, that this my letter may come vnto the handes of Brenio, wherein he may see how cruell he hath bene vnto his Lidia.

So this dead Ladie spake neuer a word more, for at that instaunt the destinies concluded to cut the thrid of her lyfe a sunder. Heere the Prince lacked both rea∣son and patience, heere he lost all his comfort and vnderstan∣ding, & comming vnto the dead bodie of Lidia, he fell in a sound, & when (by the procurement of the Ladies and Dam∣sells

that were there present) he came to himselfe, he arose vp with a furious wrath, saying:

Is it of truth swéete soule that thou art departed & gone without me? Is it possible my Lidia y^t I shall not follow thée whether thou doest goe? Alas what shall I doe? where am I y^• I doo consent to let thée depart a∣lone? how is this my onely loue, shall I loose thée? What is it y^t this cruell heart aileth, that it renteth not in péeces. O E∣leno is this the loue that vnto thy Lidia liuing thou diddest shew.

At which great noise the other foure Princes entred in∣to the chamber, who were meruailously altered to heare his lamentations. So either of them in the best wise he could did procure to comfort him, but this amorous knight with the great anguish that he had, fel in a sound in the armes of Cla∣uerindo, who requested the Ladyes and damsells which were there in companie with the dead bodie, that they woulde or∣daine some thing to bring him againe to his remembraunce, and so with such remedies as they did make he came againe vnto himselfe, who then with great rage crieng out, called for his Lidia.

Oh my Lidia, what is become of thée, who for loue in another mans armes didst die, & now I die for thy loue? Oh the whole staie of all my life, where art thou my Lidia, my comfort, doest thou heare me? Doest thou not carrie with thée this thy heart? No, no, for yet I doe féele it. Is it possible that I can liue, or life will long sustaine me? I hard∣ly beléeue it. Oh my ioy, doest thou come againe, I pray thée bée not so ingratefull, but stay a while for I will come vnto thée. For now I am certainely perswaded that I am alto∣gether without life. Fond Eleno if thou be dead, wherefore doest thou talke so much of vanities, wherefore doest thou not hold thy peace.

And with these & such lyke reasons he re∣mained without any feeling, in such sort that it séemed that he was dead.

The other Princes which were there present sée∣ing him in that case, tooke him betwéene them, and carried him vnto another chamber, and procured that Lidia shoulde be buried, which straight waie was done, for that the King commaunded his Sepulchre shoulde bée open, in which they

put this dead Ladie. The Prince of Hungaria did remaine in companie with the Prince Eleno, for that he woulde not let him alone, for hée loued him out of all measure, because hée did resemble so much the valiaunt Rosicleer. So hée re∣mained there till such time as hée came vnto himselfe, and the first worde that Prince Eleno sayd, was: Where is the Letter of my Lidia. Liriamandro did giue it him, who taking it in his hand, he sayd.

Oh worke, and the last worke of that white Iuorie hande: héere I doe sweare vnto thée by the honour that I doo owe vnto knighthoode, not to a part it from my heart, till such time as the heart of that cruell Brenio bée cut it péeces, and in speaking this hée kissed it a thousand times, vttering a thousande varieties. And straight waye with a furious anger, hée arose vp and sayde: What is this Eleno, doest thou beléeue that with lamenting thou shalt recouer thy welbeloued Lidia, and not performe that which by her was commaunded thée. It is more requisite that thou doest trauaile and wander, till such time as thou hast performed that which thou hast promised, gather vnto thy selfe strength and courage, for to performe that which thy heart is bounde to doo. So with this anguish he arose vp at such times as Aurora, with his glistering beames hadde spread ouer the earth.

¶How that Eleno before he would goe into the field, would see the Sepulchre of Lidia, and what chaunced in the bat∣taile appointed with the Emperor, his kinsmen & friends. Chap. 26.

THE next morning when the daie was come, all these stout warriours were readye on horse backe, but Prince Eleno, woulde first goe and sée the Sepulchre of his Lidia, and going into the Temple of Mahomet, hée went straight vnto the place whereas they tolde him that his Lidia was, and hauing no strength

to suffer the great griefe that his heart did féele, he sayd. Oh my swéete Lidia, if thou doest heare my griefe and lamenta∣tion, let it appeare by some outwarde shewe in these harde stones, which hath bewrapt and inclosed thy white and deli∣cate body, that receiuing griefe at these my lamentations, it may giue place that I may sée thee, let this my anguish gréeue thée my Lidia, likewise let this my misfortune gréeue thée. But alasse what shall I say, is it not sufficient that the great paine that I doe sustaine for thy death, but I must bewaile my owne sorrowe: Oh mistres, at thy death thou madest an end of all thy paines, and mine doth more and more increase. And in saying these and such like lamentations, he drew out his Dagger, and with the point he wrote an Epitaph, which was as followeth.

HEere Lidia lou'de and vnbelou'de doth lie, Whose great good will to her small good did bring: She loue did feele, which causelesse did applie to her (perforce) of death the bitter sting. And though her corps inclosed heere doth lie, her lucklesse fate and fame will neuer die.

So when he had made this Epitaph, he arose vp, saying: héere I doe promise thée Lidia, since my fortune is such that I haue lost thée, there is no other that shall enter into this my heart and hard breast. But how can I saie that it is hard, did it not open at the houre when it felt thy absence, and so without saying anie more, he went out of the temple, with all the rest of his companions, and taking their horses, they altogether issued out of the citie, at such time as the Emperor was arming himselfe in his rich tent. The fierce king of Sar∣denia when he sawe that they returned againe, vnto y^• which the daie before they did intreate of, he could not bée in qui∣et, but sayde. O king, that for the defence of thy person wée must contende with that man whome we most estéeme, and thou must remaine in the field onely for the shew of a knight, and we inforced to finish the harme, wherof thou art

the occasion.

Well, doo not thou thinke that it shall be so, but perswade thy selfe, that thou shalt be the first in the incoun∣ter, that thou maist proue how euill it is to suffer the ••urie of the Emperour of Grecia. O worthie king of Sardenia, an∣swered the king of Numidia, how the great affection which thou hast vnto the Emperour, doth cause thée not to giue cre∣dit vnto this my iustice and right. Héere I doe require thée by the oath which thou madest vnto me, that thou be the first to put thy selfe in the defence of my person. To which the Sardenian aunswered: First, the heauen and the earth shall ioyne together, before that I wil consent that my arme shal mooue it selfe against him, whom I take for my Lord and master. And héere I saye vnto thée oh king, that if thou doo∣est but once againe will me héereto, I sweare to thée by the soueraigne God, that neither thy power, nor all thy subiects shall be able to deliuer thée out of my hands.

So their com∣munication was cut off by séeing the Emperour to come to∣wards them vpon a very faire horse, who showed so greate furie, that it was a wonder to sée. At this present time there appeared comming from those parts which was towardes the sea, two Knights, who were very well armed. If you do remember, these were the two valiant warriours, the prince of the Sunne, and the strong Sardenian. The great desire that the Emperour had to sée himselfe with the Numidian, was the occasion that he little estéemed the tarrying for those two knights, for that he thought the houre was come of the battaile, and that the defender should be (as he had demaun∣ded) that false King and traitour, he put himselfe forwardes towards the place wheras the Princes and the king came. And when they wer together, these Princes with very faire and amorous wordes and of great fidelitie, indeuoured so perswade the Emperour for to leaue the battaile, and that therein they should receiue meruailous great contentment, if he would accept it. The knight of y^• sunne stood & did be∣hold their reasonings, & did looke for no other thing but furi∣ous battaile, by all tokens y^t they shewed with their handes and other demeanors of their bodies: & knowing fiue of the

knightes, he very much meruailed what shoulde be the occa∣sion, and with this desire he had to knowe what should moue them to this controuersie, he sawe a Lackie which passed by, and he called him, & asked of him in the Saracen tongue, sai∣eng: Friend, tell me if thou cannest what is the occason that doth cause them to make this cruell and furious battaile, and who they be that doo make it. This Lackie (by the riches of his armour, and by his good proportion) iudged him to bée a knight of estimation, he saide: Gentle Knight, the cause of this controuersie and defence, if I should stand to tell you it all, it would be verie tedious, but of all the rest that thou do∣est aske me, I will giue thée to vnderstand that which I dooe knowe. You shall vnderstand that the knight which is a∣lone is the mightie Emperour Trebatio of Greece, and that which hée doth maintaine is great iustice and right, and will giue great punishment for the same, which is that that the others doe defend. The knight of the Sunne was very much amazed at that which he hearde, and therewith he went to∣wardes them before they had made an end of their reasoning▪ and so without anie shew of trouble he sayd vnto the Prince of Dacia (who was still sore troubled with the sorrowe, as you haue heard). Art thou Don Eleno of Dacia, my cousin, and brothers sonne vnto the Emperour, my Lord and Fa∣ther? I am he aunswered the Dacian, who ought not for to dye, before I giue thée thy death, for that thou hast caused so much euill to come vpon me, that liuing I doe now die. The knight of the Sunne béeing almost in a confusion to beare his drie reasons, answered: Louing cousin, I féele my selfe somewhat troubled at these thy wordes, and greatly a∣mazed that thou art fallen into so great pride to lift vp thy armed hand against thy naturall parents, and more béeing informed, that which thou doest pretend to defend is appa∣rant treason. The Prince Eleno did cut of his talke and said. Oh my cousin, héere I doe tell thée, that I doe séeke no other thing but death, therefore procure to giue it mée, for that I shal thinke my selfe happie to die in thy hands, notwithstan∣ding defend thy selfe as thou wert wont to do, for that thou

knowest it doth so behooue thée. With this furie and forget∣full vnderstanding, speking no more words, he turned about his horse, crying out and saying: I will liue no longer, seeing I haue lost that, beside which, to me can be no greater losse. The knight of the Sun verie much meruailed at these his short reasons, not knowing of anie thing that had happened vnto him, & wondering that his true heart should commit or maintain such wrongs, he turned about his horse for to make his defence, in such sort, that all the knights that were there, were not sufficient to disturbe him, but with great fury they met together with their speares, yet not one of thē was mo∣ued in their saddles, but remained as though they hadde bene two towers, and straight way with no lesse force they began to lay hold on their swordes, and for that the knight of the Sunne had a respect vnto him, he did rather procure to make his defence, then in anie thing to offend him, but Don Eleno stroke such a blowe at his cousin, that he made him to stoope with all his bodie to the horse necke. The knight of the Sun would haue taken reuengement of the same blowe, but hée considered that he was his cousin, and that he was ignorant of the cause that should moue him to commit this folly, for the which consideration he did suffer him, and would make no reuengement. Tefereo who sawe all that had passed, & re∣mained in his first place without remouing, til time did serue him to accomplish that which he had determined in his mind to doo, and when he sawe occasion for the same, he threw his shéeld vpon his arme, and put his speare in his rest, & made a shew y^t he would be doing with y^e gyant, y^t which he percei∣ued, & he put himself in a readinesse, but more to giue him to vnderstand what he was, then to hurt him. This furious Sardenian stroke his horse with the spurs, y^t he made him run like the commet which falleth from the side of Trion, & whē he came in the middest of his course, he turned his horse to∣ward the place whereas the king of Numidia was (who had put himselfe a part from the rest) with so great swiftnesse y^t by no meanes he could kéepe or defend himselfe from y^t in∣counter, but by reason of the strength wherwith it was giuē

he threw them to the ground, very euill intreated. He was no sooner fallen when that this couragious Sardenian leapt from his horse verie lightly, and found that the king of Nu∣midia was on foote readie for to defend himselfe, and crying out: Knightes, succour, succour, or else I am but dead. At the which noise all the other fiue knights looked about, and when they sawe the king in the power of that valiant knight, they would haue rescued him, but the light of all knighthoode which was the father and the sonne, did disturbe them, and put themselues before them, and would not suffer them to giue anie such aide, but did there great wonders, striking on euerie side, in such sort, that now one and then the other they made them to recoile backe. The strong and furious Eleno did but little harme with his swoorde, neither made he anie great resistaunce, the Gyant with as little hast as might bée went to helpe the Numidian king, & with a reasonable pace he went towards the place whereas the king was, (but for that reason would not consent that such as he is should bée holpen) with the hast that he made, his horse stumbled, in such sort, that horse and master fell to the ground, of the which he was verie sore hurt and brused, as it appeared by his slow rising vp againe. The valiant Sardenian with great pollicie procured to bring to an end his desire, before that a∣nie did come to disturbe him, and béeing lighted of his horse he made hast to the King and sayde: Thou traytour, it shal little profit or plesure thée to call for help, for y^t in my hands thou shalt leaue this thy traiterous soule, who doeth deserue to suffer all the euills that may bée, and therwith hée stroke him such a blowe vppon his healme, and with so greate furie, that he made him in spite of his heart to knéele with both his knées vppon the earth. So when the Sardenian perceiued him to bée in this case, with greate valyauntnesse he straight wayes layde holde of his healme with his lefte hande, and pulled it cleane from his head, and with his right hande he smote him such a blowe vppon the head, that hée parted it in two péeces, and immediatly hée fell downe dead to the ground, and looking about to sée whether his horse wer

gone or no, he found that he was nigh at hande. Then hée tooke the dead king and made him fast vnto the stiroppes of the Saddle, and with a trice hée leapt vpon his horse, and so without anie helpe of his stiroppes, hee made his horse to runne, and so drew the king after him throughout all the fielde. The Gyaunt would haue succoured him, but all was in vaine. In this sorte went Tefereo drawing the king af∣ter him before all the knightes that were there present and sayde: Knightes, what doe you meane to bée so still? Why doe you not vpholde and defend this trayterous king, in whose strength was all his confidence? Beholde now where he hath receiued the payment, that such euill workes as his deserued, and therewith he rode round about the fielde as hée did before. The Emperour when hée sawe that this fact was ended, would that his cousin Don Eleno, and the Prince his sonne shoulde leaue theyr battaile, which was betweene them begunne a newe, and they were giuing one another terrible blowes, but not with such great furie, for that they did knowe the one the other, otherwise it woulde haue gone ill on both parts. The Emperour put himself betwéene them and said.

Oh Knights, cease your battaile and hearken vnto my wordes. Eleno which was still kindled in wrath, hadde no respect vnto those wordes, neyther woulde hée part, but lyke a man distraught from himselfe, hée doubled such a blowe vpon the visour of the Emperour, that hée made him loose the sight of his eyes. The Emperour who was verie angry and not a lyttle grieued, at the small regarde that he had of his wordes, woulde presently haue reuenged the blowe, but that hée was disturbed by the Gyaunt, who pulling off his healme went towards the place whereas these thrée wor∣thie warriours were, and with a heauie and troubled voyce he sayde.

Heare mée O noble Emperour and you worthie knights, cease this your controuersie and staye your vnweakened armes, till such time as I haue vttered that which I will saye. Then the Emperour with his accustomed méeke∣nesse

sayd. Noble King, what is it that thou canst demaund of me, that I would not willingly accomplish? To whome he aunswered. Well, séeing it is so my Lord, I doo desire you to returne vnto your Tent, and take your ease, and to leaue off this, and such like controuersies: for that the cause ther∣of, my cousin and brothers sonne, hath taken away from be∣twéene you. And when he had sayd these & such like words, he retourned vnto his companions, and perswaded them al∣together to retourne vnto the Citie, to the which they all consented, although it was cleane contrary vnto the will of Don Eleno. So when they were entered into the Citie, they found that all the people and burgesses thereof were in great lamentation for the losse of their king and Lord, and the more, for that his death was so shamefull and odious. But they rested not till they came to the Kings Pallayce, whereas they were receiued, and were vnarmed, and com∣maunded the dinner to be made readye, whereat they were meruailouslye serued. And when that dinner and all was ended, the valyaunt Giaunt began to speake in this man∣ner.

Worthy Princes, and my Lords and friends, you doo well know, and héere you haue séene, how that all our trauayle which we haue had for to defend this king, hath bene great∣ly against our honours, and that neither our threatnings nor words were sufficient for to disturbe the will of the Em∣perour héerein: for that he knew that his quarrell was ve∣ry certaine and iust, which was the occasion, that the punish∣ment of this fact in all things hath bene fauourable accord∣ing vnto his desire. And for the better verefieng of the same, at that present time you saw come in place, his worthy son, accompanied with my brothers sonne my cousin, that with their aide he should conclude to put in execution his iuste & true desired reuengement: which hath bene a great reproch and ignomy vnto vs all, neither was there in any of vs so much force or st••ength to withstande or disturbe him: but after the king being slaine, as you all did sée, they tyed him to the stirrops, and dragged him through all the fielde. So

that now you ••hal vnderstand, the king being dead our oat•• is frée, and we at libertie, neither stand we bound vnto anye other thing. And that which we ought at this present to bée agréeued at, is, for that we are out of the grace and fauor of our Lorde the Emperour. Therefore one of vs being his brothers sonne, another his sonne in lawe, and another his brother in lawe, and all the rest his déere and intire friends, for that we doo well know that he was not the occasion of this our fonde offence. Let vs now acknowledge our faulte, and procure to enter againe into his fauour and friendship, and goe altogether and discharge our selues, for that it is n•• shame vnto vs, to aske pardon for our faults and offences. Héere haue I declared vnto you my opinion and my will: & I promise you I am determined to doo this, so that euery•• one may héerein doo, as best shall please him, and as he shall sée occasion. The first that aunswered héerevnto, was th•• va••••ant Tartarian, and sayd.

Excellent king, your counsayl•• héerein doth like me very well, and we ought not to take anie other counsaile, but this onely which thou hast giuen vs: for that we sée playnelye▪ that it hath pleased God to punish vs, for that we would de∣fende and maintaine such euill and naughtinesse, and with∣out any farther counsayle we did subiect our selues by our oathes: therefore I doo determine my selfe to followe thy pretended intention. So likewise this counsell séemed good vnto the rest of the Knights and Princes▪ repenting them∣selues of all that had bene past. Don Eleno, who was al∣most confounded for the controuersie that was betwixt him and his Cousin, with an altered and angrye voyce, he pre∣sently replyed.

I doo not deny, but that this which hath happened, hath bene to our infamie as much as may be, by the which it is knowen y^t we haue not maintained y^e truth. But for all that I wil not giue vnto the Emperour nor vnto y^e rest so much glorie, but let them make an end to triumph ouer our base∣nes: for as for my part, I wil first die, & be cut all to péeces▪

then to goe and yéeldo my selfe vnto them, nor to anye per∣son in the whole world. Let euery one doo as he thinketh best, for that the Dacian Prince will not let to be the same, which his fortune hath ordained, and therewith he arose vp from the table, and made as though he went vnto his cham∣ber, but he did not: for incontinent he called a Lackey of his, and armed himselfe, and commaunded him very secretly to carrie his horse out of the Citie, and to tarrie for him there, and the lackey did as the prince had commanded him. So when he was out of the Citie, he leaped vpon his horse, and carried in no place till he came vnto the waters side, and by chaunce he came vnto the place whereas the barke was, that brought his cousin thether, into which he entered, and his lackey put in his horse. He was no sooner in, when that with great swiftnesse the barke began to make sayle, wher∣as we will leaue him till time doo serue.

Now I will retourne vnto the Princes, who after ma∣ny reasonings, determined to goe foorthwith vnto the Em∣perours tent, and went vnto the chamber of Don Eleno▪ to perswade him to doo the like, but when they came ther, they neither found him nor his armour, for the which they were very sad and sorrie, imagining straight waye what he had done. And séeing that it was labour lost to goe and séeke him, they themselues determined to departe without him. And when they came vnto the scowtes of the host, it was asked them what they fought, and what they would haue? The Giaunt sayd vnto them: Friends, goe vnto the Em∣perour, and tell him that héere are the Knights with whom he had all his late contention, that are very desirous to speak with him. So the scoutes sent a messenger straight way vn∣to the Emperor. And when he had told it vnto him, he com∣maunded that they should presently let them passe.

When the Emperour vnderstoode that they drewe nigh vnto the Tente, with his mightie courage, and with his accustomed noblenesse, hée went out to méete them, with his royall armes spredde abroad, and so by one and one he louingly imbraced them all, and also desired them,

••hat there might be no communication of that which had past, for that it would be the occasion to disturbe their ioye and mirth which they ought to vse together meeting by ad∣uenture together in straunge Countries, so he cast his e••e a∣side to sée where his cousin the Prince Eleno was, but when he could not sée him, he asked for him, and it was tolde him all that had passed, and the dolorous end of Lidia, for y^• which they were verie sorrowfull, but especially the knight of the Sunne, for that he loued him verie much, and if the Empe∣rour his Father had not disturbed him, he would haue gone to haue sought him. Likewise the great ioy and contentment which the Gyant receiued in séeing his cous••n Tefereo, was no lesse then Tefereos to sée his vnckle, so that the delight of all of them apparantly appeared. In this sort they passed a∣waie the time till it was night without féeling anie paine of their passed trauaile. The next daie in the morning the king of Cimarra did arise, meruailouslye richlye apparelled, with roabes of cloth of golde, and went vnto the knightes, giuing them to vnderstand that he was more contented and in qui∣et then anie other king, in that he was reuenged in such sort as you haue heard. This good king neuer ceased in giuing thanks vnto the Emperour for the great curtesie which hee receiued at his hands, and there they gaue order that all the whole camp should returne vnto their owne countrie, for that which they came for was concluded, and that their departure shuld be in such sort, y^t the people shuld not do anie harme, y^t which was straight waie accomplished, & they appointed for king ouer that countrie a valiant knight, of whom we will intreate in the third part of this historie. So all the people of the king of Cimarra without giuing anie occasion of anger or harme, by the waie which they went, came vnto the place whereas they left all their fléete of ships, and there they im∣barked themselues, and committed theyr Sailes vnto the winde, which they founde fauourable and prosperous, and brought them quickly vnto Cimarra, whereas the king did detaine them fifteene dayes, although they were vnwilling. At the end whereof they determined to depart their way to∣wards

Grecia, and comaunded to fraight a very faire ship: so taking their leaue, and shipping themselues, they had a pleasaunt and peaceable winde, which brought them vnto the hauen Pireo in Grecia, whereas they went all a shoare: and all of them tooke horse sauing the great Gyaunt, who trauailed on foote, so they tooke their way towards Constan∣tinople. And when they came within two miles of it, nigh vnto a great house of pleasure, whereas the Empresse was at that time. In the middest of the waye, they sawe two knights, which were in a very great and well foughten bat∣taile. Whereas we will leaue them, for to tell you what the Morisco, King of Mauritania did, in the place whereas wée lefte him.

¶How that the two Empresses went for to recreate themselues vnto a house of pleasure, and what hap∣pened vnto them in that iourney. And howe the King of Mauritania found them in their pastimes, and knowing who they were, he would haue laide hold vpon the Empres Briana. Cap. 27.

BEfore in the historie, if you doo remember, the fierce Moore Brufaldoro came vnto the place whereas a companye of Ladyes and damsells were, whereas he stayed to looke and beholde them: and with them wer sit∣ting knights of a good disposition, and well proportioned. At which time as we began to intreate of them, I did not tell you who they were: but now you shall vnderstand, that they were the two Empresses of Constan∣tinople and Trapisond, who were come vnto that house of pleasure for to recreate themselues, which was verye nigh vnto a faire village. And the occasion of this theyr going foorth, was the great estéemed Quéene of Lira, (of whom till now our historie hath made no mention, nor of hir surpas∣sing excellencies, but hath referred them till time did serue) Shée béeing manye times with the Empresse Claridiana,

heard her teil of some feates of knighthoode that had pas∣sed by her, the which the Quéene with great contentment gaue eare vnto, imagining within her selfe to be of as good disposition, and haue as much strength as she, yea, and rather more: and knowing that her strength was much, she purpo∣sed verye secretlye to proue her selfe, and taking this place (whether as they went to recreate themselues) to be very fit for to performe her will, with all secrecie in the worlde, she commaunded that her armour (which Lirgandeo had pre∣sented vnto her) should be carried thether, which was ful∣filled and done by the damosells, for that they all had a great delight to pleasure and serue her, she was of them so welbe∣loued, and her excellent vertues deserued no lesse. So when they were come vnto the house of pleasure, she went foorthe to recreate her selfe with two Ladyes towards a fountaine somewhat out of the waye, whereas the Empres & her La∣dyes were set downe. And for that the Empresse Claridiana did vnderstand, (whether by her owne imagination, or that Lirgandeo had aduised her) that in such place commonly do∣eth fall out some aduentures, she commaunded to giue vnto her, her armour, which she caused to be brought vnto that house: and whilest she was arming, came the Moore Bru∣faldoro, thether: who séeing so faire a company, had a great desire to knowe who they were, and comming vnto a dam∣sell which was thereby, speaking with great courtesie, hée sayd. Damosell let me obtaine. I pray you, so much fauour at your hands, that you will tell me who they be that are in this faire company. This damsell séeing that with so great curtesie and good manners he did request her, and being a knight of so good disposition, she said. Sir knight, they be the Empresse of Grecia and her Ladies, which are come to this place to recreate themselues: and haue brought hether for their sauegard these well proportioned knights. When the Moore vnderstood that there was the Empresse of Gre∣cia, there entred straight way many things in his imagina∣tion, and many thoughts troubled his minde, till such time, as he dermined to doo that, which I will tell you.

So with a determined purpose he came vnto the place wher as the Empresse was: and without saying any worde, hée tooke her vy the arme, and with great strength lifte her vp, till he had her on his saddle bowe before him, and tourning his horse about he tooke his waye towards that place, from whence he came, with purpose to imbarke himselfe againe, in that shippe in which he came thether, and so to carrie her away: but the noyse and shrikes of the Ladyes and Da∣mosells were so pitifull and lowde, that there came vnto them the knights that were dispersed abroad in the forrest and other places. And when they came, and saw all that had passed, they altogether followed the Moore, so fast as theyr horse could runne: and in a short time they came for to take away his bootie, so that whether he would or not, he was driuen to let her goe, for to defende himselfe from y^e blowes which the knights layd on him, who on the one side and on the other, began to strike fiercely at him: but he made no more reckoning of them, then the huge and mightie Rocke doth of the troublesome waues of the seas, beating against it continually. Euen so were the blowes which the Gréeke knights stroke vpon the Pagan, who séeing himselfe hinde∣red of his purpose, drew out his sword, and stroke one of those knights such a blowe vpon the shoulder, that he cut him downe to the girdle, so that he fell downe dead to the ground: and not content héerewith, but began so to bestur himselfe, that in a small time, he seperated them all, some slaine and some very sore hurt & wounded. In this ••ime, that these knights were in their battaile, the Empresse Claridi∣ano was armed, and set vpon a mightie strong horse, and came with great yre, and sayd. Oh infernall Pagan, what diuell was that, which made thée so bolde with those vyle & wicked hands to come and take holde of the Empresse: and in saieng these words, she drew out her sworde, and stroke him such a blowe vpon the healme, that she made him boow his head vnto his breast: but straight wayes the Pagan came to himselfe, and firming his féete in his stirroppes hée made her aunswere, with a blowe no lesse furious then that

that he had receiued. So there began one of the best fough∣ten battailes that euer was betwéene two Knights. The Empresse when she sawe her selfe cleare out of the handes of the Moore, got on the one side, and sate downe vpon the gréene hearbs and did beholde the battaile. All the Ladyes & Damosells when they sawe her at libertie, ranne vnto the place whereas shée was, and in small time they had com∣passed her with a milde lamentation. At the same time out of the thickest of the Forrest came foorth a Knight verye well armed, with gréene armour, all to be spotted with Lyl∣lyes; and his shéelde of the same manner, but in the middest thereof was painted a hand, which séemed to be in a lake of water, holding in it a Lilly flower. And as he saw that fu∣rious battaile, he went vnto one of the Ladyes, and with a gracious courtesie he demaunded the occasion thereof. The effect thereof she tolde, and declared vnto him which was the knight that was in the Empresse defence. At this time the battaile was so kindeled, that with the furious blowes that were giuen, it had bene sufficient to haue cut a rocke in péeces. This strong Empresse was so wrathfull, that her battaile was more gouerned with yre then by pollicie, and with the great choller that she had, she stroke the Pagan so terrible a blow, that he fell downe vpon his horse necke, without any remembraunce, and with the sound of that ter∣rible blow the horse was somwhat scarred, in such sort, that he carried his master a while about the fielde. The Empres following him with her light horse, thinking that she hadde made an ende of the battaile, when that in the middest of her course, the Moore came to himselfe againe, and with madnesse, he fomed at the mouth, and beginning to vse his accustomed cursings against Mahomet. And recouering his sword, taking it fast in both his hands, he went towards the Empresse Claridiana, threatening her with a furious blowe.

The Empresse who sawe the blowe comming, shée lyfte vp her shéelde to receiue it therewith, the blowe fell so terri∣ble

thereon, that it parted it in two péeces, and lighted on her healm•• in such great force and furie, that it made her to fall backwards vpon the crouper of her horse without anie féeling, voyding much bloud out of her visour, with which blowe the horse was scarred, and ranne rounde about the fielde, the which when the Pagan saw, he followed after the Empresse, as the hauke, when you haue taken of her hood, discouering the Heron, with great fury flieth at her: euen so went this Moore saying. Now will I sée Empresse, whe∣ther all the strength of this knight be sufficient for to hin∣der me, that I carry thée not into a place, where Mahomet shall not be able to deliuer thée, nor take thée out of my hands.

Then the gentle Knight of the Lillyes, did put himselfe before the Empresse, and sayd. Stande thou proud Pagan, for first before thou dost that which thou thinkest to doo, it standeth thée in hand to looke to thy selfe, and in saying these words, he drew out his sword, and stroke him such an ouer∣thwart blowe vppon the visour of his healme, that he was ready to fall downe on the other side, and with the strength thereof, it depriued him of his sight, and after that hée stroke another blowe on the other side, that the Moore was not able to make any defence, but that he fell downe vpon his horse head. The Moore being kindeled with great madnesse, to sée two such mightie blowes giuen him, and he not able to make any defence. when he was come to himselfe, he went against his aduersary with his sword fast in both his hands, who was in the same sort tarrying for him: & they strake both together such terrible blowes, that both of them were constrayned to imbrace their horse neckes for not falling: but setteling themselues again, they recouered their swords, and pressed the one against the other, as commonlye the wilde Bulls doo in their fight, with the lyke yre these two ioyned together, making one of the most perillous battells in the world, striking one another whereas they might doo most harme.

It was so much without pittie, and with so furious wrath, as though it had bene two Lyons, and giuing such notable blowes, and battering of the copper and yron with such great noyse, that it did not onely glowe in the eares of those Ladies and the rest that were looking on, but the mountaines thereabout were moued with compassion and pitie, to sée their great crueltie one toward another. At this time the Empresse Claridiana was come to her selfe, and when she remembred the great peril in the which she was, she called vnto God for his helpe, and tourning about her light horse with so great swiftnesse, that wheresoeuer he did put his foote, there was no signe séene, she came vnto the place whereas the battaile was. The Knight with the gol∣den Lyllyes with a high voyce sayde. Most mightle and Emperiall Lady, take you the Empresse and carrie her a∣waye, and leaue her in safetie, and let me alone to punish this vncourteous Knight.

Then the Empresse and all her Ladyes did call her and sayd. Ualyaunt and worthy Lady, prouide to set vs at ly∣bertie, where we may be out of daunger, that you maye re∣tourne in time to helpe this Knight that hath done vs so much good. The Empres consented héereto at their requests, and so taking their palfrayes, they went with great hast vn∣to the Village. But when the Pagan did vnderstand, that it was a woman, which had brought him into so great ex∣tremitie, with a great noyse he sayd. Oh vile Mahomet, false, and of a base kinde: for thou, to doo mée more euill and shame, hast ca••sed me to enter into battaile with a wo∣man, who hath brought me into this necessitie. Oh traytor, and fa••sifier of thy faith, come downe from the Cottage whereas thou art, and I will giue thée to vnderstand, that thou thy selfe with all thy might shalt not be able so much to anger me, in that thou hast so despitefollye for my dis∣honour and shame, put mée in battayle before a wo∣man. The gentle knight with the Lillyes to those wordes sayd.

Holde thy peace Pagan and be still, and speake not so proud∣ly, whereas in resp••ct thereof thou shalt not be feared: for héere I doo certifie thée, that the Empresse Claridiana hath brought into subiection many better then thou art, and made them to stoope. And for that thou shalt vnderstand how lit∣tle thou art estéemed in Greece, and how much more thou maist complaine thy vnhappinesse, knowe that I am lyke∣wise a woman as she is, and am called Archisilora Quéene of Lira, and with the strength of my armes, I hope to cut off this wretched head from thy accursed shoulders. And it was very true which was spoken, for when she went away from the company of the Ladies, she went to arme her selfe, with purpose to demaund battaile of the Empresse Claridi∣ana, but when she came forth, she founde them as you haue alreadye heard.

The Pagan could be no more angry and wrathfull then he was, and without speaking any word, he turned & stroke very strongly at the Quéene, who with no lesse fury defen∣ded her selfe, and returned his blowes with both her hands, that it made a meruailous noyse. At this present time ap∣proched the two lights of all knighthood, the Emperour of Grecia and his sonne, and with them the Giaunt and the rest of the Princes that came with them. You shall vn∣derstande that these were the two knights, that in the high waye they founde in cruell battaile, and meruailing verye much at the power that was in the two warriours, they stayed to behold them, not knowing who they were. The Knight of the Sunne who had his eyes more fixed on them then the rest, did knowe the Pagan, as one which had first proued his furious force, & turning vnto y^e Emperor his fa∣ther he told him all that which had hapned vnto him in the fierce battaile which he hadde fought before with him in Fraunce.

Then they estéemed much the knight with the Lilies, to sée how well and how valiauntly he did behaue himselfe, not onely in this subtill defence, which against his aduersarie he made, but also his pollicie he made in offending his enimie.

So the knight of the Sunne with the greate desire that hée had to reuenge himselfe on the Pagan, mooued his horse to∣wardes him. At which time there came forth of the village a Knight with white armour, all full of Garlands of golde, made by subtill art. Likewise his shéelde was white, and there was painted on it an Emperiall head, which shewed as though it had béene cut off with a cruell knife, the throat all so bée rayed with bloud, verie artificially wrought, and when hée sawe the battaile, hée put himselfe to behold them, at such time as the valyaunt Gréeke approched vnto the two knightes that were in battaile for to speake vnto them, and hée sayd: Worthie knight with the Lyllyes, for curte∣sies sake (if this battayle be of small importaunce) that thou wouldest let me alone with this Pagan, for that I haue a iust quarrell against him. This excellent Ladie looking vp∣pon the knight of the Sunne as one which had neuer séene him, meruailing much at his fayre disposition, and replyed, saying: I woulde be verie gladde sir Knight, for your great curtesie and gentle demeanour, to leaue to you the battaile, if the occasion were not of so greate waight. Therefore I dooe desire you that you would stand aside, for if my successe fall out vnfortunatly, there will time inough remaine, for to execute your anger. The Moore did well vnderstand the de∣maunde of the Knight of the Sunne, and knewe him verye well to bée the same that gaue him the order of Knighthood, and when hée sawe him, hée roared lyke a furious Lyon, say∣ing: Oh vile and base Knight, to whome Mahomet hath giuen more power and strength then hée hath himselfe, come, come, and bring with thée in companie all these that bée there with thée, for of all you together I dooe estéeme no∣thing at all, and in saying these wordes, hée pressed vnto the Knight of the Sunne, verie fiercely and with greate courage the knight of the Sunne met him in the waye, and put him∣selfe before the Quéene, but this excellent Ladie with great lightnesse returned and did recouer her standing, and said vn∣to him.

Knight, bée not so farre out of measure, to giue ease

and helpe vnto them that giue thée no thankes for it. But the Prince who was then burning with wrath, retour••ed againe by the lefte side to put himselfe before her, and gaue the Pagan so terrible a blowe, that he made all his bodye to shake. The knight with the Lillyes did put himselfe a∣gaine before and sayde. In an euill houre doest thou vse this greate vncurtesie with one that thou doest not knowe. The fearce Pagan in all this time was not idle, but at such time as the Quéene did crosse the waye for to take her roome, the Pagan stroke her so stronglye, that it lacked but a little, that shée fell not from her horse to the ground. The knight with the Emperiall head when he sawe that, set his spurres to his horse, and sayd.

O men of small estimation, come hether to mée one of you, and dooe not occupie your selues in such controuersies. And with saying these and such lyke wordes, hée stroke the Quéene such a blowe, that he made her téeth to chatter in her head, in such sorte, that shée had almost lost her féeling, but hée had no cause to boast himselfe verie much of that blowe, for that quickly she retourned his salutation with so great strength, that shée gaue him well to vnderstand her cauragious force. Nowe there beganne a rigorous bat∣tayle, and the Knight of the Sun remained alone with the Pagan: Oh wise and warrelyke Eliza, giue mée to drinke of that water which the nine sisters did discouer, that by the helpe of that swéet liquor I may make sharpe my rude tongue, so that mixing the spéech of Mercurie with the prow∣esse of Mars, I maye vnfolde this furious battayle which these foure knightes made, who with excéeding and won∣derfull blowes stroke one another, without anie casing, that they made them whether they woulde or no, to incline their bodyes to theyr horse head, without anie féeling. In this sorte continued these valyaunt and warlyke knightes a good space, till such time as the Empresse Claridiana came in great hast, running with her light horse, and making a great noise, without anie consideration, but onely to bée re∣••enged on the Pagan and sayd.

Giue roome, giue roome, for this battaile dooth belong vn∣to mée to make an ende thereof. And without anie more speaking shée put her selfe before the knight of the Sunne, and beganne to laye on the Pagan with her furious blowes. The Pagan was nothing abashed at that, but as one which had strength and courage inough, he receiued them. Then the knight of the Sunne with greate anger sayde. Tell mée knight what is the cause which hath mooued thée to offer such lyke villanie. This womanly warriour retourned vn∣to him, and straight waye shée did knowe him to bée the Knight of the Sunne. Héere all you true louers may iudge the greate ioye that shée receiued when shée beheld before her, him who with so great loue she loued, and the greate desire she had to heare of him. So shée replyed with verie amorous wordes, and sayde.

My déere and welbeloued Lord, séeing that fortune hath brought you hether at this instaunt, procure ioyntly with your reuengement to work mine against this Pagan. Then the knight of the Sunne did knowe that it was his Ladie, wherewith his strength increased, and also his anger, vnder∣standing that the Pagan had vsed discurtesie agaynst her, and sayd: How is this thou false Pagan, that thou hast ben so hardie, for to anger and disquiet such a Ladie: Tarry, for héere I wil giue thée thy reward according vnto thy deserts. And with a new strength and valiant courage he pressed for∣wards. This pagan was amazed in séeing his enimy to shew more strength and better courage, which continually increa∣sed more and more, yet for all that hée shewed no kinde of faintnesse, but rather he stroke at him such terrible blowes and with so greate strength, as at anie time before hée had not done the lyke. At this time the Emperour, (which tyll that time did beholde all that had passed, and suffered not himselfe to be knowen vnto anie, by reason that he continu∣ally had his healme on his head) pulled off the same, that the more better to his contentment he might sée and beholde this furious battayle. Then the people of the Uillage

which wer come foorth for to sée the battaile, when they saw the Emperours face and knew him, they altogether with a great shoute sayd. Oh happie is this daye, in the which wée haue séene the excellent face of our renowmed Emperour, & therewith altogether they ran to him for to kisse his hands, and he which could first come vnto him, he thought himselfe most happiest. For he was the best be loued Prince amon∣gest his subiects in all the world. Many of them with great hast went to tell the Empresse, for to get a rewarde. The Pagan by the great stirring and rus••ing of the people, vn∣derstood that the Emperour was there, and thought within himselfe, that there he coulde get no honour, wherfore with great fury he lifte vp his sworde, and griping it fast in his hand, he stretched himselfe in his stirrops all y^t euer he could and strake such a terrible & furious blowe vpon the healme of the knight of the Sup••e that without any féeling be fel vpon his horse crupper, & when he saw him in that traunce, he set spurs to his horse, and made him to runne lyke the winde through the middest of all the people, that were look∣ing on the battell, and like as a Lyon in the mountaynes of Libia, whose breast is wounded by the stout hunts man, lea∣uing his darte in him, and besprinkeling all the grasse, with his bloud, which he doth expell from him without a∣ny feare, and tearing in péeces the dart, that was cause of all his harme, he giueth great and horrible roarings with his bloudie mouth, and bristling vp his rugged haire. So with like furie this valiaunt Pagan past thorough amongest the people that were there, so that some he threwe downe from their horse, and others he lefte very sore hurt, and with this perillous assault he put himselfe into the thicke woods. The Quéene which was fighting with the knight of the Empe∣riall head, did sée very well, how that the the Moore was es∣caped, and with the great anger which she had to sée him runne away without taking reuengement of him, she gaue so terrible a blowe vnto her aduersarie that it made him to ioyne his head with his breast, and lefte him without any remembraunce, and without any more tarrying, shée went

and followed the Pagan. The knight of the Sunne, who at this time was come to himselfe, and had fully recouered his remembraunce, and could not sée his enimie, he demaunded for him. And there it was tolde him of his desperate run∣ning away. The Prince would haue followed him, if the Emperour had not letted him. Likewise the Knight with the Emperiall heade came againe vnto himselfe, and think∣ing to haue made payment of that blow vnto his aduersary, he looked round about and could not sée her, and beholding all the rest which were in that company, he sawe that they were all well content and very ioyfull, and full of pleasure, wherefore without any more tarrying he put himselfe in∣to the forrest, leauing the Emperour and all the rest, verye desirous to know who he was, as also of the knight of the Lillyes: the which was straight waye tolde him by a Da∣mosell of the Quéenes, at the which they all remained much amazed, iudging it to be one of the most notablest things, that was in all the world. The Empresse when she vnder∣stood the good newes, straight waye went forth for to sée the Emperour, with so much ioye and pleasure, that she scantlye knew where she was: & when she came to cast her armes for to imbrace him she sayde. My Lorde, I doe not compare this imbracing vnto that, which an vncurteous Knight did giue me not long since. The Emperour did receiue her with great loue and gladnesse, and imbracing her harde he sayde. My louing Lady, let the delight of this, cause you to fo••get the despite of the other, and yet by it we haue lost the most excellent Lady in all the world, which is the Quéene of Li∣ra. Then did the Emperour declare vnto her all y^t had past, there in his sight, at the which the Empresse greatlye mer∣uailed, and was sorie for her departure: & with she great ple∣sure she receiued at the sight of the Emperour, she did not looke for the famous Knight of the Sunne, vntill such time as he came to kisse her hande: then was all-her ioye whol∣ly accomplished. So there they declared vnto the Emperor of the departing of Rosicleer and Brandimardo, and how ••hat they neuer heard any newes of them.

There was no lesse ioye betwéene the Knight of the Sunne and his spouse, for the one receiued the other with great re∣ioycing. For by reason of the water that he dronke at the fountaine, he had cleane forgotten and lost the loue he had to Lindabrides, which was the occasion of a double delight with his welbeloued Lady. This faire Empresse somewhat dissi∣muling the sorrow which she had for the losse of her chil∣dren, declared it vnto her déere beloued spouse, who with no lesse discretion, did giue her the hearing, not suffering her to knowe the griefe that he receiued, but rather comforted her, and gaue her to vnderstande by outwarde showes, that hée was very well content of all that had happened, which was vnto her great and perticular ioye and pleasure. So in this order they went talking together, till they came vnto the village, whereas they were receiued of all the people, with great ioye and reioycings, and with sundry pastimes, and there they dined: and in this sort they passed the rest of the daye.

The next daye in the morning they went towards Con∣stantinople, ane there was not one who sawe the Emperor and his company but receiued great pleasure. But Sindera the Dutchesse, and Aunt vnto Archisilora, was greatly grie∣ued for hir absence. As they trauailed by the way, y^e knight of the Sunne determined to giue the Emperour to vnder∣stande of all the loue that had passed betwéene him and the Empresse Claridiana. So the Emperour when he vnderstood it, was nothing sorrie for that which had past, but rather did determine to sende and call for the subiects and vassalles of the Empresse, and so in publike to marrie them together: yet at that time he did not giue him to vnderstande of the losse of the two children,

So with this and like communication, they came vnto the Citie, whereas they were receiued, as vnto their estate appertayned. And at their entering into the Pallaice, there came forth to receiue them, the Princesse Tigliasa, and the faire Oliuia, who for the discontentment which they recei∣ued for the absence of their Knights, would not goe forth of

Constantinople. What shall I saye to you of the Tartarian Zoylo, he was so out of quiet and troubled to sée the prin∣cesse, that he was almost beside himselfe, and chaunged his coulour, and lyke a man without vnderstanding hée came downe from the Pallayce, making a great noyse: and with out taking any rest, he went out of the Citie, and with great fury he put himselfe into the woods and wildernesse of Gre∣cia, leauing the sorrowfull Lady with so much care, that if the wise Lirgandeo had not comforted her, she thought ve∣rely to haue dyed at that present time, by whose counsell she was willed to goe and séeke him, and to carrie in companye with her two of her damosells: and he promised her so to remedie her sorrow, that she should be fully satisfied. The which did fall out cleane contrary: for that the knowledge of man doth little auaile to hinder the will of the Creator of all things. As héereafter shall be tolde you in the third part of this historie.

Now to retourne vnto the great pleasure which the sub∣iects of the Emperour receiued for his comming: it was in such sort, that they did no other thing but make feastes and pastimes. In the meane time whilest they were making all these pastimes in Constantinople, they sent to call the sub∣iectes and vassalles of the Empresse Claridiana, who came straight waye without anye delaye: and they which came, were the King of Pontus, and the King Simonia, and the great Duke of Alafonte. Unto whome was declared the whole occasion wherefore they were called. And when they knew y^t they shuld obtayne for their Lord so royal a prince, they were meruailously well contented and receiued greate pleasure: and without any more tarrying they made them sure together, whereat was made great feasts and pastimes▪ and there he was sworne Emperour, and they desired them, that they would goe & acknowledge their lands & countries, and gaue them to vnderstande, that the long absence of the Empresse was the occasiō of many dissentions, wherein some rebellious people did begin to shew their cankered thoughts.

To the which they graunted with a verie good will, and they carryed with them Tefereo and his vnckle. What shall I héere declare vnto you of the honorable receiuings and great pastimes and sportes which were made vnto them, it were too much héere to write, so the possession of all the Empire was giuen vnto them, wheras they determined to take their rest, till such time as fortune caused the contrarie, whereas they reigned with the most highest fame that euer any other obtained. And héere we will leaue them till time serueth, and begin to declare of the high & worthie feates of the faire Ar∣chisilora, the Quéene of Lira.

¶How the worthie Queene Archisilora was gone to pursue the Pagan, and of that which happened in the way of her battaile. Chap. 28.

THE worthie Quéene of Lyra which with great hast followed after the Pagan, strik∣ing with her spurres her light horse (who was without fault of all that had past) yet all was in vaine for to finde the Moore, but her swiftnes was lyke vnto a furious thun∣der bolt, for she trauesed in such great hast, that ther was no signe séene where her horse did tread: but all her labour was in vaine, for that she went cleane contrarie vnto the waye which the Pagan went, but as the thought of this irefull Ladie was for no other thing, but to procure to séeke him, shée neuer left this her furious course, till such time as shée came vnto y^e sea side, whereas for all the furie she was forced to staie, neuerthelesse she looked round about her on euerye side to sée if shée could discouer or finde him, whom with so great desire she sought, and in looking about her, she sawe come forth from that part of the forrest a damosell, who was verie faire, and saluted the Quéene verie curteously, who re∣turned againe her salutation, and asked her, saying: Fayre Damosell, can you tell me anye tidings of a knight y^t should come this waie, all in white armour. And what is it that

you would with this knight, answered the Damsell: it maye be (that if you will graunt me a thing that I will aske you) that I will carrie you into a place wheras you shall sée him. Heere I doe graunt it thée sayd the Quéene: You shall vnder∣stand, that in great hast he doth nauigate by sea, sayde the Damsell, therefore I doe desire thée (if thou wilt follow me) to put thy selfe in a barke with me which is héere by. The Quéene looking towards that part whereas the Damsell did shew her, sawe the Barke which was verie faire and great. The Damsell lighted from her palfraie, and put her selfe in the barke, and sayd: Knight with the Lillyes, if thou wilt haue that thou séekest, it behooueth thée to enter into this Barke with me, that I may carrie thée whereas thou shalt loose on a sodaine thy great mirth and gladnesse, thy heart re∣maining in so great captiuitie, that the best remedie that thou shalt conceiue, shall be to desire the death. This fayre la∣die had no regard to demaund the secrets of those words, as shée which made no reckoning of whatsoeuer should happen, neither did estéeme it, but without anie more wordes, shée lighted from her horse, and leading him by the bridle, she put her selfe into the Barke, she was not so soone entered in, but as the péece of ordinaunce which by the force of kindling the powder, casteth out the pellet with great force: with no lesse furie the barke shooued from the shore side. The damsell whē she sawe her selfe at the Sea, she sayd: Gracious Ladie, doo you knowe me. The quéene turned about to beholde her, and beholding her well, she sawe that it was the wise Lyrgan∣deo, at the which she found her selfe sore troubled, Lyrgandeo séeing that she did knowe him, sayd: Worthie Ladie, feare you nothing in this iourney, for by me thou shalt be carryed whereas thy fame shall be exalted, till such time as the braue Lyon doth rob thy heart, & thou remaining ouercome, shalt ouercome one of the best knights in all the world. And ma∣king an ende of these reasons, he vanished awaie, she knew not howe: And although the Quéene remained somewhat pacified, with that which Lyrgandeo had sayde, yet for all that, she did not let to thinke and muse of his wordes, and

that verie much: so straight waie came to her remembraunce the furious battaile of the Pagan, and likewise shée conside∣red of the furie of the knight of the Emperiall head, and sée∣ing that shée coulde not ouercome them, she remained verie sorrowfull, and lyfting vp her eyes vnto heauen, with great ire she blasphemed against her Gods, and blamed much the wise Lyrgandeo for his negligence, but when shée called to remembraunce the wordes of Lyrgandeo, and what hée had sayde, shée altered her minde and chaunged her thoughtes, and beganne a new to consider of the sharpe cutting swoord of the Mauritanian, which more entered into her heart, then the wilde Boares tooth in the daintie bodie of the fayre A∣donis. In this manner this solitarie Quéene of Lyra dyd nauigate foure dayes, and was so pensiue in thought, that she forgot and had no remembraunce to refresh her selfe in ea∣ting, but the wise Lyrgandeo had alwayes a greate care that shée should be serued verie daintely, not knowing who did serue her. So the fifte daie verie early in the morning shée discouered lande towardes her left hande, and the Barke in greate hast and with verie much swiftnesse made her way•• thether, She went so fast, that almost she hadde no time to arme her selfe before that the Barke came vnto the shoare, where shée might most at ease disimbarke her selfe, accord∣ing vnto the will of the wise man. So when they were at the shoare, shée tooke her horse by the bridle and went a lande, and without putting her foote into the stiroppe, shée leaped into the Saddle, and guided her selfe into a narrowe waie, all garnished with trées of diuerse sortes, whereas the chirping Birdes did make theyr accustomed songes without feare of anie man to molest them. Amongest the which trées there did not lacke the Sallowes, nourished by Alciades, nor the gréene Lawrell, so much estéemed of glistering Ap∣pollo, nor the swéete Myrtle trée hallowed by Venus, nor the high Cypres, so much regarded of Cupide, nor the harde Oake, so much desired of Mars, nor the Pine apple tree, which Iupiter dooeth cause to flourish. Of all the which this mightie Quéene did féele and had great delight, iudge∣ing

it to bée the habitation of the Gods, for that the Sunne with his glistering beames did passe through those gréene and pleasaunt trées, without anie let or hinderaunce of the heauens, by reason of theyr cléerenesse, with a verie soft•• ••nd pittering winde, shaking all those gréene leaues, which did make so swéete a noyse that it seemed rather celestiall then terrestriall, and a thousand little Brookes which ranne vpon the enamelled grounde, making sundrie fine workes and de∣uises, by theyr crooked runninges and tourninges, and ioy∣ning one water with another, with a verie gentle méeting, not making anie greate noise. This fayre Ladye béeing ra∣uished at the sight of this celestiall habitation, had not anye regarde at all, whether that her horse went in the right way or not. And trauailing in this sorte shée went forwardes till shée came into a meruaifous greate and wide medowe, béeing of so greate fayrenesse, that I am not with my pen able to paint out the excellencie thereof. Whereas was fée∣ding both wilde and tame Hartes, adorned with their great and cragged hornes. Likewise the furious wilde Boare, the simple Connies, and the enuious Beare, with the fierce Ly∣on, altogether were féeding with so greate friendshippe, as to the contrarie by Nature they are enimies. The Ladie was in such a dumpe to sée and beholde the great difference that was, and the greate loue betwéene these wild and tame beasts which were there present, that she did not cast vp her eyes to beholde a verie fayre and sumptuous Pallaice which was in the middest of the medowe, and vppon that sodayne sight shée fell in a musing and dumpe, as commonly the hus∣band man doeth when he goeth into the wilde fieldes and cragged mountaines, to séeke his simple shéepe which he hath lost, or as one finding himselfe in a royall citie, all garnished with rich citizens, of excéeding good behauiour, staieth at eue∣rie doore & corner of the stréets, musing at their strange appa∣rell, being different from that which hée hath séene before in his owne countrie: euen so was this Quéene ouercome in her owne conceite, and amazed in her imagination, to see so straunge loue, cleane contrarie vnto nature.

The wise Lyrgandeo doth write, for that he would not put the reader in admiration, he wold not tell all which he might of this straunge workmanship, but part thereof, which is re∣quisite to this our historie. Towards that part of the princi∣pall gate, and right before the pallace there appeared twelue Pinacles of so great and mightie height, that the pyramides of Aegypt were verie lowe in comparison to them, in such sort, that whosoeuer would looke on them, was scant able with his sight to comprehend the height, and they were all made of different coulours of stone: downe below vnder the towre there was an arch, with a gate, which séemed to be of Diamond, and all was compassed about with a great moat, being of so great deapth, that they thought it to reach to the middest of the earth, and it was almost two hundreth paces broade, and euerie gate had his drawne bridge, all made of boords verie red, which séemed as though they had bene all bathed in bloud, and on the vtter parts of all this, there was a piller of Iasper stone, at the which there hanged a horne, which séemed to bée of a Diamond, all wrought full of pre∣cious stones of a strange worke, the which was of great va∣lour, and garnished with chaines of gold that were made fast vnto it, whereat hung a Parchment as white as the Snow, wherein was written certaine Gréeke Letters which were all red, and reading of them shée sawe that the wordes were these.

At such time as the great matrone increasing with her excellencie the fame of the Greeke bloud, with a furious sound, that blowing of this horne he shall be accepted with greate contentment of the Aegyptian (but with braiding and reuiling at one time or other.) And giuing hope of that which is certaine, he shall come to inioy of the future time to his perpetuall fame.

Lyrgandeo for to explane the mysterie of this spéech, put in euerie demaund the exposition, declaring what it was, with the title in the Gréeke tongue, and for that the reader maye the better vnderstand it, he hath declared them in the vulgar tongue. So when the excellent Ladie had read it, she stayed

to beholde the excellencie of the workmanship of the horne, and the great riches thereof, and taking of it in her hand, she sawe that round about it there were certaine letters, which béeing read, she found to be thus: In sounding of me the gate shall be opened to thee. The which when shee vnderstoode, without anie more carrieng, she tooke that rich horne and set it vnto her mouth, and began to sound it, the which sounde was verie thrill to be heard, she had scarce made an ende of blowing, when that the gate was open. The Quéene when shée sawe it open passed the drawe bridge, and entered with∣in the gate into the Pallace, till she came vnto a great open Court, which was compassed about with thrée rowes of ve∣rie faire railes, on the which there was leaning on theyr breastes many knightes and Damosells meruailous richly apparelled, who when they sawe her within the court, with greate hast they vanished awaie. And in the middest of the Court there was a verie fayre trée, whose boughes were spread all abroad, and it was of greate riches, for that the boughes were, some of golde, and others of verie fine siluer, and enamelled with great subtiltie, and when she approched to it, the better to see the riches, she sawe in the bodie thereof a table which was all of golde, wherein was ingraued this that followeth.

Vnto that Knight, to whom is graunted the entering in∣to this sumptuous pallaice, if it be so that thou hast so much prowesse as to breake one of the braunches of golde which is vpon this tree, then hast thou made an ende and fullye con∣cluded all that which thou seest heere: but if thou cannest not obtaine to breake it, then layeng holde vppon that which is of Siluer, and if by thy prowesse thou doest breake that, it shall bee a token, that hee which shall conclude this aduenture is alreadie borne: and if it bee so, that thy sorce and strength is insufficient to doo either of those, then thou shalt bee throwen from it lyke a vile and naughtie per∣son.

When she had read this ingraued superscription, with∣out anie more tarrying, but euen on horse backe as she was,

she drew nigh vnto the golden boughes, and presently layd•• holde vpon one of them, with so much strength that she bow∣ed it downe vnto the bodie of the tree, but all her labour was in vaine, for that they who shoulde conclude this enterprise, ought to bee a man and not a woman. And while she perse∣uered in this her purpose, shée hearde a voyce which sayde: Wo bee vnto mee, wherfore doo you in this manner so greatly torment me, let not the coueting of this bough ouercome thée: let all this euill suffice thée which thou hast béen the occasion of to mée. For perswade thy selfe it shall not profit thée any thing. Beholde I am Alpatrafio the vnfortunate Emperour of Aegypt, who for that I was murtherer vnto my owne daughter, I doo suffer héere this torment. This worthye Queene did finde greate alteration in her selfe to heare so la∣mentable a voyce, & letting go the braunch out of her hands, shee looked about to sée who it shoulde bée that spake those dolefull wordes, but shée coulde not obtaine to the sight of a∣nie one: and for to proue and sée if it woulde againe speake, shee tooke the braunch once more in her hande, and pulled it with double furie and with so greate strength, that almost shee remained hanging by it as shée was on horsebacke, wherein shée got little honour, for that shée did no more then at the first time. So shée stayed to heare what the voyce woulde saye, which vttered this spéech: O gréedie Knight, why doest thou contend in such vnsatiable couetousnesse, what dost thou thinke that this siluer is not a sufficient trea∣sure? Héere I giue thée to vnderstand that thy mallice shall not haue so much strength for to atchieue to the ende of that which the bodie of the trée hath declared vnto thée. Therefore get thée hence, and let me alone with this my sorrowfull ad∣uenture, for that there bée manie more besides thy selfe which doe torment me, and let this content thée, that by thy arme I am all bathed in bloud. This valyaunt Quéene who was attendaunt vnto all that was spoken, shée did perceiue that the sounde of the voyce came foorth of the bodye of the trée, and not beeing then cer••ified who that shoulde be which

spake, she asked, Who art thou, that in so monstrous a fi∣gure hast requested mée to haue compassion? Thou shalt vn∣derstand, that by prouing at thy braunch, I well hoped to haue made an ende of this inchauntment, but this braunch of golde hath resisted mée verie much, therefore I will prooue this other which is of siluer, and without tarrying to heare her aunswere, shée layde holde on the braunch with so great furie, that shée tore it off from the trée, the braunch remay∣ning in her hands: and out of the place from whence it was torne, there issued out a streme of bloud, that all to be sprink∣led the Quéenes▪ armour, in such sorte, that it neuer lost the coulour, and when she had torne it awaye shee heard the voyce with a lamentable crie to saie: O Knight, the cause of my greate affliction: O mercilesse man, that without pittie hast thus wounded me? What did mooue thee so cruelly to teare off these my sorrowfull white haires, leauing me all to be bathed in my redde bloud, make an ende to kill me with thy cruell swoorde, for that by death I shall finish the suf∣fering of these cruell tormentes which I passe heere, and in so dooing I will take thee for pittifull: O cruell Knight, make an ende of this worke which thou hast begunne, and giue me heere the death. This disquie••ed Queene aunswe∣red.

I doe not determine to doe anie such thing, but rather if thou deseruest this torment, suffer it contentedly, till such time as thy aduenture come to conclusion. And so without tarrying anie longer to heare an aunswere, shee went to∣wardes a doore which stoode wide open on the one side of the Court, and comming thether, immediatly she sawe that there was a payre of stayres, and the steppes thereof went tour∣ning vpwardes lyke vnto a Snaile, and with the greate de∣••ire that she had to knowe whether it went, she alyghted forthwith from her horse, and went vp the stayres, which brought her into a verie greate and large hall, whereas shee did beholde on both sides much people, who altogether made a greate and sorrowfull lamentation, and comming nigh vn∣to them to see what was the occasion of their heauynesse,

she sawe layd along vpon a blacke Carpet two dead knights well proportioned and of greate beautie, and going more née∣rer to sée if shee coulde knowe them, shée knewe straight one of them to be the Empresse Claridiana, but the other shée did not knowe, for that shee hadde neuer seene him, but by the la∣mentable words which were spoken by an Emperour which was at the head of them, shee vnderstoode that it shoulde bée the knight of the Sunne, and he which made that greate lamentation was the Emperour his Father, at the which shée remained greatly amazed, and hearkening vnto that which the Emperour sayde, shée hearde that he complained on Fortune, saying: Oh fortune that hath so persecuted me: Oh my sonne Alfebo, flowre of all chiualrie, is it possible that there was so much power and strength in the people of Africa that they haue depriued thée of thy lyfe, and giuen thy bodye to rest on the colde earth: With no lesse com∣plaint this excellent Queene did celebrate that of the Empe∣rour. And if at that present she had seene, that which after∣warde she did see, (as shall be tolde you in the third booke of this historie) much more she woulde haue complained. Then she went vnto the other side of the hall to knowe the occasion of that grieuous complaint, she saw likewise y^t they mourned ouer other two knights, & plainely she did know one of them to be Rosicleer, but the other she did not know for that it was the king Sacridoro, whom she had neuer seene, for at such time as the queene came to Grecia, he was gone to his owne kingdome to take his ease, and the chiefe of those which did lament & mourne ouer Rosicleer, she knew to be his mother the Empresse of Grecia, who with deadly griefe and anguish sayd: Oh my sonne, the cause of all this my bitter torment, thou my sonne art in continuall rest, and hast left thy sorrow∣full mother in continuall lamentation: Oh wounded heart, what sorrowfull and bitter dayes shalt thou passe without a∣nie contentment: ah my Rosicleer, wherefore w••rt thou so cruel that thou wouldest not call me thy sorrowfull mother, that in this t••aunce she might haue borne thee companie. The valiaunt Queene felt no lesse sorrowe and griefe to see

this second companie, then at the sight of the first, but the la∣mentable and sorrowful words which the Empresse vttered did moue her to beare her companie, if that at that time shée had not séene come forth at a doore which was in the hall, a Ladie, séeming to bée of great authoritie, accompanyed with two faire Nymphs, all apparelled in russet Satten, pinked & cut, and lined with gréene Satten, which coulours were ve∣rie pleasant, and greatly delighted the sight. And when shée came nigh vnto the quéene she sayd: Knight, whosoeuer thou art, and doest shew thy selfe to be so furious, why doest thou hearken and giue eare vnto this lamentation: tell mée out of hande, without anie farther delaie who thou art, & where∣fore thou commest hether, for that thou shalt vnderstand that this place is prohibited to all knightes, except he first bring with him some signe or token of the braunch of y^e trée, wher∣as he who was murtherer to his owne daughter is inchan∣ted: so y^t if it hath ben thy fortune to atchieue y^e cutting either of the braunch of gold or siluer, shew it me forthwith, if not, vnderstand that thou shalt die a terrible death. This worthie Quéene who with a sober countenaunce gaue▪ eare vnto the sayings of the Ladie, and beholding much her great sobrietie: likewise the beautie of those which bare her companie, held vp the braunch of siluer in her hande, and with a high voyce she sayd: Ladie, I woulde not haue ben so bolde to haue ap∣proched hether, except I had brought with me the token which you speake off: therefore I ought not to incurre the paine prouided, beholde is this it which you sée, and therwith shée shewed her braunch. The Ladie when she knew that to be the braunch of the trée that she spake of, did abate her an∣ger that she before had, and shewed a merrie countenaunce, and taking her right hand from the shoulder of the Nymph, she laide holde on the armed hand of the quéene, and holding it verie fast, she sayd: Excellent Ladie, many dayes past I was giuen to vnderstand of thy great worthinesse, and that thou shouldest giue some contentment vnto y^e afflicted hearts, wherefore come with me and I will shew thée my habitati∣on, for that vnto thée the sight hath bene graunted, and not

vnto anie other: come on Ladie and reioyce the selfe in the sight of that which héereafter shall come to passe, without all doubt. And in saying these wordes she carried her in at the same doore whereas shée came forth in great hast, for that shée did knowe the tendernesse of her heart which was moo∣ued by the lamentation shée heard, and there shewed vnto her greate riches and verie faire buildinges, but especiallye shée carryed her into a verie faire and foure square Court, which had at euerie corner foure pillers, and vpon the toppe of ey∣ther of them an Image, meruailously wrought, and euerie one of them had his title written what it did signifie, and shée tolde her that those which shée had shewed her, were kings and Princes, and famous Lordes, that were there in∣chaunted. And how that all that should be made frustrate by one of the best knightes in all the world, who shall bring for his deuice blased on his shéelde, a braunch of golde, sig∣nifieng the same which she sawe in the first Court, in the which was inchaunted the Emperour of Aegypt. Likewise he shall deliuer the daughter of the sayd Emperour, whome hée supposeth he hath murthered, and shée was the fayrest Damosell in the whole world. And for that in the end of the third booke of this historie shall be declared the rest, where you shall receiue more contentment in the reading: Lyrgan∣deo will now goe no farther héerein. And telling vnto her these and many other thinges, they went farther, and passed through verie manie and fayre halls, the which were ador∣ned with the stories of the notable actes of worthie knights, but in one hall, in the middest of a Cloth, shée sawe the Pic∣ture of a knight of a greate stature, who was nine foote in height, and armed with Purple armour, and his shéelde of the same coulour, without hauing anie deuice, and his face was verie fayre. The Quéene coulde not by any meanes, but by sight thereof staie a while and beholde his greate beautie, and felt within her heart a new and strange wrast∣ling of loue, which tourned afterwarde into an amorous fire. This Ladie did well perceiue her newe imaginations, and with a gracious smiling shée tooke her by the hande, and

carried her out of that Chamber, (although shée coulde not bring her out of her newe conceit) shée went out so troubled, that all which the Ladie shewed her afterwardes, shée little respected, and when she thought least shée found her selfe out of the Pallaice, betweene the déepe Moate, and the fayre and rich walles, euen as one that had béene newe awaked out of his sléepe, and tourning her selfe vnto the Ladie, dissembling her newe paine she sayde. Ladie, I dooe not desire héere to haue gotten more honour, then in that I haue obtayned the knowledge and secreate of so notable a thing as this which you haue discouered vnto mée, and more to haue atchieued the desert of this braunch, so that by you it be graunted that I maye carrye it with mée. So the Ladie tooke the siluer braunch in her hande, and made it verie small, to the big∣nesse of a s••anne in length, and put it vppon her healme, and made it so fast and firme, as though it had bene wrought in by force of workmanshippe, and made it to extend the sil∣uer leaues on the one side and on the other with great subtil∣t••e, that it was a thing to be wondered at. And when she had done this, she sayd.

Worthie and fayre Ladie, the braunch is yours, for that you haue wonne it, and in token of thy desert thou doest car∣rie it vpon thy healme, where it shall remaine till such time as by the hands of a fierce Lyon it shall be throwen downe, leauing his heart wounded, and he remaining vnto thée sub∣mitted. And for to do•• thée pleasure Ladie, héere I doe pre∣sent thée these two Nymphes for to bée at thy commaunde∣ment, And so taking her by the hande, without anie more communication shée brought her ouer the bridge to the other side of the Moat, they were not so soone ouer when this La∣die did vanish awaie lyk•• the winde, and the Bridge was drawen vp, and shée heard within the pallaice a celestiall mu∣sicke, and looking that waye whereas shée founded the horne, and towardes that gate wherein she had entered, shée sawe vppon the pillar that was there a Nymph of golde, which seemed to bée verie subtillye wrought. And present∣ly without anie more tarrying she leapt vppon her horse,

which was brought thether for her, likewise the two Nimphes vpon two white Palfraies, which was likewise brought for them, and so they tooke their waye towards the sea, without any remembraunce of all that which shée had séene, neither did she thinke of it, till such time as she didde sée the perfect figure of that Knight, which she sawe in y^e hal, as shall be tolde you héerafter. So in great hast this quéene and her Nimphes trauayled till they were all imbarked in their Barke, whereas they found in the one part thereof ve∣ry rich roa••es. The making and fashion of them, and all the rest that happened shall be tolde you, when time serueth: and let vs now returne vnto the rest••••ng of the kingdome of Lira, which cost the Prince Brandimardo full déere.

¶How the famous Rosicle•••• and Brandimardo went to the kingdome of ••ara, and of all that had passed in the battaile they had with the Giaunts. Cap. 29.

YOu doo well remember, how that the worthy Rosicleer, and that gallant and newe Louer Brandimardo, trauayled by sea, towards the kingdome of Lira, to make battaile with the Gyants, that had vsurped the kingdome. The time & winde was so prosperous vnto them, that in a short space they arriued, & toke land in the hauen of the great citie of Lira, without any contradiction. And when they were a lande, they determined to sende a Page to de∣maund safeconduct of the Giants, giuing them to vnderstand of their comming. This gallant louer would néedes be the messenger, and therewith mounting vpon a very faire horse, he entered into the Citie, and stayed not till he came vnto the Pallayce of the Gyants, but went asking where there a∣biding was. And strayght way they were giuen to vnder∣stande thereof by a Knight, which sayde, that there was a strange knight which did demaund after them, & comming before them, without showing anye humilitie or stooping downe his head, he sayd▪ Giants, ther are two knights come

into the hauen of Lira, to defend the right of the Quéene Ar∣chisilora, and they doe send vnto you to aske safeconducte, for that they may not be disturbed by any person in these kingdomes but only your selues, who doo pretend by might to make you to acknowledge your euill and naughtinesse. Then Mandroco, who had lesse patience then the other, said. I doe not know wherefore these vnfortunate knights will occupy themselues in profering to defend that, which manye other would haue done, and yet were neuer able. Goe thy wayes, and tell them that they make no tarying to come and receiue their death. Brandimatdo, who well behelde theyr fierce disposition, sawe that it was no time to spend wordes in wast, but to put in practise the execution of y^t, which they came for, and without any replying vnto their words, he re∣turned vnto the place whereas he lefte the Prince, vnto whom he declared all that had past. So without any more a doe Rosicleer leaped vpon his mightie horse, and they lace•• and made fast their helmes, and hanged their shieldes about their neckes, and tooke each of them a great speare in theyr hands, and put themselues into the Citie, and rested not till they came into the broad place, which was right against the Pallayce. Their comming thether was at such time as Bul∣far and Mandroco came forth of the Pallaice, all ready and prepared for the battaile, and brought in their companye a great number of Knights. At that time the place was very full of people, who desired secretly in their hearts, that the straunge Knights might winne the victory, that they might be cleare and at libertie from that great subiection, in the which the Gyaunts helde them: the which they thought to be almost impossible, considering the great worthinesse and strength that was in the giants. And when they wer altoge∣ther in y^e place, Mandroco with a milde voice sayd: Miserable knights, at such time as you offred your persōs vnto y^e quéene Archisilora, with whom did you thinke to haue battaile, that you gaue credite, supposing your selues to haue sufficient force to execute your wils. Wherfore if you doo now thinke your selues deceiued, we shall be héere content to set you

at libertie of your former promise, with condition that you shall goe and tell her, that she ought to send Knghts of great prowesse and strength, and not such as you are. Then Ro∣sicleer sayd, Thou art very much deceiued Giant, in y^t thou saist, for we did very well knowe with whome we shoulde haue battayle, and were fully informed thereof, and purpose to take the head from thy body, in satisfaction of these trea∣sons which thou dost vse. The anger and yre of the Giant was such, that without any more tarrying, with great fury he turned about his horse, and his father did the like, y^e two Knights also did the same. And when they were right the one against the other, at the sound of sundry instruments of warres, they ranne the one against the other, in such sorte, that not one of them missed his blowe, but made the shiuers of the speares to flye in very small péeces in the aire, with∣out receiuing any griefe. So they altogether returned with their swords in their handes. Rosicleer encountered with Bulfar, for that he found him next at hand, and pressing vn∣to him, he stroke at him very great and heauie blowes, and the Gyant rendered him the like. With no lesse furie pressed Brandimardo against his enimie, making a very furious & well foughten battaile. At this time, the fierce Bulfar séeing the great resistance of his aduersarie, threw his shéeld at his backe, and his sonne Mandroco did the like, & both together they stroke such blowes at the knights, that without féeling it caused the horse of Rosicleer to giue a tourne in the place, and the like happened vnto Brandimardo▪ Héere his vnhap∣py fortune would, that his horse should carrie him thether, whereas Bulfar was, who assailed him at his ease on y^t one side, and stroke at him with both his hands such an vnmer∣cifull blowe, that lighting vpon his helme, which was néere hand as hard as a Diamond he cut it ioyntly with his head, and being very sore hurt this vnhappie Knight fell downe to the ground, at such time as the Prince was setling him∣selfe vpon his horse, & séeing Brandimardo downe, & so much bloud running from his head, he did verely beléeue that hée was dead. Wherewith his rage was so much, that the fire

came forth at his visor, and setting spurres to his mightye horse, he made him to mooue like the winde, and said with a loude voyce.

O vile beastes, that so villanously haue slaine him, who is more worth then both of you. Héere I doo sweare vnto you by the liuing God to force my power in such sort, that onely w^c two blowes I will send you vnto hell, which is your habitation, & therwith he came vnto Mandroco, who likewise came towards him, & stroke him such a blow vpon the helme, that the strength thereof little profited him, for by the fury of his arme he parted it in two péeces together w^t the head, so that the Giant fell down dead to the ground, & by reason of his great wayght, y^e fall séemed almost to shake the earth. The Gyant Bulfar when he sawe his sonne dead, with so desperate a blow, roaring out against his Gods, he lifte by his sword to strike the Prince: but he, who had as much pollicie as prowes, spurred his horse a litle forwards, & with a furious leape he cleared himselfe from that blow, and finding himselfe on the lefte side of Bulfar, he threw at him so terrible a foyne, that his harnesse deceiued him, and his sword entered into his body vp to the hilts, and at the pulling of his sword out, he drew out therewith his infer∣nall soule, and he fell downe dead to the grounde. Then when the people sawe the good successe that their desires had, they began to crye out with mightie voyces, saying: Li∣bertie, Libertie, and ranne vnto the Prince, some kissing his handes, some his skirtes of Maile, and some his féete, in such sorte they pressed on him that he coulde scantly stirre himselfe, but by reason of the greate griefe and sorrowe which he had for his friend Brandimardo, who coulde not receiue anie pleasure at all in this high and mightie victory: and without any care thereof, he alighted from his horse, and went vnto him, and tooke off his healme, and lif••ng vp his head vppon his knées, he called for a linnen cloath, the which was strayght wayes giuen him, where∣with he wiped and made cleane his face which was of a wanne colour.

Then this weake knight somewhat lifting vp his eyes, and séeing himselfe in the armes of Rosicleer, and vnderstanding that the battaile was finished, to the honour of his Lady and mistresse, with a féeble & fainting voice he sayd: Ah my Lord, and perfect friend, héere may you sée how contrarie fortune hath bene vnto me, in that she woulde not consent that I shuld reioyce in y^e triumph of this victorie: it doth not gréeue me to die, for that it is in defending the right of her whom I best loued. There is nothing that doth gréeue me so much, as that I cannot obtaine the reward I looked for. Héere I do desire thee my Lord, that by you she may vnderstand of all this my paine: and doe my heartie commendations vnto that my great desired Archi. Héere he could not make an ende to speake her name, but yéelded vp the Ghoast, his vnfortunate bodie remaining in the armes of the Prince, and with great wéeping he turned vnto the people that were there, and sayd. O you knights and Gentlemen of Lyra, how déerely is this your libertie bought, for in the recouerie thereof was slaine the best knight in all Asia. Then he séeing that there was no remedie for the harme that was done, he commaunded that hée should be carryed vnto the pallaice, and by the agréement of all the nobles he was buried in that place whereas the kings of Lyra were accustomed to be buried. So when Ro∣sicleer had séene the funerall of his friend, he would staie no longer in that kingdome, but by the consent of all that were present, he left the gouernement in the power of a worthie knight and noble gentleman of the realme, and tooke his oth that straight waie they should surrender it to their quéene & Ladie. And therewith he departed out of the Citie, & when he came vnto the water side, and woulde haue entered into the ship in the which he came, he sawe nigh vnto it the barks wherein he was wont to trauaile, and considering y^t it should not be there without occasion, without anie more deliberati∣on he entered into the same, who straight waie beganne to moue her selfe with her accustomed furie, and so without tarrying in anie place, he trauailed sixe dayes & sixe nightes, in the end of y^t which the Barke brought her selfe a ground

into a faire wide and sandie Baie, whereas he sawe vppon the shoare manie knightes which made battaile against one alone knight. The Prince seeing all that passed, with great anger he went out of the Barke to helpe him, who with great courage and pollicie did defend himselfe, whereas now we will leaue them, and retourne vnto Grecia for to make an ende of our first part. You doe well remember how that the knight with the Emperiall head, when he sawe himselfe cleere of that blow which the Queene of Lyra gaue him, put himselfe into the forrest, euen vnto the t••ickest of it, and did not determine to goe to the Court at Constantinople, about a certaine demaund which he came to make, till such time as all y^e knights and the rest of the people were in quiet. When he thought that it was time, he went vnto the Court and as∣ked for the Emperours pallace, when he came thether, he a∣lighted from his horse and went vp into the great hall wher∣as the Emperour was, with all them of his Court, exercising courtly pastimes and pleasures, and without making anye reuerence hee went vnto the place whereas the Emperour was, and he sayd: Good and noble Emperour of Grecia, this speake I for a truth (according vnto that which I haue heard reported of thée) that thou art one of those Princes that doth maintaine all iustice and equitie. The subiects and vassalls doe not alone make this report, but all the world is ful of it. And (as I vnderstand) although it be euen against thy owne person, yet thou wilt not let to doe that which is right, iustice being demaunded of thée, wherfore I doubt not but vnto me shall be graunted lisence héere in thy Countrie to put a de∣maund vnto whom it shall thinke me best, certifieng thée that it shall be a iust thing. The Emperour who knew him by the deuice that he had on his shéeld, that it was he which made the battaile with the Quéene of Lyra, with a sober countenaunce he sayd: Knight, although my fame be not such as you haue héere published, yet demanding any of this with equitie (as you doe certifie me you will) I cannot but graunt it vnto thée. And therefore héere I doe giue thée lisence that thou maist propone all that thy pleasure is, although it be a∣gainst

my selfe. The Knight who was very attendaunt to all that the Emperour sayd, and saw that license was gran∣ted him to aske at his pleasure, he sayd. O mightie Prince I would to God that my demaund were not that which it is, that without it I might inioye and comfort my selfe in beeing in your company, and the more that I doo certifie my selfe of thy vertue, I doo finde my selfe the more troubled, meruailing, how that in so noble a person, should remaine so great naughtinesse, as that which thou didst vse with the Quéene of Tinacria, who comforting & refreshing thée, when thou arriuedst there in great pouertie and distresse, in the ende, thou didst leaue her very sorrowfull and made a mock of her. Looke well vnto it Emperour, for that thou canst not make satisfaction for so great a fault, neyther will shée take any of thée, except it be with sending thy head, I will not that thou makest any amends, but that for her, I doo de∣fie thée to mortall battaile, onely thy person and mine toge∣ther, that I may fulfill the promise that I haue made vnto her: and if it so fall out that Fortune be to me contrary, I will remaine for the payment of my fullye, with my heade out from my shoulders. And with this he helde his peace: and looking on the one side and on the other, very ioyfull to sée so goodly a company of Knights as was at y^e time with the Emperour, he expected his aunswere. The Emperour who well vnderstoode his reasons, without showing any al∣teration in his countenaunce, aunswered. I doo not knowe whether my aunswere shall be sufficient for to excuse the fault, which the Queene without all reason doth burden me with. For the which, valiant Knight, I wold, as the Quéene hath tolde you the little reason that I had, so she shuld haue tolde you the great reason I had to doo that which I did. Héere I doo certefie thée that my thought doth not deserue, that she should be vnto me so cruell, nor extend so farre, for to desire my death. And certainly in this, the Quéene hath no reason, for that the head of Trebatio, maye doo her more seruice liuing, then it can doo being dead: but séeing it is her will. Héere I doo tell thée, that so long as I doo liue, I will

practise no other thing but onely to pacifie her, and so lyke∣wise will I procure to keepe and defende my head, and not onely mine owne, but also the heads of those which at her commaundement doo come, thinking to take away mine: & in this she shal vnderstand how much I am desirous to serue her. The battaile heere I doe graunt it vnto thee, and if thou wilt, let it be out of hand, and heere I doe promise thee Knight to procure to ke••pe my head, and likewise to keepe thine. Oh how the Moore found himselfe troubled, when hee heard the Emperours answere, and the little reckoning that he made of the battaile, and somewhat touched in pride, hee replyed and sayd. I know well Emperour, that the greate cōfidence which thou hast in thy self, maketh thee to esteeme little of the King of the Garamantes whom thou hast in thy presence: but I doe hope and trust in Mahomet, that before one hower when we are in the field, to make thee to lose thy confidence. And in saying these words, he went downe out of the Pallaice, and leapt vp vpon his horse, and went into the fielde, which was right agaynst the Pallaice, ordayned for such like occasions. The Emperour demaunded for his armour, and called for that with the starres, the same which the Queene Garrofilea gaue him. So in a trice he was ar∣med, not without many teares of the Empresse, who sayd. Ah my Lord I do well vnderstand, that of so long absence, there can grow nothing but great troubles, as doth appeare by this sodaine battaile. The Emperor not letting her to go forwards with her talke, but casting both his armes about her necke, and with shewe of great loue, he sayd. Thou my Lady and Empresse wert the occasion of all that euill, for if it had not bene onely for the losse of thy sight, I vowe that thy Emperour would first haue dyed the death, then meri∣ted the name to be disloyall. And that in not fulfilling her intent, there should not onelye haue happened one euill, but a great number. So it was Gods will that I shuld escape out of the battaile, as more at large I will tell you, ha∣uing more leasure. And in this manner hée departed from the Empresse, leauing her verie sadde and sorrowfull.

And the Emperour went to take his horse, carrying with him the king of Lacedemonia, who carryed his healme, and the Prince Claueryndo who carryed his shéeld, & his speare the Prince of Hungaria carryed. And when they went forth of the gates of the Pallaice, they beganne to sound a greate number of instruments, which indured till such time as they were entered into the field, whereas he put on his healme, and the rest of his armour giuen him which those Princes did carrie. So with a gallant demeanour he put himselfe on the one part of the field, awaiting a token or signe that shuld be giuen them. So it was not long after that the Prince Bargandel did sound a Clarion the which he had in his hand, at the sound whereof they ranne one against another with great furie, and in the middest of their course they gaue such incounters with their Speares, not missing of their blowes, but it was with so great force that they brake all to small p••eces, and without doing anie harme the one vnto the other they passed along, and straight wayes turned their horses a∣bout with their swords in their handes. The Moore when he sawe that the Emperour remained in his saddle, hée was ashamed, for that he did beléeue that onely with one blowe with his Speare to make an end of all that worke, his force and strength was such: And as you doo see a fierce Ly••n constraine•• by hunger to goe out of her caue, and followeth her praie with great desire to fill her paunch, euen so and ra∣ther with more furie went this Pagan, & casting his sheeld at his backe, he griped his sword in both his hands, raising himselfe in his stirrops, he str••ke such a blowe that whether he would or not, he made the Emperour to fall downe vpon his horse necke▪ and was so without remembraunce that he made his sword fall out of his hands and hang by y^e chaine, and his armes hung so loose as though he had bene dead, and his horse was so afraide that a while he went about the field. The Moore had well thought that the Emperour had bene dead, and stoode still and sayd. Well, I doe beleeue Em∣perour that thy promise shall be in vaine, and mine shall fal out true. At that time the Pagan spoke the truth, for that

the Emperours promise did not fall out true: so straight way he came againe to himselfe, and saw that he was so ill int••••a∣ted with one blow alone, he turned and recouered his sword with great ire and wrath, he threw his sheeld at his backe, & foamed at the visour of his helme with verie wrath that he had, euen as an arow driuē out of a ••ow by y^e hands of a Si∣rian, so he pressed himselfe vnto the More & sayd: Tarrie thou diuellish Pagan, tarrie, for héere I doo promise thée that by one blow alone I will take awaie thy life, for that thou with one blow didst depriue me of my vnderstanding. And thus my rude pen waxing wearie, and verie desirous to take his ease, as also my hand being gouerned by that Nymph Calio∣pe, causeth me to make an end of this first parte, for that in the second part hauing refreshed my selfe and gotten newe courage, I may goe tearing of the skies and the troublesome waues, not resting till I come into those concauits, where as Vulcan doth commaund the Cyclopes hammers for to giue a new aduise vnto this workman which neuer will be wea∣rie, and that he be in a readinesse ioyntly with fierce Mars, to assist me to declare the new deeds and acts of knighthood, con∣tained in the second booke of this part.

The end of the first booke of the second part of the Mirrour of Knighthood.