The Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia. Written by Sir Philip Sidney Knight. Now since the first edition augmented and ended

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[ 10] THE SECOND BOOKE OF THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA. (Book 2)

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IN these pastorall pastimes a great number of daies were sent to follow their flying pre∣decessours, while the cup of poison (which was deepely tasted of this noble companie) had left no [ 20] sinewe of theirs without mortally searching into it; yet neuer manifesting his venomous work, til once, that the night (parting away angry, that she could di¦still no more sleepe into the eies of louers) had no [ 25] sooner giuen place to the breaking out of the mor∣ning light, and the Sunne bestowed his beames vp∣on the tops of the mountaines, but that the woefull Gynecia (to whom rest was no ease) had left her loathed lodging, and gotten her selfe into the solitary places those deserts were full of, going vp and downe with such [ 30] vnquiet motions, as a grieued and hopeles minde is wont to bring forth. There ap∣peered vnto the eies of her iudgement the euils she was like to run into, with ougly infamie waiting vpon them: shee felt the terrors of her owne conscience: shee was guilty of a long exercised vertue, which made this vice the fuller of deformitie. The vttermost of the good she could aspire vnto, was a mortal woūd to her vexed spirits: [ 35] and lastly no small part of her euils was, that she was wise to see her euils. In so much, that hauing a great while throwne her countenaunce ghastly about her (as if shee had called all the powers of the world to be witnesse of her wretched estate) at length casting vp her watrie eyes to heauē, O Sunne (said she) whose vnspotted light directs the steps of mortall mankind, art thou not ashamed to impart the clearnesse of thy [ 40] presence to such a dust-creeping worme as I am? O you heauens (which continu∣ally keepe the course allotted vnto you) can none of your influences preuaile so much vpon the miserable Gynecia, as to make her preserue a course so long imbra∣ced by her? O deserts, deserts, how fita guest am I for you, since my hart can peo∣ple you with wild rauenous beastes, which in you are wanting? O Vertue, where [ 45] doost thou hide thy selfe? What hideous thinge is this which doeth Eclips thee? Or is it true that thou weart neuer but a vaine name, and no essentiall thing, which hast thus left thy professed seruant, when she had most need of thy louely presence?

O imperfect proportiō of reason, which can too much foresee, & too little preuent. Alas, alas (said she) if there were but one hope for all my paines, or but one excuse for all my faultinesse. But wretch that I am, my torment is beyond all succour, and my euill deseruing doth exceed my euill fortune. For nothing els did my husband take this straunge resolution to liue so solitarily: for nothing els haue the windes [ 5] deliuered this straunge guest to my country: for nothing els haue the destinies reserued my life to this time, but that onely I (most wretched I) should become a plague to my selfe, and a shame to womankind. Yet if my desire (how vniust so euer it be) might take effect, though a thousand deaths folowed it, and euery death were followed with a thousand shames; yet should not my sepulcher receiue mee [ 10] without some contentment. But alas, though sure I am, that Zelmane is such as can answer my loue; yet as sure I am, that this disguising must needs come for some fore∣taken cōceipt. And then, wretched Gynecia, where canst thou find any small ground plot for hope to dwel vpon? No, no, it is Philoclea his hart is sett vpō: it is my daugh∣ter I haue borne to supplant me. But if it bee so, the life I haue giuen thee (vngrate∣full [ 15] Philoclea) I will sooner with these handes bereaue thee of, then my birth shall glory, she hath bereaued me of my desires. In shame there is no comfort, but to bee beyond all bounds of shame.

Hauing spoken thus, she began to make a piteous war with hir faire haire, when she might heare (not far frō her) an extremely dolefull voice, but so suppressed with [ 20] a kind of whispering note, that she could not conceaue the wordes distinctly. But (as a lamentable tune is the sweetest musicke to a wofull mind) shee drewe thether heere-away, in hope to find some companiō of her misery. And as she paced on, she was stopped with a number of trees, so thickly placed together, that she was afraide shee should (with rushing thorow) stop the speach of the lamentable partie, which [ 25] shee was so desirous to vnderstand. And therefore setting her downe as softlie as she could (for she was now in distaunce to heare) she might first perceaue a Lute excellentlie well played vppon, and then the same dolefull voyce accompanyinge it with these verses.

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IN vaine, mine Eyes, you labour to amende With flowing teares your fault of hasty sight: Since to my hart her shape you so did sende; That her I see, though you did lose your light.

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In vaine, my Hart, now you with sight are burnd, With sighes you seeke to coole your hotte desire: Since sighes (into mine inward fornace turnd) For bellowes serue to kindle more the fire.

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Reason, in vaine (now you haue lost my hart) My head you seeke, as to your strongest forte: Since there mine eyes haue played so false a parte, That to your strength your foes haue sure resorte. Then since in vaine I find were all my strife, [ 45] To this strange death I vainely yeeld my life.

The ending of the song serued but for a beginning of new plaints, as if the mind (oppressed with too heauy a burthē of cares) was faine to discharge it self of al sides, & as it were, paint out the hideousnes of the paine in all sortes of coulours. For the wofull person (as if the lute had euill ioined with the voice) threw it to the ground [ 5] with such like words: Alas, poore Lute, how much art thou deceiu'd to think, that in my miseries thou couldst ease my woes, as in my careles times thou was wont to please my fancies? The time is changed, my Lute, the time is changed; and no more did my ioyfull minde then receiue euery thing to a ioyful consideration, then my carefull mind now makes ech thing tast like the bitter iuyce of care. The evill is [ 10] inward, my Lute, the euill is inward; which all thou doost, doth serue but to make me thinke more freely off. And alas, what is then thy harmony, but the sweete meats of sorrow? The discord of my thoughts, my Lute, doth ill agree to the concord of thy strings; therefore be not ashamed to leaue thy master, since hee is not afraide to forsake himselfe.

[ 15] And thus much spoke (in steede of a conclusion) was closed vp with so harty a groning, that Gynecia could not refraine to shew her selfe, thinking such griefes could serue fitly for nothing, but her owne fortune. But as she came into the little Arbour of this sorrowful musicke, her eyes met with the eyes of Zelmane, which was the par∣ty that thus had indited her selfe of miserie: so that either of them remained cōfused [ 20] with a sodaine astonishment. Zelmane fearing, least she had heard some part of those complaints, which she had risen vp that morning early of purpose, to breath out in secret to her selfe. But Gynecia a great while stood still, with a kind of dull amasement, looking stedfastly vpon her: at length returning to some vse of her selfe, she began to aske Zelmane, what cause carried her so early abroad? But as if the opening of her [ 25] mouth to Zelmane, had opened some great flood-gate of sorrow (whereof her heart could not abide the violēt issue) she sanke to the ground, with her hāds ouer her face crying vehemently, Zelmane helpe me, O Zelmane haue pittie on me. Zelmane ranne to her, maruelling what sodaine sicknesse had thus possessed her: & beginning to aske her the cause of her paine, & offering her seruice to be imployed by her: Gynecia o∣pening [ 30] her eyes wildly vpon her, pricked with the flames of loue, & the torments of her owne conscience; O Zelmane, Zelmane, (said she) doost thou offer me phisicke, which art my only poyson? Or wilt thou doo me seruice, which hast alredy brought me into eternall slauerie? Zelmane then knowing well at what marke shee shot, yet loth to enter into it; Most excellēt Ladie (said she) you were best retire your selfe in∣to [ 35] your lodging, that you the better ••ay passe this sodaine fitte. Retire my selfe? (said Gynecia) If I had retyred my selfe into my selfe, when thou to me (vnfortunate guest) camest to draw me from my selfe; blessed had I bene, & no neede had I had of this counsaile. But now alas, I am forced to flie to thee for succour, whom I ac∣cuse of all my hurt; & make thee iudge of my cause, who art the only author of my [ 40] mischiefe Zelmane the more astonished, the more she vnderstood her; Madam (said she) whereof do you accuse me, that I will not cleere my selfe? Or wherein may I steed you, that you may not command me? Alas, answered Gynecia, what shall I say more? Take pitty of me, O Zelmane, but not as Zelmane, and disguise not with me in words, as I know thou doost in apparell.

[ 45] Zelmane was much troubled with that worde, finding her selfe brought to this streight. But as she was thinking what to answere her; they might see olde Basilius passe harde by them, without euer seeing them: complayning likewise of loue very

freshly; and ending his complaint with this song, Loue hauing renewed both his in∣uention, and voyce.

LEt not old age disgrace my high desire, O heauenly soule, in humaine shape conteind: [ 5] Old wood in flam'de, doth yeeld the brauest fire, When yonger dooth in smoke his vertue spend.

Ne let white haires, which on my face doo grow, Seeme to your eyes of a disgracefull hewe: [ 10] Since whitenesse doth present the sweetest show, Which makes all eyes doo homage vnto you.

Old age is wise and full of constant truth; Old age well stayed from raunging humor liues: [ 15] Old age hath knowne what euer was in youth: Old age orecome, the greater honour giues. And to old age since you your selfe aspire, Let not old age disgrace my high desire.

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Which being done, he looked verie curiously vpon himselfe, somtimes fetching a little skippe, as if he had saide, his strength had not yet forsaken him. But Zelmane hauing in this time gotten some leasure to thinke for an answere; looking vpon Gy∣necya, as if she thought she did her some wrong: Madam (said she) I am not acquain∣ted with those words of disguising, neither is it the profession of an Amazon, nei∣ther [ 25] are you a partie with whom it is to bee vsed. If my seruice may please you, im∣ploy it, so long as you do me no wrong in misiudgeing of mee. Alas Zelmane (said Gynecia) I perceiue you know full little, howe percing the eyes are of a true louer. There is no one beame of those thoughts you haue planted in me, but is able to dis∣cerne a greater cloude then you doo goe in. Seeke not to conceale your selfe fur∣ther [ 30] from mee, nor force not the passion of loue into violent extremities. Nowe was Zelmane brought to an exigent, when the king, turning his eyes that waye thorow the trees, perceiued his wife and mistres togither: so that framing the most louely countenance hee could, hee came straightway towardes them; and at the first word (thanking his wife for hauing entertained Zelmane,) desired her shee [ 35] woulde now returne into the lodge, because hee had certaine matters of estate to impart to the Ladie Zelmane. The Queene (being nothing troubled with ielousie in that point) obeyed the kinges commaundement; full of raging agonies and de∣terminately bent, that as she would seeke all louing meanes to winne Zelmane, so she woulde stirre vp terrible tragedies, rather then faile of her intent. And so went [ 40] she from them to the lodge-ward, with such a battaile in her thoughts, and so deadly•• an ouerthrow giuen to her best resolutions, that euen her bodie (where the fielde was fought) was oppressed withall: making a languishing sickenesse waite vpon the triumph of passion; which the more it preuailed in her, the more it made her ielou∣sie watchfull, both ouer her daughter, and Zelmane; hauing euer one of them en∣trusted [ 45] to her owne eyes.

But as soone as Basilius was ridde of his wiues presence, falling downe on his

knees, O Lady (saide hee) which hast onely had the power to stirre vp againe those flames which had so long layne deade in mee; see in mee the power of your beau∣tie, which can make olde age come to aske counsaile of youth; and a Prince [ 5] vnconquered, to become a slaue to a stranger. And when you see that power of yours, loue that at lest in me, since it is yours, although of me you see nothing to be loued. Worthy Prince (answered Zelmane, taking him vp from his kneeling) both your manner, and your speech are so straunge vnto me, as I know not how to an∣swere it better then with silence. If silence please you (said the king) it shall neuer displease me, since my heart is wholly pledged to obey you: otherwise if you [ 10] would vouchsafe mine eares such happinesse, as to heare you, they shall conuay your words to such a mind, which is with the humblest degree of reuerence to re∣ceiue them. I disdaine not to speake to you (mightie Prince said Zelmane,) but I disdaine to speake to any matter which may bring my honor into question. And therewith, with a braue counterfeited scorne she departed from the king; leauing [ 15] him not so sorie for his short answere, as proud in himselfe that he had broken the matter. And thus did the king (feeding his minde with those thoughts) passe great time in writing verses, and making more of himselfe, then he was wont to doo: that with a little helpe, he would haue growne into a prettie kind of dotage.

But Zelmane being ridde of this louing, but little-loued company, Alas (said [ 20] she) poore Pyrocles, was there euer one, but I, that had receiued wrong, and could blame no body? that hauing more then I desire, am still in want of that I woulde? Truly Loue, I must needes say thus much on thy behalfe; thou hast imployed my loue there, where all loue is deserued; and for recompence hast sent me more loue then euer I desired. But what wilt thou doo Pyrocles? which way canst thou finde [ 25] to ridde thee of thy intricate troubles? To her whom I would be knowne to, I liue in darkenesse: and to her am reuealed, from whom I would be most secret. What shift shall I finde against the diligent loue of Basilius? what shield against the vio∣lent passions of Gynecia? And if that be done, yet how am I the neerer to quench the fire that consumes me? Well, well, sweete Philoclea, my whole confidence must [ 30] be builded in thy diuine spirit, which cannot be ignorant of the cruell wound I haue receiued by you.

But as sicke folkes, when they are alone, thinke companie would relieue them, and yet hauing company do find it noysome; changing willingly outward obiects, when indeed the euill is inward: So poore Zelmane was no more weery of Basilius, [ 35] then she was of her selfe, when Basilius was gone: and euer the more, the more she turned her eyes to become her owne iudges. Tyred wherewith, she longed to meete her friende Dorus; that vpon the shoulders of friendship she might lay the burthen of sorrow: and therefore went toward the other lodge: where among certaine Beeches she found Dorus, apparelled in flanen, with a Goats skin cast vpon [ 40] him, and a garland of Laurell mixt with Cypres leaues on his head, wayting on his master Dametas, who at that time was teaching him how with his sheephooke to catch a wanton Lambe, and how with the same to cast a litle clod at any one that strayed out of companie. And while Dorus was practising, one might see Dametas holding his hand vnder his girdle behind him, nodding from the wast vpwards, and [ 45] swearing he neuer knew man go more aukewardly to worke: and that they might talke of booke-learning what they would; but for his part, he neuer saw more vn∣featie fellowes, then great clearks were.

But Zelmanes comming saued Dorus from further chiding. And so she begin∣ning to speake with him of the number of his masters sheepe, and which Prouince of Arcadia bare the finest wooll, drewe him on to follow her in such countrie dis∣courses, till (being out of Dametas hearing) with such vehemencie of passion, as though her hart would clime into her mouth, to take her tongues office, she decla∣red [ 5] vnto him, vpon what briers the roses of her affections grew: how time still see∣med to forget her, bestowing no one houre of comfort vpon her; she remaining stil in one plight of ill fortune, sauing so much worse, as continuance of euill doth in it selfe increase euill. Alas my Dorus (said she) thou seest how long and languishingly the weekes are past ouer vs since our last talking. And yet am I the same, miserable [ 10] I, that I was: onely stronger in longing, and weaker in hoping. Then fell she to so pitifull a declaration of the insupportablenes of her desires, that Dorus eares (not able to shew what woundes that discourse gaue vnto them) procured his eyes with teares to giue testimonie, how much they suffered for her suffering: till passion (a most cumbersome guest to it selfe) made Zelmane (the sooner to shake it off) ear∣nestly [ 15] intreate Dorus, that he also (with like freedome of discourse) would bestow a Mappe of his little world, vpon her; that she might see, whether it were troubled with such vnhabitable climes of colde despaires, and hot rages, as hers was. And so walking vnder a few Palme trees, (which being louing in their own nature, seemed to giue their shadow the willinglier, because they held discourse of loue) Dorus [ 20] thus entred to the description of his fortune. Alas (said he) deare Cosin, that it hath pleased the high powers to throw vs to such an estate, as the onely entercourse of our true friendship, must be a bartring of miseries. For my part, I must confesse indeede, that from a huge darkenes of sorrowes, I am crept (I cannot say to a light-somnes, but) to a certaine dawning, or rather, peeping out of some possibilitie of [ 25] comfort: But woe is me, so farre from the marke of my desires, that I rather thinke it such a light, as comes through a small hole to a dungeon, that the miserable cai∣tife may the better remember the light, of which he is depriued: or like a scholler, who is onely come to that degree of knowledge, to finde himselfe vtterly ignorant. But thus stands it with me: After that by your meanes I was exalted to serue in [ 30] yonder blessed lodge, for a while I had, in the furnace of my agonies, this refre∣shing; that (because of the seruice I had done in killing of the Beare) it pleased the Princesse (in whome indeede statelines shines through courtesie) to let fall some gratious looke vpon me. Sometimes to see my exercises, sometimes to heare my songs. For my part, my hart would not suffer me to omit any occasion, whereby I [ 35] might make the incomparable Pamela, see how much extraordinarie deuotion I bare to her seruice: and withall, straue to appeare more worthy in her sight; that small desert, ioyned to so great affection, might preuaile something in the wisest Ladie. But too well (alas) I found, that a shepheards seruice was but considered of as from a shepheard, and the acceptation limitted to no further proportion, then of [ 40] a good seruant. And when my countenance had once giuen notice, that there lay affection vnder it, I sawe straight, Maiesty (sitting in the throne of Beautie) drawe foorth such a sword of iust disdaine, that I remayned as a man thunder-striken; not daring, no not able, to behold that power. Now, to make my estate knowen, seemed againe impossible, by reason of the suspitiousnes of Dametas, Miso, and my young [ 45] Mistresse, Mopsa. For, Dametas (according to the constitution of a dull head) thinkes no better way to shew himselfe wise, then by suspecting euery thing in his way.

Which suspition Miso (for the hoggish shrewdnesse of her braine) and Mopsa (for a very vnlikely enuie she hath stumbled vpon, against the Princesses vnspeakeable beautie) were very glad to execute. So that I (finding my seruice by this meanes lightlie regarded, my affection despised, and my selfe vnknowen) remayned no ful∣ler [ 5] of desire, then voyd of counsell how to come to my desire. Which (alas) if these trees could speake, they might well witnesse. For, many times haue I stoode here, bewailing my selfe vnto them: many times haue I, leaning to yonder Palme, admi∣red the blessednes of it, that it could beare Loue without sence of paine. Many times, when my masters cattle came hether to chewe their cudde, in this fresh place, [ 10] I might see the young Bull testifie his loue. But how? with proud lookes, and ioy∣fulnes. O wretched mankind (said I then to my selfe) in whom wit (which should be the gouerner of his welfare) becomes the traitor to his blessednes. These beasts, like children to nature, inherit her blessings quietly; we, like bastards, are layd a∣broad, euen as foundlings to be trayned vp by griefe and sorrow. Their mindes [ 15] grudge not at their bodies comfort, nor their sences are letted from enioying their obiects: we haue the impediments of honor, and the torments of conscience. Truely in such cogi••ations haue I somtimes so long stood, that me thought my feet began to grow into the ground, with such a darkenes and heauines of minde, that I might easilie haue bene perswaded to haue resigned ouer my very essence. But [ 20] Loue, (which one time layeth burthens, another time giueth wings) when I was at the lowest of my downward thoughts, pulled vp my hart to remember, that no∣thing is atchieued before it be throughlie attempted; and that lying still doth ne∣uer goe forward: and that therefore it was time, now or neuer, to sharpen my in∣uention, to pearce thorow the hardnes of this enterprise; neuer ceasing to assemble [ 25] all my conceites, one after the other, how to manifest both my mind and estate. Till at last, I lighted and resolued on this way, which yet perchaunce you will thinke was a way rather to hide it. I began to counterfeite the extremest loue towards Mopsa, that might be: and as for the loue, so liuely it was indeed within me, (al∣though to another subiect) that litle I needed to counterfait any notable demon∣strations [ 30] of it: and so making a contrariety the place of my memory, in her fowlnes I beheld Pamelas fayrenesse, still looking on Mopsa, but thinking on Pamela; as if I sawe my Sunne shine in a puddled water: I cryed out of nothing but Mopsa: to Mopsa my attendance was directed: to Mopsa the best fruites I could gather were brought: to Mopsa it seemed still that mine eye conueyed my tongue. So that [ 35] Mopsa was my saying; Mopsa was my singing; Mopsa, (that is onely suteable in laying a foule complexion vpon a filthy fauour, setting foorth both in sluttishnes) she was the load-starre of my life, she the blessing of mine eyes, she the ouerthrowe of my desires, and yet the recompence of my ouerthrowe; she the sweetnesse of my hart, euen sweetning the death, which her sweetnesse drew vpō me. In summe, [ 40] what soeuer I thought of Pamela, that I saide of Mopsa; whereby as I gatte my maisters good-will, who before spited me, fearing lest I should winne the Princesse fauour from him, so did the same make the Princesse the better content to allow me her presence: whether indeede it were, that a certaine sparke of noble indig∣nation did rise in her, not to suffer such a baggage to winne away any thing of [ 45] hers, how meanely soeuer she reputed of it; or rather (as I thinke) my words be∣ing so passionate; and shooting so quite contrarie from the markes of Mopsaes worthinesse, she perceiued well enough, whither they were directed: and therfore

being so masked, she was contented, as a sporte of witte to attend them. Where∣upon one day determining to finde some means to tell (as of a third person) the tale of mine owne loue, and estate, finding Mopsa (like a Cuckoo by a Nightingale) alone with Pamela, I came in vnto them, and with a face (I am sure) full of clowdy fancies, tooke a harpe, and soong this song. [ 5]

SInce so mine eyes are subiect to your sight, That in your sight they fixed haue my braine; Since so my harte is filled with that light, That onely light doth all my life maintaine; [ 10]

Since in sweete you all goods so richly raigne, That where you are no wished good can want; Since so your liuing image liues in me, That in my selfe your selfe true loue doth plant; [ 15] How can you him vnworthy then decree, In whose chiefe parte your worthes implanted be?

The song being ended, which I had often broken of in the middest with grie∣uous sighes, which ouertooke euery verse I sang, I let fall my harpe from me; and [ 20] casting my eye sometime vpon Mopsa, but setling my sight principally vpon Pa∣mela, And is it the onely fortune most bewtifull Mopsa (said I) of wretched Dorus, that fortune must be the measure of his mind? Am I onely he that because I am in miserie, more miserie must be laid vpon me? must that which should be cause of compassion, become an argument of cruelty against me? Alas excellent Mopsa, [ 25] consider, that a vertuous Prince requires the life of his meanest subiect, and the hea∣uenly Sunne disdaines not to giue light to the smallest worme. O Mopsa, Mopsa, if my hart could be as manifest to you, as it is vncomfortable to me, I doubt not the height of my thoughts should well counteruaile the lownesse of my qualitie. Who hath not heard of the greatnes of your estate? who seeth not, that your estate is [ 30] much excelled with that sweet vniting of all beauties, which remaineth and dwel∣leth with you? who knowes not, that all these are but ornaments of that diuine sparke within you, which being descended from heauen, could not els-where picke out so sweete a mansion? But if you will knowe what is the bande that ought to knit all these excellencies together, it is a kinde mercyfulnesse to such a one, as is in [ 35] his soule deuoted to those perfections. Mopsa (who already had had a certaine smackring towards me) stood all this while with her hand sometimes before her face, but most commonly with a certaine speciall grace of her owne, wagging her lips, and grinning in steede of smiling: but all the words I could get of her, was, wrieng her waste, and thrusting out her chinne, In faith you iest with me: you are [ 40] a merry man indeede. But the euer-pleasing Pamela (that well found the Comedie would be marred, if she did not helpe Mopsa to her part) was content to vrge a little further of me. Maister Dorus (said the faire Pamela) me thinks you blame your for∣tune very wrongfully, since the fault is not in Fortune, but in you that cannot frame your selfe to your fortune: and as wrongfully do require Mopsa to so great [ 45] a disparagement as to her Fathers seruaunt; since she is not worthy to be loued, that hath not some feeling of her owne worthines. I staied a good while after her

words, in hope she would haue continued her speech (so great a delight I receaued in hearing her) but seeing her say no further, (with a quaking all ouer my body) I thus answered her. Ladie, most worthie of all dutie, how falles it out that you in whom all vertue shines, will take the patronage of fortune, the onely rebellious [ 5] handmaide against vertue? Especially, since before your eyes, you haue a pittifull spectacle of her wickednesse, a forlorne creature, which must remaine not such as I am, but such as she makes me, since she must be the ballance of worthinesse or disparagement. Yet alas, if the condemned man (euen at his death) haue leaue to speake, let my mortall wound purchase thus much confideration; since the [ 10] perfections are such in the partie I loue, as the feeling of them cannot come into any vnnoble hart; shall that hart, which doth not onely feele them, but hath all the working of his life placed in them, shall that hart I saie, lifted vp to such a height, be counted base? O let not an excellent spirit doo it selfe such wrong, as to thinke, where it is placed, imbraced, and loued; there can be any vnworthinesse, since [ 15] the weakest mist is not easilier driuen away by the Sunne, then that is chased away with so high thoughts. I will not denie (answered the gratious Pamela) but that the loue you beare to Mopsa, hath brought you to the consideration of her ver∣tues, and that consideration may haue made you the more vertuous, and so the more worthie: But euen that then (you must confesse) you haue receiued of her, [ 20] and so are rather gratefully to thanke her, then to presse any further, till you bring something of your owne whereby to claime it. And truely Dorus, I must in Mopsaes behalfe say thus much to you, that if her beauties haue so ouer∣taken you, it becomes a true Loue to haue your harte more set vpon her good then your owne, & to beare a tenderer respect to her honour, then your satisfaction. [ 25] Now by my hallidame, Madame (said Mopsa, throwing a great number of sheeps eyes vpon me) you haue euen touched mine owne minde to the quicke, forsooth. I (finding that the pollicie that I had vsed, had at lest wise procured thus much happinesse vnto me, as that I might euen in my Ladies presence, discouer the sore which had deepely festered within me, and that she could better conceaue my [ 30] reasons applied to Mopsa, then she would haue vouchsafed them, whilest her selfe was a partie) thought good to pursue on my good beginning, vsing this fit occasion of Pamelaes wit, and Mopsaes ignorance. Therefore with an humble pearcing eye, looking vpon Pamela, as if I had rather bene condemned by her mouth, then highly exalted by the other, turning my selfe to Mopsa, but kee∣ping [ 35] mine eye where it was, faire Mopsa (said I) well doo I finde by the wise knit∣ting together of your answere, that any disputation I can vse is asmuch too weake, as I vnworthy. I find my loue shalbe proued no loue, without I leue to loue, being too vnfit a vessell in whom so high thoughts should be engraued. Yet since the Loue I beare you, hath so ioyned it selfe to the best part of my life, as the one can [ 40] not depart, but that th'other will follow, before I seeke to obey you in making my last passage, let me know which is my vnworthines, either of mind, estate, or both? Mopsa was about to say, in neither; for her hart I thinke tumbled with ouermuch kindnesse, when Pamela with a more fauourable countenance then before (finding how apt I was to fall into despaire) told me, I might therein haue answered my [ 45] selfe; for besides that it was graunted me, that the inward feeling of Mopsaes per∣fections had greatly beautified my minde, there was none could denie, but that my minde and bodie deserued great allowance. But Dorus (sayd she) you must be

so farre maister of your loue, as to consider, that since the iudgement of the world stands vpon matter of fortune, and that the sexe of womankind of all other is most bound to haue regardfull eie to mens iudgements, it is not for vs to play the philo∣sophers, in seeking out your hidden vertues: since that, which in a wise prince would be counted wisdome, in vs will be taken for a light-grounded affection: so is not [ 5] one thing, one, done by diuers persons. There is no man in a burning feuer feeles so great contentment in cold water greedily receiued (which assoone as the drinke ceaseth, the rage reneweth) as poore I found my soule refreshed with her sweetly pronounced words; and newly, and more violently againe enflamed, assoone as she had closed vp her delightfull speech, with no lesse well graced silence. But re∣membring [ 10] in my selfe that aswell the Souldier dieth which standeth still, as he that giues the brauest onset: and seeing that to the making vp of my fortune, there wan∣ted nothing so much as the making knowne of mine estate, with a face well witnes∣sing how deeply my soule was possessed, and with the most submissiue behauior, that a thralled hart could expresse, euen as my words had bene too thicke for my [ 15] mouth, at length spake to this purpose. Alas, most worthy Princesse (said I) and do not then your owne sweet words sufficiently testifie, that there was neuer man could haue a iuster action against filthy fortune, then I, since all other things being granted me, her blindnesse is my onely let? O heauenly God, I would either she had such eyes as were able to discerne my deserts, or I were blind not to see the daily [ 20] cause of my misfortune. But yet (said I) most honoured Lady, if my miserable spee∣ches haue not already cloied you, and that the verie presence of such a wretch be∣come not hatefull in your eyes: let me reply thus much further against my mortall "sentence, by telling you a storie, which happened in this same country long since (for woes make the shortest time seeme long) whereby you shall see that my estate [ 25] is not so contemptible, but that a Prince hath bene content to take the like vpon him, and by that onely hath aspired to enioy a mightie Princesse. Pamela gratiously harkened, and I told my tale in this sort.

In the countrie of Thessalia, (alas why name I that accursed country, which brings forth nothing, but matters for tragedies? but name it I must) in Thes∣salia [ 30] (I say) there was (well may I say, there was) a Prince (no, no Prince, whome bondage wholly possessed; but yet accounted a Prince, and) named Musidorus. O Musidorus, Musidorus; but to what serue exclamations, where there are no eares to receiue the sound? This Musidorus, being yet in the tendrest age, his worthy father paied to nature (with a violent death) her last duties, leauing his childe to the faith [ 35] of his friends, and the proofe of time: death gaue him not such pangs as the fore∣sight-full care he had of his silly successour. And yet if in his foresight he could haue seene so much, happie was that good Prince in his timely departure, which barred him from the knowledge of his sonnes miseries, which his knowledge could neither haue preuented, nor relieued. The young Musidorus (being thus, [ 40] as for the first pledge of the destenies good will, depriued of his principall stay) was yet for some yeares after (as if the starres would breath themselues for a greater mis∣chiefe) lulled vp in as much good luck, as the heedfull loue of his dolefull mother, and the f••orishing estate of his country could breed vnto him.

But when the time now came, that miserie seemed to be ripe for him, because [ 45] he had age to knowe misery, I thinke there was a conspiracy in all heauenly and earthly things, to frame fit occasions to leade him vnto it. His people (to whom all

matters in foretime were odious) beganne to wish in their beloued Prince, ex∣perience by trauaile: his deare mother (whose eyes were held open, onely with the ioy of looking vpon him) did now dispense with the comfort of her wi∣dowhead life, desiring the same her subiectes did, for the increase of her sonnes [ 5] worthinesse. And hereto did Musidorus owne vertue (see how vertue can bee a minister to mischiefe) sufficiently prouoke him: for indeed thus much I must say for him, although the likenesse of our mishaps makes me presume to patterne my selfe vnto him) that well-doing was at that time his scope, from which no faint pleasure could with-hold him. But the present occasion which did knit al this toge∣ther, [ 10] was his vncle the king of Macedon; who hauing lately before gotten such victo∣ries, as were beyond expectation, did at this time send both for the Prince his sonne (brought vp together, to auoid the warres, with Musidorus) and for Musidorus him∣selfe, that his ioy might be the more full, hauing such partakers of it. But alas, to what a sea of miseries my plaintfull toong doth lead me; & thus out of breath, rather with [ 15] that I thought, then that I said, I stayed my speech, til Pamela shewing by countenāce that such was her pleasure, I thus continued it. These two young Princes to satisfie the king, tooke their way by sea, towards Thrace, whether they would needs go with a Nauie to succour him: he being at that time before Bizantium with a mighty Army beseeging it; wher at that time his court was. But whē the cōspired heauens had got∣ten [ 20] this Subiect of their wrath vpō so fit a place as the sea was, they streight began to breath out in boystrous winds some part of their malice against him; so that with the losse of al his Nauie, he only with the Prince his cosin, were cast a land, farre off from the place whether their desires would haue guided them. O cruell winds in your vn∣considerate rages, why either began you this furie, or why did you not end it in his [ 25] end? But your cruelty was such, as you would spare his life for many deathfull tor∣mēts. To tell you what pittiful mishaps fel to the young Prince of Macedon his cosē I should too much fill your eares with strange horrors; neither will I stay vpō those laborsome aduentures, nor loathsome misaduentures to which, and through which his fortune & courage cōducted him; My speach hastneth it selfe to come to the ful∣point [ 30] of Musidorus infortunes. For as wee find the most pestilent diseases do gather into themselues all the infirmities with which the body before was annoyed; so did his last misery embrace in the extremitie of it selfe all his former mischiefes.

Arcadia, Arcadia was the place prepared to be the stage of his endlesse ouer-throw. Arcadia was, (alas wel might I say it is) the charmed circle, wher all his spirits for euer [ 35] should be enchaūted. For here (& no where els) did his infected eyes make his mind know, what power heauenly beauty hath to throw it down to hellish agonies. Here, here did he see the Arcadian Kings eldest daughter in whom he forthwith placed so all his hopes of ioy, and ioyfull parts of his heart, that he left in himselfe nothing, but a maze of longing, and a dungeon of sorrow. But alas what can saying make them [ 40] beleue, whom seeing cannot perswade? Those paines must be felt before they cā be vnderstood; no outward vtterance can command a conceipt. Such vvas as then the state of the King, as it vvas no time by direct meanes to seeke her. And such vvas the state of his captiued vvill, as he could delay no time of seeking her.

In this intangled case, he cloathed himselfe in a shepheards vveede, that vnder [ 45] the basenesse of that forme, he might at lest haue free accesse to feed his eyes vvith that, vvhich should at length eate vp his hart. In vvhich doing, thus much vvithout doubt he hath manifested, that this estate is not alvvayes to be reiected, since vn∣der that vaile there may be hidden things to be esteemed. And if he might vvith

taking on a shepherds looke cast vp his eyes to the fairest Princesse Nature in that time created; the like, nay the same desire of mine neede no more to be disdained, or held for disgracefull. But now alas mine eyes waxe dimme, my toong beginnes to falter, and my hart to want force to helpe, either with the feeling remembrance I haue, in what heape of miseries the caitife Prince lay at this time buried. Pardon [ 5] therefore most excellent Princesse, if I cut off the course of my dolorous tale, since if I be vnderstood, I haue saide enough, for the defence of my basenesse; and for that which after might befal to that patterne of ill fortune, (the matters are too mon∣strous for my capacitie) his hatefull destinies must best declare their owne worke∣manship. [ 10]

Thus hauing deliuered my tale in this perplexed manner, to the end the Prin∣cesse might iudge that hee ment himselfe, who spake so feelingly; her aunswere was both strange, and in some respect comfortable. For would you thinke it? shee hath heard heretofore of vs both, by meanes of the valiant Prince Plangus, and par∣ticularly of our casting away: which she (following my owne stile) thus delicately [ 15] brought foorth. You haue told (said she) Dorus, a prettie tale; but you are much de∣ceiued in the latter end of it. For the prince Musidorus with his cosen Pyrocles did both perish vpon the coast of Laconia; as a noble gentleman, called Plangus (who was well acquainted with the historie) did assure my father. O how that speach of hers did poure ioyes in my hart? ô blessed name (thought I) of mine, since thou [ 20] hast bene in that toong, and passed through those lips, though I can neuer hope to approch them. As for Pyrocles (said I) I will not denie it, but that he is perished: (which I said, least sooner suspition might arise of your being here, then your selfe would haue it) and yet affirmed no lye vnto her, since I onely said, I would not deny it. But for Musidorus (said I) I perceiue indeed you haue either heard or read the sto∣ry [ 25] of that vnhappy Prince; for this was the verie obiection, which that peerelesse Princesse did make vnto him, when he sought to appeare such as he was before her wisdome: and thus as I haue read it faire written in the certaintie of my knowledge he might answere her, that indeed the ship wherein he came, by a treason was peri∣shed, and therefore that Plangus might easily be deceaued: but that he himselfe was [ 30] cast vpon the coast of Laconia, where hee was taken vp by a couple of shepheardes, who liued in those dayes famous; for that both louing one faire maide, they yet re∣mained constant frinds; one of whose songs not long since was song before you by the shepheard Lamon, and brought by them to a noble-mans house, neere Manti∣nea, whose sonne had a little before his mariage, bene taken prisoner, and by the [ 35] helpe of this Prince, Musidorus (though naming himselfe by an other name) was deliuered. Now these circumlocutions I did vse, because of the one side I knewe the Princesse would knowe well the parties I ment; and of the other, if I should haue named Strephon, Claius, Kalander, and Clitophon, perhappes it would haue rubd some coniecture into the heauie heade of Mistresse Mopsa. [ 40]

And therefore (said I) most diuine Lady, he iustly was thus to argue against such suspitions; that the Prince might easily by those parties be satisfied, that vpon that wrack such a one was taken vp: and therefore that Plangus might well erre, who knew not of anies taking vp againe that hee that was so preserued, brought good to∣kens to be one of the two, chiefe of that wracked companie: which two since Plan∣gus [ 45] knew to be Musidorus and Pyrocles, hee must needes bee one of them, although (as I saide) vpon a foretaken vowe, he was otherwise at that time called. Besides, the

Princesse must needes iudge, that no lesse then a Prince durst vndertake such an enterprise, which (though he might gette the fauour of the Princesse) he conld ne∣uer defend with lesse then a Princes power, against the force of Arcadia. Lastly, (saide he) for a certaine demonstration, he presumed to shew vnto the Princesse a [ 5] marke he had on his face, as I might (said I) shew this of my neck to the rare Mopsa: and withall, shewed my necke to them both, where (as you know) there is a redde spotte, bearing figure (as they tell me) of a Lyons pawe, that shee may ascertaine her selfe, that I am Menalcas brother. And so did he, beseeching her to send some one she might trust, into Thssalia, secretly to bee aduertised, whether the age, [ 10] the complexion, and particularly that notable signe, did not fully agree with their Prince Musidorus. Doo you not know further (saide she, with a setled counte∣nance, not accusing any kind of inward motion) of that storie. Alas no, (said I) for euen here the Historiographer stopped, saying, The rest belonged to Astrologie. And therewith, thinking her silent imaginations began to worke vpon somewhat, [ 15] to mollifie them (as the nature of Musick is to do) and withall, to shew what kinde of shepheard I was, I took vp my Harpe, and sang these few verses.

MY sheepe are thoughts, which I both guide and serue: Their pasture is faire hilles of fruitlesse Loue: [ 20] On barren sweetes they feede, and feeding sterue: I waile their lotte, but will not other proue. My sheepehooke is wanne hope, which all vpholdes: My weedes, Desire, cut out in endlesse foldes. What wooll my sheepe shall beare, whiles thus they liue, [ 25] In you it is, you must the iudgement giue.

And then, partly to bring Mopsa againe to the matter (lest she should too much take heed to our discourses) but principally, if it were possible, to gather some com∣fort out of her answeares, I kneeled downe to the Princesse, and humblie besought [ 30] her to moue Mopsa in my behalfe, that she would vnarme her noble hart of that stee∣ly resistance against the sweet blowes of Loue: that since all her parts were decked with some particular ornament; her face with beautie, her head with wisdome, her eyes with maiestie, her countenance with gracefulnes, her lippes with louelines, her tongue with victorie; that shee woulde make her hart the throne of pitie, being the [ 35] most excellent rayment of the most excellent part.

Pamela, without shew either of fauour or disdaine, either of heeding or neglec∣ting what I had said, turned her speech to Mopsa, and with such a voice and action, as might shewe shee spake of a matter which little did concerne her, Take heede to your selfe (saide shee) Mopsa, for your shepheard can speake well: but truely, [ 40] if he doo fully proue himselfe such as he saith, I mean, the honest shepheard Menal∣chas his brother•• and heire I knowe no reason why you shoulde thinke scorne of him. Mopsa though (in my conscience) shee were euen then farre spent towards me, yet she answered her, that for all my queint speeches, shee woulde keepe her honestie close inough: And that as for the way of matrimony, shee woulde [ 45] steppe neuer a foote further, till my Maister her father had spoken the whole word him selfe, no shee woulde not. But euer and anon turning her muzzell toward me, shee threwe such a prospect vpon mee, as might well haue giuen a surfet to any

weake louers stomacke. But Lord what a foole am I, to mingle that driuels speeches among my noble thoughts? but because shee was an Actor in this Tragedie, to geue you a full knowledge, and to leaue nothing (that I can remember) vnre∣peated.

Now the Princesse being about to withdrawe her selfe from vs, I tooke a Iewell [ 5] made in the figure of a Crab-fish, which, because it lookes one way and goes ano∣ther, I thought it did fitly patterne out my looking to Mopsa, but bending to Pamela: The word about it was, By force, not choice; and still kneeling, besought the Prin∣cesse that she would vouchsafe to giue it Mopsa, and with the blessednes of her hande to make acceptable vnto her that toye which I had founde, followinge of [ 10] late an acquaintaunce of mine at the plowe. For (said I) as the earth was turned vp, the plowe-share lighted vpon a great stone: we puld that vp, and so found both that, and some other prety thinges which we had deuided betwixt vs.

Mopsa was benummed with ioy when the Princesse gaue it her: but in the Prin∣cesse I could finde no apprehension of what I either said or did, but with a calme [ 15] carelesnesse letting each thing slide, iustly as we doo by their speeches, (who neither in matter nor person doo any way belong vnto vs) which kinde of colde temper, mixt with that lightning of her naturall maiestie, is of all others most terrible vnto me: for yet if I found she contemned mee, I would desperatly labour both in for∣tune and vertue to ouercome it; if she onely misdoubted me, I were in heauen; for [ 20] quickly I woulde bring sufficient assurance: lastly, if shee hated me, yet I shoulde know what passion to deale with; and either with infinitenes of desert I woulde take away the fewell from that fire; or if nothing would serue, then I vvould giue her my hart-bloud to quench it. But this cruell quietnes, neither retiring to mislike nor proceeding to fauour; gratious, but gratious still after one manner; all her [ 25] courtesies hauing this engrauen in them, that what is done, is for vertues sake, not for the parties (euer keeping her course like the Sun, who neither for our pray∣ses, nor curses, will spurre or stoppe his horses). This (I say) heauenlynes of hers•• (for how so euer my miserie is I cannot but so entitle it) is so impossible to reach vn∣to, that I almost begin to submitte my selfe to the tyrannie of despaire, not knowing [ 30] any way of perswasion, where wisdome seemes to be vnsensible. I haue appeared to her eyes, like my selfe, by a deuice I vsed with my master, perswading him, that we two might put on certaine rich apparrel I had prouided, and so practise some thing on horsback before Pamela, telling him, it was apparel I had gotten for playing well the part of a King in a Tragedie at Athens: my horse indeed was it I had left at Menal∣cas [ 35] house, and Dametas got one by friendship out of the Princes stable. But how so∣euer I showe, I am no base bodie, all I doo is but to beate a rocke and get fome.

But as Dorus was about to tell further, Dametas (who came whistling, and coun∣ting vpō his fingers, how many loade of hay his seuenteen fat oxen eat vp in a yeare) [ 40] desired Zelmane from the King that she would come into the lodge, where they stay∣ed for her. Alas (saide Dorus, taking his leaue) the sum is this, that you may well finde you haue beaten your sorrow against such a wall, which with the force of re∣bound may well make your sorrow stronger. But Zelmane turning her speach to Da∣metas, I shall grow (saide shee) skilfull in country matters, if I haue often conference [ 45] with your seruaunt. In sooth (answered Dametas with a gracelesse skorne) the Lad may proue well enough, if hee ouersoon thinke not too well of himselfe, and will

beare away that hee heareth of his elders. And therewith as they walked to the other lodge, to make Zelmane find shee might haue spent her time better with him, he began with a wilde Methode to runne ouer all the art of husbandrie: especi∣ally imploying his tongue about well dunging of a fielde: while poore Zelmane [ 5] yeelded her eares to those tedious strokes, not warding them so much as with a∣ny one answere, till they came to Basilius, and Gynecia, who attended for her in a coach to carrie her abroad to see some sportes prepared for her. Basilius, and Gyne∣cia sitting in the one ende, placed her at the other, with her left side to Philoclea. Zelmane was moued in her minde, to haue kissed their feete for the fauour of so [ 10] blessed a seate: for the narrownesse of the coach made them ioine from the foote to the shoulders very close together; the truer touch whereof though it were bar∣red by their enuious apparell, yet as a perfect Magnes, though but in an iuorie boxe will thorow the boxe sende foorth his imbracing vertue to a beloued needle; so this imparadised neighbourhood made Zelmanes soule cleaue vnto her, both tho∣row [ 15] the iuory case of her body, and the apparell which did ouer-clowd it. All the bloud of Zelmanes body stirring in her, as wine will do when suger is hastely put in∣to it, seeking to sucke the sweetnes of the beloued guest; her hart, like a lion new imprisoned, seeing him that restraines his libertie, before the grate; not panting, but striuing violently (if it had bene possible) to haue leapt into the lappe of Phi∣loclea. [ 20] But Dametas, euen then proceeding from being maister of a carte, to bee doctor of a coach, not a little prowd in himselfe, that his whippe at that time gui∣ded the rule of Arcadia, draue the coach (the couer whereof was made with such ioints, that as they might (to auoid the weather) pull it vp close when they listed, so when they would they might put each ende downe, and remaine as discouered [ 25] and open sighted as on horsebacke) till vpon the side of the forrest they had both greyhounds, spaniels, and hounds: whereof the first might seeme the Lordes, the second the Gentlemen, and the last the Yeomen of dogges; a cast of Merlins there was besides, which flying of a gallant height ouer certaine bushes, woulde beate the birdes (that rose) downe vnto the bushes, as Falcons will doo wilde-foule [ 30] ouer a riuer. But the sporte which for that daie Basilius would principallie shewe to Zelmane, was the mountie at a Hearne, which getting vp on his wagling winges vvith paine, till he vvas come to some height, (as though the aire next to the earth vvere not fit for his great bodie to flie thorow) vvas now growen to diminish the sight of himselfe, and to giue example to great persons, that the higher they be, the [ 35] lesse they should shovv: vvhen a Ierfaulcon vvas cast of after her, vvho streight spy∣ing vvhere the pray vvas, fixing her eie vvith desire, and guiding her vving by her eie, vsed no more strength then industry. For as a good builder to a hie tower vvill not make his stayre vpright, but vvinding almost the full compasse about, that the steepnes be the more vnsensible: so shee, seeing the tovvring of her pursued chase, [ 40] vvent circkling, and compassing about, rising so vvith the lesse sence of rising; and yet finding that vvay scantly serue the greedines of her hast, as an ambitious bodie vvill go far out of the direct vvay, to vvin to a point of height vvhich he desires; so would shee (as it were) turne taile to the Heron, and flie quite out another way, but all was to returne in a higher pitch; which once gotten, she would either beate [ 45] with cruell assaults the Heron, who now was driuen to the best defence of force, since ••light would not serue; or els clasping with him, come downe together, to be parted by the ouer-partiall beholders.

Diuers of which flights Basilius shewing to Zelmane, thus was the richesse of the time spent, and the day deceassed before it was thought of, till night like a degene∣rating successour made his departure the better remembred. And therefore (so constrained) they willed Dametas to driue homeward, who (halfe sleeping, halfe musing about the mending of a wine-presse) guided the horses so ill, that the [ 5] wheele comming ouer a great stub of a tree, it ouerturned the coach. Which though it fell violently vpon the side where Zelmane and Gynecia sat, yet for Zel••anes part, she would haue bene glad of the fall, which made her beare the sweete burthen of Philoclea, but that shee feared shee might receaue some hurt. But indeede neither shee did, nor any of the rest, by reason they kept their armes and legs within the [ 10] coach, sauing Gynecia, who with the onely bruze of the fall had her shoulder put out of ioinct; which though by one of the Faulkeners cunning, it was set well againe, yet with much paine was she brought to the lodge; and paine (fetching his ordina∣ry companion, a feuer with him draue her to entertaine them both in her bedde.

But neither was the feuer of such impatient heate, as the inwarde plague-sore of [ 15] her affection, nor the paine halfe so noysome, as the iealousie shee conceaued of her daughter Philoclea, lest this time of her sicknesse might giue apt occasion to Zelmane, whom shee misdoubted. Therefore she called Philoclea to her, and though it were late in the night, commaūded her in her eare to go to the other lodge, and send Miso to her, with whom she would speak, and shee lie with her sister Pamela. The meane [ 20] while Gynecia kept Zelmane with her, because she would be sure, she should be out of the lodge, before she licenced Zelmane. Philoclea not skild in any thing better then obedience, went quietly downe; and the Moone then full (not thinking skorne to be a torch-bearer to such beautie) guided her steppes, whose motions beare a mind which bare in it selfe farre more stirring motions. And alas (sweete Philoclea) how [ 25] hath my penne til now forgot thy passions, since to thy memorie principally all this long matter is intended? pardon the slacknes to come to those woes, which hauing caused in others, thou didst feele in thy selfe.

The sweete minded Philoclea was in their degree of wel doing, to whom the not knowing of euill serueth for a ground of vertue, and hold their inward powers in [ 30] better forme with an vnspotted simplicitie, then many, who rather cunningly seeke to know what goodnes is, then willingly take into themselues the following of it. But as that sweet and simple breath of heauenly goodnesse, is the easier to bee alte∣red, because it hath not passed through the worldlie wickednesse, nor feelingly found the euill, that euill caries with it; so now the Ladie Philoclea (whose eyes and [ 35] senses had receaued nothing, but according as the naturall course of each thing re∣quired; whose tender youth had obediently liued vnder her parents behests, with∣out framing out of her owne will the fore-chosing of any thing) when now shee came to appoint, wherein her iudgement was to be practized, in knowing faultines by his first tokens, she was like a yong faune, who comming in the wind of the hun∣ters, [ 40] doth not know whether it be a thing or no to bee eschewed; whereof at this time she began to get a costly experience. For after that Zelmane had a while liued in the lodge with her, and that her onely being a noble straunger had bred a kind of heedfull attention; her comming to that lonely place (where she had no body but her parents) a willingnes of conuersation; her wit & behauiour, a liking and silent [ 45] admiration; at length the excellency of her naturall gifts, ioined with the extreme shewes she made of most deuout honouring Philoclea, (carying thus in one person

the only two bands of good will, louelines and louingnes) brought forth in her hart a yeelding to a most friendly affection; which when it had gotten so full pos∣session of the keies of her mind, that it would receaue no message from her senses, without that affection were the interpreter; then streight grew an exceeding de∣light [ 5] still to be with her, with an vnmeasurable liking of all that Zelmane did: matters being so turned in her, that where at first, liking her manners did breed good-will, now good-will became the chiefe cause of liking her manners: so that within a while Zelmane was not prized for her demeanure, but the demeanure was prized because it was Zelmanes. Then followed that most naturall effect of conforming [ 10] ones selfe to that, which she did like, and not onely wishing to be her selfe such an other in all things, but to ground an imitation vpon so much an esteemed authori∣tie: so that the next degree was to marke all Zelmanes dooings, speeches, and fashi∣ons, and to take them into her selfe, as a patterne of worthie proceeding. Which when once it was enacted, not onely by the comminaltie of Passions, but agreed [ 15] vnto by her most noble Thoughts, and that by Reason it selfe (not yet experienced in the issues of such matters) had granted his royall assent; then Friendship (a dili∣gent officer) tooke care to see the statute thorowly obserued. Then grew on that not onely she did imitate the sobernes of her countenance, the gracefulnesse of her speech, but euen their particular gestures: so that as Zelmane did often eye her, [ 20] she would often eye Zelmane; and as Zelmanes eyes would deliuer a submissiue, but vehement desire in their looke, she, though as yet she had not the desire in her, yet should her eyes answere in like pearcing kindnesse of a looke. Zelmane as much as Gynecias iealousie would suffer, desired to be neere Philoclea; Philoclea, as much as Gynecias iealousie would suffer, desired to be neere Zelmane. If Zelmane tooke her [ 25] hand, and softly strained it, she also (thinking the knots of friendship ought to be mutuall) would (with a sweete fastnes) shew she was loth to part from it. And if Zelmane sighed, she would sigh also; when Zelmane was sad, she deemed it wisdome, and therefore she would be sad too. Zelmanes languishing countenance with crost armes, and sometimes cast-vp eyes, she thought to haue an excellent grace: and [ 30] therefore she also willingly put on the same countenance: till at the last (poore soule, ere she were aware) she accepted not onely the badge, but the seruice; not only the signe, but the passion signified. For whether it were, that her wit in con∣tinuance did finde, that Zelmanes friendship was full of impatient desire, hauing more then ordinarie limits, and therfore she was content to second Zelmane, though [ 35] her selfe knew not the limits; or that in truth, true-loue (well considered) haue an infectiue power. At last she fell in acquaintance with loues harbinger, wishing. First she would wish, that they two might liue all their liues together, like two of Dianas Nimphes. But that wish, she thought not sufficient, because she knew, there would be more Nimphes besides them, who also would haue their part in Zelmane. Then [ 40] would she wish, that she were her sister, that such a naturall band might make her more speciall to her. But against that, she considered, that though being her sister, if she happened to be married, she should be robbed of her. Then growne bolder, she would wish either her selfe, or Zelmane a man, that there might succeed a blessed marriage betwixt them. But when that wish had once displaied his ensigne in her [ 45] minde, then followed whole squadrons of longings, that so it might be, with a maine battaile of mislikings, and repynings against their creation, that so it was not. Then dreames by night began to bring more vnto her, then she durst wish by day,

where-out making did make her know her selfe the better by the image of those fancies. But as some diseases when they are easie to be cured, they are hard to be knowne, but when they grow easie to be knowne, they are almost impossible to be cured: so the sweete Philoclea, while she might preuent it, she did not feele it, now she felt it, when it was past preuenting; like a riuer, no rampiers being built against [ 5] it, till alreadie it haue ouerflowed. For now indeed, Loue puld off his maske, and shewed his face vnto her, and told her plainly, that shee was his prisoner. Then nee∣ded she no more paint her face with passions; for passions shone thorow her face; Then her rosie coulor was often encreased with extraordinarie blushing: and so another time, perfect whitnesse descended to a degree of palenesse; now hot, then [ 10] cold, desiring she knewe not what, nor how, if she knew what. Then her minde (though too late) by the smart was brought to thinke of the disease, and her owne proofe taught her to know her mothers minde; which (as no error giues so strong assault, as that which comes armed in the authoritie of a parent) so greatly forti∣fied her desires, to see, that her mother had the like desires. And the more iealous [ 15] her mother was, the more she thought the Iewell precious, which was with so many lookes garded. But that preuailing so farre, as to keepe the two louers from priuate conference, then began she to feele the sweetnesse of a louers solitarinesse, when freely with words and gestures, as if Zelmane were present, shee might giue passage to her thoughts, and so as it were vtter out some smoke of those [ 20] flames, wherewith else she was not only burned, but smothered. As this night, that going from the one lodge to the other by her mothers commandement, with dolefull gestures and vncertaine paces, shee did willingly accept the times offer, to be a while alone: so that going a little aside into the wood; where manie times before she had delighted to walke, her eyes were saluted with a tuft of trees, so close [ 25] set together, as with the shade the moone gaue thorow it, it might breede a feare∣full kinde of deuotion to looke vpon it. But true thoughts of loue banished all vaine fancie of superstition. Full well she did both remember and like the place; for there had she often with their shade beguiled Phoebus of looking vpon her: There had she enioyed her selfe often, while she was mistresse of her selfe, and had [ 30] no other thoughts, but such as might arise out of quiet senses.

But the principall cause that inuited her remembrance, was a goodly white marble stone, that should seeme had bene dedicated in ancient time to the Siluan gods: which she finding there a fewe dayes before Zelmanes comming, had written these words vpon it, as a testimonie of her mind, against the suspition her captiuitie [ 35] made her thinke she liued in. The writing was this.

YOu liuing powres enclosed in stately shrine Of growing trees: you rurall Gods that wield Your scepters here, if to your eares diuine [ 40] A voice may come, which troubled soule doth yeld: This vowe receaue, this vowe ô Gods maintaine; My virgin life no spotted thought shall staine.

Thou purest stone, whose purenesse doth present [ 45] My purest minde; whose temper hard doth showe My tempred hart; by thee my promise sent

Vnto my selfe let after-liuers know. No fancy mine, nor others wrong suspect Make me, ô vertuous Shame, thy lawes neglect.

[ 5] O Chastitie, the chiefe of heauenly lightes, Which makst vs most immortall shape to weare, Holde thou my hart, establish thou my sprights: To onely thee my constant course I beare. Till spotlesse soule vnto thy bosome flye, [ 10] Such life to leade, such death I vow to dye.

But now that her memorie serued as an accuser of her change, and that her own hand-writing was there, to beare testimony against her fall; she went in among those few trees, so closed in the toppes together, as they might seeme a little chap∣pell: [ 15] and there might she by the help of the moone-light perceiue the goodly stone, which serued as an altar in that wooddie deuotion. But neither the light was enough to reade the words, and the inke was alreadie foreworne, and in many places blotted: which as she perceaued, Alas (said she) faire Marble, which neuer receiuedst spot but by my writing, well do these blots become a blotted writer. [ 20] But pardon her which did not dissemble then, although she haue chaunged since. Enioy, enioy the glorie of thy nature, which can so constantly beare the markes of my inconstancie. And herewith hiding her eyes with her soft hand, there came into her head certaine verses, which if she had had present commoditie, she would haue adioyned as a retractation to the other. They were to this effect.

[ 25]

MY words, in hope to blaze my stedfast minde, This marble chose, as of like temper knowne: But lo••, my words defaste, my fancies blinde, [ 30] Blots to the stone, shames to my selfe I finde: And witnesse am, how ill agree in one, A womans hand with constant marble stone.

My words full weake, the marble ••ull of might; [ 35] My words in store, the marble all alone; My words blacke inke, the marble kindly white; My words vnseene, the marble still in sight, May witnesse beare, how ill agree in one, A womans hand, with constant marble stone.

[ 40] But seeing she could not see meanes to ioyne as then this recantation to the for∣mer vowe, (laying all her faire length vnder one of the trees) for a while she did nothing but turne vp and downe, as if she had hoped to turne away the fancie that mastred her, and hid her face, as if she could haue hidden her selfe from her owne fancies. At length with a whispring note to her selfe; O me vnfortunate wretch [ 45] (said she) what poysonous heates be these, which thus torment me? How hath the sight of this strange guest inuaded my soule? Alas, what entrance found this desire, or what strength had it thus to conquer me? Then, a cloud passing be∣tweene

her sight and the moone, O Diana (said she) I would either the cloud that now hides the light of my vertue would as easily passe away, as you will quickly ouercome this let; or els that you were for euer thus darkned, to serue for an excuse of my outragious folly. Then looking to the starres, which had perfitly as then beautified the cleere skie: My parents (said she) haue told me, that in these faire [ 5] heauenly bodies, there are great hidden deities, which haue their working in the ebbing and flowing of our estates. If it be so, then (O you Stars) iudge rightly of me, and if I haue with wicked intent made my selfe a pray to fancie, or if by any idle lustes I framed my hart fit for such an impression, then let this plague dayly en∣crease in me, till my name be made odious to womankind. But if extreame and vn∣resistable [ 10] violence haue oppressed me, who will euer do any of you sacrifice (ô you Starres) if you do not succour me. No, no, you will not help me. No, no, you can not help me: Sinne must be the mother, and shame the daughter of my affection. And yet are these but childish obiections (simple Philoclea) it is the impossibilitie that dooth torment me: for, vnlawfull desires are punished after the effect of en∣ioying; [ 15] but vnpossible desires are punished in the desire it selfe. O then, ô tenne times vnhappie that I am, since where in all other hope kindleth loue; in me de∣spaire should be the bellowes of my affection: and of all despaires the most mise∣rable, which is drawen from impossibilitie. The most couetous man longs not to get riches out of a ground which neuer can beare any thing; Why? because it is [ 20] impossible. The most ambitious wight vexeth not his wits to clime into heauen; Why? because it is impossible. Alas then, ô Loue, why doost thou in thy beautifull sampler set such a worke for my Desire to take out, which is as much impossible? And yet alas, why doo I thus condemne my Fortune, before I heare what she can say for her selfe? What doo I, sillie wench, knowe what Loue hath prepared for [ 25] mee? Doo I not see my mother, as well, at lest as furiouslie as my selfe, loue Zelma∣ne? And should I be wiser then my mother? Either she sees a possibilitie in that which I thinke impossible, or els impossible loues neede not misbecome me. And doo I not see Zelmane (who doth not thinke a thought which is not first wayed by wisdome and vertue) doth not she vouchsafe to loue me with like ardour? I see it, [ 30] her eyes depose it to be true; what then? and if she can loue poore me, shall I thinke scorne to loue such a woman as Zelmane? Away then all vaine examinations of why and how. Thou louest me, excellent Zelmane, and I loue thee: and with that, embrasing the very ground whereon she lay, she said to her selfe (for euen to her selfe she was ashamed to speake it out in words) O my Zelmane, gouerne and direct [ 35] me: for I am wholy giuen ouer vnto thee.

In this depth of muzes, and diuers sorts of discourses, would she rauingly haue remained, but that Dametas and Miso (who were round about to seeke her, vnder∣standing she was to come to their lodge that night) came hard by her; Dametas say∣ing, That he would not deale in other bodies matters; but for his part, he did not [ 40] like that maides should once stirre out of their fathers houses, but if it were to milke a cow, or saue a chicken from a kites foot, or some such other matter of importance. And Miso swearing that if it were her daughter Mopsa, she would giue her a lesson for walking so late, that should make her keepe within dores for one fortnight. But their iangling made Philoclea rise, and pretending as though she had done it but to [ 45] sport with them, went with them (after she had willed Miso to waite vpon her mo∣ther) to the lodge; where (being now accustomed by her parents discipline, as well

as her sister, to serue her selfe) she went alone vp to Pamelas chamber: where mea∣ning to delight her eies, and ioy her thoughts with the sweet conuersation of her beloued sister, she found her (though it were in the time that the wings of night doth blow sleep most willingly into mortall creatures) sitting in a chaire, lying [ 5] backward, with her head almost ouer the back of it, and looking vpon a wax-candle which burnt before her; in one hand holding a letter, in the other her hand-ker∣chiefe, which had lately dronke vp the teares of her eyes, leauing in steed of them, crimsen circles, like redde flakes in the element, when the weather is hottest. Which Philoclea finding (for her eyes had learned to know the badges of sorow) she ear∣nestlie [ 10] intreated to know the cause thereof, that either she might comfort, or ac∣companie her dolefull humor. But Pamela, rather seeming sorie that she had per∣ceiued so much, then willing to open any further, O my Pamela (said Philoclea) who are to me a sister in nature, a mother in counsell, a Princesse by the law of our coun∣trey, and which name (me thinke) of all other is the dearest, a friend by my choice [ 15] and your fauour, what meanes this banishing me from your counsels? Do you loue your sorrowe so well, as to grudge me part of it? Or doo you thinke I shall not loue a sad Pamela, so well as a ioyfull? Or be my eares vnworthie, or my tongue suspected? What is it (my sister) that you should conceale from your sister, yea and seruant Philoclea? These words wanne no further of Pamela, but that telling her they [ 20] might talke better as they lay together, they impouerished their cloathes to inrich their bed, which for that night might well scorne the shrine of Venus: and there cherishing one another with deare, though chaste embracements; with sweet, though cold kisses; it might seeme that Loue was come to play him there without darte; or that weerie of his owne fires, he was there to refresh himselfe betweene [ 25] their sweete-breathing lippes. But Philoclea earnestly againe intreated Pamela to open her griefe; who (drawing the curtaine, that the candle might not complaine of her blushing) was ready to speake: but the breath almost formed into words, was againe stopt by her, and turned into sighes. But at last, I pray you (said she) sweete Philoclea, let vs talke of some other thing: and tell me whether you did euer [ 30] see any thing so amended as our Pastorall sports be, since that Dorus came hether? O Loue, how farre thou seest with blind eyes? Philoclea had straight found her, and therefore to draw out more, In deed (said she) I haue often wondred to my selfe how such excellencies could be in so meane a person; but belike Fortune was afraide to lay her treasures, where they should be staind with so many perfections: [ 35] onely I maruaile how he can frame himselfe to hide so rare giftes vnder such a block as Dametas. Ah (said Pamela) if you knew the cause: but no more doo I neither; and to say the trueth: but Lord, how are we falne to talke of this fellow? and yet indeed if you were sometimes with me to marke him, while Dametas reades his rusticke lecture vnto him (how to feede his beastes before noone, where to shade [ 40] them in the extreame heate, how to make the manger hansome for his oxen, when to vse the goade, and when the voice: giuing him rules of a heardman, though he pretend to make him a shepheard) to see all the while with what a grace (which seemes to set a crowne vpon his base estate) he can descend to those poore matters, certainly you would: but to what serues this? no doubt we were better sleepe then [ 45] talke of these idle matters. Ah my Pamela (said Philoclea) I haue caught you, the constancy of your wit was not wont to bring forth such disiointed speeches: you loue, dissemble no further. It is true (said Pamela) now you haue it; and with lesse

adoo should, if my hart could haue thought those words suteable for my mouth. But indeed (my Philoclea) take heed: for I thinke Vertue it selfe is no armour of proofe against affection. Therefore learne by my example. Alas thought Philoclea to her selfe, your sheares come too late to clip the birds wings that already is flowne away. But then Pamela being once set in the streame of her loue, went away amaine [ 5] withall, telling her how his noble qualities had drawne her liking towardes him; but yet euer waying his meanenes, and so held continually in due limits; till see∣king many meanes to speake with her, and euer kept from it (as well because she shund it, seing and disdaining his mind, as because of her iealous iaylours) he had at length vsed the finest pollicie that might be in counterfaiting loue to Mopsa, and [ 10] saying to Mopsa what soeuer he would haue her know: and in how passionate manner he had told his owne tale in a third person, making poore Mopsa beleeue, that it was a matter fallen out many ages before. And in the end, because you shall know my teares come not, neither of repentance nor misery, who thinke you, is my Dorus fallen out to be? euen the Prince Musidorus, famous ouer all Asia, for his [ 15] heroicall enterprises, of whom you remember how much good the straunger Plan∣gus told my father; he not being drowned (as Plangus thought) though his cousin Pyrocles indeed perished. Ah my sister, if you had heard his words, or seene his ge∣stures, when he made me know what, and to whom his loue was, you would haue matched in your selfe (those two rarely matched together) pittie and delight. Tell [ 20] me dear sister (for the Gods are my witnesses I desire to do vertuously) can I with∣out the detestable staine of vngratefulnesse abstaine from louing him, who (far ex∣ceeding the beautifulnesse of his shape with the beautifulnesse of his minde, and the greatnesse of his estate with the greatnesse of his actes) is content so to abase him selfe, as to become Dametas seruaunt for my sake? you will say, but how know [ 25] I him to be Musidorus, since the handmaid of wisdome is slow beliefe? That consi∣deration did not want in me: for the nature of desire it selfe is no easier to receiue beliefe, then it is hard to ground beliefe. For as desire is glad to embrace the first shew of comfort, so is desire desirous of perfect assurance: and that haue I had of him, not onely by necessary arguments to any of common sense, but by sufficient [ 30] demonstrations. Lastly he would haue me send to Thessalia: but truly I am not as now in mind to do my honorable Loue so much wrong, as so far to suspect him: yet poore soule knowes he no other, but that I doo both suspect, neglect, yea and detest him. For euery day he finds one way or other to set forth himselfe vnto me, but all are rewarded with like coldnesse of acceptation. [ 35]

A few daies since, he and Dametas had furnished themselues very richly to run at the ring before me. O how mad a sight it was to see Dametas, like rich Tissew furd with lambe-skins? But ô how well it did with Dorus, to see with what a grace hee presented himselfe before me on horseback, making maiestie wait vpon humble∣nes? how at the first, standing still with his eies bent vpon me, as though his moti∣ons [ 40] were chained to my looke, he so staid till I caused Mopsa bid him do some∣thing vpō his horse: which no sooner said, but (with a kinde rather of quick gesture, then shew of violence) you might see him come towards me, beating the ground in so due time, as no dancer can obserue better measure. If you remember the ship we saw once, when the Sea went hie vpon the coast of Argos; so went the beast: But he [ 45] (as if Centaurlike he had bene one peece with the horse) was no more moued, then one is with the going of his owne legs: and in effect so did he command him, as

his owne limmes: for though he had both spurres and wand, they seemed rather markes of soueraintie, then instruments of punishment; his hande and legge (with most pleasing grace) commanding without threatning, and rather remembring thē chastising, at lest if sometimes he did, it was so stollen, as neither our eies could dis∣cerne [ 5] it, nor the horse with any change did complaine of it: he euer going so iust with the horse, either foorth right, or turning, that it seemed as he borrowed the horses body, so he lent the horse his minde: in the turning one might perceiue the bridle-hande something gently stirre, but indeede so gently, as it did rather distill vertue, then vse violence. Him selfe (which mee thinkes is straunge) shewing at [ 10] one instant both steadines and nimblenes; sometimes making him turne close to the grounde, like a cat, when scratchingly she wheeles about after a mouse: somtimes with a little more rising before, now like a Rauen leaping from ridge to ridge, then like one of Dametas kiddes bounde ouer the hillockes: and all so done, as neither the lusty kinde shewed any roughnesse, nor the easier any idlenesse: but still like a [ 15] well obeyed maister, whose becke is enough for a discipline, euer concluding each thing hee did with his face to me-wardes, as if thence came not onely the begin∣ning, but ending of his motions. The sport was to se Dametas, how he was tost from the saddle to the mane of the horse, and thence to the grounde, giuing his gay apparell almost as foule an outside, as it had an inside. But as before hee had euer [ 20] saide, he wanted but horse and apparell to be as braue a courtier as the best, so now brused with proofe, he proclaimed it a folly for a man of wisedome, to put him∣selfe vnder the tuition of a beast; so as Dorus was faine alone to take the Ringe. Wherein truely at lest my womanishe eies could not discerne, but that taking his staffe from his thigh, the descending it a little downe, the getting of it vp into [ 25] the rest, the letting of the pointe fall, and taking the Ring was but all one mo∣tion, at lest (if they were diuers motions) they did so stealinglie slippe one into another, as the latter parte was euer in hande, before the eie coulde discerne the former was ended. Indeede Dametas found fault that he shewed no more strength in shaking of his staffe: but to my conceite the fine cleenes of bearing it was excee∣ding [ 30] delightfull.

But how delightfull soeuer it was, my delight might well be in my soule, but it neuer went to looke out of the window to doo him any comfort. But how much more I founde reason to like him, the more I set all the strength of minde to sup∣presse it, or at lest to conceale it. Indeed I must confesse, that as some Phisitions haue [ 35] tolde me, that when one is colde outwardly, he is not inwardly; so truely the colde ashes laid vpon my fire, did not take the nature of fire frō it. Ful often hath my brest swollen with keeping my sighes imprisoned; full often haue the teares, I draue backe from mine eies, turned backe to drown my hart. But alas what did that helpe poore Dorus? whose eies (being his diligent intelligencers) could carrie vnto him no other [ 40] newes, but discōfortable. I thinke no day past, but by some one inuention he would appeare vnto me to testifie his loue. One time he daunced the Matachine daunce in armour (O with what a gracefull dexterity?) I thinke to make me see, that he had bin brought vp in such exercises: an other time he perswaded his maister (to make my time seeme shorter) in manner of a Dialogue, to play Priamus while he plaide Paris. [ 45] Think (swet Philoclea) what a Priamus we had: but truly, my Paris was a Paris, & more thē a Paris: who while in a sauage apparell, with naked necke, armes, & legs, he made loue to Oenone, you might wel see by his chaunged countenaunce, and true teares,

that he felte the parte he playde. Tell mee (sweete Philoclea,) did you euer see such a shephearde? tell mee, did you euer heare of such a Prince? And then tell me, if a small or vnworthy assaulte haue conquered mee. Truely I woulde hate my life, if I thought vanity led me. But since my parentes deale so cruelly with mee, it is time for me to trust something to my owne iudgement. Yet hetherto haue my [ 5] lookes beene as I told you, which continuing after many of these his fruiteles trials, haue wrought such change in him, as I tel you true (with that word she laid her hād vpon her quaking side) I do not a little feare him. See what a letter this is (then drew she the curtaine and tooke the letter from vnder the pillowe) which to day (with an afflicted humblenes) he deliuered me, pretending before Mopsa, that I should read [ 10] it vnto her, to mollifie (forsooth) her iron stomacke; with that she read the letter containing thus much.

MOst blessed paper, which shalt kisse that hād, where to all blessednes is in nature a seruant, do not yet disdaine to cary with thee the woful words of a miser now [ 15] despairing: neither be afraide to appeare before her, bearing the base title of the sender. For no sooner shall that diuine hande touch thee, but that thy basenesse shall be turned to moste hie preferment. Therefore mourne boldly my Inke; for while she lookes vppon you, your blackenes will shine: cry out boldly my Lamen∣tation; for while she reads you, your cries will be musicke. Say then (O happie mes∣senger [ 20] of a most vnhappy message) that the too soone borne, and too late dying cre∣ature, which dares not speake, no not looke, no not scarcely thinke (as from his miserable selfe, vnto her heauenly highnesse) onely presumes to desire thee (in the time that her eies and voice doe exalt thee) to say, and in this manner to say, not from him, O no, that were not fitte, but of him. Thus much vnto her sacred iudge∣ment: [ 25] O you, the onely honour to women, to men the onelie admiration, you that being armed by Loue, defie him that armed you, in this high estate wherein you haue placed mee, yet let me remember him to whom I am bound for bringing me to your presence; and let me remember him, who (since he is yours, how mean so euer he be) it is reason you haue an accoūt of him. The wretch (yet your wretch) [ 30] though with languishing steppes runnes fast to his graue, and will you suffer a tem∣ple (how poorely-built soeuer, but yet a temple of your deitie) to be rased? But he dieth: it is most true, he dieth; and he in whom you liue, to obey you, dieth. Wher∣of though he plaine, he doth not complaine: for it is a harme, but no wrong, which he hath receiued. He dies, because in wofull language all his senses tell him, that [ 35] such is your pleasure: for since you will not that he liue, alas, alas, what followeth, what followeth of the most ruined Dorus, but his ende? Ende then, euill destinied Dorus, ende; and ende thou wofull letter, end; for it sufficeth her wisedom to know, that her heauenlie will shalbe accomplished.

O my Philoclea, is hee a person to write these wordes? and are these words [ 40] lightly to bee regarded? But if you had seene, when with trembling hande hee had deliuered it, how hee went away, as if he had beene but the coffin that carri∣ed himselfe to his sepulcher. Two times I must confesse I was about to take curtesie into mine eies; but both times the former resolution stopte the entrie of it: so that hee departed without obtaining any further kindenesse. But he [ 45] was no sooner out of the doore, but that I looked to the doore kindely; and

truely the feare of him euer since hath put me into such perplexitie, as now you found me. Ah my Pamela (saide Philoclea) leaue sorrow. The riuer of your teares will soone loose his fountaine; it is in your hand as well to stich vp his life againe, as it was before to rent it. And so (though with selfe-grieued mind) she comforted her [ 5] sister, till sleepe came to bath himselfe in Pamelaes faire weeping eyes.

Which when Philoclea found, wringing her hands, O me (said she) indeede the onely subiect of the destinies displeasure, whose greatest fortunatenes is more vnfor∣tunate, then my sisters greatest vnfortunatenesse. Alas shee weepes because shee would be no sooner happy; I weepe because I can neuer be happie; her teares flow [ 10] form pittie; mine from being too farre lower then the reach of pittie. Yet doo I not enuie thee, deare Pamela, I do not enuy thee: only I could wish that being thy sister in nature, I were not so farre off a kin in fortune.

But the darkenesse of sorrow ouershadowing her mind, as the night did her eyes, they were both content to hide themselues vnder the wings of sleepe, till the next [ 15] morning had almost lost his name, before the two sweet sleeping sisters awaked frō dreames which flattered them with more cōfort, then their waking could, or would consent vnto. For then they were called vp by Miso; who hauing bene with Gynecia, had receiued commaundement to be continually with her daughters, and particu∣larly not to let Zelmane and Philoclea haue any priuate conferēce, but that she should [ 20] be present to heare what passed. Miso hauing now her authoritie encreased, But cāe with skowling eyes to deliuer a slauering good morrow to the two Ladies, telling them, it was a shame for them to marre their complexions, yea and conditions to, with long lying a bedde: and that, when shee was of their age, shee trowed, shee would haue made a handkerchiefe by that time a day. The two sweete Princes [ 25] with a smilinge silence answered her entertainement, and obeiyng her directi∣on, couered their daintie beauties with the glad clothes. But as soone as Pame∣la was readie (and sooner she was then her sister) the agony of Dorus giuing a fit to her selfe, which the words of his letter (liuely imprinted in her minde) still remem∣bred her of, she called to Mopsa, and willed her to fetch Dorus to speake with her: [ 30] because (she said) shee woulde take further iudgement of him, before shee woulde moue Dametas to graunt her in mariage vnto him. Mopsa (as glad as of sweet-meate to goe of such an arrant) quickly returned with Dorus to Pamela, who entended both by speaking with him to giue some comfort to his passionate harte, and withall to heare some parte of his life past; which although fame had alreadie de∣liuered [ 35] vnto her, yet she desired in more particular certainties to haue it from so beloued an historian. Yet the sweetnesse of vertues disposition iealous, euen ouer it selfe, suffred her not to enter abruptlie into questions of Musidorus (whom shee was halfe ashamed she did loue so well, and more then halfe sorie she could loue no better) but thought best first to make her talke arise of Pyrocles, & his vertuous father: [ 40] which thus she did.

Dorus (said she) you told me the last day, that Plangus was deceaued in that he af∣firmed the Prince Musidorus was drowned: but withall, you confessed his cosen Py∣rocles perished; of whom certainly in that age there was a gr••at losse, since (as I haue heard) he was a young Prince, of whom all men expected as much, as mans power [ 45] could bring forth, and yet vertue promised for him, their expectation should not be deceaued. Most excellent Ladie (said Dorus) no expectation in others, nor hope in himselfe could aspire to a higher mark, then to bee thought worthy to be praised by

your iudgement, and made worthy to be praised by your mouth. But most sure it is, that as his fame could by no means get so sweet & noble an aire to flie in, as in your breath, so coulde not you (leauing your selfe aside) finde in the worlde a fitter subiect of commendation; as noble, as a long succession of roiall ancestors, famous, and famous for victories could make him: of shape most louely, and yet of minde [ 5] more louely; valiaunt, curteous, wise, what should I say more? sweete Pyrocles, ex∣cellent Pyrocles, what can my words but wrong thy perfections, which I would to God in some small measure thou hadst bequeathed to him that euer must haue thy vertues in admiration; that masked at least in them, I might haue founde some more gratious acceptation? with that hee imprisoned his looke for a while vppon [ 10] Mopsa, who thereuppon fell into a very wide smiling. Truely (saide Pamela) Do∣rus I like well your minde, that can raise it selfe out of so base a fortune, as yours is, to thinke of the imitating so excellent a Prince, as Pyrocles was. Who shootes at the midde day Sunne, though he bee sure he shall neuer hit the marke; yet as sure hee is, he shall shoote higher, then who aimes but at a bushe. But I pray you Dorus [ 15] (saide shee) tell me (since I perceiue you are well acquainted with that storie) what Prince was that Euarchus father to Pyrocles, of whom so much fame goes, for his rightly roiall vertues, or by what waies he got that opinion. And then so des∣cend to the causes of his sending first away from him, and then to him for that ex∣cellent sonne of his, with the discourse of his life and losse: and therein you may (if [ 20] you list) say something of that same Musidorus his cosen, because, they going to∣gether, the storie of Pyrocles (which I onely desire) may be the better vnderstood.

Incomparable Lady (said he) your commaundement doth not onely giue mee the wil, but the power to obey you, such influence hath your excellencie. And first, for that famous King Euarchus, he was (at this time you speake off) King of Mace∣don, [ 25] a kingdom, which in elder time had such a soueraintie ouer all the prouinces of Greece, that euen the particular kings therein did acknowledge (with more or lesse degrees of homage) some kinde of fealtie thereunto: as among the rest, euen this now most noble (and by you ennobled) kingdome of Arcadia. But he, when hee came to his crowne, finding by his latter ancestors either negligence, or misfortune, [ 30] that in some ages many of those dueties had beene intermitted, woulde neuer stirre vp olde titles (how apparant soeuer) whereby the publike peace (with the losse of manie not guiltie soules) shoulde be broken; but contenting himself•• to guide that shippe, wherin the heauens had placed him, shewed no lesse magnanimitie in daun∣gerlesse despising, then others in daungerous affecting the multiplying of king∣domes: [ 35] for the earth hath since borne enow bleeding witnesses, that it was no want of true courage. Who as he was most wise to see what was best, and moste iust in the perfourming what he saw, and temperate in abstaining from any thing any way contrarie: so thinke I, no thought can imagine a greater heart to see and contemne daunger, where daunger would offer to make anie wrongfull threat∣ning [ 40] vppon him. A Prince, that indeede especiallie measured his greatnesse by his goodnes: & if for any thing he loued greatnes, it was, because therein he might ex∣ercise his goodnes. A Prince of a goodly aspect, and the more goodly by a graue maiestie, wherewith his mind did decke his outward graces; strong of bodie, and so much the stronger, as he by a well disciplined exercise taught it both to do, and suf∣fer. [ 45] Of age so as he was about fisty yeares when his Nephew Musidorus tooke on such shepheardish apparell for the loue of the worlds paragon, as I now weare.

This King left Orphan both of father & mother, (whose father and grandfather likewise had died yong) he found his estate, when he came to the age (which al∣lowed his authoritie) so disioynted euen in the noblest & strongest lims of gouern∣ment, that the name of a King was growne euen odious to the people, his authory∣tie [ 5] hauing bin abused by those great Lords, and litle kings: who in those betweene times of raigning (by vniust fauouring those that were partially theirs, and oppres∣sing them that would defende their libertie against them had brought in (by a more felt then seene maner of proceeding) the worst kind of Oligarchie; that is when men are gouerned in deede by a fewe, and yet are not taught to know what those fewe, [ 10] be, to whom they should obey.

For they hauing the power of kings, but not the nature of kings, vsed the authority as men do their farms, of which they see within a yeere they shal go out: making the Kinges sworde strike whom they hated; the Kings purse reward whom they loued: and (which is worst of all) making the Royall countenaunce serue to vndermine [ 15] the Royall souerainty. For the Subiectes could taste no sweeter fruites of hauing a King, then grieuous taxations to serue vaine purposes; Lawes made rather to finde faultes, then to preuent faults: the Court of a Prince rather deemed as a priui∣ledged place of vnbrideled licentiousnes, then as the abiding of him, who as a father, should giue a fatherly example vnto his people. Hence grew a very dissolu∣tion [ 20] of all estates, while the great men (by the nature of ambition neuer satisfied) grew factious among themselues: and the vnderlinges, glad in deede to be vnder∣linges to them they hated lest, to preserue them from such they hated most. Men of vertue suppressed, lest their shining shuld discouer the others filthines; and at lēgth vertue it selfe almost forgotten, when it had no hopefull end whereunto to be di∣rected; [ 25] olde men long ••usled in corruption, scorning them that would seeke refor∣mation; young men very fault-finding, but very faultie: and so to new fanglenesse both of manners, apparell, and each thing els, by the custome of selfe-guiltie euill, glad to change though oft for a worse; marchaundise abused, and so townes decai∣ed for want of iust and naturall libertie; offices, euen of iudging soules, solde; pub∣lique [ 30] defences neglected; and in summe, (lest too long I trouble you) all awrie, and (which wried it to the most wrie course of all) witte abused, rather to faine reason why it should be amisse, then how it should be amended.

In this, and a much worse plight then it is fitte to trouble your excellent eares withall, did the King Euarchus finde his estate, when he tooke vppon him the regi∣ment: [ 35] which by reason of the long streame of abuse, he was forced to establish by some euen extreme seuerity, not so much for the very faultes themselues, (which hee rather sought to preuent then to punishe) as for the faultie ones; who strong, euen in their faultes, scorned his youth, and coulde not learne to disgest, that the man which they so long had vsed to maske their owne appetites, shoulde now be [ 40] the reducer of them into order. But so soone as some fewe (but in deede notable) examples, had thundered a duety into the subiectes hearts, hee soone shewed, no basenes of suspition, nor the basest basenes of enuy, coulde any whit rule such a Ruler. But then shined foorth indeede all loue among them, when an awfull feare, ingendred by iustice, did make that loue most louely: his first and principal [ 45] care being to appear vnto his people, such as he would haue them be, & to be such as he appeared; making his life the example of his lawes, and his lawes as it were, his axioms arising out of his deedes. So that within small time, he wanne a singular

loue in his people, and engraffed singular confidence. For how could they chuse but loue him, whom they found so truely to loue them? He euen in reason disday∣ning, that they that haue charge of beastes, shoulde loue their charge, and care for them; and that he that was to gouerne the most excellent creature, should not loue so noble a charge. And therefore, where most Princes (seduced by flatterie to [ 5] builde vpon false grounds of gouernment) make themselues (as it were) an other thing from the people; and so count it gaine what they get from them: and (as if it were two counter-ballances, that their estate goes hiest when the people goes lowest) by a fallacie of argument thinking themselues most Kinges, when the subiect is most basely subiected: He cōtrariwise, vertuouslie and wisely acknowledg∣ing, [ 10] that he with his people made all but one politike bodie, whereof himselfe was the head; euen so cared for them, as he woulde for his owne limmes: neuer restray∣ning their libertie, without it stretched to licenciousnes, nor pulling from them their goods, which they found were not imployed to the purchase of a greater good: but in all his actions shewing a delight in their wellfare, brought that to passe, that while [ 15] by force he tooke nothing, by their loue he had all. In summe (peerelesse Princesse) I might as easily sette downe the whole Arte of gouernement, as to lay before your eyes the picture of his proceedings. But in such sorte hee flourished in the sweete comforte of dooing much good, when by an accasion of leauing his Countrie, he was forced to bring foorth his vertue of magnanimitie, as before hee had done of [ 20] iustice.

He had onely one sister, a Ladie (lest I should too easilie fall to partiall prayses of her) of whom it may be iustly saide, that she was no vnfit branch to the noble stock whereof she was come. Her he had giuen in mariage to Dorilaus, Prince of Thessalia, not so much to make a frendship, as to confirm the frendship betweene their poste∣ritie, [ 25] which betweene them, by the likenes of vertue, had beene long before made: for certainly, Dorilaus, could neede no amplifiers mouth for the highest point of praise. Who hath not heard (said Pamela) of the valiant, wise, and iust Dorilaus, whose vnripe death doth yet (so many yeares since) draw teares from vertuous eyes? And indeede, my father is wont to speake of nothing with greater admiration, then of [ 30] the notable fri••ndship (a rare thing in Princes, more rare betweene Princes) that so holily was obserued to the last, of those two excellent men. But (said she) go on I pray you. Dorilaus (said he) hauing married his sister, had his marriage in short time blest (for so are folke woont to say, how vnhappie soeuer the children after grow) with a sonne, whom they named Musidorus: of whom I must needes first speake [ 35] before I come to Pyrocles; because as he was borne first, so vpon his occasion grew (as I may say accidentally) the others birth. For scarcely was Musidorus made parta∣ker of this oft-blinding light, when there were found numbers of Southsayers, who affirmed strange and incredible thinges should be performed by that childe; whe∣ther the heauens at that time listed to play with ignorant mankinde, or that flatterie [ 40] be so presumptuous, as euen at times to borrow the face of Diuinitie. But certainly, so did the boldnesse of their affirmation accompanie the greatnesse of what they did affirm (euen descending to particularities, what kingdoms he should ouercome) that the king of Phrygia (who ouer-superstitiously thought himselfe touched in the matter) sought by force to destroy the infant, to preuent his after-expectations: be∣cause [ 45] a skilfull man (hauing compared his natiuity with the child) so told him. Foo∣lish man, either vainly fearing what was not to be feared, or not considering that if it

were a worke of the superiour powers, the heauens at length are neuer children. But so he did, and by the aid of the Kings of Lydia and Crete (ioining together their armies) inuaded Thessalia, and brought Dorilaus to some behind-hand of fortune, when his faithfull friend and brother Euarchus came so mightily to his succour, that [ 5] with some enterchanging changes of fortune, they begat of a iust war, the best child, peace. In which time Euarchus made a crosse mariage also with Dorilaus his si∣ster, and shortly left her with child of the famous Pyrocles, driuen to returne to the defence of his owne countrie, which in his absence (helped with some of the ill contented nobilitie) the mighty King of Thrace, and his brother, King of Pannonia, [ 10] had inuaded. The successe of those warres was too notable to be vnknowne to your eares, to which it seemes all worthy fame hath glory to come vnto. But there was Dorilaus (valiantly requiting his friends helpe) in a great battaile depriued of life, his obsequies being no more solemnised by the teares of his partakers, then the bloud of his enimies; with so pearcing a sorrow to the constant hart of Euarchus, [ 15] that the newes of his sons birth could lighten his countenance with no shew of comfort, although all the comfort that might be in a child, truth it selfe in him forth∣with deliuered. For what fortune onely southsayers foretold of Musidorus, that all men might see prognosticated in Pyrocles, both Heauens and Earth giuing tokens of the comming forth of an Heroicall vertue. The senate house of the planets was [ 20] at no time so set, for the decreeing of perfection in a man, as at that time all folkes skilfull therein did acknowledge: onely loue was threatned, and promised to him, and so to his cousin, as both the tempest and hauen of their best yeares. But as death may haue preuented Pyrocles, so vnworthinesse must be the death of Musidorus.

But the mother of Pyrocles (shortly after her childe-birth) dying, was cause that [ 25] Euarchus recommended the care of his only sonne to his sister; doing it the rather because the warre continued in cruell heat, betwixt him and those euill neighbours of his. In which meane time those young Princes (the only comforters of that ver∣tuous widow) grewe on so, that Pyrocles taught admiration to the hardest conceats: Musidorus (perchaunce because among his subiects) exceedingly beloued: and [ 30] by the good order of Euarchus (well perfourmed by his sister) they were so brought vp, that all the sparkes of vertue, which nature had kindled in them, were so blowne to giue forth their vttermost heate that iustly it may be affirmed, they enflamed the affections of all that knew them. For almost before they could perfectly speake, they began to receaue conceits not vnworthy of the best speakers: excellent deui∣ses [ 35] being vsed, to make euen their sports profitable; images of battailes, and fortifi∣cations being then deliuered to their memory, which after, their stronger iudge∣ments might dispense, the delight of tales being conuerted to the knowledge of all the stories of worthy Princes, both to moue them to do nobly, and teach them how to do nobly; the beautie of vertue still being set before their eyes, and that taught [ 40] them with far more diligent care, then Grammaticall rules, their bodies exercised in all abilities, both of doing and suffring, and their mindes acquainted by degrees with daungers; and in sum, all bent to the making vp of princely mindes: no ser∣uile feare vsed towards them, nor any other violent restraint, but still as to Princes: so that a habite of commaunding was naturalized in them, and therefore the far∣ther [ 45] from Tyrannie: Nature hauing done so much for them in nothing, as that it made them Lords of truth, whereon all the other goods were builded.

Among which nothing I so much delight to recount, as the memorable friend∣ship

that grew betwixt the two Princes, such as made them more like then the like∣nesse of all other vertues, and made them more neere one to the other, then the neerenes of their bloud could aspire vnto; which I think grew the faster, and the faster was tied betweene them, by reason that Musidorus being elder by three or foure yeares, it was neither so great a difference in age as did take away the delight [ 5] in societie, and yet by the difference there was taken away the occasion of childish contentions; till they had both past ouer the humour of such contentions. For Pyrocles bare reuerence full of loue to Musidorus, and Musidorus had a delight full of loue in Pyrocles. Musidorus, what he had learned either for body or minde, would teach it to Pyrocles; and Pyrocles was so glad to learne of none, as of Musi∣dorus: [ 10] till Pyrocles, being come to sixtene yeares of age, he seemed so to ouerrun his age in growth, strength, and all things following it, that not Musidorus, no nor any man liuing (I thinke) could performe any action, either on horse, or foote, more strongly, or deliuer that strength more nimbly, or become the deliuery more gracefully, or employ all more vertuously. Which may well seeme wonderfull: but [ 15] wonders are no wonders in a wonderfull subiect.

At which time vnderstanding that the King Euarchus, after so many yeares warre, and the conquest of all Pannonia, and almost Thrace, had now brought the conclusion of all to the siege of Bizantium (to the raising of which siege great forces were made) they would needs fall to the practise of those vertues, which they be∣fore [ 20] learned. And therefore the mother of Musidorus nobly yeelding ouer her owne affects to her childrens good (for a mother she was in effect to them both) the rather that they might helpe her beloued brother, they brake off all delayes; which Musidorus for his part thought already had deuoured too much of his good time, but that he had once graunted a boone (before he knew what it was) to his [ 25] deere friend Pyrocles; that he would neuer seeke the aduentures of armes, vntill he might go with him: which hauing fast bound his hart (a true slaue to faith) he had bid a tedious delay of following his owne humour for his friends sake, till now be∣ing both sent for by Euarchus, & finding Pyrocles able euery way to go thorow with that kinde of life, he was as desirous for his sake, as for his owne, to enter into it. So [ 30] therefore preparing a nauie, that they might go like themselues, and not only bring the comfort of their presence, but of their power to their deere parent Euarchus, they recommended themselues to the Sea, leauing the shore of Thessalia full of teares and vowes; and were receiued thereon with so smooth and smiling a face, as if Neptune had as then learned falsely to fawne on Princes. The winde was like a ser∣uaunt, [ 35] wayting behind them so iust, that they might fill the sailes as they listed; and the best saylers shewing themselues lesse couetous of his liberalitie, so tempe∣red it, that they all kept together like a beautifull flocke, which so well could obey their maisters pipe: without sometimes, to delight the Princes eies, some two or three of them would striue, who could (either by the cunning of well spending the [ 40] windes breath, or by the aduantageous building of their moouing houses) leaue their fellowes behind them in the honour of speed: while the two Princes had lea∣sure to see the practise of that, which before they had learned by bookes: to consi∣der the arte of catching the winde prisoner, to no other ende, but to runne away with it; to see how beautie, and vse can so well agree together, that of all the trinc∣kets, [ 45] wherewith they are attired, there is not one but serues to some necessary pur∣pose. And (ô Lord) to see the admirable power and noble effects of Loue, whereby

the seeming insensible Loadstone, with a secret beauty (holding the spirit of iron in it) can draw that hard-harted thing vnto it, and (like a vertuous mistresse) not onely make it bow it selfe, but with it make it aspire to so high a Loue, as of the hea∣uenly Poles; and thereby to bring foorth the noblest deeds, that the children of [ 5] the Earth can boast of. And so the Princes delighting their conceats with confir∣ming their knowledge, seing wherein the Sea-discipline differed from Land-ser∣uice, they had for a day and almost a whole night, as pleasing entertainement, as the falsest hart could giue to him he meanes worst to.

But by that the next morning began a little to make a guilden shewe of a good [ 10] meaning, there arose euen with the Sun, a vaile of darke cloudes before his face, which shortly (like inck powred into water) had blacked ouer all the face of hea∣uen; preparing (as it were) a mournefull stage for a Tragedie to be plaied on-For forthwith the windes began to speake lowder, and as in a tumultuous king∣dome, to thinke themselues fittest instruments of commaundement; and blowing [ 15] whole stormes of hayle and raine vpon them, they were sooner in daunger, then they could almost bethinke themselues of chaunge. For then the traiterous Sea began to swell in pride against the afflicted Nauie, vnder which (while the heauen fauoured them) it had layne so calmely, making mountaines of it selfe, our which the tossed and tottring ship should clime, to be streight carried downe againe to a [ 20] pit of hellish darkenesse; with such cruell blowes against the sides of the shippe (that which way soeuer it went, was still in his malice) that there was left nei∣ther power to stay, nor way to escape. And shortly had it so disseuered the lo∣uing companie, which the daie before had tarried together, that most of them neuer met againe, but were swallowed vp in his neuer-satisfied mouth. Some in∣deed [ 25] (as since was knowne) after long wandring returned into Thessalia; other recouered Bizantium, and serued Euarchus in his warre. But in the ship wherein the Princes were (now left as much alone as proud Lords be when fortune failes them) though they employed all industrie to saue themselues, yet what they did was rather for dutie to nature, then hope to escape. So ougly a d••rkenesse, as if it [ 30] would preuent the nights comming, vsurped the dayes right: which (accom∣panied sometimes with thunders, alwayes with horrible noyses of the chafing winds) made the masters and pilots so astonished, that they knew not how to di∣rect, and if they knew they could scarcely (when they directed) heare their owne whistle. For the sea straue with the winds which should be lowder, and the shrouds [ 35] of the ship with a ghastfull noise to them that were in it, witnessed, that their ruine was the wager of the others contention, and the heauen roaring out thunders the more amazed them, as hauing those powers for enimies. Certainely there is no daunger carries with it more horror, then that which growes in those floting kingdomes. For that dwelling place is vnnaturall to mankind, and then the terrible∣nesse [ 40] of the continuall motion, the desolation of the far-being from comfort, the eye and the eare hauing ougly images euer before it, doth still vex the minde, euen when it is best armed against it. But thus the day past (if that might be called a day) while the cunningest mariners were so conquered by the storme, as they thought it best with striken sailes to yeeld to be gouerned by it: the valiantest feeling in∣ward [ 45] dismayednesse, and yet the fearefullest ashamed fully to ••hewe it, seeing that the Princes (who were to parte from the greatest fortunes) did in theyr countenances accuse no point of feare, but encouraging them to doo what

might be done (putting their hands to euerie most painefull office) taught them at one instant to promise themselues the best, and yet to despise the worst. But so were they carryed by the tyrannie of the winde, and the treason of the sea, all that night, which the elder it was, the more wayward it shewed it selfe towards them: till the next morning (knowne to be a morning better by the houre-glasse, [ 5] then by the day cleerenesse) hauing runne fortune as blindly, as it selfe euer was painted, lest the conclusion should not aunswere to the rest of the play, they were driuen vpon a rocke: which hidden with those outragious waues, did, as it were, closely dissemble his cruell mind, till with an vnbeleeued violence (but to them that haue tried it) the shippe ranne vpon it; and seeming willinger to perish then to [ 10] haue her course stayed, redoubled her blowes, till she had broken her selfe in pee∣ces; and as it were tearing out her owne bowels to feede the seas greedinesse, left nothing within it but despaire of safetie, and expectation of a loathsome end. There was to be seene the diuerse manner of minds in distresse: some sate vpon the top of the poupe weeping and wailing, till the sea swallowed them; some one more able [ 15] to abide death, then feare of death, cut his owne throate to preuent drowning; some prayed, and there wanted not of them which cursed, as if the heauens could not be more angrie then they were. But a monstrous crie begotten of manie roa∣ring voices, was able to infect with feare a minde that had not preuented it with the power of reason. [ 20]

But the Princes vsing the passions of fearing euill, and desiring to escape, only to serue the rule of vertue, not to abandon ones selfe, lept to a ribbe of the ship, which broken from his fellowes, floted with more likelyhood to doo seruice, then any o∣ther limme of that ruinous bodie; vpon which there had gotten alreadie two bre∣thren, well knowne seruants of theirs; and streight they foure were carryed out of [ 25] sight, in that huge rising of the sea, from the rest of the ship. But the peece they were on sinking by little and little vnder them, not able to support the weight of so manie, the brethren (the elder whereof was Leucippus, the younger Nelsus) shew∣ed themselues right faithfull and gratefull seruants vnto them; gratefull (I say) for this cause: Those two gentlemen had bene taken prisoners in the great warre the [ 30] king of Phrygia made vpon Thessalia, in the time of Musidorus his infancie; and ha∣uing beene solde into another countrie (though peace fell after betweene these Realmes) could not be deliuered, because of their valor knowne, but for a farre greater summe, then either all their friends were able, or the Dowager willing to make, in respect of the great expences her selfe and people had bene put to in those [ 35] warres; and so had they remained in prison about thirteene yeares, when the two young Princes (hearing speaches of their good deserts) found meanes both by sel∣ling all the Iewels they had of great price, and by giuing vnder their hands great estates when they should come to be Kings (which promises their vertue promised for them should be kept) to get so much treasure as redeemed them from captiuitie. [ 40] This remembred, and kindly remembred by these two brothers, perchance helped by a naturall duetie to their Princes blood, they willingly left holde of the boord, committing themselues to the seas rage, and euen when they mente to dye, them∣selues praying for the Princes liues. It is true, that neither the paine nor daunger, so moued the Princes hartes as the tendernesse of that louing part, farre from glorie, [ 45] hauing so few lookers on; farre from hope of reward, since themselues were sure to perish.

But now of all the royall Nauie they lately had, they had left but one little peece of one ship, whereon they kept themselues in all trueth, hauing enterchanged their cares, while either cared for other, ech comforting and councelling how to labour for the better, and to abide the worse. But so fell it out, that as they were carryed by [ 5] the tide (which there seconded by the storme ran exceeding swiftly) Musidorus seeing (as he thought) Pyrocles not well vpon the boord, as he would with his right hand haue helped him on better, he had no sooner vnfastned his hold, but that a waue forcibly spoiled his weaker hand of hold; and so for a time parted those friends, each crying to the other, but the noise of the sea drowned their farewell. [ 10] But Pyrocles (then carelesse of death, if it had come by any meanes, but his owne) was shortly brought out of the seas furie to the lands comfort; when (in my con∣science I know) that comfort was but bitter vnto him. And bitter indeed it fell out euen in it selfe to be vnto him.

For being cast on land much brused and beaten both with the Seas hard fare∣well, [ 15] and the shores rude welcome; and euen almost deadly tired with the length of his vncomfortable labour, as he was walking vp to discouer some bodie, to whom he might goe for reliefe, there came streight running vnto him certaine, who (as it was after knowne) by appointment watched (with manie others) in diuerse places along the coast: who laide handes of him, and without either que∣stioning [ 20] with him, or shewing will to heare him, (like men fearefull to appeare cu∣rious) or which was worse hauing no regard to the hard plight he was in (being so wet and weake) they carried him some miles thence, to a house of a principall offi∣cer of that countrie. Who with no more ciuilitie (though with much more busi∣nes then those vnder-fellowes had shewed) began in captious manner to put in∣terrogatories [ 25] vnto him. To which he (vnused to such entertainment) did shortlie and plainely aunswere, what he was, and how he came thither. But that no sooner knowne, with numbers of armed men to garde him (for mischiefe, not from mis∣chiefe) he was sent to the Kings court, which as then was not aboue a dayes iour∣ney off, with letters from that officer, containing his owne seruiceable diligence in [ 30] discouering so great a personage; adding withall more then was true of his con∣iectures, because he would endeare his owne seruice.

This country whereon he fell was Phrygia, and it was to the King thereof to whome he was sent, a Prince of a melancholy constitution both of bodie & mind; wickedly sad, euer musing of horrible matters; suspecting, or rather condemning [ 35] all men of euill, because his minde had no eye to espie goodnesse: and therefore accusing Sycophantes, of all men did best sort to his nature; but therefore not see∣ming Sycophantes, because of no euill they said, they could bring any new or doubt∣full thing vnto him, but such as alreadie he had bene apt to determine; so as they came but as proofes of his wisedome: fearefull and neuer secure; while the feare [ 40] he had figured in his minde had any possibilitie of euent. A tode-like retyrednesse, and closenesse of minde; nature teaching the odiousnesse of poyson, and the daun∣ger of odiousnesse. Yet while youth lasted in him, the exercises of that age, and his humour (not yet fullie discouered) made him something the more frequentable, and lesse daungerous. But after that yeares began to come on with some, though [ 45] more seldome shewes of a bloudie nature, and that the prophecie of Musidorus de∣stenie came to his eares (deliuered vnto him, and receiued of him with the hardest interpretation, as though his subiects did delight in the hearing thereof.) Then

gaue he himselfe indeede to the full currant of his disposition, especially after the warre of Thessalia, wherein (though in trueth wrongly) he deemed, his vnsuccesse proceeded of their vnwillingnes to haue him prosper: and then thinking himselfe contemned, (knowing no countermine against contempt, but terror) began to let nothing passe which might beare the colour of a fault, without sharp punishment: [ 5] and when he wanted faults, excellencie grew a fault; and it was sufficient to make one guiltie, that he had power to be guiltie. And as there is no humour, to which impudent pouertie cannot make itselfe seruiceable, so were there enow of those of desperate ambition, who would build their houses vpon others ruines, which after should fall by like practises. So as seruitude came mainly vpon that poore people, [ 10] whose deedes were not onely punished, but words corrected, and euen thoughts by some meane or other puld out of them: while suspition bred the mind of cruel∣tie, and the effects of crueltie stirred a new cause of suspition. And in this plight (full of watchfull fearefulnes) did the storme deliuer sweete Pyrocles to the stormie minde of that Tyrant, all men that did such wrong to so rare a stranger (whose [ 15] countenaunce deserued both pitie and admiration) condemning themselues as much in their hearts, as they did brag in their forces.

But when this bloudy King knew what he was, and in what order he and his cosin Musidorus (so much of him feared) were come out of Thessalia, assuredly thin∣king (because euer thinking the worst) that those forces were prouided against [ 20] him; glad of the perishing (as he thought) of Musidorus, determined in publique sort to put Pyrocles to death. For hauing quite lost the way of noblenes, he straue to clime to the height of terriblenes; and thinking to make all men adread, to make such one an enemie, who would not spare, nor feare to kill so great a Prince; and lastly, hauing nothing in him why to make him his friend, he thought, he woulde [ 25] take him away, from being his enemie. The day was appointed, and all things ap∣pointed for that cruell blow, in so solemne an order, as if they would set foorth ty∣ranny in most gorgeous decking. The Princely youth of inuincible valour, yet so vniustly subiected to such outragious wrong, carrying himself in all his demeanure so constantly, abiding extremitie, that one might see it was the cutting away of the [ 30] greatest hope of the world, and destroying vertue in his sweetest grouth.

But so it fell out that his death was preuented by a rare example of friendship in Musidorus: who being almost drowned, had bene taken vp by a Fisherman be∣longing to the kingdome of Pontus; and being there, and vnderstanding the full discourse (as Fame was very prodigall of so notable an accident) in what case Pyro∣cles [ 35] was; learning withall, that his hate was farre more to him then to Pyrocles, hee found meanes to acquaint him selfe with a noble-man of that Countrie, to whome largely discouering what he was, he found him a most fit instrument to effectuate his desire. For this noble-man had bene one, who in many warres had serued Euar∣chus, and had bene so mind-striken by the beautie of vertue in that noble King, [ 40] that (though not borne his Subiect) he euer profest himselfe his seruaunt. His de∣sire therefore to him was, to keepe Musidorus in a strong Castle of his, and then to make the King of Phrygia vnderstand, that if he would deliuer Pyrocles, Musidorus would willingly put him selfe into his hands: knowing well, that how thirstie so e∣uer he was of Pyrocles bloud, he would rather drinke that of Musidorus. [ 45]

The Nobleman was loath to preserue one by the losse of another, but time vrging resolution: the importunitie of Musidorus (who shewed a minde not to

ouer-liue Pyrocles) with the affection he bare to Euarchus, so preuayled, that he car∣ried this strange offer of Musidorus, which by that Tyrant was greedelie accepted.

And so vpon securitie of both sides, they were enterchanged. Where I may not omitte the worke of friendshippe in Pyrocles, who both in speache and coun∣tenance [ 5] to Musidorus, well shewed, that he thought himselfe iniured, and not re∣leeued by him: asking him, what he had euer seene in him, why he could not beare the extremities of mortall accidentes as well as any man? and why he should enuie him the glorie of suffering death for his friendes cause, and (as it were) robbe him of his owne possession? But in this notable contention, (where the [ 10] conquest must be the conquerers destruction, and safetie the punishment of the conquered) Musidorus preuayled: because he was a more welcome praie to the vniust King, and as chearefully going towardes, as Pyrocles went frowardly from∣ward his death, he was deliuered to the King, who could not be inough sure of him, without he fed his owne eies vpon one, whom he had begon to feare, as [ 15] soone as the other began to be.

Yet because he would in one acte, both make ostentation of his owne felicitie (into whose hands his most feared enemie was fallen) and withall cut of such hopes from his suspected subiects (when they should knowe certainly he was dead) with much more skilfull crueltie, and horrible solemnitie he caused each thing to be [ 20] prepared for his triumph of tyrannie. And so the day being come, he was led foorth by many armed men (who often had beene the fortifiers of wickednes) to the place of execution: where comming with a minde comforted in that he had done such seruice to Pyrocles, this strange encounter he had.

The excelling Pyrocles was no sooner deliuered by the kings seruants to a place [ 25] of liberty, then he bent his witte and courage, (and what would not they bring to passe?) how ether to deliuer Musidorus, or to perish with him. And (finding he could get in that countrie no forces sufficient by force to rescue him) to bring him∣selfe to die with him, (little hoping of better euent) he put himselfe in poore ray∣ment, and by the helpe of some few crownes he tooke of that noble-man, (who full [ 30] of sorrow, though not knowing the secrete of his intent, suffered him to goe in such order from him) he (euen he, borne to the greatest expectation, and of the greatest bloud that any Prince might be) submitted himselfe to be seruant to the executio∣ner that should put to death Musidorus: a farre notabler proofe of his friendship, considering the height of his minde, then any death could be. That bad officer not [ 35] suspecting him, being araied fit for such an estate, and hauing his beautie hidden by many foule spots he artificially put vpon his face, gaue him leaue not onely to weare a sworde himselfe, but to beare his sworde prepared for the iustified mur∣ther. And so Pyrocles taking his time, when Musidorus was vpon the scaffold (sepa∣ra••ed somewhat from the rest, as allowed to say something) he stept vnto him, and [ 40] putting the sworde into his hande not bound (a point of ciuility the officers vsed towards him, because they doubted no such enterprise) Musidorus (said he) die nobly. In truth, neuer man betweene ioy before knowledge what to be glad of, and feare after considering his case, had such a confusion of thoughts, as I had, when I saw Pyrocles, so neare me. But with that Dorus blushed, and Pamela smiled: and [ 45] Dorus the more blushed at her smiling, and she the more smiled at his blushing; be∣cause he had (with the remembraunce of that plight he was in) forgotten in spea∣king of him selfe to vse the third person. But Musidorus turned againe her thoughts

from his cheekes to his tongue in this sort: But (said he) when they were with swordes in handes, not turning backs one to the other (for there they knew was no place of defence) but making it a preseruation in not hoping to be preserued, and now acknowledging themselues subiect to death, meaning onely to do honour to their princely birth, they flew amongst them all (for all were enimies) and had [ 5] quickly either with flight or death, left none vpon the scaffold to annoy them. Wherein Pyrocles (the excellent Pyrocles) did such wonders beyond beliefe, as was hable to leade Musidorus to courage, though he had bene borne a coward. But in∣deed, iust rage and desperate vertue did such effects, that the popular sort of the be∣holders began to be almost superstitiously amazed, as at effects beyond mortall po∣wer. [ 10] But the King with angry threatnings from-out a window (where he was not ashamed, the world should behold him a beholder) commaunded his gard, and the rest of his souldiers to hasten their death. But many of them lost their bodies to loose their soules, when the Princes grew almost so weary, as they were ready to be conquered with conquering. [ 15]

But as they were still fighting with weake armes, and strong harts, it happened, that one of the souldiers (commaunded to go vp after his fellowes against the Prin∣ces) hauing receiued a light hurt, more wounded in his hart, went backe with as much diligence, as he came vp with modestie: which another of his fellowes see∣ing, to pike a thanke of the King, strake him vpon the face, reuiling him, that so ac∣companied, [ 20] he would runne away from so fewe. But he (as many times it falls out) onely valiant, when he was angrie, in reuenge thrust him through: which with his death was streight reuenged by a brother of his: and that againe requited by a fellow of the others. There began to be a great tumult amongst the souldiers; which seene, and not vnderstood by the people (vsed to feares but not vsed to be [ 25] bolde in them) some began to crie treason; and that voice streight multiplying it selfe, the King (O the cowardise of a guiltie conscience) before any man set vpon him, fled away. Where-with a bruit (either by arte of some well meaning men, or by such chaunce as such things often fall out by) ran from one to the other, that the King was slaine; wherewith certaine yong men of the brauest mindes, cried [ 30] with lowde voice, Libertie; and encouraging the other Citizens to follow them, set vpon the garde, and souldiers as chiefe instruments of Tyrannie: and quickly, aided by the Princes, they had left none of them aliue, nor any other in the cittie, who they thought had in any sort set his hand to the worke of their seruitude, and (God knowes) by the blindnesse of rage, killing many guiltles persons, either for [ 35] affinity to the Tyrant, or enmitie to the tyrant-killers. But some of the wiser (seeing that a popular licence is indeede the many-headed tyranny) preuailed with the rest to make Musidorus their chiefe: choosing one of them (because Princes) to de∣fend them, and him because elder and most hated of the Tyrant, and by him to be ruled: whom foorthwith they lifted vp, Fortune (I thinke) smiling at her worke [ 40] therein, that a scaffold of execution should grow a scaffold of coronation.

But by and by there came newes of more certaine truth, that the King was not dead, but fled to a strong castle of his, neere hand, where he was gathering forces in all speed possible to suppresse this mutinie. But now they had run themselues too farre out of breath, to go backe againe the same career; and too well they knew [ 45] the sharpnesse of his memorie to forget such an iniury; therefore learning vertue of necessitie, they continued resolute to obey Musidorus. Who seing what forces

were in the citie, with them issued against the Tyrant, while they were in this heat; before practises might be vsed to disseuer them: and with them met the King, who likewise hoping little to preuaile by time, (knowing and finding his peoples hate) met him with little delay in the field: where him selfe was slaine by Musidorus, [ 5] after he had seene his onely sonne (a Prince of great courage & beautie, but fostred in bloud by his naughty Father) slaine by the hand of Pyrocles. This victory obtei∣ned, with great, and truly not vndeserued honour to the two Princes, the whole estates of the country with one consent, gaue the crowne and all other markes of soueraigntie to Musidorus; desiring nothing more, then to liue vnder such a go∣uernment, [ 10] as they promised themselues of him.

But he thinking it a greater greatnes to giue a kingdome, then get a kingdome; vnderstanding that there was left of the bloud Roiall, and next to the succession, an aged Gentleman of approued goodnes (who had gotten nothing by his cousins power, but danger from him, and odiousnes for him) hauing past his time in modest [ 15] secrecy, and asmuch from entermedling in matters of gouernment, as the greatnesse of his bloud would suffer him, did (after hauing receiued the full power to his owne hands) resigne all to the noble-man: but with such conditions, and cautions of the conditions, as might assure the people (with asmuch assurance as worldly matters beare) that not onely that gouernour, of whom indeed they looked for all [ 20] good, but the nature of the gouernment, should be no way apt to decline to Tyranny.

This dooing set foorth no lesse his magnificence, then the other act did his magnanimitie: so that greatly praysed of all, and iustly beloued of the new King, who in all both wordes and behauiour protested him selfe their Tenaunt, and [ 25] Liegeman, they were drawne thence to reuenge those who seruants of theirs, of whose memorable faith, I told you (most excellent Princesse) in willingly giuing themselues to be drowned for their sakes: but drowned indeed they were not, but gat with painefull swimming vpon a rocke: from whence (after being come as neere famishing, as before drowning) the weather breaking vp, they were brought [ 30] to the maine land of Pontus; the same country vpon which Musidorus also was fallen, but not in so luckie a place.

For they were brought to the King of that country, a Tyrant also, not thorow suspition, greedines, or reuengefulnes, as he of Phrygia, but (as I may terme it) of a wanton crueltie: inconstant in his choise of friends, or rather neuer hauing a friend, [ 35] but a playfellow; of whom when he was wearie, he could not otherwise rid him∣selfe, then by killing them: giuing somtimes prodigally, not because he loued them to whom he gaue, but because he lusted to giue: punishing, not so much for hate or anger, as because he felt not the smart of punishment: delighted to be flattered, at first for those vertues which were not in him, at length making his vices vertues [ 40] worthy the flattering: with like iudgement glorying, when he had happened to do a thing well, as when he had performed some notable mischiefe.

He chanced at that time (for indeed long time none lasted with him) to haue next in vse about him, a man of the most enuious disposition, that (I think) euer in∣fected the aire with his breath: whose eies could not looke right vpon any happie [ 45] man, nor eares beare the burthen of any bodies praise: contrary to the natures of all other plagues, plagued with others well being; making happines the ground of his vnhappinesse, & good news the argumēt of his sorrow: in sum, a man whose fauour

no man could winne, but by being miserable. And so, because these two faithfull seruants of theirs came in miserable sorte to that Courte, he was apte inough at first to fauour them; and the King vnderstanding of their aduenture, (wherein they had shewed so constant a faith vnto their Lordes) suddainly falles to take a pride in making much of them, extolling them with infinite prayses, and praysing [ 5] him selfe in his harte, in that he praysed them. And by and by were they made great courtiers, and in the way of minions, when aduauncement (the most mor∣tall offence to enuy) stirred vp their former friend, to ouerthrow his owne worke in them; taking occasion vpon the knowledge (newly come to the court) of the late death of the King of Phrygia destroied by their two Lordes, who hauing bene [ 10] a neere kinsman to this Prince of Pontus, by this enuious Councellour, partly with suspition of practise, partly with glory of in-part reuenging his cousins death, the King was suddainly turned, (and euery turne with him was a downe-fall) to locke them vp in prison, as seruaunts to his enimies, whom before he had neuer knowne, nor (till that time one of his owne subiects had entertained and dealt for them) did [ 15] euer take heed of. But now earnest in euery present humour, and making himselfe braue in his liking, he was content to giue them iust cause of offence, when they had power to make iust reuenge. Yet did the Princes send vnto him before they entred into warre, desiring their seruants liberty. But he swelling in their humble∣nes, (like a bubble blowne vp with a small breath, broken with a great) forgetting, [ 20] or neuer knowing humanitie, caused their heads to be striken off, by the aduice of his enuious Councellor (who now hated them so much the more, as he foresaw their happines in hauing such, and so fortunate masters) and sent them with vnroy∣all reproches to Musidorus and Pyrocles, as if they had done traiterously, and not heroically in killing his tyrannicall Cosen. [ 25]

But that iniurie went beyond all degree of reconcilement; so that they making forces in Phrygia (a kingdome wholy at their commandement, by the loue of the people, and gratefulnesse of the King) they entred his country; and wholy con∣quering it (with such deeds as at lest Fame said were excellent) tooke the King; and by Musidorus commaundement (Pyrocles hart more enclining to pitie) he was slaine [ 30] vpon the tombe of their two true Seruants; which they caused to be made for them with royall expences, and notable workmanship to preserue their dead liues. For his wicked Seruant he should haue felt the like, or worse, but that his harte brake euen to death with the beholding the honour done to their dead carcasses. There might Pyrocles quietly haue enioyed that crowne, by all the desire of that [ 35] people, most of whom had reuolted vnto him: but he, finding a sister of the late Kings (a faire and well esteemed Ladie) looking for nothing more, then to be op∣pressed with her brothers ruines, gaue her in marriage to the noble man his fathers old friend, and endowed them with the crowne of that kingdome. And not con∣tent with those publike actions, of princely, and (as it were) gouerning vertue, [ 40] they did (in that kingdome and some other neere about) diuers acts of particu∣lar trials, more famous, because more perilous. For in that time those regions were full both of cruell monsters, and monstrous men: all which in short time by pri∣uate combats they deliuered the countries of.

Among the rest, two brothers of huge both greatnesse and force, therefore com∣monly [ 45] called Giants, who kept themselues in a castle seated vpon the top of a rocke, impregnable, because there was no comming vnto it, but by one narrow path,

where one mans force was able to keepe downe an armie. These brothers had a while serued the King of Pontus, and in all his affaires (especially of war, whereun∣to they were onely apt) they had shewed, as vnconquered courage, so a rude faith∣fulnes: being men indeed by nature apter to the faults of rage, then of deceipt; not [ 5] greatly ambitious, more then to be well and vprightly dealt with; rather impati∣ent of iniury, then delighted with more then ordinary curtesies; and in iniuries more sensible of smart or losse, then of reproch or disgrace. These men being of this nature (and certainely Iewels to a wise man, considering what indeed wonders they were able to performe) yet were discarded by that vnworthy Prince, after ma∣ny [ 10] notable deserts, as not worthy the holding. Which was the more euidēt to thē; because it sodainly fell from an excesse of fauor, which (many examples hauing taught them) neuer stopt his race till it came to an headlong ouerthrow: they ful of rage, retyred thēselues vnto this castle. Where thinking nothing iuster thē reuenge, nor more noble then the effects of anger, that (according to the nature) full of in∣ward [ 15] brauery and fiercenes, scarcely in the glasse of Reason, thinking it selfe faire, but when it is terrible, they immediately gaue themselues to make all the countrie about them (subiect to that King) to smart for their Lords folly: not caring how innocent they were, but rather thinking the more innocent they were, the more it testified their spite, which they desired to manifest. And with vse of euill, gro∣wing [ 20] more and more euill, they tooke delight in slaughter, and pleased themselues in making others wracke the effect of their power: so that where in the time that they obeyed a master, their anger was a seruiceable power of the minde to doo publike good; so now vnbridled, and blinde iudge of it selfe, it made wickednesse violent, and praised it selfe in excellencie of mischiefe; almost to the ruine of the [ 25] countrie, not greatly regarded by their carelesse and louelesse king. Till now these Princes finding them so fleshed in crueltie, as not to be reclaimed, secretly vnder∣tooke the matter alone: for accompanied they would not haue suffered them to haue mounted; and so those great fellowes scornefully receiuing them, as foolish birds falne into their net, it pleased the eternall iustice to make them suffer death by [ 30] their hands: and so they were manifoldly acknowledged the sauers of that countrie.

It were the part of a verie idle Orator to set forth the numbers of wel-deuised honors done vnto them: But as high honor is not onely gotten and borne by paine, and daunger, but must be nurst by the like, or els vanisheth as soone as it ap∣peares to the world: so the naturall hunger thereof (which was in Pyrocles) suffered [ 35] him not to account a resting seate of that, which euer either riseth, or falleth, but still to make one occasion beget another; wherby his doings might send his praise to others mouthes to rebound againe true contentment to his spirit. And there∣fore hauing well established those kingdomes, vnder good gouernours, and rid them by their valure of such giants and monsters, as before time armies were not [ 40] able to subdue, they determined in vnknowne order to see more of the world, and to imploy those gifts esteemed rare in them, to the good of mankinde; and there∣fore would themselues (vnderstanding that the King Euarchus was passed all the cumber of his warres) goe priuately to seeke exercises of their vertue; thinking it not so worthy, to be brought to Heroycall effects by fortune, or necessitie, (like [ 45] Vlysses and Aeneas) as by ones owne choice, and working. And so went they away from verie vnwilling people to leaue them, making time haste it selfe to be a circumstance of their honour, and one place witnesse to another of the truth

of their doings. For scarcely were they out of the confines of Pontus, but that as they ridde alone armed, (for alone they went, one seruing the other) they mette an ad∣uenture; which though not so notable for any great effect they perfourmed, yet worthy to be remembred for the vn-vsed examples therein, as well of true naturall goodnes, as of wretched vngratefulnesse. [ 5]

It was in the kingdome of Galacia, the season being (as in the depth of winter) very cold, and as then sodainely growne to so extreame and foule a storme, that neuer any winter (I thinke) brought foorth a fowler child: so that the Prin∣ces were euen compelled by the haile, that the pride of the winde blew into their faces, to seeke some shrowding place which a certaine hollow rocke offe∣ring [ 10] vnto them, they made it their shield against the tempests furie. And so staying there, till the violence thereof was passed, they heard the speach of a couple, who not perceiuing them (being hidde within that rude canapy) helde a straunge and pitifull disputation which made them steppe out; yet in such sort, as they might see vnseene. There they perceaued an aged man, and a young, scarcely come [ 15] to the age of a man, both poorely arayed, extreamely weather-beaten; the olde man blinde, the young man leading him: and yet through all those miseries, in both there seemed to appeare a kinde of noblenesse, not sutable to that af∣fliction. But the first words they heard, were these of the old man. Well Leonatus (said he) since I cannot perswade thee to leade mee to that which should end [ 20] my griefe, and thy trouble, let me now entreat thee to leaue me: feare not, my miserie cannot be greater then it is, and nothing doth become me but miserie; feare not the danger of my blind steps, I cannot fall worse then I am. And doo not I pray thee, doo not obstinately continue to infect thee with my wretchednes. But flie, flie from this region, onely worthy of me. Deare father (answered he) [ 25] doo not take away from me the onely remnant of my happinesse: while I haue power to doo you seruice, I am not wholly miserable. Ah my sonne (said he, and with that he groned, as if sorrow straue to breake his harte,) how euill fits it me to haue such a sonne, and how much doth thy kindnesse vpbraide my wickednesse? These dolefull speeches, and some others to like purpose (well shewing they had [ 30] not bene borne to the fortune they were in,) moued the Princes to goe out vnto them, and aske the younger what they were? Sirs (answered he, with a good grace, and made the more agreable by a certaine noble kinde of pitiousnes) I see well you are straungers, that know not our miserie so well here knowne, that no man dare know, but that we must be miserable. In deede our state is such, as though [ 35] nothing is so needfull vnto vs as pittie, yet nothing is more daungerous vnto vs, then to make our selues so knowne as may stirre pittie. But your presence promi∣seth, that cruelty shall not ouer-runne hate. And if it did, in truth our state is soncke below the degree of feare.

This old man (whom I leade) was lately rightfull Prince of this countrie of [ 40] Paphlagonia, by the hard-harted vngratefulnes of a sonne of his, depriued, not onely of his kingdome (whereof no forraine forces were euer able to spoyle him) but of his sight, the riches which Nature graunts to the poorest creatures. Whereby, and by other his vnnaturall dealings, he hath bin driuen to such griefe, as euen now he would haue had me to haue led him to the toppe of this rocke, thence to cast [ 45] himselfe headlong to death: and so would haue made me (who receiued my life of him) to be the worker of his destruction. But noble Gentlemen (said he) if either

of you haue a father, and feele what duetifull affection is engraffed in a sonnes hart, let me entreate you to conuay this afflicted Prince to some place of rest and securi∣tie. Amongst your worthie actes it shall be none of the least, that a King, of such might and fame, and so vniustlie oppressed, is in any sort by you relieued.

[ 5] But before they coulde make him aunswere, his father began to speake. Ah my sonne (said he) how euill an Historian are you, that leaue out the chiefe knot of all the discourse? my wickednes, my wickednes. And if thou doest it to spare my ears, (the onely sense now left mee proper for knowledge) assure thy selfe thou doest mistake me. And I take witnesse of that Sunne which you see (with that he cast vp [ 10] his blinde eies, as if he would hunt for light,) and wish my selfe in worse case then I doe wish my selfe, which is as euill as may bee, if I speake vntruely; that nothing is so welcome to my thoughts, as the publishing of my shame. Therefore know you Gentlemen (to whome from my heart I wish that it may not proue some ominous foretoken of misfortune to haue met with such a miser as I am) that whatsoeuer my [ 15] sonne (ô God, that truth bindes me to reproch him with the name of my son) hath saide, is true. But besides those truthes, this also is true, that hauing had in lawfull mariage, of a mother fitte to beare roiall children, this sonne (such a one as partly you see, and better shall knowe by my short declaration) and so enioyed the expec∣tations in the world of him, till he was growen to iustifie their expectations (so as I [ 20] needed enuie no father for the chiefe comfort of mortalitie, to leaue an other ones-selfe after me) I was caried by a bastard sonne of mine (if at least I bee bounde to be∣leeue the words of that base woman my concubine, his mother) first to mislike, then to hate, lastly to destroy, or to doo my best to destroy, this sonne (I thinke you thinke) vndeseruing destruction. What waies be vsed to bring me to it, if I shoulde [ 25] tell you, I shoulde tediouslie trouble you with as much poisonous hypocrisie, des∣perate fraude, smooth malice, hidden ambition, and smiling enuie, as in any liuing person could be harbored. But I list it not; no remembraunce, of naughtinesse de∣lightes me, but mine owne; and me thinkes, the accusing his trappes might in some manner excuse my fault, which certainelie I loth to doo. But the conclusion is, that [ 30] I gaue order to some seruauntes of mine, whome I thought as apte for such charities as my selfe, to lead him out into a forrest, and there to kill him.

But those theeues (better natured to my sonne then my selfe) spared his life, let∣ting him goe, to learne to liue poorelie: which he did, giuing himselfe to be a pri∣uate souldier, in a countrey here by. But as hee was ready to be greatlie aduaunced [ 35] for some noble peeces of seruice which he did, he heard newes of me: who (dronke in my affection to that vnlawfull and vnnaturall sonne of mine) suffered my selfe so to be gouerned by him, that all fauours and punishments passed by him, all offices, and places of importance, distributed to his fauorites; so that ere I was aware, I had left my selfe nothing but the name of a King: which he shortly wearie of too, with [ 40] manie indignities (if any thing may be called an indignitie, which was laide vppon me) threw me out of my seate, and put out my eies; and then (proud in his tiran∣nie) let me goe, neither imprisoning, nor killing me: but rather delighting to make me feele my miserie; miserie in deede, if euer there were any; full of wretchednesse, fuller of disgrace, and fullest of guiltines. And as he came to the crowne by so vn∣iust [ 45] meanes, as vniustlie he kept it, by force of straunger souldiers in Cittadels, the nestes of tirannie, and murderers of libertie; disarming all his own countrimen, that no man durst shew himselfe a well-willer of mine; to say the truth (I thinke) few of

them being so (considering my cruell folly to my good sonne, and foolish kind∣nesse to my vnkinde bastard:) but if there were any who felt a pitty of so great a fall, and had yet any sparkes of vnslaine duety lefte in them towardes me; yet durst they not shewe it, scarcely with giuing mee almes at their doores; which yet was the onely sustenaunce of my distressed life, no body daring to shewe so much cha∣ritie, [ 5] as to lende mee a hande to guide my darke steppes: Till this sonne of mine (God knowes, woorthy of a more vertuous, and more fortunate fa∣ther) forgetting my abhominable wronges, not recking daunger, and neglecting the present good way hee was in of doing himselfe good, came hether to doo this kinde office you see him performe towardes me, to my vnspeakeable griefe; not on∣ly [ 10] because his kindnes is a glasse euen to my blind eies, of my naughtines, but that aboue all griefes, it greeues me he should desperatlie aduenture the losse of his well deseruing life for mine, that yet owe more to fortune for my deserts, as if hee would cary mudde in a chest of christall. For well I know, he that now raigneth, howe much so euer (and with good reason) he despiseth me, of all men despised; yet hee [ 15] will not let slippe any aduantage to make away him, whose iust title (ennobled by courage and goodnes) may one day shake the seate of a neuer secure tyrannie. And for this cause I craued of him to leade mee to the toppe of this rocke, indeede I must confesse, with meaning to free him from so Serpentine a companion as I am. But he finding what I purposed, onely therein since hee was borne, shewed [ 20] himselfe disobedient vnto mee. And now gentlemen, you haue the true storie, which I pray you publish to the world, that my mischieuous proceedinges may bee the glorie of his filiall pietie, the onely reward now left for so great a merite. And if it may be, let me obtaine that of you, which my sonne denies me: for neuer was there more pity in sauing any, then in ending me; both because therein my agonies [ 25] shall ende, and so shall you preserue this excellent young man, who els wilfully fol∣lowes his owne ruine.

The matter in it selfe lamentable, lamentably expressed by the old Prince (which needed not take to himselfe the gestures of pitie, since his face coulde not put of the markes thereof) greatly moued the two Princes to compassion, which coulde [ 30] not stay in such harts as theirs without seeking remedie. But by and by the occasion was presented: for Plexirtus (so was the bastard called) came thether with fortie horse, onely of purpose to murder this brother; of whose comming he had soone aduertisement, and thought no eyes of sufficient credite in such a matter, but his owne; and therefore came himselfe to be actor, and spectator. And as soone as hee [ 35] came, not regarding the weake (as hee thought) garde of but two men, commaun∣ded some of his followers to set their handes to his, in the killing of Leonatus. But the young Prince (though not otherwise armed but with a sworde) howe falsely soeuer he was dealt with by others, would not betray him selfe: but braue∣ly drawing it out, made the death of the first that assayled him, warne his fellowes [ 40] to come more warily after him. But then Pyrocles and Musidorus were quickly be∣come parties (so iust a defence deseruing as much as old friendship) and so did be∣haue them among that companie (more iniurious, then valiant) that many of them lost their liues for their wicked maister.

Yet perhaps had the number of them at last preuailed, if the King of Pontus (late∣ly [ 45] by them made so) had not come vnlooked for to their succour. Who (hauing had a dreame which had fixt his imagination vehemently vpon some great daunger

presently to follow those two Princes whom hee most dearely loued) was come in al hast, following as wel as he could their track with a hundreth horses in that coun∣trie, which he thought (considering who then raigned) a fitte place inough to make the stage of any Tragedie.

[ 5] But then the match had beene so ill made for Plexirtus, that his ill-led life, and worse gotten honour should haue tumbled together to destruction; had there not come in Tydeus and Telenor, with forty or fifty in their suite, to the defence of Plex∣irtus. These two were brothers, of the noblest house of that country, brought vppe from their infancy with Plexirtus: men of such prowesse, as not to knowe feare in [ 10] themselues, and yet to teach it others that shoulde deale with them: for they had often made their liues triumph ouer most terrible daungers; neuer dismaied, and e∣uer fortunate; and truely no more setled in valure, then disposed to goodnes and iustice, if either they had lighted on a better friend, or could haue learned to make friendship a childe, and not the father of Vertue. But bringing vp (rather then [ 15] choise) hauing first knit their mindes vnto him, (indeede crafty inough, either to hide his faultes, or neuer to shewe them, but when they might pay home) they wil∣lingly helde out the course, rather to satisfie him, then all the worlde; and rather to be good friendes, then good men: so as though they did not like the euill hee did, yet they liked him that did the euill; and though not councellors of the offence, yet [ 20] protectors of the offender. Now they hauing heard of this sodaine going out, with so small a company, in a countrey full of euill-wishing mindes toward him (though they knew not the cause) followed him; till they founde him in such case as they were to venture their liues, or else he to loose his: which they did with such force of minde and bodie, that truely I may iustly say, Pyrocles and Musidorus had neuer [ 25] till then found any, that could make them so well repeate their hardest lesson in the feates of armes. And briefly so they did, that if they ouercame not; yet were they not ouercome, but caried away that vngratefull maister of theirs to a place of secu∣rity; howsoeuer the Princes laboured to the contrary. But this matter being thus farre begun, it became not the constancy of the Princes so to leaue it; but in all hast [ 30] making forces both in Pontus and Phrigia, they had in fewe daies, lefte him but one∣ly that one strong place where he was. For feare hauing beene the onely knot that had fastned his people vnto him, that once vntied by a greater force, they all scatte∣red from him; like so many birdes, whose cage had beene broken.

In which season the blinde King (hauing in the chiefe cittie of his Realme, set [ 35] the crown vppon his son Leonatus head) with many teares (both of ioy and sorrow) setting forth to the whole people, his owne fault and his sonnes vertue, after he had kist him, and forst his sonne to accept honour of him (as of his new-become sub∣iect) euen in a moment died, as it should seeme: his heart broken with vnkindenes and affliction, stretched so farre beyond his limits with this excesse of comfort, as it [ 40] was able no longer to keepe safe his vitall spirites. But the new King (hauing no lesse louingly performed all dueties to him dead, then aliue) pursued on the siege of his vnnaturall brother, asmuch for the reuenge of his father, as for the establishing of his owne quiet. In which siege truely I cannot but acknowledge the prowesse of those two brothers, then whome the Princes neuer found in all their trauaile two [ 45] of greater hability to performe, nor of habler skil for conduct.

But Plexirtus finding, that if nothing else, famine would at last bring him to de∣struction, thought better by humblenes to creepe, where by pride he coulde not

marche. For certainely so had nature formed him, and the exercise of craft con••or∣med him to all turningnes of of sleights, that though no man had lesse goodnes in his soule then he, no man could better find the places whence arguments might grow of goodnesse to another: though no man felt lesse pitie, no man could tel bet∣ter how to stir pitie: no man more impudent to deny, where proofes were not ma∣nifest; [ 5] no man more ready to confesse with a repenting manner of aggrauating his owne euill, where denial would but make the fault fowler. Now he tooke this way that hauing gotten a pasport for one (that pretended he woulde put Plexirtus aliue into his hands) to speake with the King his brother, he him selfe (though much a∣gainst the minds of the valiant brothers, who rather wished to die in braue defence) [ 10] with a rope about his necke, barefooted, came to offer himselfe to the discretion of Leonatus. Where what submission hee vsed, how cunningly in making greater the faulte he made the faultines the lesse, how artificially he could set out the torments of his owne conscience, with the burdensome comber he had found of his ambiti∣ous desires, how finely seeming to desire nothing but death, as ashamed to liue, he [ 15] begd life, in the refusing it, I am not cunning inough to be able to expresse: but so fell out of it, that though at first sight Leonatus saw him with no other eie, then as the murderer of his father; and anger already began to paint reuenge in many colours, ere long he had not onely gotten pitie, but pardon, and if not an excuse of the faulte past, yet an opinion of a future amendment: while the poore villaines (chiefe mi∣nisters [ 20] of his wickednes, now betraied by the author thereof,) were deliuered to ma∣ny cruell sorts of death; he so handling it, that it rather seemed, hee had more come into the defence of an vnremediable mischiefe already committed, then that they had done it at first by his consent.

In such sort the Princes left these reconciled brothers (Plexirtus in all his behaui∣our [ 25] carying him in far lower degree of seruice, then the euer-noble nature of Leona∣tus would suffer him) and taking likewise their leaues of their good friend the King of Pontus (who returned to enioy their benefite, both of his wife and kingdome) they priuately went thence, hauing onely with them the two valiant brothers, who would needs accompanie them, through diuers places; they foure dooing actes [ 30] more daungerous, though lesse famous, because they were but priuat chiualries: till hearing of the faire and vertuous Queene Erona of Lycia, besieged by the puissant King of Armenia, they bent themselues to her succour, both because the weaker (and weaker as being a Ladie,) and partly because they heard the King of Armenia had in his company three of the most famous men liuing, for matters of armes, that were [ 35] knowne to be in the worlde. Whereof one was the Prince Plangus, (whose name was sweetned by your breath, peerlesse Ladie, when the last daie it pleased you to men∣tion him vnto me) the other two were two great Princes (though holding of him) Barzanes and Euardes, men of Giant-like bothe hugenes and force: in which two es∣pecially, the trust the King had of victorie, was reposed. And of them, those bro∣thers [ 40] Tydeus and Telenor (sufficient iudges in warlike matters) spake so high commen∣dations, that the two Princes had euen a youthfull longing to haue some triall of their vertue. And therefore as soone as they were entred into Lycia they ioyned themselues with thē that faithfully serued the poore Queene, at that time besieged: & ere long animated in such sort their almost ouerthrowne harts, that they went by [ 45] force to relieue the towne, though they were depriued of a great part of their strēgth by the parting of the two brothers, who were sent for in all hast to returne to their

old friend and maister, Plexirtus: who (willingly hood-winking themselues from seeing his faultes, and binding themselues to beleeue what he said) often abused the vertue of courage to defend his fowle vice of iniustice. But now they were sent for to aduaunce a conquest he was about; while Pyrocles and Musidorus pursued the [ 5] deliuerie of the Queene Erona.

I haue heard (saide Pamela) that parte of the story of Plangus when hee passed through this country: therefore you may (if you list) passe ouer that warre of Ero∣naes quarrell, lest if you speake too much of warre matters, you should wake Mopsa, which might happily breed a great broile. He looked, and saw that Mopsa indeede [ 10] sat swallowing of sleepe with open mouth, making such a noise withall, as no bo∣die could lay the stealing of a nappe to her charge. Whereupon, willing to vse that occasion, he kneeled downe, and with humble-hartednesse, and hardy earnestnes printed in his graces, Alas (said he) diuine Lady, who haue wrought such mira∣cles in me, as to make a Prince (none of the basest) to thinke all principalities base, [ 15] in respect of the sheephooke, which may hold him vp in your sight; vouchsafe now at last to heare in direct words my humble sute, while this dragon sleepes, that keeps the golden fruite. If in my desire I wish, or in my hopes aspire, or in my imaginati∣on faine to my selfe any thing which may bee the lest spot to that heauenly vertue, which shines in all your doings; I pray the eternall powers, that the words I speake [ 20] may be deadly poysons, while they are in my mouth, and that all my hopes, all my desires, all my imaginations, may onely worke their owne confusion. But if loue, loue of you, loue of your vertues, seeke onely that fauour of you, which becom∣meth that gratefulnes, which cannot misbecome your excellencie, O doo not: He would haue said further, but Pamela calling aloud Mopsa, she sodainly start vp, stag∣gering, [ 25] and rubbing her eies, ran first out of the doore, and then backe to them, be∣fore she knew how she went out, or why she came in againe: till at length, being fully come to her little selfe, she asked Pamela, why she had called her. For nothing (said Pamela) but that you might heare some tales of your seruants telling and: ther∣fore now (said she Dorus go on.

[ 30] But as he (who found no so good sacrifice, as obedience) was returning to the story of himselfe, Philoclea came in, and by and by after her, Miso; so as for that time they were faine to let Dorus departe. But Pamela (delighted euen to preserue in her memory, the words of so well a beloued speaker) repeated the whole substance to her sister, till their sober dinner being come and gone, to recreate themselues some∣thing, [ 35] (euen tyred with the noysomnes of Misos conuersation) they determyned to goe (while the heate of the day lasted) to bath themselues (such being the manner of the Arcadian nymphes often to doo) in the riuer of Ladon, and take with them a Lute, meaning to delight them vnder some shadow. But they could not stir, but that Miso with her daughter Mopsa was after them: and as it lay in their way to passe [ 40] by the other lodge, Zelmane out of her window espied them, and so stale down after them: which shee might the better doo because that Gynecia was sicke, and Basi∣lius (that day being his birth-day) according to his maner, was busie about his de∣uotions; and therefore she went after, hoping to finde some time to speake with Philoclea: but not a word could shee beginne, but that Miso would bee one of the [ 45] audience; so that shee was driuen to recommend thinking, speaking, and all, to her eyes, who diligently perfourmed her trust, till they came to the riuers side which of all the riuers of Greece had the price for excellent purenesse and sweetenesse,

in so much as the verie bathing in it, was accounted exceeding healthfull. It ranne vpon so fine and delicate a ground, as one coulde not easely iudge, whether the Riuer did more wash the grauell, or the grauell did purifie the Riuer; the Riuer not running forth right, but almost continually winding, as if the lower streames would returne to their spring, or that the Riuer had a delight to play with it selfe. [ 5] The banckes of either side seeming armes of the louing earth, that faine woulde embrace it; and the Riuer a wanton nymph which still would slippe from it; either side of the bancke being fringed with most beautifull trees, which resisted the sunnes dartes from ouer-much pearcing the naturall coldnes of the Riuer. There was the 〈…〉〈…〉 But among the rest a [ 10] goodly Cypres, who bowing her faire head ouer the water, it seemed she looked into it, & dressed her greene lockes, by that rūning Riuer. There the Princesses dete••mi∣ning to bathe thēselus, though it was so priuiledged a place, vpō pain of death, as on bodie durst presume to come thither, yet for the more surety, they looked round a∣bout, and could see nothing but a water spaniell, who came downe the riuer•• sh••w∣ing [ 15] that he hunted for a duck, & with a snuffling grace, disdaining that his smelling force could not as well preuaile thorow the water, as thorow the aire; & therefore wayting with his eye, to see whether he could espie the duckes g••tting vp a gaine: but then a little below them failing of his purpose, he got out of the riuer, & shaking off the water (as great men do their friends, now he had no further cause to vse it) in∣weeded [ 20] himselfe so, as the Ladies lost the further marking his sportfulnesse: & inui∣ting Zelmane also to wash her selfe with them, & she ••xcusing her selfe with hauing takē a late cold, they begā by peece-meale to take away the eclipsing of their apparel.

Zelmane would haue put to her helping hand, but she was taken with such a qui∣uering, that shee thought it more wisedome to leane herselfe to a tree and looke [ 25] on, while Miso and Mopsa (like a couple of foreswat melters) were getting the pure siluer of their bodies out of the vre of their garments. But as the rayments went of to receaue kisses of the ground, Zelmane enuied the happinesse of all, but of the smocke was euen iealous, and when that was taken away too, and that Phil••clea re∣mained (for her Zelmane onely marked) like a Dya••on taken from out the rocke, or [ 30] rather like the Sun getting from vnder a cloud, and shewing his naked beames to the full vew, then was the beautie too much for a patient sight, the delight too strong for a stayed conceipt: so that Zelmane could not choose but runne, to touch, ••mbrace and kisse her; But conscience made her come to her selfe, and leaue Philoclea, who blushing, and withall smiling, making shamefastnes••e pleasant, and pleasure shame∣fast, [ 35] tenderly moued her feete, vnwonted to feele the naked ground, till the touch of the cold water made a prettie kinde of shrugging come ouer her bodie, like the twinckling of the fairest among the fixed stars. But the Riuer it selfe gaue way vnto her, so that she was streight brest high; which was the deepest that there-about shee could be: & when cold Ladon had once fully imbraced th••m, himselfe was no more [ 40] so cold to those Ladies, but as if his cold complexion had bene heated with loue, so seemed he to play about euery part he could touch.

Ah sweete, now sweetest Ladon (said Zelmane) why dost thou not s••ay thy course to haue more full tast of thy happines? But the reason is manifest, the vpper streames make such haste to haue their part of embracing, that the nether (though [ 45] lothly) must needes giue place vnto them. O happie Ladon, within whom shee is, vpō whom her beautie fals, thorow whom her eye perceth. O happy Ladon, which

art now an vnperfect mirror of all perfection, canst thou euer forget the blessednes of this impression? if thou do, then let thy bed be turned from fine grauel, to weeds and mudde; if thou doo, let some vniust niggards make weres to spoile thy beauty; if thou do, let some greater riuer fall into thee, to take away the name of Ladon. Oh [ 5] Ladon, happie Ladon, rather slide then run by her, lest thou shouldest make her legs slippe from her; and then, O happy Ladon, who would then call thee, but the most cursed Ladon? But as the Ladies plaid them in the water, somtimes striking it with their hands, the water (making lines in his face) seemed to smile at such beating, and with twenty bubbles, not to be content to haue the picture of their face in large [ 10] vpon him, but he would in ech of those bubbles set forth the miniature of them.

But Zelmane, whose sight was gaine-said by nothing but the transparent vaile of Ladon, (like a chamber where a great fire is kept, though the fire be at one stay, yet with the continuance continually hath his heate encreased) had the coales of her affection so kindled with wonder, and blowne with delight, that now all her parts [ 15] grudged, that her eyes should doo more homage, then they, to the Princesse of them. In so much that taking vp the Lute, her wit began to be with a diuine furie inspired; her voice would in so beloued an occasion second her wit; her hands ac∣corded the Lutes musicke to the voice; her panting hart daunced to the musicke; while I thinke her feete did beate the time; while her bodie was the roome where [ 20] it should be celebrated; her soule the Queene which should be delighted. And so togither went the vtterance and the inuention, that one might iudge, it was Philo∣cleas beautie which did speedily write it in her eyes; or the sense thereof, which did word by word endite it in her minde, whereto she (but as an organ) did onely lend vtterance. The song was to this purpose.

[ 25] WHat toong can her perfections tell In whose each part all pens may dwell? Her haire fine threeds of finest gould In curled knots mans thought to hold: [ 30] But that her fore-head sayes in me A whiter beautie you may see. Whiter indeed; more white then snow, Which on cold winters face doth grow. That doth present those euen browes, [ 35] Whose equall line their angles bowes, Like to the Moone when after chaunge Her horned head abroad doth raunge: And arches be to heauenly lids, Whose winke ech bold attempt forbids. [ 40] For the blacke starres those Spheares containe, The matchlesse paire, euen praise doth staine. No lampe, whose light by Art is got, No Sunne, which shines, and seeth not, Can liken them without all peere, [ 45] Saue one as much as other cleere: Which onely thus vnhappie be, Because themselues they cannot see.

Her cheekes with kindly claret spred. Aurora like new out of bed, Or like the fresh Queene-apples side, Blushing at sight of Phoebus pride. Her nose, her chinne pure iuorie weares: [ 5] No purer then the pretie eares. So that therein appeares some blood, Like wine and milke that mingled stood. In whose Incirclets if ye gaze, Your eyes may tread a Louers maze. [ 10] But with such turnes the voice to stray, No talke vntaught can finde the way. The tippe no iewell needes to weare: The tippe is iewell of the eare. But who those ruddie lippes can misse? [ 15] Which blessed still themselues doo kisse. Rubies, Cherries, and Roses new, In worth, in taste, in perfit hewe: Which neuer part but that they showe Of pretious pearle the double rowe, [ 20] The second sweetly-fenced warde, Her heau'nly-dewed tongue to garde. Whence neuer word in vaine did flowe. Faire vnder these doth stately growe, The handle of this pretious worke, [ 25] The neck, in which strange graces lurke. Such be I thinke the sumptuous towers Which skill dooth make in Princes bowers. So good a say inuites the eye, A little downward to espie, [ 30] The liuelie clusters of her brests, Of Venus babe the wanton nests: Like pomels round of Marble cleere: Where azurde veines well mixt appeere. With dearest tops of porphyrie. [ 35] Betwixt these two a way doth lie, Away more worthie beauties fame, Then that which beares the Milkie name. This leades into the ioyous field, Which onely still doth Lillies yeeld: [ 40] But Lillies such who••e natiue smell The Indian odours doth excell. Waste it is calde, for it doth waste Mens liues, vntill it be imbraste. There may one see, and yet not see [ 45] Her ribbes in white all armed be. More white then Neptunes fomie face,

When strugling rocks he would imbrace. In those delights the wandring thought Might of each side astray be brought, But that her nauel doth vnite, [ 5] In curious circle, busie sight: A daintie seale of virgin-waxe, Where nothing but impression lackes. Her bellie then glad sight doth fill, Iustly entitled Cupids hill. [ 10] A hill most fitte for such a master, A spotlesse mine of Alablaster. Like Alablaster faire and sleeke, But soft and supple satten like. In that sweete seate the Boy doth sport: [ 15] Loath, I must leaue his chiefe resort. "For such a vse the world hath gotten, "The best things still must be forgotten. Yet neuer shall my song omitte Hir thighes, for Ouids song more fitte; [ 20] Which flanked with two sugred flankes, Lift vp their stately swelling bankes; That Albion cliues in whitenes passe: With hanches smooth as looking glasse. But bow all knees, now of her knees [ 25] My tongue doth tell what fancie sees. The knottes of ioy, the gemmes of loue, Whose motion makes all graces moue. Whose bought incau'd doth yeeld such sight, [ 30] Like cunning Painter shadowing white. The gartring place with child-like signe, Shewes easie print in mettall fine. But then againe the flesh doth rise In her braue calues, like christall skies. [ 35] Whose Atlas is a smallest small, More white then whitest bone of all. Thereout steales out that round cleane foote This noble Cedars pretious roote: In shewe and sent pale violets, Whose steppe on earth all beautie sets. [ 40] But back vnto her back, my Muse, Where Ledas swanne his feathers mewes, Along whose ridge such bones are met, Like comfits round in marchpane set. Her shoulders be like two white Doues, [ 45] Pearching within square royall rooues, Which leaded are with siluer skinne, Passing the hate-spott Ermelin.

And thence those armes deriued are; The Phoenix wings are not so rare For faultlesse length, and stainelesse hewe, Ah woe is me, my woes renewe; Now course doth leade me to her hand, [ 5] Of my first loue the fatall band. Where whitenes dooth for euer sitte: Nature her selfe enameld it. For there with strange compact dooth lie Warme snow, moyst pearle, softe iuorie. [ 10] There fall those Saphir-coloured brookes, Which conduit-like with curious crookes, Sweete Ilands make in that sweete land. As for the fingers of the hand, The bloudy shaftes of Cupids warre, [ 15] With amatists they headed are. Thus hath each part his beauties part, But how the Graces doo impart To all her limmes a speciall grace, Becomming euery time and place. [ 20] Which doth euen beautie beautifie, And most bewitch the wretched eye. How all this is but a faire Inne Of fairer guests, which dwell within. Of whose high praise, and praisefull blisse, [ 25] Goodnes the penne, heauen paper is. The inke immortall fame dooth lende: As I began, so must I ende. No tongue can her perfections tell, In whose each part all tongues may dwell. [ 30]

But as Zelmane was comming to the latter end of her song, she might see the same water-spaniell which before had hunted, come and fetch away one of Philocleas gloues; whose fine proportion, shewed well what a daintie guest was wont there to be lodged. It was a delight to Zelmane, to see that the dogge was therewith de∣lighted, [ 35] and so let him goe a little way withall, who quickly caried it out of sight a∣mong certaine trees and bushes, which were very close together. But by and by he came againe, and amongst the raiments (Miso and Mopsa being preparing sheets a∣gainst their comming out) the dog lighted vpon a little booke of four or fiue leaues of paper, and was bearing that away too. But then Zelmane (not knowing what im∣portance [ 40] it might be of) ran after the dog, who going streight to those bushes, she might see the dog deliuer it to a Gentleman who secretly lay there. But she hastily cōming in, the Gentleman rose vp, and with a courteous (though sad) countenāce presented himselfe vnto her. Zelmanes eies streight willed her minde to marke him: for she thought, in her life she had neuer seene a man of a more goodly presence, in [ 45] whom strong making tooke not away delicacie, nor beautie fiercenesse: being in∣deed such a right manlike man, as Nature often erring, yet shewes she would faine

make. But when she had a while (not without admiration) vewed him, she desired him to deliuer backe the gloue and paper, because they were the Ladie Philocleas; telling him withall, that she would not willingly let them know of his close lying in in that prohibited place, while they were bathing themselues; because she knew [ 5] they would be mortally offended withall. Faire Ladie (answered he) the worst of the complaint is already passed, since I feele of my fault in my selfe the punishment. But for these things I assure you, it was my dogs wanton boldnes, not my presump∣tion. With that he gaue her backe the paper: But for the gloue (said he) since it is my Ladie Philocleas, giue me leaue to keepe it, since my hart cannot persuade it selfe [ 10] to part from it. And I pray you tell the Lady (Lady indeed of all my desires) that owes it, that I will direct my life to honour this gloue with seruing her. O villain (cried out Zelmane, madded with finding an vnlooked-for Riuall, and that he would make her a messenger) dispatch (said she) and deliuer it, or by the life of her that owes it, I wil make thy soule (though too base a price) pay for it. And with that drew [ 15] out her sword, which (Amazon-like) she euer ware about her. The Gentleman reti∣red himself into an open place frō among the bushes; and then drawing out his too, he offred to deliuer it vnto her, saying withall, God forbid I should vse my sword a∣gainst you, since (if I be not deceiued) you are the same famous Amazon, that both defended my Ladies iust title of beautie against the valiant Phalantus, and saued her [ 20] life in killing the Lion: therefore I am rather to kisse your hands, with acknowled∣ging my selfe bound to obey you. But this courtesie was worse then a bastonado to Zelmane: so that againe with ragefull eyes she bad him defend himselfe, for no lesse then his life should answere it. A hard case (said he) to teach my sword that lesson, which hath euer vsed to turne it selfe to a shield in a Ladies presence. But Zelmane [ 25] harkening to no more words, began with such wittie furie to pursue him with blowes and thrusts, that Nature and Vertue commanded the Gentleman to looke to his safetie. Yet still courtesie, that seemed incorporate in his hart, would not be perswaded by daunger to offer any offence, but only to stand vpon the best defen∣siue gard he could; somtimes going backe, being content in that respect to take on [ 30] the figure of cowardise; sometime with strong and well-met wards; sometime cun∣ning auoidings of his body; and somtimes faining some blows, which himself puld back before they needed to be withstood. And so with play did he a good while fight against the fight of Zelmane, who (more spited with that curtesie, that one that did nothing should be able to resist her) burned away with choller any motions, [ 35] which might grow out of her owne sweet dsposition, determining to kill him if he fought no better; and so redoubling her blowes, draue the stranger to no other shift, then to warde, and go backe; at that time seeming the image of innocencie against violence. But at length he found, that both in publike and priuate respects, who stands onely vpon defence, stands vpon no defence: For Zelmane seeming to [ 40] strike at his head, and he going to warde it, withall stept backe as he was accusto∣med, she stopt her blow in the aire, and suddenly turning the point, ranne full at his breast; so as he was driuen with the pommell of his sworde (hauing no other weapon of defence) to beate it downe: but the thrust was so strong, that he could not so wholy beate it awaie, but that it met with his thigh, thorow which it ranne. [ 45] But Zelmane retiring her sworde, and seeing his bloud, victorious anger was con∣quered by the before-conquered pittie; and hartily sorie, and euen ashamed with her selfe she was, considering how little he had done, who well she found

could haue done more. In so much that she said, truly I am sorie for your hurt, but your selfe gaue the cause, both in refusing to deliuer the gloue, and yet not figh∣ting as I knowe you could haue done. But (saide shee) because I perceaue you disdayne to fight with a woman, it may be before a year come about, you shall meete with a neere kinsman of mine, Pyrocles Prince of Macedon, and I giue you [ 5] my worde, he for me shall maintaine this quarell against you. I would (answered Amphialus) I had many more such hurtes to meete and know that worthy Prince, whose vertue I loue and admire, though my good destiny hath not bene to see his person.

But as they were so speaking, the yong Ladies came, to whom Mopsa curious in [ 10] any thing, but her own good behauiour) hauing followed and seene Zelmane figh∣ting, had cried, what she had seene, while they were drying themselues, and the wa∣ter (with some drops) seemed to weepe, that it should part from such bodies. But they carefull of Zelmane (assuring themselues that any Arcadian would beare reue∣rence to them) Pamela with a noble mind, and Philoclea with a louing (hastily hi∣ding [ 15] the beauties, whereof Nature was prowde, and they ashamed) they made quicke worke to come to saue Zelmane. But already they found them in talke, and Zelmane carefull of his wound. But whē they saw him they knew it was their cousin germain, the famous Amphialus; whom yet with a sweete-graced bitternes they blamed for breaking their fathers commaundement, especially while themselues [ 20] were in such sort retired. But he craued pardon, protesting vnto them that he had onely bene to seeke solitary places, by an extreme melancholy that had a good while possest him, and guided to that place by his spaniell, where while the dog hunted in the riuer, he had withdrawne himselfe to pacifie with sleepe his ouer∣watched eyes: till a dreame waked him, and made him see that whereof he had [ 25] dreamed, and withall not obscurely signified that he felt the smart of his owne do∣ings. But Philoclea (that was euen iealous of her selfe for Zelmane) would needs haue her gloue, and not without so mighty a loure as that face could yeeld. As for Zelmane when she knew, it was Amphialus, Lord Amphialus (said she) I haue long desired to know you, heretofore I must confesse with more good will, but still with [ 30] honoring your vertue, though I loue not your person: and at this time I pray you let vs take care of your wound, vpon condition you shall hereafter promise, that a more knightly combat shalbe performed betweene vs. Amphialus answered in ho∣norable sort, but with such excusing himselfe, that more and more accused his loue to Philoclea, and prouoked more hate in Zelmane. But Mopsa had already called cer∣taine [ 35] shepheards not far off (who knew and wel obserued their limits) to come and helpe to carrie away Amphialus, whose wound suffered him not without daunger to straine it: and so he leauing himselfe with them, departed from them, faster blee∣ding in his hart, then at his wound: which bound vp by the sheetes, wherewith Philoclea had bene wrapped, made him thanke the wound, and blesse the sword for [ 40] that fauour.

He being gone, the Ladies (with mery anger talking, in what naked simplicitie their cousin had seene them) returned to the lodge-warde: yet thinking it too early (as long as they had any day) to breake off so pleasing a company, with going to performe a cumbersome obedience, Zelmane inuited them to the little arbour, only [ 45] reserued for her, which they willingly did: and there sitting, Pamela hauing a while made the lute in his language, shew how glad it was to be touched by her fingers,

Zelmane deliuered vp the paper, which Amphialus had at first yeelded vnto her: and seeing written vpon the backside of it, the complaint of Plangus, remembring what Dorus had told her, and desiring to know how much Philoclea knew of her estate, she tooke occasion in the presenting of it, to aske whether it were any secret, or no. No [ 5] truely (answered Philoclea) it is but euen an exercise of my fathers writing, vpon this occasion: He was one day somwhile before your comming hether) walking a∣broade, hauing vs two with him, almost a mile hence; and crossing a hie way, which comes from the cittie of Megalopolis, he saw this Gentleman, whose name is there written, one of the proprest and best-graced men that euer I sawe, being of middle [ 10] age, and of a meane stature. Hee lay as then vnder a tree, while his seruaunts were getting fresh post-horses for him. It might seeme he was tired with the extreme tra∣uaile he had taken, and yet not so tyred, that hee forced to take any rest; so hasty hee was vpon his iourney: and withall so sorrowfull, that the very face thereof was pain∣ted in his face; which with pitifull motions, euen groanes, teares, and possionate [ 15] talking to him self, moued my Father to fal in talke with him: who at first not know∣ing him, answered him in such a desperate phrase of griefe, that my Father after∣ward tooke a delight to set it downe in such forme as you see: which if you read, what you doubt of, my sister and I are hable to declare vnto you. Zelmane willingly opened the leaues, and read it, being written Dialogue-wise in this manner.

[ 20]

Plangus. Basilius.

Plangus.

ALas how long this pilgrimage doth last? What greater ills haue now the heauens in store, To couple comming harmes with sorrowes past? [ 25] Long since my voice is hoarce, and throte is sore, With cries to skies, and curses to the ground, But more I plaine, I feele my woes the more. Ah where was first that cruell cunning found, To frame of Earth a vessell of the minde, [ 30] Where it should be to selfe-destruction bound? What needed so high sprites such mansions blind? Or wrapt in flesh what do they here obtaine, But glorious name of wretched humaine-kind? Balles to the starres, and thralles to Fortunes raigne; [ 35] Turnd from themselues, infected with their cage, Where death is feard, and life is held with paine. Like players pla'st to fill a filthy stage, Where chaunge of thoughts one foole to other shewes, And all but iests, saue onely sorrowes rage, [ 40] The child feeles that; the man that feeling knowes, With cries first borne, the presage of his life, Where wit but serues, to haue true tast of woes. A Shop of shame, a Booke where blots be rife This bodie is: this bodie so composed, [ 45] As in it selfe to nourish mortall strife, So diuers be the Elements disposed In this weake worke, that it can neuer be

Made vniforme to any state reposed. Griefe onely makes his wretched state to see (Euen like a toppe which nought but whipping moues) This man, this talking beast, this walking tree. Griefe is the stone which finest iudgement proues: [ 5] For who grieues not hath but a blockish braine, Since cause of griefe no cause from life remoues.

Basilius.

How long wilt thou with monefull musicke staine The cheerefull notes these pleasant places yeeld, [ 10] Where all good haps a perfect state maintaine?

Plangus.

Curst be good haps, and curst be they that build Their hopes on haps, and do not make despaire For all these certaine blowes the surest shield. [ 15] Shall I that saw Eronaes shining haire Torne with her hands, and those same hands of snow With losse of purest blood themselues to teare? Shall I that saw those brests, where beauties flow, Swelling with sighes, made pale with mindes disease, [ 20] And saw those eyes (those Sonnes) such shoures to shew, Shall I, whose eares her mournefull words did seaze, Her words in syrup laid of sweetest breath, Relent those thoughts, which then did so displease? No, no: Despaire my dayly lesson saith, [ 25] And saith, although I seeke my life to flie, Plangus must liue to see Eronaes death, Plangus must liue some helpe for her to trie (Though in despaire) for Loue so forceth me; Plangus doth liue, and shall Erona dye? [ 30] Erona dye? O heauen (if heauen there be) Hath all thy whirling course so small effect? Serue all thy starrie eyes this shame to see? Let doltes in haste some altars faire erect To those high powers, which idly sit aboue, [ 35] And vertue do in greatest need neglect.

Basilius.

O man, take heed, how thou the Gods do moue To causefull wrath, which thou canst not resist. Blasphemous words the speaker vaine do proue. [ 40] Alas while we are wrapt in foggie mist Of our selfe-loue (so passions do deceaue) We thinke they hurt, when most they do assist. To harme vs wormes should that high Iustice leaue His nature? nay, himselfe? for so it is. [ 45] What glorie from our losse can he receaue? But still our dazeled eyes their way do misse,

While that we do at his sweete scourge repine, The kindly way to beate vs on to blisse. If she must dye, then hath she past the line Of lothsome dayes, whose losse how canst thou mone, [ 5] That doost so well their miseries define? But such we are with inward tempest blowne Of windes quite contrarie in waues of will: We mone that lost, which had we did bemone.

[ 10] Plangus.

And shall she dye? shall cruell fier spill Those beames that set so many harts on fire? Hath she not force euen death with loue to kill? Nay euen cold Death enflamde with hot desire Her to enioy, where ioy it selfe is thrall, Will spoile the earth of his most rich attire. [ 15] Thus Death becomes a riuall to vs all, And hopes with foule embracements her to get, In whose decay Vertues faire shrine must fall. O Vertue weake, shall death his triumph set [ 20] Vpon thy spoiles, which neuer should lye waste? Let Death first dye; be thou his worthy let. By what eclipse shall that Sonne be defaste? What myne hath erst throwne downe so faire a tower? What sacriledge hath such a saint disgra'st? [ 25] The world the garden is, she is the flower That sweetens all the place; she is the guest Of rarest price, both heau'n and earth her bower. And shall (ô me) all this in ashes rest? Alas, if you a Phoenix new will haue [ 30] Burnt by the Sunne, she first must build her nest. But well you know, the gentle Sunne would saue Such beames so like his owne, which might haue might In him, the thoughts of Phaëtons damme to graue. Therefore, alas, you vse vile Vulcans spight, [ 35] Which nothing spares, to melt that Virgin-waxe Which while it is, it is all Asias light. O Mars, for what doth serue thy armed axe? To let that wit-old beast consume in flames Thy Venus child, whose beautie Venus lackes? [ 40] O Venus (if her praise no enuy frames, In thy high minde) get her thy husbands grace. "Sweete speaking oft a currish hart reclaimes. O eyes of mine, where once she saw her face, Her face which was more liuely in my hart; [ 45] O braine, where thought of her hath onely place; O hand, which toucht her hand when we did part; O lippes, that kist that hand with my teares sprent;

O toonge, then dumbe, not daring tell my smart; O soule whose loue in her is onely spent, What ere you see, think, touch, kisse, speake, or loue, Let all for her, and vnto her be bent.

[ 5]

Basilius.

Thy wailing words do much my spirits moue, They vttred are in such a feeling fashion, That sorrowes worke against my will I proue. Me-thinkes I am partaker of thy passion, And in thy case do glasse mine owne debilitie: [ 10] Selfe-guiltie folke most prone to feele compassion. Yet Reason saith, Reason should haue abilitie, To hold these wordly things in such proportion, As let them come or go with euen facilitie. But our Desires tyrannicall extortion [ 15] Doth force vs there to set our chiefe delightfulnes, Where but a baiting place is all our portion. But still, although we faile of perfect rightfulnes, Seeke we to tame these childish superfluities: Let vs not winke though void of purest sightfulnes. [ 20] For what can breed more peeuish incongruities, Then man to yeeld to female lamentations? Let vs some grammar learne of more congruities.

Plangus.

If through mine eares pearce any consolation [ 25] By wise discourse, sweete tunes, or Poets fiction; If ought I cease these hideous exclamations, While that my soule, she, she liues in affliction; Then let my life long time on earth maintained be, To wretched me, the last worst malediction. [ 30] Can I, that know her sacred parts, restrained be From any ioy? know fortunes vile displacing her, In morall rules let raging woes contained be? Can I forget, when they in prison placing her, With swelling hart in spite and due disdainfulnes [ 35] She lay for dead, till I helpt with vnlasing her? Can I forget, from how much mourning plainfulnes With Diamond in window-glasse she graued, Erona dye, and end this ougly painefulnes? Can I forget in how straunge phrase she craued [ 40] That quickly they would her burne, drowne, or smother, As if by death she onely might be saued? Then let me eke forget one hand from other: Let me forget that Plangus I am called: Let me forget I am sonne to my mother, [ 45] But if my memory must thus be thralled To that strange stroke which conquer'd all my senses,

Can thoughts still thinking so rest vnappalled?

Basilius.

Who still doth seeke against him selfe offences, What pardon can auaile? or who imployes him [ 5] To hurt himselfe, what shields can be desenses? Woe to poore man: ech outward thing annoyes him In diuers kinds; yet as he were not filled, He heapes in outward griefe, that most destroyes him. Thus is our thought with paine for thistles tilled: [ 10] Thus be our noblest parts dryed vp with sorrow: Thus is our mind with too much minding spilled. One day layes vp stuffe of griefe for the morrow: And whose good haps do leaue him vnprouided, Condoling cause of friendship he will borrow. [ 15] Betwixt the good and shade of good diuided, We pittie deeme that which but weakenes is: So are we from our high creation slided. But Plangus lest I may your sicknesse misse Or rubbing hurt the sore, I here doo end. [ 20] The asse did hurt when he did thinke to kisse.

When Zelmane had read it ouer, marueyling verie much of the speeche of Ero∣nas death, and therefore desirous to know further of it, but more desirous to heare Philoclea speake, Most excellent Ladie (saide she) one may be little the wiser for rea∣ding [ 25] this Dialogue, since it nether sets foorth what this Plangus is, nor what Erona is, nor what the cause should be which threatens her with death, and him with sorow: therefore I woulde humbly craue to vnderstand the particular discourse thereof: be∣cause (I must confesse) some thing in my trauaile I haue heard of this strange matter, which I would be glad to finde by so sweet an authoritie confirmed. The trueth is [ 30] (answered Philoclea) that after hee knew my father to bee Prince of this countrie, while hee hoped to preuaile something with him in a great request hee made vnto him, hee was content to open fully the estate both of himselfe, and of that Ladie; which with my sisters help (said she) who remembers it better then I, I will declare vnto you: and first of Erona, (being the chiefe Subiect of this discourse) this storie [ 35] (with more teares and exclamations then I liste to spende about it) hee recounted. Of late there raigned a King in Lydia, who had for the blessing of his mariage, this onely daughter of his, Erona; a Princesse worthie for her beautie, as much praise, as beautie may be prayse-worthy. This princesse Erona, being 19. yeeres of age, seeing the countrie of Lydia so much deuoted to Cupid, as that in euery place his naked pict∣ures [ 40] and images were superstitiously adored (ether moued thereunto by the estee∣ming that could be no Godhead, which coulde breed wickednes, or the shamefast consideration of such nakednes) procured so much of her father, as vtterly to pull downe, and deface al those statues & pictures. Which how terribly he punished (for to that the Lydians impute it) quickly after appeared.

[ 45] For she had not liued a yeare longer, whē she was striken with most obstinate Loue, to a young man but of meane parentage, in her fathers court, named Antiphilus: so meane, as that hee was but the sonne of her Nurse, and by that meanes (without

other desert) became knowen of her. Now so euill could she conceale her fire, and so wilfully perseuered she in it, that her father offering her the mariage of the great Tiridates, king of Armenia (who desired her more then the ioyes of heauen) shee for Antiphilus sake refused it. Many wayes her father sought to with drawe her from it; sometimes perswasions, sometimes threatnings; once hiding Antiphilus, and giuing [ 5] her to vnderstand that he was fled the countrie: Lastly, making a solemne executi∣on to be done of another, vnder the name of Antiphilus, whom he kept in prison. But nether she liked perswasions, nor feared threateninges, nor changed for absence: and when she thought him dead, she sought all meanes (as well by poyson as knife) to send her soule, at least, to be maried in the eternall church with him. This so [ 10] brake the tender fathers hart, that (leauing things as he found them) hee shortly af∣ter died. Then foorth with Erona (being seazed of the crowne, and arming her will with authoritie) sought to aduance her affection to the holy title of matrimonie.

But before she could accomplish all the solemnities, she was ouertaken with a war the King Tiridates made vpon her, only for her person; towards whom (for her [ 15] ruine) Loue had kindled his cruel hart; indeed cruell and tyrannous: for (being far too strong in the field) he spared not man, woman, and child, but (as though there could be found no foile to set foorth the extremitie of his loue, but extremity of ha∣tred) wrote (as it were) the sonets of his Loue, in the bloud, and tuned them in the cries of her subiects; although his faire sister Artaxia (who would accompany [ 20] him in the army) sought all meanes to appease his fury: till lastly, he besieged Erona in her best citie, vowing to winne her, or lose his life. And now had he brought her to the point ether of a wofull consent, or a ruinous deniall; when there came thether (following the course which Vertue and Fortune led them) two excellent young Princes, Pyrocles & Musidorus, the one Prince of Macedon, the other of Thessa∣lia: [ 25] two princes, as Plangus said, (and he witnessed his saying with sighes and teares) the most accomplished both in body & minde, that the Sun euer lookt vpon. While Philoclea spake those words, O sweete wordes (thought Zelmane to herselfe) which are not onely a praise to mee, but a praise to praise it selfe, which out of that mouth issueth. [ 30]

These 2. princes (said Philoclea) aswell to help the weaker (especially being a La∣die) as ta saue a Greeke people from being ruined by such, whom we call and count Barbarous, gathering to gether such of the honestest Lycians, as would venture their liues to succour their Princesse: giuing order by a secret message they sent into the Citie, that they should issue with al force at an appointed time; they set vpon Tirida∣tes [ 35] campe, with so well-guided a fiercenes, that being of both sides assaulted, he was like to be ouerthrowen: but that this Plangus (being Generall of Tiridates hors-men) especially ayded by the two mightie men, Euardes and Barzanes, rescued the foot∣mē, euen almost defeated: but yet could not barre the Princes (with their succoures both of men and victuall) to enter the Citie. [ 40]

Which when Tiridates found would make the war long, (which length seemed to him worse then a languishing consumption) he made a challenge of three Princes in his retinue, against those two Princes and Antiphilus: and that thereupon the quarrell should be decided; with compact, that neither side should helpe his fellow: but of whose side the more ouercame, with him the victorie should remaine. Anti∣philus [ 45] (though Erona chose rather to bide the brunt of warre, then venture him, yet) could not for shame refuse the offer, especially since the two strangers that had

no interest in it, did willingly accept it: besides that, he sawe it like enough, that the people (werie of the miseries of war) would rather giue him vp, if they saw him shrinke, then for his sake venture their ruine: considering that the challengers were farre of greater worthinesse then himselfe. So it was agreed vpon; and against Pyro∣cles [ 5] was Euardes, King of Bithinia; Barzanes of Hircania, against Musidorus, two men, that thought the world scarse able to resist them: and against Antiphilus he placed this same Plangus, being his owne cousin germain, and sonne to the King of Iberia. Now so it fell out that Musidorus slewe Barzanes, and Pyrocles Euardes; which victory those Princes esteemed aboue all that euer they had: but of the other side Plangus [ 10] tooke Antiphilus prisoner: vnder which colour (as if the matter had bene equall, though indeed it was not, the greater part being ouercome of his side) Tiridates continued his war: and to bring Erona to a compelled yeelding, sent her word, that he would the third morrow after, before the walles of the towne strike off Antiphilus head; without his suite in that space were graunted: adding withall (because he [ 15] had heard of her desperate affection) that if in the meane time she did her selfe any hurt, what tortures could be deuised should be layed vpon Antiphilus.

Then lo if Cupid be a God, or that the tyranny of our owne thoughts seeme as a God vnto vs. But whatsoeuer it was, then it did set foorth the miserablenes of his effectes: she being drawne to two cōtraries by one cause. For the loue of him com∣maunded [ 20] her to yeeld to no other: the loue of him commaunded her to preserue his life: which knot might well be cut, but vntied it could not be. So that Loue in her passions (like a right makebate) whispered to both sides arguments of quarrell. What (said he of the one side) doost thou loue Antiphilus, ô Erona? and shall Tiri∣dates enioy thy bodie? with what eyes wilt thou looke vpon Antiphilus, when he [ 25] shall know that an other possesseth thee? But if thou wilt do it, canst thou do it? canst thou force thy hart? Thinke with thy selfe, if this man haue thee, thou shalt neuer haue more part of Antiphilus then if he were dead. But thus much more, that the affection shalbe still gnawing, and the remorse still present. Death perhaps will coole the rage of thy affection: where thus, thou shalt euer loue, and euer lacke. [ 30] Thinke this beside, if thou marrie Tiridates, Antiphilus is so excellent a man, that long he cannot be from being in some high place maried: canst thou suffer that too? If an other kill him, he doth him the wrong: if thou abuse thy body, thou doost him the wrong. His death is a worke of nature, and either now, or at another time he shal die. But it shalbe thy worke, thy shamefull worke, which is in thy power to shun, to [ 35] make him liue to see thy faith falsified, and his bed defiled. But when Loue had well kindled that partie of her thoughts, then went he to the other side. What (said he) O Erona, and is thy Loue of Antiphilus come to that point, as thou doost now make it a question, whether he shall die, or no? O excellent affection, which for too much loue, will see his head off. Marke well the reasons of the other side, and thou [ 40] shalt see, it is but loue of thy selfe which so disputeth. Thou canst not abide Tirida∣tes: this is but loue of thy selfe: thou shalt be ashamed to looke vpon him after∣ward; this is but feare of shame, and loue of thy selfe: thou shalt want him as much then; this is but loue of thy selfe? he shalbe married; if he be well, why should that grieue thee, but for loue of thy selfe? No, no, pronounce these words if thou canst, [ 45] let Antiphilus die. Then the images of each side stood before her vnderstanding; one time she thought she saw Antiphilus dying: an other time she thought Anti∣philus sawe her by Tiridates enioyed: twenty times calling for a seruaunt to carry

message of yeelding, but before he came the minde was altered. She blusht when she considered the effect of granting; she was pale, when she remembred the fruits of denying. For weeping, sighing, wringing her hands, and tearing her haire, were indifferent of both sides. Easily she would haue agreed to haue broken all dis∣putations with her owne death, but that the feare of Antiphilus furder torments [ 5] staied her. At length, euen the euening before the day apointed of his death, the determination of yeelding preuailed, especially, growing vpon a message of Anti∣philus; who with all the coniuring termes he could deuise, besought her to saue his life, vpon any conditions. But she had no sooner sent her messenger to Tiridates, but her mind changed, and she went to the two yong Princes, Pyrocles and Musidorus, & [ 10] falling downe at their feet, desired them to try some way for her deliuerance; shew∣ing her selfe resolued, not to ouer-liue Antiphilus, nor yet to yeeld to Tiridates.

They that knew not what she had done in priuate, prepared that night accor∣dingly: & as sometimes it fals out, that what is inconstancy, seemes cunning; so did this change indeed stand in as good steed as a witty dissimulation. For it made the [ 15] King as reckles, as them diligent: so that in the dead time of the night, the Princes issued out of the towne; with whom she would needs go, either to die her selfe, or reskew Antiphilus, hauing no armour, nor weapon, but affection. And I cannot tell you how, by what deuise (though Plangus at large described it) the conclusion was, the wonderfull valour of the two Princes so preuailed, that Antiphilus was succou∣red, [ 20] and the King slaine. Plangus was then the chiefe man left in the campe; and therefore seeing no other remedie, conueied in safety into her country Artaxia, now Queene of Armenia; who with true lamentations, made known to the world, that her new greatnes did no way comfort her in respect of her brothers losse, whom she studied all meanes possible to reuenge vpon euery one of the occasio∣ners, [ 25] hauing (as she thought) ouerthrowne her brother by a most abhominable treason. In somuch, that being at home, she proclaimed great rewards to any pri∣uate man, and her selfe in mariage to any Prince, that would destroy Pyrocles and Musidorus. But thus was Antiphilus redeemed, and (though against the consent of all her nobility) married to Erona; in which case the two Greeke Princes (be∣ing [ 30] called away by an other aduenture) left them.

But now me thinkes as I haue read some Poets, who when they intend to tell some horrible matter, they bid men shun the hearing of it: so if I do not desire you to stop your eares from me, yet may I wel desire a breathing time, before I am to tell the execrable treason of Antiphilus, that brought her to this misery; and withall [ 35] wish you all, that from all mankind indeed you stop your eares. O most happy were we, if we did set our loues one vpon another. (And as she spake that word, her cheekes in red letters writ more, then her tongue did speake.) And therefore since I haue named Plangus, I pray you sister (said she) helpe me with the rest, for I haue held the stage long inough; and if it please you to make his fortune knowne, as I [ 40] haue done Eronas, I will after take hart againe to go on with his falshood; and so betweene vs both, my Ladie Zelmane shall vnderstand both the cause and parties of this Lamentation. Nay I beshrow me then (said Miso) I will none of that, I promise you, as long as I haue the gouernmēt, I wil first haue my tale, & then my Lady Pame∣la, my Lady Zelmane, & my daughter Mopsa (for Mopsa was then returned from Am∣phialus) [ 45] may draw cuts, & the shortest cut speake first. For I tell you, and this may be suffred, when you are married you will haue first, and last word of your husbands.

The Ladies laughed to see with what an eger earnestnesse she looked, hauing threat∣ning not onely in her Ferret eies, but while she spake, her nose seeming to threaten her chin, & her shaking lims one to threaten another. But there was no remedy, they must obey: and Miso (sitting on the ground with her knees vp, and her hands vpon [ 5] her knees) tuning her voice with many a quauering cough, thus discoursed vnto them. I tell you true (said she) whatsoeuer you thinke of me, you will one day be as I am; & I, simple though I sit here, thought once my pennie as good siluer, as some of you do: and if my father had not plaid the hasty foole (it is no lie I tell you) I might haue had an other-gaines husband, then Dametas. But let that passe, God a∣mend [ 10] him: and yet I speake it not without good cause. You are full in your tittle tattlings of Cupid: here is Cupid, & there is Cupid. I will tell you now, what a good old womā told me, what an old wise man told her, what a great learned clerke told him, and gaue it him in writing; and here I haue it in my praier booke. I pray you (said Philoclea) let vs see it, & read it. No hast but good (said Miso) you shal first know how [ 15] I came by it. I was a young girle of a seuen and twenty yeare old, & I could not go thorow the streate of our village, but I might heare the young men talke; O the pre∣tie little eies of Miso; O the fine thin lips of Miso; O the goodly fat hands of Miso: be∣sides, how well a certaine wrying I had of my necke, became me. Then the one would wincke with one eye, and the other cast daiseys at me: I must confesse, seing [ 20] so many amorous, it made me set vp my peacocks tayle with the hiest. Which when this good old woman perceiued (O the good wold woman, well may the bones rest of the good wold woman) she cald me to her into her house. I remember full well it stood in the lane as you go to the Barbers shop, all the towne knew her, there was a great losse of her: she called me to her, and taking first a soppe of wine to com∣fort [ 25] her hart (it was of the same wine that comes out of Candia, which we pay so deere for now adaies, and in that good world was very good cheape) she cald me to her; Minion said she, (indeed I was a pretie one in those daies though I say it) I see a number of lads that loue you; Well (said she) I say no more: doo you know what [ 30] Loue is? With that she brought me into a corner, where there was painted a foule fiend I trow: for he had a paire of hornes like a Bull, his feete clouen, as many eyes vpon his bodie, as my gray-mare hath dappels, & for all the world so placed. This monster sat like a hangman vpon a paire of gallowes, in his right hand he was pain∣ted holding a crowne of Laurel, in his left hand a purse of mony, & out of his mouth [ 35] hong a lace of two faire pictures, of a man and a woman, and such a countenance he shewed, as if he would perswade folks by those aluremēts to come thither & be han∣ged. I, like a tender harted wench, skriked out for feare of the diuell. Well (said she) this same is euen Loue: therefore do what thou list with all those fellows, one after another; and it recks not much what they do to thee, so it be in secret; but vpō my charge, neuer loue none of them. Why mother (said I) could such a thing come [ 40] frō the belly of the faire Venus? for a few dayes before, our (priest betweene him & me) had told me the whole storie of Venus. Tush (said she) they are all deceaued: and therwith gaue me this Booke, which she said a great maker of ballets had giuen to an old painter, who for a litle pleasure, had bestowed both booke and picture of her. Reade there (said she) & thou shalt see that his mother was a cowe, and the false [ 45] Argus his father. And so she gaue me this Booke, and there now you may reade it. With that the remembrance of the good old woman, made her make such a face to weepe, as if it were not sorrow, it was the carkasse of sorrow that appeared there.

But while her teares came out, like raine falling vpon durtie furrowes, the latter end of her praier booke was read among these Ladies, which contained this.

POore Painters oft with silly Poets ioyne, To fill the world with strange but vaine conceits: [ 5] One brings the stuffe, the other stamps the coine, Which breedes nought else but gloses of deceits. Thus Painters Cupid paint, thus Poets do A naked God, blinde young, with arrowes two. Is he a God, that euer flies the light? [ 10] Or naked he, disguis'd in all vntruth? If he be blind, how hitteth he so right? How is he young, that tam'd old Phoebus youth? But arrowes two, and tipt with gold or leade? Some hurt accuse a third with horny head. [ 15] No, nothing so; an old false knaue he is By Argus got on Io, then a cow: What time for her Iuno her Ioue did misse, And charge of her to Argus did allow. Mercury kill'd his false sire for this act, [ 20] His damme a beast was pardon'd beastly fact. With fathers death, and mothers guiltie shame, With Ioues disdaine at such a riuals seed, The wretch compell'd a runnagate became, And learn'd what ill a miser state doth breed, [ 25] To lye, to steale, to pry, and to accuse, Naught in himselfe ech other to abuse. Yet beares he still his parents stately gifts, A horned head, clouen feete, and thousand eyes, Some gazing still, some winking wilye shiftes, [ 30] With long large eares where neuer rumour dyes. His horned head doth seeme the heauen to spight: His clouen foote doth neuer treade aright. Thus halfe a man, with man he dayly haunts, Cloth'd in the shape which soonest may deceaue: [ 35] Thus halfe a beast, ech beastly vice he plants, In those weake harts that his aduice receaue. He proules ech place stil in new colours deckt, Sucking ones ill, another to infect. To narrow brests he comes all wrapt in gaine: [ 40] To swelling harts he shines in honours fire: To open eyes all beauties he doth raine; Creeping to ech with flattering of desire. But for that Loue is worst which rules the eyes, Thereon his name, there his chiefe triumph lyes. [ 45] Millions of yeares this old driuell Cupid liues; While still more wretch, more wicked he doth proue:

Till now at length that Ioue him office giues, (At Iunos suite who much did Argus loue) In this our world a hang-man for to be, Of all those fooles that will haue all they see. [ 5]

The Ladies made sport at the description and storie of Cupid. But Zelmane could scarce suffer those blasphemies (as she tooke them) to be read, but humbly besought Pamela she would perfourme her sisters request of the other part of the storie. Noble Lady (answered she, beautifying her face with a sweete smiling, and the [ 10] sweetnes of her smiling with the beautie of her face) since I am borne a Princes daughter, let me not giue example of disobedience. My gouernesse will haue vs draw cuts, and therefore I pray you let vs do so: and so perhaps it will light vpon you to entertaine this company with some storie of your owne; and it is reason our eares should be willinger to heare, as your tongue is abler to deliuer. I will [ 15] thinke (answered Zelmane) excellent Princesse my tongue of some value, if it can procure your tongue thus much to fauour me. But Pamela pleasantly persisting to haue fortune their iudge, they set hands, and Mopsa (though at the first for squea∣mishnes going vp and downe, with her head like a boate in a storme) put to her golden gols among them, and blind Fortune (that saw not the coulor of them) [ 20] gaue her the preheminence: and so being her time to speake (wiping her mouth, as there was good cause) she thus tumbled into her matter. In time past (sayd she) there was a King, the mightiest man in all his country, that had by his wife, the fai∣rest daughter that euer did eate pappe. Now this King did keepe a great house, that euery body might come and take their meat freely. So one day, as his daughter was [ 25] sitting in her window, playing vpon a harpe, as sweete as any Rose; and combing her head with a combe all of precious stones, there came in a Knight into the court, vpon a goodly horse, one haire of gold, and the other of siluer; and so the Knight ca∣sting vp his eyes to the window, did fall into such loue with her, that he grew not worth the bread he eate; till many a sorry day going ouer his head, with Dayly Dili∣gence [ 30] and Grisly Grones, he wan her affection, so that they agreed to run away to∣gither. And so in May, when all true hartes reioyce, they stale out of the Castel, without staying so much as for their breakfast. Now forsooth, as they went togither, often all to kissing one another, the Knight told her, he was brought vp among the water Nymphes, who had so bewitched him, that if he were euer askt his name, he must [ 35] presently vanish away: and therefore charged her vpon his blessing, that she neuer aske him what he was, nor whether he would. And so a great while she kept his commandement; til once, passing through a cruell wildernes, as darke as pitch; her mouth so watred, that she could not choose but aske him the question. And then, he making the greeuousest complaints that would haue melted a tree to haue heard [ 40] them, vanisht quite away: and she lay downe, casting forth as pitifull cries as any shrich-owle. But hauing laien so, (wet by the raine, & burnt by the Sun) fiue dayes, and fiue nights, she gat vp and went ouer many a high hill, and many a deepe riuer; till she came to an Aunts house of hers; and came, and cried to her for helpe: and she for pittie gaue her a Nut, and bad her neuer open her Nut, till she was come to [ 45] the extremest misery that euer tongue could speake of. And so she went, and she went, and neuer rested the euening, where she went in the morning; till she came to a second Aunt; and she gaue her another Nut.

Now good Mopsa (said the sweete Philoclea) I pray thee at my request keepe this tale, till my marriage day, and I promise thee that the best gowne I weare that day shalbe thine. Mopsa was very glad of the bargaine, especially that it should grow a festiuall Tale: so that Zelmane, who desired to finde the vttermost what these La∣dies vnderstood touching her selfe, and hauing vnderstood the danger of Erona (of [ 5] which before she had neuer heard) purposing with her selfe (as soone as this pur∣suit she now was in, was brought to any effect) to succour her, entreated againe, that she might know as well the story of Plangus, as of Erona. Philoclea referred it to her sisters perfecter remembrance, who with so sweet a voice, and so winning a grace, as in themselues were of most forcible eloquence to procure attention, in [ 10] this maner to their earnest request soone condiscended.

The father of this Prince Plangus as yet liues, and is King of Iberia: a man (if the iudgement of Plangus may be accepted) of no wicked nature, nor willingly doing euill, without himselfe mistake the euill, seeing it disguised vnder some forme of goodnesse. This Prince, being married at the first to a Princesse (who both from [ 15] her auncesters, and in her selfe was worthy of him) by her had this sonne, Plangus. Not long after whose birth, the Queene (as though she had perfourmed the mes∣sage for which she was sent into the world) returned againe vnto her maker. The King (sealing vp all thoughts of loue vnder the image of her memorie) remained a widdower many yeares after; recompencing the griefe of that disioyning from [ 20] her, in conioyning in himselfe both a fatherly and a motherly care toward her onely child, Plangus. Who being growne to mans age, as our owne eies may iudge, could not but fertilly requite his fathers fatherly education.

This Prince (while yet the errors in his nature were excused by the greenenes of his youth, which tooke all the fault vpon it selfe) loued a priuate mans wife of the [ 25] principall Citie of that Kingdome, if that may be called loue, which he rather did take into himselfe willingly, then by which he was taken forcibly. It sufficeth, that the yong mā perswaded himself he loued her: she being a womā beautifull enough, if it be possible, that the onely outside can iustly entitle a beauty. But finding such a chase as onely fledde to be caught, the young Prince brought his affection with her [ 30] to that point, which ought to engraue remorse in her hart, & to paint shame vpō her face. And so possest he his desire without any interruption; he constantly fauouring her, and she thinking, that the enameling of a Princes name, might hide the spots of a broken wedlock. But as I haue seene one that was sick of a sleeping disease, could not be made wake, but with pinching of him: so out of his sinfull sleepe his [ 35] minde (vnworthie so to be lost) was not to be cald to it selfe, but by a sharpe acci∣dent. It fell out, that his many-times leauing of the court (in vndue times) began to be noted; and (as Princes eares be manifolde) from one to another came vnto the King; who (carefull of his onely sonne) sought, and found by his spies (the necessa∣rie euill seruaunts to a King) what it was, whereby he was from his better delights [ 40] so diuerted. Whereupon, the King (to giue his fault the greater blow) vsed such meanes, by disguising himselfe, that he found them (her husband being absent) in her house together: which he did, to make him the more feelingly ashamed of it. And that way he tooke, laying threatnings vpon her, and vpon him reproaches. But the poore young Prince (deceiued with that young opinion, that if it be euer [ 45] lawful to lie, it is for ones Louer,) employed all his wit to bring his father to a better opinion. And because he might bende him from that (as he counted it) crooked

conceit of her he wrested him, as much as he coulde possiblie, to the other side: not sticking with prodigal protestations to set foorth her chastitie; not denying his own attempt, but thereby the more extolling her vertue. His Sophistrie preuayled, his father beleeued; and so beleeued, that ere long (though he were already stept into [ 5] the winter of his age) he founde himselfe warme in those desires, which were in his sonne farre more excusable. To be short, he gaue himselfe ouer vnto it; and (because he would auoide the odious comparison of a yong riuall) sent away his sonne with an armie, to the subduing of a Prouince lately rebelled against him, which he knew could not be a lesse worke, then of three or foure yeares. Wherein he behaued him [ 10] so worthilie, as euen to this country the fame thereof came, long before his owne comming: while yet his father had a speedier succes, but in a far vnnobler conquest. For while Plangus was away, the old man (growing onely in age and affection) fol∣lowed his suite with all meanes of vnhonest seruants, large promises, and each thing els that might help to counteruaile his owne vnlouelines.

[ 15] And she (whose husband about that time died) forgetting the absent Plangus, or at lest not hoping of him to obtaine so aspiring a purpose, lefte no art vnused, which might keepe the line from breaking, whereat the fishe was alredy taken; not draw∣ing him violently, but letting him play himselfe vpon the hooke, which he had so greedily swalowed. For, accompanying her mourning garments with a dolefull [ 20] countenaunce, yet neither forgetting handsomnes in her mourning garments, nor sweetenes in her dolefull countenance; her wordes were euer seasoned with sighes; and any fauour she shewed, bathed in teares, that affection might see cause of pity; and pity might perswade cause of affection. And being growen skilful in his humors she was no lesse skilfull in applying his humors: neuer suffering his feare to fall to a [ 25] despaire, nor his hope to hasten to an assurance: shee was content he should thinke that she loued him; and a certaine stolne looke should sometimes (as though it were against her will) bewray it: But if thereupon hee grewe bolde, hee straight was en∣coūtered with a maske of vertue. And that which seemeth most impossible vnto me, (for as neere as I can I repeate it as Plangus tolde it) she could not only sigh when she [ 30] would, as all can doo; & weep whē she would, as (they ••ay) some can doo; but (be∣ing most impudent in her heart) she could, when she would, teach her chekes blush∣ing, & make shamefastnes the cloake of shamelesnes. In sum, to leaue out many par∣ticularities which he recited, she did not only vse so the spurre, that his Desire ran on, but so the bit, that it ran on euen in such a careere as she would haue it; that within a [ 35] while the king, seing with no other eys but such as she gaue him, & thinking on other thoughts, but such as she taught him; hauing at the first liberal measure of fauors, thē shortned of thē, whē most his Desire was inflam'd; he saw no other way but mariage to satisfie his longing, and her minde (as he thought) louing, but chastly louing. So that by the time Plangus returned from being notably victorious of the Rebels, he [ 40] found his father, not onely maried, but alredy a father of a sonne and a da••ghter by this woman. Which though Plangus (as he had euery way iust cause) was grieued at; yet did his griefe neuer bring foorth ether contemning of her, or repining at his fa∣ther. But she (who besides she was growen a mother, and a stepmother, did read in his eies her owne fault, and made his conscience her guiltines) thought still that his [ 45] presence caried her condemnation: so much the more, as that she (vnchastly attemp∣ting his wonted fancie••) found (for the reuerence of his fathers bed) a bitter refu∣sall•• which breeding rather spite then shame in her, or if it were a shame, a shame not

of the fault, but of the repulse, she did not onely (as hating him) thirst for a reuenge, but (as fearing harm form him) endeuoured to doo harme vnto him. Therefore did she trie the vttermost of her wicked wit, how to ouerthrow him in the foundation of his strength, which was, in the fauour of his father: which because she saw strong both in nature and desert, it required the more cunning how to vndermine it. And [ 5] therefore (shunning the ordinary trade of hireling sycophants) shee made her prai∣ses of him, to be accusations; and her aduancing him, to be his ruine. For first with words (neerer admiration then liking) she would extoll his excellencies, the good∣lines of his shape, the power of his witte, the valiantnes of his courage, the fortu∣natenes of his successes: so as the father might finde in her a singular loue towards [ 10] him: nay, shee shunned not to kindle some fewe sparkes of ielousie in him. Thus hauing gotten an opinion in his father, that shee was farre from meaning mischiefe to the sonne, then fell shee to praise him with no lesse vehemencie of affection, but with much more cunning of malice. For then she sets foorth the liberty of his mind the high flying of his thoughts, the fitnesse in him to beare rule, the singular loue [ 15] the Subiects bare him; that it was doubtfull, whether his wit were greater in win∣ning their fauours, or his courage in imploying their fauours: that he was not borne to liue a subiect-life, each action of his bearing in it Maiestie, such a Kingly enter∣tainement, such a Kingly magnificence, such a Kingly harte for enterprises: especi∣ally remembring those vertues, which in successor are no more honoured by the [ 20] subiects, then suspected of the Princes. Then would shee by putting-off obiections, bring in obiectiōs to her husbands head, already infected with suspitiō. Nay (would she say) I dare take it vpon my death, that he is no such sonne, as many of like might haue bene, who loued greatnes so well, as to build their greatnes vpon their fathers ruine. Indeed Ambition, like Loue, can abide no lingring, and euer vrgeth on his [ 25] owne successes; hating no thing, but what may stop them. But the Gods forbid, we should euer once dreame of any such thing in him, who perhaps might be content, that you and the world should know, what he can do: but the more power he hath to hurte, the more admirable is his praise, that he will not hurt. Then euer remem∣bring to strengthen the suspition of his estate with priuate ielousie of her loue, do∣ing [ 30] him excessiue honour whē he was in presence, & repeating his pretie speaches and graces in his absence; besides, causing him to be imployed in all such dangerous matters, as ether he should perish in them, or if hee preuailed, they should increase his glorie: which she made a weapon to wound him, vntill she found that suspition began already to speake for it selfe, and that her husbands eares were growne hun∣gry [ 35] of rumours, and his eies prying into euery accident.

Then tooke she help to her of a seruant neere about her husband, whō she knew to be of a hasty ambition, and such a one, who wanting true sufficiencie to raise him, would make a ladder of any mischiefe. Him shee vseth to deale more plainely in alleaging causes of iealousie, making him knowe the fittest times when her [ 40] husband already was stirred that way. And so they two, with diuers wayes, nourished one humour, like Musitians, that singing diuers parts, make one musicke. He sometime with fearefull countenaunce would desire the King to looke to him∣selfe; for that all the court and Cittie were full of whisperinges, and expectation of some soddaine change, vpon what ground himselfe knew not. Another time hee [ 45] would counsell the King to make much of his sonne, and holde his fauour, for that it was too late now to keepe him vnder. Now seeming to feare himselfe, because

(he said) Plangus loued none of them that were great about his father. Lastly, break∣ing with him directly (making a sorrowful countenance, and an humble gesture beare false witnesse for his true meaning) that he found, not onely souldiery, but people weary of his gouernment, and all their affections bent vpon Plangus. Both [ 5] he and the Queene concurring in strange dreames, and each thing else, that in a minde (already perplexed) might breed astonishment: so that within a while, all Plangus actions began to be translated into the language of suspition.

Which though Pl••ngus found, yet could he not auoid, euen contraries being dri∣uen to draw one yoke of argument: if he were magnificent, he spent much with an [ 10] aspiring intent: if he spared, hee heaped much with an aspiring intent: if hee spake curteously, he angled the peoples harts: if he were silent he mused vpon some daun∣gerous plot. In summe, if hee could haue turned himselfe to as many formes as Proteus, euery forme should haue bene made hideous.

But so it fell out, that a meere trifle gaue them occasion of further proceeding. [ 15] The King one morning, going to a vineyard that lay a long the hill where vpon his castle stood, he saw a vine-labourer, that finding a bowe broken, tooke a branch of the same bowe for want of another thing, and tied it about the place broken. The King asking the fellow what he did, Marry (said he) I make the sonne binde the fa∣ther. This word (finding the King alredy supersticious through suspition) amazed [ 20] him streight, as a presage of his owne fortune: so that, returning, and breaking with his wife how much he misdoubted his estate, she made such gaine-saying answeres as while they straue, straue to be ouercome. But euen while the doubtes most boi∣led, she thus nourished them.

She vnder-hand dealt with the principall men of that country, that at the great [ 25] Parliament (which was then to bee held) they should in the name of all the estates perswade the King (being now stept deeply into old age) to make Plangus, his asso∣ciate in gouernment with him: assuring them, that not onely she would ioine with them, but that the father himfelfe would take it kindly; charging them not to ac∣quaint [ 30] Plangus withall; for that perhaps it might be harmefull vnto him, if the King should finde, that he were a party. They (who thought they might do it, not one∣ly willingly, because they loued him, and truely, because such indeed was the mind of the people, but safely because she who ruled the King was agreed thereto) ac∣complished her counsell: she indeed keeping promise of vehement perswading the same: which the more she and they did, the more shee knew her husband woulde [ 35] feare, and hate the cause of his feare. Plangus found this, and humbly protested a∣gainst such desire, or will to accept. But the more hee protested, the more his father thought he dissembled, accounting his integrity to be but a cūning face of falshood: and therefore delaying the desire of his subiects, attended some fit occasion to lay hands vpon his sonne: which his wife thus brought to passe.

[ 40] She caused that same minister of hers to go vnto Plangus, and (enabling his words with great shew of faith, and endearing them with desire of secresie) to tell him, that he found his ruine conspired by his stepmother, with certaine of the noble men of that country, the King himselfe giuing his consent, and that few daies shoulde passe before the putting it in practize: with all discouering the very truth indeede, [ 45] with what cunning his stepmother had proceeded. This agreing with Plangus his owne opinion, made him giue him the better credit: yet not so far, as to flie out of his country (according to the naughty fellowes persuasion) but to attend, and to

see further. Whereupon the fellow (by the direction of his mistresse) told him one day, that the same night about one of the clocke, the King had appointed to haue his wife, and those noble men together, to deliberate of their manner of proceeding a∣gainst Plangus: and therefore offered him, that if himselfe would agree, hee woulde bring him into a place where hee should heare all that passed; and so haue the more [ 5] reason both to himselfe, and to the world, to seeke his safetie. The poore Plangus (be∣ing subiect to that onely disaduantage of honest harts, credulitie) was perswaded by him: and arming himselfe (because of his late going) was closely conueied into the place appointed. In the meane time his stepmother, making al her gestures cūningly counterfait a miserable affliction, she lay almost groueling on the flower of her chā∣ber, [ 10] not suffering any body to comfort her; vntill they calling for her husband, and he held of with long enquiry, at length, she tolde him (euen almost crying out euery word) that she was wery of her life, since shee was brought to that plunge, ei∣ther to conceale her husbands murther, or accuse her sonne, who had euer beene more deare, then a sonne vnto her. Then with many interruptions and exclamati∣ons [ 15] she tolde him, that her sonne Plangus (solliciting her in the olde affection be∣tweene them) had besought her to put her helping hand to the death of the King; assuring her, that though all the lawes in the world were against it, he would marrie her when he were King.

She had not fully said thus much, with many pitifull digressiōs, when in comes [ 20] the same fellow, that brought Plāgus: & rūning himself out of breath, fell at the Kings feet, beseeching him to saue himself; for that there was a man with a sword drawen in the next roome. The King affrighted, wēt out, & called his gard, who entring the place, foūd indeed Plangus with his sword in his hand, but not naked, but standing suspiciously inough, to one already suspicious. The King (thinking hee had put vp [ 25] his sworde because of the noise) neuer tooke leasure to heare his answer, but made him prisoner, meaning the next morning to put him to death in the market place.

But the day had no sooner opened the eies & eares of his friends & followers, but that there was a little army of them, who came, & by force deliuered him; although numbers on the other side (abused with the fine framing of their report) took armes [ 30] for the King. But Plangus, though he might haue vsed the force of his friends to re∣uenge his wrong, and get the crowne; yet the naturall loue of his father, and hate to make their suspition seeme iust, caused him rather to choose a voluntarie exile, then to make his fathers death the purchase of his life: and therefore went he to Ti∣ridates, whose mother was his fathers sister, liuing in his Court eleuen or twelue [ 35] yeares, euer hoping by his intercession, and his owne desert, to recouer his fathers grace. At the end of which time, the warre of Erona happened, which my sister with the cause thereof discoursed vnto you.

But his father had so deeply engraued the suspition in his hart, that he thought his flight rather to proceed of a fearefull guiltines, then of an humble faithfulnes; and [ 40] therefore continued his hate, with such vehemencie, that he did euen hate his Nep∣hew Tiridates, and afterwardes his neece Artaxia, because in their Court hee recei∣ued countenance, leauing no meanes vnattempted of destroying his son; among o∣ther, employing that wicked seruant of his, who vndertooke to empoyson him. But his cunning disguised him not so well, but that the watchful seruants of Plangus did [ 45] discouer him. Whereupon the wretch was taken, & (before his well deserued exe∣cution) by torture forced to confesse the particularities of this, which in generall I

haue told you.

Which confession autentically set downe (though Tiridates with solemne Em∣bassage sent it to the King) wrought no effect. For the King hauing put the reines of the gouernment into his wiues hande, neuer did so much as reade it; but sent it [ 5] streight by her to be considered. So as they rather heaped more hatred vpon Plan∣gus, for the death of their seruaunt. And now finding, that his absence, and their re∣ports had much diminished the wauering peoples affection towardes Plangus, with aduauncing fit persons for faction, and graunting great immunities to the com∣mons, they preuailed so farre; as to cause the sonne of the second wife, called Palla∣dius, [ 10] to be proclaymed successour, and Plangus quite excluded: so that Plangus was driuen to continue his seruing Tiridates, as hee did in the warre against Erona, and brought home Artaxia, as my sister tolde you; when Erona by the treason of An∣tiphilus, But at that word she stopped. For Basilius (not able longer to abide their ab∣sence) came sodainly among them, and with smiling countenance (telling Zelma∣ne [ 15] hee was affraid shee had stollen away his daughters) inuited them to follow the Sunnes counsell in going then to their lodging; for indeed the Sun was readie to set. They yeelded, Zelmane meaning some other time to vnderstand the storie of Antiphilus treason, and Eronas daunger, whose cause she greatly tendred. But Miso had no sooner espied Basilius, but that as spitefully, as her rotten voice could vtter it, [ 20] she set foorth the sawcinesse of Amphialus. But Basilius onely attended what Zelma∣nes opinion was, who though she hated Amphialus, yet the nobilitie of her courage preuailed ouer it, and shee desired he might be pardoned that youthfull error; con∣sidering the reputation he had, to be one of the best knights in the world; so as here∣after he gouerned himselfe, as one remembring his fault. Basilius giuing the infinite [ 25] tearmes of praises to Zelmanes both valour in conquering, and pittifulnesse in par∣doning, commanded no more wordes to be made of it, since such he thought was her pleasure.

So brought he them vp to visite his wife, where betweene her, and him, the poore Zelmane receaued a tedious entertainement; oppressed with being loued, almost as [ 30] much, as with louing. Basilius not so wise in couering his passion, coulde make his tong go almost no other pace, but to runne into those immoderate praises, which the foolish Louer thinkes short of his Mistres, though they reach farre beyond the heauens. But Gynecia (whome womanly modestie did more outwardly bridle) yet did oftentimes vse the aduantage of her sexe in kissing Zelmane, as shee sate vpon her [ 35] bedde-side by her; which was but still more and more sweete incense, to cast vpon the fire wherein her harte was sacrificed: Once Zelmane coulde not stirre, but that, (as if they had bene poppets, whose motion stoode onely vpon her pleasure) Basili∣us with seruiceable steppes, Gynecia with greedie eyes would follow her. Basilius mind Gynecia well knew, and could haue found in her hart to laugh at, if mirth could haue [ 40] borne any proportion with her fortune. But all Gynecias actions were interpreted by Basilius, as proceeding from iealousie of his amorousnesse. Zelmane betwixt both (like the poore childe, whose father while he beates him, will make him beleeue it is for loue; or like the sicke man, to whom the Phisition sweares, the ill-tasting wal∣lowish medicine he profers, is of a good taste) their loue was hatefull, their courte∣sie [ 45] troublesome, their presence cause of her absence thence, were not only her light, but her life consisted. Alas (thought she to her selfe) Deare Dorus, what ods is there betweene thy destiny and mine? For thou hast to doo in thy pursuite but with shep∣herdish

folkes, who trouble thee with a little enuious care, and affected diligence. But I (besides that I haue now Miso the worst of thy diuels, let loose vpon me) am waited on by Princes, and watched by the two wakefull eyes of Loue and Iealou∣sie. Alas, incomparable Philoclea, thou euer seest me, but dost neuer see me as I am: thou hearest willingly all that I dare say, and I dare not say that which were most fit [ 5] for thee to heare. Alas who euer but I was imprisoned in libertie, and banished be∣ing still present? To whom but me haue louers bene iaylours, & honour a captiuitie?

But the night comming on with her silent steps vpon them, they parted each frō other (if at lest they could bee parted, of whom euery one did liue in another) and went about to flatter sleepe with their beds, that disdained to bestow it selfe liber∣ally [ 10] vpon such eies which by their will would euer be looking: and in lest measure vpon Gynecia. who (when Basilius after long tossing was gotten a sleepe, and the cheereful cōfort of the lights remoued her) kneeling vp in her bed, began with a soft voice, and swolne hart, to renue the curses of her birth; & then in a maner em∣bracing her bed; Ah chastest bed of mine (said she) which neuer heretofore couldst [ 15] accuse me of one defiled thought, how canst thou now receaue this desastred chāg∣ling? Happie, happie be they onely which bee not: and thy blessednes onely in this respect thou maiest feele, that thou hast no feeling. With that she furiously tare off great part of her faire haire: Take here ô forgotten vertue (saide shee) this mise∣rable sacrifice; while my soule was clothed with modestie, that was a comely orna∣ment: [ 20] now why should nature crowne that head, which is so wicked, as her onely despaire is, she cannot be enough wicked? More she would haue said, but that Basi∣lius (awaked with the noise) tooke her in his armes, and began to comfort her; the good-man thinking, it was all for a iealous loue of him: which humor if she would a little haue maintained, perchance it might haue weakned his new conceaued fan∣cies. [ 25] But hee finding her answers wandring from the purpose, left her to herselfe (glad the next morning to take the aduantage of a sleepe, which a little before day, ouer-watched with sorrow, her teares had as it were sealed vp in her eyes) to haue the more conference with Zelmane, who baited on this fashion by these two louers, and euer kept for many meane to declare herselfe, found in her selfe a dayly encrease [ 30] of her violent desires; like a riuer the more swelling, the more his current is stop∣ped.

The chiefe recreation she could finde in her anguish, was sometime to visite that place, where first she was so happy as to see the cause of her vnhap. There would she kisse the ground, and thanke the trees, blisse the aier, & doo dutifull reuerence to e∣uery [ 35] thing that she thought did accompany her at their first meeting: then returne againe to her inward thoughts; sometimes despaire darkning all her imaginations, sometimes the actiue passion of Loue cheering and cleering her inuention, how to vnbar that combersome hinderance of her two ill-matched louers, But this mour∣ning Basilius himself gaue her good occasion to go beyond them. For hauing combd [ 40] and trickt himselfe more curiously, then any time fortie winters before, comming where Zelmane was, he found her giuen ouer to her musical muses, to the great plea∣sure of the good old Basilius, who retired himselfe behinde a tree, while she with a most sweete voice did vtter these passionate verses.

[ 45] LOued I am, and yet complaine of Loue: As louing not, accus'd in Loue I die.

When pittie most I craue, I cruell proue: Still seeking Loue, loue found as much I flie. Burnt in my selfe, I muse at others fire: What I call wrong, I doo the same, and more: [ 5] Bard of my will, I haue beyond desire: I waile for want, and yet am chokt with store. This is thy worke, thou God for euer blinde: Though thousands old, a Boy entit'led still. Thus children doo the silly birds they finde, [ 10] With stroking hurt, and too much cramming kill. Yet thus much Loue, O Loue, I craue of thee: Let me be lou'd, or els not loued bee.

Basilius made no great haste from behind the tree, till he perceaued she had fully [ 15] ended her musick. But then loth to loose the pretious fruite of time, he presented himselfe vnto her, falling downe vpon both his knees, and holding vp his hands, as the old gouernesse of Danae is painted, when she sodainly saw the golden shoure, O heauenly woman, or earthly Goddesse (said he) let not my presence be odious vnto you, nor my humble suite seeme of small weight in your eares. Vouchsafe [ 20] your eies to descend vpon this miserable old-man, whose life hath hitherto bene maintained but to serue as an encrease of your beautifull triumphs. You only haue ouerthrowne me, and in my bondage consists my glory. Suffer not your owne worke to be despised of you: but looke vpon him with pittie, whose life serues for your praise. Zelmane (keeping a countenance ascanses she vnderstood him not) told [ 25] him, It became her euill to suffer such excessiue reuerence of him, but that it worse became her to correct him, to whom she owed duetie: that the opinion she had of his wisedome was such, as made her esteeme greatly of his words; but that the words themselues sounded so•• as she could not imagine what they might intend. Intend? (said Basilius, proud that that was brought in question) what may they [ 30] intend, but a refreshing of my soule, and a swaging of my heat, and enioying those your excellencies, wherein my life is vpheld, and my death threatned? Zelmane lif∣ting vp her face as if she had receaued a mortall iniurie of him. And is this the de∣uotion your ceremonies haue bene bent vnto? said she: Is it the disdaine of my e∣state, or the opinion of my lightnesse, that haue emboldned such base fancies to∣wards [ 35] me? enioying quoth you? now little ioy come to them that yeeld to such enioying. Poore Basilius was so appalled, that his legges bowed vnder him; his eyes lookt as though he would gladly hide himselfe; and his old blood going to his hart, a generall shaking all ouer his bodie possessed him. At length with a wanne mouth; he was about to giue a stammering answere, when it came into Zelmanes [ 40] head by this deuise to make her profite of his folly; and therefore with a relented countenance, thus said vnto him. Your words (mightie Prince) were vnfit either for me to heare, or you to speake: but yet the large testimonie I see of your affe∣ction makes me willing to suppresse a great number of errors. Onely thus much I thinke good to say, that the same words in my Ladie Philocleas mouth, as from one [ 45] woman to another (so as there were no other bodie by) might haue had a better grace; and perchance haue found a gentler receipt.

Basilius (whose senses by Desire were held open, and conceipt was by Loue

quickned) heard scarcely halfe her answere out, but that (as if speedie flight might saue his life) he turned away, and ran with all the speede his bodie would suffer him, towards his daughter Philoclea: whom he found at that time duetifully wat∣ching by her mother, and Miso curiouslie watching her; hauing left Mopsa to doo the like seruice to Pamela. Basilius foorthwith calling Philoclea aside, (with all the [ 5] coniuring words which Desire could endite, and authoritie vtter) besought her she would preserue his life, in whom her life was begonne; she would saue his graye haires from rebuke, and his aged mind from despaire; that if she were not cloyed with his companie, and that she thought not the earth ouer-burdened with him, she would coole his fierie griefe, which was to be done but by her breath. That in [ 10] fine, whatsoeuer he was, he was nothing but what it pleased Zelmane; all the powers of his spirite depending of her: that if she continued cruell, he could no more su∣staine his life, then the earth remaine fruitefull in the Sunnes continuall absence. He concluded, she should in one payment requite all his deserts: and that she nee∣ded not disdaine any seruice (though neuer so meane) which was warranted by [ 15] the sacred name of a father. Philoclea more glad then euer she had knowen her selfe, that she might by this occasion, enioy the priuate conference of Zelmane, yet had so sweete a feeling of vertue in her minde, that she would not suffer a vile colour to be cast ouer her faire thoughts; but with humble grace answered her father: That there needed neither promise nor perswasion to her, to make her doo her vttermost [ 20] for her fathers seruice. That for Zelmanes fauour, she would in all vertuous sort seeke it towards him: and that as she would not pearce further into his meaning, then himselfe should declare, so would she interprete all his doings to be accompli∣shed in goodnes: and therefore desired, (if otherwise it were) that he would not impart it to her, who then should be forced to beginne (by true obedience) a shew [ 25] of disobedience: rather perfourming his generall commandement, which had euer beene, to embrace vertue, then any new particular, sprong out of passion, and con∣trarie to the former. Basilius content to take that, since he could haue no more (thin∣king it a great point, if by her meanes, he could get but a more free accesse vnto Zelmane) allowed her reasons, and tooke her proffer thankfully, desiring only a spee∣die [ 30] returne of comfort. Philoclea was parting, and Miso streight behind her, like Alecto following Proserpina. But Basilius forced her to stay, though with much a doo, she being sharp-set vpon the fulfilling of a shrewde office, in ouer-looking Philoclea: and so said to Basilius, that she did as she was commanded, and could not answere it to Gynecia, if she were any whit from Philoclea: telling him true, that he did euill to [ 35] take her charge from her. But Basilius, (swearing he would put out her eyes, if she stird a foote to trouble his daughter) gaue her a stop for that while.

So away departed Philoclea, with a new field of fancies for her trauayling mind. For well she sawe, her father was growen her aduerse partie, and yet her fortune such, as she must fauour her Riuall; and the fortune of that fortune such, as neither [ 40] that did hurt her, nor any contrarie meane helpe her.

But she walkt but a little on, before she saw Zelmane lying vpon a banke, with her face so bent ouer Ladon, that (her teares falling into the water) one might haue thought, that she began meltingly to be metamorphosed to the vnder-running ri∣uer. But by and by, with speech she made knowen, as well that she liued, as that [ 45] she sorrowed. Faire streames (said she) that do vouchsafe in your cleerenes to re∣present vnto me my blubbered face, let the tribute-offer of my teares vnto you,

procure your stay a while with me, that I may beginne yet at last, to finde some thing that pities me: and that all things of comfort and pleasure doo not flie away from me. But if the violence of your spring commaund you to haste away, to pay your dueties to your great prince, the Sea, yet carrie with you these few wordes, [ 5] and let the vttermost ends of the world know them. A loue more cleere then your selues, dedicated to a Loue (I feare) more cold then your selues, with the cleerenes layes a night of sorow vpon me; and with the coldnes enflames a world of fire with∣in me. With that she tooke a willowe stick, and wrote in a sandie banke these fewe verses.

[ 10] OVer these brookes trusting to ease mine eyes, (Mine eyes euen great in labour with their teares) I layde my face; my face wherein there lyes Clusters of clowdes, which no Sunne euer cleares. In watry glasse my watrie eyes I see: [ 15] Sorrowes ill easde, where sorrowes painted be.

My thoughts imprisonde in my secret woes, With flamie breathes doo issue oft in sound: The sound to this strange aier no sooner goes, [ 20] But that it dooth with Echoes force rebound. And make me heare the plaints I would refraine: Thus outward helps my inward griefe maintaine.

Now in this sand I would discharge my minde, [ 25] And cast from me part of my burdnous cares: But in the sand my tales foretolde I finde, And see therein how well the writer fares. Since streame, aier, sand, mine eyes and eares conspire: [ 30] What hope to quench, where each thing blowes the fire?

And assoone she had written them (a new swarme of thoughts stinging her minde) she was ready with her foot to giue the new-borne letters both death and buriall. But Philoclea (whose delight of hearing and seeing was before a stay from [ 35] interrupting her) gaue her self to be seen vnto her, with such a lightning of Beauty vpon Zelmane, that neither she could looke on, nor would looke off. At last Philo∣clea (hauing a little mused how to cut the threede euen, betweene her owne hope∣lesse affection, and her fathers vnbrideled hope) with eyes, cheekes, and lips, (wher∣of each sang their part, to make vp the harmonie of bashfulnesse) began to say, My Father to whom I owe my self, and therfore, When Zelmane (making a woma∣nish [ 40] habite to be the Armour of her boldnesse, giuing vp her life to the lips of Phi∣loclea, and taking it againe by the sweetenesse of those kisses) humbly besought her to keepe her speach for a while within the Paradise of her minde. For well she knew her fathers errand, who should soone receiue a sufficient answere. But now she demaunded leaue not to loose this long sought-for commoditie of time, to [ 45] ease her hart thus farre, that if in her agonies her destinie was to be condemned by Philocleas mouth, at lest Philoclea might know, whom she had condemned. Philo∣clea easily yeelded to graunt her owne desire: and so making the greene banke

the situation, and the riuer the prospect of the most beautifull buildings of Nature, Zelmane doubting how to beginne, though her thoughts already had runne to the ende, with a minde fearing the vnworthinesse of euery word that should be pre∣sented to her eares, at length brought it forth in this manner.

Most beloued Ladie, the incomparable excellencies of your selfe, (waited-on by [ 5] the greatnesse of your estate) and the importaunce of the thing (whereon my life consisteth) doth require both many ceremonies before the beginning, and many circumstaunces in the vttering my speech, both bolde, and fearefull. But the small opportunitie of enuious occasion (by the malicious eie hatefull Loue doth cast vpon me) and the extreme bent of my affection (which will eyther breake out in [ 10] words, or breake my harte) compell me, not onely to embrace the smallest time, but to passe by the respects due vnto you, in respect of your poore caitifes life, who is now, or neuer to be preserued. I doo therefore vowe vnto you, hereafter neuer more to omit all dutifull forme: doo you onely now vouchsafe to heare the matter of a minde most perplexed. If euer the sound of Loue haue come to [ 15] your eares, or if euer you haue vnderstood, what force it hath had to conquere the strongest hartes, and change the most setled estates: receiue here an example of those straunge Tragedies; one, that in himselfe conteineth the particularities of all those misfortunes: and from hencefoorth beleeue that such a thing may be, since you shall see it is. You shall see (I say) a liuing image, and a present storie [ 20] of what Loue can doo, when he is bent to ruine.

But alas, whether goest thou my tongue? or how doth my harte consent to ad∣uenture the reuealing his neerest touching secrete? But peace Feare, thou com∣mest too late, when already the harme is taken. Therefore I say againe, O onely Princesse, attend here a miserable miracle of affection. Behold here before your [ 25] eyes Pyrocles, Prince of Macedon, whome you onely haue brought to this game of Fortune, and vnused Metamorphosis: whome you onely haue made neglect his countrie, forget his Father, and lastly, forsake to be Pyrocles: the same Pyrocles, who (you heard) was betrayed by being put in a ship, which being burned, Pyrocles was drowned. O most true presage: for these traytors, my eyes, putting me into [ 30] a shippe of Desire, which dayly burneth, those eyes (I say) which betraied me, will neuer leaue till they haue drowned me. But be not, be not, (most excellent Lady) you that Nature hath made to be the Load-starre of comfort, be not the Rocke of shipwracke: you whome vertue hath made the Princesse of felicitie, be not the minister of ruine: you, whom my choyse hath made the Goddesse of my [ 35] safetie, O let not, let not, from you be powred vpon me destruction. Your faire face hath manie tokens in it of amazement at my words: thinke then what his amazement is, from whence they come: since no words can carry with them the life of the inward feeling. I desire, that my desire may be waied in the ballances of Honour, and let Vertue hold them. For if the highest Loue in no base person may [ 40] aspire to grace, then may I hope your beautie will not be without pittie. If other∣wise you be (alas but let it neuer be so) resolued, yet shall not my death be com∣fortles, receiuing it by your sentence.

The ioy which wrought into Pygmalions minde, while he found his beloued image was softer, and warmer in his folded armes, till at length it accomplished his [ 45] gladnes with a perfect womans shape (still beautified with the former perfections) was euen such, as by each degree of Zelmanes words creepingly entred into Philo∣clea:

till her pleasure was fully made vp with the manifesting of his being; which was such as in hope did ouer-come Hope. Yet Doubt would faine haue playd his parte in her minde, and cald in question, how she should be assured that Zelmane was Pyrocles. But Loue streight stood vp and deposed, that a lie could not come [ 5] from the mouth of Zelmane•• Besides, a certaine sparke of honour, which rose in her well-disposed minde, made her feare to be alone with him, with whome alone she desired to be (with all the other contradictions growing in those minds, which nei∣ther absolutely clime the rocke of Vertue, nor freely sinke into the sea of Vanitie) but that sparke soone gaue place, or at lest gaue no more light in her minde, then a [ 10] candle doth in the Sunnes presence. But euen sicke with a surfet of ioy, and feare∣full of she knewe not what (as he that newly findes huge treasures, doubts whether he sleepe or no; or like a fearefull Deere, which then lookes most about, when he comes to the best feede) with a shrugging kinde of tremor through all her princi∣pall partes, she gaue these affectionate words for answere. Alas, how painefull a [ 15] thing it is to a deuided minde to make a well-ioyned answere? how hard it is to bring inward shame to outward confession? and what handsomnes trow you can be obserued in that speeche, which is made one knowes not to whom? Shall I say ô Zelmane? Alas your words be against it. Shall I say Prince Pyrocles? wretch that I am, your shew is manifest against it. But this, this I may well say; If I had continu∣ed [ 20] as I ought, Philoclea, you had either neuer bene, or euer bene Zelmane: you had either neuer attempted this change, set on with hope, or neuer discouered it, stopt with despaire. But I feare me, my behauiour ill gouerned, gaue you the first com∣fort: I feare me, my affection ill hid, hath giuen you this last assurance: I feare in∣deed, the weakenesse of my gouernment before, made you thinke such a maske [ 25] would be gratefull vnto me: and my weaker gouernment since, makes you to pull off the visar. What shall I doo then? shall I seeke far-fetched inuentions? shall I la∣bour to lay marble coulours ouer my ruinous thoughts? or rather, though the pure∣nes of my virgin-minde be stained, let me keepe the true simplicitie of my word. True it is, alas, too true it is, ô Zelmane (for so I loue to call thee, since in that name [ 30] my loue first began, and in the shade of that name my loue shall best lie hidden,) that euen while so thou wert, (what eye bewitched me I know not) my passions were fitter to desire, then to be desired. Shall I say then, I am sory, or that my loue must be turned to hate, since thou art turned to Pyrocles? how may that wel be, since when thou wert Zelmane, the despaire thou mightest not be thus, did most torment [ 35] me. Thou hast then the victorie: vse it with vertue. Thy vertue wan me; with ver∣tue preserue me. Doost thou loue me? keepe me then still worthy to be beloued.

Then held she her tongue, and cast downe a self-accusing looke, finding, that in her selfe she had (as it were) shot out of the bow of her affection, a more quick opening of her minde, then she minded to haue done. But Pyrocles so caried vp [ 40] with ioy, that he did not enuy the Gods felicitie, presented her with some iewels of right princely value, as some little tokens of his loue, and qualitie: and withall shewed her letters from his father King Euarchus, vnto him, which euen in the Sea had amongst his iewels bene preserued. But little needed those proofes to one, who would haue fallen out with herselfe, rather then make any contrarie coniectures to [ 45] Zelmane speeches; so that with such imbracements, as it seemed their soules desired to meete, and their harts to kisse, as their mouthes did: which faine Pyrocles would haue sealed with the chiefe armes of his desire, but Philoclea commaunded

the contrary; and yet they passed the promise of mariage.

And then at Philocleas entreaty, who was willing to purloine all occasions of re∣mayning with Zelmane, she told her the storie of her life, from the time of their de∣parting from Erona, for the rest she had already vnderstood of her sister. For (saide she) I haue vnderstood, how you first in the companie of your Noble cousin Mu∣sidorus [ 5] parted from Thessalia, and of diuers aduentures, which with no more daun∣ger then glory you passed through, till your comming to the succour of the Queene Erona; and the ende of that warre (you might perceiue by my selfe) I had vnderstood of the Prince Plangus. But what since was the course of your doings, vntill you came, after so many victories, to make a conquest of poore me, that I [ 10] know not, the fame thereof hauing rather shewed it by pieces; then deliuered any full forme of it. Therefore, deere Pyrocles (for what can mine eares be so sweetly fed with as to heare you of you) be liberall vnto me of those things which haue made you indeede pretious to the worlde, and now doubt not to tell of your perils; for since I haue you here out of them, euen the remembrance of them is plea∣saunt. [ 15] Pyrocles easily perceiued she was content with kindnesse, to put off occa∣sion of further kindnesse; wherein Loue shewed himselfe a cowardly boy, that durst not attempt for feare of offending. But rather Loue prooued himselfe va∣liant, that durst with the sworde of reuerent dutie gaine-stand the force of so many enraged desires. But so it was, that though he knewe this discourse was [ 20] to entertaine him from a more streight parley, yet he durst not but kisse his rod, and gladly make much of that entertainement which she allotted vnto him: and therefore with a desirous sigh chastning his brest for too much desiring, Sweete Princesse of my life (said he) what Trophees, what Triumph, what Monu∣ments, what Histories might euer make my fame yeeld so sweete a Musicke to my [ 25] eares, as that it pleaseth you to lend your minde to the knowledge of any thing touching Pyrocles, onely therefore of value, because he is your Pyrocles? And there∣fore grow I now so proud, as to thinke it worth the hearing, since you vouchsafe to giue it the hearing. Therefore (onely height of my hope) vouchsafe to know, that after the death of Tiridates, and setling Erona in her gouernment; for setled we [ 30] left her, howsoeuer since (as I perceiued by your speech the last day) the vngrate∣full treason of her ill-chosen husband ouerthrew her (a thing in trueth neuer till this time by me either heard, or suspected) for who could thinke without hauing such a minde as Antiphilus, that so great a beautie as Eronas (indeed excellent) could not haue held his affection? so great goodnes could not haue bound [ 35] gratefulnesse? and so high aduancement could not haue satisfied his ambition? But therefore true it is, that wickednesse may well be compared to a bottomlesse pit, into which it is farre easier to keepe ones selfe from falling, then being fallen, to giue ones selfe any stay from falling infinitely. But for my Cosen, and me, vpon this cause we parted from Erona. [ 40]

Euardes (the braue and mighty Prince, whom it was my fortune to kill in the combat for Erona) had three Nephewes, sonnes to a sister of his; all three set a∣mong the foremost rancks of Fame for great minds to attempt, and great force to perfourme what they did attempt; especially the eldest, by name Anaxius; to whom all men would willingly haue yeelded the height of praise, but that his na∣ture [ 45] was such, as to bestow it vpon himselfe, before any could giue it. For of so vn∣supportable a pride he was, that where his deeds might wel stir enuie, his demeanor

did rather breed disdaine. And if it bee true that the Gyants euer made war against heauen, he had bene a fit ensigne-bearer for that company. For nothing seemed hard to him, though impossible; and nothing vniust, while his liking was his iustice. Now he in these wars flatly refused his aid; because he could not brooke, that [ 5] the worthy Prince Plangus was by his cosen Tiridates preferred before him. For al∣lowing no other weights, but the sword and speare in iudging of desert, how-much he esteemed himselfe before Plangus in that, so much would he haue had his allow∣ance in his seruice.

But now that he vnderstood that his vncle was slaine by me, I think rather scorne [ 10] that any should kil his vncle, then any kindnesse (an vn-vsed guest to an arrogant soule) made him seeke his reuenge; I must confesse in manner gallant enough. For he sent a challenge vnto me to meete him at a place appointed, in the confines of the kingdome of Lycia; where he would proue vpon me, that I had by some trecherie ouercome his vncle, whom els many hundreds such as I, could not haue withstood. [ 15] Youth and successe made mee willing enough to accept any such bargaine; especi∣ally, because I had heard that your cosen Amphialus (who for some yeares hath vni∣uersally borne the name of the best Knight in the world) had diuers times fought with him, and neuer bene able to master him; but so had left him, that euery man thought Anaxius in that one vertue of curtesie far short of him, in all other his [ 20] match; Anaxius still deeming himselfe for his superiour. Therefore to him I would goe, and I would needs goe alone, because so I vnderstood for certaine, he was; and (I must confesse) desirous to do something without the company of the incompa∣rable Prince Musidorus, because in my hart I acknowledge that I owed more to his presence, then to any thing in my selfe, whatsoeuer before I had done. For of him [ 25] indeed (as of any worldly cause) I must grant, as receiued, what euer there is, or may be good in me. He taught me by word, and best by example, giuing mee in him so liuely an Image of vertue, as ignorance could not cast such mist ouer mine eyes, as not to see, and to loue it, and all with such deare friendship and care, as (ô heauen) how can my life euer requite vnto him? which made me indeed finde in my selfe [ 30] such a kind of depending vpon him, as without him I found a weakenesse, and a mistrustfulnes of my selfe, as one strayed from his best strength, when at any time I mist him. Which humour perceiuing to ouer-rule me, I straue against it; not that I was vnwilling to depend vpon him in iudgement, but by weakenesse I would not; which though it held me to him, made me vnworthy of him. Therefore I desired [ 35] his leaue, and obtained it: such confidence he had in me, preferring my reputation before his owne tendernesse; and so priuately went from him, hee determining (as after I knew) in secret maner, not to be far from the place, where we appointed to meete, to preuent any foule play that might be offered vnto me. Full loth was Ero∣na to let vs depart from her, (as it were) forefeeling the harmes which after fel to her. [ 40] But I, (ridde fully from those combers of kindnesse, and halfe a dayes iorney in my way toward Anaxius) met an aduēture, which (though in it self of smal importance) I wil tel you at large, because by the occasion thereof I was brought to as great com∣ber and danger, as lightly any might escape.

As I past through a Laund (ech side whereof was so bordred both with high [ 45] tymber trees, and copses of farre more humble growth, that it might easily bring a solitarie minde to looke for no other companions then the wild burgesses of the for∣rest) I heard certaine cries, which comming by pawses to mine eares from within

the wood of the right hand, made mee well assured by the greatnesse of the crie, it was the voice of a man, though it were a verie vnmanlike voice, so to crie. But making mine eare my guide, I left not many trees behinde me, before I sawe at the bottome of one of them a gentle-man bound (with many garters) hand & foot, so as well he might tomble and tosse, but neither runne nor resist he coulde. Vpon [ 5] him (like so many Eagles vpon an Oxe) were nine Gentle-women; truely such, as one might wel enough say, they were hansome. Eche of them held bodkins in their handes, wherewith they continually pricked him, hauing bene before-hand vnar∣med of any defence from the wast vpward, but onely of his shirte: so as the poore man wept and bled, cried and praied, while they sported themselues in his paine, [ 10] and delighted in his praiers, as the argumentes of their victorie.

I was moued to compassion, and so much the more that hee straight cald to me for succour, desiring me at lest to kill him, to deliuer him from those tormenters. But before my-selfe could resolue, much lesse any other tell what I would resolue, there came in cholericke hast towards me about seuen or eight knights; the fore∣most [ 15] of which willed me to get me away, & not to trouble the Ladies, while they were taking their due reuenge, but with so ouer-mastring a maner of pride, as truly my heart could not brooke it: and therefore (answering them, that howe I woulde haue defended him from the Ladies I knew not, but from them I would) I began a combat first with him particularly, and after his death with the others (that had lesse [ 20] good maners) ioyntly. But such was the ende of it, that I kept the fielde with the death of some, and flight of others. In so much as the women (afraid, what angrie victorie would bring forth) ran all away; sauing onely one; who was so flesht in ma∣lice, that neyther during, nor after the fight, she gaue anie truce to her crueltie, but still vsed the little instrument of her great spight, to the well-witnest paine of the im∣patient [ 25] patient: and was now about to put out his eyes, which all this while were spared, because they should doe him the discomfort of seeing who preuayled ouer him. When I came in, and after much adoe, brought her to some conference, (for sometime it was before she would harken, more before she would speake; and most, before shee would in her speeche leaue off the sharpe remembrance of her bod∣kin) [ 30] but at length when I puld off my head-peece, and humbled entreated her pardon, or knowledge why she was cruell; out of breath more with choller (which increased in his owne exercise) then with the paine she tooke, much to this purpose she gaue her griefe vnto my knowledge. Gentleman (said she) much it is against my will to forbeare any time the executing of my iust reuenge vpon t••is naughtie crea∣ture, [ 35] a man in nothing, but in deceiuing women; But because I see you are yoong, and like enough to haue the power (if you would haue the mind) to do much more mischief, then he, I am content vpō this bad subiect to read a lecture to your vertue.

This man called Pamphilus, in birth I must confesse is noble (but what is that to him, if it shalbe a staine to his dead auncestors to haue left such an offspring?) in [ 40] shape as you see not vncomely (indeed the fit maske of his disguised falshood) in conuersation wittily pleasant, and pleasantly gamesome; his eyes full of merie sim∣plicitie, his wordes of heartie companablenesse; and such a one, whose head one would not thinke so staied, as to thinke mischieuously: delighted in all such things, which by imparting the delight to thers, makes the vser therof welcome; as, Musick, [ 45] Daunsing, Hunting, Feasting, Riding, and such like. And to conclude, such a one, as who can keepe him at armes end, need neuer wish a better companion. But vn∣der

these qualities lies such a poysonous addar as I wil tell you. For by those gifts of Nature and Fortune (being in all places acceptable) he creepes, nay (to say truely) he flies so into the fauour of poore sillie womē, that I would be too much ashamed to confesse, if I had not reuenge in my hande, as well as shame in my cheekes. For [ 5] his hart being wholy delighted in deceiuing vs, we could neuer be warned, but ra∣ther one bird caught, serued for a stale to bring in more. For the more he gat, the more still he shewed, that he (as it were) gaue away to his new mistresse, when hee betrayed his promises to the former. The cunning of his flatterie, the readines of his teares, the infinitenes of his vowes, were but among the weakest threedes of his [ 10] nette. But the stirring our owne passions, and by the entrance of them, to make himselfe Lord of our forces; there lay his Masters part of cunning, making vs now iealous, now enuious, now proud of what we had, desirous of more; now giuing one the triumph, to see him that was Prince of many, Subiect to her; now with an estranged looke, making her feare the losse of that minde. which indeede could ne∣uer [ 15] be had: neuer ceasing humblenes and diligence, till he had imbarked vs in some such disaduantage, as wee could not returne dryshod; and then suddenly a tyrant, but a craftie tyrant. For so would hee vse his imperiousnes, that we had a delightfull feare & an awe which made vs loath to lose our hope. And, which is strangest (when sometimes with late repentance I thinke of it) I must confesse, euen in the greatest [ 20] tempest of my iudgement was I neuer driuen to thinke him excellent, and yet so could set my minde, both to get and keepe him, as though therein had laien my fe∣licitie: like them I haue seene play at the ball, growe extremely earnest, who should haue the ball, and yet euery one knew it was but a ball. But in end, the bitter sauce of the sport was, that wee had ether our hartes broken with sorrow, or our estates [ 25] spoyled with being at his direction, or our honours for euer lost, partly by her owne faults, but principally by his faultie vsing of our faults. For neuer was there man that could with more scornefull eyes beholde her, at whose feete he had lately laine, nor with a more vnmanlike brauerie vse his tongue to her disgrace, which lately [ 30] had song Sonets of her praises: being so naturally inconstant, as I maruell his soule findes not some way to kill his bodie, whereto it had beene so long vnited. For so hath he dealt with vs (vnhappie fooles,) as we could neuer tell, whether hee made greater haste after he once liked, to enioy, or after he once enioyed, to forsake. But making a glorie of his owne shame, it delighted him to bee challenged of vnkinde∣nesse: it was a triumph vnto him to haue his mercie called for: and hee thought the [ 35] fresh colours of his beautie were painted in nothing so well, as in the ruines of his Louers: yet so farre had we engaged our selues, (vnfortunate soules) that we listed not complaine, since our complaints could not but carrie the greatest accusation to our selues. But euerie of vs (each for her selfe,) laboured all meanes how to recouer him, while he rather daily sent vs companions of our deceipt, then euer returned [ 40] in any sound and faithfull manner. Till at length he concluded all his wronges with betrothing himselfe to one (I must confesse) worthie to be liked, if any worthinesse might excuse so vnworthie a changeablenesse; leauing vs nothing but remorse for what was past, and dispaire of what might followe. Then in deede the common in∣iurie made vs all ioyne in fellowshipp, who till that time, had employed our ende∣uours [ 45] one against the other. For wee thought nothing was a more condemning of vs, then the iustifiing of his loue to her by mariage: then Despaire made Feare vali∣ant, and Reuenge gaue Shame countenance: whereupon, we (that you saw here)

deuised how to get him among vs alone: which hee (suspecting no such matter of them, whom he had by often abuses he thought made tame to be still abused) easi∣ly gaue vs opportunitie to do.

And a man may see, euen in this, how soone Rulers grow proud, and in theyr pride foolish: he came with such an authoritie among vs, as if the Planets had done [ 5] inough for vs, that by vs once he had beene delighted. And when wee began in courteous maner, one after the other, to lay his vnkindnes vnto him, he seeing him∣selfe confronted by so many (like a resolute Orator,) went not to deniall, but to iu∣stisie his cruell falshood, and al with such iestes, and disdainfull passages, that if the iniurie coulde not bee made greater, yet were our conceites made the apter to [ 10] apprehend it.

Among other of his answeres (forsooth) I shall neuer forget, howe hee woulde proue it was no inconstancie to chaunge from one loue to another, but a great constancie; and contrarie, that which we call constancie, to be most chaungeable. For (said he) I euer loued my delight, and delighted alwaies in what was Louely: [ 15] and where-soeuer I found occasion to obtaine that, I constantly followed it. But these constant fooles you speake of, though their Mistres growe by sicknesse foule, or by fortune miserable, yet still will loue her, and so commit the absurdest incon∣stancie that may be, in changing their loue from fairenesse to foulenesse, and from loulinesse to his contrarie; like one not content to leaue a friend, but will streight [ 20] giue ouer himselfe to his mortall enemie: where I (whome you call inconstant) am euer constant; to Beautie, in others; and Delight in my selfe. And so in this iolly scoffing brauerie he went ouer vs all, saying, He left one, because she was ouerwai∣ward: another, because she was too soone wonne: a third, because she was not mer∣rie inough: a fourth, because she was ouer-gamesome: the fifth, because shee was [ 25] growne with griefe subiect to sicknesse: the sixt because she was so foolish, as to be ielous of him: the seuenth, because shee had refused to carrie a letter for him, to another that he loued: the eight, because she was not secret, the ninth, because she was not liberall: but to me, who am named Dido, (and indeede haue mette with a false AEneas) to me, I say, (ô the vngratefull villanie) he could finde no other fault to [ 30] obiect, but that (perdie) he met with many fayrer.

But when he had thus plaide the carelesse Prince, we (hauing those seruants of ours in readines, whom you lately so manfully ouercame) laide holde of him; be∣ginning at first but that trifling reuenge, in which you foūd vs busie; but meaning af∣terwardes to haue mangled him so, as should haue lost his credit for euer abusing [ 35] more. but as you haue made my fellowes flie away, so for my part the greatnesse of his wrong ouershadowes in my iudgement the greatnesse of any daunger. For was it not inough for him, to haue deceiued me, and through the deceipt abused mee, and after the abuse forsaken me, but that hee must now, of all the company, and be∣fore all the company lay want of beautie to my charge? Many fairer? I trow euen in [ 40] your iudgement, Sir, (if your eies do not beguile me) not many fairer; and I know (whosoeuer saies the contrary) there are not many fairer. And of whom should I receiue this reproch, but of him, who hath best cause to know there are not many fairer? And therefore how-soeuer my fellowes pardon his iniuries, for my parte I will euer remember, and remember to reuenge this scorne of all scornes. With that [ 45] she to him afresh; and surely would haue put out his eies (who lay mute for shame, if hee did not sometimes crie for feare) if I had not lept from my horse, and ming∣ling

force with intreaty, staied her furie.

But, while I was perswading her to meekenes, comes a number of his friends, to whom he forthwith cried, that they should kill that woman, that had thus betraied and disgraced him. But then I was faine to forsake the ensigne; vnder which I had [ 5] before serued, and to spend my vttermost force in the protecting of the Ladie; which so well preuailed for her, that in ende there was a faithfull peace promised of all sids. And so I leauing her in a place of securitie (as she thought) went on my iour∣ney towards Anaxius, for whom I was faine to stay two daies in the apointed place, he disdaining to waite for me, till he was sure I were there.

[ 10] I did patientlie abide his angrie pleasure, till about that space of tyme he came (in∣deede, according to promise) alone: and (that I may not say too little, because he is wont to say too much) like a man, whose courage was apt to clime ouer any daun∣ger. And assoone as euer he came neere me, in fit distaunce for his purpose, he with much fury, (but with fury skilfully guided) ran vpon me; which I (in the best sort [ 15] I could) resisted, hauing kept my selfe ready for him, because I had vnderstood, that he obserued few complements in matter of armes, but such as a proud anger did in∣dit•• vnto him. And so putting our horses into a full careere, we hit each other vpon the head with our Launces: I think he felte my blowe, for my parte (I must confesse) I neuer receiued the like: but I thinke though my senses were astonished, my mind [ 20] forced them to quicken themselues, because I had learned of him, how little fauour he is woont to show in any matter of aduantage. And indeede hee was turned, and comming vpon me with his sworde drawne, both our staues hauing beene broken at that encounter. But I was so ready to answere him, that truely I knowe not who gaue the first blowe. But whosoeuer gaue the first, was quickly seconded by the se∣cond. [ 25] And indeed (excellentest Ladie) I must say truly, for a time it was well fought betweene vs; he vndoubtedly being of singular valour, (I would to God, it were not abased by his too much loftinesse) but as by the occasion of the combate, win∣ning and loosing ground, we chaunged places, his horse happened to come vpon the point of the brokē speare, which fallen to the ground chaunced to stand vpward [ 30] so as it lighting vpon his hart, the horse died. He driuen to dismount, threatned, if I did not the like, to do as much for my horse, as Fortune had done for his. But whe∣ther for that, or because I would not be beholding to Fortune for any part of the vic∣torie, I descended. So began our foote-fight in such sort that we were well entred to bloud of both sides, when there comes by, that vnconstant Pamphilus, whom I [ 35] had deliuered (easie to be knowne, for he was bare faced) with a dosen armed men after him; but before him he had Dido (that Ladie, who had most sharpely punished him) riding vpon a palfery, he following her with most vnmanlike crueltie; beating her with wandes he had in his hande, she crying for sense of paine, or hope of suc∣cour: which was so pittifull a sight vnto me, that it mooued me to require Anaxius [ 40] to deferre our combate, till an other day, and now to performe the duties of Knight∣hood in helping this distressed Ladie. But hee that disdaines to obey any thing but his passion (which hee cals his minde) bad mee leaue of that thought; but when hee had killed mee, hee woulde then (perhaps) go too her succour. But I well finding the fight would bee long betweene vs (longing in my hart too deliuer the [ 45] poore Dido) giuing him so great a blowe, as somwhat staied him, to terme it a right) I flatly ran away from him towarde my horse, who trotting after the companie, in in mine armour I was put to some paine, but that vse made mee nimble vnto it. But as I followed my horse, Anaxius followed mee: but his prowde harte did so dis 〈1 page missing〉〈1 page missing〉 〈1 page missing〉〈1 page missing〉

times bitterlye warne his daughter of bringing such costlye mates vnder his roofe: which she grieuing at, desired much to know my name, I thinke partlye of kindnesse to remember who had done some-thing for her, and partlye because she assured her selfe I was such a one as would make enen his miser-minde con∣tented, with what he had done. And accordingly she demaunded my name, and [ 5] estate, with such earnestnesse, that I whom Loue had not as then so robbed me of my selfe, as to be another then I am, told her directly my name and condition: whereof she was no more gladde then her father, as I might well perceaue by some ill fauoured cheerefulnesse, which then first began to wrinckle it selfe in his face. [ 10]

But the causes of their ioyes were farre different; for as the shepheard and the butcher both may looke vpon one sheepe with pleasing conceipts, but the shep∣heard with minde to profit himselfe by preseruing, the butcher with killing him: So she reioyced to finde that mine own benefits had tyed me to be her friend, who was a Prince of such greatnesse, and louingly reioyced: but his ioye grew, [ 15] (as I to my danger after perceiued) by the occasion of the Queene Artaxias set∣ting my head to sale, for hauing slaine her brother Tiridates; which being the summe of an hundreth thousand crownes (to whosoeuer brought me aliue into her hands) that olde wretch, (who had ouer-liued all good nature) though he had lying idly by him much more then that, yet aboue all things louing money, for [ 20] monies owne sake determined to betray me, so well deseruing of him to haue that which he was determined neuer to vse. And so knowing that the next morning I was resolued to go to the place where I had left Anaxius, he sent in all speed to a Captaine of a Garrison neere by; which though it belonged to the King of Iberia, (yet knowing the Captaines humor to delight so in riotous spending [ 25] as he cared not how he came by the meanes to maintaine it) doubted not that to be halfe with him in the gaine, he would playe his quarters part in the treason. And therefore that night agreeing of the fittest places where they might surprise me the morning, the olde caitiffe was growne so ceremonious, as he would needs accom∣panie me some myles in my way; a sufficient token to me, if Nature had made me [ 30] apte to suspect; since a churles curtesie rarely comes but either for gaine, or fal∣shood. But I suffered him to stumble into that point of good manner: to which purpose he came out with all his clownes, horst vpon such cart-iades, and so fur∣nished, as in good faith I thought with my selfe, if that were thrift, I wisht none of my freends or subiects euer to thriue. As for his daughter (the gentle Dido) she [ 35] would also (but in my conscience with a farre better minde) prolong the time of farewell, as long as he.

And so we went on togither: he so old in wickednes, that he could looke me in the face, and freely talke with me, whose life he had alreadie contracted for: till comming into the falling of a way which ledde vs into a place, of each-side [ 40] whereof men might easilye keepe themselues vndiscouered, I was encompassed sodainly by a great troupe of enemies both of horse and foote, who willed me to yeelde my selfe to the Queene Artaxia. But they could not haue vsed worse eloquence to haue perswaded my yeelding, then that; I knowing the little good will Artaxia bare me. And therefore making necessitie and iustice my best sword [ 45] and shielde, I vsed the other weapons I had as well as I could; I am sure to the little ease of a good number, who trusting to their number more then to their

valure, and valewing money higher then equitie, felt, that guiltlesnesse is not al∣wayes with ease oppressed. As for Chremes, he withdrew himselfe, yet so guilding his wicked conceipts with his hope of gaine, that he was content to be a beholder, how I should be taken to make his pray.

[ 5] But I was growne so wearie, that I supported my selfe more with anger then strength, when the most excellent Musidorous came to my succour; who hauing followed my trace as well as he could, after he found I had left the fight with Anaxius, came to the niggards Castell, where he found all burnd and spoiled by the countrie people, who bare mortall hatred to that couetous man, and now [ 10] tooke the time, when the castell was left almost without garde, to come in, and leaue monuments of their malice therein: which Musidorus not staying either to further, or impeache, came vpon the spurre after me (because with one voice ma∣ny tolde him, that if I were in his company, it was for no good meant vnto me) and in this extremitie found me. But when I saw that Cosen of mine, me thought [ 15] my life was doubled, and where before I thought of a noble death, I now thought of a noble victorie. For who can feare that hath Musidorus by him? who, what he did there for me, how many he killed, not straunger for the number then for the straunge blowes wherwith he sent them to a wel-deserued death, might well de∣light me to speak off, but I should so holde you too long in euery particular. But in [ 20] trueth, there if euer, and euer, if euer any man, did Musidorus shew himselfe second to none in able valour.

Yet what the vnmeasurable excesse of their number woulde haue done in the ende I knowe not, but the triall thereof was cutte off by the chaunceable com∣ming thither of the King of Iberia, that same father of the worthy Plangus, whom it [ 25] hath pleased you sometimes to mention: who, (not yeelding ouer to olde age his countrie delights, especially of hauking) was at that time (following a Merline) brought to see this iniurie offred vnto vs: and hauing great numbers of Courtiers waiting vpon him, was straight known by the souldiers that assaulted vs, to be their King, and so most of them with-drew themselues.

[ 30] He by his authoritie knowing of the Captaines owne constrained confession what was the motiue of this mischieuous practise; misliking much such violence should be offred in his countrie to men of our ranke? but chiefelye disdaining it should be done in respect of his Niece, whom (I must confesse wrongfully) he ha∣ted, because he interpreted that her brother and she had maintained his sonne Plan∣gus [ 35] against him, caused the Captaines head presently to be striken off, and the old bad Chremes to be hanged: though truely for my part, I earnestly laboured for his life, because I had eaten of his bread. But one thing was notable for a con∣clusion of his miserable life, that neither th•• death of his daughter, who (alas poore Gentlewoman was by chaunce slaine among his clownes, while she ouerboldelye [ 40] for her weake sex sought to hold them from me, nor yet his own shamefull end was so much in his mouth as he was ledde to execution, as the losse of his goods, and burning of his house: which often, with more laughter then teares of the hearers, he made pittifull exclamations vpon.

This iustice thus done, and we deliuered, the King indeed in royall sorte inuited [ 45] vs to his Court, not farre thence: in all pointes entertaining vs so, as truelye I must euer acknowledge a beholdingnes vnto him: although the streame of it fel out not to be so sweet as the spring. For after some daies being there (curing our selues of

such wounds as we had receiued, while I, causing diligent search to be made of A∣naxius, could learne thing, but that he was goneno out of the countrie, boasting in euerye place how he had made me run away) we were brought to receaue the fa∣uour of acquaintance with this Queene Andromana, whom the Princesse Pamela did in so liuelye colours describe the last day, as still me thinkes the figure thereof pos∣sesseth [ 5] mine eyes confirmed by the knowledge my selfe had.

And therefore I shall neede the lesse to make you know what kinde of wo∣man she was; but this onely, that first with the raines of affection, and after with the very vse of directing, she had made her selfe so absolute a maister of her hus∣bands minde, that a while he would not, and after, he could not tell how to gouern [ 10] without being gouerned by her: but finding an ease in not vnderstanding, let loose his thoughts wholy to pleasure, entrusting to her the entire conduct of all his royall affaires. A thing that may luckely fall out to him that hath the blessing, to match with some Heroicall minded Lady. But in him it was neither guided by wisdome, nor followed by Fortune, but therby was slipt insensiblie into such an e∣state, [ 15] that he liued at her vndiscreete discretion: all his subiectes hauing by some yeares learned so to hope for good, and feare of harm, onely from her, that it should haue needed a stronger vertue then his, to haue vnwound so deeply an entred vice. So that either not striuing (because he was contented) or contented (because he would not striue) he scarcely knew what was done in his owne chamber, but as it [ 20] pleased her Instruments to frame the relation.

Now we being brought knowen vnto her (the time that we spent in curing some very dangerous wounds) after once we were acquainted, (and acquainted we were sooner then our selues expected) she continually almost haunted vs, till (and it was not long a dooing) we discouered a most violent bent of affection: and that so [ 25] strangely, that we might well see, an euill minde in authoritie, dooth not onely fol∣low the sway of the desires already within it, but frames to it selfe new desires, not before thought of. For, with equall ardour she affected vs both: & so did her great∣nes disdaine shamefastnes, that she was content to acknowledge it to both. For, (hauing many times torne the vaile of modestie) it seemed, for a last delight, that [ 30] she delighted in infamy: which often she had vsed to her husbands shame, filling all mens eares (but his) with his reproch; while he hoodwinkt with kindenes) lest of all men knew who strake him. But her first degree was, by setting forth her beauties, (truely in nature not to be misliked, but as much aduanced to the eye, as abased to the iudgement by art) thereby to bring vs (as willingly-caught fishes) to bite at her [ 35] baite. And thereto had she that scutchion of her desires supported by certaine bad∣ly-diligent ministers, who often cloyed our eares with her praises, and would needs teach vs a way of felicitie by seeking her fauour. But when she found, that we were as deafe to thē as dumb to her; thē she lifted no lōger stay in the suburbs of her foo∣lish desires, but directly entred vpon thē; making her self an impudent suter, autho∣rizing [ 40] her selfe very much with making vs see that all fauor and power in that realm, so depēded vpon her, that now (being in her hands) we were ether to keep, or lose our liberty, at her discretion; which yet a while she so tempted, as that we might ra∣ther suspect, thē she threaten. But when our woundes grew so, as that they gaue vs leaue to trauell, and that she found we were purposed to vse all meanes we could to [ 45] depart thence, she (with more and more importunatenes) craued, which in all good maners was either of vs to be desired, or not granted. Truely (most faire and euerye

way excellēt Lady) you would haue wōdred to haue seen, how before vs she would confes the contention in her own mind between that louely (indeed most louelye) broūnes of Musidorus his face, & this colour of mine, which she (in the deceiuable stile of affection) would intitle beautifull: how her eyes wandred like a glutton at a [ 5] feast) from the one to the other; and how her words would begin half of the sentēce to Musidorus, & end the other half to Pyrocles: not ashamed (seeing the friendship be∣tweene vs) to desire either of vs to be a mediator to the other; as if we should haue played one request at Tennis between vs: and often wishing that she might be the angle, where the lines of our friendship might meet; and be the knot which might [ 10] tie our harts together. Which proceeding of hers I do the more largely set before you (most deare Lady) because by the foile therof, you may see the noblenes of my desire to you, and the warrantablenes of your fauour to me.

At that Philoclea smiled, with a little nod. But (said Pyrocles) when she perceiued no hope by suite to preuaile, then (perswaded by the rage of affection, and en∣couraged [ 15] by daring to doo any thing) she founde meanes to haue vs accused to the King, as though we went about some practise to ouerthrowe him in his owne estate. Which because of the straunge successes we had had in the King∣domes of Phrigia, Pontus & Galatia) seemed not vnlikely to him, who (but skimming any thing that came before him) was disciplined to leaue the through-handling of [ 20] all, to his gentle wife: who foorthwith caused vs to be put in prison, hauing (while we slept) depriued vs of our armes: a prison, indeede iniurious, because a prison, but els well testifying affection because in all respects as commodious, as a prison might be: and indeede so placed, as she might at all houres (not seene by ma∣ny, though she cared not much how many had seen her) come vnto vs. Then [ 25] fell she to sause her desires with threatnings, so that we were in a great perplexi∣tie, restrained to so vnworthie a bondage, and yet restrained by loue, which I (I can∣not tell how (in noble mindes, by a certain duety, claimes an answering. And how much that loue might moue vs, so much, and more that faultines of her minde re∣moued vs; her beauty being balanced by her shamelesnes. But that which did (as it [ 30] were) tie vs in captiuitie, was, that to graunt, had ben wickedly iniurious to him, that had saued our liues: and to accuse a Lady that loued vs, of her loue vnto vs, we e∣steemed almost as dishonorable: and but by one of those waies we sawe no likely∣hood of going out of that place, where the words would be iniurious to your eares, which should expres the manner of her suite: while yet many times earnestnes died [ 35] her cheekes with the colour of shamefastnes; and wanton languishing borrowed of her eyes the down-castlooke of modestie. But we in the mean time farre from louing her, and often assuring her, that we would not so recompence her hus∣bandes sauing of our liues; to such a ridiculous degree of trusting her, she had brought him, that she caused him send vs worde, that vpon our liues, we should [ 40] doo whatsoeuer she commaunded vs: good man, not knowing any other, but that all her pleasures were directed to the preseruation of his estate. But when that made vs rather pittie, then obey his folly, then fell she to seruile entreating vs, as though force could haue bene the schoole of Loue, or that an honest courage would not rather striue against, then yeeld to iniurie. All which yet could not make [ 45] vs accuse her, though it made vs almost pine away for spight, to loose any of our time in so troublesome an idlenesse.

But while we were thus full of wearinesse of what was past, and doubt of what

was to follow, Loue (that I thinke in the course of my life hath a spot sometimes to poyson me with roses, sometimes to heale me with wormewood) brought forth a remedy vnto vs: which though it helped me out of that distres, alas the cō∣clusion was such, as I must euer while I liue, think it worse then a wracke, so to haue bene preserued. This King by this Queene had a sonne of tender age, but of great [ 5] expectation, brought vp in the hope of themselues, and already acceptation of the inconstant people, as successour of his fathers crowne: wherof he was as worthy, considering his partes, as vnworthie, in respect of the wrong was thereby done against the most noble Plangus: whose great desertes now either forgotten, or vn∣gratefully remembred, all men set their sayles with the fauourable winde, which [ 10] blewe on the fortune of this young Prince, perchaunce not in their harts, but sure∣ly not in their mouths, now giuing Plangus (who some yeares before was their only champion) the poore comfort of calamitie, pittie. This youth therefore accounted Prince of that region, by name Palladius, did with vehement affection loue a yong Ladye, brought vp in his fathers court, called Zelmane, daughter to that mischie∣uouslie [ 15] vnhappie Prince Plexirtus (of whom already I haue, and sometimes must make, but neuer honorable mention) left there by her father, because of the intri∣cate changeablenes of his estate; he by the motherside being halfe brother to this Queene Andromana, and therefore the willinger committing her to her care. But as Loue (alas) doth not alwaies reflect it selfe, so fell it out that this Zelmane, [ 20] (though truely reason there was enough to loue Palladius) yet could not euer per∣swade her harte to yeelde thereunto: with that paine to Palladius, as they feele, that feele an vnloued loue. Yet louing indeed, and therefore constant, hee vsed still the intercession of diligence and faith, euer hoping, because he would not put him selfe into that hell, to be hopelesse: vntill the time of our being come, and cap∣tiued [ 25] there, brought foorth this ende, which truely deserues of me a further degree of sorrow then teares.

Such was therein my ill destinie, that this young Ladye Zelmane (like some vnwisely liberall, that more delight to giue presentes, then pay debtes) she chose (alas for the pittie) rather to bestowe her loue (so much vndeserued, as not de∣sired) [ 30] vpon me, then to recompence him, whose loue (besides many other thinges) might seeme (euen in the court of Honour) iustly to claime it of her. But so it was (alas that so it was) whereby it came to passe (that as nothing doth more natu∣rally follow his cause, then care to preserue, and benefite doth follow vnfained af∣fection) she felt with me, what I felt of my captiuitie, and streight laboured to re∣dresse [ 35] my paine, which was her paine: which she could do by no better meanes, then by vsing the helpe therein of Palladius: who (true Louer) considering what, and not why, in all her commaundements; and indeed she concealing from him her affection (which shee intituled compassion,) immediatly obeyed to imploye his vttermost credite to relieue vs: which though has great, as a beloued son with [ 40] a mother, faultye otherwise, but not hard-harted toward him, yet it could not pre∣uaile to procure vs libertie. Wherefore he sought to haue that by practise, which he could not by praier. And so being allowed often to visite vs (for indeede our re∣straints were more, or lesse, according as the ague of her passion was either in the fit or intermission) he vsed the opportunitie of a fit time thus to deliuer vs. [ 45]

The time of the marrying that Queene was euery year, by the extreme loue of her husband, and the seruiceable loue of the Courtiers, made notable by some pub∣like

honours, which did (as it were) proclaime to the worlde, how deare shee was to that people. Among other, none was either more grateful to the beholders, or more noble in it selfe, then iusts, both with sword & launce, mainteined for a seuen-night together: wherein that Nation doth so excel, both for comelines and hablenes, that [ 5] from neighbour-countries they ordinarilye come, some to striue, some to learne, some to behold.

This day it happened that diuers famous Knights came thither from the Court of Helen, Queene of Corinth, a Lady, whome fame at that time was so desirous to honor, that she borrowed all mens mouthes to ioyne with the sounde of her [ 10] Trumpet. For as her beautie hath wonne the prize from all women, that stande in degree of comparison (for as for the two sisters of Arcadia, they are far beyond all conceipte of comparison) so hath her gouernment bene such as hath bene no lesse beautifull to mens iudgementes, then her beautie to the eiesight. For be∣ing brought by right of birth, a woman, a yong woman, a faire woman, to gouern a [ 15] people, in nature mutinously proud, and alwaies before so vsed to hard gouernours, as they knew not how to obey without the sworde were drawne. Yet could she for some yeares, so carry her selfe among them, that they found cause in the delicacie of her sex, of admiration, not of contempt: & which was notable, euen in the time that many countries about her were full of wars (which for old grudges to Corinth were [ 20] thought stil would conclude there) yet so handled she the matter, that the threatens euer smarted in the threatners; she vsing so strange, and yet so well-succeding a tem∣per, that she made her people by peace, warlike; her courtiers by sports, learned; her Ladies by Loue, chast. For by cōtinuall martiall exercises without bloud, she made them perfect in that bloudy art. Her sportes were such as carried riches of Know∣ledge [ 25] vpon the stream of Delight: and such the behauiour both of her selfe and her Ladies, as builded their chastitie not vpon waiwardnes, but choice of worthines: So as it seemed, that court to haue bene the mariage place of Loue & Vertue, and that herself was a Diana apparrelled in the garmēts of Venus. And this which Fame only deliuered vnto me, (for yet I haue neuer seene her) I am the willinger to speake of to [ 30] you, who (I know) know her better, being your neer neighbor, because you may see by her example (in her self wise, and of others beloued) that neither folly is the cause of vehement loue, nor reproch the effect. For neuer (I think) was there any woman, that with more vnremoueable determination gaue her selfe to the coūcell of loue, after she had once set before her minde the worthines of your cosin Amphialus; and [ 35] yet is nether her wisedome doubted of, nor honor blemished. For (O God) what doth better become wisedome, then to discerne what is worthy the louing? what more agreable to goodnes, thē to loue it so discerned? and what to greatnes of hart, then to be constant in it once loued? But at that time, that loue of hers was not so publikely known, as the death of Philoxenus and search of Amphialus hath made [ 40] it: but then seemed to haue such leasure to send thither diuerse choise knights of her court, because they might bring her, at lest the knowledge, perchaūce the honor of, that triumph. Wherin so they behaued thēselues as for three daies they carried the prize; which being come from so far a place to disgrace her seruaunts, Palladius (who himselfe had neuer vsed armes) perswaded the Queene Andromana to be content [ 45] (for the honour sake of her court) to suffer vs two to haue our horse and armour, that he with vs might vndertake the recouerie of their lost honour: which she grā∣ted; taking our oath to goe no further then her sonne, nor euer to abandon

him. Which she did not more for sauing him, then keeping vs: and yet not satisfied with our oth, appointed a band of horsemen to haue eye, that we should not go be∣yond appointed limits. We were willing to gratifie the young Prince, who (we saw) loued vs. And so the fourth day of that exercise, we came into the field: where (I remember) the manner was, that the forenoone they should run at tilt, one after [ 5] the other: the afternoone in a broad field, in manner of a battell, till either the stran∣gers, or that countrie Knights wan the field.

The first that ran was a braue Knight, whose deuise was to come in, all chayned with a Nymph leading him: his Impresa was

Against him came forth an Iberian, whose manner of entring was, [ 10] with Bagpipes in steed of trumpets; a shepheards boy before him for a Page, and by him a dozen apparelled like shepherds for the fashion, though rich in stuffe, who caried his Launces, which though strong to giue a launcely blow indeede, yet so were they couloured with hooks neere the mourn, that they pretilye represented shephooks. His own furniture was drest ouer with wooll, so enriched with Iewels [ 15] artificially placed, that one would haue thought it a mariage betweene the lowest and the highest. His Impresa was a Sheepe marked with pitch, with this woord Spot∣ted to be knowne. And because I may tell you out his conceipt (though that were not done, till the running for that time was ended) before the Ladies departed from the windowes, among whom there was one (they say) that was the Star, whereby his [ 20] course was onely directed. The Shepherds attending vpon PHILISIDES went among them, and sang an eclogue; one of them answering another, while the other shepherds pulling out recorders (which possest the place of pipes) accorded their musicke to the others voice. The Eclogue had great praise: I onely remember sixe verses, while hauing questioned one with the other, of their fellow-shepheards so∣daine [ 25] growing a man of armes, and the cause of his so doing, they thus said.

ME thought some staues he mist: if so, not much amisse: For where he most would hit, he euer yet did misse. Once said he brake a crosse; full well it so might be: [ 30] For neuer was there man more crossely crost then he. But most cryed, O well broke: O foole full gaily blest: Where failing is a shame, and breaking is his best.

Thus I haue digrest, because his maner liked me well: But when he began to [ 35] run against LElius,, it had neere growne (though great loue had euer bene betwixt them) to a quarell. For Philisides breaking his staues with great commendation, Le∣lius (who was knowne to be second to none in the perfection of that art) ranne euer ouer his head, but so finely to the skilfull eyes, that one might wel see he shew∣ed more knowledge in missing, then others did in hitting. For with so gallant a [ 40] grace his staffe came swimming close ouer the crest of the Helmet as if he would represent the kisse, and not the stroke of Mars. But Philisides was much moued with it, while he thought Lelius would shew a contempt of his youth: till Lelius (who therefore would satisfie him, because he was his friend (made him know, that to such bondage he was for so many courses tyed by her, whose disgraces to him were [ 45] graced by her excellencye, and whose iniuries he could neuer otherwise returne, then honors.

But so by Lelius willing-missing was the oddes of the Iberian side, and continued so in the next by the excellent running of a Knight, though fostred so by the Mu∣ses, as many times the very rusticke people left both their delights and profites to harken to his songs, yet could he so well performe all armed sports, as if he had ne∣uer [ 5] had any other pen, then a Launce in his hand. He came in like a wilde man; but such a wildenes, as shewed his eye-sight had tamed him, full of withered leaues, which though they fell not, still threatned falling. His Impresa was, a mill-horse still bound to goe in one circle; with this word, Data fata sequutus. But after him the Co∣rinthian knights absolutely preuailed, especially a great noble man of Corinth, whose [ 10] deuise was to come without any deuise, all in white like a new Knight, as indeede he was; but so new, as his newnes shamed most of the others long exercise. Then another from whose tent I remember a birde was made flie, With such art to carry a written embassage among the Ladies, that one might say, If a liue bird, how so taught? if a dead bird, how so made? Then he, who hidden, man and horse in a [ 15] great figure liuely representing the Phoenix: the fire tooke so artificially, as it consu∣med the bird, and left him to rise as it were, out of the ashes thereof. Against whom was the fine frosen Knight, frosen in despaire; but his armor so naturallye represen∣ting Ice, and all his furniture so liuely answering therto, as yet did I neuer see any thing that pleased me better.

[ 20] But the delight of those pleasing sightes, haue carried me too farre into an vn∣necessary discourse. Let it then suffice (most excellent Ladye) that you know the Corinthians that morning in the exercise (as they had done the daies before) had the better; Palladius neither suffring vs, nor himself to take in hand the partie til the after noone; when we were to fight in troupes, not differing otherwise from earnest, but [ 25] that the sharpenesse of the weapons was taken away. But in the triall Pall••dius (e∣specially led by Musidorus, and somewhat aided by me) himselfe truelye behauing him selfe nothing like a beginner, brought the honor to rest it selfe that night on the Iberian side: and the next day, both morning, and after-noone being kept by our party, He (that sawe the time fitte for the deliuerie he intended, called vnto vs [ 30] to follow him; which we both bound by oth, and willing by good-will, obeyed: and so the gard not daring to interrupt vs (he commaunding passage) we went after him vpon the spur to a little house in a forrest neere by: which he thought would be the fittest resting place, till wee might goe further from his mothers fury, wher∣at he shas no lesse angry, and ashamed, then desirous to obay Zelmane.

[ 35] But his mother (as I learned since) vnderstanding by the gard her sonnes con∣uaying vs away (forgetting her greatnes, and resining modestye to more quiet thoughts (flew out from her place, and cried to be accompanied, for she her-selfe would follow vs. But what she did (being rather with vehemencie of passion, then conduct of reason) made her stumble while she ran, & by her own confusion hinder [ 40] her own desires. For so impatiently she commāded, as a good while no body knew what she cōmanded; so as we had gotten so far the start, as to be alredye past the con∣fines of her kingdome before she ouertook vs: and ouertake vs she did in the King∣dome of Bythinia, not regarding shame, or dāger of hauing entred into anothers do∣minions: but (hauing with her about a threescore hors-men) streight cōmanded to [ 45] take vs aliue, and not to regard her sonnes threatening therin: which they attemp∣ted to doo, first by speach, and then by force. But neither liking their eloquēce, nor fearing their might, we esteemed fewe swordes in a iust defence, able to resist many

vniust assaulters. And so Musidorus incredible valour (beating downe all lets) made both me, and Palladius, so good way, that we had little to doo to ouercome weake wrong.

And now had the victorie in effect without bloud, when Palladius (heated with the fight, and angrie with his mothers fault) so pursued our assaylers, that one [ 5] of them (who as I heard since had before our comming bene a speciall minion of Andromanas, and hated vs for hauing dispossest him of her hart) taking him to be one of vs, with a traiterous blow slew his young Prince: who falling downe before our eyes, whom he specially had deliuered, iudge (sweetest Lady) whether anger might not be called iustice in such a case: once, so it wrought in vs, that many of his sub∣iects [ 10] bodies we left there dead, to wait on him more faithfully to the other world.

All this while disdaine, strengthened by the furie of a furious loue, made Andro∣mana stay to the last of the combat: and whē she saw vs light down, to see what help we might doo to the helplesse Palladius, she came running madly vnto vs, then no lesse threatning, when she had no more power to hurt. But when she perceiued it [ 15] was her onely sonne that lay hurt, and that his hurt was so deadly, as that already his life had lost the vse of the reasonable, and almost sensible part; then onely did mis∣fortune lay his owne ouglinesse vpon her fault, and make her see what she had done, and to what she was come: especiallye, finding in vs rather detestation then pittie, (considering the losse of that young Prince) and resolution presentlye to departe, [ 20] which still she laboured to stay. But depriued of all comfort, with eyes full of death, she ranne to her sonnes dagger, and before we were aware of it (who else would haue stayed it) strake her selfe a mortall wound. But then her loue, though not her person, awaked pittie in vs, and I went to her, while Musidorus laboured obout Pal∣ladius. But the wound was past the cure of a better surgeon then my selfe, so as I [ 25] could but receaue some fewe of her dying words; which were cursings of her ill set affection, and wishing vnto me many crosses and mischaunces in my loue, when soeuer I should loue, wherein I feare, and only feare that her praiers is from aboue granted. But the noise of this fight, and issue thereof being blazed by the countrye people to some noble-men there-abouts, they came thither, and finding the wrong [ 30] offered vs, let vs go on our iourney, we hauing recōmended those royall bodies vn∣to them to be conueied to the King of Iberia. With that Philoclea, seeing the teares stand in his eyes with remēbrance of Palladius, but much more of that which ther∣vpon grew, she would needs drink a kisse from those eyes, and he sucke another frō her lippes; wherat she blushed, and yet kissed him again to hide her blushing, Which [ 35] had almost brought Pyrocles into another discourse, but that she with so sweete a ri∣gor forbad him, that he durst not rebell, though he found it a great warre to keepe that peace, but was faine to goe on in his storie: for so she absolutely bad him, and he durst not know how to disobey.

So (said he) parting from that place before the Sunne had much abased himselfe [ 40] of his greatest height, we sawe sitting vpon the drie sandes) which yeelded at that time a verie hotte reflection) a faire Gentlewoman, whose gesture accused her of much sorow, and euery way shewed she cared notwhat paine she put her body to, since the better parte (her minde) was laide vnder so much agonie: and so was she dulled withall, that we could come so neare, as to heare her speeches, and yet [ 45] she not perceiue the hearers of her lamentation. But wel we might vnderstand her

at times say. Thou dost kill me with thy vnkinde falshood: and, It greeues me not to die, but it greeues me that thou art the murtherer: neither doth mine own paine so much vexe me, as thy errour. For God knowes, it would not trouble me to be slain for thee, but much it torments me to be slaine by thee. Thou art vntrue, Pamphilus, [ 5] thou art vntrue, and woe is me therefore. How oft didst thou sweare vnto me, that the Sunne should loose his light, and the rocks runne vp and downe like little kiddes, before thou wouldst falsifie thy faith to me? Sunne therefore put out thy shining, and rockes runne madde for sorrow, for Pamphilus is false. But alas, the Sun keepes his light, though thy faith be darckned; the rockes stand still; though thou [ 10] change like a wethercocke. O foole that I am, that thought I could graspe water, and binde the winde. I might well haue knowen thee by others, but I would not; and rather wished to learne poison by drinking it my selfe, while my loue helped thy words to deceiue me. Wel, yet I would thou hadst made a better choise when thou didst forsake thy vnfortunate Leucippe. But it is no matter, Baccha (thy new mistres) [ 15] wil reuenge my wrongs. But do not Baccha, let Pamphilus liue happy though I dye.

And much more to such like phrase she spake, but that I (who had occasion to know some-thing of that Pamphilus) stept to comfort her: and though I could not doo that, yet I gotte thus much knowledge of her, that this being the same Leucip∣pe, to whome the vnconstant Pamphilus had betrothed himselfe, which had moued [ 20] the other Ladies to such indignation as I tolde you: neither her worthines (which in trueth was great) nor his owne suffering for her (which is woont to endeare af∣fection) could fetter his ficklenes, but that before his mariage-daye appointed, he had taken to wife that Baccha, of whome she complained; one, that in diuers pla∣ces I had heard before blazed, as the most impudently vnchaste woman of all Asia; [ 25] and withall, of such an imperiousnes therein, that she would not stick to employe them (whome she made vnhappie with her fauour) to drawe more companions of their follie: in the multitude of whome she did no lesse glorie, then a Captaine would doo, of being followed by braue Souldiers: waiwardly proud; and there∣fore bold, because extreamely faultie: and yet hauing no good thing to redeeme [ 30] both these, and other vnlouely parts, but a little beautie, disgraced with wandring eyes, and vnwaied speeches; yet had Pamphilus (for her) left Leucippe, and withal, left his faith: Leucippe, of whom one look (in a cleer iudgement) would haue bene more acceptable, then all her kindnesses so prodigallie bestowed. For my selfe, the re∣membrance of his cruell handling Dido, ioyned to this, stirred me to seeke some re∣uenge [ 35] vpon him, but that I thought, it should be a gayne to him to lose his life, be∣ing so matched: and therefore (leauing him to be punished by his owne election) we conueyed Leucippe to a house thereby, dedicated to Vestall Nunnes, where she resolued to spend all her yeares (which her youth promised should be many) in be∣wayling the wrong, and yet praying for the wrong doer.

[ 40] But the next morning, we (hauing striuen with the Sunnes earlines) were scarce∣ly beyond the prospect of the high turrets of that building, when there ouertoke vs a young Gentleman, for so he seemed to vs, but indeede (sweete Ladie) it was the faire Zelmane, Plexirtus daughter; whom vnconsulting affection (vnfortunate∣ly borne to me-wardes) had made borrowe so much of her naturall modestie, as to [ 45] leaue her more-decent rayments, and taking occasion of Andromanas tumultuous pursuing vs, had apparelled her selfe like a page, with a pitifull crueltie cutting of her golden haire, leauing nothing, but the short curles, to couer that noble heade,

but that she ware vpon it a faire head-peece, a shielde at her back, and a launce in her hand, els disarmed. Her apparell of white, wrought vpon with broken knots, her horse, faire and lustie, which she rid so, as might shew a fearefull boldnes, daring to doo that, which she knew that she knew not how to doo: and the sweetenes of her countenance did giue such a grace to what she did, that it did make hansome [ 5] the vnhansomnes, and make the eye force the minde to beleeue, that there was a praise in that vnskilfulnesse. But she straight approached me, and with fewe woords (which borrowed the help of her countenance to make themselues vnderstoode) she desired me to accept her into my seruice; telling me she was a noblemans sonne of Iberia, her name Daiphantus, who hauing seene what I had done in that court, had [ 10] stolne from her father, to follow me. I enquired the particularities of the maner of Andromanas following me, which by her I vnderstood, she hiding nothing (but her sexe) from me. And still me thought I had seen that face, but the great alteration of her fortune, made her far distant from my memorie: but liking very well the yong Gentleman, (such I tooke her to be) admitted this Daiphantus about me, who well [ 15] shewed there is no seruice like his, that serues because he loues. For though born of Princes bloud, brought vp with tēderest education, vnapt to seruice (because a wo∣man) and full of thoughts (because in a strange estate;) yet Loue enioyned such diligence, that no apprentise, no, no bondslaue could euer be by feare more readie at all commaundementes, then that yong Princesse was. How often (alas) did her [ 20] eyes say vnto me, that they loued? and yet, I not looking for such a matter) had not my conceipt open, to vnderstand them, how often would she come creeping to me, betweene gladnes to be neere me, and feare to offend me? Truely I remem∣ber, that then I meruailed to see her receiue my commandements with sighes, and yet do them with cheerefulnes: sometimes answering me in such riddles, as I then [ 25] thought a childish inexperience: but since returning to my remēbrance they haue come more cleere vnto my knowledge: and pardon me (onely deare Lady) that I vse many words: for her affection to me deserues of me an affectionate speach.

But in such sort did she serue me in that kingdom of Bythinia, for two moneths space. In which time we brought to good end, a cruell warre long maintained be∣tweene [ 30] the king of Bythinia and his brother. For my excellent cousin, and I (diuiding our selues to either side) found meanes (after some triall we had made of our selues) to get such credit with them, as we brought them to as great peace between them∣selues, as loue towards vs, for hauing made the peace. Which done, we intended to returne through the Kingdome of Galatia, towarde Thrace, to ease the care of our [ 35] father and mother, who (we were sure) first with the shipwracke; and then with the other dangers we dayly past, should haue little rest in their thoughts till they saw vs. But we were not entred into that kingdome, when by the noise of a great fight, we were guided to a pleasant valey, which like one of those Circusses, which in great cities some-where doth giue a pleasant spectacle of running horses; so of either [ 40] side stretching it selfe in a narrow length was it hemd in by wooddy hilles; as if in∣deed Nature had meant therein to make a place for beholders. And there we behelde one of the cruellest fightes betweene two Knights, that euer hath adorned the most martiall storie. So as I must confesse, a while we stood bewondred, another while delighted with the rare brauery therof; til seeing such streames of bloud, as [ 45] threatned a drowning of life, we gallopped toward them to part them. But we were preuented by a dosen armed Knights, or rather villains, who vsing this time of their

extreame feeblenesse, all together set vpon them. But common daunger brake off particular discord, so that (though with a dying weakenes) with a liuely courage they resisted, and by our help draue away, or slue those murdering attempters: a∣mong whom we hapt to take aliue the principall. But going to disarme those two [ 5] excellent Knights, we found with no lesse wonder to vs, then astonishment to themselues, that they were the two valiaunt, and indeede famous Brothers, Ty∣deus and Telenor; whose aduenture (as afterward we made that vngratious wretch confesse) had thus fallen out.

After the noble Prince Leonatus had by his fathers death succeeded in the king∣dome [ 10] of Galatia, he (forgetting all former iniuries) had receiued that naughtie Plexirtus into a streight degree of fauour, his goodnesse being as apt to be decei∣ued, as the others craft was to deceiue. Till by plaine proofe finding, that the vn∣gratefull man went about to poyson him, yet would not suffer his kindnesse to be ouercome, not by iustice it selfe: but calling him to him, vsed words to this pur∣pose. [ 15] Plexirtus (said he) this wickednesse is founde by thee. No good deedes of mine haue bene able to keepe it downe in thee. All men counsell me to take away thy life, likely to bring foorth nothing, but as daungerous, as wicked effects. But I cannot finde it in my harte, remembring what fathers sonne thou art. But since it is the violence of ambition, which perchaunce puls thee from thine owne iudge∣ment, [ 20] I will see, whether the satisfying that, may quiet the ill working of thy spi∣rites. Not farre hence is the great cittie of Trebisonde; which, with the territorie about it, aunciently pertained vnto this crowne, now vniustly possessed, and as vniustly abused by those, who haue neither title to holde it, nor vertue to rule it. To the conquest of that for thy selfe I will lende thee force, and giue thee my [ 25] right. Go therefore, and with lesse vnnaturalnesse glut thy ambition there; and that done, if it be possible, learne vertue.

Plexirtus, mingling forsworne excuses with false-meant promises, gladly embra∣ced the offer: and hastilie sending backe for those two Brothers (who at that time were with vs succouring the gratious Queene Erona) by their vertue chiefly (if not [ 30] onely) obteined the conquest of that goodly dominion. Which indeede done by them, gaue them such an authoritie, that though he raigned, they in effect ruled, most men honouring them, because they onely deserued honour; and many, thin∣king therein to please Plexirtus, considering how much he was bound vnto them: while they likewise (with •• certaine sincere boldnesse of selfe-warranting friend∣ship) [ 35] accepted all openly and plainely, thinking nothing should euer by Plexirtus be thought too much in them, since all they were, was his.

But he (who by the rules of his own mind, could construe no other end of mens doings, but selfe seking) sodenly feared what they could doo; and as sodainely suspected, what they would doo, and as sodainly hated them, as hauing both might, [ 40] and minde to doo. But dreading their power, standing so strongly in their owne valour, and others affection, he durst not take open way against them: and as hard it was to take a secrete, they being so continually followed by the best, and euery way hablest of that region: and therefore vsed this diuelish sleight (which I will tell you) not doubting (most wicked man) to turne their owne friendship toward him [ 45] to their owne destruction. He, (knowing that they well knew, there was no friend∣ship betweene him and the new King of Pontus, neuer since he succoured Leona∣tus and vs, to his ouerthrow) gaue them to vnderstand that of late there had passed

secrete defiance betweene them, to meete priuately at a place apointed. Which though not so fit a thing for men of their greatnes, yet was his honour so engaged, as he could not go backe. Yet faining to find himselfe weake by some counterfait infirmitie, the day drawing neere, he requested each of them to go in his stead; ma∣king either of thē sweare, to keepe the matter secret, euen ech from other, deliuering [ 5] the selfe same particularities to both, but that he told Tydeus, the King would meet him in a blew armour; and Telenor, that it was a black armour: and with wicked subtiltie (as if it had bene so apointed) caused Tydeus to take a black armour, and Telenor a blew; appointing them waies how to go, so as he knew they should not meet, till they came to the place appointed, where each had promised to keepe si∣lence, [ 10] lest the King should discouer it was not Plexirtus: and there in a wait had he laied these murtherers, that who ouerliued the other, should by them be dispat∣ched: he not daring trust more then those, with that enterprise, and yet thinking them too few, till themselues by themselues were weakened.

This we learned chiefly, by the chiefe of those way-beaters, after the death of [ 15] those two worthie brothers, whose loue was no lesse, then their valour: but well we might finde much thereof by their pitifull lamentation, when they knew their mismeeting, and saw each other (in despite of the Surgerie we could doo vnto them) striuing who should runne fastest to the goale of death: each bewailing the other, and more dying in the other, then in himselfe: cursing their owne hands [ 20] for doing, and their breastes for not sooner suffering: detesting their vnfortunately-spent time in hauing serued so vngratefull a Tyraunt: and accusing their folly in hauing beleeued, he could faithfully loue, who did not loue faithfulnes: wishing vs to take heed, how we placed our good will vpon any other ground, then proofe of vertue: since length of acquaintance, mutuall secrecies, nor height of benefits [ 25] could binde a sauage harte; no man being good to other, that is not good in him∣selfe. Then (while any hope was) beseeching vs to leaue the care of him that be∣sought, and onely looke to the other. But when they found by themselues, and vs, no possibilitie, they desired to be ioined; and so embracing and crauing that par∣don each of other, which they denied to themselues, they gaue vs a most sorrow∣full [ 30] spectacle of their death; leauing ••ew in the world behind them, their matches in any thing, if they had soone inough knowne the ground and limits of friend∣ship. But with wofull hartes, we caused those bodies to be conueyed to the next towne of Bythinia, where we learning thus much (as I haue tolde you) caused the wicked Historian to conclude his story, with his owne well-deserued death. [ 35]

But then (I must tell you) I found such wofull countenances in Daiphantus, that I could not but much maruaile (finding them cōtinew beyond the first assault of pittie) how the case of strangers (for further I did not conceiue) could so deepely pearce. But the truth indeed is, that partly with the shame and sorrow she tooke of her fathers faultinesse, partly with the feare, that the hate I conceiued against him, [ 40] would vtterly disgrace her in my opinion, whensoeuer I should know her, so ve∣hemētly perplexed her, that her fayre colour decaied; and dayly, & hastily grew into the very extreme working of sorowfulnes: which oft I sought to learne, and helpe. But she, as fearefull as louing, still concealed it; and so decaying still more & more, in the excellencie of her fairenesse, but that whatsoeuer weakenesse tooke away, [ 45] pitie seemed to adde: yet still she forced her selfe to waite on me, with such care and diligence, as might well shew had bene taught in no other schoole, but Loue.

While we returning againe to embarke our selues for Greece, vnderstood that the mighty Otanes (brother to Barzanes slaine by Musidorus, in the battaile of the six Princes) had entred vpon the kingdome of Pontus, partly vpon the pretences he had to the crowne, but principally, because he would reuenge vpon him (whom he [ 5] knew we loued) the losse of his brother: thincking (as indeede he had cause) that wheresoeuer we were, hearing of his extremitie, we would come to relieue him; in spite whereof he doubted not to preuaile, not onely vpon the confidence of his owne vertue and power, but especially because he had in his company two mighty Giants, sonnes to a couple whom we slue in the same realme: they hauing bene ab∣sent [ 10] at their fathers death, and now returned, willingly entered into his seruice, ha∣ting (more then he) both vs, and that King of Pontus. We therfore with all speede went thetherward, but by the way this fell out, which whensoeuer I remember without sorrow, I must forget withall, all humanitie.

Poore Daiphantus fell extreme sick, yet would needs conquere the delicacie of [ 15] her constitution, and force her selfe to waite on me: till one day going towarde Pontus, we met one, who in great hast went seeking for Tydeus and Telenor, whose death as yet was not knowne vnto the messenger; who (being their seruaunt, and knowing how deerely they loued Plexirtus) brought them word, how since their departing, Plexirtus was in present daunger of a cruell death, if by the valiantnesse [ 20] of one of the best Knightes of the world, he were not reskewed: we enquired no further of the matter (being glad he should now to his losse finde what an vn∣profitable treason it had bene vnto him, to dismember himselfe of two such friends) and so let the messenger part, not sticking to make him know his masters destruction, by the falshood of Plexirtus.

[ 25] But the griefe of that (finding a bodie alreadie brought to the last degree of weakenesse) so ouerwhelmed the little remnant of the spirits left in Daiphantus, that she fell sodainely into deadly soundings; neuer comming to her selfe, but that withall she returned to make most pittifull lamentations; most straunge vnto vs, [ 30] because we were farre from ghessing the ground thereof. But finding her sicknesse such, as began to print death in her eyes, we made all hast possible to conuey her to the next towne: but before we could lay her on a bed, both we, and she might find in herselfe, that the harbingers of ouer-hastie death, had prepared his lodging in that daintie body, which she vndoubtedly feeling, with a weake chearefulnes, [ 35] shewed comfort therein; and then desiring vs both to come neere her, and that no bodie els might be present; with pale, and yet (euen in palenes) louely lips, Now or neuer, and neuer indeed, but now is it time for me (said she) to speake: and I thanke death which giues me leaue to discouer that, the suppressing whereof per∣chance hath bene the sharpest spur, that hath hasted my race to this end. Know then my Lords, and especially you my Lord and master, Pyrocles, that your page [ 40] Daiphantus is the vnfortunat Zelmane, who for your sake caused my (as vnfortunate) louer, and cosen, Palladius, to leaue his fathers court, and consequētly, both him and my Aunt his mother, to loose their liues. For your sake my selfe haue become, of a Princesse a Page: and for your sake haue put off the apparell of a woman, and (if you iudge not more mercifully) the modestie. We were amazed at her speach, and [ 45] then had (as it were) new eies giuē vs to perceiue that which before had bene a pre∣sent strāger to our minds. For indeed, we forthwith knew it to be the face of Zelma∣ne, whō before we had knowen in the court of Iberia. And sorrow & pittie laying her

paine vpon me, I comforted her the best I could by the tendernes of good-will, pretending indeed better hope then I had of her recouery.

But she that had inward ambassadors from the tyrant that shortly would op∣presse her, No, my deere master (said she) I neither hope nor desire to liue. I know you would neuer haue loued me (and with that word she wept) nor, alas, had it [ 5] bene reason you should, considering manie wayes my vnworthines. It sufficeth me that the strange course I haue taken, shall to your remembrance, witnesse my loue: and yet this breaking of my hart, before I would discouer my paine, will make you (I hope) thinke that I was not altogether vnmodest. Thinke of me so, deare Ma∣ster, and that thought shall be my life: and with that, languishingly looking vpon [ 10] me; And I pray you (said she) euen by these dying eies of mine (which are onely sorrie to dye, because they shall lose your sight) and by these pouled lockes of mine (which while they were long, were the ornament of my sex, now in their short curles, the testimonie of my seruitude) and by the seruice I haue done you (which God knowes hath beene full of loue) thinke of me after my death with [ 15] kindnes, though ye cannot with loue. And whensoeuer ye shall make any other Ladie happie with your well placed affection, if you tell her my folly, I pray you speake of it, not with scorne, but with pittie. I assure you (deare Princesse of my life, for how could it be otherwise?) her words and her manner, with the liuely consideration of her loue, so pearced me, that, though I had diuerse griefes before, [ 20] yet me thought I neuer felt till then, how much sorow enfeebleth all resolution. For I could not chuse, but yeeld to the weakenes of abundant weeping; in trueth with such griefe, that I could willingly at that time haue chaunged liues with her.

But when she saw my teares, O God (said she) how largely am I recompenced for my losses? why then (said shee) I may take boldnesse to make some requests [ 25] vnto you. I besought her to doo, vowing the performance, though my life were the price thereof. She shewed great ioy: The first (said she) is this, that you will par∣don my father the displeasure you haue iustly conceiued against him, and for this once, succour him out of the daunger wherein he is: I hope he will amend: and I pray you, whensoeuer you remember him to be the faultie Plexirtus, remember [ 30] withall that he is Zelmanes father. The second is, that when you come once into Greece, you will take vnto your selfe this name (though vnlucky) of Daiphantus, and vouchsafe to be called by it: for so shall I be sure, you shall haue cause to remember me: and let it please your noble cousin to be called Palladius, that I doo that right to that poore Prince, that his name yet may liue vpon the earth in so excellent a per∣son: [ 35] and so betwene you, I trust sometimes your vnluckie page shall be (perhaps with a sigh) mencioned. Lastly, let me be buried here obscurely, not suffering my friends to know my fortune, till (whē you are safely returned to your own countrie) you cause my bones to be conueied thither, and laid (I beseech you) in some place, where your selfe vouchsafe sometimes to resort. Alas, small petitiōs for such a suter; [ 40] which yet she so earnestly craued, that I was faine to sweare the accomplishment. And then kissing me, and often desiring me not to condemne her of lightnesse, in mine armes she deliuered her pure soule to the purest place: leauing me as full of agonie, as kindnes, pitie, and sorow could make an honest hart. For I must confesse ••or true, that if my starres had not wholy reserued me for you, there els perhaps I [ 45] might haue loued, and (which had bene most strange) begun my loue after death: wherof let it be the lesse maruaile, because somewhat she did resemble you: though

as farre short of your perfection, as her selfe dying, was of her selfe flourishing: yet somthing there was, which (when I saw a picture of yours) brought againe her fi∣gure into my remembrance, and made my hart as apt to receiue the wounde, as the power of your beauty with vnresistable force to pearce.

[ 5] But we in wofull (and yet priuat) manner burying her, performed her comman∣dement: and then enquiring of her fathers estate, certainly learned that he was pre∣sently to be succoured, or by death to passe the neede of succour. Therefore we de∣termined to diuide our selues; I, according to my vowe, to helpe him, and Musi∣dorus toward the King of Pontus, who stood in no lesse need then immediat succour, [ 10] & euen readie to depart one from the other, there came a messenger from him, who after some enquirie found vs, giuing vs to vnderstand, that he trusting vpon vs two, had apointed the combat betweene him and vs, against Otanes, and the two Gyants. Now the day was so accorded, as it was impossible for me both to succour Plexirtus, and be there, where my honour was not only so far engaged, but (by the straunge [ 15] working of vniust fortune) I was to leaue the standing by Musidorus, whom better then my selfe I loued, to go saue him whom for iust causes I hated. But my promise giuen, and giuen to Zelmane, & to Zelmane dying, preuailed more with me, then my friendship to Musidorus: though certainely I may affirme, nothing had so great rule in my thoughts, as that. But my promise caried me the easier, because Musidorus [ 20] himselfe would not suffer me to breake it. And so with heauy mindes (more care∣full each of others successe, then of our owne) we parted; I toward the place, where I vnderstood Plexirtus was prisoner to an auncient Lord, absolutely gouerning a goodly Castle, with a large territory about it, whereof he acknowledged no other soueraigne, but himselfe: whose hate to Plexirtus, grew for a kinsman of his, whom [ 25] he malitiously had murdered, because in the time that he raigned in Galatia, he foūd him apt to practise for the restoring of his vertuous brother Leonatus. This old Knight, still thirsting for reuenge, vsed (as the way to it) a pollicie, which this occa∣sion I will tell you, prepared for him. Plexirtus in his youth had maried Zelmanes mother, who dying of that only child-birth, he a widdower, and not yet a King, [ 30] haunted the Court of Armenia; where (as he was cunning to winne fauour) he obteined great good liking of Artaxia, which he purs••ed, till (being called home by his father) he falsly got his fathers kingdome; and then neglected his former loue: till throwen out of that (by our meanes) before he was deeply rooted in it, and by and by againe placed in Trebisonde, vnderstanding that Artaxia by her bro∣thers [ 35] death was become Queen of Armenia, he was hotter then euer, in that pursuit, which being vnderstood by this olde Knight, he forged such a letter, as might be written from Artaxia, entreating his present (but very priuate) repaire thether, giuing him faithfull promise of present mariage: a thing farre from her thought, hauing faithfully, and publiquely protested, that she would neuer marrie any, but [ 40] some such Prince who would giue sure proofe, that by his meanes we were de∣stroyed. But he (no more wittie to frame, then blinde to iudge hopes) bit ha∣stely at the baite, and in priuate maner poasted toward her, but by the way he was met by this Knight, far better accompanied, who quickly laid hold of him, and condemned him to death, cruell inough, if any thing may be both cruell and iust. [ 45] For he caused him to be kept in a miserable prison, till a day appointed, at which time he would deliuer him to be deuoured by a mōstrous beast of most vgly shape, armed like a Rhinoceros, as strong as an Elephant, as fierce as a Lion, as nimble as a

Leopard, and as cruell as a Tigre: whom he hauing kept in a strong place, from the first youth of it, now thought no fitter match, then such a beastly monster with a monstrous Tyrant: proclaiming yet withall, that if any so well loued him, as to venture their liues against his beast, for him, if they ouercame, he should be saued: not caring how many they were (such confidence he had in that monsters [ 5] strength) but especially hoping to entrappe thereby the great courages of Tydeus and Telenor, whom he no lesse hated, because they had bene principall instruments of the others power.

I dare say, if Zelmane had knowen what daunger I should haue passed, she would rather haue let her father perish, then me to haue bidden that aduenture. But my [ 10] word was past, and truely, the hardnes of the enterprise, was not so much a bitte, "as a spurre vnto me; knowing well, that the iorney of high honor lies not in plaine wayes. Therefore, going thether, and taking sufficient securitie, that Plexirtus should be deliuered if I were victorious, I vndertooke the combatte: and (to make short, excellent Ladie, and not to trouble your eares with recounting a [ 15] terrible matter) so was my weakenes blessed from aboue, that without dangerous wounds I slew that monster, which hundreds durst not attempt: to so great admi∣ration of many (who from a safe place might looke on) that there was order giuen, to haue the fight, both by sculpture and picture, celebrated in most parts of Asia. And the olde noble-man so well liked me, that he loued me; onely bewayling, [ 20] my vertue had beene imployed to saue a worse monster then I killed: whom yet (according to faith giuen) he deliuered, and accompanied me to the kingdome of Pontus, whether I would needes in all speede go, to see whether it were possible for me (if perchance the day had bene delaied) to come to the combat. But that (before I came) had bene thus finished. [ 25]

The vertuous Leonatus vnderstanding two so good friends of his were to be in that danger, would perforce be one him selfe: where he did valiantly, and so did the King of Pontus. But the truth is, that both they being sore hurt, the incomparable Musidorus finished the combat by the death of both the Giants, and the taking of Otanes prisoner. To whom as he gaue his life, so he gotte a noble friend: for so he [ 30] gaue his word to be, and he is well knowen to thinke himselfe greater in being subiect to that, then in the greatnes of his principalitie.

But thither (vnderstanding of our being there) flocked great multitudes of ma∣ny great persons, and euen of Princes; especially those, whom we had made be∣holding vnto vs: as, the Kings of Phrygia, Bythinia, with those two hurte, of Pontus [ 35] and Galatia, and Otanes the prisoner, by Musidorus set free; and thither came Plexirtus of Trebisonde, and Antiphilus, then King of Lycia; with as many mo great Princes, drawen either by our reputation, or by willingnes to acknowledge themselues obliged vnto vs, for what we had done for the others. So as in those partes of the woild, I thinke, in many hundreds of yeares, there was not seene so [ 40] royall an assemblie: where nothing was let passe to doo vs the highest honors, which such persons (who might commaund both purses and inuentions) could perfourme. All from all sides bringing vnto vs right toyall presents (which we to auoide both vnkindnes, and importunitie, liberally receiued,) and not content therewith, would needes accept, as from vs, their crownes, and acknowledge to [ 45] hold them of vs: with many other excessiue honors, which would not suffer the measure of this short leisure to describe vnto you.

But we quickely aweary thereof, hasted to Greece••ward, led thither partly with the desire of our parents, but hastened principally, because I vnderstoode that Anaxius with open mouth of defamation had gone thither to seeke me, and was now come to Peloponnesus where from Court to Court he made enquyrie of me, doing yet [ 5] himselfe so noble deedes, as might hap to aucthorize an ill opinion of me. We there∣fore suffred but short delayes, desiring to take this countrey in our way, so renow∣med ouer the worlde, that no Prince coulde pretend height, nor bigger lownesse, to barre him from the sound thereof: renowmed indeede, not so much for the an∣cient prayses attributed thereunto, as for the hauing in it Argalus and Amphialus (two [ 10] knights of such rare prowes, as we desired especially to know) and yet by farre, not so much for that, as without suffering of comparison for the beautie of you and your sister, which makes all indifferent iudges, that speake thereof, account this countrie as a temple of deities. But these causes indeed mouing vs to come by this land, wee embarked our selues in the next porte, whether all those Princes (sauing Antiphilus, [ 15] who returned, as he pretended, not able to tarry longer from Erona) conueied vs. And there found we a ship most royally furnished by Plexirtus, who had made all thinges so proper (as well for our defence, as ease) that all the other Princes greatly commended him for it: who (seeming a quite altered man) had nothing but repen∣tance in his eies, friendship in his gesture, and vertue in his mouth: so that we who [ 20] had promised the sweete Zelmane to pardon him, now not onely forgaue, but began to fauour; perswading our selues with a youthfull credulitie, that pechance thinges were not so euill as wee tooke them and as it were desiring our owne memorie, that it might be so. But so were we licensed from those Princes, truely not without teares, especially of the vertuous Leonatus, who with the king of Pontus, would haue [ 25] come with vs, but that we (in respect of the ones young wife, and both their new settled kingdomes) would not suffer it. Then would they haue sent whole fleetes to to guard vs: but we, that desired to passe secretely into Greece, made them leaue that motion, when they found that more ships, then one, would be displeasing vnto vs. But so committing our selues to the vncertaine discretion of the wind, we (then de∣termining [ 30] as soone as we came to Greece, to take the names of Daiphantus & Palladius as well for our owne promise to Zelmane, as because we desired to come vnknowne into Greece) left the Asian shore full of Princely persons, who euen vpon their knees recommended our safeties to the deuotion of their chiefe desires: among whome none had bene so officious (though I dare affirme, all quite contrarie to his vnfaith∣fulnes) [ 35] as Plexirtus.

And So hauing sailed almost two daies, looking for nothing but when we might looke vpon the land, a graue m••n (whom we had seene of great trust with Plexirtus and was sent as our principall guide) came vnto vs, and with a certaine kinde man∣ner mixt with shame, & repentance, began to tel vs, that he had takē such a loue vnto [ 40] vs (cōsidering our youth & fame) that though he were a seruant & a seruant of such, trust about Plexirtus, as that he had committed vnto him euen those secretes of his hart, which abhorde all other knowledge; yet he rather chose to reueale at this time a most pernitious counsel; then by councealing it bring to ruin those, whom he could not choose but honour. So went he on, and tolde vs, that Plexirtus (in hope therby [ 45] to haue Artaxia, endowed with the great Kingdome of Armenia, to his wife) had giuen him order when we were neere Greece, to finde some opportunitie to murder vs, bidding him to take vs a sleepe, because he had seene what we could do waking.

Now sirs (said he) I would rather a thousand times loose my life, then haue my re∣membrance (while I liued) poysoned with such a mischiefe: and therefore if it were onely I, that knewe herein the Kings order, then should my disobedience be a war∣rant of your safetie. But to one more (said hee) namely the Captaine of the shippe, Plexirtus hath opened so much touching the effect of murdering you, though I think [ 5] laying the cause rather vpon old grudge, then his hope o•• Artaxia. And my selfe, (before the consideration of your excellencies had drawn loue and pittie into mind imparted it to such, as I thought fittest for such a mischiefe. Therefore, I wishe you to stand vpon your garde assuring you, that what I can doo for your safetie, you shal see (if it come to the pushe) by me perfourmed. We thanked him, as the matter in∣deed [ 10] deserued, and from that time would no more disarme our selues, nor the one "sleepe without his friendes eyes waked for him: so that it delaied the going forward of their bad enterprize, while they thought it rather chaunce, then prouidence, which made vs so behaue ourselues.

But when we came within halfe a daies sayling of the shore, so that they sawe it [ 15] was speedily, or not at all to be done. Thē (& I remember it was about the first watch in the night) came the Captaine and whispered the Councellour in the eare: But he (as it should seem) disswading him from it, the Captaine (who had bene a pyrate from his youth, and o••ten blouded in it) with a lowde voice sware, that if Plexirtus bad him, he would not sticke to kill God him selfe. And therewith cald his mates, [ 20] and in the Kings name willed them to take vs, aliue or dead; encouraging them with the spoile of vs, which he said, (and indeed was true) would yeeld many exceeding rich iewels. But the Councellour according to his promise) commanded them they should not commit such a villany, protesting that hee would stand betweene them and the Kings anger therein. Wherewith the Captaine enraged: Nay (said he) then [ 25] we must begin with this traitor him selfe: and therewith gaue him a sore blow vpon the head, who honestly did the best he could to reuenge himselfe.

But then we knew it time rather to encounter, then waite for mischiefe. And so against the Captaine wee went, who straight was enuironned with most parte of the Souldiers and Mariners. And yet the trueth is, there were some, whom [ 30] either the authoritie of the councellour, doubt of the Kinges minde, or liking of vs, made drawe their swords of our side: so that quickely it grewe a most confused fight. For the narrownesse of the place, the darkenesse of the time, and the vncer∣tainty in such a tumult how to know friends from foes, made the rage of swordes ra∣ther guide, then be guided by their maisters. For my cousin and mee, truely I thinke [ 35] wee neuer perfourmed lesse in any place, doing no other hurte, then the defence of our selues, and succouring them who came for it, draue vs too: for not dis∣cerning perfectly, who were for, or against vs, we thought it lesse euill to spare a foe, then spoile a freend. But from the highest to the lowest parte of the shippe there was no place lefte, without cryes of murdring, and murdred persons. The [ 40] Captaine I hapt a while to fight withall, but was driuen to parte with him, by hearing the crie of the Councellour, who receiued a mortall wounde, mistaken of one of his owne side. Some of the wiser would call to parley, and wish peace, but while the words of peace were in their mouthes, some of their euill auditours gaue them death for their hire. So that no man almost could conceiue hope of [ 45] liuing, but by being last aliue: and therefore euery one was willing to make him selfe roome, by dispatching almost any other: so that the great number in the ship

was reduced to exceeding few, whē of those few the most part weary of those trou∣bles leapt into the boate, which was fast to the ship: but while they that were first, were cutting of the rope that tied it, others came leaping in, so disorderly, that they drowned both the boate, and themselues.

[ 5] But while euen in that little remnant (like the children of Cadmus) we continued still to slay one an other, a fire, which (whether by the desperate malice of some, or intention to separate, or accidentally while all thinges were cast vp and downe) it should seeme had taken a good while before, but neuer heeded of vs, (who onely thought to preserue, or reuenge) now violently burst out in many places, and be∣gan [ 10] to maister the principall partes of the ship. Then necessitie made vs see, that, a common enimy sets at one a ciuill warre: for that little all we were (as if wee had bene waged by one man to quench a fire) streight went to resist that furious enimie by all art and labour: but it was to late, for already it did embrace and deuoure from the sterne, to the wast of the ship: so as labouring in vaine, we were driuen to get vp [ 15] to the prowe of the ship, by the worke of nature seeking to preserue life, as long as we could: while truely it was a straunge and ougly sight, to see so huge a fire, as it quickly grew to be, in the Sea, and in the night, as if it had come to light vs to death. And by and by it had burned off the maste, which all this while had prowdly borne the sayle (the winde, as might seeme, delighted to carrie fire & bloud in his mouth) [ 20] but now it fell ouerboord, and the fire growing neerer vs, it was not onely terrible in respect of what we were to attend, but insupportable through the heat of it.

So that we were constrained to bide it no longer, but disarming and stripping our selues, and laying our selues vpon such things, as we thought might help our swim∣ming to the lande (too far for our owne strength to beare vs) my cousin and I threw [ 25] ourselues into the Sea. But I had swomme a very little way, when I felt (by reason of a wound I had) that I should not be able to bide the trauaile, and therefore see∣ing the maste (whose tackling had bene burnt of) flote cleare from the ship, I swāme vnto it, and getting on it, I found mine owne sworde, which by chaunce, when I [ 30] threw it away (caught by a peece of canuas) had honge to the maste. I was glad, be∣cause I loued it well; but gladder, when I saw at the other end, the Captaine of the ship and of all this mischiefe; who hauing a long pike, belike had borne himselfe vp with that, till he had set him selfe vpon the mast. But when I perceiued him. Vil∣laine (said I) doost thou thinke to ouerliue so many honest men, whom thy false∣hood [ 35] hath brought to destruction? with that bestriding the mast, I gat by little and little towardes him, after such a manner as boies are wont (if euer you saw that sport) when they ride the wild mare. And he perceiuing my intention, like a fellow that had much more courage then honestie, set him selfe to resist. But I had in short space gotten within him, and (giuing him a sound blowe) sent him to feede fishes. But there my selfe remainde, vntill by pyrates I was taken vp, & among them againe [ 40] taken prisoner, and brought into Laconia.

But what (said Philoclea) became of your cousin Musidorus? Lost saide Pyrocles. Ah my Pyrocles, said Philoclea, I am glad I haue taken you. I perceiue you loue•••• doo not alwaies say truely: as though I knew not your cousin Dorus, the sheepeheard? Life of my desires (said Pyrocles) what is mine, euen to my soule is you•••• but the se∣cret [ 45] of my friend is not mine. But if you know so much, then I may t••••••ly say, he is lost, since he is no more his owne. But I perceiue, your noble sister and you are great friends, and well doth it become you so to be. But go forward 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Pyrocles, I long

to heare out till your meeting me: for there to me-ward is the best part of your sto∣rie. Ah sweet Philoclea (said Pyrocles) do you thinke I can thinke so precious leysure as this well spent in talking. Are your eyes a fit booke (thinke you) to reade a tale vpon? Is my loue quiet inough to be an historian? Deare Princesse, be gracious vn∣to me. And then he faine would haue remembred to haue forgot himselfe. But she, [ 5] with a sweetly disobeying grace, desired him that her desire (once for euer) might serue, that no spote might disgrace that loue which shortly she hoped should be to the world warrantable. Faine he would not haue heard, till shee threatned anger. And then the poore louer durst not, because he durst not. Nay I pray thee, deare Pyrocles (said she) let me haue my story. Sweet Princesse (said he) giue my thoughts [ 10] a little respite: and if it please you, since this time must so bee spoiled, yet it shall suf∣fer the lesse harme, if you vouchsafe to bestow your voice, and let mee know, how the good Queene Erona was betraied into such danger, and why Plangus sought me. For indeede, I should pitie greatly any mischance fallen to that Princesse. I will, said Philoclea smiling, so you giue me your worde, your handes shall be quiet auditours. [ 15] They shall, said he, because subiect. Then began shee to speake, but with so prettie and delightfull a maiestie, when she set her countenaunce to tell the matter, that Py∣rocles could not chuse but rebell so far, as to kisse her. She would haue puld her head away, and speake, but while she spake he kist, & it seemed he fedde vpon her words: but she gate away. How will you haue your discourse (said she) without you let my [ 20] lips alone? Hee yeelded and tooke her hand. On this (saide hee) will I reuenge my wrong: and so began to make much of that hand, when her tale, & his delight were interrupted by Miso: who taking her time, while Basilius backe was turned, came vnto them: and tolde Philoclea, she deserued she knew what, for leauing her mother, being euill at ease, to keepe companie with straungers. But Philoclea telling her, that [ 25] she was there by her fathers commandement, she went away muttering, that though her back, & her shoulders, & her necke were broken, yet as long as her tongue would wagge, it should do her errand to her mother. And so went vp to Gynecia, who was at that time miserably vexed with this manner of dreame. It seemed vnto her to bee in a place full of thornes, which so molested her, as she could neither abide standing [ 30] still, nor tread safely going forward. In this case she thought Zelmane, being vpon a faire hill, delightfull to the eye, and easie in apparance, called her thither: whither with much anguish being come, Zelmane was vanished, and she found nothing but a dead bodie like vnto her husband, which seeming at the first with a strange smel to infect her, as she was redie likewise within a while to die, the dead bodie she thought [ 35] tooke her in his armes, and said, Gynecia, leaue all; for here is thy onely rest.

With that she awaked, crying very loud, Zelmane, Zelmane. But remembring her selfe, and seeing Basilius by, (her guiltie conscience more suspecting, then being su∣spected she turned her cal, and called for Philoclea. Miso forthwith like a valiant shrew, (looking at Basilins, as though she would speake though she died for it) tolde Gynecia, [ 40] that her daughter had bene a whole houre togither in secrete talke with Zelmane: And (sayes she) for my part I coulde not be heard (your daughters are brought vp in such awe) though I tolde her of your pleasure sufficiently. Gynecia, as if shee had heard her last doome pronounced against her, with a side-looke & chaunged coun∣tenance, O my Lorde (said she) what meane you to suffer these yong folkes toge∣ther [ 45] Basilius (that aymed nothing at the marke of her suspition) smilingly tooke her in his armes, sweete wife (said he) I thanke you for your care of your childe: but

they must be youthes of other mettall, then Zelmane, that can endaunger her. O but; cryed Gynecia, and therewith she stayed: for then indeede she did suffer a right conflict, betwixt the force of loue, and rage of iealousie. Manie times was she about to satisfie the spite of her minde, and tell Basilius, how she knewe Zelmane to bee farre [ 5] otherwise then the outwarde appearance. But those many times were all put backe by the manifolde obiections of her vehement loue. Faine shee would haue barde her daughters happe, but loth she was to cut off her owne hope. But now, as if her life had bene set vppon a wager of quicke rysing, as weake as shee was, shee gat vp; though Basilius, (with a kindnesse flowing onely from the fountaine of vnkindnesse, [ 10] being indeed desirous to winne his daughter as much time as might bee) was loth to suffer it, swearing hee sawe sickenesse in her face, and therefore was loath shee should aduenture the ayre.

But the great and wretched Ladie Gynecia, possessed with those deuils of Loue and Iealousie, did rid herselfe from her tedious husbande: and taking no body with [ 15] her going toward them; O Iealousie (said she) the phrensie of wise folkes, the well-wishing spite, and vnkinde carefulnesse, the selfe-punishment for others fault, and selfe-miserie in others happinesse, the cousin of enuie, daughter of loue, and mo∣ther of hate, how couldest thou so quietly get thee a seate in the vnquiet hart of Gy∣necia, Gynecia (said she sighing) thought wise, and once vertuous? Alas it is thy bree∣ders [ 20] power which plantes thee there: it is the flaming agonie of affection, that works the chilling accesse of thy feuer, in such sort, that nature giues place; the growing of my daughter seemes the decay of my selfe; the blessings of a mother turne to the curses of a competitor; and the faire face of Philoclea, appeares more horrible in my sight, then the image of death. Then remembred she this song, which she thought [ 25] tooke a right measure of her present minde,

VVYth two strange fires of equall heate possest, The one of Loue, the other Iealousie, Both still do worke, in neither finde I rest: [ 30] For both, alas, their strengthes together tie: The one aloft doth holde, the other hie. Loue wakes the the iealous eye least thence it moues: The iealous eye, the more it lookes, it loues.

[ 35] These fires increase: in these I dayly burne: They feede on me, and with my wings do flie: My louely ioyes to dolefull ashes turne: Their flames mount vp, my powers prostrate lie: They liue in force. I quite consumed die. [ 40] One wonder yet farre passeth my conceate: The fuell small: how be the fires so great?

But her vnleasured thoughtes ran not ouer the ten first wordes; but going with a pace, not so much to fast for her bodie, as slowe for her minde, shee found them to∣gether, [ 45] who after Misos departure, had left their tale, and determined what to say to Basilius. But full abashed was poore Philoclea, (whose conscience now began to know cause of blushing) for first salutation, receyuing an eye from her mother, full of the

same disdainefull scorne, which Pallas shewed to poore Arachne, that durst contend with her for the prize of well weauing: yet did the force of loue so much rule her, that though for Zelmanes sake she did detest her, yet for Zelmanes sake shee vsed no harder words to her, then to bid her go home, and accompany her solitarie father.

Then began she to display to Zelmane the storehouse of her deadly desires, when [ 5] sodainly the confused rumor of a mutinous multitude gaue iust occasion to Zelma∣ne to breake of any such conference, (for well shee found, they were not friendly voices they heard) and to retire with as much diligence as conueniently they could towards the lodge. Yet before they coulde winne the lodge by twentie paces, they were ouertaken by an vnruly sort of clownes, and other rebels, which like a violent [ 10] floud, were caried, they themselues knewe not whether. But assoone as they came within perfect discerning these Ladies, like enraged beastes, without respect of their estates, or pitie of their sexe, they began too runne against them, as right villaines, thinking abilitie to doo hurt, to be a great aduancement: yet so many as they were, so many almost were their mindes, all knitte together only in madnes. Some cried, [ 15] Take; some, Kill; some, Saue: but euen they that cried saue, ran for companie with them that meant to kill. Euerie one commaunded, none obeyed, he onely seemed chiefe Captaine, that was most ragefull.

Zelmane (whose vertuous courage was euer awake) drew out her sword, which vpon those il-armed churls giuing as many wounds as blowes and as many deathes [ 20] almost as wounds (lightning courage, and thundering smart vpon them) kept them at a bay, while the two Ladies got themselues into the lodge: out of the which, Basi∣lius (hauing put on an armour long vntried) came to proue his authoritie among his subiects, or at lest, to aduenture his life with his deare mistresse, to whō he brought a shield, while the Ladies tremblingly attēded the issue of this dangerous aduenture. [ 25] But Zelmane made them perceiue the ods betweene an Eagle and a Kight, with such a nimble stayednes, and such an assured nimblenes, that while one was running backe feare, his fellow had her sword in his guts.

And by and by was both her harte and helpe well encreased by the comming of Dorus, who hauing beene making of hurdles for his masters sheepe, hearde the [ 30] horrible cries of this madde multitude; and hauing streight represented before the eies of his carefull loue, the perill wherein the soule of his soule might bee, hee went to Pamelas lodge, but found her in a caue hard by, with Mopsa and Dametas, who at that time would not haue opened the entrie to his father. And therefore lea∣uing them there (as in a place safe, both for being strong, and vnknowen) he ranne [ 35] as the noise guyded him. But when hee sawe his friende in such danger among them, anger and contempt (asking no counsell but of courage) made him runne a∣mong them, with no other weapon but his sheephooke, and with that ouerthrow∣ing one of the villaines, tooke away a two-hand sword from him, and withall, helpt him from euer being ashamed of loosing it. Then lifting vp his braue heade, and [ 40] f••ashing terror into their faces, he made armes and legs goe complaine to the earth, how euill their maisters had kept them. Yet the multitude still growing, and the verie killing wearying them (fearing, lest in long fight they should bee conquered with conquering) they drew back toward the lodge; but drew back in such sort, that still their terror went forwarde: like a valiant mastiffe, whom when his master pulles [ 45] backe by the taile from the beare (with whom he hath alreadie interchanged a hate∣full imbracement) though his pace be backwarde, his gesture is foreward, his teeth

and eyes threatning more in the retiring, then they did in the aduancing: so gui∣ded they themselues homeward, neuer stepping steppe backward, but that they proued themselues masters of the ground where they stept.

Yet among the rebels there was a dapper fellowe, a tayler by occupation, who [ 5] fetching his courage onelie from their going back, began to bow his knees, and ve∣ry fencer-like to draw neere to Zelmane. But as he came within her distance, turning his swerd very nicely about his crown, Basilius, with a side blow, strake off his nose. He (being a suiter to a seimsters daughter, and therefore not a little grieued for such a disgrace) stouped downe, because he had hard, that if it were fresh put to, it would [ 10] cleaue on againe. But as his hand was on the ground to bring his nose to his head, Zelmane with a blow, sent his head to his nose. That saw a butcher, a butcherlie chuffe indeed (who that day was sworn brother to him in a cup of wine) and lifted vp a great leauer, calling Zelmane all the vile names of a butcherly eloquence. But she (letting slippe the blowe of the leauer) hitte him so surely vpon the side of his [ 15] face, that she left nothing but the nether iawe, where the tongue still wagged, as wil∣ling to say more, if his masters remembrance had serued. O (said a miller that was halfe dronke) see the lucke of a good fellow, and with that word, ran with a pitch-forke at Dorus: but the nimblenes of the wine caried his head so fast, that it made it ouer-runne his feet, so that he fell withall, iust betwene the legs of Dorus: who set∣ting [ 20] his foote on his neck (though he offered two milche kine, and foure fat hogs for his life) thrust his sword quite through, from one eare to the other; which toke it very vnkindlie, to feele such newes before they heard of them, in stead of hearing, to be put to such feeling. But Dorus (leauing the miller to vomit his soule out in wine and bloud) with his two-hand sword strake off another quite by the waste, [ 25] who the night before had dreamed he was growen a couple, and (interpreting it that he should be maried) had bragd of his dreame that morning among his neigh∣bors. But that blow astonished quite a poore painter, who stood by with a pike in his hands. This painter was to counterfette the skirmish betwene the Centaures and Lapithes, and had bene very desirous to see some notable wounds, to be able the [ 30] more liuely to expresse them; and this morning (being caried by the streame of this companie) the foolish felow was euen delighted to see the effect of blowes. But this last (hapning neere him) so amazed him, that he stood stock still, while Dorus (with a turne of his sword) strake off both his hands. And so the painter returned, well skilled in wounds, but with neuer a hand to performe his skill.

[ 35] In this manner they recouered the lodge, & gaue the rebels a face of wood of the outside. But they then (though no more furious, yet more couragious whē they saw no resister) went about with pickaxe to the wall, & fire to the gate, to get themselues entrance. Then did the two Ladies mixe feare with loue, especially Philoclea, who euer caught hold of Zelmane, so (by the follie of loue) hindering the succour which [ 40] she desired. But Zelmane seeing no way of defence, nor time to deliberate (the num∣ber of t••••••e villaines still encreasing, and their madnesse still encreasing with their number) thought it onely the meanes to goe beyond their expectation with an vnused boldenesse, and with danger to auoide danger: and therefore opened a∣gaine the ••ate, and (Dorus and Basilius standing redie for her defence) she issued [ 45] againe among them. The blowes she had dealt before (though all in generall were hastie) made each of them in particular take breath, before they brought them so∣dainly ••••••er-neere her, so that she had time to get vp to the iudgement-seate

of the Prince, which (according to the guise of that countrie) was before the court gate. There she paused a while, making signe with her hand vnto them, and with∣all, speaking aloud, that she had something to say vnto them, that would please them. But she was answered awhile with nothing but shouts and cries; and some beginning to throw stones at her, not daring to approach her. But at length, a yong [ 5] farmer (who might do most among the countrie sort, and was caught in a little af∣fection towardes Zelmane) hoping by this kindenesse to haue some good of her, desired them, if they were honest men, to heare the woman speake. Fie fellowes, fie, (said he) what will all the maides in our towne say, if so many tall men shall be afraide to heare a faire wench? I sweare vnto you by no little ones, I had rather giue [ 10] my teeme of oxen, then we should shewe our selues so vnciuill wights. Besides, I tell you true, I haue heard it of old men counted wisdome, to heare much, and say little. His sententious speech so preuailed, that the most part began to listen. Then she, with such efficacie of gracefulnes, and such a quiet magnanimitie represented in her face in this vttermost perill, as the more the barbarous people looked, the [ 15] more it fixed their looks vpon her, in this sort began vnto them.

It is no small comfort vnto me (said she) hauing to speake something vnto you for your owne behoofs, to finde that I haue to deale with such a people, who shew indeed in themselues the right nature of valure, which as it leaues no violence vnat∣tempted, while the choller is nourished with resistance; so when the subiect of [ 20] their wrath, doth of it self vnloked-for offer it selfe into their hands, it makes them at lest take a pause before they determine cruelty. Now then first (before I come to the principall matter) haue I to say vnto you; that your Prince Basilius himselfe in person is within this Lodge, and was one of the three, whom a few of you went a∣bout to fight withall: (and this she said, not doubting but they knew it well inough; [ 25] but because she would haue them imagine, that the Prince might thinke that they did not know it) by him am I sent vnto you, as from a Prince to his well approoued subiects, nay as from a father to beloued children, to know what it is that hath bred iust quarrell among you, or who they be that haue any way wronged you? what it is with which you are displeased, or of which you are desirous? This he requires: [ 30] and indeed (for he knowes your faithfulnes) he commaunds you presently to set downe, and to choose among your selues some one, who may relate your griefes or demaundes vnto him.

This (being more then they hoped for from their Prince) asswaged well their furie, and many of them consented (especially the young farmer helping on, who [ 35] meant to make one of the demaunds that he might haue Zelmane for his wife) but when they began to talke of their grieues, neuer Bees made such a confused hum∣ming: the towne dwellers demanding putting downe of imposts: the country fel∣lowes laying out of commons: some would haue the Prince keepe his Co••rt in one place, some in another. All cried out to haue new councellors: but whe•••••••• should [ 40] thinke of any new, they liked them as well as any other, that they could•• member, especially they would haue the tresure so looked vnto, as that he should ••••uer need to take any more subsidies. At length they fell to direct contrarieties. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Arti∣sans, they would haue corne & wine set at a lower price, & bound to be ••pt so still: the plowmē, vine-laborers, & farmers would none of that. The countri••ē deman∣ded [ 45] that euery man might be free in the chief townes: that could not th•• Burgesses like of. The peasants would haue al the Gentlemē destroied, the Citizen•• specially

such as Cookes, Barbers, and those other that liued most on Gentlemen) would but haue them refourmed. And of ech side were like diuisiōs, one neighbourhood beginning to finde fault with another. But no confusion was greater then of parti∣cular mens likings and dislikings: one dispraising such a one, whome another prai∣sed, [ 5] and demanding such a one to be punished, whom the other would haue exal∣ted. No lesse ado was there about choosing him, who should be their spokes-man. The finer sort of Burgesses, as Marchants, Prentises, and Clothworkers, because of their riches, disdaining the baser occupations, and they because of their number as much disdaining them: all they scorning the countrimens ignorance, and the coun∣trymen [ 10] suspecting as much their cunning: So that Zelmane (finding that their vni∣ted rage was now growne, not only to a diuiding, but to a crossing one of another, and that the mislike growne among themselues did well allay the heate against her) made tokens againe vnto them (as though she tooke great care of their well doing, and were afraid of their falling out) that she would speake vnto them. They now [ 15] growne iealous one of another (the stay hauing ingendred diuision, and diuision hauing manifested their weaknes) were willing inough to heare, the most part stri∣uing to show themselues willinger then their fellowes: which Zelmane (by the ac∣quaintaunce she had had with such kinde of humors) soone perceiuing, with an angerles brauery, and an vnabashed mildnes, in this manner spake vnto them.

[ 20] An vnused thing it is, and I think not heretofore seene, ô Arcadians, that a woman should giue publike counsell to men, a stranger to the country people, and that lastly in such a presence by a priuate person, the regall throne should be possessed. But the strangenes of your action makes that vsed for vertue, which your violent necessitie imposeth. For certainely, a woman may well speake to such men, who haue for∣gotten [ 25] all manlike gouernment: a straunger may with reason instruct such subiects, that neglect due points of subiection: and is it maruaile this place is entred into by another, since your owne Prince (after thirtie yeares gouernment) dare not shew his face vnto his faithfull people? Heare therefore ô Arcadians, and be ashamed: a∣gainst whom hath this zealous rage bene stirred? whether haue bene bent these mā∣ful [ 30] weapōs of yours? In this quiet harmles lodge there be harbourd no Argians your ancient enimies, nor Laconians your now feared neighbours. Here be nether hard landlords, nor biting vsurers. Here lodge none, but such, as either you haue great cause to loue, or no cause to hate: here being none, besides your Prince, Princesse, & their childrē, but my self. Is it I then, ô Arcadians, against whom your anger is armed? [ 35] Am I the mark of your vehemēt quarell? if it be so, that innocencie shal not be a stop for furie; if it be so, that the law of hospitalitie (so long & holily obserued amōg you) may not defend a straunger fled to your armes for succour: if in fine it be so, that so many valiaunt mens courages can be enflamed to the mischiefe of one silly woman; I refuse not to make my life a sacrifice to your wrath. Exercise in me your indigna∣tion, [ 40] so it go no further, I am content to pay the great fauours I haue receiued among you, with my life, not ill deseruing I present it here vnto you, ô Arcadians, if that may satisfie you; rather then you (called ouer the world the wise and quiet Arcadians) should be so vaine, as to attempt that alone, which all the rest of your countrie will abhor; then you should shew your selues so vngratefull, as to forget the fruite of so [ 45] many yeares peaceable gouernment; or so vnnaturall, as not to haue with the holy name of your naturall Prince, any furie ouer-maistred. For such a hellish madnes (I know) did neuer enter into your harts, as to attempt any thing against his

person; which no successor, though neuer so hatefull, will euer leaue (for his owne sake) vnreuenged. Neither can your wonted valour be turned to such a basenes, as in stead of a Prince, deliuered vnto you by so many royall ancestors, to take the ty∣rannous yoke of your fellow subiect, in whome the innate meanes will bring forth rauenous couetousnes, and the newnes of his estate, suspectfull cruelty. Imagine, [ 5] what could your enimies more wish vnto you, then to see your owne estate with your owne handes vndermined? O what would your fore-fathers say, if they liued at this time, and saw their of-spring defacing such an excellent principalitie, which they with much labour and bloud so wisely haue establisht? Do you thinke them fooles, that saw you should not enioy your vines, your cattell, no not your wiues [ 10] and children, without gouernment; and that there could be no gouernment with∣out a Magistrate, and no Magistrate without obedience, and no obedience where euery one vpon his owne priuate passion, may interprete the doings of the rulers? Let your wits make your present example a lesson to you. What sweetnes (in good faith) find you in your present condition? what choise of choise finde you, if you [ 15] had lost Basilius? vnder whose ensigne would you go, if your enimies should in∣uade you? If you cannot agree vpon one to speake for you, how will you agree vpō one to fight for you? But with this feare of I cannot tell what, one is troubled, and with that passed wrong another is grieued. And I pray you did the Sunne euer bring you a fruitfull haruest, but that it was more hote then pleasant? Haue any of [ 20] you children, that be not sometimes cumbersome? Haue any of you fathers, that be not sometime weerish? What, shall we curse the Sonne, hate our childrē, or disobey our fathers? But what need I vse these words, since I see in your countenances (now vertuously settled) nothing els but loue and dutie to him, by whom for your only sakes the gouernment is embraced. For all what is done, he doth not only par∣don [ 25] you, but thanke you; iudging the action by the minds, & not the minds by the action. Your grieues, and desires, whatsoeuer, and whensoeuer you list, he will con∣sider of, and to his consideration it is reason you should refer them. So then, to con∣clude; the vncertainty of his estate made you take armes; now you see him well, with the same loue lay them downe. If now you end (as I know you will) he will [ 30] make no other account of this matter, but as of a vehement, I must confesse ouer-ve∣hement affection: the only continuance might proue a wickednes. But it is not so, I see very well, you began with zeale, and will end with reuerence.

The action Zelmane vsed, being beautified by nature and apparelled with skill, her gestures being such, that as her words did paint out her minde, so they serued [ 35] as a shadow, to make the picture more liuely and sensible, with the sweete cleernesse of her voice, rising and falling kindly as the nature of the worde, and efficacie of the matter required, altogether in such an admirable person, whose incomparable valour they had well felte, whose beautie did pearce through the thicke dulnes of their senses, gaue such a way vnto her speach through the rugged wildernesse of [ 40] their imaginations, who (besides they were striken in admiration of her, as of more then a humane creature) were coold with taking breath, and had learned doubts out of leasute, that in steed of roaring cries, there was now heard nothing, but a confused muttring, whether her saying were to be followed, betwixt feare to pur∣sue, and lothnesse to leaue: most of them could haue bene content, it had neuer [ 45] bene begun, but how to end it (each afraid of his companion,) they knew not, fin∣ding it far easier to tie then to loose knots. But Zelmane thinking it no euill way in

such mutinies, to giue the mutinous some occasion of such seruice, as they might thinke (in their owne iudgement) would counteruaile their trespasse, withall, to take the more assured possession of their mindes, which she feared might begin to wauer, Loiall Arcadians (said she) now do I offer vnto you the manifesting of your [ 5] duties: all those that haue taken armes for the Princes safetie, let them turne their backs to the gate, with their weapōs bent against such as would hurt his sacred per∣son. O weake trust of the many-headed multitude, whom inconstancie onely doth guide to wel doing: who can set confidence there, where cōpany takes away shame, and ech may lay the fault on his fellow? So said a craftie felow among them, named [ 10] Clinias, to himselfe, when he saw the word no sooner out of Zelmanes mouth, but that there were some shouts of ioy, with, God saue Basilius, and diuers of them with much iollity growne to be his guard, that but litle before ment to be his murderers.

This Clinias in his youth had bene a scholler so farre, as to learne rather words then maners, and of words rather plentie then order; and oft had vsed to be an [ 15] actor in Tragedies, where he had learned, besides a slidingnesse of language, ac∣quaintance with many passions, and to frame his face to beare the figure of them: long vsed to the eyes and eares of men, and to recken no fault, but shamefastnesse; in nature, a most notable Coward, and yet more strangely then rarely venturous in priuie practises.

[ 20] This fellowe was become of neere trust to Cecropia, Amphialus his mother, so that he was priuy to all the mischieuous deuises, wherewith she went about to ruine Basilius, and his children, for the aduauncing of her sonne: and though his e∣ducation had made him full of tongue, yet his loue to be doing, taught him in any euill to be secret; and had by his mistresse bene vsed (euer since the strange retiring [ 25] of Basilius) to whisper rumors into the peoples eares: and this time (finding great aptnes in the multitude) was one of the chiefe that set them in the vprore (though quite without the consent of Amphialus, who would not for all the Kingdoms of the world so haue aduentured the life of Philoclea.) But now perceiuing the flood of [ 30] their furie began to ebbe, he thought it policie to take the first of the tide, so that no man cried lowder then he, vpon Basilius. And some of the lustiest rebels not yet a∣greeing to the rest, he caused two or three of his mates that were at his commande∣ment to lift him vp, & then as if he had had a prologue to vtter, he began with a nice grauitie to demaund audience. But few attending what he said, with vehement ge∣sture, [ 35] as if he would teare the stars from the skies, he fell to crying out so lowde, that not onely Zelmane, but Basilius might heare him. O vnhappie men, more mad then the Giants that would haue plucked Iupiter out of heauen, how long shall this rage continue? why do you not all throw downe your weapons, and submit your selues to our good Prince, our good Basilius, the Pelops of wisdom, and Minos of all good gouernment? when will you begin to beleue me, and other honest and faithfull [ 40] subiects, that haue done all we could to stop your furie?

The farmer that loued Zelmane could abide him no longer. For as at the first he was willing to speake of conditions, hoping to haue gotten great souerainties, and among the rest Zelmane: so now perceiuing, that the people, once anything downe the hill from their furie, would neuer stay till they came to the bottom of absolute [ 45] yeelding, and so that he should be nearer feares of punishment, then hopes of such aduancement, he was one of them that stood most against the agreement: and to begin withal, disdaining this fellow should play the preacher, who had bin one of

the chiefest make-bates, strake him a great wound vpon the face with his sword. The cowardly wretch fell downe, crying for succour, and (scrambling through the legs of them that were about him) gat to the throne, where Zelmane tooke him, and comforted him, bleeding for that was past, and quaking for feare of more.

But as soone as that blow was giuen (as if AEolus had broke open the doore to let [ 5] all his winds out) no hand was idle, ech one killing him that was next, for feare he should do as much to him. For being diuided in minds and not diuided in compa∣nies, they that would yeeld to Basilius were intermingled with them that would not yeeld. These men thinking their ruine stood vpon it; those men to get fauour of their Prince, conuerted their vngracious motion into their owne bowels, and by a [ 10] true iudgement grew their owne punishers. None was sooner killed then those that had bene leaders in the disobedience: who by being so, had taught them, that they did leade disobediēce to the same leaders. And many times it fell out that they killed them that were of their owne faction, anger whetting, and doubt hastening their fingers. But then came downe Zelmane; and Basilius with Dorus issued, and [ 15] somtimes seeking to draw together those of their party, somtimes laying indifferēt∣ly among them, made such hauocke (among the rest Zelmane striking the farmer to the hart with her sword, as before she had done with her eyes) that in a while all they of the contrary side were put to flight, and fled to certaine woods vpon the frontiers; where feeding wildly, and drinking onely water, they were disciplined [ 20] for their dronken riots; many of them being slaine in the chase, about a score onely escaping. But when these late rebels, now souldiers, were returned from the chase, Basilius calling them togither, partly for policy sake, but principally because Zelma∣ne before had spoken it (which was to him more then a diuine ordinance) he pro∣nounced their generall pardon, willing them to returne to their houses, and there∣after [ 25] be more circumspect in their proceedings: which they did most of them with sharp marks of their folly. But imagining Clinias to be one of the chiefe that had bred this good alteration, he gaue him particular thanks, and withall willed him to make him know, how this frenzie had entred into the people.

Clinias purposing indeede to tell him the trueth of all, sauing what did touch [ 30] himselfe, or Cecropia, first, dipping his hand in the blood of his wound, Now by this blood (said he) which is more deare to me, then al the rest that is in my body, since it is spent for your safety: this tong (perchance vnfortunate, but neuer false) shall not now begin to lie vnto my Prince, of me most beloued. Then stretching out his hād, and making vehement countenances the vshers to his speches, in such maner of [ 35] tearms recounted this accident. Yesterday (said he) being your birth-day, in the goodly greene two mile hence before the city of Enispus, to do honour to the day, were a four or fiue thousand people (of all conditiōs, as I think) gathered together, spending al the day in dancings & other exercises: and whē night came, vnder tents and bowes making great cheare, and meaning to obserue a wassaling watch all that [ 40] night for your sake. Bacchus (the learned say) was begot with thunder: I thinke, that made him euer since so full of stur & debate. Bacchus indeed it was which sounded the first trūpet to this rude Alarū. For that barbarous opiniō being generally amōg thē, to think with vice to do honor, & with actiuitie in beastlines to shew abundāce of loue, made most of them seeke to shew the depth of their affection in the depth of [ 45] their draught. But being once wel chafed with wine (hauing spent al the night, and some peece of the morning in such reuelling) & imboldned by your absented ma∣ner

of liuing, there was no matter their eares had euer heard of that gr••w not to be a subiect of their winie conference. I speake it by proofe: for I take witnes of the Gods (who neuer leaue periuries vnpunished) that I often cried out against their im∣pudency, and (when that would not serue) stopt mine ea••es, because I woulde not [ 5] be partaker of their blasphemies, till with buffets they forced me to haue mine eares and eies defiled. Publike affairs were mingled with priuate grudges neither was any man thought of wit, that did not pretende some cause of mislike. Rayling was coun∣ted the fruite of freedome, and saying nothing had his vttermoste prayse in igno∣raunce. At the length, your sacred person (alas) why did I liue to h••are it? alas howe [ 10] do I breath to vtter it? But your commandement doth not onely enioine obedience, but giue me force: your sacred person (I say) fell to be their table-talke: a proud word swelling in their stomacks, & disdainful reproches against so great a greatnes, hauing put on the shew of greatnes in their little mindes: till at length the very vnbrideled vse of wordes hauing increased fire in their mindes (which God wott thought [ 15] their knowledge notable, because they had at all no knowledge to condemne their owne want of knowledge) they descended (O neuer to be forgotten presumption) to a direct mislike of your liuing from among them. Whereupon it were tedious to remember their far-fetched constructions. But the summe was, you disdained them: and what were the pompes of your estate, if their armes mainteyned you [ 20] not? Who woulde call you a Prince, if you had not a people? When certaine of thē of wretched estates, & worse minds (whose fortunes change could not impaire) began to say, that your gouernment was to be looked into; how the great treasures (you had leuied among them) had beene spent; why none but great men and gen∣tlemen could be admitted into counsel, that the cōmons (forsooth) were too plain [ 25] headed to say their opinnions: but yet their blood and sweat must maintaine all. Who could tell whether you were not betraied in this place, where you liued? nay whether you did liue or no? Therefore that it was time to come and see; and if you were here, to know (if Arcadia were growne lothsome in your sight) why you did [ 30] not ridde your selfe of the trouble? There woulde not want those that woulde take so faire a cumber in good parte. Since the Countrie was theirs, and the gouerne∣ment an adherent to the countrie, why should they not consider of the one as well as inhabite the other? Nay rather (said they) let vs beginne that, which all Arcadia will followe. Let vs deliuer our Prince from daunger of practises, and our selues [ 35] ••rom want of a Prince. Let vs doo that, which all the rest think. Let it be said, that we onely are not astonished with vaine titles, which haue their ••orce but in our force. Lastly, to haue saide and heard so much, was as dangerous, as to haue attemp∣ted: and to attempt they had the glorious name of liberty with them. These words being spokē (like a furious storme) presently carried away their wel inclined brains. What I, & some other of the honester sort could do, was no more thē if with a puffe [ 40] of breath, one should goe about to make a saile goe against a mightie winde: or, with one hand, stay the ruine of a mighty wall. So generall grewe this madnes a∣mong them, there needed no drumme, where each man cried, each spake to other that spake as fast to him, and the disagreeing sounde of so many voices was the chiefe token of their vnmeete agreement. Thus was their banquette turned to a [ 45] battaile, their winie mirthes to bloudie rages, and the happie praiers for your life to monstrous thre••tning of your estate; the solemnizing your birth-day, tended to haue been the cause of your funerals. But as a dronken rage hath (besides his wic∣kednes)

that follie, that the more it seekes to hurt, the lesse it considers how to bee able to hurt: they neuer wayed how to arme themselues but tooke vp euery thinge for a weapon, that furie offered to their handes. Many swordes, pikes, and billes there were: others tooke pitchforkes and rakes, conuerting husbandrie to souldierie some caught holde of spittes (thinges seruiceable for life) to bee the instruments of [ 5] death. And there was some such one, who held the same pot wherein he drank to your health, to vse it (as he coulde) to your mischiefe. Thus armed, thus gouerned forcing the vnwilling, and hartening the willing, adding furie to furie, and encre∣sing rage with running, they came headlong towarde this lodge: no man (I dare say) resolued in his owne hart, what was the vttermost he would doo when he came [ 10] hether. But as mischiefe is of such nature, that it cannot stand but with strengthning one euill by an other, and so multiplie in it selfe, till it come to the highest, and then fall with his owne weight: so to their mindes (once passed the boundes of obedi∣ence) more and more wickednes opened it selfe, so that they who first pretended to preserue you, then to reforme you, (I speak it in my conscience, and with a bleeding [ 15] hart) now thought no safetie for them, without murdering you, So as if the Goddes (who preserue you for the preseruation of Arcadia) had not shewed their miracu∣lous power, and that they had not vsed for instruments, both your owne valour (not fit to be spoken of by so meane a mouth as mine) and some (I must confesse) honest minds, (whom alas why should I mention, since what wee did, reached not to the [ 20] hundred part of our duetie?) our handes (I tremble to think of it) had destroyed all that, for which we haue cause to reioyce that we are Arcadians.

With that the fellow did wring his hands, and wrang out teares: so as Basilius, that was not the sharpest pearcer into masked minds, toke a good liking to him; and so much the more as he had tickled him with praise in the hearing of his mistres. And [ 25] therefore pitying his wound willed him to get him home, and looke well vnto it, & make the best search he could, to know if there were any further depth in this mat∣ter, for which he should be well rewarded. But before he went away, certain of the shepheards being come (for that day was appointed for their pastorals) he sent one of them to Philanax, and an other to other principall noble-men, and cities there [ 30] abouts, to make through-inquirie of this vprore, and withall, to place such garrisons in all the townes and villages neere vnto him, that he might thereafter keepe his so∣litary lodge in more security, vpon the making of a fire, or ringing of a bell, hauing them in a redines for him.

This, Clinias (hauing his eare one way when his eye was an other) had perceiued [ 35] and therefore hasted away, with mind to tell Cecropia that she was to take some spee∣die resolution, or els it were daunger those examinations would both discouer, and ruine her: and so went his way, leauing that little companie with embracements, & praising of Zelmanes excellent proceeding, to shew, that no decking sets foorth any thing so much, as affection. For as, while she stoode at the discretion of those vndis∣creete [ 40] rebelles, euery angry countenance any of them made, seemed a knife layde vpon their owne throates; so vnspeakable was now their ioy, that they sawe (besides her safetie and their owne) the same wrought, and safely wrought by her meanes, in whom they had placed al their delightes. What examples Greece coulde euer alledge of witte and fortitude, were set in the ranke of trifles, being compared [ 45] to this action.

But as they were in the midst of those vnfained ceremonies, a Gitterne, ill-played

on, accompanyed with a hoarce voice (who seemed to sing maugre the Muses, and to be merie in spite Fortune) made them looke the way of the ill-noysed song. The song was this.

[ 5] A Hatefull cure with hate to heale: A blooddy helpe with blood to saue: A foolish thing with fooles to deale: Let him be bob'd that bobs will haue. But who by meanes of wisdome hie [ 10] Hath sau'd his charge? it is euen I.

Let others deck their pride with skarres, And of their wounds make lame showes: First let them die, then passe the starres, [ 15] When rotten Fame will tell their blowes. But eye from blade, and eare from crie: Who hath sau'd all? it is euen I.

They had soone found it was Dametas, who came with no lesse lifted vp counte∣nance, [ 20] then if hee had passed ouer the bellies of all his enemies: so wise a point hee thought hee had perfourmed, in vsing the naturall strength of the caue. But ne∣uer was it his dooing to come so soone thence, till the coast were more assuredly cleare: for it was a rule with him, that after a great storme there euer fall a fewe droppes before it bee fully finished. But Pamela (who had now experienced how [ 25] much care doth sollicite a Louers harte) vsed this occasion of going to her parentes and sister, indeed aswell for that cause, as being vnquiet, till her eye might bee assu∣red how her shepheard had gone through the daunger. But Basilius with the sight of Pamela (of whom almost his heade otherwise occupied, had l••ft the wonted remembrance) was sodainly striken into a deuout kind of admiration, remembring [ 30] the oracle, which (according to the fauning humour of false hope) hee interpreted now his owne to his owne best, and with the willing blindnesse of affection (be∣cause his minde ran wholly vpon Zelmane) he thought the Gods in their oracles did principally minde her.

But as he was deepely thinking of the matter, one of the shepheardes tolde him, [ 35] that Philanax was already come with a hundred horse in his company. For hauing by chaunce rid not farre of the little desert, he had heard of this vprore, and so was come vpon the spurre (gathering a company of Gentlemen as fast as he coulde) to the succour of his Master. Basilius was glad of it; but not willing to haue him, nor a∣ny other of the Noble men, see his Mistresse) hee himselfe went out of the Lodge, [ 40] and so giuing order vnto him of placing garrisons, and examining these matters; and Philanax with humble earnestnesse beginning to entreate him to leaue of this solitarie course (which already had bene so daungerous vnto him) Well (saide Ba∣silius) it may be ere long I will condiscend vnto your desire. In the meane time, take you the best order you can to keepe me safe in my solitatinesse. But, (said he) do•• [ 45] you remember, how earnestly you wrote vnto me, that I should not bee moued by that Oracles authoritie, which brought me to this resolution? Full well Sir (answe∣red Philanax) for though it pleased you not as then to let me knowe, what the O∣racles

words were, yet all Oracles holding (in my conceipt) one degree of reputati∣on, it suffised me to knowe, it was but an Oracle, which led you from your owne course. Well (said Basilius) I will now tell you the wordes; which before I thought not good to doo; because when all the euents fall out (as some already haue done) I may charge you with your incredulitie. So he repeated them in this sorte. [ 5]

THy elder care shall from thy carefull face By princely meane be stolne, and yet not lost. Thy yonger shall with Natures blisse embrace And vncouth loue, which Nature hateth most. [ 10] Both they themselues vnto such two shall wed, Who at thy beer, as at a barre, shall plead; Why thee (a liuing man) they had made dead. In thy owne seate a forraine state shall fit. And ere that all these blowes thy head doo hit, [ 15] Thou, with thy wife, adultry shall commit.

For you forsoth (said he) whn I told you, that some supernaturall cause sent mee strange visions, which being confirmed with presagious chaunces, I had gon to Delphos, & there receiued this answere, you replied to me, that the onely supernatu∣rall [ 20] causes were the humors of my body, which bred such melancholy dreames; and that both they framed a mind ful of conceipts, apt to make presages of things, which in themselues were meerly chaunceable: and with all as I say, you remember what you wrote vnto me, touching authoritie of the Oracle: but now I haue some nota∣ble triall of the truth thereof, which hereafter I will more largly communicate vnto [ 25] you. Only now, know that the thing I most feared is alredy performed; I mean that a forraine state should possesse my throne. For that hath been done by Zelmane, but not as I feared, to my ruine, but to my preseruation. But when he had once named Zelmane, that name was as good as a pully, to make the clocke of his praises run on in such sort, that (Philanax found) was more exquisite then the onely admiration of [ 30] vertue breedeth: which his faithfull hart inwardly repining at, made him shrinke a∣way as soone as he could, to go about the other matters of importance, which Basi∣lius had enioyned vnto him.

Basilius returned into the Lodge, thus by him selfe construing the oracle, that in that hee saide, his elder care should by Princely meane bee stolne away from him, [ 35] and yet not lost, it was now perfourmed, since Zelmane had as it were robd from him the care of his first begotten childe, yet was it not lost, since in his harte the ground of it remained. That his younger should with Natures blisse embrace the loue of Zelmane, because he had so commaunded her for his sake to doo; yet shoulde it be with as much hate of Nature, for being so hatefull an opposite to the iealousie [ 40] hee thought her mother had of him. The sitting in his seate hee deemed by her al∣ready perfourmed: but that which most comforted him, was his interpretation of the adulterie, which hee thought hee shoulde commit with Zelmane, whom after∣wards he should haue to his wife. The point of his daughters marriage, because it threatned his death withall, he determined to preuent with keeping them (while he [ 45] liued) vnmaried. But hauing as hee thought, gotten thus much vnderstanding of the Oracle, hee determined for three daies after to perfourme certaine rites to A∣pollo:

and euen then began with his wife and daughters to singe this Hymne, by them yearely vsed.

APollo great, whose beames the greater world do light, [ 5] And in our little world do cleare our inward sight, Which euer shine, though hid from earth by earthly shade, Whose lights do euer liue, but in our darkenesse fade; Thou God, whose youth was deckt with spoile of Phythons skin: (So humble knowledge can throw downe the snakish sinne) [ 10] Latonas sonne, whose birth in paine and trauaile long Doth teach, to learne the good what trauailes do belong: In trauaile of our life (a short but tedious space) While brickle houreglas runnes, guide thou our panting pace: Giue vs foresightfull mindes: giue vs minds to obaye [ 15] What fore sight tels; our thoughts vpon thy knowledge staye. Let so our fruites grow vp that nature be maintainde: But so our hartes keepe downe, with vice they be not stainde. Let this assured holde our iudgemeuts ouertake, That nothing winnes the heauen, but what doth earth forsake. [ 20]

Assone as he had ended his deuotion (all the priuiledged shepheards being now come) knowing well inough he might lay all his care vpon Philanax, he was willing to sweeten the tast of this passed tumult, with some rural pastimes. For which while the shepheards prepared themselues in their best manner, Basilius tooke his daugh∣ter [ 25] Philoclea aside, and with such hast, as if his eares hunted for wordes, desired to know how she had found Zelmane. She humbly answered him, according to the a∣greement betwixt them, that thus much for her sake Zelmane was content to descend from her former resolution, as to heare him, whensoeuer he would speake; and fur∣ther then that (she said) as Zelmane had not graunted, so she nether did, nor euer [ 30] woulde desire. Basilius kist her with more then fatherly thankes, and straight (like a hard-kept warde new come to his lands) would faine haue vsed the benefite of that graunt, in laying his sicknes before his onely physition. But Zelmane (that had not yet fully determined with her selfe, how to beare her selfe toward him) made him in a few words vnderstand, that the time in respect of the company was vnfit for such [ 35] a parley, and therefore to keepe his braines the busier, letting him vnderstand what she had learned of his daughters, touching Eronas distresse (whom in her trauaile she had knowne, and bene greatly beholding to) she desired him to finish the rest, for so far as Plangus had told him; Because she said (and she said truly) she was ful of care for that Ladie, whose desart (onely except an ouer-base choise) was nothing agree∣able [ 40] to misfortune. Basilius glad that she would commaund him any thing, but more glad, that in excusing the vnfitnesse of that time, she argued an intention to graunt a fitter obeyed her in this manner.

Madam (said he) it is verie true, that since yeares enhabled mee to iudge what is, or is not to be pitied. I neuer saw any thing that more moued me to iustifie a vehe∣ment [ 45] compassion in my selfe, then the estate of that Prince, whom strong against all his owne afflictions (which yet were great, as I perceaue you haue heard) yet true and noble loue had so pulled downe, as to lie vnder sorrow for another In so much

as I coulde not temper my long idle pen in that subiect, which I perceiue you haue seene. But then to leaue that vnrepeated, which I finde my daughters haue told you It may please you to vnderstand, since it pleaseth you to demaund, that Antiphilus being crowned, and so left by the famous Princes Musidorus and Pyrocles (led thence by the challenge of Anaxius, who is now in these prouinces of Greece making a dis∣honorable [ 5] enquirie after that excellent prince Pyrocles alreadie perished) Antiphilus (I say) being crowned, and deliuered from the presence of those two, whose ver∣tues (while they were present•• good schoolmasters) suppressed his vanities, hee had not strength of mind enough in him to make long delay, of discouering what maner of man hee was. But streight like one caried vp to so hie a place, that hee looseth the [ 10] discerning of the ground ouer which he is; so was his mind lifted so far beyond the leuell of his owne discourse, that remembring onely that himselfe was in the high seate of a King, he could not perceiue that he was a king of reasonable creatures, who would quickly scorne follies, and repine at iniuries. But imagining no so true pro∣pertie of souereigntie, as to do what he listed, and to list whatsoeuer pleased his fan∣sie, [ 15] he quickly made his kingdome a Teniscourt, where his subiects should be the balles; not in truth cruelly, but licenciously abusing them, presuming so far vpon himselfe, that what he did was liked of euery bodie: nay, that his disgraces w••re fa∣uours, & all because he was a King. For in Nature not able to conceyue the boundes of great matters (suddenly borne into an vnknowne Ocean of absolute power) hee [ 20] was swayed with all (hee knew not howe) as euery winde of passions puffed him. Whereto nothing helped him better, then that poysonous sugar of flatterie: which some vsed, out of the innate basenesse of their hart, straight like dogges fawning vp∣pon the greatest; others secretely hating him, and disdayning his great rising so sud∣denly, so vndeseruedly (finding his humour) bent their exalting him onely to his [ 25] ouerthrow; like the bird that caries the shell-fish high, to breake him the easier with his fall. But his mind) being an apt matter to receaue what forme their amplifying speeches would lay vpon it) daunced so prettie a musicke to their false measure, that he thought himselfe the wysest, the woorthyest, and best beloued, that euer gaue honour to a royal tytle. And being but obscurely borne, he had found out vnblush∣ing [ 30] pedegrees, that made him not only of the blood royal, but true heyre though vn∣iustly dispossest by Eronas auncestours, & like the foolish birde, that when it so hides the heade that it sees not it selfe, thinks no bodie else sees it: so did he imagine, that no bodie knew his basenesse, while he himselfe turned his eyes from it.

Then vainenesse (a meager friend to gratefulnesse) brought him so to despise E∣rona, [ 35] as of whome he had receiued no benefit, that within halfe a yeeres mariage he began to pretend barrennesse: & making first an vnlawfull law of hauing mo wiues then one, hee still keeping Erona, vnder-hand, by messages sought Artaxia, who no lesse hating him, then louing (as vnluckie a choise) the naughtie King Plexirtus, yet to bring to passe what shee purposed, was content to train him into false hopes, [ 40] till alreadie his imagination had crowned him King of Armenia, and had made that, but the foundation of more, and more monarchies; as if fortune had only gottē eies to cherish him. In which time a great assembly of most part of all the Princes of Asia being to do honour to the neuer sufficiently praised Pyrocles & Musidorus, hee would be one not to acknowledge his obligation (which was as great as any of the others,) [ 45] but looking to haue bene yong-mastered among those great estates, as he was amōg his abusin•• vnderlings. But so many valorous Princes, in-deed farre neerer to disdain

him then otherwise, he was quickly (as standing vpon no true ground, inwardly) out of countenance with himselfe, till his seldom-comfortlesse ••latterers (perswa∣ding him, it was enuie and feare of his expected greatnes) made him hast away from that company, and without further delay appointed the meeting with Ar∣taxia; [ 5] so incredibly blinded with the ouer-bright shining of his roialty, that he could thinke such a Queene would be content to be ioined-patent with an other to haue such an husband. Poore Erona to all this obeied, either vehemency of af∣fection making her stoop to so ouerbase a seruitude, or astonished with an vnloo∣ked-for fortune, dull to any behoofefull resolution, or (as many times it falles out [ 10] euen in great harts when they can accuse none but themselues) desperatly bent to maintaine it. For so went she on in that way of her loue, that (poore Lady) to be beyond all other examples of ill-set affection, she was brought to write to Arta∣xia, that she was content; for the publike good, to be a second wife, and yeeld the first place to her: nay to extoll him, and euen woo Artaxia for him.

[ 15] But Artaxia (mortally hating them both for her brothers sake) was content to hide her hate, till she had time to shew it: and pretending that all her grudge was against the two paragons of vertue, Musidorus and Pyrocles, euen met them halfe way in excusing her brothers murder, as not being principall actors; and of the other∣side, driuen to what they did by the euer-pardonable necessitie: and so well hand∣led [ 20] the matter, as, though she promised nothing, yet Antiphilus promised himselfe all that she would haue him thinke. And so a solemne enteruiew was appointed. But (as the Poets say) Hymen had not there his saffron-coloured cote. For Artaxia laying men secretly (and easily they might be secret, since Antiphilus thought she ouerran him in loue) when he came euen readie to embrace her, shewing rather a [ 25] countenaunce of accepting then offering, they came forth, and (hauing much ad∣uauntage both in number, valure, and fore-preparation) put all his companie to the sword; but such as could flie away. As for Antiphilus she caused him and E∣rona both to be put in irons, hasting backe toward her brothers tombe, vpon which she ment to sacrifice them; making the loue of her brother stand betwene her and [ 30] all other motions of grace, from which by nature she was alienated.

But great diuersitie in them two quickly discouered it selfe for the bearing of that affliction. For Antiphilus that had no greatnesse but outward, that taken away, was readie to fall faster then calamitie could thrust him; with fruitlesse begging of life (where reason might well assure him his death was resolued) and weake be∣moning [ 35] his fortune, to giue his enemies a most pleasing musique, with manie pro∣mises, and protestations, to as little purpose, as from a little minde. But Erona sad in∣deede, yet like one rather vsed, then new fallen to sadnesse (as who had the ioyes of her hart alreadie broken) seemed rather to welcome then to shun that ende of mise∣rie, speaking little, but what she spake was for Antiphilus, remembring his guiltles∣nesse, [ 40] being at that time prisoner to Tiridates, when the valiant princes slue him: to the disgrace of men, shewing that there are women both more wise to iudge what is to be expected, and more constant to beare it when it is happened.

But her wit endeared by her youth, her affliction by her birth, and her sadnesse by her beautie, made this noble prince Plangus, who (neuer almost from his cou∣sin [ 45] Artaxia) was now present at Eronaes taking, to perceyue the shape of loueli∣nesse more perfectly in wo, then in ioyfulnesse (as in a picture which receiues greater life by the darkenesse of shadowes, then by more glittering colours) and

seeing to like; and liking to loue; and louing straight to feele the most incident effects of loue, to serue and preserue. So borne by the hastie tide of short leysure, he did hastily deliuer together his affection, and affectionate care. But she (as if he had spoken of a small matter, when he mencioned her life, to which she had not leisure to attend) desired him if he loued her, to shew it, in finding some way to saue Anti∣philus. [ 5] For her, she found the world but a wearisome stage vnto her, where she played a part against her will: and therefore besought him, not to cast his loue in so vnfruitfull a place, as could not loue it selfe: but for a testimonie of constancie, and a sutablenes to his word, to do so much comfort to her minde, as that for her sake Antiphilus were saued. He tolde me how much he argued against her tende••ing [ 10] him, who had so vngratefully betraied her, and foolishly cast away himselfe. But perceiuing she did not only bend her very good wits to speake for him against her∣selfe, but when such a cause could be allied to no reason, yet loue would needes make it-selfe a cause, and barre her rather from hearing, then yeeld that she should yeeld to such arguments: he likewise in whom the power of Loue (as they say of [ 15] spirits) was subiect to the loue in her, with griefe consented, & (though backwardly) was diligent to labor the help of Antiphilus: a man whom he not only hated, as a traitour to Erona, but enuied as a possessor of Erona. Yet Loue sware, his hart, in spite of his hart, should make him become a seruant to his riuall. And so did he, seeking all the meanes of perswading Artaxia, which the authority of so neere, and so vertuous [ 20] a kinsman could giue vnto him. But she to whom the eloquēce of hatred had giuen reuenge the face of delight, reiected all such motions; but rather the more closely imprisoning them in her chiefe citie, where she kept them with intention at the birth-day of Tiridates (which was very nere) to execute Antiphilus, and at the day of his death (which was about halfe a yeere after) to vse the same rigor towards Erona. [ 25] Plangus much grieued (because much louing) attempted the humors of the Lyci∣ans, to see, whether they would come in with forces to succor their Princesse. But there the next inheritor to the crowne (with the true play that is vsed in the game of kingdōs) had no sooner his mistres in captiuity, but he had vsurped her place, and making her odious to her people, because of the vnfit electiō she had made, had so [ 30] left no hope there: but which is worse, had sent to Artaxia, perswading the iusticing her, because that vniustice might giue his title the name of iustice. Wāting that way, Plangus practised with some deere friends of his, to saue Antiphilus out of prison, whose day because it was much neerer then Eronaes, and that he well found, she had twisted her life vpō the same threed with his, he determined first to get him out of [ 35] prison: and to that end hauing prepared all matters as well as in such case he could, where Artaxia had set many of Tiridates old seruants to haue well-marking eyes, he cōferred with Antiphilus, as (by the aucthoritie he had) he found meanes to do; and agreed with him of the time & maner, how he should by the death of some of his iaylors escape. But all being well ordered, and Plangus willinglie putting himselfe [ 40] into the greatest danger, Antiphilus (who, like a bladder, sweld redie to breake, while it was full of the winde of prosperitie, that being out, was so abiected, as apt to be trode on by euery bodie) whē it came to the point, that with some hazard, he might be in apparant likelihood to auoid the vttermost harme, his hart fainted, and (weake foole, neither hoping, nor fearing as he should) gat a conceit, that with bewraying [ 45] this practise, he might obtaine pardon: and therefore, euen a little before Plangus should haue come vnto him, opened the whole practise to him that had the

charge, with vnpittyed teares idly protesting, he had rather die by Artaxias com∣maundement, then against her will escape: yet begging life vpon any the hardest, and wretchedest conditions that she would lay vpon him. His keeper prouided ac∣cordingly, so that when Plangus came, he was like, himselfe to haue bene entrap∣ped: [ 5] but that finding (with a luckie in-sight) that it was discouered, he retired; and (calling his friendes about him) stood vpon his guard, as he had good cause. For, Artaxia (accounting him most vngratefull, considering that her brother and she, had not only preserued him against the malice of his father, but euer vsed him much liker his birth, then his fortune) sent forces to apprehend him. But he among [ 10] the martiall men had gotten so great loue, that he could not onely keep himselfe from her malice, but worke in their mindes a compassion of Eronas aduersitie.

But for the succour of Antiphilus he could get no bodie to ioyne with him, the contempt of him hauing not bene able to qualifie the hatred; so that Artaxia might easilie vpon him perfourme her will; which was (at the humble suite of all the wo∣men [ 15] of that citie) to deliuer him to their censure, who mortally hating him for hauing made a lawe of Polygamie, after many tortures, forst him to throw himselfe from a high Pyramis, which was built ouer Tiridates tombe, and so to end his false-harted life, which had planted no strong thought in him, but that he could be vnkinde.

[ 20] But Plangus well perceiuing that Artaxia staied onely for the appointed day, that the faire Eronas bodie, (consumed to ashes) should make a notorious testimo∣nie, how deepely her brothers death was engrauen in her brest, he assembled good numbers of friends, whom his vertue (though a stranger) had tied vnto him, by force to giue her libertie. Contrariwise, Artaxia, to whom Anger gaue more [ 25] courage then her sexe did feare, vsed her regall authoritie (the most she could) to suppresse that sedition, and haue her will: which (she thought) is the most princely thing that may be. But Plangus, who indeede (as all men witnes) is one of the best captaines (both for policie and valour) that are trained in the schoole of Mars, in [ 30] a conflict ouerthrew Artaxias power, though of far greater number: and there toke prisoner a base sonne of her brothers, whom she deerly affected, and then sent her word that he should run the same race of fortune (whatsoeuer it was) that E∣rona did: and happy was that threatning for her; for els Artaxia had hastened the day of her death, in respect of those tumults.

[ 35] But now (some principall noble-men of that countrie interposing themselues) it was agreed, that all persons els fullie pardoned, and all prisoners (except Erona) deliuered, she should be put into the hands of a principall nobleman, who had a castle of great strength, vpon oath, that if by the day two yeare from Tiridates death, Pyrocles and Musidorus did not in person combat, and ouercome two knights, whom [ 40] she appointed to maintain her quarrell against Erona and them, of hauing by treason destroyed her brother, that then Erona should be that same day burned to ashes: but if they came, and had the victorie, she should be deliuered; but vpon no occasion, neither freed, nor executed, till that day. And hereto of both sides, all toke solemne oath, and so the peace was concluded; they of Plangus partie forcing him to agree, though he himselfe the sooner condiscended, knowing the courtesie of those two [ 45] excellent Princes, not to refuse so noble a quarrell, and their power such, as two more (like the other two) were not able to resist. But Artaxia was more, and vpon better ground, pleased with this action; for she had euen newly receiued newes frō

Plexirtus, that vpon the sea he had caused them both to perish, and therefore she held her selfe sure of the match.

But poore Plangus knew not so much, and therefore seeing his partie (as most times it falles out in like case) hungry of any conditions of peace, accepted them; and then obteined leaue of the Lord, that indifferently kept her, to visite Erona, [ 5] whom he found full of desperate sorow, not suffering, neither his vnworthinesse, nor his wrongs, nor his death (which is the naturall conclusion of all worldly acts) either to couer with forgetfulnes, or diminish with consideration, the affection she had borne him: but euen glorying in affliction, and shunning all comfort, she see∣med to haue no delight, but in making herselfe the picture of miserie. So that [ 10] when Plangus came to her, she fell in deadlie traunces, as if in him she had seene the death of Antiphilus, because he had not succoured him: and yet (her vertue striuing) she did at one time acknowledge her selfe bound, and professe her selfe iniured; in steede of allowing the conclusion they had made, or writing to the Princes (as he wisht her to doo) crauing nothing but some speedie death to follow, [ 15] her (in spite of iust hate) beloued Antiphilus.

So that Plangus hauing nothing but a rauisht kisse from her hand at their parting, went away toward Greece, whetherward he vnderstoode the Princes were embar∣ked. But by the way it was his fortune to intercept letters, written by Artaxia to Plexirtus: wherein she signified her accepting him to her husband, whom she had [ 20] euer fauoured, so much the rather, as he had perfourmed the conditions of her ma∣riage, in bringing to their deserued end, her greatest enemies: withall, thanking the sea, in such tearmes, as he might well perceiue, it was by some treason wrought in Plexirtus shippe. Whereupon (to make more diligent search) he tooke shippe himselfe, and came into Laconia, enquiring, and by his enquirie finding, that such a [ 25] shippe was indeede with fight, and fire, perished, none (almost) escaping. But for Pyrocles and Musidorus, it was assuredly determined that they were cast away: for the name of such Princes (especially in Greece) would quickly els haue bene a large witnesse to the contrarie. Full of griefe with that, for the losse of such, who left the world poore of perfection: but more sorie for Eronas sake, who now by them [ 30] could not be relieued. A new aduertisement from Armenia ouertooke him, which multiplied the force of his anguish. It was a message from the Noble-man who had Erona in ward, giuing him to vnderstand, that since his departure, Artaxia (vsing the benefite of time) had besieged him in his castell, demaunding present deliuery of her, whom yet for his faith giuen, he would not, before the day appoin∣ted, [ 35] if possibly he could resist, which he foresaw, long he should not do for want of victuall, which he had not so wisely prouided, because he trusted vpon the gene∣rall oth taken for two yeares space: and therefore willed him to make hast to his succour, and come with no small forces; for all they that were of his side in Arme∣nia, were consumed, and Artaxia had encreased her might by mariage of Plexirtus, [ 40] who now crowned King there, stickt not to glory in the murder of Pyrocles and Mu∣sidorus, as hauing iust cause thereto, in respect of the deaths of his sister Andromana, her sonne his nephew, and his owne daughter Zelmane, all whose losse he vniustly charged them withall, and now openly stickt not to confesse, what a reuenge his wit had brought forth. Plangus much astonished herewith, bethought himselfe what to [ 45] doo. For to returne to Armenia was vaine, since his friends there were vtterly ouer∣throwne. Then thought he of going to his father; but he had already (euen since the

death of his stepmother, and brother) attempted the recouering his fauour, and all in vaine. For they, that had before ioined with Andromana to do him the wrong, thought now no life for them if he returned, and therefore kept him still (with new forged suspicions) odious to his father. So that Plangus reseruing that for a worke [ 5] of longer time, then the sauing of Erona could beare, determined to goe to the mighty and good King Euarchus: who lately hauing (to his eternall fame) fully, not onely conquered his enemies, but established good gouernment in their coun∣tries, he hoped he might haue present succour of him, both for the iustnes of the cause, & reuenge of his childrens death, by so hainous a treason murthered. There∣fore [ 10] with diligence he went to him; & by the way (passing through my country) it was my hap to find him, the most ouerthrowne man with griefe, that euer I hope to see againe. For still it seemed he had Erona at a stake before his eies; such an appre∣hension he had taken of her daunger; which in despite of all the comfort I could giue him, he poured out in such lamentations, that I was moued not to let him [ 15] passe, till he had made full declaration, which by peeces my daughters and I haue deliuered vnto you. Faine he would haue had succour of my selfe, but the course of my life being otherwise bent, I onely accompanied him with some that might safe∣ly guide him to the great Euarchus: for my part hauing had some of his speeches so feelingly in my memory, that at an idle time (as I told you) I set them downe Dia∣logue-wise, [ 20] in such manner as you haue seene. And thus, excellent Ladie, I haue obeyed you in this storie; wherein if it well please you to consider, what is the straunge power of Loue, and what is due to his authoritie, you shall exercise therein the true noblenesse of your iudgement, and doo the more right to the vnfortunate Historian. Zelmane (sighing for Eronaes sake, yet inwardly comforted in that she as∣sured [ 25] her selfe, Euarchus would not spare to take in hand the iust deliuering of her, ioyned with the iust reuenge of his childrens losse) hauing now what she desired of Basilius, to auoide his further discourses of affection, encouraged the shepheards to begin, whom she saw allready ready for them.

[ 30] The second Eclogues.

THE rude tumult of the Enispians gaue occasion to the honest shepheards to begin their Pastoralls this day with a daunce, which they called the skirmish betwixt Reason and Passion. For seuen shepheards (which were named the [ 35] reasonable shepheards) ioined themselues; foure of them making a square, and the other two going a little wide of either side, like wings for the maine battell, and the seuenth man formost, like the forlorne hope, to begin the skirmish. In like order came out the seuen appassionated shepheards, all keeping the pase of their foot by their voice, and sundry consorted instruments they held in their armes. And first, [ 40] the formost of the Reasonable side began to sing:

R.

Thou Rebell vile, come, to thy master yeeld.

And the other that met with him answered:

P.

No, Tyrant, no: mine, mine shall be the field,

[ 45] Reason.

Can Reason then a Tyraunt counted bee?

Passion.

If Reason will, that Passions be not free.

R.

But Reason will, that Reason gouerne most.

P.

And Passion will, that Passion rule the rost.

R.

Your will is will, but Reason reason is.

P.

Will hath his will, when Reasons will doth misse.

R.

Whome Passion leades vnto his death is bent.

P.

And let him die, so that he die content. [ 5]

R.

By nature you to Reason faith haue sworne.

P.

Not so, but fellow-like togither borne.

R.

Who Passion doth ensue, liues in annoy.

P.

Who Passion doth forsake, liues void of ioy.

R.

Passion is blinde, and treades an vnknowne trace. [ 10]

P.

Reason hath eyes to see his owne ill case.

Then as they approched nearer, the two of Reasons side, as if they shot at the other, thus sang:

R.

Dare Passions then abide in Reasons light? [ 15]

P.

And is not Reason dimme with Passions might?

R.

O foolish thing, which glory doth destroy.

P.

O glorious title of a foolish toy.

R.

Weakenes you are, dare you with our strength fight?

P.

Because our weaknes weakeneth all your might. [ 20]

R.

O sacred Reason, helpe our vertuous toiles.

P.

O Passion, passe on feeble Reasons spoiles.

R.

We with our selues abide a daily strife.

P.

We gladly vse the sweetnesse of our life.

R.

But yet our strife sure peace in end doth breede. [ 25]

P.

We now haue peace, your peace we doo not neede.

Then did the two square battailes meete, and in steed of fighting embrace one another, singing thus:

R.

We are too strong: but Reason seekes no blood. [ 30]

P.

Who be too weake, do feigne they be too good.

R.

Though we cannot orecome, our cause is iust.

P.

Let vs orecome, and let vs be vniust.

R.

Yet Passions yeeld at length to Reasons stroke.

P.

What shall we winne by taking Reasons yoke. [ 35]

R.

The ioyes you haue shall be made permanent.

P.

But so we shall with griefe learne to repent.

R.

Repent in deed, but that shall be your blisse.

P.

How know we that, since present ioyes we misse?

R.

You know it not: of Reason therefore know it. [ 40]

P.

No Reason yet had euer skill to show it.

R.

Then let vs both to heauenly rules giue place.

P.

Which Passions kill, and Reason do deface.

Then embraced they one another, and came to the King, who framed his pray∣ses [ 45] of them according to Zelmanes liking; whose vnrestrained parts, the mind & eie

had their free course to the delicate Philoclea, whose looke was not short in well re∣quiting it, although shee knew it was a hatefull sight to her iealouse mother. But Dicus (that had in this time taken a great liking of Dorus, for the good partes he foūd aboue his age in him) had a delight to taste the fruites of his wit, though in a subiect [ 5] which he himselfe most of all other despised: & so entred to speach with him in the manner of this following Eclogue.

Dicus. Dorus.

[ 10] Dicus.

Dorus, tell me, where is thy wonted motion, To make these woods resound thy lamentation? Thy sainte is dead, or dead is thy deuotion, For who doth holde his loue in estimation, To witnes that he thinkes his thoughts delicious, [ 15] Thinks to make each thing badge of his sweet passion.

Dorus.

But what doth make thee Dicus so suspicious Of my due faith, which needs must be immutable? Who others vertue doubt, themselues are vicious, [ 20] Not so; although my mettals were most mutable, Her beames haue wrought therein most faire impression, To such a force some chaunge were nothing sutable.

Dicus.

The harte well set doth neuer shunne confession: [ 25] If noble be thy bandes, make them notorious: Silence doth seeme the maske of base oppression. Who glories in his loue, doth make Loue glorious: But who doth feare, or bideth muet wilfully, Shewes, guilty harte doth deeme his state opprobrious. [ 30] Thou then, that fram'st both wordes and voice most skilfully, Yeeld to our eares a sweet and sound relation, If Loue tooke thee by force, or caught thee guilefully.

Dorus.

If sunnie beames shame heau'nly habitation, [ 35] If three-leau'd grasse seeme to the sheepe vnsauorie, Then base and sowre is Loues most high vocation. Or if sheepes cries can helpe the Sunnes owne brauerie, Then may I hope, my pipe may haue abilitie, To helpe her praise, who decks me in her slauerie, [ 40] No, no: no words ennoble selfe nobilitie, As for your doubts, her voice was it deceaued me, Her eye the force beyond all possibilitie.

Dicus.

Thy words well voyc'd, well grac'de had almost heaued me, [ 45] Quite from my selfe to loue Loues contemplation; Till of these thoughts thy sodaine ende bereaued me, Goe on therefore, and tell vs by what fashion

In thy owne proofe he gets so straunge possession, And how possest he strengthens his invasion.

Dorus.

Sight is his roote, in thought is his progression, His child hood wonder, prentizeship attention, [ 5] His youth delight, his age the soules oppression Doubt is his sleepe, he waketh in inuention, Fancie his foode, his clothing is of carefulnes; Beautie his booke, his play louers dissention: His eyes are ••urious search, but vailde with warefulnesse: [ 10] His wings desire oft clipt with desperation. Largesse his hands could neuer skill of sparefulnesse But how he doth by might, or by perswasion To conquere, and his conquest how to ratifie, Experience doubts, and schooles hold disputation. [ 15]

Dicus.

But so thy sheepe may thy good wishes satisfie With large encrease, and wooll of fine perfection, So she thy loue, her eyes thy eyes may gratifie; As thou wilt giue our soules a deare refection, [ 20] By telling how she was, how now she framed is To helpe, or hurt in thee her owne infection.

Dorus.

Blest be the name, wherewith my mistres named is: Whose wounds are salues, whose yokes please more then pleasure doth [ 25] Her staines are beames; vertue the fault she blamed is, The hart, eye, eare here onely find his treasure doth. All numbring artes her endlesse graces number not: Time, place, life•• witt, scarcely her rare gifts measure doth. Is she in rage? so is the Sunne in sommer hot, [ 30] Yet haruest brings. Doth she, alas! absent her selfe? The Sunne is hid; his kindly shadows cumber not. But when to giue some grace she doth content herselfe, O then it shines, then are the heau'ns distributed, And Venus seemes, to make vp her, she spent herselfe. [ 35] Thus then (I say) my mischiefes haue contributed A greater good by her diuine reflection, My harmes to me, my blisse to her attributed. Thus she is fram'd: her eyes are my direction, Her loue my life, her anger my distruction, [ 40] Lastly what so she is, that's my protection.

Dicus.

Thy safetie sure is wrapped in destruction, For that construction thine owne wordes do beare. A man to feare a womans moodie eye, [ 45] Makes Reason lie a slaue to seruile sense, A weake defence where weaknes is thy force:

So is remorse in follie dearly bought.

Dorus.

If I had thought to heare blasphemous wordes, My brest to swords, my soule to hell haue solde [ 5] I rather would, then thus mine eares defile With words so vile, which viler breath doth breed. O heards take heed; for I a woolfe haue found, Who hunting round the strongest for to kill, His breast doth fill with earth of others woe, [ 10] And loden so pulls downe, pull'd downe destroyes. O sheepheards boyes, eschue these tongues of venome, Which do enuenome both the soule and senses. Our best defenses are to flie these adders. O tongues like ladders made to clime dishonour, [ 15] Who iudge that honour, which hath scope to slander!

Dicus.

Dorus you wander farre in great reproches, So Loue encroches on your charmed reason, But it is season for to end our singing. [ 20] Such anger (bringing: as for me, my fancie In sicke-mans frenzie rather takes compassion, Then rage for rage: rather my wish I send to thee, Thou soone may haue some helpe, or change of passion, She oft her lookes, the starres her fauour bend to thee, [ 25] Fortune store, Nature health, Loue grant perswasion. A quiet mind none but thy selfe can lend to thee, Thus I commend to thee all our former Loue.

[ 30] Dorus••

Well do I proue, errour lies oft in zeale, Yet it is seale, though errour, of true hart. Nought could impart such heates to friendly mind, But for to find thy words did her disgrace, Whose onely face the little heauen is, [ 35] Which who doth misse his eyes are but delusions, Barr'd from their chiefest obiect of delightefulnesse Throwne on this earth the Chaos of confusions; As for thy wish, to my enraged spitefulnesse The louely blow, with rare reward, my prayer is Thou mayst loue her that I may see thy sightfulnesse. [ 40] The quiet mind (whereof my selfe empairer is, As thou doest thinke) should most of all disquiet me Without her loue, then any mind who fairer is, Her onely cure from surfet woes can diet me: She holdes the ballance of my contentation: [ 45] H••r cleared eyes, nought els, in stormes can quiet me, Nay rather then my ease discontentation Should breed to her•• let me for aye deiected be

From any ioy, which might her griefe occasion. With so sweet plagues my happie harmes infected be: Paine willes me die•• yet will of death I mortifie: For though life irkes, in life my loues protected be, Thus for each change my changelesse hart I fortifie. [ 5]

When they had ended to the good pleasing of the assistants, especiallie of Zelma∣ne, who neuer forgat to giue due cōmendatiōs to her friend Dorus, Basilius called for Lamon to end his discourse of Strephon & Klaius, wherwith the other day he marked Zelmane to haue bene exceedingly delighted. But him sicknes had staied from that [ 10] assemblie•• which gaue occasion to Histor and Damon two yonge shepheards, taking vpō them the two frendly riualles names, to present Basilius with some other of their complaints Ecloge-wise, and first with this double Sestine.

Strephon. Klaius. [ 15]

Strephon.

Yee Goteheard Gods, that loue the grassie mountaines, Ye nymphes that haunt the springs in pleasant vallies, Ye Satyrs ioyde with free and quiet forrests, Vouchsafe your silent eares to plaining musique, [ 20] Which to my woes giue still an early morning. And drawes the dolor on till weary euening.

Klaius.

O Mercurie, foregoer to the euening, O heauenly huntresse, of the sauage mountaines, [ 25] O louelie starre, entit'led of the morning, While that my voice doth fill these woefull vallies, Vouchsafe your silent eares to plaining musique, Which oft hath Echo tir'de in secrete forrests.

[ 30]

Strephon.

I that was once free burges of the forrests, Where shade from Sunne, and sports I sought at euening, I that was once esteem'd for pleasant, musique, Am banisht now among the monstrous mountaines Of huge despaire, and foule afflictions vallies, [ 35] Am growne a shrich owle to my selfe each morning.

Klaius.

I that was once delighted euery morning, Hunting the wilde inhabiters of forrests, I that was once the musique of these vallies, [ 40] So darkened am, that all my day is euening, Hart broken so, that molehilles seeme high mountaines, And fill the vales with cries in steed of musique.

Strephon.

Long since alas, my deadly swannish musique [ 45] Hath made it selfe a crier of the morning, And hath with wailing strength clim'd highest mountaines:

Long since my thoughts more desert be then ••orrests: Long since I see my ioyes come to their euening, And state throwne downe to ouertroden vallies.

[ 5] Klaius.

Long since the happie dwellers of these vallies, Haue praide me leaue my ••trange exclaming musique, Which troubles their dayes worke, & ioyes of euening, Long since I hate the night, more hate the morning: Long since my thoughts cha••e me like beasts in forrests, [ 10] And make me wish my selfe layd vnder mountaines.

Strephon.

Me seemes I see the high and stately mountaines, Transforme themselues to lowe deiected vallies: Me seemes I heare in these ill changed forrests, [ 15] The Nightingales doo le••rne of Owles their musique: Me seemes I feele the comfort of the morning Turnde to the mortall serene of an euening.

Klaius.

Me seemes I see a filthy clowdie euening, [ 20] As soone as Sunne begins to clime the mountaines: Me seemes I feele a noysome sent, the morning When I doo smell the flowers of these vallies: Me seemes I heare, when I doo heare sweete musique, The dreadfull cries of murdred men in forrests.

[ 25]

Strephon.

I wish to fire the trees of all these forrests, I giue the Sunne a last farewell each euening, I curse the fidling finders out of musicke: With enuie I doo hate the loftie mountaines; [ 30] And with dispite despise the humble vallies: I doo detest night, euening, day, and morning.

Klaius.

Curse to my selfe my praier is, the morning; My fire is more then can be made with forrests; [ 35] My state more base, then are the basest vallies: I wish, no euenings more to see, each euening; Shamed I hate my selfe in sight of mountaines, And stoppe mine eares, lest I grow mad with musicke.

[ 40] Strephon.

For she whose parts maintainde a perfect musique Whose beautie shin'de more then the blushing morning, Who much did passe in state the stately mountaines, In streightnes past the Cedars of the forrests, Hath cast me wretch into eternall euening, [ 45] By taking her two Sunnes from these darke vallies.

Klaius.

For she, to whom compar'd, the Alpes are vallies,

She, whose lest word brings from the spheares their musique, At whose approche the Sunne rose in the euening, Who where she went bare in her forhead morning, Is gone, is gone, from these our spoyled forrests, Turning to desarts our best pastur'de mountaines. [ 5]

Strephon.

These mountaines witnesse shall, so shall these vallies, These forrests eke, made wretched by our musique,

Klaius.

Our morning hymne is this, and song at euening.

[ 10]

But, as though all this had bene but the taking of a taste of their wailings, Strephon againe begā this Dizaine, which was answered vnto him in that kind of verse which is called the crowne.

Strephon. Klaius. [ 15]

Strephon.

I Ioy in griefe, and doo detest all ioyes: Despise delight am tyr'd with thought of ease: I turne my minde to all formes of annoyes, And with the chaunge of them my fancie please, [ 20] I studie that which may me most displease, And in despite of that displeasures might, Embrace that most, that most my soule destroyes. Blinded with beames, fell darkenes is my sight: Dwell in my ruines, feede with sucking smarte [ 25] I thinke from me, not from my woes to parte.

Klaius.

I thinke from me, not from my woes to parte, And loth this time, call'd life, nay thinke, that life Nature to me for torment did emparte; [ 30] Thinke, my harde haps haue blunted deaths sharpe knife, Not sparing me, in whom his workes be rife: And thinking this, thinke nature, life, and death Place Sorrowes triumph on my conquerd harte, Whereto I yeeld, and seeke none other breath, [ 35] But from the sent of some infectious graue: Nor of my fortune ought, but mischieue craue,

Strephon.

Nor of my fortune ought but mischieue craue, And seeke to nourish that, which now containes [ 40] All what I am: if I my selfe will saue, Then must I saue, what in me chiefely raignes, Which is the hatefull web of sorrowes paines. Sorrow, then cherish me, for I am sorrow: No being now, but sorrowe I can haue: [ 45] Then decke me as thine owne; thy helpe I borrowe, Since thou my riches art, and that thou haste

Enough to make a fertill minde lie waste.

Klaius.

Enough to make a fertill minde lie waste, Is that huge storme, which powres it selfe on me: [ 5] Hailestones of teares, of sighes a monstrous blast, Thunders of cries; lightnings my wilde lookes be, The darkned heau'n my soule, which nought can see. The flying sprites which trees by rootes vp teare, Be those despaires, which haue my hopes quite wast. [ 10] The difference is; all folkes those stormes forbeare•• But I cannot; who then my selfe should flie. So close vnto my selfe my wrackes doo lie.

Strephon.

So close vnto my selfe my wrackes doo lie, [ 15] Both cause, effect, beginning, and the ende Are all in me: what helpe then can I trie? My ship, my selfe, whose course to loue doth bende, Sore beaten doth her mast of comfort spend: Her cable, Reason, breakes from anchor, Hope: [ 20] Fancie, her tackling, torne away doth flie: Ruine, the winde, hath blowne her from her scope: Brused with waues of Cares, but broken is On rocke, Despaire, the buriall of my blisse.

[ 25] Klaius.

On rocke, Despaire, the buriall of my blisse, I long do•• plowe with plough of deepe desire: The seed Fast meaning is, no truth to misse: I harow it with Thoughts, which all conspire Fauour to make my chiefe and onely hire. [ 30] But, woe is me, the yeare is gone about, And now I faine would reape, I reape but this Hatefully growne, Absence new sprongen out. So that I see, although my sight empaire, Vaine is their paine, who labour in despaire.

[ 35]

Strephon.

Vaine is their paine, who labour in despaire. For so did I, when with my angle Will, I sought to catch the fish Torpedo faire. Eu'n then Despaire did Hope already kill•• [ 40] Yet fancie would perforce employ his skill, And this hath got; the catcher now is caught, Lamde with the angle, which it selfe did beare, And vnto death, quite drownde in dolours, brough•• To death, as then disguisd in her faire face. [ 45] Thus, Thus alas, I had my losse in chase.

Klaius.

Thus, Thus alas, I had my losse in chase, When first that crowned Basiliske I knewe, Wose footesteps I with kisses oft did trace, Till by such hap, as I must euer rue, Mine eyes did light vpon her shining hue, [ 5] And hers on me, astonisht with that sight. Since then my hart did loose his wonted place, Infected so with her sweet poysons might, That, leauing me for dead, to her it went: But ah her flight hath my dead reliques spent. [ 10]

Strephon.

But ah her flight hath my dead reliques spent, Her flight from me, from me, though dead to me, Yet liuing still in her, while her beames lent Such vitall sparke, that her mine eyes might see. [ 15] But now those liuing lights absented be, Full dead before, I now to dust shall fall, But that eternall paines my soule haue hent, And keepe it still within this body thrall: That thus I must, while in this death I dwell, [ 20] In earthly fetters feele a lasting hell.

Klaius.

In earthly fetters feele a lasting hell Alas I doo; from which to finde release, I would the earth, I would the heauens sell. [ 25] But vaine it is to thinke these paines should cease, Where life is death, and death cannot breed peace. O faire, ô onely faire, from thee alas, These foule, most foule, desastres to me fell; Since thou from me (o me) ô Sunne didst passe. [ 30] Therefore esteeming all good blessings toyes I ioy in griefe, and doo detest all ioyes.

Strephon.

I ioy in griefe, and doo detest all ioyes But now an ende, (O Claius) now an ende: [ 35] For euen the hearbes our hatefull musique stroyes, And from our burning breath the trees do bende.

So well were these wailefull complaints accorded to the passions of all the princely hearers, while euery one made what he heard of another the ballance [ 40] of his owne fortune, that they stood a long while striken in a sad and silent consideration of them. Which the olde Geron no more marking then condem∣ning in them, desirous to set foorth what counsailes the wisedome of age had layde vp in store against such fancies (as he thought) follies of youth (yet so as it might not apeare that his wordes respected them) bending himselfe to [ 45] a young shepheard named Philisides, (who neither had daunced nor song with them, and had all this time layne vpon the ground at the foote of a Cypresse tree,

leaning vpon his elbowe with so deepe a melancoly that his sences caried to his minde no delight from any of their obiects) he strake him vpon the shoulder, with a right old mans grace, that will seeme liuelier then his age will afford him, And thus began vnto him his Ecloge.

[ 5]

Geron. Philisides.

Geron.

VP, vp Philisides, let sorrowes goe, Who yelds to woe, doth but encrease his smart. [ 10] Do not thy hart, to plaintfull custome bring, But let vs sing, sweet tunes do passions ease, An olde man heare, who would thy fancies raise.

Philisides.

Who minds to please the minde drownd in annoyes [ 15] With outward ioyes, which inly cannot sincke, As well may thincke with oyle to coole the fire: Or with desire to make such foe a frend, Who doth his soule to endlesse malice bend.

[ 20] Geron.

Yet sure an end, to each thing time doth giue, Though woes now liue, at length thy woes must dye. Then vertue try, if she can worke in thee That which we see in many time hath wrought, And weakest harts to constant temper brought.

[ 25]

Philisides.

Who euer taught a skillesse man to teach, Or stop a breach, that neuer Cannon sawe? Sweet vertues lawe barres not a causefull mone. Time shall in one my life and sorrowes end, [ 30] And me perchaunce your constant temper lend.

Geron.

What can amend where physick is refusde? The witts abusde with will no counsayle take. Yet for my sake discouer vs thy griefe. [ 35] Oft comes reliefe when most we seeme in trappe. The starres thy state, fortune may change thy happe.

Philisides.

If fortunes lappe became my dwelling place, And all the starres conspired to my good, [ 40] Still were I one, this still should be my case, Ruines relique, cares web, and sorrowes foode: Since she faire fierce to such a state me calls, Whose wit the starres, whose fortune fortune thralls.

[ 45] Geron.

Alas what falls are falne vnto thy minde? That there where thou confest thy mischiefe lyes Thy wit dost vse still still more harmes to finde.

Whome wit makes vaine, or blinded with his eyes, What counsell can preuaile, or light giue light? Since all his force against himselfe he tries. Then each conceit that enters in his sight, Is made, forsooth, a Iurate of his woes, [ 5] Earth, sea, ayre, fire, heau'n, hell, and gastly sprite. Then cries to sencelesse things, which neither knowes What ayleth thee, and if they knew thy minde Would scorne in man (their king) such feeble show's. Rebell, Rebell, in golden fetters binde [ 10] This tyran Loue; or rather do suppresse Those rebell thoughts which are thy slaues by kinde. Let not a glittring name thy fancie dresse In painted clothes, because they call it loue. There is no hate that can thee more oppresse. [ 15] Begin (and halfe the worke is done) to proue By rising vp, vpon thy selfe to stand. And thinck she is a she, that doth thee moue. He water plowes, and soweth in the sand, And hopes the flickring winde with net to holde, [ 20] Who hath his hopes laid vp in womans hand. What man is he that hath his freedome solde? Is he a manlike man, that doth not know man Hath power that Sex with bridle to withhold? A fickle Sex, and trew in trust to no man, [ 25] A seruant Sex, soone prowde if they be coi'de And to conclude thy mistresse is a woman.

Philisides.

O gods, how long this old soole hath annoi'd My wearied eares! O gods yet graunt me this, [ 30] That soone the world of his false tong be void. O noble age who place their only blisse In being heard vntill the hearer dye Vttring a serpents minde with serpents hisse. Then who will heare a well autoris'd lye, [ 35] (And pacience hath) let him goe learne of him What swarmes of vertues did in his youth flye Such hartes of brasse, wise heads, and garments trim Were in his dayes: which heard, one nothing heares, If from his words the falshood he do skim. [ 40] And herein most their folly vaine appeares That since they still alledge, When they were yong: It shews they fetch their wit from youthfull yeares Like beast for sacrifice, where saue the tong And belly nought is left, such sure is he, [ 45] This life-deadman in this old dungeon flong. Olde houses are throwne downe for new we see:

The oldest Rammes are culled from the flocke: No man doth wish his horse should aged bee. The ancient oke well makes a fired blocke: Old men themselues, doe loue young wiues to choose: [ 5] Only fond youth admires a rotten stocke. Who once a white long beard, well handle does, (As his beard him, not he his beard did beare) Though cradle witted, must not honnor loose. Oh when will men leaue off to iudge by haire, [ 10] And thinke them olde, that haue the oldest minde, With vertue fraught and full of holy feare!

Geron.

If that thy face were hid, or I were blinde, I yet should know a young man speaketh now, [ 15] Such wandring reason in thy speech I finde. He is a beast, that beastes vse will allowe For proofe of man, who sprong of heau'nly fire Hath strongest soule, when most his raynes do bowe•• But fondlings fonde, know not your owne desire [ 20] Loth to dye young, and then you must be olde, Fondly blame that to which your selues aspire. But this light choller that doth make you bolde, Rather to wrong then vnto iust defence, Is past with me, my bloud is waxen colde. [ 25] Thy words, though full of malapert offence, I way them not, but still will thee aduize How thou from foolish loue maist purge thy sense. First thinke they erre, that thinke them gayly wise, Who well can set a passion out to show: [ 30] Such sight haue they that see with goggling eyes. Passion beares high when puffing wit doth blowe, But is indeed a toy, if not a toy, True cause of euils, and cause of causelesse woe. If once thou maist that fancie glosse destroy [ 35] Within thy selfe, thou soone wilt be ashamed To be a player of thine owne annoy. Then let thy minde with better bookes be tamed, Seeke to espie her faultes as well as praise, And let thine eyes to other sports be framed. [ 40] In hunting fearefull beastes, do spend some dayes, Or catch the birds with pitfalls, or with lyme, Or trayne the fox that traines so crafty laies. Ly but to sleepe, and in the earely prime Seeke skill of hearbes in hills, haunt brookes neere night, [ 45] And try with bayt how fish will bite sometime. Goe graft againe, and seeke to graft them right, Those pleasant plants, those sweete and frutefull trees,

Which both the pallate, and the eyes delight. Cherish the hiues of wisely painfull Bees: Let speciall care vpon thy flock be staid, Such actiue minde but seldome passion sees.

[ 5]

Philisides.

Hath any man heard what this old man said? Truly not I, who did my thoughts engage, Where all my paines one looke of her hath paid.

Geron was euen out of countenance, finding the words he thought were so wise, [ 10] winne so little reputation at this young mans hands; and therefore sometimes loo∣king vpon an old acquaintance of his called Mastix, one of the repiningest fellows in the world, and that beheld no body but with a minde of mislike (saying still the world was amisse, but how it should be amended, he knew not) sometimes casting his eyes to the ground, euen ashamed to see his gray haires despised, at last he spied [ 15] his two dogges, whereof the elder was called Melampus, and the younger Laelaps (in deede the iewells he euer had with him) one brawling with another; which occasion he tooke to restore himselfe to his countenance, and rating Melampus, he began to speake to his doggs, as if in them a man should finde more obedience then in vnbridled young men. [ 20]

Geron. Mastix.

Geron.

DOwne, downe Melampus; what? your fellow bite? I set you ore the flock I dearly loue, [ 25] Them to defend, not with your selues to fight. Do you not thincke this will the wolues remoue From former feare, they had of your good mindes, When they shall such deuided weakenesse proue? What if Laelaps a better morsell finde? [ 30] Then you earst knew? rather take part with him Then iarle: lo, lo, euen these how enuie blindes. And then Laelaps let not pride make thee brim Because thou hast thy fellow ouergone, But thanke the cause, thou seest, where he is dim. [ 35] Here Laelaps, here, in deed against the foen Of my good sheepe, thou neuer trew's time tooke: Be as thou art, but be with mine at one. For though Melampus like a wolfe doo looke, (For age doth make him of a woluish hew) [ 40] Yet haue I seene when well a wolfe he shooke. Foole that I am that with my dogges speake grewe. Come neer•• good Mastix, tis now full tway score Of yeeres (alas) since I good Mastix knewe. Thou heardst euen now a yong man snebb me sore, [ 45] Because I red him, as I would my son. Youth will haue will: Age must to age therefore.

Masttix.

What maruaile is in youth such faults be done, Since that we see our saddest Shepheards out Who haue their lesson so long time begonne? Quickly secure, and easilie in doubt, [ 5] Either a sleepe be all if nought assaile, Or all abroade if but a Cubb start out. We shepeheards are like them that vnder saile Doe speake high wordes, when all the coaste is cleare, Yet to a passenger will bonnet vaile. [ 10] I con thee thanke to whom thy dogges be deare, But commonly like currs we them entreate, Saue when great need of them perforce apeare. Then him we kisse, whom before we beatt With such intemperance, that each way grows [ 15] Hate of the firste, contempt of later feate: And such discordtwixt greatest shepheards flowes, That sport it is to see with howe greate art By iustice worke they their owne faultes disclose: Like busie boyes, to winne their tutors harte, [ 20] One saith, He mockes; the other saith, he playes; The third his lesson mist, till all do smarte. As for the rest, howe shepeheardes spend their daies, At blowe point, hotcocles, or els at keeles While, Let vs passe our time each shepeheard saies. [ 25] So small accompt of time the shepeheard feeles And doth not feele, that life is nought but time And when that time is paste, death holdes his heeles. To age thus doe they draw there youthfull pryme, Knowing no more, then what poore tryall showes, [ 30] As fishe tryall hath of muddy slyme. This paterne good, vnto our children goes, For what they see, their parents loue or hate Their first caught sence prefers to teachers blowes. These cocklinges cockred we be waile to late, [ 35] When that we see our ofspring gaily bent, Wemen man-wood, & men effeminate.

Geron.

Fy man, fy man, what wordes hath thy tonge lent? Yet thou art mickle warse then ere was I, [ 40] Thy too much zeale, I feare thy braine hath spent. We ost are angrier, with the feeble flie For busines, where it pertaines him not, Then with the poisno'us todes that quiet lie. I pray thee what hath ere the Parret gott, [ 45] And yet they say he talkes in greate mens bowers? A Cage (guilded perchaunce) is all his lott. Who of his tongue the lickowr gladly powrs,

A good foole call'd with paine, perhapps may be, But euen for that shall suffer mightie Lowers. Let swannes example siker serue for thee, Who once all birdes, in sweetly-singing past, But now to silence turn'd his minstralsie. [ 5] For he woulde sing, but others were defaste; The peacockes pride, the pyes pild stattery, Cormoraunts glutt, Kites spoile, king fishers waste. The Falcons fercenes, Sparrows letchery The Cockows shame, the Gooses good intent, [ 10] Euen turtle toutcht he with hypocrisie. And worse of other more, till by assent Of all the birdes, but namely those were grieued, Of fowles there called was a parliament. There was the swan of dignitie depriued, [ 15] And statute made he neuer shoulde haue voice, Since when I thinke he hath in silence liued. I warne thee therefore (since thou maist haue choice) Let not thy tonge become a firy matche, No sword soe bytes as that euill toole annoyes. [ 20] Lett our vnpartiall eyes a litle watche Our owne demeane, and soone we wondre shall That huntinge faultes, our selues we did not catch. Into our mindes let vs a little fall, And we shall find more spottes then Leopards skinne. [ 25] Then who makes vs such iudges ouer all? But farewell nowe, thy fault is no great sinne, Come, come my currs, tis late I will goe in.

[ 30]

And away with his doggs streight he went as if he would be sure to haue the laste worde: all the assemblie laughing at the lustines of the olde fellowe who departed muttering to himselfe he had sene more in his daies then twentie of them. But Basi∣lius, who neuer before had heard Philisides (though hauing seldome failed to beat these metings) desired him hee woulde begin some Ecloge with some other of the [ 35] shepheardes according to the accustomed guise. Philisides though very vnwilling, at the Kings cōmaundemēt of••red to sing with Thyrsis. But he directly refused him, seing, he should within few dayes be maried to the faire Kala; and since he had got∣ten his desire he would sing no more. Then the king willed Philisides to declare the discourse of his owne fortunes vnknowen to them as being a stranger in that coun∣trie [ 40] but hee praied the King to pardon him, the time being farre to ioyfull to suffer the rehearsall of his miseries. But to satisfie Basilius someway, hee began an Eclogue betwixt himselfe and the Echo, framing his voice so in those desert places as what wordes he would haue the Echo replie vnto, those he woulde sing higher then the rest; and so, kindelie framed a disputation betwixt himselfe and it, which with these [ 45] hexam eters in the following order he vttered.

Philisides. Echo.

Faire Rocks, goodly riuers, sweet woods, when shall I see peace? Peace, Peace? what barrs me my tongue? who is it that comes me so ny? I. [ 5] Oh! I do know what guest I haue mett; it is Echo. 't is Echo. Well mett Echo, aproche: then tell me thy will too. I will too. Echo, what do I gett yelding my sprite to my grieues? Grieues. What medecin may I finde for a griefe that draw's me to death? Death. O poisonous medecin! what worse to me can be then it? It. [ 10] In what state was I then, when I tooke this deadly disease? Ease. And what manner a mind which had to that humor a vaine? Vaine. Hath not Reason enough vehemence the desire to reproue? Proue. Oft proue I: but what salue, when Reason seeks to be gone? One Oh! what is it? what is it that may be a salue to my Loue? Loue. [ 15] What do louers seeke for, long seeking for to enioy? Ioy. What be the ioyes which for to enioy they went to the paines? Paines. Then to an earnest Loue what doth best victorie lend? Ende. End? but I can neuer end, loue will not giue me the leaue? Leaue. How be the minds dispos'd that can not tast thy physick? Sick. [ 20] Yet say againe thy aduise forth' eu'lls that I told thee? I told thee. Doth th'infected wretch, of his harme th' extremity know? No. But if he know not his ••arms what guides hath he whil'st he be blind? Blind. What blinde guides can he haue that leanes to a fancy? A fancy. Can fancies want eies, or he fall that steppeth aloft? Oft. [ 25] What causes first made these torments on me to light? Light. Can then a cause be so light that forceth a man to go die? Yea. Yet tell what light thinge I had in me to draw me to die? Eye. Eysight made me to yeelde, but what first pierst to my eies? Eies. Eies hurters, eies hurt but what from them to me fall's? Fall's. [ 30] But when I first did fal, what brought most fall to my hart? Arte. Arte? what can be that art that thou dost meane by thy speche? Speche. What be the fruites of speaking arte? what growes by the words? Words. O much more then words: those words seru'd more me to blesse. Lesse. Oh when shall I be knowne, wher most to be knowne I do longe? Long. [ 35] Long be thy woes for such newes, but how reck's she my thoughts? Oughts. Then then what do I gaine, since vnto hir will I do winde? Winde. Winde, tempests, & stormes, yet in ende what giues she desire? Ire, Silly rewarde! yet among women hath she of vertu the most, Most. What great name may I giue to so heau'nly a woman? A woe-man, [ 40] Woe, but seems to me ioy, that agrees to my thought so. I thought so. Think so, for of my desired blisse it is only the course. Curse. Curs'd be thy selfe for cursing that which leades me to ioies. Toies. What be the sweet creatures wher lowly demaunds be not heard? Hard. What makes them be vnkind? speake for th' hast narroly pride? Pride. [ 45] Whence can pride come there, since springs of beawty be thence? Thence, Horrible is this blasphemy vnto the most holy. O lie. Thou list false Echo, their minds as vertu be iust, Iust.

Mock'st thou those Diamonds which only be matcht by the gods? Ods. Ods? what an ods is their since them to the heau'ns I prefer? erre. Tell yet againe me the names of these faire form'd to do eu'lls. Deu'lls. Deu'lls? if in hell such deu'lls do a bide, to the hells I do go. Go. [ 5]

Philisides was commended for the placing of his Echo, but little did hee regarde their praises, who had sett the foundation of his honour there, where hee was most despisde: and therefore retorning againe to the traine of his desolate pensiuenes, Zelmanes seing no body offer to fill the stage, as if her long restrayned conceates did now burst out of prison: she thus desiring her voice should be accorded to nothing, [ 10] but to Philocleas eares, threw downe the burden of her minde in Anacreous kinde of verses.

My muse what ail's this ardour To blase my onely secretts? Alas it is no glory To sing my owne decaid state. Alas it is no comfort, To speake without an answere. Alas it is no wisdome To shew the wound without cure,

My muse what ail's this ardour? Mine eys be dym, my lyms shake, My voice is hoarse, my throte scerchte, My tong to this my roofe cleaues, My fancy amazde, my thought dull'd, My harte doth ake, my life faints, My sowle beginnes to take leaue. So greate a passion all feele, To think a soare so deadly I should so rashly ripp vp.

My muse what ail's this ardour? If that to sing thou arte bent Go sing the fall of old, Thebes The warres of ougly Centaurs, The life, the death of Hector So may the songe be famous, Or if to loue thou art bent, Rocount the rape of Europe, Adonis end, Venus nett The sleepy kisse the moone stale: So may thy song be pleasant.

My muse what ail's this ardour To blase my onely secretts? Wherein do only flowrish [ 15] The sorry fruites of anguish. The song thereof a last will, The tunes be cryes, the words plaints, The singer is the songs theame When no eare can haue ioy, [ 20] Nor ey receaue due obiect Ne pleasure here, ne fame gett.

My muse what ail's this ardour? Alas she saith I am thine, [ 25] So are thy pains my pains too. Thy heated harte my seat is Wherein I burne thy breath is My voice, too hott to keepe in, Besides lo here the auther [ 30] Of all thy harmes: Lo here she, That only can redresse thee, Of her I will demaund helpe.

My muse I yeeld, my muse singe, [ 35] But all thy songe herein knitt, The life we leade is all loue: The loue we holde is all death, Nor ought I craue to feede life, Nor ought I seeke to shun death, [ 40] But onely that my goddesse My life my death do counte hers.

Basilius when shee had fully ended her song, fell prostrate vpon the ground, and [ 45] thanked the Gods they had preserued his life so longe, as to heare the very musicke they themselues vsed, in an earthly body. And then with like grace to Zelmane neuer

left intreating her till she had (taking a Lyra Basilius helde for her) song these Pha••e••∣ciakes

Reason, tell me thy mind, if here be reason In this strange violence, to make resistance. [ 5] Where sweet graces erect the stately banner Of vertues regiment, shining in harnesse Of fortunes Diademes, by beauty mustred. Say then Reason, I say what is thy counsell?

[ 10] Her loose haire be the shott, the breaste the pykes be, Skowts each motion is, the hands be horsmen, Her lipps are the riches the warres to maintaine, Where well couched abides a coffer of pearle, Her legges carriage is of all the sweet campe: [ 15] Say then Reason I say what is thy counsell?

Her cannons be her eys, myne eys the walls be, Which at firste voly gaue too open entry, Nor ramper did abide; my braine was vp blowne, [ 20] Vndermin'd with a speech the pearcer of thoughts. Thus weakned by my selfe, no helpe remaineth Say then Reason; I say, what is thy counsell?

And now fame the herald of her true honour, [ 25] Doth proclaime with a sound made all by mens mouths That nature souerayne of earthly dwellers, Commands all creatures, to yeeld obeysance Vnder this, this her owne, her only dearling. Say then Reason I say what is thy counsell?

[ 30]

Reason sighes but in end he thus doth answere. Nought can reason auaile in heau'nly matters. Thus natures Diamond receaues thy conquest, Thus pure pearle, I do yeeld, my senses and soule. [ 35] Thus sweete paine, I do yeeld, what ere I can yeelde, Reason looke to thy selfe, I serue a goddesse.

Dorus had long he thought kept silence from saying, somwhat which might tend to the glorie of her in whom all glory to his seeming was included, but nowe hee [ 40] brake it, singing these verses called Asclepiadikes.

O sweet woods the delight of solitarines! O how much I do like your solitarines! where mans mind hath afreed consideration [ 45] Of goodnes to receiue louely direction. Where senses do behold th'order of heau'nly hoste, And wise thoughts do behold what the creator is:

Contemplation here holdeth his only seate: Bowndedwith no limitts, borne with a wing of hope Clymes euen vnto the starres, Nature is vnder it. Nought disturbs thy quiet, all to thy seruice yeelds, Each sight draws on a thought, thought mother of science, [ 5] Sweet birds kindly do graunt harmony vnto thee, Faire trees shade is enough fortification, Nor danger to thy selfe if be not in thy selfe.

O sweete woods the delight of solitarines! [ 10] O how much I do like your solitarines! Here nor treason is hidd, vailed in innocence, Nor enuies snaky ey, finds any harbor here, Nor flatterers venomous insinuations, Nor comming humorists puddled opinions, [ 15] Nor courteous ruin of proffered vsury, Nor time pratled away, cradle of ignorance, Nor causelesse duty, nor comber of arrogance, Nor trifling title of vanity dazleth vs, Nor golden manacles, stand for a paradise, [ 20] Here wrongs name is vnheard: slander a monster is Keepe thy sprite from abuse, here no abuse doth haunte. What man grafts in a tree dissimulation?

O sweete woods the delight of solitarines! O how well I do like your solitarines! [ 25] Yet deare soile, if a soule closedin a mansion As sweete as violetts, faire as lilly is, Streight as Cedar, a voice staines the Cannary birds, Whose shade safely doth hold, danger auoideth her: Such wisedome, that in her liues speculation: [ 30] Such goodnes that in her simplicitie triumphs: Where enuies snaky ey, winketh or els dyeth, Slander wants aprelext, flattery gone beyond: Oh! if such a one haue bent, to a lonely life, Her stepps gladd we receaue, gladd we receaue her eys. [ 35] And thinke not she doth hurt our solitarines, For such company decks such solitarines.

The other Shepeheards were offring themselues to haue continued the sportes, but the night had so quietlie spent the most parte of herselfe among them that the [ 40] king for that time licēsed thē. And so bringing Zelmane to her lodging, who would much rather haue done the same for Philoclea, of all sides they went to counterfett a sleepe in their bedd, for a trewe one there agonies could not aforde them. Yet there they Lay (so might they be moste solitarie for the foode of their thoughts) til it was neere noone the next day, after which Basilius was to continue his Appollo deuotions, [ 45] and the other to meditate vpon their priuate desires.

The end of the second Eclogues.