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

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THE THIRDE BOOKE OF THE [ 10] COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA. (Book 3)

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THis last dayes danger, hauing made Pamalaes loue discerne, what a losse it should haue suffered, if Dorus had bene destroied, bred such tendernesse of kindnes in her toward him: [ 20] that she could no longer keep loue from loking out through her eyes, and going forth in her words; whom before as a close prisoner she had to her hart onely committed; so as finding not only by his speeches and letters, but by the piti∣full oration of a languishing behauiour, and the easily discyphered character of a sorowfull face, that Dispaire began now to threaten him de∣struction, she grewe content both to pittie him, and let him see she pityed him: as well by making her owne beautifull beames to thawe awaye the former icinesse of [ 30] her behauiour, as by entertaining his discourses (whensoeuer he did vse them) in the third person of Musidorus; to so farre a degree, that in the ende she said, that if she had bene the Princes, whom that disguised Prince had vertuously loued, she would haue requited his faith with faithfull affectiō: finding in her hart, that nothing could so hartily loue as vertue: with many mo words to the same sence of noble fauour, [ 35] and chast plainnesse. Which when at the first it made that expected blisse shine vpō Dorus; he was like one frozen with extremitie of colde, ouer-hastilye brought to a great fire, rather oppressed, then relieued with such a lightning of felicitie. But af∣ter the strength of nature had made him able to feele the sweetnes of ioyfulnes, that againe being a childe of Passion, and neuer acquainted with mediocrity, could not [ 40] set bounds vpon his happines, nor be content to giue Desire a kingdome, but that it must be an vnlimitted Monarchie. So that the ground he stoode vpon being ouer-high in happines, and slippery through affection, he could not holde himselfe from falling into such an error, which with sighs blew al comfort out of his brest, & washt away all cheerfulnes of his cheer, with teares. For this fauour filling him with hope, [ 45] Hope encouraging his desire, and Desire considering nothing, but oportunitie: one

time (Mopsa being called away by her mother, and he left alone with Pamela) the sudden occasion called Loue, and that neuer staide to aske Reasons leaue; but made the too-much louing Dorus take her in his armes, offering to kisse her, and as it were, to establish a trophee of his victorie. But she, as if she had bin ready to drink a wine of excellent tast & colour, which suddenly she perceiued had poison in it, so did she [ 5] put him away frō her: loking first vp to heauen, as amazed to finde herselfe so be∣guiled in him; then laying the cruell punishment vpon him of angry Loue, and low∣ring beautie, shewing disdain, & a despising disdain, Away (said she) vnworthy man to loue, or to be loued. Assure thy self, I hate my selfe for being so deceiued; iudge then what I doo thee, for deceiuing me. Let me see thee no more, the only fall of [ 10] my indgement, and staine of my conscience. With that she called Mopsa, not staying for any answer (which was no other, but a flood of teares) which she seemed not to mark (much lesse to pity) & chid her for hauing so left her alone.

It was not an amazement, it was not a sorrow, but it was euen a death, which then laid hold of Dorus: which certainly at that instant would haue killed him, but [ 15] that the feare to tarrie longer in her presence (contrarye to her commaundement) gaue him life to cary himself away from her sight, and to run into the woods, where throwing himselfe downe at the foot of a tree, he did not fall to lamentation, for that proceeded of pittying) or grieuing for himself (which he did no way) but to curses of his life, as one that detested himselfe. For finding himselfe not onely vnhappy, but [ 20] vnhappy after being falne from all happines: and to be falne from all happines, not by any misconceiuing, but by his own fault, and his fault to be done to no other but to Pamela: he did not tender his owne estate, but despised it; greedily drawing into his minde, all conceipts which might more and more torment him. And so remai∣ned he two daies in the woods, disdaining to giue his bodie food, or his mind com∣fort, [ 25] louing in himselfe nothing, but the loue of her. And indeede that loue onelye straue with the fury of his anguish, telling it, that if it destroyed Dorus, it should also destroy the image of her that liued in Dorus: and whē the thought of that was crept in vnto him, it begā to win of him some compassion to the shrine of that image, & to bewaile not for himself (whō he hated, but that so notable a loue should perish. Thē [ 30] began he onely so far to wish his owne good, as that Pamela might pardon him the fault, though not the punishmēt: and the vttermost height he aspired vnto, was, that after his death she might yet pitie his error, & know that it proceeded of loue, & not of boldnes. That cōceipt found such friendship in his thoughts, that at last he yelded since he was banished her presēce, to seek some means by writing to shew his sorow [ 35] and testifie his repētance. Therfore getting him the necessary instrumēts of writing, he thought best to coūterfait his hād (fearing that as already she knew his, she would cast it away as soon as she saw it) & to put it in verse, hoping that would draw her on to read the more, chusing the Elegiac as fittest for mourning: but neuer pen did more quakingly perform his office; neuer was paper more double moistned with inke & [ 40] teares; neuer words more slowly maried together, & neuer the Muses more tired thā now with changes & rechanges of his deuises: fearing how to end, before he had re∣solued how to begin, mistrusting ech word, condemning eche sentence. This word was not significant, that word was too plain: this would not be cōceiued, the other would be ill cōceiued. Here Sorow was not enough expressed; there he seemed too [ 45] much for his own sake to be sory. This sentēce rather shewed art, thē passion; that sē∣tence rather foolishly passionate, thē forcibly mouing. At last, marring with mēding

and putting out better, then he left, he made an end of it; and being ended, was di∣uerse times readie to teare it: till his reason assuring him, the more he studied, the worse it grew, he folded it vp, deuoutly inuoking good acceptation vnto it; and watching his time, when they were all gone one day to dinner (sauing Mopsa) to the other lodge, stale vp into Pamelaes chamber, and in her standish (which first he kissed; and craued of it a safe and friendly keeping) left it there, to be seene at her next vsing her inke (himselfe returning againe to be true prisoner to desperate sor∣row) leauing her standish vpon her beds head, to giue her the more occasion to marke it: which also fell out.

[ 10] For she finding it at her after noone-returne, in another place then she left it, opened it. But when she saw the letter, her hart gaue her from whence it came. And therefore clapping it to againe, she went away from it, as if it had bene a con∣tagious garment of an infected person: and yet was not long away, but that she wi∣shed she had read it, though she were loth to read it. Shall I (said she) secōd his bold∣nes [ 15] so far, as to read his presumptuous letters? And yet (said she) he sees me not now to grow the bolder therby: And how can I tel, whether they be presumptuous? The paper came from him & therfore not worthy to be receiued? and yet the paper (she thought was not guiltie. At last, she concluded, it were not much amisse to looke it ouer, that she might out of his words pick some further quarrell against him. The•• [ 20] she opened it, and threw it away, and took it vp againe, till (ere she were aware) he•• eyes would needs read it, conteining this matter.

VNto a caitife wretch, whom long affliction holdeth, and now fully beleeues helpe to be quite perished; Grant yet, grant yet a looke, to the last monument of his anguishe, [ 25] O you (alas so I finde) cause of his onely ruine. Dread not a whit (O goodly cruell) that pittie may enter into thy hart by the sight of this Epistle I send•• And so refuse to beholde of these strange wounds the recitall, least it might th'allure home to thy selfe to returne, [ 30] (Vnto thy selfe I do meane those graces dwell so within thee, gratefulnes, sweetnes, holy loue, hartie regard) Such thing cannot I seeke (Despaire hath giu'n me my answere Despaire most tragicall clause to a deadly request) Such thing cannot he hope, that knowes thy determinat hardnes; [ 35] hard like a rich marbell: hard, but a faire Diamond. Can those eyes that of eyes drownd in most harty flowing teares, (teares and teares of a man) had no returne to remorse; Can those eyes now yeeld to the kind conceit of a sorow, which inke onely relates, but ne laments, ne replies? [ 40] Ah, that, that I do I not conceiue (though that to my blisse were) more then Nestors yeares, more then a Kings diademe. Ah, that, that do I not conceiue; to the heauen when a mouse climes then may I hope t'atchieue grace of a heauenly tiger. But, but alas, like a man condemn'd doth craue to be heard speak [ 45] not that he hopes for amends of the desaster he feeles, But finding th'approch of death with an inly relenting, giues an adieu to the world, as to his onely delight:

Right so my boiling hart, enflam'de with s••re of a faire eye, bubling out doth breath signes of his hugie dolours: Now that he findes to what end his life, and loue be reserued, and that he thence must part where to liue only he liu'd. O faire, O fairest, are such thy triumphs to thy fairenesse? [ 5] can death beautie become? must I be such monument? Must I be onely the marke, shall proue that vertue is angrie? shall proue that fiercenes can with a white doue abide? Shall to the world appeare that faith and loue be rewarded with mortall disdaine, bent to vnendly reuenge? [ 10] Vnto reuenge? O sweete, on a wretch wilt thou be reuenged? shall such high Plannets tend to the losse of a worme? And to reuenge who doo bend, would in that kinde be reuenged, as th'offence was done, and goe beyond if he can. All my'offence was Loue: with Loue then must I be chastned, [ 15] and with more, by the lawes that to reuenge doo belong. If that loue be a fault, more fault in you to be louely: Loue ne••er had me opprest, but that I saw to be lou'd. You be the cause that I loud: what Reason blameth a shadowe, that with a body 't goes? since by a body it is. [ 20] If that Loue you did hate, you should your beauty haue hidden: you should those faire eyes haue with a veile couered. But fooole, foole that I am, those eyes would shine from a darke caue. what veiles then doo preuaile, but to a more miracle? Or those golden lockes, those lockes which lock me to bondage, [ 25] torne you should disperse vnto the blasts of a winde. But foole, foole that I am, tho I had but a haire of her head found, eu'n as I am, so I should vnto that haire be a thrall. Or with faire hands-nailes (ô hand which nailes me to this death) you should haue your face (since Loue is ill) blemished. [ 30] O wretch, what do I say? should that faire face be defaced? should my too-much sight cause so true a Sunne to be lost? First let Cimmerian darknes be my onel'habitacion: first be mine eyes pulde out, first be my braine perished; Ere that I should consent to doo so excessiue a dammage [ 35] vnto the earth, by the hurt of this her heauenly iewell. O not, but such loue you say you could haue afoorded, as might learne Temp'rance voide of a rages euents. O sweet simplicitie: from whence should Loue be so learned? vnto Cupid that boy shall a Pedante be found? [ 40] Well: but faultie I was: Reason to my Passion yeelded, Passion vnto my rage, Rage to a hastie reuenge. But what's this for a fault, for which such faith be abolisht, such saith, so staineles, inuiolate, violent? Shall I not? ô may I not thus yet refresh the remembrance, [ 45] what sweete ioyes I had once, and ••hat a place I did hold? Shall I not once obiect, that you, you graunted a fauour

vnto the man, whom now such miseries you awarde? Bend your thoughts to the dear sweet words which then to me giu'n were: thinke what a world is now, thinke who hath altred her hart. What? was I then worthie such good, now worthie such euill? [ 5] now fled, then cherished? then so nie, now so remote? Did not a rosed breath, from lips more rosie proceeding, say, that I should well finde in what a care I was had? With much more: now what doo I finde, but Care to abhor me, Care that I sinke in griefe, Care that I liue banished? [ 10] And banished doo I liue, nor now will seeke a recou'rie, since so she will, whose will is to me more then a lawe. If then a man in most ill case may giue you a farewell; farewell, long farewell, all my woe, all my delight.

What this would haue wrought in her, she her selfe could not tell: for, before [ 15] her Reason could moderate the disputatiō betwene Fauour & Faultines, her sister, and Miso, called her downe to entertaine Zelmane, who was come to visite the two sisters; about whom, as about two Poles, the Skie of Beautie was turned: while Gy∣necia wearied her bed with her melancholie sicknes, and made Misos shrewdnesse (who like a sprite, set to keep a treasure, bard Zelmane from any further conference) [ 20] to be the Lieutenant of her iealousie: Both she and her husband, driuing Zelmane to such a streight of resolution, either of impossible graunting, or dangerous refu∣sing, as the best escape she had, was (as much as she could) to auoyde their compa∣nie. So as, this day, being the fourth day after the vprore, (Basilius being with his sicke wife, conferring vpon such examinations, as Philanax, and other of his noble∣men [ 25] had made of this late sedition, all touching Cecropia with vehement suspition of giuing either flame or fuell vnto it) Zelmane came with her bodie, to find her mind, which was gone long before her, and had gotten his seate in Philoclea: who now with a bashfull cheerefulnesse (as though she were ashamed, that she could not choose but be glad) ioyned with her sis••er, in making much of Zelmane.

[ 30] And so as they sate deuising how to giue more feathers to the wings of Time, there came to the lodge dore, sixe maides, all in one liuerie of skarlet petticotes, which were tuckt vp almost to their knees, the petticotes them selues being in many places garnished with leaues, their legges naked, sauing that aboue the anckles they had little black silke laces, vpon which did hang a few siluer belles: [ 35] like which they had a little aboue their elbowes, vpon their bare armes. Vpon their haire they ware garlands of roses and gilliflowers; and the haire was so drest, as that came againe aboue the garlandes; enterchaunging a mutuall couering: so as it was doubtfull, whether the haire drest the garlandes, or the garlands drest the haire. Their breasts liberall to the eye: the face of the formost of them, in ex∣cellencie [ 40] faire; and of the rest louely, if not beautifull: and beautifull might haue bene, if they had not suffered greedy Phaebus, ouer-often, and harde, to kisse them. Their countenaunces full of a gracefull grauitie; so as the gesture matcht with the apparrell, it might seeme a wanton modestie, and an entising sobernes. Each of them had an instrument of musick in their hands, which consorting their [ 45] wel-pleasing tunes, did charge each eare with vnsensiblenes, that did not lend it self vnto them. The Musick entring alone into the lodge, the Ladies were all desirous to see frō whence so pleasant a guest was come: and therfore went out together; where

before they could take the paines to doubt, much lesse to aske the question of their qualitie, the fairest of them (with a gay, but yet discreete demeanour) in this sort spake vnto them. Most excellent Ladies, (whose excellencies haue power to make cities enuie these woods, and solitarines to be accounted the sweetest companie) vouchsafe our message your gracious hearing, which as it comes frō Loue, so comes [ 5] it from louely persons. The maides of all this coast of Arcadia, vnderstanding the often accesse that certaine shepheards of these quarters, are allowed to haue in this forbidden place; and that their rurall sports are not disdained of you, haue ben stird with emulation to them, & affectiō to you, to bring forth some thing, which might as well breed your contentment: and therefore hoping that the goodnes of their in∣tention, [ 10] & the hurtlesnes of their sex shal excuse the breach of the commandemēt in comming to this place vnsent for, they chose out vs, to inuite both your princely pa∣rents, and your selues, to a place in the woods about halfe a mile hence: where they haue prouided some such sports, as they trust your gratious acceptations will inter∣pret to be delightfull. We haue bene at the other lodge, but finding them there, bu∣sied [ 15] in weightier affaires, our trust is, that you yet will not denie the shining of your eies vpon vs. The Ladies stood in some doubt, whether they should goe or not, lest Basilius might be angry withall. But Miso (that had bene at none of the pastorals, & had a great desire to lead her old senses abroad to some pleasure) told them plain∣ly, they should nor will nor choose, but go thether, and make the honest countrie [ 20] people know, that they were not so squeamish as folkes thought of them. The La∣dies glad to be warranted by her authoritie; with a smiling humblenesse obeied her: Pamela only casting a seeking looke, whether she could see Dorus (who poore wretch wandred halfe mad for sorrow in the woods, crying for pardon of her, who could not heare him) but indeed was grieued for his absence, hauing giuen the [ 25] wound to him through her owne harte. But so the three Ladies & Miso went with those six Nymphes, conquering the length of the way with the force of musique, lea∣uing only Mopsa behind, who disgraced weeping with her countenāce, because her mother would not suffer her to shew her newskoured face among thē. But the place apointed (as they thought) met them halfe in their way, so well were they pleased [ 30] with the sweete tunes & prettie conuersation of their inuiters. There found they in the midst of the thickest part of the wood, a litle square place, not burdened with trees, but with a boord couered, & beautified with the pleasantest fruites, that Sun∣burnd Autumne could deliuer vnto thē. The maids besought the Ladies to sit down and tast of the swelling grapes, which seemed great with child of Bacchus: and of [ 35] the diuers coloured plums, which gaue the eye a pleasant tast before they came to the mouth. The Ladies would not shew to scorne their prouision, but eat, & dranke a little of their coole wine, which seemed to laugh for ioy to come to such lips.

But after the collation was ended, and that they looked for the cōming foorth of such deuises, as were prepared for them, there rusht out of the woods twentie ar∣med [ 40] men, who round about enuironed them, and laying hold of Zelmane before she could draw her sword, and taking it from her, put hoods ouer the heads of all fower, and so muffled, by force set them on horsebacke and carried them away; the sisters in vaine crying for succour, while Zelmanes harte was rent in peeces with rage of the iniurie, and disdaine of her fortune. But when they had caried them a [ 45] foure or fiue mile further, they lefte Miso with a gagge in her mouth, and bound hande and foote, so to take her fortune: and brought the three Ladies

(by that time that the Night seemed with her silence to conspire to their treason) to a castle about ten mile frō the Lodges: where they were fain to take a boat which wayted for them. For the castle stood in the midst of a great lake vpon a high rocke, where partly by Arte, but principallie by Nature, it was by all men estemed impreg∣nable. [ 5] But at the Castle gate their faces were discouered, & there were mett with a great number of torches, after whom the sisters knew their aunt in law, Cecropia. But that sight increased the deadly terrour of the Princesses, looking for nothing but death, since they were in the power of the wicked Cecropia: who yet came vnto them, making courtesie the outside of mischiefe, and desiring them not to bee discomfor∣ted: [ 10] for they were in a place dedicated to their seruice, Philoclea (with a looke where Loue shined through the miste of Feare) besought her to be good vnto thē, hauing neuer deserued euill of her. But Pamelas high harte disdayning humblenesse to iniu∣rie, Aunt, (said she) what you haue determined of vs I pray you doo it speedily: for my part I looke for no seruice, where I finde violence.

[ 15] But Cecropia (vsing no more words with them) conueyed them all three to seue∣rall lodgings (Zelmanes harte so swelling with spite, that she could not bring foorth a word) and so lefte them: first taking from them their kniues, because they should do themselues no hurte, before she had determined of them: and then giuing such or∣der that they wanted nothing but libertie, & comfort, shee went to her sonne, who [ 20] yet kept his bed, because of his wounde hee had receiued of Zelmane, & tolde him, whom now he had in his power. Amphialus was but euen then returned from far countries, where he had wonne immortal fame, both of courage & courtesie, when he met with the Princesses, and was hurt by Zelmane, so as hee was vtterly ignorant of all his mothers wicked deuises, to which he would neuer haue consented, being [ 25] (like a rose out of a brier) an excellent sonne of an euill mother: and now when hee heard of this, was as much amazed, as if he had seen the Sunne fall to the earth. And therefore desired his mother that shee would tell him the whole discourse, howe all these matters had happened. Sonne (saide shee) I will doo it willingly, & since all is done for you, I will hide nothing from you. And howsoeuer I might be ashamed to [ 30] tell it straungers, who would thinke it wickednes, yet what is done for your sake (how euill soeuer to others) to you is vertue. To begin then euen with the begin∣ning, this doting foole Basilius that now raignes, hauing liued vnmaried till hee was nigh threescore yeares old (and in all his speaches affirming, and in all his dooinges assuring, that he neuer would marrie) made all the eyes of this country to bee bent [ 35] vpon your father, his onely brother (but younger by thirty yeares) as vpon the vn∣doubted successour: being indeed a mā worthy to raigne, thinking nothing enough for himselfe: where this goose (you see) puts downe his head, before there be any thing neere to touch him. So that he holding place and estimation as heyre of Arca∣dia, obteyned me of my father the King of Argos, his brother helping to the conclu∣sion, [ 40] with protesting his bachelerly intention: for else you may be sure the King of Argos, nor his daughter would haue suffered their Royall bloud to bee stained with the base name of subiection. So that I came into this countrie as apparant Princesse thereof, and accordingly was courted, and followed of all the Ladies of this coun∣trie. My porte and pompe did well become a King of Argos daughter: in my pre∣sence [ 45] their tongues were turned into eares, and their eares were captiues vnto my tongue. Their eyes admired my Maiestie, & happy was he or she, on whom I would suffer the beames therof to fall. Did I goe to church? it seemed the very Goddes

wayted for me, their deuotions not being solemnized till I was ready. Did I walke abroad to see any delight? Nay, my walking was the delight it selfe: for to it was the concourse; one thrusting vpon another, who might shewe him selfe most diligent and seruiceable towardes me: my sleepes were inquired after, and my wakings ne∣uer vnsaluted: the very gate of my house full of principall persons, who were glad, [ 5] if their presents had receaued a gratefull acceptation. And in this felicitie wert thou borne, the very earth submitting it self vnto thee to be troden on as by his Prince; & to that passe had my husbands vertue (by my good help) within short time brought it, with a plot we laide, as wee should not haue needed to haue waited the tedious worke of a naturall end of Basilius; when the heauens (I thinke enuying my great fe∣licity) [ 10] then stopt thy fathers breath, when he breathed nothing but power and soue∣raigntie. Yet did not thy orphancie, or my widdowhood, depriue vs of the delight∣full prospect, which the hill of honour dooth yeeld, while expectation of thy suc∣cession did bind dependencies vnto vs.

But before, (my sonne) thou wert come to the age to feele the sweetnesse of au∣thoritie, [ 15] this beast (whom I can neuer name with patience) falsely and foolishly married this Gynecia, then a young girle, and brought her to sit aboue me in al feasts to turne her shoulder to me-warde in all our solemnities. It is certaine, it is not so great a spite to bee surmounted by straungers, as by ones owne allies. Thinke then what my minde was, since withall there is no question: The fall is greater from the [ 20] first to the second, then from the second to the vndermost. The rage did swell in my harte, so much the more as it was faine to bee suppressed in silence, and disguised with humblenes. But aboue all the rest, the griefe of grieues was, when with these two daughters (now thy prisoners (she cut of all hope of thy successiō. It was a tedi∣ous thing to me; that my eies should loke lower then any bodies, that (my self being [ 25] by) anothers voice then mine, should be more respected. But it was in supportable vnto me, to think that not only I, but thou shouldst spend al thy time in such misery and that the Sun should see my eldest son lesse then a Prince. And though I had ben a sainct I could not choose, finding the chaunge this chaunge of fortune bred vnto me, for now from the multitude of followers, silēce grew to be at my gate, & absence [ 30] in my presence. The guesse of my mind could preuaile more before; then now ma∣ny of my earnest requests. And thou (my deare sonne) by the fickle multitude no more then an ordinary person (borne of the mud of the people) regarded. But I (re∣membring that in all miseries weeping becomes fooles, and practize wise folks) haue tried diuers meanes to pull vs out of the mire of subiection. And though many times [ 35] Fortune failed me, yet did I neuer faile my selfe. Wild beastes I kept in a caue harde by the lodges, which I caused by night to be fed in the place of their pastorales, I as then liuing in my house hard by the place, and against the houre they were to meet (hauing kept the beastes without meate) then let them loose, knowing that they would seeke their food there, and deuoure what they founde. But blind Fortune [ 40] hating sharpe-sighted inuentions, made them vnluckily to bee killed. After I vsed my seruant Clinias to stir a notable tumult of country people: but those loutes were too grosse instruments for delicate conceits. Nowe lastly, finding Philanax his exa∣minations grow daungerous, I thought to play double or quit; and with a sleight I vsed of my fine-witted wench Artesia, with other maids of mine, woulde haue sent [ 45] these goodly inheritrixes of Arcadia, to haue pleaded their cause before Pluto, but that ouer-fortunatly for thē, you made me know the last day how vehemētly this childish

passion of loue, doth torment you. Therfore I haue brought them vnto you, yet wishing rather hate then loue in you. For Hate often begetteth victory; Loue com∣monly is the instrument of subiection. It is true, that I would also by the same prac∣tise haue entrapped the parentes, but my maides failed of it, not daring to tary long [ 5] about it. But this sufficeth, since (these being taken away) you are the vndoubted inheritor, and Basilius will not long ouer-liue this losse.

O mother (said Amphialus) speak not of doing them hurt, no more thē to mine eyes, or my hart, or if I haue any thing more deare then eyes, or hart vnto me. Let o∣thers finde what sweetnes they will in euer fearing, because they are euer feared: for [ 10] my part, I will think my selfe highlye intitled, if I may be once by Philoclea accepted for a seruant. Well (said Cecropia) I would I had borne you of my minde, as wel as of my body: then should you not haue suncke vnder these base weaknesses. But since you haue tied your thoughts in so wilful a knot, it is happie my policy hath brought matters to such a passe, as you may both enioy affection, and vpon that builde your [ 15] soueraigntie. Alas (said Amphialus) my hart would faine yeeld you thanks for setting me in the way of felicitie, but that feare killes thē in me, before they are fully borne. For if Philoclea be displeased, how can I be pleased? if she count it vnkindenes, shal I giue tokens of kindnes? perchance she condemnes me of this action, and shall I tri∣umph? perchance she drownes now the beauties I loue with sorrowfull teares, and [ 20] where is then my reioycing? You haue reason said (Cecropia with a fained grauitie) I will therefore send her away presently, that her contentment may be recou••red. No good mother (saide Amphialus) since she is here, I would not for my life constraine presence, but rather would I die then consent to absence. Pretie intricate follies (said Cecropia) but get you vp, and see how you can preuaile with her, while I go to [ 25] the other sister. For after we shal haue our hands full to defend our selues, if Basilius hap to besiege vs. But remembring herselfe, she turned back and asked him what he would haue done with Zelmane, since now he might be reuenged of his hurt. No∣thing but honorably, answered Amphialus, hauing deserued no other of me, especial∣ly being (as I hear) greatly cherished of Philoclea: and therfore I could wish they were [ 30] lodged together. O no (said Cecropia) company confirmes resolutions, and lonelines breeds a werines of ones thoughts, and so a sooner consenting to reasonable profers.

But Amphialus (taking of his mother Philocleas kniues, which he kept as a relique, since she had worne thē) gat vp, and calling for his richest apparell, nothing seemed sumptuous inough for his mistresses eyes: and that which was costly, he feared were [ 35] not dainty•• and though the inuention were delicat, he misdoubted the making. As carefull he was too of the colour; lest if gay, he might seem to glory in his iniury, & her wrong; if mourning, it might strike some euil presage vnto her of her fortune. At length he took a garmēt more rich then glaring, ••he ground being black veluet, rich∣ly embrodered with great pearle, & precious stones, but they set so among certaine [ 40] tuffes of cipres, that the cipres was like black clowds, through which the stars might yeeld a dark luster. About his neck he ware a brode & gorgeous coller; whereof the pieces enterchāgeably answering; the one was of diamōds & pearle, set with a white enamell, so as by the cunning of the workman it seemed like a shining ice, and the o∣ther piece being of Rubies, and Opalles, had a fierie glistring, which he thought pic∣tured [ 45] the two passions of Feare & Desire, wherein he was enchained. His hurt (not yet fully well) made him a little halt, but he straue to giue the best grace he coulde vnto his halting.

And in that sorte hee went to Philocleas Chamber: whome he found (because her Chamber was ouer-lightsome) sitting of that side of her bedde which was from the windowe; which did cast such a shadowe vpon her, as a good Painter would bestowe vpon Venus, when vnder the trees she bewailed the murther of Adonis: her hands and fingers (as it were) indented one within the other: her [ 5] shoulder leaning to her beds head, and ouer her head a scarfe, which did eclipse almost halfe her eyes, which vnder it fixed their beames vpon the wall by, with so steddie a maner, as if in that place they might well chaunge, but not mende their obiect: and so remayned they a good while after his comming in, he not da∣ring to trouble her, nor she perceiuing him, till that (a little varying her thoughts [ 10] something quickening her senses) she heard him as he happed to stirre his vpper garment: and perceiuing him, rose vp, with a demeanure, where in the booke of Beauty there was nothing to be read but Sorrow: for Kindenes was blotted out, & Anger was neuer there.

But Amphialus that had entrusted his memorie with long and forcible speeches, [ 15] found it so locked vp in amazement, that he could pike nothing out of it, but the beseeching her to take what was don in good part, and to assure herselfe there was nothing but honour meant vnto her person. But she making no other aunswere, but letting her handes fall one from the other, which before were ioyned (with eyes something cast aside, and a silent sigh) gaue him to vnderstande, that con∣sidering [ 20] his dooings, she thought his speeche as full of incongruitie, as her aun∣swere would be voyde of purpose: whereupon he kneeling downe, and kissing her hand, (which she suffered with a countenance witnessing captiuitie, but not kindnesse) he besought her to haue pitie of him, whose loue went beyond the boundes of conceite, much more of vttering: that in her hands the ballance of his [ 25] life or death did stand; whereto the least motion of hers would serue to determine, she being indeed the mistres of his life, and he her eternall slaue; and with true ve∣hemencie besought her that he might heare her speak, wherevpon she suffered her sweete breath to turne it selfe into these kinde of words.

Alas cousin, (saide she) what shall my tongue be able to doo, which is in∣fourmed [ 30] by the eares one way, and by the eyes another? You call for pittie, and vse crueltie; you say, you loue me, and yet do the effects of enmitie. You affirme your death is in my handes, but you haue brought me to so neere a degree to death, as when you will, you may lay death vpon me: so that while you saye I mistresse of your life, I am not mistresse of mine owne. You entitle your selfe [ 35] my slaue, but I am ••ure I am yours. If then violence, iniurie, terror, and depri∣uing of that which is more deare then life it selfe, libertie, be fit orators for affection, you may expect that I will be easily perswaded. But if the nearenesse of our kin∣red breede any remorse in you, or there be any such thing in you, which you call loue towarde me, then let not my fortune be disgraced with the name of impri∣sonment: [ 40] let not my hart waste it selfe by being vexed with feeling euill, and fea∣ring worse. Let not me be a cause of my parents wofull destruction; but restore me to my selfe; and so doing I shall account I haue receiued my selfe of you. And what I say for my selfe, I say for my deare sister, and my friend Zelmane: for I desire no wel-being, without they may be partakers. With that her teares ray∣ned [ 45] downe from her heauenly eyes, and seemed to water the sweete and beautifull flowers of her face.

But Amphialus was like the poore woman, who louing a tame Doe she had, a∣boue all earthly things, hauing long played withall, and made it feed at her hand and lappe, is constrained at length by famine (all her flocke being spent, and she fallen into extreeme pouertie) to kill the Deare, to sustaine her life. Many a pitifull [ 5] looke doth she cast vpon it, and many a time doth she drawe backe her hand be∣fore she can giue the stroke. For euen so Amphialus by a hunger-starued affection, was compelled to offer this iniurie, and yet the same affection made him with a tor∣menting griefe, thinke vnkindnesse in himselfe, that he coulde finde in his hart any way to restraine her freedome. But at length, neither able to graunt, [ 10] nor denie, he thus answered her. Deare Lady (said he) I will not say vnto you (how iustly soeuer I may do it) that I am nether author, nor accessarie vnto this your with holding. For since I do not redres it, I am as faulty as if I had begun it. But this I pro∣test vnto you (and this protestation of mine, let the heauens heare, and if I lye, let them answer me with a deadly thunderbolt) that in my soule I wish I had neuer [ 15] seene the light, or rather, that I had neuer had a father to beget such a child, then that by my means those eyes should ouerflow their own beauties, then by my means the skie of your vertue should be ouerclowded with sorrow. But woe is me, most excellent Ladye, I finde my selfe most willing to obey you: neither truelye doo mine eares receaue the least word you speak, with any lesse reuerence, then [ 20] as absolute, and vnresistable commaundements. But alas, that tirant Loue, (which now possesseth the holde of all my life and reason) will no way suffer it. It is Loue, it is Loue, not I, which disobey you. What then shall I say? but that I, who am re∣die to lye vnder your feete, to venture, nay to loose my life at your least comman∣dement: I am not the staye of your freedome, but Loue, Loue, which tyes you in [ 25] your owne knots. It is you your selfe, that imprison your selfe: it is your beauty which makes these castlewalles embrace you: it is your own eyes, which reflect vpon themselues this iniurye. Then is there no other remedie, but that you some way vouchsafe to satisfie this Loues vehemencie; which (since it grew in your selfe) without question you shall finde it (far more then I) tractable.

[ 30] But with these wordes Philoclea fell to so extreame a quaking, and her liuelye whitenesse did degenerate to such a deadly palenesse, that Amphialus feared some daungerous traunce: so that taking her hande, and feelinge that it (which was woonte to be one of the chiefe firebrands of Cupid) had all the sence of it wrapt vp in coldnes, he began humblie to beseech her to put away all feare, and to assure [ 35] herselfe vpon the vowe he made thereof vnto God, and her selfe, that the vtter∣most forces he would euer employ to conquere her affection, should be Desire, and Desert. That promise brought Philoclea againe to her selfe, so that slowly lif∣ting vp her eyes vpon him, with a countenaunce euer courteous, but then lan∣guishing, she tolde him, that he should do well to do so, if indeed he had euer tasted [ 40] what true loue was: for that where now she did beare him good will, she should (if he tooke any other way) hate, and abhor the very thought of him: assuring him withall, that though his mother had taken away her kniues, yet the house of Death had so many doores, as she would casilie flie into it, if euer she found her ho∣nor endaungered.

[ 45] Amphialus hauing the colde ashes of Care cast vpon the coales of Desire, lea∣uing some of his mothers Gentlewomen to waite vpon Philoclea, himselfe in∣deede a prisoner to his prisoner, and making all his authoritie to be but a foote∣stoole

to Humblenes, went from her to his mother. To whome with words which Affection endited, but Amazement vttered, he deliuered what had passed between him and Philoclea: beseeching her to trie what her perswasions could doo with her, while he gaue order for all such things as were necessarie against such forces, as he looked dayly Basilius would bring before his castle. His mother bad him quiet him [ 5] selfe, for she doubted not to take fit times. But that the best way was, first to let her owne Passion a little tire it selfe.

So they calling Clinias, and some other of their counsell, aduised vpon their pre∣sent affaires. First, he dispatched priuat letters to all those principall Lords and gen∣tlemen of the country, whom he thought ether alliance, or friendship to himselfe [ 10] might drawe; with speciall motions from the generall consideration of duetie: not omitting all such, whom either youthfull age, or youthlike mindes did fill with vn∣limited desires: besides such, whom any discontentment made hungry of change, or an ouer-spended want, made want a ciuill war: to each (according to the coun∣sell of his mother) conforming himselfe after their humors. To his friends, friend∣lines; [ 15] to the ambitious, great expectations; to the displeased, reuenge; to the gree∣die, spoile: wrapping their hopes with such cunning, as they rather seemed giuen ouer vnto them as partakers: then promises sprong of necessitie. Then sent he to his mothers brother, the king of Argos: but he was as then so ouer-laid with war him∣selfe, as from thence he could attend small succour. [ 20]

But because he knew how violently rumors doo blow the sailes of popular iudg∣ments, and how fewe there be that can discerne betweene truth and truthlikenes, betweene showes and substance; he caused a iustification of this his action to be written, wherof were sowed abroad many copies, which with some glosses of pro∣babilitie, might hide in deede the foulenes of his treason; and from true common∣places, [ 25] fetch downe most false applications. For, beginning how much the due∣tie which is owed to the countrie, goes beyond all other dueties, since in it selfe it conteines them all, and that for the respect therof, not onely all tender respectes of kinred, or whatsoeuer other friendshippes, are to be laide aside, but that euen long-helde opinions (rather builded vpon a secret of gouernement, then any [ 30] ground of truthe) are to be forsaken. He fell by degrees to shew, that since the ende whereto any thing is directed, is euer to be of more noble reckning, then the thing thereto directed: that therefore, the weale-publike was more to be regarded, then any person or magistrate that thereunto was ordained. The feeling consideration whereof, had moued him (though as nere of kinne to Basilius as could be, yet) to set [ 35] principally before his eyes, the good estate of so many thousands, ouer whom Basi∣lius raigned: rather then so to hoodwinke himselfe with affection, as to suffer the realme to runne to manifest ruine. The care w••ereof, did kindly appertaine to those who being subalterne magistrates and officers of the crowne, were to be employed as from the Prince, so for the people; and of all other, especiallie himselfe, who be∣ing [ 40] descended of the Royall race, and next heire male, Nature had no soner opened his eyes, but that the soyle where-upon they did looke, was to looke for at his hands a continuall carefulnes: which as from his childhood hee had euer caried; so now finding that his vncle had not only giuen ouer al care of gouernmēt, but had put it into the hands of Philanax, (a man neither in birth comparable to many, nor for his [ 45] corrupt, prowde, and partiall dealing, liked of any) but beside, had set his daugh∣ters (in whom the whole estate, as next heires thereunto, had no lesse interest then

himselfe) in so vnfit and il-guarded a place, as it was not only dangerous for their persons, but (if they should be conueied to any forraine country) to the whole common-wealth pernicious: that therefore he had brought them into this strong castle of his, which way, if it might seem strange, they were to consider, that new ne∣cessities [ 5] require new remedies: but there they should be serued and honored as be∣longed to their greatnes, vntill by the generall assembly of the estates, it should be determined how they should to their best (both priuate, and publique) aduantage be matched; vowing all faith & duty both to the father & children, neuer by him to be violated. But if in the meane time, before the estates could be assēbled, he should [ 10] be assailed, he would thē for his own defence take armes: desiring al, that either ten∣dred the dāgerous case of their country, or in their harts loued iustice, to defēd him in this iust actiō. And if the Prince should cōmaund them otherwise, yet to know, that therein he was no more to be obeied, then if he should call for poison to hurt himself withal: since all that was done, was done for his seruice, howsoeuer he might [ 15] (seduced by Philanax) interprete of it: he protesting, that whatsoeuer he should do for his owne defence, should be against Philanax, and no way against Basilius.

To this effect, amplified with arguments and examples, and painted with rheto∣ricall colours, did he sow abroad many discourses: which as they preuailed with some of more quicke then sounde conceipt, to runne his fortune with him; so in [ 20] many did it breed a coolenesse, to deale violently against him, and a false-minded neutralitie to expect the issue. But besides the waies he vsed to weaken the aduerse partie, he omitted nothing for the strengthning of his owne. The chiefe trust whereof (because he wanted men to keepe the field) he reposed in the suretie of his castle; which at lest would winne him much time, the mother of many muta∣tions. [ 25] To that therfore he bent both his outward and inward eyes, striuing to make Art striue with Nature, to whether of them two that fortification should be most beholding. The seat Nature bestowed, but Arte gaue the building: which as his rocky hardnesse would not yeeld to vndermining force, so to open assaults he tooke counsell of skill, how to make all approches, if not impossible, yet difficult; as well at [ 30] the foot of the castle, as round about the lake, to giue vnquiet lodgings to them, whome onely enmitie would make neighbors. Then omitted he nothing of de∣fence, as well simple defence, as that which did defend by offending, fitting instru∣ments of mischiefe to places, whence the mischiefe might be most liberally besto∣wed. Nether was his smallest care for victuals, as well for the prouiding that which [ 35] should suffice, both in store & goodnesse, as in well preseruing it, and wary distribu∣ting it, both in quantitie, and qualitie; spending that first which would keepe lest.

But wherein he sharpned his wits to the pearcingest point, was touching his men (knowing them to be the weapon of weapons, & master-spring (as it were) which makes all the rest to stir; and that therfore in the Arte of man stood the quintessence, [ 40] and ruling skill of all prosperous gouernment, either peaceable, or military) he chose in number as many as without pestring (and so daunger of infection) his victuall would serue for two yeare to maintaine; all of hable bodies, and some few of able mindes to direct, not seeking many commaunders, but contenting himselfe, that the multitude should haue obeying wittes, euery one knowing whom he [ 45] should commaund, and whom he should obey, the place where, and the matter wherein; distributing each office as neere as he could, to the disposition of the per∣son that should exercise it: knowing no loue, daunger, nor discipline can sodainly

alter an habite in nature. Therefore would he not employ the still man to a shifting practise, nor the liberall man to be a dispenser of his victuals, nor the kind-harted man to be a punisher: but would exercise their vertues in sorts, where they might be profitable, employing his chiefe care to know them all particularly, and through∣ly, regarding also the constitution of their bodies; some being able better to abide [ 5] watching, some hunger, some labour, making his benefit of ech hability, and not for∣cing beyond power. Time to euery thing by iust proportion he allotted, and as wel in that, as in euery thing els, no small errour winckt at, lest greater should be anima∣ted. Euen of vices he made his profite, making the cowardly Clinias to haue care of the watch, which he knew his own feare would make him very wakefully performe. [ 10] And before the siege began, he himselfe caused rumors to be sowed, and libels to be spread against himselfe, fuller of mallice, then witty persuasion: partly, to knowe those that would be apt to stumble at such motions, that he might cull them from the faithfuller band; but principally, because in necessitie they should not know when any such thing were in earnest attempted, whether it were, or not, of his owne [ 15] inuention. But euen then (before the enemies face came neere to breed any ter∣rour) did he exercise his men dayly in all their charges, as if Daunger had present∣ly presented his most hideous presence: him selfe rather instructing by example, then precept; being neither more sparing in trauaile, nor spending in diet, then the meanest souldier: his hand and body disdaining no base matters, nor shrinking [ 20] from the heauy.

The onely ods was, that when others tooke breath, he sighed; and when others rested, he crost his armes. For Loue passing thorow the pikes of Daunger, and tum∣bling it selfe in the dust of Labour, yet still made him remember his sweete desire, and beautifull image. Often when he had begun to commaund one, somewhat [ 25] before halfe the sentence were ended, his inward guest did so entertaine him, that he would breake it off, and a prettie while after end it, when he had (to the mar∣uaile of the standers by) sent himselfe in to talke with his own thoughts. Sometimes when his hand was lifted vp to do some thing, as if with the sight of Gorgons head he had bene sodainely turned into a stone, so would he there abide with his eyes plan∣ted, [ 30] and hand lifted, till at length, comming to the vse of himselfe, he would looke about whether any had perceiued him; then would he accuse, and in himselfe con∣demne all those wits, that durst affirme Idlenesse to be the well-spring of Loue. O, would he say, all you that affect the title of wisdome, by vngratefull scorning the or∣naments of Nature, am I now piping in a shaddow? or doo slouthfull feathers now [ 35] enwrap me? Is not hate before me, and doubt behinde me? is not daunger of the one side, and shame of the other? And doo I not stande vpon paine, and trauaile, and yet ouer all, my affection triumphes? The more I stirre about vrgent affaires, the more me thinks the very stirring breedes a breath to blow the coales of my loue: the more I exercise my thoughts, the more they encrease the appetite [ 40] of my desires. O sweet Philoclea (with that he would cast vp his eyes wherein some water did appeare, as if they would wash themselues against they should see her) thy heauenly face is my Astronomie; thy sweet vertue, my sweet Philosophie: let me profite therein, and farewell all other cogitations. But alas, my minde misgiues me, for your planets beare a contrarie aspect vnto me. Woe, woe is me, they threa∣ten [ 45] my destruction: and whom do they threaten this destruction? euen him that loues them; and by what meanes will they destroy, but by louing them? O deare

(though killing) eyes, shall death head his darte with the golde of Cupids arrowe? Shall death take his ayme from the rest of Beautie? O beloued (though hating Philoclea, how if thou beest mercifull, hath crueltie stolne into thee? Or how if thou beest cruell, doth crueltie looke more beautifull then euer Mercie did? Or [ 5] alas, is it my destinie that makes Mercie cruell? Like an euill vessell which turnes sweete licour to sowernes; so when thy grace falls vpon me, my wretched consti∣tution makes it become fiercenesse. Thus would he exercise his eloquence, when she could not heare him, and be dumbe-striken, when her presence gaue him fit oc∣casion of speaking: so that his witte could finde out no other refuge, but the com∣fort [ 10] and counsell of his mother, desiring her ( whose thoughts were vnperplexed) to vse for his sake the most preuailing manners of intercession.

She seing her sonnes safetie depende thereon, (though her pride much disdai∣ned the name of a desirer) tooke the charge vpon her, not doubting the easie con∣quest of an vnexpert virgin, who had alreadie with subtiltie and impudencie begun [ 15] to vndermine a monarchy. Therefore, waighing Philocleas resolutions by the coun∣terpease of her owne youthfull thoughts, which she then called to minde, she doubted not at least to make Philoclea receiue the poyson distilled in sweete li∣quour, which she with little disguising had drunke vp thirstily. Therefore she went softly to Philocleas chamber, and peeping through the side of the doore, then being [ 20] a little open, she sawe Philoclea sitting lowe vpon a cushion, in such a giuen-ouer manner, that one would haue thought, silence, solitarinesse, and melancholie were come there, vnder the ensigne of mishap, to conquere delight, and driue him from his naturall seate of beautie: her teares came dropping downe like raine in Sun∣shine, and she not taking heede to wipe the teares, they hoong vpon her cheekes, [ 25] and lips, as vpon cherries which the dropping tree bedeweth. In the dressing of her haire and apparell, she might see neither a carefull arte, nor an arte of carelesnesse, but euen left to a neglected chaunce, which yet could no more vnperfect her per∣fections, then a Die anie way cast, could loose his squarenesse.

Cecropia (stirred with no other pitie, but for her sonne) came in, and haling kind∣nesse [ 30] into her countenance, What ayles this sweet Ladie, (said she) will you marre so good eyes with weeping? shall teares take away the beautie of that complexion, which the women of Arcadia wish for, and the men long after? Fie of this peeuish sadnesse; in sooth it is vntimely for your age. Looke vpon your owne bodie, and see whether it deserue to pine away with sorrow: see whether you will haue these [ 35] hands (with that she tooke one of her hands and kissing it, looked vppon it as if she were enamoured with it) fade from their whitenesse, which makes one desire to touch them; and their softnesse, which rebounds againe a desire to looke on them, and become drie, leane and yellow, and make euerie bodie woonder at the chaunge, and say, that sure you had vsed some arte before, which now you had [ 40] left? for if the beauties had beene naturall, they would neuer so soone haue beene blemished. Take a glasse, and see whether these teares become your eies: al∣though, I must confesse, those eies are able to make teares comely. Alas Madame (answered Philoclea) I know not whether my teares become mine eyes, but I am sure mine eies thus beteared, become my fortune. Your fortune (saide Cecropia) if [ 45] she could see to attire herselfe, would put on her best raiments. For I see, and I see it with griefe, and (to tell you true) vnkindnes: you misconster euery thing, that only for your sake is attempted. You thinke you are offended and are indeed de∣fended:

you esteeme your selfe a prisoner, and are in truth a mistres: you feare hate, and shall finde loue. And truely, I had a thing to say to you, but it is no matter, since I finde you are so obstinatly melancholy, as that you woo his felowship: I will spare my paines, and hold my peace: And so staied indeede, thinking Philoclea would haue had a female inquisitiuenesse of the matter. But she, who rather wished to vn∣know [ 5] what she knewe, then to burden her hart with more hopeles knowledge, only desired her to haue pity of her, and if indeed she did meane her no hurt, then to graunt her liberty: for else the very griefe and feare, would proue her vnappointed executioners. For that (said Cecropia) beleue me vpon the faith of a kings daughter, you shall be free, so soone as your freedome may be free of mortall danger, being [ 10] brought hither for no other cause, but to preuent such mischiefes as you know not of. But if you thinke indeed to winne me to haue care of you, euen as of mine owne daughter, then lend your eares vnto me, and let not your mind arme it selfe with a wilfulnesse to be flexible to nothing. But if I speake reason, let Reason haue his due reward, persuasion. Then sweet neece (said she) I pray you presuppose, that now, [ 15] euen in the midst of your agonies, which you paint vnto your selfe most horrible, wishing with sighes, and praying with vowes, for a soone and safe deliuerie. Imagin neece (I say) that some heauenly spirit should appeare vnto you, and bid you fol∣low him through the doore, that goes into the garden, assuring you, that you should therby returne to your deare mother, and what other delights soeuer your minde e∣steemes [ 20] delights: would you (sweet neece) would you refuse to folow him, and say, that if he led you not through the chiefe gate, you would not enioy your ouer-de∣sired liberty? Would you not drink the wine you thirst for, without it were in such a glasse, as you especially fancied? tell me (deare neece:) but I will answer for you, because I know your reason & wit is such, as must needs cōclude, that such nicenesse [ 25] can no more be in you, to disgrace such a mind, then disgracefulnesse can haue any place in so faultles a beauty. Your wisdom would assuredly determin, how the mark were hit, not whether the bow were of Ewe or no, wherein you shot. If this be so, & thus sure (my deare neece) it is, then (I pray you) imagin, that I am that same good Angel, who grieuing in your griefe, and in truth not able to suffer, that bitter sighs [ 30] should be sent foorth with so sweet a breath, am come to lead you, not only to your desired, and imagined happines, but to a true and essentiall happines; not only to li∣berty, but to libertie with commandement. The way I will shew you (which if it be not the gate builded hitherto in your priuate choise, yet shall it be a doore to bring you through a garden of pleasures, as sweet as this life can bring foorth; nay rather, [ 35] which makes this life to be a life: (My son,) let it be no blemish to him that I name him my son, who was your fathers own nephew: for you know I am no small kings daughter,) my sonne (I say) farre passing ••he neernesse of his kinred, with neernesse of good-will, and striuing to match your matchlesse beautie with a matchlesse affe∣ction, doth by me present vnto you the full enioying of your liberty, so as with this [ 40] gift you will accept a greater, which is, this castell, with all the rest which you knowe he hath, in honorable quantitie; and will cōfirme his gift, and your receipt of both, with accepting him to be yours. I might say much both for the person and the matter; but who will crie out the Sun shines? It is so manifest a profit vnto you, as the meanest iudgement must straight apprehend it: so farre is it from the sharpnesse [ 45] of yours, therof to be ignorant. Therfore (sweet neece) let your gratefulnes be my intercession, and your gentlenesse my eloquence, and let me cary comfort to a hart

which greatly needs it. Philoclea looked vpon her, and cast downe her eie againe. Aunt (said she) I would I could be so much a mistres of my owne mind, as to yeeld to my cousins vertuous request: for so I construe of it. But my hart is already set (and staying a while on that word, she brought foorth afterwards) to leade a virgins life [ 5] to my death: for such a vow I haue in my selfe deuoutly made. The heauens pre∣uent such a mischiefe (said Cecropia.) A vowe, quoth you? no, no, my deere neece, Nature, whē you were first borne, vowed you a woman, and as she made you child of a mother, so to do your best to be mother of a child: she gaue you beautie to moue loue; she gaue you wit to know loue; she gaue you an excellent body to re∣ward [ 10] loue: which kind of liberall rewarding is crowned with an vnspeakable felici∣tie. For this, as it bindeth the receiuer, so it makes happy the bestower: this doth not impouerish, but enrich the giuer. O the sweet name of a mother: O the comfort of comforts, to see your children grow vp, in whom you are (as it were) eternized: if you could conceiue what a hart-tickling ioy it is to see your owne litle ones, with [ 15] awfull loue come running to your lap, & like litle models of your selfe, still cary you about them, you would think vnkindnes in your owne thoughts, that euer they did rebel against the mean vnto it. But perchāce I set this blessednes before your eies, as Captains do victorie before their souldiers, to which they must come through ma∣ny paines, grieues & dangers. No, I am cōtent you shrinke frō this my counsel, if the [ 20] way to come vnto it, be not most of all pleasant. I know not (answered the sweet Philoclea, fearing least silence would offend for sullennes) what contentment you speake of: but I am sure the best you can make of it, (which is mariage) is a burde∣nous yoke. Ah, deere neece (said Cecropia) how much you are deceiued? A yoke in∣deed we all beare, laid vpō vs in our creation, which by mariage is not increased, but [ 25] thus far eased, that you haue a yokefellow to help to draw through the cloddy cum∣bers of this world. O widow-nights, beare witnes with me of the difference. How often alas do I embrace the orfan-side of my bed, which was wont to be imprinted by the body of my deare husband, and with teares acknowledge, that I now enioy such a liberty as the banished mā hath; who may, if he list, wāder ouer the world, but [ 30] is for euer restrained frō his most delightful home? that I haue now such a liberty as the seeled doue hath, which being first depriued of eies, is thē by th•• falconer cast off? For beleue me, neece, beleue me, mans experiēce is womās best eie-sight. Haue you euer seene a pure Rosewater kept in a christal glas? how fine it lokes? how sweet it smels, while that beautifull glasse imprisons it? Breake the prison, and let the water [ 35] take his owne course, doth it not imbrace dust, and loose all his former sweetnesse, & fairenesse? Truly so are we, if we haue not the stay, rather then the restraint of Cri∣stalline mariage. My hart melts to thinke of the sweet comforts, I in that happy time receiued, when I had neuer cause to care, but the care was doubled: when I neuer reioiced, but that I saw my ioy shine in anothers eies. What shall I say of the free de∣light, [ 40] which the hart might embrace, without the accusing of the inward conscicēe, or feare of outward shame? and is a solitary life as good as this? then can one string make as good musicke as a consort: then can one colour set forth a beautie. But it may be, the generall consideration of mariage doth not so much mislike you, as the applying of it to him. He is my sonne, I must confesse, I see him with a mothers eyes, [ 45] which if they doo not much deceiue me, he is no such one, ouer whom Contempt may make any iust chalenge. He is comely, he is noble, he is rich; but that which in it selfe should carie all comelinesse, nobilitie, and riches, he loues you; and he loues

you, who is beloued of others. Driue not away his affection (sweete Ladie) and make no other Ladie hereafter proudly bragge, that she hath robbed you of so faith∣full and notable a seruant. Philoclea heard some pieces of her speches, no otherwise then one doth when a tedious pratler combers the hearing of a delightfull musicke. For her thoughts had left her eares in that captiuitie, and conueied themselues to [ 5] behold (with such eies as imagination could lend them) the estate of her Zelmane: for whome how well she thought many of those sayings might haue ben vsed with a farre more gratefull acceptation. Therfore listing not to dispute in a matter where∣of her selfe was resolued, and desired not to enforme the other, she onely told her, that whilest she was so captiued, she could not conceiue of any such persuasions [ 10] (though neuer so reasonable) any otherwise, then as constraints: and as constraints must needs euen in nature abhor them, which at her libertie, in their owne force of reason, might more preuaile with her: and so faine would haue returned the strength of Cecropias perswasions, to haue procured freedome.

But neither her wittie words in an enemie, nor those words, made more then [ 15] eloquent with passing through such lips, could preuaile in Cecropia, no more then her perswasions could winne Philoclea to disauowe her former vowe, or to leaue the prisoner Zelmane, for the commaunding Amphialus. So that both sides being de∣sirous, and neither graunters, they brake off conference. Cecropia sucking vp more and more spite out of her deniall, which yet for her sonnes sake, she disguised [ 20] with a visarde of kindnes, leauing no office vnperfourmed, which might either witnes, or endeare her sonnes affection. Whatsoeuer could be imagined likely to please her, was with liberall diligence perfourmed: Musickes at her windowe, and especially such Musickes, as might (with dolefull embassage) call the mind to thinke of sorow, and thinke of it with sweetnes; with ditties so sensiblie expressing Am∣phialus [ 25] case, that euerie word seemed to be but a diuersifying of the name of Am∣phialus. Daily presents, as it were oblations, to pacifie an angrie Deitie, sent vnto her: wherein, if the workmanship of the forme, had striuen with the sumptuous∣nes of the matter, as much did the inuention in the application, contende to haue the chiefe excellencie: for they were as so many stories of his disgraces, and her per∣fections; [ 30] whe••e the richnes did inuite the eyes, the fashion did entertaine the eyes, and the deuice did teach the eyes, the present miserie of the presenter him∣selfe awefully seruiceable: which was the more notable, as his authoritie was ma∣nifest. And for the bondage wherein she liued, all meanes vsed to make knowen, that if it were a bondage, it was a bondage onely knitte in loue-knots: but in harte [ 35] alreadie vnderstanding no language but one. The Musicke wrought indeede a dolefulnes, but it was a dolefulnes to be in his power: the dittie intended for Am∣phialus, she translated to Zelmane: the presents seemed so many tedious clogs of a thralled obligation: and his seruice, the more diligent it was, the more it did ex∣probrate (as she thought) vnto her, her vnworthie estate: that euen he that did [ 40] her seruice, had authoritie of commanding her, onely construing her seruitude in his owne nature, esteeming it a right, and a right bitter seruitude: so that all their shots (how well soeuer leuelled) being carried awrie from the marke, by the storme of her mislike, the Prince Amphialus affectionately languished, and Cecropia spite∣fullie cunning, disdained at the barrennes of their successe. [ 45]

Which willingly Cecropia would haue reuenged, but that she saw, her hurt could not be diuided from her sonnes mischiefe: wherefore, she bethought her selfe

to attempt Pamela, whose beautie being equall, she hoped, if shee might bee woon•• that her sonnes thoughtes would rather rest on a beautifull gratefulnes, then still be tormented with a disdaining beautie. Therefore, giuing new courage to her wic∣ked inuentions, and vsing the more industry, because she had mist in this, and taking [ 5] euen precepts of preuailing in Pamela, by her fayling in Philoclea, shee went to her chamber, and (according to her owne vngratious method of subtile proceeding) stood listning at the dore, because that out of the circumstance of her present beha∣uiour, there might kindly arise a fitte beginning of her intended discourse.

And so shee might perceaue that Pamela did walke vp and downe, full of deepe [ 10] (though patient) thoughts. For her look and countenance was setled, her pace soft and almost still of one measure, without any passionate gesture, or violent motion: till at length (as it were) awaking, and strengthning her selfe, Well (said she) yet this is, the best, and of this I am sure, that how soeuer they wrong me, they cannot ouer-master God. No darkenes blinds his eyes, no Iayle barres him out. To whom [ 15] then else should I flie, but to him for succoure? And therewith kneeling downe, e∣uen where she stood, she thus said. O all-seeing Light, and eternall Life of al things to whom nothing is either so great, that it may resist; or so small, that it is contem∣ned: looke vpon my miserie with thine eye of mercie, and let thine infinite power vouchsafe to limite out some proportiō of deliuerance vnto me, as to thee shal seem [ 20] most conuenient. Let not iniurie, ô Lord, triumphe ouer me, and let my faultes by thy hande be corrected, and make not mine vniuste enemie the minister of thy Ius∣tice. But yet, my God, if in thy wisdome, this be the aptest chastizement for my vn∣excuseable follie; if this low bondage bee fittest for my ouer-hie desires; if the pride of my not-inough humble harte, bee thus to bee broken, O Lorde, I yeeld vnto thy [ 25] will, and ioyfully embrace what sorrow thou wilt haue me suffer. Onely thus much let me craue of thee, (let my crauing, ô Lord, be accepted of thee, since euen that proceedes from thee) let mee craue, euen by the noblest title, which in my greatest affliction I may giue my selfe, that I am thy creature, and by thy goodnes (which is [ 30] thy selfe) that thou wilt suffer some beame of thy Maiestie so to shine into my mind, that it may still depende confidently vpon thee. Let calamitie bee the exercise, but not the ouerthrowe of my vertue: let their power preuaile, but preuaile not to de∣struction: let my greatnes be their praie: let my paine bee the sweetnes of their re∣uenge: let them (if so it seem good vnto thee) vexe me with more and more punish∣ment. [ 35] But, ô Lord, let neuer their wickednes haue such a hand, but that I may carie a pure minde in a pure bodie. (And pausing a while) And ô most gracious Lorde (said she) what euer become of me, preserue the vertuous Musidorus.

The other parte Cecropia might well heare, but this latter prayer for Musidorus, her hart helde it, as so iewel-like a treasure, that it woulde scarce trust her owne lippes withall. But this prayer, sent to heauen, from so heauenly a creature, with such a fer∣uent [ 40] grace, as if Deuotion had borowed her bodie, to make of it selfe a most beau∣tifull representation; with her eyes so lifted to the skie-ward, that one woulde haue thought they had begunne to flie thetherwarde, to take their place among their fel∣low starres; her naked hands raising vp their whole length, and as it were kissing one another, as if the right had ben the picture of Zeale, and the left, of Humblenesse, which [ 45] both vnited themselues to make their suites more acceptable. Lastly, all her senses being rather tokens then instruments of her inwarde motions, altogether had so straunge a working power, that euen the harde-harted wickednesse of Cecropia, if it

founde not a loue of that goodnes, yet it felt an abashment at that goodnes; and if she had not a kindly remorse, yet had she an yrksome accusation of her own naugh∣tines, so that she was put from the biasle of her fore-intended lesson. For well shee found there was no way at that time to take that mind, but with some, at lest, image of Vertue, and what the figure thereof was her hart knew not. [ 5]

Yet did she prodigally spend her vttermost eloquence, leauing no argument vn∣proued, which might with any force inuade her excellent iudgement: the iustnes of the request being, but for marriage; the worthinesse of the suiter: then her owne present fortune, which shoulde not onely haue amendment, but felicitie: besides falsely making her belieue, that her sister would thinke her selfe happie, if now shee [ 10] might haue his loue which before shee contemned: and obliquely touching, what daunger it should be for her, if her sonne should accept Philoclea in marriage, and so match the next heire apparant, shee being in his powre: yet plentifully periuring how extreamely her sonne loued her, and excusing the little shewes hee made of it, with the duetifull respect he bare vnto her, and taking vpon her selfe that she restray∣ned [ 15] him, since shee found shee could set no limits to his passions. And as shee did to Philoclea, so did she to her, with the tribute of gifts, seeke to bring her mind into ser∣uitude: and all other meanes, that might either establish a beholdingnesse, or at lest awake a kindnes; doing it so, as by reason of their imprisonment, one sister knew not how the other was wooed; but each might thinke, that onely shee was sought. [ 20] But if Philoclea with sweet and humble dealing did auoid their assaults, she with the Maiestie of Vertue did beate them of.

But this day their speach was the sooner broken of, by reason that he, who stood as watche vpon the top of the keepe, did not onely see a great dust arise (which the earth sent vp, as if it would striue to haue clowdes as well as the aire) but might spie [ 25] sometimes, especially when the dust (wherein the naked winde did apparaile, it selfe) was caried a side from them, the shining of armour; like flashing of lightning, wherewith the clowdes did seeme to bee with childe; which the Sunne guilding with his beames, it gaue a sight delightfull to any, but to them that were to abide the terrour. But the watch gaue a quicke Alarum to the souldiers within, [ 30] whome practise already hauing prepared, began each, with vnabashed hartes or at lest countenaunces, to looke to their charge, or obedience, which was allotted vnto them.

Onely Clinias and Amphialus did exceed the bounds of mediocrity: the one in his naturall coldnesse of cowardise, the other in heate of courage. For Clinias (who [ 35] was bold onely in busie whisperings, and euen in that whisperingnes rather indeede confident in his cunning, that it should not bee bewraied, then any way bolde, if euer it should bee bewrayed) now that the enemy gaue a dreadfull aspect vnto the castle, his eyes saw no terror, nor eare heard any martiall sounde, but that they mul∣tiplied the hideousnesse of it to his mated minde. Before their comming he had ma∣ny [ 40] times felt a dreadfull expectation, but yet his minde (that was willing to ease it selfe of the burden offeare) did somtime ••aine vnto it selfe possibilitie of let; as the death of Basilius, the discord of the nobilitie, and (when other cause fayled him) the nature of chaunce serued as a cause vnto him: and sometimes the hearing other men speake valiantly, and the quietnesse of his vnassailed senses, woulde make him∣selfe [ 45] beleue, that hee durst doo something. But now, that present daunger did

display it selfe vnto his eye, and that a daungerous dooing must be the onely meane to preuent the danger of suffering, one that had marked him woulde haue iudged, that his eies would haue run into him, and his soule out of him; so vnkindly did ei∣ther take a sent of daunger. He thought the lake was too shallow, and the walles too [ 5] thin: he misdouted ech mans treason, and coniectured euery possibilitie of misfor∣tune, not onely fore-casting likely perils, but such as all the planets together coulde scarcely haue conspired: and already began to arme him selfe, though it was determi∣ned he should tarrie within doores; and while he armed himselfe, imagined in what part of the vault he would hide himselfe, if the enimies wonne the castle. Desirous he was that euery body should do valiantly, but himselfe; and therefore was afraid to [ 10] shew his feare, but for very feare would haue hid his feare; lest it shoulde discomfort others: but the more he sought to disguize it, the more the vnsutablenes of a weake broken voice to high braue wordes, and of a pale shaking countenance to a gesture of animating did discouer him.

But quite contrarily Amphialus, who before the enimies came was carefull, proui∣dently [ 15] diligent, & not somtimes with out doubting of the issue; now the nearer dan∣ger approched (like the light of a glow-worme) the lesse still it seemed: and now his courage began to boile in choler, and with such impatience to desire to powre out both vpon the enimie, that he issued presently into certaine boates he had of purpose and carying with him some choise men, went to the fortresse he had vpon the edge [ 20] of the lake, which hee thought would bee the first thing, that the enimy woulde at∣tempt; because it was a passage, which commanding all that side of the country, and being lost would stop victuall, or other supply, that might be brought into the castle & in that fortresse hauing some force of horsemen, he issued out with two hundred [ 25] horse, & fiue hundred footmen, embushed his footmen in the falling of a hill, which was ouer shadowed with a wood, he with his horsmen went a quarter of a mile fur∣ther; aside hand of which he might perceaue the many troupes of the enimie, who came but to take view where best to encampe themselues.

But as if the sight of the enimie had bene a Magnes stone to his courage he could not containe himselfe, but shewing his face to the enimie, and his backe to his soul∣diers, [ 30] vsed that action, as his onely oration, both of denouncing warre to the one and perswading help of the other. Who faithfully following an example of such au∣thoritie, they made the earth to grone vnder their furious burden, and the enimies to begin to be angry with them, whom in particular they knew not. Among whom there was a young man, youngest brother to Philanax, whose face as yet did notbe∣wray [ 35] his sex, with so much as shew of haire; of a minde hauing no limits of hope, nor knowing why to feare; full of iollitie in conuersation, and lately growne a Lo∣uer. His name was Agenor, of all that armie the most beautifull: who hauing ridden in sportfull conuersation among the foremost, all armed sauing that his beauer was vp, to haue his breath in more freedome, seing Amphialus come a pretty way before [ 40] his cōpany, neither staying the commaundement of the captaine, nor recking whe∣ther his face were armed, or no, set spurs to his horse, and with youthfull brauerie casting his staffe about his head, put it then in his rest, as carefull of comely carying it, as if the marke had beene but a ring, and the lookers on Ladies, But Amphialus [ 45] launce was already come to the last of his descending line, and began to make the ful point of death against the head of this young Gentleman, when Amphialus percey∣uing his youth and beautie, Compassion so rebated the edge of Choller, that hee

spared that faire nakednesse, and let his staffe fal to Agenors vampalt: so as both with braue breaking should hurtleslie haue perfourmed that match, but that the pittilesse launce of Amphialus (angry with being broken) with an vnlucky counterbuffe ful of vnsparing splinters, lighted vpon that face farre fitter for the combats of Venus; ge∣uing not onely a suddaine, but a fowle death, leauing scarsely any tokens of his for∣mer [ 5] beautie: but his hands abandoning the reynes, and his thighes the saddle, hee fell sidewarde from the horse. Which sight comming to Leontius, a deere friende of his, who in vaine had lamentably cried vnto him to stay, when he saw him beginne his careere, it was harde to say, whether pittie of the one, or reuenge against the o∣ther, helde as then the soueraigntie in his passions. But while hee directed his eye to [ 10] his friende, and his hinde to his enimie, so worngly-consorted a power coulde not resist the ready minded force of Amphialus: who perceyuing his il-directed direction against him, so paide him his debt before it was lent, that hee also fell to the earth onely happy that one place, and one time, did finish both their Loues and liues to∣gether. [ 15]

But by this time there had bene a furious meeting of either side: where after the terrible salutation of warlike noyse, the shaking of handes was with sharpe weapons: some launces according to the mettall they mett, and skill of the guider, did staine themselues in bloud; some flew vp in pieces, as if they would threaten heauen, be∣cause they fayled on earth•• But their office was quickly inherited, either by (the [ 20] Prince of weapons) the sworde, or by some heauy mase, or biting axe; which hun∣ting still the weakest chase, sought euer to light there, wher smallest resistance might worse preuent mischiefe. The clashing of armour, and crushing of staues; the iust∣ling of bodies, the resounding of blowes, was the first parte of that ill-agreeing mu∣sicke, which was beautified with the griselinesse of woundes, the rising of dust; the [ 25] hideous falles, and grones of the dying. The very horses angrie in their masters an∣ger, with loue and obedience brought foorth the effects of hate and resistance, and with minds of seruitude, did as if they affected glorie. Some lay deade vnder their dead maisters, whome vnknightly wounds had vniustly punished for a faithfull du∣tie, Some lay vppon their Lordes by like accidents, and in death had the honour to [ 30] be borne by them, whom in life they had borne. Some hauing lost their commaun∣ding burthens, ranne scattered about the fielde, abashed with the madnesse of man∣kinde. The earth it selfe woont to be a buriall of men) was nowe (as it were) buried with men: so was the face thereof hidden with deade bodies, to whom Death hade come masked in diuerse manners. In one place lay disinherited heades, dispossessed [ 35] of their naturall seignories: in an other, whole bodies to see to, but that their hartes wont to be bound all ouer so close, were nowe with deadly violence opened: in o∣thers, fowler deaths had ouglily displayed their trayling guttes. There lay armes, whose fingers yet mooued, as if they would feele for him that made them feele: and legges, which contrarie to common reason, by being discharged of their burden, [ 40] were growne heauier. But no sword payed so large a tribute of soules to the eternall Kingdome, as that of Amphialus, who like a Tigre, from whome a companie of Woolues did seeke, to rauish a newe gotten pray; so he (remembring they came to take away Philoclea) did labour to make valure, strength, choller and hatred, to an∣swere the proportion of his loue, which was infinit. [ 45]

There died of his handes the olde knight AEschylus, who though by yeares might well haue beene allowed to vse rather the exercises of wisedome, then of courage;

yet hauing a lustie bodie and a merrie hart, he euer tooke the summons of Time in iest, or else it had so creepingly stollen vpon him, that he had heard scarcely the noise of his feete, and therefore was as fresh in apparell, and as forwarde in enterprises, as a farre yonger man: but nothing made him bolder, then a certaine prophecie had [ 5] beene tolde him, that he shoulde die in the armes of his sonne, and therefore feared the lesse the arme of an enemie. But now when Amphialus sword was passed through his throate, he thought himselfe abused; but that before he died, his sonne, indeede seeing his father beginne to fall, helde him vp in his armes, till a pitilesse souldier of of the other side, with a mace brained him, making father & sonne become twinnes [ 10] in the neuer againe dying birth. As for Drialus. Memnon, Nisus and Policrates; the first had his eyes cut out so, as he could not see to bid the neare following death wel∣come: the seconde had met with the same Prophet that olde AEschylus had, and ha∣uing founde many of his speeches true, beleeued this to, that hee should neuer bee killed, but by his owne companions: and therefore no man was more valiant then [ 15] he against an enimie, no man more suspicious of his friends: so as he seemed to sleep in securitie, when he went to a battell, and to enter into a battaile, when he began to sleepe, such guards he would set about his person; yet mistrusting those verie guards lest they would murther him. But now Amphialus helped to vnriddle his doubtes; for he ouerthrowing him from his horse, his owne companions comming with a [ 20] fresh supplie, pressed him to death. Nisus grasping with Amphialus, was with a short dagger slaine. And for Policrates, while hee shunned as much as hee could, keeping onely his place for feare of punishment, Amphialus with a memorable blowe strake of his head, where, with the conuulsions of death setting his spurres to his horse, he gaue so braue a charge vpon the enemie, as it grewe a prouerbe, that Policrates was [ 25] onely valiant, after his head was off. But no man escaped so well his handes as Phe∣bilus did: for hee hauing long loued Philoclea, though for the meannesse of his estate he neuer durst reueale it, nowe knowing Amphialus, setting the edge of a riuall vpon the sworde of an enemie, he helde strong fight with him. But Amphialus had already in the daungerousest places disarmed him, and was lifting vp his sworde to send him [ 30] away from himselfe, when he thinking indeede to die, O Philoclea (said he) yet this ioyes mee, that I die for thy sake. The name of Philoclea first staied his sworde, and when he heard him out, though heabhord him much worse then before, yet could he not vouchsafe him the honour of dying for Philoclea, but turned his sworde ano∣ther way, doing him no hurt for ouer-much hatred. But what good did that to [ 35] poore Phebilus, if escaping a valiant hand, hee was slaine by base souldiour, who see∣ing him so disarmed, thrust him through?

But thus with the well-followed valure of Amphialus were the other almost ouer∣throwne, when Philanax (who was the marshall of the army) came in, with newe force renuing the almost decayed courage of his souldiers. For, crying to them (and [ 40] asking them whether their backes or their armes were better fighters) hee himselfe thrust into the presse, and making force and furie waite vppon discretion and go∣uernement, he might seeme a braue Lion who taught his yong Lionets, how in ta∣king of a pray, to ioine courage with cunning. Then Fortune (as if shee had made chases inow of the one side of that bloody Teniscourt) went of the other side the [ 45] line, making as many fall downe of Amphialus followers, as before had done of Phi∣lanaxis, they loosing the ground, as fast as before they had woon it, onely leauing them to keepe it, who had lost themselues in keeping it. Then those that had killed,

inherited the lot of those that had bene killed; and cruel Deaths made them lie qui∣etly to gether, who most in their liues had sought to disquiet ech other; and many of those first ouerthrowne, had the comfort to see the murtherers ouerrun them to Charons ferrie.

Codrus, Ctesiphon, and Milo, lost their liues vpon Philanax his sword: but no bodies [ 5] case was more pitied, then of a yong esquire of Amphialus, called Ismenus, who ne∣uer abandoning his maister, and making his tender age aspire to actes of the stron∣gest manhoode, in this time that his side was put to the worst, and that Amphialus-his valure was the onely stay of them from deliuering themselues ouer to a shame∣full flight, hee sawe his masters horse killed vnder him. Whereupon, asking no ad∣uise [ 10] of no thought, but of faithfulnes and courage, he presently lighted from his owne horse, and with the helpe of some choise and faithfull seruants, gat his ma∣ster vp. But in the multitude that came of either side, some to succour, some to saue Amphialus, hee came vnder the the hande of Philanax: and the youth perceyuing he was the man that did most hurt to his partie, (desirous euen to change his life sor [ 15] glorie) strake at him, as hee rode by him, and gaue him a hurt vpon the legg, that made Philanax turn towards him; but seing him so yong, and of a most louely pre∣sence, he rather toke pity of him; meaning to make him prisoner, & then to giue him to his brother Agenor to be his companion, because they were not much vnlike, nei∣ther in yeeres, nor countenance. But as he loked down vpon him with that thought [ 20] he spied wher his brother lay dead, & his friend Leontius by him, euen almost vnder the squiers feet. Then soroing not only his owne sorow, but the past-comfort sorow which he fore-knew his mother would take, (who with many teares, and misgiuing sighs had suffred him to go with his elder brother Philanax) blotted out all figures of pitie out of his minde, and putting foorth his horse (while Ismenus doubled two [ 25] or three more valiant, then well set blowes) saying to himselfe, Let other mothers bewaile and vntimely death as well as mine; hee thrust him through. And the boy fearce though beautifull; & beautifull, though dying, not able to keepe his failinge feete, fell downe to the earth, which he bit for anger, repining at his Fortune, and as long as he could resisting Death, which might seeme vnwilling to; so long he was in [ 30] taking away his yong struggling soule.

Philanax himselfe could haue wished the blow vngiuen, when hee saw him fall like a faire apple, which some vncourteous bodie (breaking his bowe) should throw downe before it were ripe. But the case of his brother made him forget both that, and himselfe: so as ouerhastily pressing vpon the retiring enemies, hee was (ere hee [ 35] was aware) further engaged then his owne souldiers could relieue him; where be∣ing ouerthrowne by Amphialus, Amphialus glad of him, kept head aginst his enemies while some of his men caried away Philanax.

But Philanax-his men as if with the losse of Philanax they had lost the fountaine of their valure, had their courages so dried vp in feare; that they began to set ho∣nour [ 40] at their backs, and to vse the vertue of pacience in an vntimely time: when into the presse comes (as hard as his horse, more afraied of the spurre, then the sworde coulde carie him) a Knight in armor as darke as blacknes coulde make it, followed by none, and adorned by nothing; so far without authoritie that hee was without knowledge, But vertue quickly made him knowne, and admiration bred him such [ 45] authoritie, that though they of whose side he came knew him not, yet they all knew it was fitte to obey him: and while he was followed by the valiantest, hee made way

for the vilest. For, taking part with the besiegers, he made the Amphialians bloud serue for a caparison to his horse, and a decking to his armour. His arme no oftner gaue blowes, then the blowes gaue wounds, then the wounds gaue deathes: so terrible was his force, and yet was his quicknes more forcible then his force, and his [ 5] iudgement more quick then his quicknes. For though his sword went faster then eyesight could follow it, yet his owne iudgement went still before it. There died of his hand, Sarpedon, Plistonax, Strophilus, and Hippolitus, men of great proofe in warres, and who had that day vndertaken the guard of Amphialus. But while they sought to saue him, they lost the fortresses that Nature had placed them in. Then [ 10] slew he Megalus, who was a little before proude, to see himselfe stained in the bloud of his enemies: but when his owne bloud came to be married to theirs, he then felt, that Crueltie dooth neuer enioy a good cheape glorie. After him sent he Pa∣lemon, who had that daye vowed (with foolish brauerie) to be the death of tenne: and nine already he had killed, and was careful to performe his (almost performed) [ 15] vowe, when the Blacke Knight helpt him to make vp the tenth himselfe.

And now the often-changing Fortune began also to chaunge the hewe of the battailes. For at the first, though it were terrible, yet Terror was deckt so brauelie with rich furniture, guilt swords, shining armours, pleasant pensils, that the eye with delight had scarce leasure to be afraide: But now all vniuersally defiled with [ 20] dust, bloud, broken armours, mangled bodies, tooke away the maske, and sette foorth Horror in his owne horrible manner. But neither could danger be dread∣full to Amphialus his vndismayable courage, nor yet seeme o••gly to him, whose truely-affected minde, did still paint it ouer with the beautie of Philoclea. And therefore he, rather enflamed then troubled with the encrease of dangers, and glad [ 25] to finde a woorthie subiect to exercise his courage, sought out this newe Knight, whom he might easilie finde: for he, like a wanton rich man, that throwes downe his neighbours houses, to make himselfe the better prospecte, so had his sworde made him so spatious a roome, that Amphialus had more cause to wonder at the finding, then labour for the seeking: which, if it stirred hate in him, to see [ 30] how much harme he did to the one side, it prouoked as much emulation in him, to perceaue how much good he did to the other side. Therefore, they approa∣ching one to the other, as in two beautifull folkes, Loue naturally stirres a desire of ioyning, so in their two courages Hate stirred a desire of triall. Then began there a combatte betweene them, worthy to haue had more large listes, and [ 35] more quiet beholders: for with the spurre of Courage, and the bitte of Respect, each so guided himselfe, that one might well see, the desire to ouercome, made them not forget how to ouercome: in such time and proportion they did employ their blowes, that none of Ceres seruaunts could more cunningly place his flaile: while the left foote spurre set forward his owne horse, the right set backward the [ 40] contrarie horse, euen sometimes by the aduauntage of the enemies legge, while the left hande (like him that helde the sterne) guyded the horses obedient cou∣rage: All done in such order, that it might seeme, the minde was a right Prince indeede, who sent wise and diligent Lieutenants into each of those well gouerned partes. But the more they fought, the more they desired to fight; and the more [ 45] they smarted, the lesse they felte the smarte: and now were like to make a quicke proofe, to whome Fortune or Valour would seeme most friendly, when in comes an olde Gouernour of Amphialus, alwayes a good Knight, and carefull

of his charge; who giuing a sore wound to the blacke Knights thigh, while he thought not of him, with an other blowe slewe his horse vnder him. Amphialus cried to him, that he dishonoured him: You say well (answered the olde Knight) to stand now like a priuate souldier, setting your credite vpon particular fighting, while you may see Basilius with all his hoste, is getting betweene you and your [ 5] towne. He looked that way, and found that true indeede, that the enemie was beginning to encompasse him about, and stoppe his returne: and therefore causing the retreite to be sounded, his Gouernour ledde his men homeward, while hee kept himselfe still hindmost, as if hee had stoode at the gate of a sluse, to let the streame goe, with such proportion, as should seeme good vnto him: and with [ 10] so manfull discretion perfourmed it, that (though with losse of many of his men) he returned in him selfe safe, and content, that his enemies had felte, how sharpe the sworde could bite of Philocleas Louer. The other partie being sorie for the losse of Philanax, was yet sorrier when the blacke Knight could not be found. For he hauing gotten a horse, whom his dying master had bequeathed to the [ 15] world, finding him selfe sore hurt, and not desirous to be knowen, had in the time of the enemies retiring, retired away also: his thigh not bleeding bloud so fast, as his harte bledde reuenge. But Basilius hauing attempted in vaine to barre the safe returne of Amphialus, encamped himselfe as strongly as he could, while he (to his griefe) might heare the ioy was made in the towne by his owne subiects, [ 20] that he had that day sped no better. For Amphialus (being well beloued of that people) when they saw him not vanquished, they esteemed him as victorious, his youth setting a flourishing shew vpon his worthinesse, and his great nobilitie en∣nobling his dangers.

But the first thing Amphialus did, being returned, was to visite Philoclea, and first [ 25] presuming to cause his dreame to be song vnto her (which he had seen the night be∣fore he fell in loue with her) making a fine boy he had, accorde a prettie dolefulnes vnto it. The song was this.

NOw was our heau'nly vaulte depriued of the light With Sunnes depart: and now the darkenes of the night [ 30] Did light those beamy stars which greater light did darke: Now each thing that enioy'd that firie quickning sparke (Which life is cald) were mou'd their spirits to repose, And wanting vse of eyes their eyes began to close: A silence sweet each where with one consent embraste [ 35] (A musique sweet to one in carefull musing plaste) And mother Earth, now clad in mourning weeds, did breath A dull desire to kisse the image of our death: When I, disgraced wretch, not wretched then, did giue My senses such reliefe, as they which quiet liue, [ 40] Whose braines broile not in woes, nor brests with beatings ake, With natures praise are wont in safest home to take. Far from my thoughts was ought, whereto their minds aspire, Who vnder courtly pompes doo hatch a base desire. Free all my powers were from those captiuing snares, [ 45] Which heau'nly purest gifts defile in muddy cares. Ne could my soule it selfe accuse of such a faulte,

As tender conscience might with furious pangs assaulte•• But like the feeble flower (whose stalke cannot sustaine His weighty top) his top downeward doth drooping leane: Or as the silly birde in well acquainted nest [ 5] Doth hide his head with cares but onely how to rest: So I in simple course, and vnentangled minde Did suffer drousie lids mine eyes then cleare to blinde; And laying downe my head, did natures rule obserue, Which senses vp doth shut the senses to preserue. [ 10] They first their vse forgot, then fancies lost their force; Till deadly sleepe at length possest my liuing coarse. A liuing coarse I lay: but ah, my wakefull minde (Which made of heau'nly stuffe no mortall chaunge doth blind) Flew vp with freer wings of fleshly bondage free; [ 15] And hauing plaste my thoughts, my thoughts thus placed me. Me thought, nay sure I was, I was in fairest wood Of Samothea lande; a lande, which whilom stood An honour to the world, while Honour was their ende, And while their line of yeares they did in vertue spende. [ 20] But there I was, and there my calmie thoughts I fedd On Natures sweet repast, as healthfull senses ledd. Her giftes my study was, her beauties were my sporte: My worke her workes to know, her dwelling my resorte. Those lamps of heau'nly fire to fixed motion bound, [ 25] The euer-turning spheares, the neuer-mouing ground; What essence dest'nie hath; if fortune be or no; Whence our immortall soules to mortall earth doo flowe: What life it is, and how that all these liues doo gather, With outward makers force, or like an inward father. [ 30] Such thoughts, me thought, I thought, and straind my single mind Then void of neerer cares, the depth of things to find. When lo with hugest noise (such noise a tower makes When it blowne downe with winde a fall of ruine takes) (Or such a noise it was, as highest thunders sende, [ 35] Or canons thunder-like, all shot togither, lende) The Moone a sunder rent; whereout with sodaine fall (More swift then falcons stoope to feeding Falconers call) There came a chariot faire by doues and sparrowes guided: Whose stormelike course staid not till hard by me it bided. [ 40] I wretch astonisht was, and thought the deathfull doome Of heauen, of earth, of hell, of time and place was come. But streight there issued forth two Ladies (Ladies sure They seemd to me) on whom did wait a Virgin pure, Straunge were the Ladies weeds; yet more vnfit then strange. [ 45] The first with cloth's tuckt vp as Nymphes in woods do range; Tuckt vp euen with the knees, with bowe and arrowes prest: Her right arme naked was, discouered was her brest.

But heauy was her pace, and such a meagre cheere, As little hunting minde (God knowes) did there appeere. The other had with arte (more then our women knowe, As stuffe meant for the sale set out to glaring showe) A wanton womans face, and with curld knots had twinde [ 5] Her haire, which by the helpe of painters cunning, shinde. When I such guests did see come out of such a house, The mountaines great with childe I thought brought foorth a mouse. But walking forth, the first thus to the second saide, Venus come on: said she, Diane you are obaide. [ 10] Those names abasht me much, when those great names I hard: Although their fame (me seemd) from truth had greatly iard. As I thus musing stood, Diana cald to her The waiting Nymphe, a Nymphe that did excell as farr All things that earst I sawe, as orient pearles exceed, [ 15] That which their mother hight, or els their silly seed. Indeed a perfect hewe, indeed a sweet consent Of all those Graces giftes the heauens haue euer lent. And so she was attirde, as one that did not prize Too much her peerles parts, nor yet could them despise. [ 20] But cald, she came apace; a pace wherein did moue The bande of beauties all, the little world of Loue. And bending humbled eyes (ô eyes the Sunne of sight) She waited mistresse will: who thus disclosd her spright. Sweet Mira mine (quoth she) the pleasure of my minde, [ 25] In whom of all my rules the perfect proofe I finde, To onely thee thou seest we graunt this speciall grace Vs to attend, in this most priuate time and place. Be silent therefore now, and so be silent still Of that thou seest: close vp in secrete knot thy will. [ 30] She answer'd was with looke, and well perform'd behest: And Mira I admirde: her shape sonke in my brest. But thus with irefull eyes, and face that shooke with spite Diana did begin. What moude me to inuite Your presence (sister deare) first to my Moony spheare, [ 35] And hither now, vouchsafe to take with willing eare. I know full well you know, what discord long hath raign'd Betwixt vs two; how much that discord foule hath stain'd Both our estates, while each the other did depraue, Proofe speakes too much to vs that feeling triall haue. [ 40] Our names are quite forgot, our temples are defac'd: Our offrings spoil'd, our priests from priesthood are displac'd. Is this the fruite of strife? those thousand churches hie, Those thousand altars faire now in the dust to lie? In mortall mindes our mindes but planets names preserue: [ 45] No knees once bowed, forsooth, for them they say we serue. Are we their seruants growne? no doubt a noble staye:

Celestiall powers to wormes, Ioues children serue to claye. But such they say we be: this praise our discord bred, While we for mutuall spight, a striuing passion fed. But let vs wiser be; and what foule discorde brake, [ 5] So much more strong againe let fastest concorde make. Our yeares doo it require: you see we both doo feele The weakning worke of Times for euer-whirling wheele. Although we be diuine, our grandsire Saturne is With ages force decay'd, yet once the heauen was his. [ 10] And now before we seeke by wise Apollos skill Our young yeares to renew (for so he saith he will) Let vs a perfect peace betweene vs two resolue: Which lest the ruinous want of gouernment dissolue, Let one the Princesse be, to her the other yeeld: [ 15] For vaine equalitie is but contentions field. And let her haue the giftes that should in both remaine: In her let beautie both, and chastnesse fully raigne. So as if I preuaile, you giue your giftes to me: If you, on you I lay what in my office be. [ 20] Now resteth onely this, which of vs two is she, To whom precedence shall of both accorded be. For that (so that you like) hereby doth lie a youth (She beckned vnto-me) as yet of spotlesse truth, Who may this doubt discerne: for better, witt, then lot [ 25] Becommeth vs: in vs fortune determines not. This crowne of amber faire (an amber crowne she held) To worthiest let him giue, when both he hath beheld: And be it as he saith. Venus was glad to heare Such proffer made, which she well showd with smiling cheere. [ 30] As though she were the same, as when by Paris doome She had chiefe Goddesses in beautie ouercome. And smirkly thus gan say. I neuer sought debate Diana deare; my minde to loue and not to hate Was euer apt: but you my pastimes did despise. [ 35] I neuer spited you, but thought you ouerwise. Now kindnesse profred is, none kinder is then I: And so most ready am this meane of peace to trie. And let him be our iudge: the lad doth please me well. Thus both did come to me, and both began to tell [ 40] (For both togither spake, each loth to be behinde) That they by solemne oth their Deities would binde To stand vnto my will: their will they made me know. I that was first agast, when first I saw their showe: Now bolder waxt, waxt prowde, that I such sway must beare: [ 45] For neere acquaintance dooth diminish reuerent feare. And hauing bound them fast by Styx, they should obaye To all what I decreed, did thus my verdict saye.

How ill both you can rule, well hath your discord taught: Ne yet for ought I see, your beauties merit ought. To yonder Nymphe therefore (to Mira I did point) The crowne aboue you both for euer I appoint. I would haue spoken out: but out they both did crie; [ 5] Fie, fie, what haue we done? vngodly rebell fie. But now we needs must yeelde, to that our othes require. Yet thou shalt not go free (quoth Venus) such a fire Her beautie kindle shall within thy foolish minde, That thou full oft shalt wish thy iudging eyes were blinde. [ 10] Nay then (Diana said) the chastnesse I will giue In ashes of despaire (though burnt) shall make thee liue. Nay thou (said both) shalt see such beames shine in her face That thou shalt neuer dare seeke helpe of wretched case. And with that cursed curse away to heauen they fled, [ 15] First hauing all their giftes vpon faire Mira spred. The rest I cannot tell, for therewithall I wak'd And found with deadly feare that all my sinewes shak'd. Was it a dreame? O dreame, how hast thou wrought in me, That I things erst vnseene should first in dreaming see? [ 20] And thou ô traytour Sleepe, made for to be our rest, How hast thou framde the paine wherewith I am opprest? O cowarde Cupid thus doost thou thy honour keepe, Vnarmde (alas) vnwarn'd to take a man asleepe? [ 25]

Laying not onely the conquests, but the hart of the conquerour at her feet. *** But she receiuing him after her woonted sorrowfull (but otherwise vnmoued) mā∣ner, it made him thinke, his good successe was but as a pleasant monumēt of a dole∣full buriall: Ioy it selfe seeming bitter vnto him, since it agreed not to her taste.

Therefore, still crauing his mothers helpe to persuade her, he himselfe sent for [ 30] Philanax vnto him, whome he had not onely long hated, but now had his hate greatly encreased by the death of his Squire Ismenus. Besides he had made him as one of the chiefe causes that mooued him to this rebellion, and therefore was enclined (to colour the better his action, and the more to embrewe the handes of his accomplices by making them guiltie of such a trespasse) in some formall sort to [ 35] cause him to be executed: being also greatly egged thereunto by his mother, and some other, who long had hated Philanax, onely because he was more worthy, then they to be loued.

But while that deliberation was handeled, according rather to the humour then the reason of ech speaker, Philoclea comming to knowledge of the hard plight [ 40] wherein Philanax stood, she desired one of the gentlewomen appoynted to waite vpon her, to goe in her name, and beseech Amphialus, that if the loue of her had any power of perswasion in his minde, he would lay no further punishment, then imprisonment, vppon Philanax. This message was deliuered euen as Philanax was entring to the presence of Amphialus, comming (according to the warning [ 45] was giuen him) to receyue a iudgement of death. But when he with manfull reso∣lution attended the fruite of such a tyrannicall sentence, thinking it wrong, but

no harme to him that shoulde die in so good a cause; Amphialus turned quite the fourme of his pretended speech, & yeelded him humble thankes, that by his meanes he had come to that happinesse, as to receiue a commaundement of his Ladie: and therfore he willingly gaue him libertie to returne in safetye whether he would, qui∣ting [ 5] him, not onely of all former grudge, but assuring him that he would be willing to do him any friendshipp, and seruice: onely desiring thus much of him, that hee would let him know the discourse and intent of Basilius-his proceeding.

Truely my Lorde (answered Philanax) if there were any such knowne to mee, secrete in my maisters counsaile, as that the reuealing thereof might hinder his good [ 10] successe, I should loath the keeping of my blood, with the losse of my faith; & would thinke the iust name of a traitour a hearde purchase of a fewe yeares liuing. But since it is so, that my maister hath indeede no way of priuie practise, but meanes openly & forcibly to deale against you, I will not sticke in few words to make your required declaration. Then told he him in what a maze of a mazemēt, both Basilius & Gynecia [ 15] were, when they mist their childrē & Zelmane. Somtimes apt to suspect some prac∣tise of Zelmane, because she was a straunger; somtimes doubting some reliques of the late mutinie, which doubt was rather encreased, thē any way satisfied, by Miso: who (being foūd, almost dead for hunger, by certaine Countrey-people) brought home word, with what cūning they were trayned out, & with what violence they were ca∣ried [ 20] away. But that within a few dayes they came to knowledge wher they were, by Amphialus-his own letters sent abroad to procure cōfederates in his attemptes. That Basilius his purpose was neuer to leaue the sieg of this town, til he had takē it, & reuē∣ged the iniurie done vnto him. That he meant rather to winne it by time, & famine, then by force of assault: knowing howe valiant men he had to deale withall in the [ 25] towne: that he had sent order, that supplyes of souldiours, pioners, and all thinges else necessarie, should dayly be brought vnto him: so as, my Lord (sayde Philanax) let me nowe, hauing receyued my life by your grace. let me giue you your life and and honour by my counsaile; protesting vnto you, that I cannot choose but loue you, being my maister-his nephewe; and that I wish you well in all causes but this, [ 30] You knowe his nature is as apte to forgiue, as his power is able to conquere. Your fault passed is excusable, in that Loue perswaded, and youth was perswaded. Doo not vrge the effects of angrie victorie, but rather seeke to obtaine that constantly by courtesie, which you can neuer assuredly enioy by violence. One might easily haue seene in the cheare of Amphialus, that disdainfull choller would faine haue made the [ 35] aunswere for him, but the remembraunce of Philoclea serued for forcible barriers be∣tweene Anger, and angry effects: so as he said no more, but that he woulde not put him to the trouble to giue him any further counsaile: But that hee might returne, if hee listed, presently. Philanax glad to receyue an vncorrupted libertie, humbly ac∣cepted his fauourable conuoy out of the towne; and so departed, not visitinge the [ 40] Princesses, thinking it might be offensiue to Amphialus, and no way fruitfull to them who were no way but by force to be reskued.

The poore Ladies indeede, not suffered either to meet together, or to haue con∣ference with any other, but such as Cecropia had alreadie framed to sing al their songs to her tune, she herselfe omitting no day, and catching holde of euerie occasion to [ 45] mooue forwarde her sonnes desire, and remoue their owne resolutions: vsing the same arguments to the one sister, as to the other; determining that whom she could winne first, the other shoulde (without her sonnes knowledge) by poyson be made

away. But though the reasons were the same to both, yet the handling was diuerse, according as she saw their humours to prepare a more or lesse aptnesse of apprehen∣sion. This day hauing vsed long speech to Philoclea, amplifying not a little the great duetifulnesse her sonne had shewed in deliuering Philanax: of whom she could get no aunswere, but a silence sealed vp in vertue, & so sweetly graced, as that in one in∣stant [ 5] it caried with it both resistance, and humblenes: Cecropia threatning in her selfe to rūne a more rugged race with her, went to her sister Pamela: who that day hauing wearied her self with reading, & with the height of her hart disdaining to keep com∣panie with any of the Gentlewomē appointed to attend her, whome she accounted her iaylours, was working vppō a purse certain Roses & Lillies, as by the finenesse of [ 10] the worke, one might see she had borowed her wittes of the sorow that then owed them, & lent them wholy to that exercise. For the flowers shee had wrought, caried such life in thē, that the cūningest painter might haue learned of her needle: which with so prety a maner made his careers to & fro through the cloth, as if the needle it self wold haue ben loth to haue gone frōward such a mistres, but that it hoped to re∣turn [ 15] thitherward very quickly againe: the cloth loking with many eies vpon her, & louingly embracing the wounds she gaue it: the sheares also were at hand to behead the silke, that was grown to short. And if at any time she put her mouth to bite it off it seemed, that where she had beene long in making of a Rose with her hands, shee would in an instāt make Roses with her lips; as the Lillies semed to haue their white∣nesse, [ 20] rather of the hand that made them, then of the matter wherof the were made; & that they grew therby the Sūnes of her eys, & were refreshed by the most indiscō∣fort comfortable ayre, which an vnwares sigh might bestow vpon them. But the co∣lours for the ground were so well chosen, neither sullenly darke, nor glaringly light∣some, & so wel proportioned, as that, though much cunning were in it, yet it was but [ 25] to serue for an ornament of the principall woorke; that it was not without maruaile to see, how a mind which could cast a carelesse semblant vpon the greatest conflictes of Fortune, could commaund it selfe to take care for so small matters. Neither had she neglected the daintie dressing of her selfe: but as if it had been her mariage time to Affliction, she rather semed to remember her owne worthinesse, then the vnwor∣thinesse [ 30] of her husband. For wel one might perceyue she had not reiected the coun∣saile of a glasse, & that her hands had pleased themselues, in paying the tribute of vn∣deceyuing skill, to so high perfections of Nature.

The sight whereof so diuerse from her sister, (who rather suffered sorrowe to dresse it selfe in her beautie, then that she would bestow any intertainment of so vn∣welcome [ 35] a guest made Cecropia take a suddaine assurednesse of hope, that she should obtaine somewhat of Pamela: thinking (according to the squaring out of her owne good nature) that beautie, carefully set foorth, woulde soone proue a signe of an vnrefusing harborough. Animated wherewith, shee sate downe by Pamela: and ta∣king the purse, and with affected curiositie looking vpon the worke, Full happie is [ 40] he (saide she) at least if hee knew his owne happinesse, to whom a purse in this ma∣ner, and by this hand wrought, is dedicated. In faith he shall haue cause to account it, not as a purse for treasure, but as a treasure it selfe, worthie to bee pursed vp in the purse of his owne hart. And thinke you so indeede (saide Pamela halfe smiling) I promise you I wrought it, but to make some tedious houres beleeue, that I thought [ 45] not of them: for else I valued it, but euen as a verie purse. It is the right nature (saide Cecropia) of Beauty, to worke vnwitting effectes of wonder. Truely (saide Pamela) I neuer thought till now, that this outward glasse, intitled Beautie, which it pleaseth

you to lay to my (as I thinke) vnguiltie charge, was but a pleasaunt mixture of natu∣rall colours, delightfull to the eye, as musicke is to the eare, without any further consequence: since it is a thing, which not onely beastes haue; but euen stones and trees many of them doo greatly excell in it. That other thinges (answered Cecropia) [ 5] haue some portion of it, takes not away the excellencie of it, where indeede it doth excell: since we see, that euen those beastes, trees, & stones, are in the name of Beau∣ty onely highly praised. But that the beautie of humaine persons be beyond al other things there is great likelihood of reason, since to them onely is giuen the iudge∣ment to discerne Beautie; and among reasonable wightes, as it seemes, that our sex [ 10] hath the preheminence, so that in that preheminence, Nature counteruailes al other liberalities, wherein she may bee thought to haue dealte more fauourably towarde mankind. How doo men crowne (thinke you) themselues with glorie, for hauing either by force brought others to yeelde to their minde, or with long studie, and premeditated orations, perswaded what they would haue perswaded? and see, a faire [ 15] woman shall not onely commaund without authoritie, but perswade without spea∣king. She shall not neede to procure attention, for their owne eyes will chaine their eares vnto it. Men venture liues to cōquere; she conqueres liues without venturing. She is serued, and obeyed, which is the most notable, not because the lawe: so com∣maund it, but because they become lawes themselues to obey her; not for her pa∣rents [ 20] sake, but for her own sake. She need not dispute, whether to gouerne by Feare or Loue, since without her thinking thereof, their loue will bring foorth feare, and their feare will fortifie their loue: and shee neede not seeke offensiue, or defensiue force, since her onely lippes may stande for ten thousand shieldes, and tenne thou∣sand vneuitable shot goe from her eyes. Beautie, Beautie (deere Neece) is the [ 25] crowne of the feminine greatnes; which gifte, on whom soeuer the heauens (there∣in most nigardly) do bestowe, without question, she is bound to vse it to the noble purpose, for which it is created: not onely winning, but preseruing; since that in∣deede is the right happines, which is not onely in itselfe happie, but can also deriue the happines to another. Certainly Aunt (said Pamela) I feare me you will make me [ 30] not only think my selfe fairer then euer I did, but think my fairenes a matter of grea∣ter valew then heretofore I could imagine it. For I euer (til now) conceaued these conquests you speake of, rather to proceed from the weakenes of the conquered, then from the strength of the conquering power: as they say, the Cranes ouerthrow whole battailes of Pygmees, not so much of their Cranish courage, as because the o∣ther [ 35] are Pygmees, and that wee see, young babes thinke babies of woonderfull excel∣lencie, and yet the babies are but babies. But since your elder yeares, & abler iudge∣ment, finde Beautie to be worthy of so incomparable estimation, certainly me thinks it ought to be held in dearnes, according to the excellencie, and (no more then we would do of things which we account pretious) euer to suffer it to be defiled.

[ 40] Defiled? (saide Cecropia) Mary God forbid that my speech shoulde tend to any such purpose, as should deserue so foul a title. My meaning is to ioyne your beauty to loue; your youth to delight. For truely, as coulours should be as good as nothing if there were no eyes to behold them: so is Beauty nothing, without the eye of Loue behold it: and therfore, so far is it from defiling it, that it is the onely honoring of it, [ 45] the onely preseruing of it: for Beauty goes awaye, deuoured by Time, but where remaines it euer flourishing, but in the hart of a true louer? And such a one (if euer there were any) is my son: whose loue is so subiected vnto you, that rather thē breed

any offence vnto you, it will not delight it selfe in beholding you. There is no effect of his loue (answered Pamela) better pleaseth mee then that: but as I haue often an∣swered you, so, resolutely I say vnto you, that he must get my parents consent, and then he shall know further of my minde; for, without that, I know I should offend God. O sweet youth (said Cecropia) how vntimely subiect it is to deuotion (No, no [ 5] sweet neece, let vs old folks thinke of such precise considerations; do you enioy the heauen of your age, whereof you are sure: and like good housholders, which spend those thinges that will not bee kept, so do you pleasantly enioy that, which else will bring an ouer-late repentance, when your glas shall accuse you to your face, what a change there is in you. Do you see how the spring-time is full of flowers, decking it [ 10] selfe with them, and not aspiring to the fruits of Autumn? what lesson is that vnto you, but that in the april of your age, you should be like April? Let not some of them for whom alredy the graue gapeth, and perhaps enuy the felicity in you, which thē∣selues cannot enioy, perswade you to lose the holde of occasion; while it may not onely be taken, but offers, nay sues to bee taken: which if it bee not now taken, wil [ 15] neuer hereafter be ouertaken. Your selfe know, how your father hath refused all of∣fers made by the greatest Princes about you, & wil you suffer your beauty to be hid∣den in the wrinckles of his peuish thoughts? If hee be peuish (said Pamela) yet is he my father, and how beautifull so euer I be, I am his daughter: so as God claimes at my hands obedience, and makes me no iudge of his imperfections•• [ 20]

These often replies vpon conscience in Pamela; made Cecropia thinke, that there was no righter waye for her, then as shee had (in her opinion) set her in liking of Beautie, with perswasion not to suffer it to be voide of purpose, ••o if she could make her lesse feeling of those heauenly conceipts, that then shee might easilie winde her to her croked bias. Therefore, employing the vttermost of her mischieuous witte, [ 25] and speaking the more earnestly, because she spake as shee thought, shee thus dealt with her. Deare neece, or rather, deare daughter, if my affection & wish might pre∣uaile therein, how much dooth it increase (trowe you) the earnest desire I haue of this blessed match, to see these vertues of yours knit fast with such zeale of Deuoti∣on (indeede the best bonde) which the most politicke wittes haue founde, to holde [ 30] mans witte in well doing? For, as children must first by feare bee induced to knowe that, which after (when they doo know) they are most glad of: So are these bug-beares of opiniōs brought by great Clearks into the world, to serue as shewelles to to keepe them from those faults, whereto els the vanitie of the worlde, and weake∣nes of senses might pull them. But in you (Neece) whose excellencie is such, as it [ 35] neede not to be helde vp by the staffe of vulgar opinions, I would not you shoulde loue Vertue seruillie, for feare of I know not what, which you see not: but euen for the good effects of vertue which you see. Feare, and indeede, foolish feare, & feare∣full ignorance, was the first inuenter of those conceates. For, when they hearde it thunder, not knowing the naturall cause, they thought there was some angrie body [ 40] aboue, that spake so lowde: and euer the lesse they did perceiue, the more they did conceiue. Whereof they knew no cause that grew streight a miracle: foolish folkes, not marking that the alterations be but vpon particular accidents, the vniuersalitie being alwaies one. Yesterday was but as to day, and to morrow will tread the same footsteps of his foregoers: so as it is manifest inough, that all thinges follow but the [ 45] course of their owne nature, sauing onely Man, who while by the pregnancie of his imagination he striues to things supernaturall, meane-while hee looseth his owne

naturall felicitie. Be wise, and that wisedome shalbe a God vnto thee; be contented, and that is thy heauen: for els to thinke that those powers (if there bee any such) a∣boue are moued either by the eloquence of our prayers, or in a chafe at the folly of our actions; caries asmuch reason as if flies should thinke, that men take great care [ 5] which of them hums sweetest, and which of them flies nimblest.

She woulde haue spoken further to haue enlarged and confirmed her discourse: when Pamela (whose cheeks were died in the beautifullest graine of vertuous anger, with eies which glistered foorth beames of disdaine) thus interrupted her. Peace (wicked womā) peace, vnworthy to breath, that doest not acknowledge the breath-giuer; [ 10] most vnworthy to haue a tongue, which speakest against him, through whom thou speakest: keepe your affection to your selfe, which like a bemired dog, would defile with fauning. You say yesterday was as to day. O foolish woman, and most miserablely foolish, since wit makes you foolish. What dooth that argue, but that there is a constancie in the euerlasting gouernour? Woulde you haue an inconstant [ 15] God, since wee count a man foolish that is inconstant? He is not seene you say, and woulde you thinke him a God, who might bee seene by so wicked eyes, as yours? which yet might see enough if they were not like such, who for sport-sake willingly hood-winke themselues to receaue blowes the easier. But though I speake to you without any hope of fruite in so rotten a harte, and there bee no bodie else here to [ 20] iudge of my speeches, yet be thou my witnesse, O captiuitie, that my yeares shal not be willingly guiltie of my Creators blasphemie. You saie, because we know not the causes of things; therfore feare was the mother of superstitiō: nay, because we know that each effect hath a cause, that hath engendred a true & liuely deuotion. For this goodly work of which we are, & in which we liue, hath not his being by Chaūce; on [ 25] which opiniō it is beyōd meruaile by what chaūce any braine could stumble. For if it be eternall (as you would seeme to conceiue of it) Eternity, and Chaunce are things vnsufferable together. For that is chaunceable which happeneth; and if it happen, there was a time before it happned, when it might haue not happened; or els it did not happen; and so if chaunceable, not eternall. And as absurd it is to thinke that if [ 30] it had a beginning, his beginning was deriued from Chaunce: for Chaunce could neuer make all things of nothing: and if there were substaunces before, which by chaunce shoulde meete to make vp this worke, thereon followes another bottom∣lesse pitt of absurdities. For then those substaunces must needs haue bene from euer and so eternall: and that eternall causes should bring forth chaunceable effectes, is as [ 35] sensible, as that the Sunne shoulde bee the author of darkenesse. Againe, if it were chaunceable, then was it not necessarie; whereby you take away all consequents. But we see in all thinges, in some respect or other, necessitie of consequence: there∣fore in reason we must needs know that the causes were necessarie.

Lastly Chaunce is variable, or els it is not to be called Chaunce: but wee see this [ 40] worke is steady and permanent. If nothing but Chaunce had glewed those pieces of this All, the heauie partes would haue gone infinitely downward, the light infinite∣ly vpwarde, and so neuer haue mett to haue made vp his goodly bodie. For before there was a heauen, or a earth, there was neyther a heauen to stay the height of the rising, nor an earth, which (in respect of the round walles of heauen) should become [ 45] a centre. Lastly, perfect order, perfect beautie, perfect constancie, if these be the chil∣dren of Chaunce, let wisedome be counted the roote of wickednesse. But you will say it is so by nature, as much as if you saide it is so, because it is so: if you meane of

many natures conspiring together, as in a popular gouernemēt to establish this faire estate; as if the Elementishe and ethereall partes shoulde in their towne-house set downe the bounds of each ones office; then consider what followes: that there must needes haue bene a wisedome which made them concurre: for their natures beyng absolute contrarie, in nature rather would haue sought each others ruine, then haue [ 5] serued as well consorted partes to such an vnexpressable harmonie. For that contrary things should meete to make vp a perfection without a force and Wisedome aboue their powers, is absolutely impossible; vnles you will flie to that hissed-out opinion of Chaunce againe. But you may perhaps affirme, that one vniuersal Nature (which hath ben for euer) is the knitting together of these many partes to such an excellent [ 10] vnitie. If you meane a Nature of wisdome, goodnes, & prouidence, which knowes what it doth, then say you that, which I seeke of you, and cannot conclude those blasphemies, whith which you defiled your mouth, & mine eares. But if you meane a Nature, as we speake of the fire, which goeth vpward, it knowes not why: and of the nature of the Sea which in ebbing and flowing semes to obserue so iust a daunce [ 15] and yet vnderstands no musicke, it is but still the same absurditie superscribed with another title. For this worde, one, being attributed to that which is All, is but one mingling of many, and many ones; as in a lesse matter, when we say one kingdome which conteines many citties; or one cittie which conteines many persons, where∣in the vnder ones (if there be not a superiour power and wisedome) cannot by na∣ture [ 20] regarde to any preseruation but of themselues: no more wee see they doo, since the water willingly quenches the fire, and drownes the earth; so farre are they from a conspired vnitie: but that a right heauenly Nature indeed, as it were vnnaturinge them, doth so bridle them.

Againe, it is as absurde in nature that from an vnitie many contraries should pro∣ceede [ 25] still kept in a vnitie: as that from the number of contrarieties an vnitie should arise. I say still, if you banish both a singularitie, and pluralitie of iudgement from a∣mong them then (if so earthly a minde can lift it selfe vp so hie) doo but conceaue, how a thing whereto you giue the highest, and most excellent kind of being (which is eternitie) can be of a base & vilest degree of being, and next to a not-being; which [ 30] is so to be, as not to enioy his owne being? I will not here call all your senses to wit∣nes which can heare, nor see nothing, which yeeldes not most euident euidence of of the vnspeakeablenesse of that Wisedome: each thinge being directed to an ende, and an ende of preseruation: so proper effects of iudgement, as speaking, and laugh∣ing are of mankind. [ 35]

But what madd furie can euer so enueagle any conceipte, as to see our mortal and corruptible selues to haue a reason, and that this vniuersalitie (whereof wee are but the lest pieces) shoulde bee vtterly deuoide thereof? as if one shoulde saie, that ones foote might be wise, and him selfe foolish. This hearde I once alledged against such a godlesse minde as yours, who being driuen to acknowledge this beastly absurditie [ 40] that our bodies should be better then the whole worlde, if it had the knowledge, whereof the other were voide; he sought (not able to answere directly) to shifte it off in this sorte: that if that reason were true, then must it followe also, that the world must haue in it a spirite, that could write and read too, and be learned; since that was in vs commendable: wretched foole, not considering that Bookes bee but supplies [ 45] of defects; and so are praysed, because they helpe our want, and therefore cannot be incident to the eternall intelligence, which needes no recording of opinions to con∣firme

his knowledge, no more then the Sunne wants waxe to be the fewell of his glorious lightfulnes. This world therfore cannot otherwise consist but by a minde of Wisedome, which gouernes it, which whether you will allow to be•• the Creator thereof, as vndoubtedly he is, or the soule and gouernour thereof, most [ 5] certaine it is that whether he gouerne all, or make all, his power is aboue either his creatures, or his gouernement. And if his power be aboue all thinges, then con∣sequently it must needes be infinite, since there is nothing aboue it to limit it. For beyond which there is nothing, must needes be boundlesse, and infinite: if his power be infinite, then likewise must his knowledge be infinite: for else there [ 10] should be an infinite proportion of power which he should not know how to vse; the vnsensiblenesse whereof I thinke euen you can conceaue: and if infinite, then must nothing, no not the estate of flies (which you with so vnsauerie skorne did iest at) be vnknowne vnto him. For if it were, then there were his knowledge bounded, and so not infinite: if knowledge and power be infinite, then must [ 15] needs his goodnesse and iustice march in the same rancke: for infinitenes of po∣wer, and knowledge, without like measure of goodnesse, must necessarily bring foorth destruction and ruine, and not ornament and preseruation. Since then there is a God, and an all-knowing God, so as he sees into the darkest of all natu∣rall secretes, which is the hart of Man; and sees therein the deepest dissembled [ 20] thoughts, nay sees the thoughts before they be thought: since he is iust to exercise his might, and mightie to performe his iustice, assure thy selfe, most wicked wo∣man (that hast so plaguily a corrupted minde, as thou canst not keepe thy sicke∣nesse to thy selfe, but must most wickedly infect others) assure thy selfe, I say, (for what I say dependes of euerlasting and vnremooueable causes) that the time will [ 25] come, when thou shalt knowe that power by feeling it, when thou shalt see his wisedome in the manifesting thy ougly shamefulnes, and shalt onely perceiue him to haue bene a Creator in thy destruction.

Thus she saide, thus she ended, with so faire maiestie of vnconquered vertue, that captiuitie might seeme to haue authoritie ouer tyrannie: so fowly was the fil∣thinesse [ 30] of impietie discouered by the shining of her vnstayned goodnes, so farre, as either Cecropia saw indeed, or else the guilty amazement of a selfe-accusing con∣science, made her eies vntrue iudges of their naturall obiect, that there was a light more then humaine, which gaue a lustre to her perfections. But Cecropia, like a Batte (which though it haue eyes to discerne that there is a Sunne, yet hath [ 35] so euill eyes, that it cannot delight in the Sunne) found a trueth, but could not loue it. But as great persons are woont to make the wrong they haue done, to be a cause to doo the more wrong, her knowledge rose to no higher point, but to en∣u••e a worthier, and her will was no otherwise bent, but the more to hate, the more she found her enemie prouided against her. Yet all the while she spake (though [ 40] with eyes cast like a horse that would strike at the stirrop, and with colour which blushed through yellownesse) she sate rather still then quiet, and after her speech rather muttered, then replied: for the warre of wickednesse in her selfe, brought forth disdainefull pride to resist cunning dissimulation; so as, saying little more vnto her, but that she should haue leysure inough better to bethinke her selfe; she went [ 45] away repining, but not repenting: condemning greatly (as she thought) her sonnes ouer-feeble humblenesse, and purposing to egge him forward to a course of vio∣lence. For her selfe, determining to deale wi••h neither of them both any more in

maner of a suter: for what maiestie of vertue did in the one, that did silent humble∣nesse in the other. But finding her sonne ouer-apt to lay both condemnation, and execution of sorrow vpon himselfe, she sought to mitigate his minde with feigned delayes of comfort, who (hauing this inward ouerthrow in himselfe) was the more vexed, that he could not vtter the rage thereof vpon his outward enemies. [ 5]

For Basilius taught by the last dayes triall, what daungerous effectes chosen cou∣rages can bring forth, rather vsed the spade, then the sworde; or the sworde, but to defende the spade; girding about the whole towne with trenches; which be∣ginning a good way off from the towne, with a number of well directed Pioners, he still caryed before him till they came to a neere distance, where he builded [ 10] Fortes, one answering the other, in such sort, as it was a pretie consideration in the discipline of warre, to see building vsed for the instrument of ruine, and the assayler entrenched as if he were besieged. But many sallies did Amphi∣alus make to hinder their working. But they (exercising more melancholie, then choller in their resolution) made him finde, that if by the aduauntage of place, [ 15] fewe are able to defende themselues from manie, that manie must needes haue power, (making themselues strong in seate) to repell fewe; referring the re∣uenge rather to the ende, then a present requitall. Yet oftentimes they dealt some blowes in light skirmishes, eche side hauing a strong retyring place, and ra∣ther fighting with manie alarums, to vexe the enemie, then for anie hope of great [ 20] successe.

Which euerie way was a tedious comber to the impacient courage of Amphi∣alus: till the fame of this warre, bringing thither diuerse, both straungers, and subiects, as well of princely, as noble houses, the gallant Phalantus, who refrained his sportfull delightes as then, to serue Basilius, (whome he honoured for recey∣ued [ 25] honours) when he had spent some time in considering the Arcadian man∣ner in marching, encamping, and fighting, and had learned in what points of gouernement, and obedience their discipline differed from others, and so had satisfied his minde in the knowledges, both for the cutting off the enemies helpes, and furnishing ones selfe, which Basilius orders could deliuer vnto him, [ 30] his yong spirits (wearie of wanting cause to be wearie) desired to keepe his va∣lure in knowledge, by some priuate acte, since the publique policie restrayned him; the rather, because his olde mistresse Artesia might see, whome she had so lightly forsaken: and therefore demaunding and obteyning leaue of Basilius; he caused a Heraulde to be furnished with apparell of his office, and tokens of a [ 35] peaceable message, and so sent him to the gate of the towne to demaunde au∣dience of Amphialus: who vnderstanding thereof, caused him both safely, and courteously to be brought into his presence: who making lowly reuerence vnto him, presented his Letters, desiring Amphialus that whatsoeuer they conteyned, he would consider that he was onely the bearer, and not the indi∣ter. [ 40] Amphialus with noble gentlenesse assured him both, by honourable spee∣ches, and a demeanure which aunswered for him, that his reuenge, whensoe∣uer, should sort vnto it selfe a higher subiect. But opening the Letters, he found them to speake in this maner.

[ 45]

PHalantus of Corinthe, to Amphialus of Arcadia, sendeth the greeting of a hate∣lesse enemie. The liking of martiall matters without anie mislike of your person,

hath brought me rather to the companie, then to the minde of your besiegers: where languishing in idlenesse, I desire to refresh my minde with some exercise of armes, which might make knowne the dooers, with delight of the beholders. Therefore, if there be any Gentleman in your Towne, that eyther for the loue of [ 5] Honour, or honour of his Loue, will armed on horsebacke, with launce, and sworde, winne another, or loose himselfe, to be a prisoner at discretion of the conquerour, I will to morrowe morning by Sunne rising, with a trumpet and a Squire onely, attende him in like order furnished. The place I thinke fittest, the Iland within the Lake, because it standes so well in the view of your Castell, as [ 10] that the Ladies may haue the pleasure of seeing the combate: which though it be within the commaundement of your Castell, I desire no better securitie, then the promise I make to my selfe of your vertue. I attende your aunswere, and wish you such successe as may be to your honour, rather in yeelding to that which is iust, then in mainteyning wrong by violence.

[ 15]

AMphialus read it with cheerefull countenance, and thinking but a little with himselfe, called for inke and paper, and wrote this aunswere.

AMphialus of Arcadia, to Phalantus of Corinthe, wisheth all his owne wishes, sa∣uing [ 20] those which may be hurtfull to another. The matter of your letters so fit for a worthy minde, and the maner so sutable to the noblenesse of the matter, giue me cause to thinke how happie I might accounte my selfe, if I coulde get such a friende, who esteeme it no small happinesse to haue mette with so noble an ene∣mie. Your chalenge shall be aunswered, and both time, place, and weapon accep∣ted. [ 25] For your securitie from any treacherie (hauing no hostage woorthie to coun∣teruaile you) take my woord, which I esteeme aboue all respectes. Prepare there∣fore your armes to fight, but not your hart to malice; since true valure needes no other whetstone, then desire of honour.

[ 30] HAuing writte and sealed his letter, he deliuered it to the Heraulde, and with∣all tooke a faire chaine from off his owne necke, and gaue it him. And so with safe conuoy sent him away from out his Citie: and he being gone, Amphialus shewed vnto his mother, and some other of his chiefe Counsailours, what he had receyued, and howe he had aunswered: telling them withall, that he was deter∣mined [ 35] to aunswere the chalenge in his owne person. His mother with prayers authorized by motherly commaundement; his olde gouernour with perswasions mingled with reprehensions, (that he would rather affect the glorie of a priuate fighter, then of a wise Generall) Clinias with falling downe at his feete, and be∣seeching him to remember, that all their liues depended vppon his safetie, sought [ 40] all to dissuade him. But Amphialus (whose hart was enflamed with courage, and courage enflamed with affection) made an imperious resolution cutte off the tediousnesse of replyes, giuing them in charge, what they shoulde doo vppon all occasions, and particularly to deliuer the Ladies, if otherwise then well happened vnto him: onely desiring his mother, that she woulde bring Phi∣loclea [ 45] to a window, whence she might with ease perfectly discerne the combat. And so, as soone as the morning beganne to draw dewe from the fairest greenes, to washe her face withall, against the approach of the burning Sunne, hee

went to his stable, where himselfe chose out a horse, whom (though he was neere twentie yeere olde) he preferred for a peece of sure seruice, before a great number of yonger. His colour was of a browne bay, dapled thick with black spots; his for∣head marked with a white starre; to which, in all his bodie there was no part su∣table, but the left foote before; his mane and taile black, and thick, of goodly, and [ 5] well proportioned greatnes. He caused him to be trimmed with a sumptuous saddle of tawnie, and golde ennamell, enriched with pretious stones: his furniture was made into the fashion of the branches of a tree, from which the leaues were falling: and so artificiallie were the leaues made, that as the horse moued, it seemed indeed that the leaues wagged, as when the winde plaies with them; and being [ 10] made of a pale cloath of gold, they did beare the straw-coloured liuerie of ruine. His armour was also of tawnie and golde, but formed into the figure of flames darckened, as when they newelie brake the prison of a smoakie furnace. In his shielde he had painted the Torpedo fish. And so appointed; he caused himselfe, with his trumpet and squire (whom he had taken since the death of Ismenus) to be ferried [ 15] ouer into the Iland: a place well chosen for such a purpose. For, it was so plaine, as there was scarcely any bush, or hillock, either to vnleuell, or shadow it: of length and breadth enough, to trie the vttermost both of launce and sword, and the one end of it facing the castle, the other extending it selfe toward the campe, and no ac∣cesse to it, but by water: there could no secret trecherie be wrought, and for ma∣nifest [ 20] violence, ether side might haue time inough to succour their party.

But there he found Phalantus, alredy waiting for him vpon a horse, milke white, but that vpon his shoulder and withers, he was freckned with red staines, as when a few strawberies are scattered into a dish of creame. He had caused his mane and taile to be died in carnation; his reines were vine branches, which ingendring one [ 25] with the other, at the end, when it came to the bitte, there, for the bosse, brought foorth a cluster of grapes, by the workeman made so liuely, that it seemed, as the horse champed on his bitte, he chopped for them, and that it did make his mouth water, to see the grapes so neere him. His furniture behind was of vines, so artifici∣ally made, as it seemed the horse stood in the shadow of the vine, so pretily were [ 30] clusters of rubie grapes dispersed among the trappers which embraced his sides. His armour was blew, like the heauen, which a Sun did with his rayes (proportio∣nately deliuered) guild in most places. His shield was beautified with this deuice; A greyhound, which ouerrunning his fellow, and taking the hare, yet hurts it not when it takes it. The word was, The glorie, not the pray. [ 35]

But as soone as Amphialus landed, he sent his squire to Phalantus, to tell him, that there was the Knight, redy to know whether he had any thing to say to him. Pha∣lantus answered, that his answere now must be in the language of launces; and so each attended the warning of the trumpets, which were to sound at the appoint∣ment of foure iudges, who with cōsideration of the same, had deuided the ground. [ 40] Phalantus-his horse young, and feeling the youth of his master, stood coruetting; which being well gouerned by Phalantus, gaue such a glittering grace, as when the Sunne in a cleare day shines vpon a wauing water. Amphialus-horse stood panting vpon the ground, with his further foot before, as if he would for his masters cause begin to make himselfe angry: till the trumpet sounding together, Together they [ 45] set spurres to their horses, together took their launces from their thighes, conueied them vp into their restes together, together let them sinke downward; so as it was a

delectable sight, in a dangerous effect; and a pleasant consideration, that there was so perfect agreement, in so mortall disagreement: like a musick, made of cunning discords. But their horses keeping an euen line their masters had skilfully allotted vnto them, passed one by another without encountring, although either might feel [ 5] the angry breath of other. But the staues being come to a iust descent, but euen when the mark was ready to meet them, Amphialus was runne through the vam∣plate, and vnder the arme: so as the staffe appearing behind him, it semed to the be∣holders he had bene in danger. But he strake Phalantus iust vpon the gorget, so as he battred the lamms thereof, and made his head almost touch the back of his horse. [ 10] But either side hauing staied the spur, & vsed the bit to stop their horses fury, casting away the troncheons of their staues, & drawing their swords, they attended the se∣cond summons of the death-threatning trumpet, which quickly folowed; and they assoone making their horses answer their hands, with a gentle galop, set one toward the other, till being come in the neernes of litle more then a staues length. Amphi∣alus [ 15] trusting more to the strength, then to the nimblenes of his horse, put him foorth with speedie violence, and making his head ioyne to the others flanke, guiding his blow with discretion, and strengthning it with the course of his horse, strake Pha∣lantus vpon the head, in such sort, that his feeling sense did both dazell his sight, and astonish his hearing. But Phalantus (not accustomed to be vngratefull to such bene∣fites) [ 20] strake him vpon the side of his face, with such force, that he thought his iawe had bene cut asunder: though the faithfulnes of his armour indeede garded him from further damage. And so remayned they awhile, rather angry with fighting, then fighting for anger, till Amphialus-his horse, leaning harde vpon the other, and winning grounde, the other horse feeling himselfe prest, began to rise a little [ 25] before, as he was woont to doo in his coruette: which aduantage Amphialus ta∣king, set forward his owne horse with the further spurre, so as Phalantus-his horse came ouer with his master vnder him. Which Amphialus seeing, lighted, with in∣tention to helpe Phalantus. But his horse that had faulted, rather with vntimely arte, then want of force, gatte vp from burdning his burden, so as Phalantus (in the fall [ 30] hauing gotten his feete free off the stirrop) could (though ••omething bruised) a∣rise, and seeing Amphialus neere him, he asked him, Whether he had giuen him any help in remouing his horse. Amphialus said No. Truely sayd Phalantus, I asked it, be∣cause I would not willingly haue fought with him, that had had my life in his mer∣cie. But now (said Phalantus) before we proceed further, let me know who you are, [ 35] because neuer yet did any man bring me to the like fortune. Amphialus listing to keepe himselfe vnknowne, told him he was a Gentlemen, to whom Amphialus that day had giuen armour and horse to trie his valour, hauing neuer before ben in any combat worthy remēbrance. Ah, (said Phalantus in a rage) And must I be the ex∣ercise of your prentis-age? and with that, choler tooke away either the bruse, or the [ 40] feeling of the bruse, so as he entred a fresh into the cōbat, and boiling into his armes the disdaine of his hart, strake so thick vpon Amphialus, as if euery blow would faine haue ben foremost. But Amphialus (that many like trials had taught, great spending to leaue small remnants) let passe the storme with strong wards, and nimble auoi∣dings: till seeing his time fit, both for distaunce & nakednes, he strake him so cruell [ 45] a blow on the knee, that the poore Gentleman fell downe withall in a sowne.

But Amphialus, pittying approued valoure, made pretious by naturall curtesie, wēt to him, & taking off his head-piece to giue him aire, the young Knight (disdai∣ning

to buy life with yeelding) bad him vse his fortune: for he was resolued neuer to yeeld. No more you shall (said Amphialus) if it be not to my request, that you will account your selfe to haue great interest in me. Phalantus more ouercome by his kindnes, then by his fortune, desired yet once againe to know his name, who in his first beginning had shewed such furie in his force, and yet such stay in his surie. [ 5] Amphialus, then named himselfe, telling him withall, he would think his name much bettred, if it might be honored by the title of his friend. But no Baulme could be more comfortable to his wound, then the knowledge thereof was to his minde, when he knew his mishap should be excused by the renowmed valour of the other. And so promising each to other assurednes of good will, Phalantus, (of whom Am∣phialus [ 10] would haue no other raunsome, but his word of friendship) was conueyed into the campe, where he would but litle remaine among the enimies of Amphia∣lus: but went to seeke his aduentures other-where.

As for Amphialus he was receaued with triumph into the castle; although one might see by his eyes (humbly lifted vp to the window where Philoclea stood) that [ 15] he was rather suppliaunt, then victorious: which occasion Cecropia taking, (who as then stood by Philoclea, and had lately lefte Pamela in another roome, whence also she might see the combate) Sweet Lady (said she) now you may see, whether you haue cause to loue my sonne, who then lies vnder your feete, when he standes vpon the necke of his brauest enemies. Alas said Philoclea, a simple seruice to me, [ 20] me thinkes it is, to haue those, who come to succour me, destroied: If it be my dutie to call it loue, be it so: but the effects it brings foorth I confesse I account hatefull. Cecropia grew so angry with this vnkinde answere, that she could not ab∣stayne from telling her, that she was like them that could not sleepe, when they were softly layed: but that if her sonne would follow her counsell, he should take [ 25] another course with her: and so flang away from her.

Yet (knowing the desperate melancholy of Amphialus in like cases) framed to him a very thankefull message, poudring it with some hope-giuing phrases; which were of such ioy to Amphialus, that he (though against publike respect, and impor∣tunity of dissuaders) presently caused it to be made knowne to the campe, that [ 30] whatsoeuer Knight would trie the like fortune as Phalantus did, he should in like sort be answered: so as diuers of the valiantest, partly of themselues, partly at the in∣stigation of Basilius, attempted the combat with him: and according to euery ones humour, so were the causes of the challenge grounded: one laying treason to his charge; another preferring himselfe in the worthinesse to serue Philo∣clea; [ 35] a third, exalting some Ladies beautie beyonde either of the sisters; a fourth, laying disgraces to Loue it selfe, naming it the bewitcher of the witte, the rebell to Reason, the betrayer of resolution, the defiler of thoughts, the vnder∣miner of magnanimitie, the flatterer of vice, the slaue to weakenes, the infection of youth, the madnes of age; the curse of life, and reproch of death; a fifth, disday∣ning [ 40] to cast at lesse then at all, would make the cause of his quarrell the causers of loue, and proclayme his blasphemies against womankinde; that namely that sex was the ouersight of Nature, the disgrace of reasonablenes, the obstinate cowards, the slaue-borne tyrants, the shops of vanities, the guilded wethercocks; in whome cōscience is but peeuishnes, chastitie way wardnes, and gratefulnes a miracle. But all [ 45] these challenges (how well so euer endited) were so well answered, that some by death taught others, though past learning themselues; and some by yeelding gaue

themselues the lie for hauing blasphemed; to the great griefe of Basilius, so to see his Rebell preuaile, and in his owne sight to crowne himselfe with deserued honour.

Whereupon thirsting for reuenge, and else not hoping to preuaile, the best of his campe being already ouerthrowne; he sent a messenger to Argalus, in whose ap∣proued [ 5] courage and force, he had (and had cause) to haue great considence, with a letter; requiring him, to take this quarrell in hand, from which hee had hetherto spared him in respect of his late mariage. But now his honour, and (as he esteemed it) felicitie standing vpon it, hee coulde no longer forbeare to chalenge of him his faithfull seruice.

[ 10] The messenger made speede, and found Argalus at a castle of his owne, sitting in a parler with the faire Parthenia, he reading in a booke the stories of Hercules, she by him, as to heare him reade; but while his eyes looked on the booke, shee looked on his eies, and sometimes staying him with some prety question, not so much to bee resolued of the doubte; as to giue him occasion to looke vpon her. A happy couple, [ 15] he ioying in her, she ioying in her selfe, but in her selfe, because shee enioyed him: both encreasing their riches by giuing to ••ach other; each making one life double, because they made a double life one; where desire neuer wanted satisfaction, nor sa∣tisfaction euer bred sacietie; he ruling, because she would obey: or rather because she would obey, she therein ruling.

[ 20] But when the messenger came in with letters in his hand, and hast in his counte∣nance, though she knew not what to feare, yet she feared, because she knew not; but she rose, and went aside, while hee deliuered his letters and message; yet a far off she looked, now at the messenger, and then at her husband: the same feare, which made her loth to haue cause of feare, yet making her seeke cause to nourish her feare. And [ 25] well she found there was some serious matter; for her husbands countenance figu∣red some resolution betweene lothnesse and necessitie: and once his eie cast vpon her, and finding hers vpon him, he blushed; and she blushed, because hee blushed; and yet streight grew pale, because she knew not why he had blushed. But when he had read, and heard, and dispatched away the messenger (like a man in whom Ho∣nour [ 30] could not be rocked a sleepe by Affection) with promise quickly to follow; he came to Parthenia, and as sorie as might bee for parting, and yet more sorie for her sorrow, he gaue her the letter to reade. She with fearfull slownes tooke it, and with fearefull quicknesse read it; and hauing read it, Ah my Argalus (said she) and haue you made such hast to answere? and are you so soone resolued to leaue me? But hee [ 35] discoursing vnto her, how much it imported his honour (which since it was deare to him, he knew it would be deare vnto her) her reason ouerclowded with sorrow, suffered her not presently to replie, but left the charge thereof to teares, and sighes; which he not able to beare, left her alone, and went to giue order for his present de∣parture.

[ 40] But by that time he was armde, & readie to go, she had recouered a little strength of spirite againe and comming out, and seing him armed, and wanting nothing ••or his departure but her fearewell, she ran to him, tooke him by the arme, and kneeling downe without regard, who either heard her speach, or sawe her demeanour, My Argalus, my Argalus (said she) do not thus forsake me. Remēber, alas, Remēber that I [ 45] haue interest in you, which I wil neuer yeeld shalbe thus aduētured. Your valour is already sufficiently knowne: sufficiently haue you already done for your country: ennow, ennow there are besides you to loose lesse worthie liues. Woe is me, what

shall become of me, if you thus abandon mee? Then was it time for you to followe these aduentures, when you aduentured no body but your self, and were no bodies but your owne. But now pardon me, that now, or neuer, I claime mine owne; mine you are, and without me you can vndertake no danger: and will you endanger Par∣thenia? Parthenia shalbe in the battle of your fight: Parthenia shal smart in your paine [ 5] and your blood must bee bled by Parthenia. Deare Parthenia (said he) this is the first time, that euer you resisted my will: I thanke you for it; but perseuer not in it; and let not the teares of those most beloued eies be a presage vnto me of that, which you would not should happen. I shall liue, doubte not: for so great a blessing, as you are was not giuen vnto me, so soone to be depriued of it. Looke for me therefore short∣ly, [ 10] and victorious; and prepare a ioyfull welcome, and I will wish for no other tri∣umph. She answered not, but stood as it were thunder-striken with amazement: ••or true Loue made obedience stand vp against al other passions. But when he tooke her in his armes, and sought to printe his harte in her sweete lippes, she fell in a sounde, so as he was faine to leaue her to her Gentlewomen: and caried away by the tyran∣nie [ 15] of Honour, though with manie a backe-cast looke, and hartie grone, went to the campe. Where vnderstanding the notable victories of Amphialus, he thought to giue him some daies respite of rest, because he would not haue his victory disgraced by the others wearinesse. In which dayes, he sought by all meanes (hauing leaue to parley with him) to dissuade him from his enterprise: & then imparting his minde [ 20] to Basilius, because he founde Amphialus was inflexible, wrote his defie vnto him in this maner.

RIght famous Amphialus, if my persuasion in reason, or prayer in good will, might preuaile with you, you should by better meanes be like to obtaine your [ 25] desire. You shoulde make many braue enemies become your faithfull seruants, and and make your honor flie vp to heauen, being caried vp by both the wings of valure and iustice; whereof now it wants the latter. But since my suite, nor counsell can get no place in you, disdaine not to receiue a mortall chalenge, from a man so farre infe∣riour vnto you in vertue, as that I do not so much mislike of the deede, as I haue the [ 30] doer in admiration. Prepare therefore your selfe, according to the noble maner you haue vsed and thinke not lightly of neuer so weake an arme, which strikes with the sworde of iustice,

To this he quickely receiued this answere. [ 35]

MVch more famous Argalus, I whom neuer threatninges could make afraid, am now terrified by your noble courtesie. For well I knowe, from what height of vertue it doth proceed, and what cause I haue to doubt such vertue bent to my ru∣ine: but Loue, which iustifieth the vniustice you lay vnto me, doth also animate me against all daungers, since I come full of him by whom your selfe haue beene (if I [ 40] be not deceiued) sometimes conquered. I will therefore attend your appearaunce in the Ile, carying this aduantage with me, that as it shall be a singular honour if I get the victorie, so there can be no dishonour in being ouercome by Argalus.

The chalenge thus denounced, and accepted, Argalus was armed in a white ar∣mour, which was al guilded ouer with knots of womans haire, which came downe [ 45] from the crest of his head-peece, & spred it selfe in rich quātitie ouer all his armour: his furniture was cut out into the fashion of an Egle, whereof the beake (made into

a rich iewell) was fastened to the saddle, the taile couered the crooper of the horse, and the wings serued for trappers; which falling of ech side, as the horse stirred, the bird seemed to flie. His petrell and raines, were embrodered with feathers sutable vnto it: vpō his right arme he ware a sleeue, which his deare Parthenia had made for [ 5] him, to be worne in a iustes, in the time that successe was vngrateful to their well-deserued loue: it was full of bleeding hartes, though neuer intended to any blood∣die enterprise. In his shield (as his owne deuice) he had two Palme trees, neere one another, with a word signifying, In that sort flourishing. His horse was of a firie sorrel, with blacke feete, & blacke list on his back, who with open nostrels breathed warre, [ 10] before he could see an enemy: and now vp with one legge, and then with another, seemed to complaine of Nature, that she had made him any whit earthie.

But he had scarcely vewed the grounde of the Ilande, and considered the aduan∣tages (if any were) thereof, before the Castel boate had deliuered Amphialus, in all pointes prouided to giue a hard entertainmen••. And then sending ech to other th••ir [ 15] Squires in honourable maner, to knowe whether they should attende any further ceremony; the trumpets sounding, the horses with smooth running, the staues with vnshaked motion, obediently performed their cholericke commandementes. But when they drew nere, Argalus horse being hot, prest in with his head: which Amphialus perceiuing, knowing if he gaue him his side, it shoulde bee to his disad∣uauntage, [ 20] prest in also with him, so as both the horses & men met shoulder to shoul∣der, so as the horses (hurt as much with the striking, as being striken) tumbled down to the earth, daungerously to their maisters, but that they by strength nimble, & by vse skilfull, in the falling shunned the harme of the fall, and without more respite, drewe out their swordes with a gallant brauerie, eche striuing to shewe himselfe the [ 25] lesse endamaged, and to make knowne that they were glad, they had nowe nothing else to trust to, but their owne vertue. True it is, that Amphialus was the sooner vp; but Argalus had his sworde out the sooner: and then fell they to the cruellest com∣bate, that any present eye had seene. Their swords first, like Canons, battering down the walles of their armour, making breaches almost in euerie place for troupes of [ 30] wounds to enter. Amōg the rest, Argalus gaue a great wound to Amphialus disarmed face; though part of the force of it Amphialus warded vpon his shielde, and with-all (first casting his eie vp to Philocleas Window, as if he had fetched his courage thēce) feyning to entend the same sort of blow, turned his sworde, and with a mightie re∣uerse, gaue a cruell wounde to the right arme of Argalus, the vnfaythfull armour [ 35] yeelding to the swords strong-guiuded sharpenesse. But though the blood accused the hurt of Argalus, yet would he in no action of his confesse it: but keeping himself in a lower warde, stoode watching with timely thrustes to repaire his losse; which quickly he did. For Amphialus (following his fawning fortune) laid on so thicke vp∣on Argalus, that his shield had almost fallen peece-meale to the earth, when Argalus [ 40] comming in with his right foot, and somthing stowping to come vnder his armour, thrust him into the belly daungerously, and mortally it woulde haue beene but that, with the blowe before, Amphialus had ouer striken himselfe so, as he fell side-ward downe, and with falling saued himselfe from ruine, The sworde by that meanes slipping aside, and not pearcing more deepely. Argalus seeing him fall, threatning [ 45] with voice and sworde, bad him yeelde. But hee striuing without aunswere to rise, Argalus strake with all his might vpon his head. But his hurt arme not able to mai∣ster so sounde a force, let the swoorde fall so, as Amphialus, though astonished with

the blowe, could arispe: which Argalus considering, ranne in to grasp with him, & so closed together; falling so to the grounde, now one getting aboue, and then the other; at length, both wearie of so vnlouely embracements, with a dissending con∣sent gate vp, and went to their swordes: but happened eche of his enemies: where Argalus finding his foes sworde garnished in his blood, his harte rase with the same [ 5] swoord to reuenge it, and on that blade to allie their bloods together. But his mind was euil wayted-on by his lamed force, so as he receiued stil more & more wounds which made all his armour seeme to blush, that it had defended his master no bet∣ter. But Amphialus perceiuing it, & waying the small hatefulnesse of their quarrell, with the worthinesse of the Knight, desired him to take pitie of himselfe. But Ar∣galus, [ 10] the more repining, the more he founde himselfe in disaduauntage, filling his veynes with spite in steade of blood, and making courage arise against faintnesse, (like a Candle, which a little before it goes out, giues then the greatest blaze) so did he vnite all his force, that casting away the little remnaunt of his shielde, and taking his sword in both hands, he stroke such a notable blow, that he cleft his shield [ 15] armour, and arme almost to the bone.

But then Amphialus forgat all ceremonies, & with cruell blowes made more of his best blood succeed the rest; til his hand being staied by his eare, his eare filled with a pitifull crie, the crie guided his sight to an excellent faire Ladie, who came running as fast as she could, and yet because she could not as fast as she would, shee sent her [ 20] lamentable voyce before her: and being come, and being knowne to them both, to be the beautifull Parthenia, (who had that night dreamed shee saw her husbande in such estate, as shee then found him, which made her make such haste thither) they both maruailed. But Parthenia ranne between them (feare of loue making her ••orget the feare of Nature) and then fel downe at their feete, determining so to part them, [ 25] till shee coulde get breathe to sigh out her dolefull speeches: and when her breath (which running had spent, & dismayednesse made slowe to returne) had by sobbes; gotten into her sorow-closed breast, for a while she could say nothing, but, O wret∣ched eyes of mine, O wailefull sight, O day of darkenesse: at length turning her eyes (where in sorrow swamme) to Amphialus, My Lorde (saide she) it is saide you loue; [ 30] in the power of that loue, I beseech you to leaue of this combate, as euer your harte may finde comfort in his affection, euen for her sake, I craue it: or if you be mortally determined, be so pitifull vnto me, as first to kill me, that I may not see the death of Argalus. Amphialus was about to haue aunswered, when Argalus, vexed with his For∣tune, but most vexed that she shoulde see him in that fortune, Ah Parthenia (said he) [ 35] neuer till now vnwelcome vnto me, do you come to get my life by request? And cā∣not Argalus liue but by request? Is that a life? With that he went aside, for fear of hur∣ting her, & would haue begun the cōbate afresh. But Amphialus not only cōiured by that which held the Monarchie of his mind, but euen in his noble hart melting with cōpassion at so passionate a sight, desired him to withhold his hāds, for that he should [ 40] strike one, who sought his fauour, & would not make resistaūce. A notable example of the wonderful effectes of Vertue, where the conquerour, sought for friendship of the conquered, & the conquered would not pardon the conquerour: both indeede being of that minde to loue eche other for accepting, but not for giuing mercie, & neyther af••ected to ouer-liue a dishonour: so that Argalus not so much striuing with [ 45] Amphialus (for if he had had him in the like sorte, in like sorte he woulde haue dealt with him) as labouring against his owne power (which he chiefly despised) set him∣selfe

forward, stretching his strength to the vttermost. But the fire of that strife, blowen with his inward rage, boyled out his bloud in such aboundance, that hee was driuen to rest him vpon the pommel of his sworde: and then each thing be∣ginning to turne round in the daunce of Death before his eyes, his sight both daz∣led [ 5] & dimmed, till (thinking to sit downe) he fel in a sowne, Parthenia, and Amphi∣alus both hastely went vnto him: Amphialus tooke off his helmet, and Parthenia laid his head in her lap, tearing of her linnen sleues & partlet, to serue about his wounds to bind which, shee tooke of her hair-lace, and woulde haue cut of her faire haire herselfe, but that the squires and iudges came in with fitter things for the purpose: [ 10] while she bewayled her selfe with so lamentable sweetnes, as was inough to haue taught sorrow to the gladdest thoughts, and haue engraued it in the mindes of har∣dest mettall.

O Parthenia, no more Parthenia (said she) What art thou? what seest thou? how is thy blisse in a moment fallen? how art thou, euen-now before all Ladies the ex∣ample [ 15] of perfect happines, and nowe the gasing-stocke of endles miserie? O God, what hath bene my desert to be thus punished? or if such haue bene my desert, why was I not in my selfe punished? O wandring life, to what wildernes wouldst thou lead me? But Sorow, I hope thou art sharp inough to saue my labour from other remedies. Argalus, Argalus, I will folow thee, I will follow thee.

[ 20] But with that Argalus came out of his sowne, and lifting vp his languishing eyes (which a paineful rest, and iron sleep did seeke to lock vp) seeing her, in whom (e∣uen dying) he liued, and him selfe seated in so beloued a place, it seemed a little cheerefull bloud came vp to his cheekes, like a burning cole, almost dead, if some breath a little reuiue it: and forcing vp (the best he coulde) his feeble voice, My [ 25] deare, my better halfe (saide hee) I finde I must now leaue thee: and by that sweete hand, and faire eyes of thine I sweare, that Death bringes nothing with it to grieue me, but that I must leaue thee, and cannot remaine to answere part of thy infinit de∣serts, with being some comfort vnto thee. But since so it pleaseth him, whose wise∣dome and goodnesse guideth all, put thy confidence in him, and one day wee shall [ 30] blessedly meet againe, neuer to depart: meane while liue happily, deare Parthenia, and I perswade my selfe, it will encrease the blessednes of my soule, so to see thee. Loue well the remembrance of thy louing, and truely louing, Argalus: and let not (with that word he sighed) this disgrace of mine, make thee one day thinke, thou hadst an vnwoorthie husband. They could scarcely vnderstand the last wordes: for [ 35] Death began to seaze him selfe of his harte, neither coulde Parthenia make answere, so full was her breast of anguish. But while the other sought to stanch his remediles wounds, she with her kisses made him happie: for his last breath was deliuered into her mouth.

But when indeede she found his ghost was gone, then Sorrowe lost the witte of [ 40] vtterance, and gro••e ragefull, and madde, so that shee tare her beautifull face, and rent her haire, ••••••••o••gh they coulde serue for nothing, since Argalus was gone; till Amphialus (so ••••oued with pittie of that sight, as that hee honoured his aduersaries death with ••••••es) caused her (with the helpe of her women that came with her partelie by ••••rce, to be conueyed into the boat, with the dead body of Argalus, from [ 45] which she ••ould not depart. And being come of the other side, there she was recea∣ued by Ba••••••••us him self, with all the funerall pompe of militarie discipline, trayling all their ••••••ignes vpon the ground, making these warlike instrumentes sound dole∣full

notes, and Basilius (with comfort in his mouth, and woe in his face) sought to perswade some ease into Parthenias mind: but all was as easefull to her, as the hand∣ling of sore woundes: all the honour done, being to her but the triumph of her ru∣ine, she finding no comfort, but in desperate yeelding to Sorrow: and rather deter∣mined to hate her selfe, if euer she shoulde finde ease thereof. And well might shee [ 5] heare as she past through the Campe, the great prayses spoken of her husbande, which all were recordes of her losse. But the more excellent he was (being indeede accounted seconde to none in all Greece) the more did the breath of those praises, beare vp the winges of Amphialus-his fame: to whom yet (such was his case) that Trophe vpon Trophe, still did but builde vp the monument of his thraldome; hee [ 10] euer finding himselfe in such fauour of Philoclea, that shee was most absent, when he was present with her; and euer sorriest, when he had best successe: which would haue made him renounce all comfort, but that his mother, with diuersity of deui∣ses, kept vp his hart.

But while he allayed thus his outward glorie, with inward discomfort, hee was [ 15] like to haue bene ouertaken with a notable treason, the beginning wherof (though meerely ridiculous) had like to haue brought forth vnto him a weeping effect.

Among other that attended Basilius in this expedition, Damaetas was one; whether to be present with him, or absent from Miso: once, certaine it was without any mind to make his sword cursed by any widow. Now being in the campe, while each talke [ 20] semed iniurious, which did not acknowledge some duety to the fame of Amphialus, it fell out sometimes in communication, that as the speech of heauen doth often be∣get the mentiō of hel, so the admirable prowes of Amphialus (by a contrary) brought forth the remembrance of the cowardise of Clinias: in so much, as it grew almost to a prouerb, As very a cowarde, as Clinias. Describing him in such sort, that in the ende, [ 25] Damaetas began to thinke with himselfe, that if hee made a chalenge vnto him, hee would neuer answere it; and that then hee shoulde greatly encrease the fauourable conceite of B••silius. This fancie of his he vttered to a young Gentleman, that waited vpon Philanax, in whose friendship he had especiall confidence, because he haunted his company, laughing often merely at his speeches, and not a little extolling the [ 30] goodly dotes of Mopsa. The young Gentleman as glad, as if hee had founde a Hare sitting, egd him on, breaking the matter with Philanax, and then (for feare the hu∣mour should quayle in him) wrote a challenge him selfe for Damaetas, and brought it to him. But when Damaetas read it, putting his head on his shoulder, and somwhat smiling; he said, it was prettie indeed; but that it had not a loftie stile enough: and [ 35] so would needes indite it in this sort.

O Clinias, thou Clinias, the wickedest worme that euer went vpō two legges; the very fritter of fraude, and seething pot of iniquitie: I Damaetas, chiefe gouernour of all the royall cat∣tel, & also of Pamela (whom thy Maister most perniciously ••ath sug••••sted out of my domini∣on) [ 40] doo defie thee, in a mortall affray from the bodkin to the pike vpwarde. Which if thou doost presume to take in hande, I will out of that superfluous bodie of thine make t•••• soule to bee eua∣cuated.

The young Gentleman seemed dumbe-striken with admiration, a••d presently [ 45] tooke vpon him to bee the bearer thereof, while the heate of the fit la••••••d, and ha∣uing gotten leaue of Basilius (euery body helping on, to ease his mind o••••rcharged

with melancholy) he went into the towne according to the manner before time vsed, and in the presence of Amphialus deliuered this letter to Clinias; desiring to haue an answere, which might be fit for his reputation. Clinias opened it, read it; and in the reading, his bloud not da••ing to be in so daungerous a place, went out [ 5] of his face, and hid it selfe more inwardly: and his very wordes (as if they were afraide of blowes) came very slowly out of his mouth: but, aswell as his panting breath would vtter it, he bad him tell the lowte that sente him, that he disdained to haue any thing to doo with him. But Amphialus, perceauing the matter, tooke him aside, and very earnestly dealt with him not to shame himselfe; Amphialus [ 10] onely desirous to bring it to passe to make some sport to Philoclea, but not being able to perswade with him, Amphialus licenced the Gentleman, telling him, that by next morning he should haue answere.

The yong Gentleman (sory he had sped no better) returned to Damaetas, who had fetched many a sower-breathed sigh, for feare Clinias would accept the chalēge. [ 15] But whē he perceiued by his trusty messenger, that this delay was in effect a denial, there being no disposition in him to accept it; then lo, Damaetas began to speake his lowd voice, to looke big, to march vp & down, & in his march to lift his legs higher then he was wont, swearing by no meane deuotions, that the wals should not keepe the coward frō him, but he would fetch him out of his connie-berrie: and then was [ 20] hotter then euer to prouide himselfe of horse & armour, saying, he would go to the Iland brauely addoubed, & shew himself to his charge Pamela. To this purpose ma∣ny willing hands were about him, letting him haue reynes, pettrell, with the rest of the furniture, and very braue bases; but all comming from diuers houses, nether in coulour nor fashion, shewing any kinred one with another; but that liked Damaetas [ 25] the better: for that he thought would argue, that he was maister of many braue fur∣nitures. Then gaue he order to a painter for his deuice; which was, a plowe with the oxen lewsed from it, a sword with a great number of armes and legges cut off; and lastly a great armie of pen and inke-hornes, and bookes. Nether did he stick to tell the secrete of his intent, which was, that he had left off the plowe, to doo such [ 30] bloudy deedes with his swoorde, as many inkehornes and bookes should be em∣ployed about the historifying of them: and being asked, why he set no word vnto it, he said, that was indeed like the painter, that sayeth in his picture, Here is the dog, and there is the Hare: & with that he laughed so perfectly, as was great consolation to the beholders. Yet remembring, that Miso would not take it well at his returne, if [ 35] he forgat his dutie to her, he caused in a border about to be written:

Miso mine owne pigsnie, thou shalt heare news of Damaetas.

Thus all things being condignely ordered, with an ill fauoured impatiencie he waited, vntill the next morning, that he might make a muster of him selfe in the [ 40] Iland; often asking them that very diligently wayted vpon him, whether it were not pittie, that such a coward, as Clinias, should fet his runaway feete vpon the face of the earth?

But as he was by diuers principall yong Gentlemen, to his no small glory, lifted vp on horsebacke, comes me a page of Amphialus, who with humble smiling re∣uerence [ 45] deliuered a letter vnto him from Clinias: whom Amphialus had brought to this, first with perswasions (that for certaine, if he did accept the combat, Damae∣tas would neuer dare to appeare, and that then the honour should be his) but 〈1 page missing〉〈1 page missing〉 〈1 page missing〉〈1 page missing〉

and then willed him to lie downe vpon the earth as flat as he could. Clinias obey∣ed; and Damaetas (who neuer could thinke himselfe safe, till Clinias were dead) be∣gan to thinke with himselfe, that if he strake at him with his sworde, if he did not kill him at the first blowe, that then Clinias might happe to arise, and reuenge him∣selfe. Therefore he thought best to kneele downe vpon him, and with a great [ 5] whittle he had (hauing disarmed his heade) to cut his throate, which he had vsed so with Calues, as he had no small dexteritie in it. But while he sought for his Knife, which vnder his armour he could not well finde out, and that Clinias lay with so sheepish a quietnes, as if he would haue beene glad to haue his throate cut for feare of more paine, the Iudges came in, and tooke Damaetas from off [ 10] him, telling him he did against the lawe of Armes, hauing promised life, if hee threwe away his sworde. Damaetas was loath to consent, till they sware, they would not suffer him to fight any more, when he was vp: and then more forced, then perswaded, he let him rise, crowing ouer him, and warning him to take heede how he dealt any more with any that came of his fathers kinred. But thus this combate of [ 15] cowardes being finished, Damaetas was with much mirth and melodie receiued into the campe as victorious, neuer a Page there failing to waite vpon this Triumph.

But Clinias, though he wanted hart to preuent shame, yet he wanted not wit to feele shame; not so much repining at it for the abhorring of shame, as for the discommodities, that to them that are shamed, ensue. For well he deemed, it would [ 20] be a great barre to his practize, and a pulling on of iniuries, when men needed not care, how they vsed him. Insomuch, that Clinias (finding himselfe the scorning-stocke of euery companie) fell with repining to hate the cause thereof; and hate in a cowards hart, could set it selfe no other limites, but death. Which purpose was well egged on by representing vnto himselfe, what daunger he lately was in; [ 25] which still kept no lesse ougly figure in his minde, then when it was present: and quickly (euen in his dissembling countenance) might be discerned a concealed grudge. For though he forced in himselfe a farre more diligent officiousnesse to∣ward Amphialus, then euer before, yet a leering eye vpon the one side at him, a countenance still framed to smiling before him (how little cause soeuer there was [ 30] of smiling) and grombling behind him, at any of his commandements, with an vn∣certaine manner of behauiour: his words comming out, though full of flatterie, yet slowly, and hoarcely pronounced, might well haue blazed, what armes his false hart bare. But despised, because of his cowardlinesse, and not marked, because de∣spised, he had the freer scope of practize. Which he did the more desperately enter [ 35] into, because the dayly dangers Amphialus did submit himselfe into, made Clinias assuredly looke for his ouerthrow, and for his owne consequently, if he did not re∣deme his former treason to Basilius, with a more treasonable falshood toward Am∣phialus. His chiefe care therefore was, to finde out among all sorts of the Amphia∣lians, whom either like feare, tediousnes of the siege, or discontentment of some vn∣satisfied [ 40] ambition would make apt to dig in the same mine that he did: & some al∣redy of welthy weary folks, & vnconstāt youths (who had not found such sudden successe as they had promised thēselues) he had made stoupe to his lure. But of none he made so good account as of Artesia, sister to the late slain Ismenus, & the chiefe of the six maids, who had trained out the Princesses to their banket of miserie: so much [ 45] did the sharpnes of her wit counteruaile (as he thought) any other defects of her sex: for she had vndertaken that dangerous practise by the persuasion of Cecropia;

who assured her that the two princesses should be made away; and then Amphialus wold marry her: which she was the apter to beleue, by some false persuasiō her glas had giuen her of her own incomparable excellēcies, & by the great fauor she knew he bare to her brother Ismenus, which (like a self-flattering womā) she cōceiued was [ 5] done for her sake. But when she had atchieued her attempt, and that she found the Princesses were so far frō their intended death, as that the one of them was like to be her souereigne, & that neither her seruice had woon of Amphialus much more then ordinary fauor, nor her ouer-large offring herselfe to a mind otherwise owed, had obteined a loked-for acceptatiō; disdain to be disdained spite of a frustrat hope, [ 10] & perchance vnquenched lust-growne rage, made her vnquiet thoughts find no o∣ther rest, but malice: which was increased by the death of her brother, whom she iudged neither succoured against Philanax, nor reuenged vpō Philanax. But all these coles were wel blowne by the cōpany she especially kept with Zelmane, all this time of her imprisonment. For finding her presence vncheerfull to the mourning Philo∣clea, [ 15] and contemned of the hie harted Pamela, she spent her time most with Zelmane. Who though at the first hardly brooking the instrument of their miserie, learning cunning in the schoole of aduersitie, in time framed her self to yeeld her acceptable intertainment. For Zelmane, when she had by that vnexpected mischiefe her bodie imprisoned, her valure ouermastred, her wit beguiled, her desires barred, her loue e∣clipsed; [ 20] assured of euill, fearing worse, able to know Philocleas misfortune, and not able to succour her, she was a great while, before the greatnes of her hart could des∣cend to sorow, but rather rose boyling vp in spight and disdain; Reason hardly ma∣king Courage beleeue, that it was distressed: but as if the walles would be afraid of her, so would her lookes shoote out threatning vpon them. But the fetters of serui∣tude [ 25] (growing heauier with wearing) made her feele her case, and the little preuai∣ling of repining: and then griefe gat a seate in her softned mind, making sweetenesse of passed comforts by due title claime teares of present discomforts: and since her fortune made her able to helpe as litle as any bodie, yet to be able to waile as much as any bodie; solitarie Sorrow, with a continuall circle in herselfe, going out at her [ 30] owne mouth, to come in againe at her owne eares. Then was the name of Philoclea graued in the glas windowes, and by the foolish idolatrie of affection, no sooner written, then adored; and no sooner adored, then pittied: all the wonted praises (she was wont to giue vnto her) being now but figures of rethorick to amplifie the iniuries of misfortune; against which being alone, she would often make inuectiue [ 35] declamations, methodized only by raging sorow.

But when Artesia did insinuat herselfe into her acquaintance, she gaue the go∣uernment of her courage to wit, & was content to familiarize herselfe with her: so much the rather, as that she perceiued in her certaine flawes of il-concealed discon∣tentmēt. Insomuch that whē Zelmane would sweeten her mouth with the praises of [ 40] the sisters, especially setting forth their noble gratefulnes, in neuer forgetting welin∣tended seruices, & inuoking the iustice of the gods, not to suffer such treasures to be wrōgfully hidden, & somtimes with a kind vnkindnes, charging Artesia that she had ben abused to abuse so worthy persons: Artesia (though falsly) wold protest, that she had bin beguiled in it, neuer meaning other matter thē recreatiō: & yet withall (by [ 45] alleaging how vngratefully she was dealt with) it was easie to be seene, it was the vn∣rewarding, and not the euill employing her seruice, which grieued her. But Zelmane (vsing her own bias to bowle neer the mistres of her own thoughts) was content to 〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉

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lende her beleefe, and withall, to magnifie her desert, if willingly she would deliuer, whom vnwillingly she had imprisoned; leauing no argument which might tickle ambition, or flatter reuenge. So that Artesia, (pusht ••orward by Clinias, & drawne on ward by Zelmane) bound her selfe to that practise; wherin Zelmane (for her part) desired no more, but to haue armour and weapons brought into her chamber, not [ 5] doubting therwith to perfourme any thing, how impossible soeuer, which longing Loue can perswade, and inuincible Valour dare promise.

But Clinias (whose faith could neuer comprehende the misteries of Courage) perswaded Artesia, while he by corruption had drawne the guard of one gate, to open it (when he would appoint the time) to the enemie: that she should impoyson [ 10] Amphialus, which she might the easier do, because she her selfe had vsed to make the broaths, when Amphialus (either wearied or wounded) did vse such diet. And all things alredy were ready to be put in execution, whē they thought best to break the matter with the two excellent sisters, not doubting of their consent in a thing so behoofefull to thēselues: their reasons being, that the Princesses knowing their [ 15] seruice, might be sure to preserue them from the fury of the entring souldiers: whereof Clinias (euen so) could scarcely be sufficiently certaine: and withall, ma∣king them priuie to their action, to binde them afterwardes to a promised grateful∣nes towards them. They went therefore at one time, when they knew them to be alone, Clinias to Philoclea, and Artesia to Pamela: and Clinias, with no fewe words, [ 20] did set forth what an exploite was intended for her seruice. But Philoclea (in whose cleere minde treason could finde no hiding place) told him, that she would be glad, if he could perswade her cosin to deliuer her, and that she would neuer forget his seruice therein: but that she desired him to lay downe any such way of mischiefe, for that (for her part) she would rather yeeld to perpetuall imprisonment, then con∣sent [ 25] to the destroying her cosin, who (she knewe) loued her, though wronged her. This vnlooked-for answere amazed Clinias, so that he had no other remedie in his minde, but to kneele downe to Philoclea, and beseech her to keepe it secret, conside∣ring that the intention was for her seruice: and vowing (since she misliked it) to proceed no further therein. She comforted him with promise of silence, which she [ 30] perfourmed.

But that little auayled: for Artesia hauing in like sort opened this deuice to Pa∣mela, she (in whose mind Vertue gouerned with the scepter of Knowledge) hating so horrible a wickednes, and streight iudging what was fitte to doo, Wicked wo∣man (said she) whose vnrepenting harte can finde no way to amend treason, but [ 35] by treason: now the time is come, that thy wretched wiles haue caught thy selfe in thine owne nette: as for me, let the Gods dispose of me as shall please them; but sure it shall be no such way, nor way-leader, by which I will come to libertie. This she spake something with a lowder voice then she was woont to vse, so as Cecropia heard the noise; who was (sooner then Artesia imagined she would) come vp, to [ 40] bring Pamela to a window, where she might see a notable skirmish happened in the Campe, as she thought, among themselues: and being a cunning fisher in troubled waters, streight found by their voices and gestures, there was some matter of con∣sequence, which she desired Pamela to tell her. Aske of her (said Pamela) and learne to know, that who do falshoode to their superiours, teach falshoode to their infe∣riours. [ 45] More she would not say. But Cecropia taking away the each-way guiltie Ar∣tesia, with feare of torture, gat of her the whole practise: so as Zelmane was the

more closely imprisoned, and Clinias (with the rest of his corrupted mates, accor∣ding to their merites) executed: For, as for Artesia, shee was but lockt vp in her chamber, Amphialus not consenting (for the loue hee bare to Ismenus) that further punishment should be laide vpon her.

[ 5] But the noyse they heard in the campe, was occasiō of the famous Prince Anaxius, nephewe to the Giant Euardes whom Pyrocles slew: A Prince, of body exceedingly strong; in armes so skilfull and fortunate, as no man was thought to excell him; of courage that knew not howe to feare: partes worthie praise, if they had not beene guyded by pride, and followed by vniustice. For by a strange composition of mind, [ 10] there was no man more tenderly sensible in any thing offered to himselfe, which in the farthest-fette construction, might be wrested to the name of wrong; no man, that in his owne actions could worse distinguish betweene Valour and Violence: So proud, as he could not abstaine from a Thraso-like boasting, and yet (so vnluckie a lodging his vertues had gotten) he would neuer boast more then he would accom∣plish: [ 15] falsly accounting an vnflexible anger, a couragious constancie: esteeming feare, and astonishment, righter causes of admiration, then Loue and Honour. This man had foure sundrie times fought with Amphialus, but Mars had bene so vnpar∣tiall an arbiter, that neither side gate aduauntage of the other. But in the end it hap∣ned, that Anaxius found Amphialus (vnknowen) in a great danger, and saued his [ 20] life: whereupon (louing his owne benefite) began to fauour him, so much the more as, thinking so well of himselfe, he coulde not choose but like him, whom he found a match for himselfe: which at last grewe to as much friendship towardes him, as could by a proud harte conceiued. So as in this trauaile (seeking Pyrocles to be re∣uenged of his vncles death) hearing of this siege, neuer taking paines to examine [ 25] the quarrell (like a man whose will was his God, and his hand his lawe taking with him his two brothers (men accounted little inferiour to him selfe in martiall mat∣ters) and two hundred chosen horsemen (with whome hee thought him selfe able to conquere the world) yet commaunding the rest of his forces to follow, hee him∣selfe vpon such an vnexpected suddainnesse entred in vpon the backe of Basilius, that [ 30] many with great vnkindnesse tooke their death, not knowing why, nor how they were so murdred. There, if euer, did he make knowne the wonderfulnes of his force. But the valiant, and faithfull Philanax, with well gouerned speed made such head a∣gainst him, as would haue shewed, how soone Courage falles in the ditch which hath not the eie of Wisdome: but that Amphialus at the same time issued out, and [ 35] winning with an abundaunce of courage one of the sconses, which Basilius had buil∣ded, made waie for his friend Anaxius with great losse of both sides, but especially of the Basilians; such notable monuments had those two swords especially lefte of their Maisters redoubted worthynesse.

There with the respect fit to his estate, the honour dewe to his worthinesse, and [ 40] the kindnesse which accompanies friendship (made fast by enterchaunged benefits) did Amphialus enforce him selfe (as much as in a besieged towne he could) to make Anaxius know, that his succour was not so needefull, as his presence gratefull. For causing the streetes and houses of the towne to witnes his welcome (making both souldiers and Magistrates in their countenaunces to shewe their gladnesse of him) [ 45] he led him to his mother, whom hee besought to entertaine him with no lesse loue and kindnesse, then as one, who once had saued her sonnes life, and now came to saue both life and honour. Tush (said Anaxius, speaking alowde, looking vpon his

brothers) I am onely sorie there are not halfe a dozen Kinges more about you: that what Anaxius can do, might be the better manifested. His brothers smiled, as though he had ouer-modestly spoken farre vnderneath the pitch of his power. Thē was he disarmed at the earnest request of Amphialus: for Anaxius boiled with desire to issue out vppon the enemies, perswading himself, that the Sun should not be sette, before [ 5] he had ouerthrown them. And hauing reposed himselfe, Amphialus asked him, whe∣ther he would visite the yong Princesses. But Anaxius whispered him in the eare: In trueth (saide hee) deare friende Amphialus, though I am none of those, that loue to speake of themselues, I neuer came yet in companie of Ladies, but that they fell in loue with me. And I that in my hart scorne them as a peeuish paltrie sexe, not woor∣thie [ 10] to communicate with my vertues, woulde not doo you the wrong: since (as I heare) you doo debase your selfe so much as to affect them. The curteous Amphialus could haue beene angrie with him for those wordes; but knowing his humour suf∣fered him to daunce to his owne musicke: and gaue himselfe to entertaine both him and his brothers, with as cheerefull a maner, as coulde issue from a mind whom [ 15] vnluckie loue had filled with melancholie. For to Anaxius he yeelded the directiō of all. He gaue the watchwoorde, and if any grace were graunted, the meanes were to be made to Anaxius. And that night when supper was ended, wherein Amphialus woulde needes himselfe waite vpon him, he caused in Boates vpon the Lake an ex∣cellent musicke to be ordered: which, though Anaxius might conceiue was for his [ 20] honour, yet indeede he was but the Bricke-wall to conuey it to the eares of the be∣loued Philoclea.

The musicke was of Cornets, whereof one aunswering the other, with a sweete emulation, striuing for the glorie of musicke, and striking vpon the smooth face of the quiet Lake, was then deliuered vp to the castle walles, which with a proude re∣••erberation, [ 25] spreading it into the aire; it seemed before the harmonie came to the eare, that it had enriched it selfe in trauaile, the nature of those places adding melo∣die to that melodious instrument. And when a while that instrument had made a braue proclamation to all vnpossessed mindes of attention, an excellent consort streight followed of fiue Violles, and as many voyces; which all being but Oratours [ 30] of their maisters passions, bestowed this song vppon her, that thought vppon ano∣ther matter.

THe Fire to see my wrongs for anger burneth: [ 35] The Aire in raine for my affliction weepeth: The Sea to ebbe for griefe his flowing turneth: The Earth with pittie dul his center keepeth Fame is with wonder blazed: Time runnes away for sorrow: [ 40] Place standeth still amazed, To see my night of euils, which hath no morrowe. Alas all onely she no pittie taketh To know my miseries, but chaste and cruell My fall her glory maketh; [ 45] Yet still her eyes giue to my flames their fuell.

Fire, burne me quite till sense of burning leaue me: Aire, let me drawe thy breath no more in anguish: Sea, drown'd in thee of tedious life bereaue me: Earth, take this earth wherein my spirits languish. [ 5] Fame, say I was not borne: Time, hast my dying hower: Place, see my graue vptorne: Fire, aire, sea, earth, fame, time, place show your power. Alas from all their helpes I am exiled: [ 10] For hers am I, and Death feares her displeasure. Fie Death thou art beguiled: Though I be hers, she makes of me no treasure.

But Anaxius (seeming a weary before it was ended) tolde Amphialus, that for [ 15] his part he liked no musick, but the neighing of horses, the sound of trumpets, and the cries of yeelding persons: and therefore desired, that the next morning they should issue vpō the same place, wher they had ētred that day, not doubting to make them quickely a wearie of being the besiegers of Anaxius. Amphialus, who had no whit lesse courage, though nothing blowne vp with pride, willingly condiscended [ 20] and so the next morning (giuing false alarum to the other side of the campe) Am∣phialus at Anaxius earnest request, staying within the towne to see it garded, Anaxius and his brethren, Lycurgus, and Zoilus, sallied out with the best chosen men. But Ba∣silius (hauing bene the last day some what vnprouided) now had better fortified the ouerthrowne sconse; and so well had prepared euery thing for defence, that it was [ 25] impossible for any valour from within, to preuaile. Yet thinges were perfourmed by Anaxius beyonde the credite of the credulous. For thrife (valiantly followed by his brothers) did he set vp his banner vpon the rampire of the enemie: though thrise againe by the multitude, & aduauntage of the place, but especially by the comming of three valiant Knights, he were driuen downe againe. Numbers there were that [ 30] day, whose deathes and ouerthrowes were excused by the well knowen sworde of Anaxius: but the rest, by the length of time & iniurie of Historians, haue bene wrap∣ped vp in darke forgetfulnesse: onely Tressennius is spoken of, because when all a∣bandoned the place, he onely made head to Anaxius; till hauing lost one of his legs, yet not lost the harte of fighting, Lycurgus (second brother to Anaxius) cruellie mur∣thered [ 35] him; Anaxius him selfe disdayning any further to deale with him.

But so farre had Anaxius at the third time preuayled, that now the Basilians began to let their courage descende to their feete, Basilius, & Philanax in vaine striuing with reuerence of authoritie to bridle the flight of astonishment, and to teach Feare dis∣cretion: so that Amphialus, seeing Victorie shewe such a flattering countenaunce to [ 40] him, came out with all his force; hoping that day to end the siege.

But that fancie altered quicklie by the suddaine comming to the other side of three Knights, whereof the one was in white armour, the other in greene, and the third by his blacke armour; and deuice streight knowne to be the notable Knight, who the first day had giuen Fortune so short a stoppe with his notable deedes and [ 45] fighting hand to hand the deemed inuincible Amphialus. Fonthe very cowardes no sooner saw him, but as borrowing some of his spirit, they went like yong Eagles to the pray, vnder the wing of their damme. For the three aduenturers, not content 〈1 page missing〉〈1 page missing〉 〈1 page missing〉〈1 page missing〉

on. For her exceeding faire eyes, hauing with continual weeping gotten a little red∣nesse about them; her roundy sweetly swelling lippes a little trembling, as though they kissed their neighbour death; in her cheekes the whitenesse striuing by little & little to get vpō the rosines of thē; her necke, a necke indeed of Alablaster, displaying the wound, which with most daintie blood laboured to drowne his owne beauties; [ 5] so as here was a riuer of purest redde, there an Iland of perfittest white, each giuing lustre to the other; with the sweete countenance (God-knowes) full of an vnafected languishing: though these thinges to a grosly conceauing sense might seeme disgra∣ces; yet••indeed were they but apparaling beautie in a new fashion, which all looked-vpon thorough the spectacles of pittie, did euen encrease the lynes of her naturall [ 10] fairenes, so as Amphialus was astonished with griefe, compassion, and shame, dete∣sting his fortune, that made him vnfortunate in victory.

Therefore, putting off his headpeece and gauntlet; kneeling downe vnto her, and with teares testifying his sorow, he offred his (by himselfe accursed) handes to helpe her: protesting his life and power to be readie to doo her honour. But Parthe∣nia [ 15] (who had inward messingers of the desired deathes approch) looking vpon him and streight turning away her feeble sight, as from a delightlesse obiect, drawing out her words, which her breath (loath to departe from so sweet a bodie) did faintly deliuer, Sir (said she) I pray you (if prayers haue place in enemies) to let my maides take my body vntouched by you: the onely honour I now desire by your meanes, [ 20] is, that I haue no honour of you. Argalus made no such bargaine with you, that the handes which killed him, shoulde helpe me. I haue of them (and I doo not onely pardon you, but thanke you for it) the seruice which I desired. There rests nothing now, but that I go liue with him, since whose death I haue done nothing but die. Then pawsing, and a little fainting, and againe comming to herselfe, O sweete life, [ 25] wel come (saide she) nowe feele I the bandes vntied of the cruell death, which so long hath helde me. And O life, O death, aunswere for mee, that my thoughts haue not so much as in a dreame tasted any comfort; since they were depriued of Argalus. I come, my Argalus, I come: And, O God hide my faultes in thy mer∣cies, and graunt (as I feele thou doost graunt) that in thy eternall loue, we may loue [ 30] eche other eternally. And this O Lorde: But there Atropos cut off her sentence: for with that, casting vp both eyes and hands to the skies, the noble soule departed (one might well assure himselfe) to heauen, which left the bodie in so heauenly a demea∣nure.

But Amphialus (with a hart oppressed with griefe, because of her request) with∣drewe [ 35] himselfe, but the Iudges, as full of pitie, had bene al this while disarming her, and her gentelwomen with lamentable cries, laboring to stanch the remediles wounds: and a while she was dead before they perceiued it; death being able to di∣uide the soule, but not the beauty from that body. But when the infallible tokens of death assured them of their losse, one of the women would haue killed her selfe, but [ 40] that the squire of Amphialus perceauing it, by force held her. Others that had as strong passion, though weaker resolution, fell to cast dust vppon their heads, to teare their garments: al falling vpon the earth & crying vpon their sweet mistres; as if their cries could perswade the soule to leaue the celestiall happines, to come againe into the e∣lements of sorrow: one time calling to remembrance her vertue, chastnes, sweetnes, [ 45] goodnes to them: another time accursing themselues, that they had obeyed her,

they hauing bene deceaued by her words, who as••ured thē, that it was reuealed vn∣to her, that she should haue her harts desire in the battaile against Amphialus, which they wrongly vnderstood. Then kissing her cold hands and feete, wearie of the world, since she was gone, who was their world. The very heauens seemed, with [ 5] a cloudie countenance, to loure at the losse, and Fame it selfe (though by nature glad to tell such rare accidents, yet) could not choose but deliuer it in lamentable accents, and in such sort went it quickly all ouer the Campe: and, as if the aire had bene infected with sorow, no hart was so hard, but was subiect to that contagion; the rarenes of the accidēt, matching together (the rarely matched together) pittie [ 10] with admiration, Basilius himselfe came foorth, and brought the faire Gynecia with him, who was come into the campe vnder colour of visiting her husband, and hea∣ring of her daughters: but indeed Zelmane was the Sainct, to which her pilgrimage was entended: cursing, enuying, blessing, and in her hart kissing the walles which imprisoned her. But both they with Philanax, and the rest of the principall Nobi∣litie, [ 15] went out, to make Honour triumph ouer Death, conueying that excellent body (whereto Basilius himselfe would needes lende his shoulder) to a Church a mile from the Campe, where the valiant Argalus lay intombed; recommending to that sepulchre, the blessed reliques of faithfull and vertuous Loue: giuing or∣der for the making of marble images, to represent them, and each way enriching [ 20] the tombe. Vpon which, Basilius himselfe caused this Epitaph to be written.

The Epitaph.

[ 25] HIs being was in her alone: And he not being, she was none.

They ioi'd one ioy, one griefe they grieu'd, [ 30] One loue they lou'd, one life they liu'd. The hand was one, one was the sword That did his death, hir death afford.

As all the rest, so now the stone That tombes the two, is iustly one. [ 35]

ARGALVS & PARTHENIA.

[ 40]

Then with eyes full of teares, and mouthes full of her prayses, returned they to the campe, with more and more hate against Amphialus: who (poore Gentleman) had therefore greater portion of woe, then any of them. For that courteous hearte, which would haue grieued but to haue heard the like aduenture, was rent with re∣membring [ 45] himselfe to be the author: so that his wisdome could not so far temper his passion, but that he tooke his sword, counted the best in the world (which with much bloud he had once conquered of a mighty Giant) and brake it into many

peeces (which afterwards he had good cause to repent) saying, that neither it was worthy to serue the noble exercise of chiualrie, nor any other worthy to feele that sword, which had stroken so excellēt a Lady: and withall, banishing all cheerfulnes of his countenance, he returned home. Where he gate him to his bed, not so much to rest his restles mind, as to auoid all company, the sight wherof was tedious vnto [ 5] him. And then melancholie (only rich in vnfortunate remembrances) brought before him all the mishaps, with which his life had wrestled: taking this, not only as a confirming of the former, but a presage of following miserie; and to his harte (alredy ouercome by sorrowfulnes) euen trifling misfortunes came, to fill vp the rolle of a grieued memorie, labouring only his wits to pearce farther & ••arther into [ 10] his owne wretchednes. So as all that night (in despite of darknes) he held his eyes open; and the morning when the light began to restore to each body his colour, then with curtaines bard he himselfe frō the enioying of it: neither willing to feele the comfort of the day, nor the ease of the night: vntil his mother (who neuer knew what loue meant, but only to himward) came to his bed side, and beginning with [ 15] louing earnestnes to lay a kind chiding vpō him, because he would suffer the weak∣nes of sorow, to conquere the strength of his vertues; he did with a broken peece∣meale speach (as if the tēpest of passion vnorderly blewe out his words) remember the mishaps of his youth, the euils he had ben cause of, his rebelling with Shame, & that shame increased with shamefull accidents, the deaths of Philoxenus & Parthenia, [ 20] wherein he found himselfe hated of the euer-ruling powers, but especially (and so especially, as the rest seemed nothing when he came to that) his fatall loue to Philo∣clea: to whom he had so gouerned himselfe, as one that could neither conquer, nor yeeld; being of the one side a slaue, & of the other a iaylor: and with all, almost vp∣brayding vnto his mother the little successe of her large hoping promises, he in ef∣fect [ 25] finding Philoclea nothing mollified, and now himselfe so cast downe, as hee thought him vnworthy of better. But his mother (as she had plentifull cause) ma∣king him see, that of his other griefes there was little or no fault in himself, and ther∣fore there ought to be little or no griefe in him; when she came to the head of the sore, indeed seeing that she could no lōger patch vp her former promises (he taking [ 30] a desperat deafnes to all delaying hopes) she confest plainly, that she could preuaile nothing: but the fault was his owne, who had marred the yong Girle by seeking to haue that by praier, which he should haue taken by authoritie. That as it were an absurd cunning to make hie ladders to go in a plaine way; so was it an vntimely and foolish flattery, there to beseech, where one might commaund, puffing them vp by [ 35] being besought, with such a selfe-pride of superioritie, that it was not (forsooth) to be held out, but by a denial. O God (said Amphialus) how wel I thought my fortune would bring forth this end of your labors? assure yourself, mother, I wil sooner pull out these eies, then they shall looke vpō the heauenly Philoclea, but as vpō a heauen, whence they haue their light, & to which they are subiect, if they wil power downe [ 40] any influēces of comfort, O happy I: but if by the sacrifice of a faithful hart, they wil not be called vnto me, let me languish, & wither with languishing, and grieue with withering, but neuer so much as repine with neuer so much grieuing. Mother, ô Mother, lust may wel be a tyrant, but true loue where it is indeed, it is a seruant. Ac∣cursed more then I am, may I be, if euer I did approch her, but that I friezed asmuch [ 45] in a fearefull reuerēce, as I burned in a vehemēt desire. Did euer mās eye looke tho∣rough loue vpō the maiesty of vertue, shining through beauty, but that he becam (as it wel becam him) a captiue, & is it the stile of a captiue to write, Our will and pleasure?

Tush, tush sonne (said Cecropia) if you say you loue, but withall you feare; you feare lest you should offend; offend? and how know you, that you should offend? because she doth denie: denie? Now by my truth, if your sadnes would let me laugh, I could laugh hartily, to see that yet you are ignorant, that No, is no negatiue [ 5] in a womans mouth. My sonne, beleeue me, a woman, speaking of women: a louers" modesty among vs is much more praised, then liked: or if we like it, so well we like it, that for marring of his modestie, he shall neuer proceed further. Each vertue hath his time: if you command your souldier to march formost, and he for curtesie put others before him, would you praise his modesty? loue is your Generall: he bids [ 10] you dare: and will Amphialus be a dastard? Let examples serue: doo you thinke Theseus should euer haue gotten Antiope with sighing, and crossing his armes? he rauished her, and rauished her that was an Amazon, and therfore had gotten a habite of stoutnes aboue the nature of a woman; but hauing rauished her, he got a child of her. And I say no more, but that (they say) is not gotten without consent of both [ 15] sides. Iole had her owne father killed by Hercules, and her selfe rauished, by force ra∣uished, and yet ere long this rauished, and vnfathered Lady could sportfully put on the Lions skin vpon her owne faire shoulders, and play with the clubbe with her owne delicate hands: so easily had she pardoned the rauisher, that she could not but delight in those weapons of rauishing. But aboue all, marke Helen daughter [ 20] to Iupiter, who could neuer brooke her manerly-wooing Menclaus, but disdained his humblenes, and lothed his softnes. But so well she could like the force of en∣forcing Paris, that for him she could abide what might be abidden. But what? Menelaus takes hart, he recouers her by force, by force carries her home, by force inioies her; and she, who could neuer like him for seruiceablenesse, euer aft••r loued [ 25] him for violence. For what can be more agreable, then vpon force to lay the fault of desire, and in one instant to ioyne a deare delight with a iust excuse? or rather the true cause is (pardon me ô woman-kinde for reuealing to mine owne sonne the truth of this mystery) we thinke there wants fire, where we finde no sparkles at lest of furie. Truly I haue knowen a great Lady, long sought by most great, most [ 30] wise, most beautifull, most valiant persons; neuer wonne, because they did ouer-superstitiously sollicite her: the same Ladie brought vnder by an other, inferiour to all them in all those qualities, onely because he could vse that imperious maister∣fulnesse, which nature giues to men aboue women. For indeede (sonne, I con∣fesse vnto you) in our very creation we are seruants: and who prayseth his ser∣uaunts [ 35] shall neuer be well obeyed: but as a ready horse streight yeeldes, when he findes one that will haue him yeelde, the same fals to boundes when he feeles a fearefull horseman. Awake thy spirits (good Amphialus) and assure thy selfe, that though she refuseth, she refuseth but to endeere the obtaining. If she weepe, and chide, and protest, before it be gotten, she can but weepe, and chide, and protest, [ 40] when it is gotten. Thinke, she would not striue, but that she meanes to trie thy force: and my Amphialus, knowe thy selfe a man, and shew thy selfe a man: and (beleeue me vpon my word) a woman is a woman.

Amphialus was about to answere her, when a Gentleman of his made him vnderstand, that there was a messenger come, who had brought a letter vnto him [ 45] from out of the campe: whom he presently calling for, tooke, opened, and read the letter, importing this.

TO thee Amphialus of Arcadia, the forsaken Knight wisheth health, and courage, that by my hand thou maiest receyue punishment for thy treason, according to thine owne of∣fer, which wickedly occasioned, thou hast proudly begun, and accursedly mainteyned. I will pre∣sently (if thy minde faint thee not for his owne guiltinesse) meete thee in thy Iland, in such or∣der, as hath by the former beene vsed: or if thou likest not the time, place, or weapon, I am [ 5] ready to take thine owne reasonable choise in any of them; so as thou doo perfourme the sub∣staunce. Make me such answere as may shewe that thou hast some taste of honour: and so I leaue thee, to liue till I meete thee.

Amphialus read it, and with a deepe sigh (according to the humour of inward [ 10] affliction) seemed euen to condemne him selfe, as though indeed his reproches were true. But howsoeuer the dulnes of Melancholy would haue languishingly yeelded thereunto, his Courage (vnused to such iniuries) desired helpe of Anger to make him this answere.

[ 15]

FOrsaken Knight, though your namelesse challenge might carry in it selfe excuse for a man of my birth and estate, yet herein set your harte at rest, you shall not be forsaken. I will without stay answere you in the woonted manner, and come both armed in your foolish threat∣nings, and yet the more fearelesse, expecting weake blowes, where I finde so s••rong words. You shall not therefore long attende me in the Iland, before proofe teach you, that of my life you haue [ 20] made your selfe too large a promise. In the meane time, Farewell.

This being written, and deliuered, the messenger tolde him, that his Lord would (if he liked the same) bring two Knights with him to be his Patrons. Which Amphialus accepted, and withall shaking off (with resolution) his mothers impor∣tunate [ 25] disswasions, he furnished him selfe for the fight: but not in his wonted fur∣niture. For now (as if he would turne his inside outward) he would needes ap∣peare all in blacke; his decking both for him selfe, and horse, being cut out into the fashion of very ragges: yet all so daintely ioyned together with pretious stones, as it was a braue raggednesse, and a riche pouertie: and so cunningly had a worke∣man [ 30] followed his humour in his armour, that he had giuen it a rustie shewe, and yet so, as any man might perceiue was by arte, and not negligence; carying at one instant a disgraced handsomnesse, and a new oldnes. In his shield he bare for his deuise, a Night, by an excellent painter excellently painted, with a Sunne with a shadow, and vpon the shadow with a speech signifying, that it onely was barrd from [ 35] inioying that, whereof it had his life: or, From whose I am, bannished. In his creste he cari∣ed Philocleas kniues, the onely token of her forced fauour.

So past he ouer into the Iland, taking with him the two brothers of Anaxius; where he founde the forsaken Knight, attired in his owne liuerie, as blacke, as sor∣rowe it selfe could see it selfe in the blackest glasse: his ornaments of the same hew, [ 40] but formed into the figure of Rauens, which seemed to gape for carrion: onely his raynes were snakes, which finely wrapping themselues one within the other, their heads came together to the cheekes and bosses of the bit, where they might seeme to bite at the horse, and the horse (as he champte the bit) to bite at them; and that the white foame was ingendred by the poysonous furie of the com∣batt. [ 45] His Impresa was a Catoblepta which so long lies dead, as the Moone (where∣to it hath so naturall a sympathie) wants her light. The worde signified that

The Moone wanted not the light, but the poore beast wanted the Moones light. He had in his headpiece, a whippe, to witnesse a selfe-punishing repentaunce. Their very horses were cole-blacke too, not hauing so much as one starre to giue light to their night of blackenesse: so as one would haue thought they had bene the two sonnes [ 5] of Sorrow, and were come thether to fight for their birth-right in that sorie in∣heritance.

Which aliance of passions so moued Amphialus (alredy tender-minded by the afflictions of Loue) that without staffe or sword drawne, he trotted fairely to the forsaken Knight, willing to haue put off this combat, to which his melancholy hart [ 10] did (more then euer in like occasion) misgiue him: and therefore saluting him, Good Knight (said he) because we are men, and should know reason why we doo things; tell me the cause, that makes you thus eager to fight with me. Because I affirme (answered the forsaken Knight) that thou dost most rebellious iniurie to those Ladies, to whome all men owe seruice. You shall not fight with me (saide [ 15] Amphialus) vpon that quarrell: for I confesse the same too: but it proceeds from their owne beauty, to inforce Loue to offer this force. I maintaine then (said the forsaken Knight) that thou art not worthy so to loue. And that confesse I too (said Amphialus) since the world is not so richly blessed, as to bring forth any thing wor∣thie thereof. But no more vnworthy then any other, since in none can be a more [ 20] worthy loue. Yes, more vnworthy then my selfe (said the forsaken Knight) for though I deserue contempt, thou deseruest both contempt, and hatred.

But Amphialus by that thinking (though wrongly, each indeede mistaking other) that he was his riuall, forgat all minde of reconciliation, and hauing all his thoughts bound vp in choler, neuer staying either iudge, trumpet, or his owne launce, drew [ 25] out his sword, and saying, Thou lyest false villaine, vnto him; his words & blowes came so quick together, as the one seemed a lightning of the others thunder. But he found no barren ground of such seede: for it yeelded him his owne with such encrease, that though Reason and Amazement go rarely togither, yet the most rea∣sonable eies that saw it, found reason to be amazed at the fury of their combat. Ne∣uer [ 30] game of death better plaid; neuer fury set it selfe forth in greater brauerie. The curteous Vulcan, when he wrought at his more curteous wiues request, AEnaeas an armour, made not his hammer beget a greater sounde, then the swords of those noble Knights did, they needed no fire to their forge, for they made the fire to shine at the meeting of their swords, & armours, ech side fetching still new spirit from the [ 35] castle window, and carefull of keeping their sight that way as a matter of greater consideration in their combat, then either the aduantage of Sun or winde: which Sunne & wind (if the astonished eies of the beholders were not by the astonishmēt deceiued) did both stand still to be beholders of this rare match. For neither could their amazed eies discerne motion in the Sunne, and no breath of winde stirred, as [ 40] if either for feare it would not come among such blows, or with delight had his eies so busie, as it had forgot to open his mouth. This fight being the more cruell, since both Loue and Hatred conspired to sharpen their humours, that hard it was to say, whether Loue with one trumpet, or Hatred with another, gaue the lowder ala••um to their courages. Spite, rage, disdaine, shame, reuenge, came waighting vpon [ 45] Hatred: of the other side came with loue-longing Desire, both inuincible Hope, and fearelesse Despaire, with riuallike Iealousie, which (although brought vp within doores in the schoole of Cupid) woulde shewe them-selues no lesse

forward, then the other dustie band of Mars, to make themselues notable in the notablenes of this combat. Of eyther side Confidence, vnacquainted with Losse, but assured trust to ouercome, and good experience how to ouercome: now seconding their terrible blowes with cunning labouring the horses, to winne ground of the enimie; now vnlooked-for parting one from the other, to win ad∣uantage [ 5] by an aduantageous retourne. But force against force, skill against skill, so enterchangeably encountred, that it was not easie to determine, whether enter∣prising, or preuenting came former: both, sometimes at one instant, doing and suffring wrong, and choller no lesse rising of the doing, then of the suffring. But as the fire, the more fuell is put to it, the more hungrie still it is to deuoure more: so [ 10] the more they strake, the more vnsatisfied they were with striking. Their verie ar∣mour by piecemeale fell away from them: and yet their flesh abode the wounds constantly, as though it were lesse sensible of smart, then the senselesse armour: their blood in most places stayning their blacke couler, as if it would giue a more liuely coulour of mourning, then blacke can doo. And so a long space they fought, [ 15] while neither vertue, nor fortune seemed partiall of either side: which so tormen∣ted the vnquiet hart of Amphialus, that he resolued to see a quicke ende: and there∣fore with the violence of courage, adding strength to his blow, he strake in such wise vpon the side of the others head, that his remembrance left that battered lod∣ging: so as he was quite ••rom himselfe, casting his armes abroade, and redie to fall [ 20] downe; his sword likewise went out of his hand; but that being fast by a chaine to his arme, he could not loose. And Amphialus vsed the fauour of occasion, re∣doubling his blowes: but the horse (weary to be beaten, as well as the master) car∣ried his master away, til he came vnto himself: But then who could haue seene him, might well haue discerned shame in his cheekes, and reuenge in his eyes: so as set∣ting [ 25] his teeth togither with rage, he came running vpon Amphialus, reaching out his arme, which had gathered vp the sword, meaning with that blow to haue clea∣ued Amphialus in two. But Amphialus seeing the blow comming, shunned it with nimble turning his horse aside; wherwith the forsaken Knight ouer-strake himselfe so, as almost he came downe with his owne strength. But the more hungrie [ 30] of his purpose, the more he was bard the food of it: disdaining the resistance, both of force, and fortune, he returned vpon the spurre againe, and ranne with such vio∣lence vpon Amphialus, that his horse with the force of the shocke rose vp before, al∣most ouerturned: which Amphialus perceauing, with rayne and spurre put forth his horse; and withall gaue a mightie blow in the descent of his horse, vpon the shoul∣der [ 35] of the forsaken Knight; from whence sliding, it fell vpon the necke of his horse, so as horse and man fell to the ground: but he was scarce downe before he was vp on his feete againe, with braue gesture shewing rising of corage, in the falling of fortune. But the curteous Amphialus excused himselfe, for hauing (against his will) kild his horse. Excuse thy selfe for viler faults (answered the forsaken Knight) and [ 40] vse this poore aduantage the best thou canst; for thou shalt quickly finde thou hast neede of more. Thy folly (said Amphialus) shall not make me forget my selfe: and therewith (trotting a little aside) alighted from his horse, because he would not haue fortune come to claime any part of the victory. Which curteous act would haue mollified the noble harte of the forsaken Knight, if any other had done it, [ 45] besides the Iaylor of his mistres: but that was a sufficient defeazaunce for the firmest bond of good nature; and therefore he was no sooner alighted, but that he

ranne vnto him, re-entring into as cruell a fight, as eye did euer see, or thought could reasonably imagine; farre beyond the reach of weak words to bee able to ex∣presse it. For what they had done on horsebacke, was but as a morsell to keep their stomakes in appetite, in comparison of that, which now (being themselues) they [ 5] did. Nor euer glutton by the change of daintie diet could be brought to fresh fee∣ding (when he might haue bene satisfied before) with more earnestnes, then those (by the change of their maner of fight) fell cleane to a new fight, though any else would haue thought they had had their fil alredy. Amphialus being the taller mā, for the most part stood with his right legge before; his shield at the vtterm ost length of [ 10] his arme; his sworde hie, but with the point toward his enemy. But when he strake, which came so thick, as if euery blow would striue to be foremost, his arme seemed still a postillion of death. The forsaken Knight shewed with like skill, vnlike gesture, keeping himselfe in continuall motion, proportioning the distance betweene them to any thing that Amphialus attempted: his eye guided his foote, and his foote con∣ueighed [ 15] his hand; and since nature had made him something the lower of the two, he made art follow, and not striue with nature: shunning rather then warding his blowes; like a cūning mastiffe, who knowes the sharpnes of the horne & strength of the Bull; fights low to get his proper aduantage; answering mightines with nim∣blenes, and yet at times imploying his wonderfull force, wherein he was second to [ 20] none. In summe, the blowes were stronge, the thrusts thicke, and the auoydinges cunning. But the forsaken Knight (that thought it a degree of being conquered to belong in conquering) strake him so mightie a blowe, that he made Amphialus put knee to the grounde, without any humblenes. But when hee felt himselfe striken downe, and saw himselfe striken downe by his riuall, then shame seemed one arme, [ 25] and disdaine another; fury in his eyes, and reuenge in his harte; skill and force gaue place, and they tooke the place of skill and force: with so vnweariable a manner, that the forsaken Knight also was driuen to leaue the sterne of cunning, & giue himselfe wholly to be guided by the storme of fury: there being in both (because hate would not suffer admiration) extreame disdaine to finde themselues so matched.

[ 30] What (said Amphialus to himselfe) am I Amphialus, before whom so many mon∣sters and Gyantes haue falne dead, when I onely sought causelesse aduentures? and can one Knight now withstand me in the presence of Philoclea, and fighting for Phi∣loclea? or since I lost my liberty, haue I lost my courag? haue I gottē the hart of a slaue, as wel as the fortūe? If an armie were against me in the sight of Philoclea, could it resist [ 35] me? O beast, on man resists thee: thy riual resists thee or am I indeed Amphialus? haue not passions kild him, and wretched I (I know not how) succeeded into his place? Of the other side the forsaken Knight with no lesse spite, fell out with himselfe; Hast thou broken (saide hee to himselfe) the commandement of thy onely Princesse to come now into her presence, and in her presence to proue thy selfe a coward? Doth [ 40] Asia and AEgypt set vp Trophes vnto thee, to be matched here by a traytor? O noble Barsanes, how shamed will thy soule be, that he that slew thee, should be resisted by this one man? O incomparable Pyrocles, more grieued wilt thou be with thy friends shame, then with thine own imprisonment, when thou shalt know how little I haue bene able to doo for the deliuerie of thee, and those heauenly Princesses. Am I wor∣thie [ 45] to be friend to the most valourous Prince that euer was entituled valorous, and shew my selfe so weake a wretch? No, shamed Musidorus, worthie for nothing, but to keepe sheepe, get thee a sheephooke againe, since thou canst vse a sworde no better.

So was the forsaken Knight (layed vpon clokes) carried home to the campe. But his two friends knowing his earnest desire not to be knowen, couering him from a∣ny bodies eyes, conueyed him to their owne tente: Basilius himselfe conquering his earnest desire to see him, with feare to displease him, who had fought so notably in his quarrell. But Fame set the honour vpon his backe, which he would not suffer to [ 5] shine in his face: no mans mouth being barrein of prayses to the noble Knight, that had bettered the most esteemed Knight in the worlde: euery bodie praying for his life, and thinking that therein they prayed for themselues. But hee himselfe, when by the diligent care of friends, and well applied cunning of surgeons, he came to re∣newe againe the league betweene his minde and body; then fell he to a freshe warre [ 10] with his owne thoughts, wrongfully condemning his manhood, laying cowardise to himselfe, whome the impudentest backbiter would not so haue wronged. For his courage (vsed to vse victory as an inheritaunce) coulde brooke no resistance at any time: but now that hee had promised him selfe not onely the conquest of him, but the scaling of the walles, and deliuery of Pamela, though he had done beyond all o∣thers [ 15] expectation, yet so short was he of his owne; that hee hated to looke vpon the Sunne, that had seene him doo so weakely: and so much abhorred all visitation or honour, whereof he thought him selfe vnworthy, that hee besought his two noble friends to carrie him away to a castle not far of, where he might cure his woundes, and neuer bee knowne till he made successe excuse this (as he thought) want in him. [ 20] They louingly obeyed him, leauing Basilius and all the campe very sorrie for the par∣ting of these three vnknowne Knights, in whose prowesse they had reposed greatest trust of victory.

But they being gone, Basilius and Philanax gaue good order to the strengthning of the siege, fortifying themselues, so as they feared no more any such suddaine on∣set, [ 25] as that of Anaxius. And they within (by reason of Anaxius hurt, but especi∣ally of Amphialus-is) gaue thēselues only to diligent watch & ward, making no sallies out, but committing the principall trust to Zoilus and Lycurgus. For Anaxius was yet forced to keepe his chamber. And as for Amphialus, his body had such wounds, and he gaue such wounds to his minde; as easily it coulde not bee determined, whether [ 30] death or he made the greater haste one to the other: for when the diligent care of cū∣ning surgeons had brought life to the possession of his owne right, Sorrowe and Shame (like two corrupted seruaunts) came waiting of it, perswading nothing but the giuing ouer of itselfe to destruction. They laide before his eyes his present case, painting euery piece of it in moste ougly colours: they shewed him his loue wrap∣ped [ 35] in dispaire, his fame blotted by ouerthrow; so that if before he languished, be∣cause he could not obtaine his desiring, hee now lamented because he durst not de∣sire the obtaining. Recreant Amphialus, (would hee say to him selfe) how darest thou intitle thy selfe the louer of Philoclea, that hast neither shewed thy selfe a faith∣full coward, nor a valiant rebell, but both rebellious and cowardly, which no lawe [ 40] can quite, nor grace haue pittie of? Alas life, what little pleasure thou doost me, to giue me nothing but sense of reproach, and exercise of ruine? I would sweete Phi∣loclea, I had died, before thy eyes had seene my weakenes: & then perchaunce with some sigh thou wouldest haue confessed, thou hadst lost a worthy seruant. But nowe, caitife that I am, what euer I haue donne, serues but to builde vp [ 45] my riuals glory. To these speeches he would couple such gestures of vexation, and

would fortifie the gestures with such effects of furie, as sometimes offring to teare vp his wounds, sometimes to refuse the sustenance of meat, and counsell of phisiti∣ons, that his perplexed mother was driuen to make him by force to be tended, with extreame corsey to her selfe, and annoiance to him: till in the ende he was conten∣ted [ 5] to promise her, he would attempt no violence vpon himselfe, vpon condition he might be troubled by no body, but onely his Phisitions: his melancholy de∣testing all company, so as not the very surgeons nor seruants durst speake vnto him in doing him seruice: only he had praied his mother, as she tendered his life, she would procure him grace; and that without that, she would neuer come at [ 10] him more.

His mother, who had confined all her loue only vnto him, set only such about him, as were absolutely at her commandement, whome she forbad to let him knowe any thing that passed in the castle, till his woundes were cured, but as she from time to time should instruct them: she (for her selfe) being resolued, nowe [ 15] she had the gouernment of all things in her owne handes, to satisfie her sonnes loue, by their yeelding, or satisfie her owne reuenge in their punishment. Yet first, because she would be the freer from outward force, she sent a messenger to the campe, to denounce vnto Basilius, that if he did not presently raise his siege, she would cause the heads of the three Ladies, prisoners, to be cut off before his [ 20] eyes. And to make him the more feare a present performance, she caused his two daughters and Zelmane to be led vnto the walls, where she had made a scaffold, easie to be seene by Basilius: and there caused them to be kept, as ready for the slaughter, till answere came from Basilius. A sight full of pittie it was, to see those three (all excelling in all those excellencies, wherewith Nature can beau∣tifie [ 25] any body: Pamela giuing sweetnes to maiesty, Philoclea enriching noble∣nes with humblenes, Zelmane setting in womanly beautie manlike valour) to be thus subiected to the basest iniury of vniust Fortune. One might see in Pamela a willingnesse to dye, rather then to haue life at others discretion, though some∣times a princely disdaine would sparkle out of her Princely eyes, that it should [ 30] be in others power to force her to dye. In Philoclea a pretie feare came vp, to endamaske her rosie cheekes: but it was such a feare, as rather seemed a kindly childe to her innate humblenes, then any other dismayednes: or if she were dismayed, it was more for Zelmane, then for her selfe; or if more for her selfe, it was because Zelmane should loose her. As for Zelmane, as she went with her hands [ 35] bound (for they durst not aduenture on her well knowne valour, especially a∣mong a people which perchance might be moued by such a spectacle to some re∣uolte) she was the true image of ouermaistred courage, and of spite, that sees no remedie. For her breast swelled withall, the bloud burst out at her nose, and she looked paler then accustomed, with her eies cast on the ground, with such a grace, [ 40] as if she were fallen out with the heauens, for suffering such an iniury. The lookers on were so moued withall, as they misliked what themselues did, and yet still did what themselues misliked. For some, glad to rid themselues of the dangerous an∣noyance of this siege, some willing to shorten the way to Amphialus-his succession (whereon they were dependents) some, and the greatest some, doing because o∣thers [ 45] did, and suffring because none durst begin to hinder, did in this sort set their hands to this (in their owne conscience) wicked enterprise.

But when this message was brought to Basilius, and that this pittifull preparation

was a sufficient letter of credit for him to beleeue it, hee called vnto him his chiefe councelors: among which, those he chiefly trusted were Philanax & Kalander (late∣ly come to the campe at Basilius cōmandement, and in him selfe wery of his solitary life, wanting his sons presence, & neuer hauing heard from his beloued guestes since they parted from him). Now in this doubt what he should do, he willed Kalander to [ 5] giue him his aduise: who spake much to this purpose. You commaund me Sir (said he) to speake, rather because you will keepe your wonted graue, and noble manner, to do nothing of importance without coūcell, then that in this cause (which indeed hath but one way) your mind needs to haue any councell: so as my speech shall ra∣ther be to confirme what you haue alredy determined then to argue against any pos∣sibillitie [ 10] of other determination. For what sophistical scholler can find any question in this, whether you will haue your incomparable daughters liue, or dye? whether since you be here to cause their deliuerance, you wil make your being here the cause of their destruction? for nothing can bee more vnsensible, then to thinke what one doth, and to forget the end why it is done. Do therfore as I am sure you meane to do, [ 15] remoue the siege, and after seeke by practise, or other gentle meanes, to recouer that which by force you cannot: and therof is indeed (when it please you) more counsel to be taken. Once, in extremities the winning of time is the purchase of life, & worse by no meanes then their deaths can befal vnto you. A man might vse more words, if it were to any purpose to guild gold, or that I had any cause to doubt of your mind: [ 20] But you are wise, and are a father. He said no more, for he durst not attempt to per∣swade the marrying of his daughter to Amphialus, but left that to bring in at another consultation. But Basilius made signe to Philanax, who standing a while in a maze as inwardly perplexed, at last thus deliuered his opinion.

If euer I could wish my faith vntried, & my counsell vntrusted, it should be at this [ 25] time, whē in truth I must confesse I would be cōtent to purchase silence with discre∣dit. But since you command, I obey: onely let me say thus much, that I obey not to these excellent Ladies father, but to my Prince: & a Prince it is to whō I giue coūsel. Therefore as to a Prince I say, that the graue & (I well know) true-minded counsell of my Lord Kalander had come in good time when you first tooke armes, before all [ 30] your subiects gate notice of your intention, before so much blood was spent, and be∣fore they were driuen to seeke this shift for their last remedy. But if nowe, this force you away, why did you take armes? since you might be sure when euer they were in extremitie they would haue recourse to this threatning? and for a wise man to take in hand that which his enimy may with a word ouerthrow, hath in my conceit great [ 35] incongruity, and as great not to forethinke what his enemy in reason will doo. But they threaten they wil kil your daughters. What if they promised you if you remo∣ued your siege, they would honorably send home your daughters? would you bee angled by their promises? truly no more ought you be terrified by their threatnings. For yet of the two, promise binds faith more thē threatning. But indeed a Prince of [ 40] iudgement ought not to consider what his enimies promise, or threaten, but what the promisers and threatners in reason wil do: and the neerest coniecture thereunto, is what is best for their owne behoofe to do. They threaten if you remoue not, they wil kil your daughters, and if you doo remoue, what surety haue you, but that they will kil them, since if the purpose be to cut off all impediments of Amphialus-his am∣bition, [ 45] the same cause will continue when you are away; and so much the more en∣coraged, as the reuenging power is absent, and they haue the more oportunitie to

draw their factious friends about them: but if it be for their security onely, the same cause will bring forth the same effect: and for their security they will preserue them. But it may be said, no man knows what desperate folks wil do: it is true, and as true that no reason nor policie can preuent what desperate folks wil do: & therfore they [ 5] are among those dangers, which wisdome is not to recken.

Only let it suffice to take away their despaire, which may be by granting pardon for what is past; so as the Ladies may be freely deliuered. And let them that are your subiects, trust you that are their Prince: doo not you subiect your selfe to trust them, who are so vntrusty as to be manifest traitors.

For if they finde you so base-minded, as by their threat∣ning [ 10] to remoue your force, what indignitie is it, that they would not bring you vnto, still by the same threatning? since then if Loue stir them, loue will keep them from murthering what they loue; and if Ambition prouoke them, ambitious they will be, when you are away, as well as while you are here: take not away your force, which bars not the one, and bridels the other. For as for their shewes and words [ 15] they are but feare-babes, not worthy once to moue a worthy mans conceit; which must still consider what in reason they are like to do. Their despaire I grant you shall do well to preuent, which as it is the last of all resolutions, so no man fals" into it, while so good a way as you may offer, is open vnto them.

In sum, you are a Prince, and a father of a people, who ought with the eye of wisdome, the hand of [ 20] fortitude, and the hart of iustice to set downe all priuate conceits, in comparison of what for the publike is profitable.

He would haue proceeded on, when Gynecia came running in amazed for her daughter Pamela, but mad for Zelmane: and falling at Basilius feet, besought him to make no delay: vsing such gestures of compassion in steed of stopped words, that [ 25] Basilius, otherwise enough tender minded, easily granted to raise the siege, which he saw dangerous to his daughters: but indeed more carefull for Zelmane, by whose besieged person, the poore old man was streightly besieged: so as to rid him of the famine of his mind, he went in speed away, discharging his souldiors: only leauing the authority, as before, in Philanaxis hands, he himselfe went with Gynecia to a [ 30] strong Castle of his, where he tooke counsell how first to deliuer Zelmane, whom he called the poore stranger, as though onely Law of hospitalitie moued him, and for that purpose sent diuers messengers to trafficke with Cecropia.

But she by this meanes rid of the present daunger of the siege (desiring Zoilus and Lycurgus to take the care, till their brother recouered, of reuictualling, and fur∣nishing [ 35] the Citie, both with men and what els wanted, against any new occasion should vrge them, she her selfe disdaining to harken to Basilius, without he would grant his daughter in mariage to her son, which by no means he would be brought vnto) bent all the sharpenesse of her malicious wit, how to bring a comfortable graunt to her sonne, whereupon she well found no lesse then his life depended. [ 40] Therfore for a while she attēpted all meanes of eloquent praying, & flattering per∣swasion, mingling sometimes gifts, somtimes threatnings, as she had cause to hope, that either open force, or vndermining, would best win the castle of their Resolu∣tion. And euer as much as she did to Philoclea, so much did she to Pamela, though in manner sometimes differing, as she found fit to leuell at the ones noble height, [ 45] and the others sweet lowlinesse. For though she knew her sonnes harte had wholly giuen it selfe to Philoclea, yet seeing the equall gifts in Pamela, she hoped, a faire grant would recouer the sorrow of a faire refusall: cruelly entending the present

impoysoning the one, as soone as the others affection were purchased.

But in vaine was all her vaine oratory employed. Pamelaes determination was built vpon so braue a Rock, that no shot of hers could reach vnto it: and Philoclea (though humbly seated) was so inuironed with sweete riuers of cleere vertue, as could neither be battred, nor vndermined: her witty perswasiōs had wise answers; [ 5] her eloquence recompenced with sweetnes; her threatnings repelled with disdaine in the one, and patience in the other; her gifts either not accepted, or accepted to obey, but not to binde. So as Cecropia in nature violent; cruell, because ambitious; hatefull, for old rooted grudge to their mother, and now spitefull because she could not preuaile with girles, as she counted them; lastly, drawne on by her loue to her [ 10] son, and held vp by a tyrannicall authoritie, forthwith followed the byas of her own crooked disposition, and doubling and redoubling her threatnings, fell to confirme some of her threatned effects: first withdrawing all comfort, both of seruants, & ser∣uice from them. But that those excellent Ladies had bene vsed vnto, euen at home, and then found in themselues how much good the hardnes of education doth to [ 15] the resistance of misery. Then dishonorably vsing them both in dyet, and lodging, by a contempt to pull downe their thoughts to yeelding. But as before, the consi∣deration of a prison had disgraced all ornaments, so now the same consideration made them attend al diseasefulnes. Then stil, as she found those not preuaile, would she go forward with giuing them terrors, sometimes with noices of horror, some∣times [ 20] with suddaine frightings in the night, when the solitary darkenesse thereof might easier astonish the disarmed senses. But to all Vertue, and Loue resisted, strengthned one by the other, when each found itselfe ouer-vehemently assaulted. Cecropia still sweetning her fiercenesses with faire promises, if they would promise faire; that feeling euill, and seeing a way far better, their mindes might the sooner [ 25] be mollified. But they that could not taste her behauiour, when it was pleasing in∣deed, could worse now, when they had lost all taste by her iniuries.

She resoluing all extremities, rather then faile of conquest, pursued on her rug∣ged way: letting no day passe, without new and new perplexing the poore Ladies minds, and troubling their bodies: and still swelling, the more she was stopped, [ 30] and growing hot with her owne doings, at length, abhominable rage carried her to absolute tyrannies, so that taking with her certaine olde women (of wicked dis∣positions, and apt for enuie-sake to be cruell to youth and beautie) with a counte∣nance impoisoned with malice, flew to the sweet Philoclea, as if so many Kites should come about a white Doue, and matching violēt gestures with mischieuous [ 35] threatnings, she hauing a rod in her hand (like a fury that should carry wood to the burning of Dianas temple) fell to scourge that most beautifull body: Loue in vaine holding the shield of Beautie against her blind cruelty. The Son drew clouds vp to hide his face frō so pitifull a sight; and the very stone walls did yeeld drops of sweate for agonie of such a mischiefe: each senselesse thing had sense of pittie; onely they [ 40] that had sense, were senseles. Vertue rarely found her worldly weakenes more, then by the oppression of that day: and weeping Cupid told his weeping mother, that he was sorie he was not deafe, as well as blind, that he might neuer know so la∣mentable a worke. Philoclea, with tearefull eyes, and sobbing breast (as soone as her wearines rather then compassion, gaue her respite) kneeled down to Cecropia, & ma∣king [ 45] pittie in her face honourable, and torment delightfull, besought her, since she hated her (for what cause she tooke God to witnesse she knew not) that she would at

once take away her life, and not please her selfe with the tormenting of a poore Gentlewoman. If (said she) the common course of humanitie cannot moue you, nor the hauing me in your owne walles, cannot claime pittie: nor womanlie mer∣cie, nor neere alliance, nor remembrance (how miserable so euer now) that I am a [ 5] Princes daughter; yet let the loue (you haue often tolde me) your sonne beares me, so much procure, that for his sake, one death may be thought inough for me; I haue not liued so many yeares, but that one death may be able to conclude them: neither haue my faults, I hope, bene so many, but that one death may satisfie them. It is no great suite to an enemie, when but death is desired. I craue but that, and as [ 10] for the graunting your request, know for certaine you lose your labours, being euery day furtherof-minded from becomming his wife, who vseth me like a slaue. But that in stead of getting grace, renued againe Cecropias fury: so that (excellent creature) she was newly againe tormented by those hellish monsters: Cecropia vsing no other words, but that she was a proud and vngratefull wench: and that she [ 15] would teach her to know her owne good, since of her selfe she would not conceaue it. So that with silence and patience (like a faire gorgeous armour, hammered vp∣pon by an ilfauoured Smith) she abode their pittiles dealing with her: till, rather reseruing her for more, then meaning to end, they left her to an vncomfortable leysure, to consider with her selfe her fortune; both helplesse her selfe, being a pri∣soner, [ 20] and hopelesse, since Zelmane was a prisoner: who therein onely was short of the bottome of miserie, that she knew not how vnworthilie her Angell, by these deuils was abused: but wanted (God wot) no stings of griefe, when those words did but strike vpon her hart, that Philoclea was a captiue, and she not able to succour her. For well she knew the confidence Philoclea had in her, and well she knew, Phi∣loclea [ 25] had cause to haue confidence: and all troden vnder foot by the wheele of senselesse Fortune. Yet if there be that imperious power in the soule, as it can de∣liuer knowledge to another, without bodilie organs; so vehement were the wor∣kings of their spirites, as one mette with other, though themselues perceaued it not, but onely thought it to be the doubling of their owne louing fancies. And [ 30] that was the onely worldly thing, whereon Philoclea rested her minde, that she knewe she should die beloued of Zelmane, and should die, rather then be false to Zelmane. And so this most daintie Nimphe, easing the paine of her minde with thinking of anothers paine; and almost forgetting the paine of her bodie, through the paine of her minde, she wasted, euen longing for the conclusion of [ 35] her tedious tragedie.

But for a while she was vnuisited, Cecropia employing her time in vsing the like crueltie vpon Pamela, her harte growing not onely to desire the fruite of punishing them, but euen to delight in the punishing them. But if euer the beames of per∣fection shined through the clowdes of affliction, if euer Vertue tooke a bodie to [ 40] shewe his (els vnconceaueable) beautie, it was in Pamela. For when Reason taught her there was no resistance, (for to iust resistance first her harte was encli∣ned) then with so heauenly a quietnes, and so gracefull a calmenes, did she suffer the diuers kindes of torments they vsed to her, that while they vexed her faire bodie, it seemed, that she rather directed, then obeyed the vexation. And [ 45] when Cecropia ended, and asked whether her harte woulde yeelde: she a little smiled, but such a smiling as shewed no loue, and yet could not but be louelie. And then, Beastlie woman (sayde shee) followe on, doo what thou wilte,

and canst vpon me: for I know thy power is not vnlimited. Thou maist well wracke this sillie bodie, but me thou canst neuer ouerthrowe. For my part, I will not doo the•• the pleasure to desire death of thee: but assure thy selfe, both my life and death, shall triumph with honour, laying shame vpon thy detestable tyranny.

And so, in effect, conquering their doing with her suffering, while Cecropia tried [ 5] as many sorts of paines, as might rather vexe them, then spoyle them (for that she would not do while she were in any hope to winne either of them for her sonne) Pamela remained almost as much content with triall in her selfe, what vertue could doo, as grieued with the miserie wherein she found her selfe plunged: only some∣times her thoughts softned in her, when with open wings they flew to Musidorus. [ 10] For then she would thinke with her selfe, how grieuously Musidorus would take this her miserie; and she, that wept not for herselfe, wept yet Musidorus teares, which he would weepe for her. For gentle Loue did easlier yeeld to lamentation, then the constancy of vertue would els admitte. Then would she remember the case wherein she had left her poore shepheard, and she that wished death for her [ 15] selfe, feared death for him; and she that condemned in her selfe the feeblenes of sorrow, yet thought it great reason to be sory for his sorow: and she that long had prayed for the vertuous ioyning themselues together, now thinking to die herselfe, hartely prayed, that long time their fortunes might be seperated. Liue long my Musidorus (would she say) and let my name liue in thy mouth; in thy harte my [ 20] memorie. Liue long, that thou mayst loue long the chast loue of thy dead Pamela. Then would she wish to her selfe, that no other woman might euer possesse his hart: and yet scarcely the wish was made a wish, when her selfe would finde fault with it, as being too vniust, that so excellent a man should be banished from the comfort of life. Then would she fortifie her resolution, with bethinking the worst, [ 25] taking the counsell of vertue, and comfort of loue.

So these diamonds of the world whom Nature had made to be preciously set in the eyes of men, to be the chiefe workes of her workemanship, the chiefe orna∣ments of the worlde, and Princesses of felicitie, by rebellious iniury were brought to the vttermost distres that an enemies hart could wish, or a womans spite inuent: [ 30] Cecropia dayly in one or other sorte punishing them, still with her euill torments giuing them feare of worse, making the feare it selfe the sorest torment of all; that in the ende wearie of their bodies, they should be content to bestow them at her appointment. But as in labour, the more one doth exercise it, the more by the doing one is enhabled to doo; strength growing vpon the worke, so as what at [ 35] first would haue seemed impossible, after growes easie: so these Princesses second to none, and far from any second, only to be matched by themselues, with the vse of suffering their minds gat the habit of suffring so, as all feares and terrors were to them but summons to a battaile, whereof they knew before hand they would be victorious, and which in the suffering was painfull, being suffered, was a trophe to [ 40] it selfe: whereby Cecropia found her selfe still farder off: for where at first she might perchance haue perswaded them to haue visited her sonne, and haue giuen him some comforte in his sicknesse, drawing neere to the confines of Deaths kingdome, now they protested, that they would neuer otherwise speake to him, then as to the enemy, of most vniust cruelty towards them, that any time or place could euer [ 45] make them knowe.

This made the poison swell in her cankred brest, perceiuing that (as in water)

the more she grasped the lesse she held: but yet now hauing run so long the way of rigour, it was too late in reason, and too contrary to her passion, to returne to a course of meekenesse. And therefore (taking counsell of one of her olde associates who so far excelled in wickednesse, as that she had not onely lost all feeling of con∣science, [ 5] but had gotten a very glory in euill) in the ende they determined, that beating, and other such sharp dealing did not so much pull downe a womans hart, as it bred anger, and that nothing was more enemy to yeelding, then anger; ma∣king their tender harts take on the armour of obstinacy: (for thus did their wicked mindes blinde to the light of vertue, and owly eied in the night of wickednes inter∣pret [ 10] of it) and that therefore that was no more to be tried. And for feare of death (which no question would doo most with them) they had bene so often threatned, as they began to be familiarly acquainted with it, and learned to esteeme threat∣ning words to be but words. Therefore the last, but best way now was, that the one seeing indeede the others death, should perceiue, there was no dallying meant: and [ 15] then there was no doubt, that a womans soule would do much, rather then leaue so beautifull a body.

This being concluded, Cecropia went to Philoclea, and tolde her, that now she was to come to the last part of the play: for her part, though she found her hard harted obstinacie such, that neither the sweetnesse of louing meanes, nor the force of hard [ 20] meanes could preuaile with her, yet before she would passe to a further degree of extremity; she had sought to win her sister; in hope, that her sonne might be with time satisfied with the loue of so faire a Lady: but finding her also rather more then lesse wilfull, she was now minded that one of their deathes should serue for an example to the other, that despising worthy folks was more hurtfull to the despi∣ser, [ 25] then the despised: that yet because her sonne especially affected her, and that" in her owne selfe she was more inclinable to pittie her, then she had deserued, she would begin with her sister; who that afternoone should haue her head cut off be∣fore her face; if in the meane time one of them, did not pull out their il-wrought stiches of vnkindnes, she bad her looke for no other, nor longer time then she told [ 30] her. There was no assault giuen to the sweet Philocleas minde, that entered so far, as this: for where to all paines and daungers of her selfe, foresight with (his Lieute∣nant Resolution) had made ready defence; now with the loue she bare her sister, she was driuen to a stay, before she determined: but long she staied not, before this reason did shine vnto her, that since in herselfe she preferred death before such a [ 35] base seruitude, loue did teach her to wish the same to her sister. Therefore crossing her armes, and looking side-ward vpon the ground, Do what you will (said she) with vs: for my part, heauen shall melt before I be remoued. But if you will follow my counsell, for your owne sake (for as for praiers for my sake I haue felt how little they preuaile) let my death first serue for example to win her, who perchaunce is [ 40] not so resolued against Amphialus, and so shall you not onely iustly punish mee (who indeede doo hate both you and your sonne) but, if that may mooue you, you shall doo more vertuously in preseruing one most worthy of life, and killing an other most desirous of death: lastly in winning her, in steed of a peeuish vnhap∣pie creature, that I am, you shall blesse your sonne with the most excellent woman [ 45] in all praise-worthy things, that the world holdeth. But Cecropia, (who had already set downe to her selfe what she would do) with bitter both termes, and counte∣naunce, told her, that she should not neede to woo death ouer-egerly: ••or if her sister

going before her did not teach her wit, her selfe should quickly follow. For since they were not to be gotten, there was no way for her sonnes quiet, but to knowe, that they were past getting. And so since no intreating, nor threatning might pre∣uayle, she bad her prepare her eies for a new play, which she should see within fewe houres in the hall of that castle. [ 5]

A place indeed ouerfit for so vnfit a matter: for being so stately made that the bottome of it being euen with the ground, the roofe reached as hie as any part of the castle, at either ende it had conuenient lodgings. In the one ende was (one storie from the ground) Philocleas abode, in the other of euen height, Pamelas, and Zelmanes in a chamber aboue her: but all so vaulted of strong, and thickly built [ 10] stone, as one could no way heare the other: each of these chambers had a litle windowe to looke into the hall, but because the sisters should not haue so much comforte, as to looke one to another, there was (of the outsides) curtaynes drawne, which they could not reach with their hands, so barring the reach of their sight. But when the houre came that the Tragedie should beginne, the curtaynes were [ 15] withdrawen from before the windowes of Zelmane, and of Philoclea: a sufficient challenge to call their eyes to defende themselues in such an incounter. And by and by came in at one ende of the hall, with about a dozen armed souldiers a Ladie, led by a couple, with her handes bounde before her: from aboue her eyes to her lippes muffled with a faire kerchiefe, but from her mouth to the shoulders all [ 20] bare: and so was led on to a scaffold raised a good deale from the floore, and all couered with crimsin veluet. But neither Zelmane, nor Philoclea needed to be tolde who she was: for the apparell she ware made them too well assured, that it was the admirable Pamela. Whereunto the rare whitenesse of her naked necke gaue suffici∣ent testimonie to their astonnished senses. But the fayre Ladie being come to the [ 25] scaffold, and then made to kneele downe, and so lefte by her vnkinde suppor∣ters, as it seemed that she was about to speake somewhat (whereunto Philoclea, poore soule, earnestly listned, according to her speach euen minding to frame her minde, her harte neuer till then almost wauering to saue her sisters life) before the vnfortunate Ladie could pronounce three wordes, the executioner cut off the [ 30] ones speech, and the others attention, with making his sworde doo his cruell office vpon that beautifull necke. Yet the pittilesse sworde had such pittie of so pretious an obiect, that at first it did but hit flat long. But little auailed that, since the Ladie falling downe astonnished withall, the cruell villayne forced the sworde with another blowe to diuorce the faire marriage of the head and body. [ 35]

And this was done so in an instant, that the very act did ouerrun Philocleas sor∣row (sorrow not being able so quickly to thunderbolt her harte thorough her sen∣ses, but first onely opprest her with a storme of amazement) but when her eies sawe that they did see, as condemning themselues to haue seene it, they became weary of their owne power of seeing: and her soule then drinking vp woe with [ 40] great draughts, she fell downe to deadly traunces: but her waiting iaylors with cruell pitty brought lothed life vnto her; which yet many times tooke his leaue as though he would indeed depart: but when he was staied by force, he kept with him deadly Sorrow, which thus exercised her mourning speech. Pamela my sister, my sister Pamela, woe is me for thee, I would I had died for thee. Pamela neuer more [ 45] shall I see thee: neuer more shall I enioy thy sweet companie, and wise counsell. Alas, thou arte gone to beautifie heauen, and hast left me here, who haue nothing

good in me, but that I did euer loue thee, and euer will lament thee. Let this daye be noted of all vertuous folkes for most vnfortunate: let it neuer be mentioned, but among curses; and cursed bee they that did this mischiefe, and most accursed bee mine eyes that behelde it. Sweete Pamela; that head is striken of, where onely wise∣dome [ 5] might be spoken withall; that bodie is destroyed, which was the liuing booke of vertue. Deare Pamela how haste thou lefte me to all wretchednesse, and miserie? Yet while thou liuedst, in thee I breathed, of thee I hoped. O Pamela, how much did I for thy excellencie honour thee, more then my mother, and loue thee more then my selfe? Neuer more shall I lie with thee: neuer more shall we bathe in the [ 10] pleasant riuer together: neuer more shall I see thee in thy shephearde apparell. But thou arte gone, and where am I? Pamela is dead; and liue I? O my God, And with that she fell againe in a soune, so as it was a great while before they could bring her to her selfe againe; but being come to her-selfe, Alas (said she) vnkind women, since you haue giuen me so many deathes, torment me not now with life: for Gods sake [ 15] let me goe, and excuse your hands of more blood. Let me follow my Pamela, whom euer I sought to follow. Alas Pamela, they will not let me come to thee. But if they keepe promise, I shall treade thine owne steppes after thee. For to what am I borne (miserable soule) but to be most vnhappie in my selfe, and yet more vnhappie in o∣thers? But ô that a thousand more miseries had chanced vnto me, so thou haddest [ 20] not dyed: Pamela, my sister Pamela. And so, like lamentable Philomela complained she the horrible wrong done to her sister, which if it stird not in the wickedly closed minds of her tormentors, a pittie of her sorrow, yet bredde it a wearinesse of her sor∣row: so as onely leauing one to preuent any harme ••he should doo her selfe, the rest went away, consulting againe with Cecropia, how to make profite of this their late [ 25] bloodie act.

In the ende, that woman that vsed most to keepe company with Zelmane, tolde Cecropia, that she founde by many most sensible proofes in Zelmane, that there was neuer woman so loued another, as she loued Philoclea: which was the cause that she (further then the commandement of Cecropia) had caused Zelmanes curtaines to bee [ 30] also drawne: because hauing the same spectacle that Philoclea had, shee might stand in the greater feare for her, whom she loued so well: and that indeed she had hit the needle in that deuise: for neuer saw she creature so astonished as Zelmane, exceeding∣ly sory for Pamela, but exceedingly exceeding that exceedingnes in feare for Philo∣clea. Therefore her aduice was, shee ••houlde cause Zelmane to come and speake with [ 35] Philoclea. For there being such vehemencie of friendship between them, it was most likely both to moue Zelmane to perswade, and Philoclea to be perswaded, Cecropia li∣ked well of the counsell, and gaue order to the same woman to go deale therin with Zelmane, and to assure her with othe, that Cecropia was determined Philoclea should passe the same way that Pamela had done, without she did yeeld to satisfie the extre∣mitie [ 40] of her sonnes affection: which the woman did, adding thereunto many (as she thought) good reasons to make Zelmane thinke Amphialus a fit match for Phi∣loclea.

But Zelmane (who had from time to time vnderstood the cruell dealing they had vsed to the sisters, and now had her own eies wounded with the sight of ones death) [ 45] was so confused withall (her courage still rebelling against her wit, desiring stil with force to doo impossible matters) that as her desire was stopped with power, so her conceit was darkned with a mist of desire. For blinde Loue; and inuincible valure

still would cry out, that it could not bee, Philoclea should bee in so miserable estate, and she not relieue her: and so while shee haled her wit to her courage, shee drew it from his owne limits. But nowe Philocleas death (a worde able to marshall ••ll his thoughts in order) being come to so short a point either with small delay to be suf∣fred, or by the giuing her selfe to another to be preuented, she was driuen to thinke, [ 5] and to desire some leasure of thinking: which the woman granted for that night vn∣to her. A night that was not halfe so blacke, as her minde; not halfe so silent, as was fit for her musing thoughts. At last, he that would faine haue desperatly lost a thou∣sand liues for her sake, could not finde in his harte, that she should loose any life for her owne sake; and he that despised his owne death in respect of honour, yet could [ 10] well nye dispense with honour it selfe in respect of Philocleas death: for once the thought could not enter into his harte, nor the breath issue out of his mouth, which could consent to Philocleas death for any bargaine. Then how to preuent the next degree to death (which was her being possest by another) was the point of his mindes labour: and in that he founde no other way, but that Philoclea shoulde pre∣tend [ 15] a yeelding vnto Cecropias request; and so by speaking with Amphialus, and ma∣king faire (but delaying) promises, procure libertie for Zelmane; who only wisht but to come by a sword, not doubting then to destroy them all, and deliuer Philoclea: so little did both the men, and their forces seeme in her eyes, looking down vpon them from the hye toppe of affections tower. [ 20]

With that minde therefore (but first well bound) shee was brought to Philoclea, hauing already plotted out in her conceite, how she would deale with her: and so came she with hart and eyes, which did each sacrifice either to Loue vpon the aultar of Sorrow: and there had shee the pleasing displeasing sight of Philoclea: Philoclea, whō alredy the extreame sense of sorrow had brought to a dulnesse therein, her face [ 25] not without tokens that beautie had bene by many miseries cruelly battered, and yet shewed it most the perfection of that beautie, which coulde remaine vnouer∣throwne by such enimies. But when Zelmane was set downe by her, and the women gone away (because she might be the better perswaded when no body was by, that had heard her say she would not bee perswaded) then began first the eyes to speake, [ 30] and the harts to crie out: Sorrow a while would nedees speake his owne language without vsing their tongues to be his interpreters. At last Zelmane brake silence, but spake with the onely eloquence of amazement: for all her long methodized orati∣one was inherited onely by such kinde of speeches. Deare Ladie, in extreame neces∣sities we must not. But alas vnfortunate wretch that I am, that I liue to see this daye. [ 35] And I take heauen and earth to witnesse, that nothing: and with that her brest swel∣led so with spite and griefe, that her breath had not leasure to turne it selfe into words. But the sweet Philoclea that had alredie dyed in Pamela, & of the other side had the heauines of her hart something quickned in the most beloued sight of Zel∣mane, ghessed somewhat at Zelmanes mind; and therefore spake vnto her in this sort. [ 40] My Pyrocles (saide shee) I knowe this exceeding comfort of your presence, is not brought vnto mee for any good-will that is owned vnto mee: but (as I suppose to make you perswade me to saue my life with the ransome of mine honour: although no bodie shoulde bee so vnfit a pleader in that cause, as your selfe, yet perchance you woulde haue me liue. Your honour? God forbid (saide Zelmane) that euer, for [ 45] any cause, I should yeeld to any touch of it. But a while to pretend some affection, til time, or my libertie might worke somthing for your seruice: this, if my astonished

senses would giue me leaue, I would faine haue perswaded you.

To what purpose my Pyrocles? (said Philoclea) of a miserable time what gaine is there? hath Pamelaes example wrought no more in mee? is a captiue life so much worth? can euer it goe out of these lips, that I loue any other but Pyrocles? shall my [ 5] tongue bee so false a traitor to my hart, as to say I loue any other but Pyrocles? And why should I do all this? to liue? O Pamela, sister Pamela, why shoulde I liue? onely for thy sake Pyrocles I would liue: but to thee I know too well I shall not liue; and if not to thee, hath thy loue so base allay, my Pyrocles, as to wish mee to liue? sor dissi∣mulation, my Pyrocles, my simplicitie is such, that I haue hardly bene able to keepe [ 10] a straight way; what shall I doo in a crooked? But in this case there is no meane of dissimulation, not for the cunningest: present answere is required, and present per∣formance vpon the answere. Art thou so terrible, ô Death? No my Pyrocles; and for that I doo thanke thee, and in my soule thanke thee; for I confesse the loue of thee is heerein my chiefest vertue. Trouble mee not therefore, deare Pyrocles, nor [ 15] double not my death by tormenting my resolution: since I cannot liue with thee, I will dye for thee. Onely remember me deare Pyrocles; and loue the remembrance of mee: & if I may craue so much of thee, let me be thy last loue, for though I be not worthy of thee (who indeed art the worthiest creature liuing) yet remember that my loue was a worthy loue. But Pyrocles was so ouercome with sorrow (which wis∣dome [ 20] and vertue made iust in so excellent a Ladies case, full of so excellent kindnes) that words were ashamed to come forth knowing how weak they were to expresse his mind, and her merit: and therefore so stayed in a deadly silence, forsaken of hope and forsaking comfort: till the appointed gardians came in, to see the fruits of Zel∣manes labour: and then Zelmane warned by their presence, fell againe to perswade, [ 25] though scarcely her selfe could tell what; but in sum, desirous of delayes. But Philoc∣lea sweetly continuing constant, and in the end punishing her importunity with silence, Zelmane was faine to ende. Yet crauing an other times conference, shee ob∣tained it, and diuers others; till at the last Cecropia founde it was to no purpose, and therefore determined to follow her owne way. Zelmane yet still desirous to win (by [ 30] any meanes) respit, euen wasted with sorrow, and vncertaine, whether in worse case in her presence, or absence, being able to doo nothing for Philocleas succour, but by submitting the greatest corage of the earth to fall at the feete of Cecropia, and craue stay of their sentence til the vttermost was seene, what her perswasions might doo.

[ 35] Cecropia seemed much to bee moued by her importunitie, so as diuers dayes were wonne of painefull life to the excellent Philoclea: while Zelmane suffred some hope to cherrish her minde, especially trusting vpon the helpe of Musidorus, who (shee knew) woulde not bee idle in this matter, till one morning a noise awaked Zelmane, from whose ouer-watchfull mind, the tired body had stolne a little sleep: & streight [ 40] with the first opening of her eyes, Care taking his woonted place, she ranne to the window which looked into the hall (for that way the noise guided her,) and there might shee see (the curtaine being left open euer since the last execution) seuen or eight persons in a cluster vpon the scaffold: who by and by retiring themselues, no∣thinge was to bee seene thereupon, but a basan of golde, pittifully enameled with [ 45] bloud, and in the midst of it, the head of the most beautifull Philoclea. The horrible∣nes of the mischiefe was such, as Pyrocles coulde not at first beleeue his owne senses, but bent his woefull eyes to discerne it better: where too well hee might see it was

Philocleas selfe, hauing no veile, but beautie, ouer the face, which still appeared to be aliue: so did those eyes shine, euen as they were woont, and they were woont more then any other: and sometimes as they moued, it might well make the behol∣der think, that death therein had borowed her beautie, and not they any way dis∣graced by death: so sweet and pearsing a grace they caried with them. [ 5]

It was not a pitie, it was not an amazement, it was not a sorrow which then laid hold on Pyrocles, but a wilde furie of desperate agonie, so that hee cried out, O ty∣raunt heauen, traytor earth, blinde prouidence; no iustice, howe is this done? how is this suffered? hath this worlde a gouernment? If it haue, let it poure out all his mischiefes vpon mee, and see whether it haue power to make mee more wrecthed [ 10] then I am. Did she excell for this? haue I prayed for this? abhominable hande that did it; detestable deuill that commaunded it; cursed light that beheld it: and if the light be cursed, what are then mine eyes that haue seene it? And haue I seene Phi∣loclea dead, and doo I liue? and haue I liued, not to helpe her, but to talke of her? and stande I still talking? And with that (caried with the madnes of anguish, not ha∣uing [ 15] a redier waye to kill himselfe) hee ranne as hard as euer hee coulde, with his head against the wall, with intention to braine himselfe: but the haste to do it made the doing the slower. For, as hee came to giue the blow, his foot tript, so as it came not with the full force: yet forcible inough to strike him downe; and withall, to de∣priue him of his sense, so that he lay a while comforted by the hurt, in that hee felte [ 20] not his discomfort.

And when he came againe to himselfe, he heard, or he thought he heard a voice which cried, Reuenge, Reuenge vnto him; whether indeede it were his good An∣gell, which vsed that voice to stay him from vnnaturall murdering of himselfe; or that his wandering spirites lighted vpon that conceite, and by their weakenes sub∣iect [ 25] to apprehensions) supposed they heard it. But that indeed, helped with Vertue, and her valiant seruant Anger, stopped him from present destroying himselfe: yeel∣ding, in reason and manhoode, first to destroy, man, woman, and childe, that were any way of kinne to them that were accessarie to this crueltie; then to raze the Cas∣tle, and to builde a sumptuous monument for her sister; and a most sumptuous for [ 30] her selfe, and then, himselfe to die vpon her tomb. This determining in himselfe to do, and to seek all meanes how (for that purpose) to get out of prison: he was con∣tent a while to beare the thirst of death: and yet went he againe to the windowe, to kisse the beloued heade with his eies, but there saw hee nothing but the scaffold, all couered ouer with skarlet, & nothing but solitarie silence, to mourn this mischiefe. [ 35] But then, Sorrow hauing disperste it selfe from his harte, into all his noble partes, it proclaimed his authoritie, in cries, and teares, and with a more gentle dolefulnes, coulde poure out his inward euill.

Alas (saide he) and is that head taken away too, so soone from mine eyes? What, mine eyes, perhappes they enuie the excellencie of your sorrowe? Indeede, there [ 40] is nothing now left to become the eyes of all mankinde, but teares: and woe bee to me, if any exceede me in wofulnes. I doo coniure you all, my senses, to accept no obiect, but of Sorrow: be ashamed, nay, abhor to thinke of comfort. Vnhappie eyes you haue seene too much, that euer the light shoulde bee welcome to you: vnhap∣pie eares, you shall neuer heare the musicke of Musicke in her voice vnhappie hast, [ 45] that haste liued to feele these pangues. Thou hast done thy worst, World, and cur∣sed be thou, and cursed art thou, since to thine owne selfe thou hast done the worst

thou couldest doo. Exiled Beautie, let onely now thy beautie bee blubbered faces, Widowed Musicke, let now thy tunes be rorings, and lamentations. Orphane Ver∣tue, get thee winges, and flie after her into heauen; heere is no dwelling place for thee. Why liued I, alas? Alas why loued I? to die wretched, and to be the example [ 5] of the heauens hate? And hate, and spare not, for your worst blow is striken. Sweete Philoclea, thou art gone, and hast carried with thee my loue; and hast left thy loue in me, and I wretched man do liue; I liue, to die continually, till thy reuenge do giue me leaue to dy: & thē dy I wil, my Philoclea, my hart willinglie makes this promise to it selfe. Surely hee did not looke vpon thee, that gaue the cruell blow: for no eye [ 10] could haue abidden to see such beautie ouerthrowen by such mischiefe. Alas, why should they diuide such a head from such a bodie? no other bodye is worthy of that head; no other head is worthie of that body: O yet, if I had taken my last leaue, if I might haue taken a holie kisse from that dying mouth. Where art thou Hope which promisest neuer to leaue a man while he liueth? Tell me, what canst thou hope for? [ 15] nay tel me, what is ther which I would willingly hope after? Wishing power (which is accounted infinite) what now is left to wish for? She is gone, and gone with her all my hope, all my wishing. Loue, be ashamed to be called Loue: cruell Hate, vn∣speakable Hate is victorious ouer thee. Who is there nowe left, that can iustifie thy tyrannie, and giue reason to thy passion? O cruell diuorce of thy sweetest mari∣age [ 20] that euer was in Nature: Philoclea is dead, and dead is with her all goodnesse, all sweetnes al excellencie. Philoclea is dead, & yet Life is not ashamed to continue vpon the earth. Philoclea is dead: O deadly word; which cōtaineth in it selfe the vttermost of al misfortunes. But happie worde when thou shalt be said of me, and long it shall not be, before it be said.

[ 25] Then stopping his wordes with sighes, drowning his sighes in teares, and drying againe his teares in rage, he would sitte a while in a wandring muse, which represen∣ted nothing but vexations vnto him: then throwing himselfe sometime vpon the floore, and sometimes vpon the bedde: then vp againe, till walking was wearisome and rest loathsome: and so neither suffering foode, nor sleepe to helpe his afflicted [ 30] nature, all that day and night he did nothing, but weepe Philoclea, sigh Philoclea, and crie out Philaclea: till as it happened (at that time vpon his bed) towarde the daw∣ning of the day, he heard one stirre in his chamber, by the motion of garments; and with an angry voice asked, Who was there? A poore Gentlewoman (answered the partie) that wish long life vnto you. And I soone death to you (said he) for the [ 35] horrible curse you haue giuen me. Certainely (said she) an vnkind answere, and far vnworthy the excellencie of your minde; but not vnsutable to the rest of your be∣hauiour. For most parte of this night I haue hearde you (being let into your cham∣ber, you neuer perceiuing it, so was your minde estraunged from your senses) and haue hearde nothing of Zelmane, in Zelmane, nothing but weake waylings fitter, for [ 40] some nurse of a village, then so famous a creature as you are. O God (cried out Py∣rocles) that thou wert a man that vsest these wordes vnto me. I tell thee I am sorry: I tell thee I will be sory in despite of thee, and all them that woulde haue mee ioyful. And yet (replied she) perchance Philoclea is not dead, whom you so much bemone I would we were both dead of that condition, said Pyrocles. See the folly of your pas∣sion [ 45] (said she) as though you should be neerer to her, you being dead, and she aliue; then shee being dead, and you aliue: and if shee be dead, was shee not borne to die? what then do you crie out for? not for her, who must haue died one time or other;

but for some fewe yeares: so as it is time, and this world that seeme so louely things, and not Philoclea vnto you. O noble Sisters (cried Pyrocles) now you be gone (who were the onely exalters of all womankind) what is left in that sex, but babling, and businesse? And truely (said she) I will yet a little longer trouble you. Nay, I praye you doo (said Pyrocles) for I wishe for nothing in my shorte life, but mischiefes, and [ 5] combers: and I am content you shall be one of them. In truth (said she) you would thinke your selfe a greatly priuiledged person, if since the strongest building, and lastingest monarchies are subiect to ende, onely your Philoclea (because she is yours) should be exempted. But indeede you bemone your selfe, who haue lost a friende: you cannot her, who hath in one act both preserued her honour, and leste the mise∣ries [ 10] of this worlde. O womans philosophie, childish follie (said Pyrocles) as though if I do bemone my selfe, I haue not reason to doo so, hauing lost more then any Mo∣narchie, nay then my life can be woorth vnto me. Alas (saide shee) comforte your selfe, Nature did not forget her skill, when she had made them: you shall find many their superiours, and perchaunce such, as (when your eyes shall looke abroad) your [ 15] selfe will like better.

But that the speech put al good manners out of the conceit of Pyrocles; in so much, that leaping out of his bed, he ran to haue striken her: but comming neere her (the morning then winning the field of darkenesse) he saw, or hee thought hee sawe, in∣deed, the very face of Philoclea; the same sweetenesse, the same grace, the same beau∣tie: [ 20] with which carried into a diuine astonishment, he fell downe at her feete. Most blessed Angell (said he) well haste thou done to take that shape, since thou woul∣dest submit thy selfe to mortall sense; for a more Angelicall forme coulde not haue bene created for thee. Alas, euen by that excellent beautie, so beloued of me, let it be lawfull for me to aske of thee, what is the cause, that shee, that heauenly creature, [ 25] whose forme you haue taken, shoulde by the heauens bee destined to so vnripe an ende? Why should vniustice so preuaile? Why was she seene to the world so soone to be rauished from vs? Why was shee not suffered to liue, to teach the worlde per∣fection? Doo not deceiue thy selfe (answered shee) I am no Angell; I am Philoclea, the same Philoclea, so truely louing you, so truely beloued of you. If it be so (said he) [ 30] that you are indeede the soule of Philoclea, you haue done well to keepe your owne figure: for no heauen could haue giuen you a better. Then alas, why haue you taken the paines to leaue your blisfull seat to come to this place most wretched, to mee, who am wretchednes it selfe, & not rather obtaine for me, that I might come where you are, there eternally to behold, and eternally to loue your beauties? you knowe [ 35] (I know) that I desire nothing but death, which I onely stay, to bee iustly reuenged of your vniust murtherers. Deare Pyrocles (said shee) I am thy Philoclea, and as yet li∣uing: not murdred, as you supposed, and therefore bee comforted. And with that gaue him her hand, But the sweet touch of that hand seemed, to his astraied powers so heauenly a thing, that it rather for a while confirmed him in his former beliefe: [ 40] till she, with vehement protestations (and desire that it might be so, helping to per∣swade that it was so) brought him to yeeld; yet doubtfully to yeelde to this height of all comfort, that Philoclea liued: which witnessing with teares of ioy, Alas (saide he) how shall I beleeue mine eies any more? or doo you yet but appeare thus vnto me, to stay me from some desperate end? For alas I sawe the excellent Pamela behea∣ded: [ 45] I sawe your head (the head indeede, and chiefe parte of all natures workes) standing in a dishe of golde, too meane a shrine (God wote) for such a relike. How

can this be, my onely deare, and you liue? or if this be not so, how can I beleeue mine owne senses? and if I can not beleeue them, why should I now beleeue these blessed tidings they bring me?

The truth is (said she) my Pyrocles, that neither I (as you finde) nor yet my deare [ 5] sister is dead: although the mischieuously suttle Cecropia vsed slights to make either of vs thinke so of other. For, hauing in vaine attempted the fardest of her wicked eloquence, to make eyther of vs yeeld to her sonne, and seeing that neither it, ac∣companied with great flatteries, and riche presents, could get any ground of vs, nor yet the violent way she fell into of cruelly tormenting our bodies, could pre∣uayle [ 10] with vs; at last, she made either of vs thinke the other dead, and so hoped to haue wrested our mindes to the forgetting of vertue: and first she gaue to mine eyes the miserable spectacle of my sisters (as I thought) death: but indeede it was not my sister: it was onely Artesia, she who so cunningly brought vs to this mi∣sery. Truly I am sory for the poore Gentlewoman, though iustly she be punished [ 15] for her double falshood: but Artesia muffled so, as you could not easily discerne her; and in my sisters apparell (which they had taken from her vnder colour of giuing her other) did they execute: And when I (for thy sake especially deare Pyrocles) could by no force, nor feare be won, they assayed the like with my sister, by bringing me downe vnder the scaffolde, and (making me thrust my [ 20] head vp through a hole they had made therein) they did put about my poore necke a dishe of gold, whereout they had beaten the bottome, so as hauing set bloud in it, you sawe how I played the parte of death (God knowes euen willing to haue done it in earnest) and so had they set me, that I reached but on tiptoes to the grounde, so as scarcely I could breathe, much lesse speake: And truely if [ 25] they had kept me there any whit longer, they had strangled me, in steed of behea∣ding me: but then they tooke me away, and seeking to see their issue of this pra∣ctise, they found my noble sister (for the deare loue she vouchsafeth to beare me) so grieued withall, that she willed them to doo their vttermost crueltie vnto her: for she vowed, neuer to receiue sustenaunce of them, that had bene the cau∣sers [ 30] of my murther: and finding both of vs, euen giuen ouer, not like to liue ma∣ny houres longer, and my sister Pamela, rather worse then my selfe, (the strength of her harte worse bearing those indignities) the good woman Cecropia (with the same pittie as folkes keepe foule, when they are not fatte inough for their eating) made vs knowe her deceipt, and let vs come one to another; with what ioye [ 35] you can well imagine, who I know feele the like; sauing that we only thought our selues reserued to miseries, and therefore fitter for condoling, then congratula∣ting. For my part, I am fully perswaded, it is but with a little respite, to haue a more feeling sense of the torments she prepares for vs. True it is, that one of my guar∣dians would haue me to beleeue, that this proceedes of my gentle cousin Am∣phialus: [ 40] who hauing heard some inckling that we were euill entreated, had called his mother to his bedside, from whence he neuer rose since his last combat, and besought, and charged her vpon all the loue she bare him, to vse vs with all kind∣nesse: vowing, with all the imprecations he could imagine, that if euer he vnder∣stood for his sake, that I receiued further hurt then the want of my libertie, hee [ 45] would not liue an houre longer. And the good woman sware to me that he would kill his mother, if hee knewe how I had bene dealt with; but that Cecropia keepes him from vnderstanding thinges howe they passe, onely hauing heard

a whispering, and my selfe named, he had (of aboundaunce, forsooth, of hono∣rable loue) giuen this charge for vs. Whereupon this enlargement of mine was growne: for my parte I know too well their cunning (who leaue no mony vnof∣fered that may buy mine honour) to beleeue any word they say, but (my deare Pyrocles) euen looke for the worste, and prepare my selfe for the same. Yet I must [ 5] confesse, I was content to robbe from death, and borrowe of my misery the sweet comfort of seeing my sweet sister, and most sweete comfort of thee my Pyrocles. And so hauing leaue, I came stealing into your chamber: where (O Lord) what a ioy it was vnto me, to heare you solemnise the funerals of the poore Philoclea? That I my selfe might liue to heare my death bewailed? and by whom? by my [ 10] deere Pyrocles. That I saw death was not strong enough to diuide thy loue from me? O my Pyrocles, I am too well paide for my paines I haue suffred: ioyfull is my woe for so noble a cause; and welcome be all miseries, since to thee I am so wel∣come. Alas how I pittied to heare thy pittie of me; and yet a great while I could not finde in my hart to interrupt thee, but often had euen pleasure to weepe with [ 15] thee: and so kindly came forth thy lamentations, that they inforced me to lament to, as if indeed I had beene a looker on, to see poore Philoclea dye. Till at last I spake with you, to try whether I could remoue thee from sorrow, till I had almost procu∣red my selfe a beating. And with that she pretily smiled, which, mingled with her teares, one could not tell whether it were a mourning pleasure, or a delightfull sor∣row: [ 20] but like when a few Aprill drops are scattered by a gentle Zephyrus among fine coloured flowers. But Pyrocles, who had felt (with so small distance of time) in him∣selfe the ouerthrow both of hope and despaire, knew not to what key he should tune his mind, either of ioy, or sorrow. But finding perfite reason in neither, suffred himself to be caried by the tide of his imagination, and his imaginations to be raised [ 25] euen by the sway, which hearing or seing, might giue vnto them: he saw her aliue, he was glad to see her aliue: he saw her weep, he was sory to see her weep: he heard her comfortable speches, nothing more gladsome: he hard her prognosticating her own destruction, nothing more dolefull. But when he had a little taken breath from the panting motion of such contrarietie in passions, he fell to consider with her of [ 30] her present estate, both comforting her, that certainely the worst of this storme was past, since alreadie they had done the worst, which mans wit could imagine: and that if they had determined to haue killed her, now they would haue done it: and also earnestly counselling her, and inhabling his counsels with vehement prayers, that she would so far second the hopes of Amphialus, as that she might but procure [ 35] him liberty; promising then as much to her, as the liberalitie of louing corage durst promise to himselfe.

But who would liuely describe the manner of these speeches, should paint out the lightsome coulours of affection, shaded with the deepest shadowes of sorrow, finding then betweene hope and feare, a kind of sweetenes in teares: till Philoclea [ 40] content to receaue a kisse, and but a kisse of Pyrocles, sealed vp his mouing lips, and closed them vp in comfort: and her-selfe (for the passage was left betweene them open) went to her sister: with whom she had stayed but a while, fortifying one another (while Philoclea tempered Pamelas iust disdaine, and Pamela ennobled Phi∣locleas sweet humblenesse) when Amphialus cam vnto them: who neuer since [ 45] he had heard Philoclea named, could bee quiet in himselfe, although none of them about him (fearing more his mothers violence then his power) would

discouer what had passed: and many messages he sent to know her estate, which brought answeres backe, according as it pleased Cecropia to indite them, till his hart full of vnfortunate affection, more and more misgiuing him, hauing impatiently borne the delay of the nights vnfitnesse, this morning he gat vp, and though full of [ 5] woundes (which not without daunger could suffer such exercise) he apparelled himselfe, and with a countenance, that shewed strength in nothing but in griefe, he came where the sisters were; and weakely kneeling downe, he besought them to pardon him, if they had not bene vsed in that castle according to their worthi∣nes, and his duetie; beginning to excuse small matters, poore Gentleman, not kno∣wing [ 10] in what sort they had bene handled.

But Pamelaes hye hart (hauing conceiued mortall hate for the iniurie offred to her and her sister) could scarcely abide his sight, much lesse heare out his excuses; but interrupted him with these words. Traitor (said she) to thine owne blood, and false to the profession of so much loue as thou hast vowed, doo not defile our [ 15] eares with thy excuses; but pursue on thy crueltie, that thou and thy godly mo∣ther haue vsed towards vs: for my part, assure thy selfe, and so do I answere for my sister (whose mind I know) I do not more desire mine owne safetie then thy de∣struction. Amazed with this speech, he turned his eye, full of humble sorrowfulnes, to Philoclea. And is this (most excellent Ladie) your doome of me also? She, sweete [ 20] Ladie, sate weeping: for as her most noble kinsman she had euer fauoured him, and loued his loue, though she could not be in loue with his person; and now partly vnkindnes of his wrong, partly pittie of his case, made her sweete mind yeeld some teares, before she could answere; and her answere was no other, but that she had the same cause as her sister had. He replyed no further, but deliuering from his [ 25] hart two or three (vntaught) sighes, rose, and with most low reuerence went out of their chamber: and streight by threatning torture, learned of one of the women, in what terrible manner those Princesses had bene vsed. But when he heard it, cry∣ing out, O God; and then not able to say any more (for his speech went backe to rebound woe vpon his hart) he needed no iudge to goe vpon him: for no man [ 30] could euer thinke any other worthy of greater punishment, then he thought him∣selfe. Full therefore of the horriblest despaire, which a most guiltie conscience could breed, with wild lookes promising some terrible issue, vnderstanding his mo∣ther was vpon the top of the leades, he caught one of his seruants swords from him, and none of them daring to stay him, he went vp, carried by furie, in steede of [ 35] strength; where she was at that time, musing how to goe thorough with this mat∣ter, and resoluing to make much of her Neeces in shew, and secreatly to impoison them; thinking since they were not to be wonne, her sonnes loue would no o∣therwise be mitigated.

But when she sawe him come in with a sworde drawne, and a looke more ter∣rible [ 40] then the sword, she streight was stricken with the guiltines of her owne con∣science: yet the wel known humblenes of her sonne somwhat animated her, till he, comming nearer her, and crying to her, Thou damnable creature, onely fit to bring forth such a monster of vnhappines as I am; she fearing he would haue stricken her (though indeed he meant it not, but only intended to kill himselfe in her presence) [ 45] went backe so farre, till ere she were aware, she ouerthrew her selfe from ouer the Leades, to receaue her deathes kisse at the ground: and yet was she not so hap∣pie as presentlie to dye, but that she had time with hellish agonie to see her sonnes 〈1 page missing〉〈1 page missing〉 〈1 page missing〉〈1 page missing〉

then knowen, whom she had in her Countrey, but so olde, as not able to trauaile: but had giuen her soueraigne annointments, to preserue his body withall, till he might be brought vnto him: and that Basilius had graunted leaue: either naturall kindnes preuailing ouer all the offences done, or rather glad to make any passage, which might leade him out of his countrie, and from his daughters. This discourse [ 5] Lycurgus vnderstanding of Helene, deliuered to his brother, with her vehement desire to see the body, and take her last farewell of him. Anaxius, though hee were fallen out with all womankind (in respect of the hate he bare the sisters, whom hee accounted murtherers of Amphialus) yet at his brothers request, graunted her leaue. And she (poore Lady) with grieuous expectation, and languishing desire, [ 10] caried her faint legs to the place where he lay, either not breathing, or in all appea∣rance breathing nothing but death.

In which pittious plight when she saw him, though Sorow had set before her minde the pittifullest conceit thereof that it could paint, yet the present sight went beyonde all former apprehensions: so that beginning to kneele by the bodie, her [ 15] sight ranne from her seruice, rather then abide such a sight; and she fell in a soune vpon him, as if she could not choose but dye of his wounds. But when her breath (aweary to be closed vp in woe) broke the prison of her faire lippes, and brought memorie (with his seruaunt senses) to his naturall office, she yet made the breath conuey these dolefull wordes with it. Alas (said she) Amphialus, what [ 20] strange disasters be these, that hauing sought thee so long, I should be now sorie to finde thee? that these eyes should looke vpon Amphialus, and be grieued with∣all? that I should haue thee in my power without glory, and embrace thee without comfort? How often haue I blest the meanes that might bring me neere thee? Now, woe worth the cause that brings me so neere thee. Often, alas, often hast [ 25] thou disdained my teares: but now, my deare Amphialus, receiue them: these eyes can serue for nothing else, but to weepe for thee; since thou wouldest neuer vouch∣safe them thy comfort, yet disdaine not them thy sorrow. I would they had bene more deare vnto thee; for then hadst thou liued. Woe is me that thy noble harte could loue who hated thee, and hate who loued thee. Alas, why should not my [ 30] faith to thee couer my other defects, who only sought to make my Crowne thy foote-stoole, my selfe thy seruaunt? that was all my ambition; and alas thou dis∣dainedst it to serue them, by whom thy incomparable selfe were disdained. Yet (ô Philoclea) wheresoeuer you are, pardon me, if I speake in the bitternes of my soule, excellent may you be in all other things (and excellent sure you are since he [ 35] loued you) your want of pittie, where the fault onely was infinitenesse of desert, cannot be excused. I would, O God, I would that you had graunted his deserued suite of marrying you, and that I had bene your seruing-maide, to haue made my estate the foile of your felicitie, so he had liued. How many weary steps haue I trodden after thee, while my onely complaint was, that thou wert vnkinde? Alas [ 40] I would now thou wert, to be vnkind. Alas why wouldest thou not commaund my seruice, in persuading Philoclea to loue thee? who could, or (if euery one could) who would haue recounted thy perfections so well, as I? who with such kindly passions could haue stirred pittie for thee as I? who should haue deliuered not only the wordes, but the teares I had of thee? and so shouldest thou haue exercised thy [ 45] disdaine in me, and yet vsed my seruice for thee.

With that the body mouing somewhat, and giuing a groneful of deaths musick,

she fell vpon his face, and kist him, and with all cried out. O miserable I, that haue onely fauour by miserie: and then, woulde shee haue returned to a fresh careere of complaints, when an aged and wise Gentleman came to her, and besought her, to remember what was fit for her greatnesse, wisdome, and honour: and with all, that [ 5] it was fitter to show her loue, in carying the body to her excellent Surgeon, first ap∣plying such excellent medicines as she had receiued of him for that purpose, rather then onely shew her selfe a woman-louer in fruitles lamentations. She was streight warned with the obedience of an ouerthrowen minde, and therefore leauing some surgeons of her owne to dresse the body, went herselfe to Anaxius, and humbling [ 10] her selfe to him, as lowe as his owne pride could wish, besought him, that since the surgeons there had vtterly giuen him ouer, that he would let her carie him awaye in her litter with her, since the worst he could haue should bee to die, and to die in her armes that loued him aboue all things; and where he should haue such monuments erected ouer him, as were fit for her loue, and his worthines: beseeching him with∣all, [ 15] since she was in a country of enemies (where shee trusted more to Anaxius va∣lour, then Basilius promise) that he would conuey them safely out of those territories Her reasons something moued him, but nothinge thoroughly perswaded him, but the last request of his helpe: which he streight promised, warranting all securitie, as long as that sword had his master aliue. She as happy therein as vnhappines coulde [ 20] be (hauing receiued as small comfort of her owne surgeons as of the others) caused yet the body to bee easily conueyed into the litter: all the people then beginning to roare and crie, as though neuer till then they had lost their Lord. And if the terrour of Anaxius had not kept them vnder, they would haue mutinied, rather then suffered his bodie to be caried away.

[ 25] But Anaxius him selfe riding before the litter, with the choyce men of that place•• they were affraid euen to crie, though they were ready to crie for feare: but (because that they might doo) euery bodie forced (euen with harming themselues) to doo honour to him: some throwing themselues vpon the grounde; some tearing their clothes, and casting duste vpon their heades, and some euen woundring themselues [ 30] and sprinkling their owne bloud in the aire.

The generall consort of whose mourning, perfourmed so the naturall tunes of sorrow; that euen to them (if any such were) that felt not the losse, yet others griefe taught them grief; hauing before their compassionate sense so passionate a spectacle, of a young man, of great beautie, beautified with great honour, honoured by great [ 35] valure, made of inestimable value, by the noble vsing of it, to lye there languishing, vnder the arrest of death, and a death, where the manner could be no comfort to the discomfortablenes of the matter. But when the bodie was carried through the gate, and the people (sauing such as were appointed) not suffred to goe further, then was such an vniuersall crie, as if they had all had but one life, and all receaued but [ 40] one below.

Which so moued Anaxius to consider the losse of his friend, that (his mind apter to reuenge, then tendernesse) hee presently giuing order to his brother to keepe the prisoners safe, and vnuisited, till his retourne from conueying Helen hee sent a messenger to the sisters, to tell them this curteous message: that at his retourne with [ 45] his owne handes; hee woulde cut off their heades, and sende them for tokens to their father.

This message was brought vnto the sisters, as they sate at that time together with

Zelmane, conferring how to carrie themselues, hauing heard of the death of Amphi∣alus. And as no expectation of death is so paineful, as where the resolution is hindred by the intermixing of hopes, so did this new alarum, though not remoue, yet moue somwhat the constancy of their mindes, which were so vnconstantly dealt with. But within a while, the excellent Pamela had brought her minde againe to his olde [ 5] acquaintance: and then, as carefull for her sister (whom most deerely she loued) Sist∣er (saide shee) you see how many acts our Tragedy hath: Fortune is not yet a wearie of vexing vs: but what? A shippe is not counted strong for byding one storme? It is but the same trumpet of death, which now perhaps giues the last sounde: and let vs make that profite of our former miseries, that in them wee learned to dye willingly. [ 10] Truely saide Philoclea, deare sister, I was so beaten with the euils of life, that though I had not vertue enough to despise the sweetnesse of it, yet my weaknesse bredde that strength, to be wearie of the paines of it: onely I must confesse, that little hope, which by these late accidents was awaked in me, was at the first angrie withall. But euen in the darkenesse of that horrour, I see a light of comfort appeare; and how can [ 15] I treade amisse, that see Pamela steppes? I would onely (O that my wish might take place) that my schoole-Mistres might liue, to see mee say my lesson truely. Were that a life, my Philoclea? said Pamela. No, no, (saide shee) let it come, and put on his worst face: for at the worst it is but a bug-beare. Ioy is it to me to see you so well re∣solued; and since the world will not haue vs, let it lose vs. Onely (with that she stay∣ed [ 20] a little, and sighed) only my Philoclea, (then she bowed downe, and whispered in her eare) onely Musidorus, my shepheard, comes betwene me and death, and makes me thinke I should not dye, because I know he would not I shoulde dye. With that Philoclea sighed also, saying no more, but looking vpon Zelmane: who was walking vp and downe the chamber, hauing heard this message from Anaxius, and hauing [ 25] in times past heard of his nature, thought him like enough to performe it, which winded her againe into the former maze of perplexitie. Yet debating with her selfe of the manner how to preuent it, she continued her musing humour, little saying, or indeede, little finding in her hart to say, in a case of such extremitie, where peremp∣torily death was threatned: and so stayed they; hauing yet that comfort, that they [ 30] might tarrie togither. Pamela nobly, Philoclea sweetely, and Zelmane sadly, and des∣perately none of them entertaining sleep, which they thought should shortly begin neuer to awake.

But Anaxius came home, hauing safely conduct Helen and safely hee might well do it: For though many of Basilius Knights would haue attempted something [ 35] vpon Anaxius, by that meanes to deliuer the Ladies; yet Philanax, hauing receaued his masters commandement, and knowing his word was giuen, would not consent vnto it. And the black-Knight (who by them was able to carry abroad his wounds) did not knowe thereof; but was bringing force, by force to deliuer his Lady. So as Anaxius, interpreting it rather feare, then faith, and making euen chance an argu∣ment [ 40] of his vertue, returned: and as soone as hee was returned, with afelon hart cal∣ling his brothers vp with him, he went into the chamber, where they were all three togither; with full intention to kill the sisters with his owne handes, and sende their heads for tokens to their father: Though his brothers (who were otherwise encli∣ned) disswaded him: but his reuerence stayed their perswasions. But when hee was [ 45] come into the chamber, with the very wordes of cholerike threatning climing vp his throate, his eyes first lighted vpon Pamela; who hearing hee was comming, and

looking for death, thought she would keepe her owne maiestie in welcomming it; but the beames therof so strake his eyes, with such a counterbuffe vnto his pride, that if his anger could not so quickly loue, nor his pride so easily honor, yet both were forced to finde a worthinesse.

[ 5] Which while it bred a pause in him, Zelmane (who had ready in her minde both what and how to say) stept out vnto him, and with a resolute stayednes (void either of anger, kindnes, disdaine, or humblenesse) speake in this sort. Anaxius (said she) if Fame haue not bene ouerpartiall to thee, thou art a man of exceeding valour. Therefore I doo call thee euen before that vertue, & will make it the iudge between [ 10] vs. And now I doo affirme, that to the eternall blot of all the faire actes that thou hast done, thou doest weakely, in seeking without daunger to reuenge his death, whose life with daunger thou mightst perhapes haue preserued: thou doost cowardly, in going about by the death of these excellent Ladies, to preuent the iust punishment that hereafter they by the powers, which they better then their father, or any other [ 15] could make, might lay vpon thee; and doost most basely, in once presenting thy selfe as an executioner; a vile office vpon men, and in a iust cause: beyond the degree of any vile worde, in so vniust a cause, and vpon Ladies, and such Ladies. And there∣fore, as a hangman. I say, thou art vnworthy to be counted a knight, or to be admit∣ted into the companie of Knights. Neither for what, I say, will I alleadge other rea∣sons, [ 20] of wisdome, or iustice, to prooue my speech, because I knowe thou doost dis∣daine to be tied to their rules: but euen in thine own vertue (whereof thou so much gloriest) I will make my triall: and therfore defie thee, by the death of one of vs two to proue, or disproue these reproaches. Choose thee what armes thou likest, I one∣ly demaund, that these Ladies (whome I defende) may in liberty see the combate.

[ 25] When Zelmane began her speech, the excellency of her beautie, and grace, made him a little content to heare. Besides that, a new lesson he had read in Pamela had al∣ready taught him some regard. But when shee entered into brauerie of speech, hee thought at first, a mad, and railing humor possest her; till, finding the speeches hold well together, and at length come to flatte challenge of combat; hee stoode leaning [ 30] backe with his bodie and head, sometimes with bent browes looking vpon the one side of her, sometimes of the other, beyonde maruell maruailing, that hee, who had neuer heard such speeches from any Knight, shoulde be thus rebuffed by a woman; and that maruell made him heare out her speech: which ended, he turned his head to his brother Zoilus, and said nothing, but onely lifting vp his eyes, smiled. But Zel∣mane [ 35] finding his minde, Anaxius (said she) perchaunce thou disdaynest to answere me because, as a woman, thou thinkest me not fitte to bee fought with all. But I tell thee, that I haue beene trayned vp in martiall matters, with so good successe, that I haue many times ouercome brauer Knightes then thy selfe: and am wel knowen to be equall in feates of armes, to the famous Pyrocles, who slewe thy valiaunt Vncle, [ 40] the Giant Euardes. The remembraunce of his Vncles death some••hing netled him, so as he answered thus.

Indeed (saide he) any woman may bee as valiaunt as that coward, and traytorly boy, who slewe my Vncle trayterously, and after ranne from me in the plaine field. Fiue thousand such could not haue ouercome Euardes, but by falshood. But I sought [ 45] him all ouer Asia, following him stil from one of his cony-holes to another: till com∣ming into this Countrie, I heard of my friends being besieged, and so came to blow away the wretches that troubled him. But wheresoeuer the miserable boy flie, hea∣uen,

nor hell, shall keepe his harte from being torne by these handes. Thou lyest in thy throate (said Zelmane) that boye, where euer he went, did so noble actes, as thy harte (as proude as it is) dares not think of, much lesse perfourme. But to please thee the better with my presence, I tell thee, no creature can be neerer of kinne to him, then my selfe: and so well we loue, that he woulde not be sorrier for his owne death [ 5] then for mine: I being begotten by his father, of an Amazon Ladie. And therefore, thou canst not deuise to reuenge thy self more vpon him, then by killing me: which if thou darest doo manfullie, doo it; otherwise, if thou harme these incomparable Ladies, or my felfe without daring to fight with me, I protest before these Knights, and before heauen and earth, (that will reueile thy shame) that thou art the begger∣liest [ 10] dastardly villaine, that dishonoureth the earth with his steppes: and if thou let∣test me ouer-liue them, so will I blaze thee. But all this coulde not moue Anaxius, but that he onely said, Euill should it become the terror of the world, to fight, much worse to skolde with thee.

But (said he) for the death of these same (pointing to the Princesses) of my grace, [ 15] I giue them life. And withall, going to Pamela, and offring to take her by the chin, And as for you, Minion (saide hee) yeeld but gently to my will, and you shall not onely liue, but liue so happily, Hee would haue said further, when Pamela, displea∣sed both with wordes, matter, and maner, putting him awaye with her faire hande, Proud beast (said shee) yet thou plaiest worse thy Comedy, then thy Tragedy. For [ 20] my part, assure thy selfe, since my destiny is such, that at each moment my life and death stand in equall balance, I had rather haue thee, and thinke thee far fitter to be my hangman, then my husband. Pride and anger, woulde faine haue cruelly reuen∣ged so bitter an answere, but alredy Cupid had begun to make it his sport, to pull his plumes: so that, vnused to a waye of courtesie, and put out of his byas of pride, hee [ 25] hastily went away, grumbling to himselfe; betweene threatning and wishing; lea∣uing his brothers with them: the elder of whom, Lycurgus, liked Philoclea, and Zoi∣lus would needes loue Zelmane; or at lest, entertaine themselues with making them beleue so. Lycurgus more braggard, and neere his brothers humor, began, with set∣ting foorth their bloud, their deedes, howe many they had despised, of most excel∣lent [ 30] women; how much they were bound to them, that woulde seeke that of them. In summe, in all his speeches, more like the bestower, then the desirer of felicitie. Whom it was an excellent pastime (to those that woulde delight in the play of ver∣tue) to see, with what a wittie ignorance shee woulde not vnderstande: and howe: acknowledging his perfections, shee woulde make, that one of his perfections, not [ 35] to be iniurious to Ladies. But when he knew not how to replie, then would hee fall to touching and toying, stil vewing his graces in no glasse but self-liking. To which, Philocleas shamefastnes, and humblenes, were as strong resisters, as choller, and dis∣daine. For though she yeelded not, hee thought she was to bee ouercome: and that thought a while stayed him from further violence. But Zelmane had eye to his beha∣uiour, [ 40] and set in her memorie, vpon the score of Reuenge, while shee her selfe was no lesse attempted by Zoilus; who lesse ful of bragges was forwardest in offering (in∣deede) dishonourable violence.

But when after their fruitlesse labours they had gone awaye called by their bro∣ther, (who began to be perplexed betweene new conceaued desires, and disdaine, [ 45] to bee disdained) Zelmane (who with most assured quietnesse of iudgement

looked into their present estate) earnestly perswaded the two sisters, that to auoide the mischiefes of prowde outrage they would onely so farre sute their behauiour to their estates, as they might winne time; which as it coulde not bring them to worse case then they were, so it might bring forth inexpected reliefe. And why (said Pa∣mela) [ 5] shall we any longer flatter aduersity? Why shoulde wee delight to make our selues any longer balls to iniurious Fortune since our owne parents are content to be tyraunts ouer vs, since our own kinne are content traitorously to abuse vs? Certain∣ly, in mishap it may bee some comforte to vs, that wee are lighted in these fellowes handes, who yet will keepe vs from hauing cause of being miserable by our friends [ 10] meanes. Nothing grieues me more, then that you, noble Ladie Zelmane (to whome the worlde might haue made vs able to doo honour) shoulde receaue onely hurte by the contagion of our miserie. As for me, and my sister, vndoubtedly it becomes our birth to thinke of dying nobly, while we haue done, or suffered nothing, which might make our soule ashamed at the parture from these bodies. Hope is the faw∣ning [ 15] traitour of the mind, while vnder colour of friendship, it robbes it of his chiefe" force of resolution. Vertuous and faire Ladie (saide Zelmane) what you say is true; and that truth may wel make vp a part in the harmonie of your noble thoughts. But yet the time (which ought alwaies to bee one) is not tuned for it; while that may" bring foorth any good, doo not barre your selfe thereof: for then will bee the time [ 20] to die nobly, when you can not liue nobly. Then so earnestly shee persuaded with" them both, to referre themselues to their fathers consent (in obtayning wherof they knew some while would bespent) and by that meanes to temper the minds of their prowde woers; that in the ende Pamela yeelded to her, because she spake reason; and Philoclea yeelded to her reason, because she spake it.

[ 25] And so when they were againe sollicited in that little pleasing petition, Pamela forced her selfe to make answere to Anaxius, that if her father gaue his consent shee would make her selfe belieue, that such was the heauenly determination, since shee had no meanes to auoide it. Anaxius (who was the most franke promiser to him selfe of successe) nothing doubted of Basilius consent, but rather assured him selfe, he [ 30] would bee his oratour in that matter: And therefore hee chose out an officious ser∣uaunt (whome he esteemed very wise, because hee neuer found him but iust of his opinion) and willed him to be his embassadour to Basilius, and to make him knowe, that if he meant to haue his daughter both safe and happie, and desired himselfe to haue such a sonne in lawe, as woulde not onely protect him in his quiet course, but [ 35] (if he listed to accept it) would giue him the monarchy of the worlde, that then he should receaue Anaxius, who neuer before knewe what it was to pray any thinge. That if he did not, he would make him know, that the power of Anaxius was in eue∣ry thing beyonde his will, and yet his will not to be resisted by any other power. His seruaunt with smiling and caste-vp looke, desired God to make his memorie able to [ 40] containe the treasure of that wise speach: and therefore besought him to repeate it a∣gaine, that by the oftener hearing it, his minde might be the better acquainted with the diuines thereof, and that being gratiously granted, hee then doubted not by ca∣rying with him in his conceit, the grace wherewith Anaxius spake it, to persuade rocky minds to their owne harme: so little doubted he to win Basilius to that, which [ 45] hee thought woulde make him thinke the heauens opened, when he harde but the proffer thereof. Anaxius grauely allowed the probabilitie of his coniecture, and therefore sent him away, promising him hee shoulde haue the bringing vp of his se∣cond

sonne by Pamela.

The messenger with speede perfourmed his Lords commaundement to Basilius, who by nature quiet, and by superstition made doubtfull, was lothe to take any matter of armes in hande, wherein already hee had found so slowe successe; though Philanax vehemently vrged him thereunto, making him see that his retiring backe [ 5] did encourage iniuries. But Basilius betwixt the feare of Anaxius might, the passion of his loue and iealousie of his estate, was so perplexed, that notable to determine, he tooke the common course of men, to flie onely then to deuotion, when they want resolution: therefore detaining the messenger with delaies, hee deferred the directing of his course to the counsell of Apollo, which because himselfe at that time [ 10] coulde not well go to require, hee entrusted the matter to his best trusted Philanax: who (as one in whom obedience was a sufficient reason vnto him) wente with di∣ligence to Delphos, where being entred into the secrete place of the temple, and ha∣uing performed the sacrifices vsuall, the spirite that possest the prohesying woman, with a sacred fury, attended not his demaund, but as if it would argue him of incre∣dulitie, [ 15] tolde him, not in darke wonted speeches, but plainely to bee vnderstood, what he came for, and that hee should returne to Basilius, and will him to denie his daughters to Anaxius and his brothers, for that they were reserued for such as were better beloued of the gods. That he should not doubte, for they should returne vn∣to him safely and speedily. And that he should keepe on his solitary course, til both [ 20] "Philanax & Basilius fully agreed in the vnderstanding of the former prophecie: with∣all, commaunding Philanax from thenceforward to giue tribute, but not oblation, to humane wisedome.

"Philanax then finding that reason cannot shewe it selfe more reasonable, then to leaue reasoning in things aboue reason, returnes to his Lorde, and like one that pre∣ferred [ 25] trueth before the maintaining of an opinion, hidde nothing from him, nor from thence foorth durste any more disswade him, from that which he founde by the celestiall prouidence directed; but hee him selfe looking to repayre the gouern∣ment as much as in so broken an estate by ciuill dissention hee might, and fortifying with notable arte, both the lodges, so as they were almost made vnaprochable, hee [ 30] lefte Basilius to bemone the absence of his daughters, and to bewayle the imprison∣ment of Zelmane: yet wholly giuen holily to obey the Oracle, he gaue a resolute ne∣gatiue vnto the messenger of Anaxius, who all this while had waited for it, yet in good termes desiring him to shewe him selfe, in respect of his birth and profession, so Princely a Knight, as without forcing him to seeke the waye of force, to deliuer [ 35] in noble sorte those Ladies vnto him, and so should the iniurie haue bene in Amphi∣alus, and the benefite in him.

The messenger went backe with this answere, yet hauing euer vsed to sugre any thing which his Maister was to receaue, he tolde him, that when Basilius first vnder∣stood his desires, he did ouerreach so farre all his most hopefull expectations, that [ 40] he thought it were too great a boldnesse to harken to such a man, in whome the hea∣uens had such interest, without asking the Gods counsell, and therefore had sent his principall counsailour to Delphos, who although he kepte the matter neuer so se∣crete, yet his diligence, inspired by Anaxius priuiledge ouer all worldly thinges, had founde out the secrete, which was, that hee shoulde not presume to marrie his [ 45] daughters, to one who already was enrolled among the demie-Gods, and yet much lesse he should dare the attempting to take them out of his hands.

Anaxius, who till then had made Fortune his creator, and Force his God, nowe began to finde an other wisedome to be aboue, that iudged so rightly of him: and where in this time of his seruauntes wayting for Basilius resolution, he and his brothers had courted their Ladies, as whome they vouchsafed to haue for their [ 5] wiues, he resolued now to dally no longer in delayes, but to make violence his Oratour, since hee had found persuasions had gotten nothing but answeres. Which intention he opened to his brothers, who hauing all this while wanted nothing to take that way, but his authoritie, gaue spurres to his running, and, vn∣worthy men, neither feeling vertue in themselues, nor tendring it in others, they [ 10] were headlong to make that euill consort of loue and force, when Anaxius had worde, that from the Tower there were descried some companies of armed men, marching towards the towne; wherefore he gaue present order to his seruauntes, and souldiers, to goe to the gates and walles, leauing none within but himselfe, and his brothers: his thoughts then so full of their intended pray, that Mars-his [ 15] lowdest trumpet could scarcely haue awaked him.

But while he was directing what he would haue done, his yongest brother Zoilus, glad that he had the commission, went in the name of Anaxius, to tell the sisters, that since he had answere from their father, that he and his brother Licurgus, should haue them in what sort it pleased them, that they would now graunt them [ 20] no longer time, but presently to determine, whether they thought it more hono∣rable comfort to be compelled, or perswaded. Pamela made him answere, that in a matter whereon the whole state of her life depended, and wherein she had euer an∣swered, she would not lead, but follow her parents pleasure; she thought it reason she should, either by letter, or particular messenger vnderstand somthing from thē∣selues, [ 25] & not haue her beleef bound to the report of their partiall seruant, and ther∣fore, as to their words, she & her sister, had euer a simple & true resolution, so against their vniust force, God, they hoped, would either arme their liues, or take away their liues. Well Ladies (said he) I will leaue my brothers, who by and by will come vn∣to you, to be their owne embassadors, for my part, I must now do my selfe seruice. [ 30] And with that turning vp his mustachoes, and marching as if he would begin a pa∣uen, ••e went toward Zelmane. But Zelmane (hauing had all this while of the messen∣gers being with Basilius, much to do to keepe those excellent Ladies from seeking by the pasport of death, to escape those base dangers wherevnto they found them∣selues subiect) still hoping that Musidorus would finde some meanes to deliuer thē; [ 35] and therefore had often both by her owne example, and comfortable reasons, per∣swaded them to ouerpasse many insolent indignities of their proud suters, who thought it was a sufficient fauour not to do the vttermost iniurie, now come againe to the streight she most feared for them, either of death or dishonor, if heroicall courage would haue let her, she had bene beyonde herselfe amazed: but that yet [ 40] held vp her wit, to attend the vttermost occasion, which euen then brought his hairie forehead vnto her: for Zoilus smacking his lippes, as for the Prologue of a kisse, and something aduancing himselfe, Darling (said he) let thy hart be full of ioy, and let thy faire eies be of counsell with it, for this day thou shalt haue Zoilus, whom many haue lōged for; but none shall haue him, but Zelmane. And oh, how [ 45] much glory I haue to think what a race wil be betwne vs. The world, by the heauēs, the world will be too little for them: And with that, he would haue put his arme about her necke, but she, withdrawing her selfe from him, My Lord (said she)

much good may your thoughts do you, but that I may not dissemble with you, my natiuitie being cast by one that neuer failed in any of his prognostications, I haue bene assured, that I should neuer be apt to beare children. But since you will honor me with so hie fauor, I must onely desire that I may performe a vow which I made among my countriwomen, the famous Amazons, that I would neuer marrie [ 5] none, but such one as was able to withstand me in Armes: therefore, before I make mine owne desire seruiceable to yours, you must vouchsafe to lend me armor and weapons, that at least, with a blow or two of the sword, I may not finde my selfe periured to my selfe. But Zoilus (but laughing with a hartie lowdnes) went by force to embrace her; making no other answere, but since she had a mind to trie his [ 10] Knighthood, she should quickly know what a man of armes he was: and so, with∣out reuerence to the Ladies, began to struggle with her.

But in Zelmane then Disdaine became wisdome, and Anger gaue occasion. For abiding no longer aboad in the matter, she that had not put off, though she had dis∣guised, Pyrocles, being farre fuller of strong nimblenes, tript vp his feete, so that he [ 15] fell downe at hers. And withall (meaning to pursue what she had begun) puld out his sword, which he ware about him: but before she could strike him withall, he gat vp, and ranne to a faire chamber, where he had left his two brethren, preparing themselues to come downe to their mistresses. But she followed at his heeles, and euen as he came to throw himselfe into their armes for succor, she hit him with his [ 20] owne sword, such a blow vpon the waste, that she almost cut him asunder: once, she sundred his soule from his body, sending it to Proserpina, an angry Goddesse against rauishers. But Anaxius, seing before his eyes the miserable end of his brother, fuller of despite then wrath, and yet fuller of wrath then sorow, looking with a wofull eye vpon his brother Lycurgus, Brother, said he, chastice this vile creature, while I [ 25] go downe, and take order lest further mischiefe arise: and so went downe to the Ladies, whom he visited, doubting there had bene some further practise then yet he conceiued. But finding them only strong in pacience, he went and lockt a great Iron gate, by which onely any body might mount to that part of the Castle, rather to conceale the shame of his brother, slaine by a woman, then for doubt of any o∣ther [ 30] anoyance, and then went vp to receaue some comfort of the execution, he was sure his brother had done of Zelmane. But Zelmane no sooner saw those brothers, of whom Reason assured her she was to expect reuenge, but that she lept to a target, "as one that well knew the first marke of valure to be defence. And then accepting the oportunitie of Anaxius going away, she waited not the pleasure of Lycurgus, but [ 35] without any words (which she euer thought vaine, when resolution tooke the place of perswasion) gaue her owne hart the contentment to be the assailer. Lycur∣gus, who was in the disposition of his nature hazardouse, and by the luckie passing through many dangers, growne confident in himselfe, went toward her, rather as to a spoile, then to fight, so farre from feare, that his assurednesse disdained to hope. [ 40] But when her sword made demonstrations aboue all flattery of arguments, and that he found she prest so vpon him, as shewed that her courage sprang not from blinde despaire, but was garded both with cunning and strength: self-loue then first in him diuided it selfe from vain-glory, and made him finde that the world of worthines had not this whole globe comprised in his brest, but that it was neces∣sarie [ 45] to haue strong resistance against so strong assailing. And so between them, for a fewe blowes, Mars himselfe might haue bin delighted to looke on. But Zelmane,

who knew that in her case, slownesse of victory was little better then ruine, with the bellowes of hate, blew the fire of courage, and he striking a maine blow at her head, she warded it with the shield, but so warded, that the shield was cut in two pieces, while it protected her, and withal she ran in to him, and thrusting at his brest, which [ 5] he put by with his target, as he was lifting vp his sword to strike againe, she let fall the piece of her shield, and with her left hand catching his sword of the inside of the pommell, with nimble and strong sleight, she had gotten his sword out of his hand before his sence could conuey to his imagination, what was to be doubted. And hauing now two swords against one shield, meaning not foolishly to be vn∣gratefull [ 10] to good fortune, while he was no more amazed with his being vnweap∣ned, then with the suddainnes therof, she gaue him such a wound vpon his head, in despite of the shields ouer-weake resistāce, that withall he fell to the ground, astoni∣shed with the paine, & agast with feare. But seing Zelmane ready to conclude her vi∣ctory in his death, bowing vp his head to her, with a countenance that had forgot∣ten [ 15] all pride, Enough excellent Lady, said he, the honor is yours: Wherof you shal want the best witnes, if you kil me. As you haue taken from men the glory of man∣hood, returne so now againe to your owne sex, for mercy. I will redeeme my life of you with no small seruices, for I will vndertake to make my brother obey all your commādements. Grant life I beseech you, for your own honor, and for the persons [ 20] sake that you loue best. Zelmane represt a while her great hart, either disdaining to be cruell, or pitiful, & therfore not cruel: & now the image of humane condition, begā to be an Orator vnto her of compassiō, whē she saw, as he lifted vp his armes with a suppliāts grace, about one of thē, vnhappily tied, a garter with a Iewel, which (giuē to Pyrocles by his aunt of Thessalia, & greatly esteemed by him) he had presented to [ 25] Philoclea, & with inward rage promising extreame hatred, had seene Lycurgus with a proud force, & not without some hurt vnto her, pull away from Philoclea, because at entreatie she would not giue it him. But the sight of that was like a cyphar, signify∣ing all the iniuries which Philoclea had of him suffred, & that remēbrāce feeding vpō wrath, trod down al cōceits of mercy. And therfore saying no more, but No villain, [ 30] dye: It is Philoclea that sends thee this token for thy loue. With that she made her sword drink the blood of his hart, though he wresting his body, & with a counte∣nance prepared to excuse, wold faine haue delaied the receiuing of deaths embassa∣dors. But neither that staied Zelmanes hand, nor yet Anaxius crie vnto her, who ha∣uing made fast the iron gate, euen then came to the top of the staires, when, contra∣rie [ 35] to all his imaginations, he saw his brother lye at Zelmanes mercie. Therefore cry∣ing, promising, and threatning to her to hold her hand: the last grone of his brother was the onely answere he could get to his vnrespected eloquence. But then Pittie would faine haue drawne teares, which Furie in their spring dried; and Anger would faine haue spoken, but that Disdaine sealed vp his lippes; but in his heart he [ 40] blasphemed heauen, that it could haue such a power ouer him; no lesse ashamed of the victorie he should haue of her, then of his brothers ouerthrow: and no more spited, that it was yet vnreuenged, then that the reuenge should be no greater, then a womans destruction. Therefore with no speach, but such a groning crie, as often is the language of sorowfull anger, he came running at Zelmane, vse of figh∣ting [ 45] then seruing in steed of patient consideration what to do. Guided wherewith, though he did not with knowledge, yet did he according to knowledge, pressing vpon Zelmane in such a well defended manner, that in all the combats that euer

she had fought, she had neuer more neede of quicke senses, and ready vertue. For being one of the greatest men of stature then liuing, as he did fully answere that sta∣ture in greatnesse of might, so did he exceede both in greatnes of courage, which with a countenance formed by the nature both of his mind and body, to an almost horrible fiercenes, was able to haue carried feare to any minde, that was not priuie [ 5] to it selfe of a true and constant worthines. But Pyrocles, whose soule might well be separated from his body, but neuer alienated from the remembring what was comely, if at the first he did a little apprehend the dangerousnes of his aduersarie, whom once before he had something tried, and now perfectly sawe, as the very picture of forcible furie: yet was that apprehension quickly stayed in him, rather [ 10] strengthning, then weakning his vertue by that wrestling; like wine, growing the stronger by being moued. So that they both, prepared in harts, and able in hands, did honor solitarines there with such a combat, as might haue demaunded, as a right of fortune, whole armies of beholders. But no beholders needed there, where manhood blew the trumpet, and satisfaction did whet, as much as glorie. There [ 15] was strength against nimblenes; rage, against resolution; fury, against vertue; con∣fidence, against courage; pride, against noblenesse: loue, in both, breeding mu∣tuall hatred, and desire of reuenging the iniurie of his brothers slaughter, to A∣naxius, being like Philocleas captiuity to Pyrocles. Who had seene the one, would haue thought nothing could haue resisted; who had marked the other, would haue [ 20] marueiled that the other had so long resisted. But like two contrarie tides, either of which are able to carry worlds of shippes, and men vpon them, with such swiftnes, as nothing seemes able to withstand them: yet meeting one another, with ming∣ling their watrie forces, and strugling together, it is long to say whether streame gets the victorie: So betweene these, if Pallas had bene there, she could scarcely [ 25] haue tolde, whether she had nurced better in the feates of armes. The Irish grey∣hound, against the English mastiffe; the sword-fish, against the whale; the Rhino∣ceros, against the elephant, might be models, and but models of this combat. A∣naxius was better armed defensiuely: for (beside a strong caske brauely couered, wherewith he couered his head) he had a huge shield, such perchance, as Achilles [ 30] shewed to the pale walles of Troy, wherewithall that great body was couered. But Pyrocles, vtterly vnarmed for defence, to offend had the aduantage: for, in ei∣ther hand he had a sword, and with both handes nimbly performed that office. And according as they were diuersly furnished, so did they differ in the manner of fighting. For Anaxius most by warding, and Pyrocles oftnest by auoyding, resisted [ 35] the aduersaries assault. Both hastie to end, yet both often staying for aduantage. Time, distance, and motion, custom made them so perfect in, that as if they had bene felow Counsellers, and not enemies, each knew the others minde, and knewe how to preuent it. So as their strength fayled them sooner then their skill, and yet their breath fayled them sooner then their strength. And breathles indeed they [ 40] grew, before either could complaine of any losse of bloud.

So that consenting by the mediation of necessitie, to a breathing time of truce, being withdrawen a little one frō the other; Anaxius stood leaning vpon his sword, with his grim eye, so setled vpon Zelmane, as is wont to be the looke of an earnest thought. Which Zelmane marking, and, according to the Pyroclean nature, fuller of [ 45] gay brauerie in the midst, then in the beginning of danger; What is it (said she) Anaxius, that thou so deeply musest on? Dooth thy brothers example make thee

thinke of thy fault past, or of thy comming punishment? I thinke (said he) what spitefull God it should be, who, enuying my glory, hath brought me to such a way∣ward case, that neither thy death can be a reuenge, nor thy ouerthrow a victorie. Thou doost well indeed (said Zelmane) to impute thy case to the heauenly proui∣dence, [ 5] which will haue thy pride finde it selfe (euen in that whereof thou art most proud) punished by the weake sex, which thou most contemnest.

But then, hauing sufficiently rested themselues, they renewed againe their com∣batte, farre more terribly then before: like nimble vaulters, who at the first and se∣cond leape, doo but stirre, and (as it were) awake the fierie and aërie partes, which [ 10] after in the other leapes, they doo with more excellencie exercise. For in this pau∣sing, ech had brought to his thoughts the maner of the others fighting, and the ad∣uantages, which by that, and by the qualitie of their weapons, they might worke themselues; and so againe repeated the lesson they had said before, more perfectly, by the vsing of it. Anaxius oftner vsed blowes, his huge force (as it were) more [ 15] delighting therein, and the large protection of his shield, animating him vnto it. Pyrocles, of a more fine, and deliuer strength, watching his time when to giue fitte thrustes; as, with the quick obeying of his bodie, to his eyes quicke commaunde∣ment, he shunned any harme Anaxius could do to him: so would he soone haue made an end of Anaxius, if he had not found him a man of wonderfull, and almost [ 20] matchlesse excellency in matters of armes. Pyrocles vsed diuers faynings to bring A∣naxius on, into some inconuenience. But Anaxius keeping a sound maner of figh∣ting, neuer offered, but seeing faire cause, and then followed it with wel-gouerned violence. Thus spent they a great time, striuing to doo, and with striuing to doo, wearying themselues, more then with the very doing. Anaxius finding Zelmane so [ 25] neere vnto him, that with little motion he might reach her, knitting all his strength together, at that time mainly foyned at her face. But Zelmane strongly putting it by with her right hand sword, comming in with her left foote, and hand, would haue giuen a sharpe visitation to his right side, but that he was faine to leape awaye. Whereat ashamed, (as hauing neuer done so much before in his life.)

[ 30] How this combate ended, how the Ladies by the comming of the discouered forces were deliue∣red, and restored to Basilius, and how Dorus againe returned to his old master Da∣maetas, is altogether vnknowne. What a••terward chaunced, out of the Authors owne writings and conceits hath bene supplied, as foloweth.

[ 35] AFter that Basilius (according to the oracles promise) had receiued home his daughters, and settled himselfe againe in his solitary course and accustomed company, there passed not many dayes ere the now fully recomforted Dorus hauing waited a time of Zelmanes walking alone towards her little Arbor, tooke leaue of his master Damaetas husbandry to follow her. Neere whervnto ouertaking [ 40] her, and sitting downe together among the sweet flowers whereof that place was very plentifull, vnder the pleasant shade of a broad leaued Sycamor, they recounted one to another their strange pilgrimage of passions, omitting nothing which the open harted frendship is wont to lay forth, where there is cause to cōmunicate both ioyes & sorows, for indeed ther is no sweeter tast of frendship, then the coupling of [ 45] soules in this mutualitie either of condoling or comforting: where the oppressed minde findes itself not altogether miserable, since it is sure of one which is feelingly sory for his misery: and the ioyfull spends not his ioy, either alone, or there where

it may be enuyed: but may freely send it to such a well grounded obiect, from whence he shall be sure to receiue a sweete reflection of the same ioye, and, as in a cleere mirror of sincere good will, see a liuely picture of his owne gladnes. But af∣ter much discourse on eyther parte, Dorus (his hearte scarce seruing him to come to the pointe, wherevnto his then comming had bene wholie directed, as loth [ 5] in the kindest sorte to discouer to his friend his owne vnkindnes) at length, one word emboldening another made knowne to Zelmane, how Pamela vpon his ve∣hement othe to offer no force vnto her, till hee had inuested her in the Duchie of Thessalia, had condiscended to his stealing her awaie to the next sea porte. That besides the straunge humors she sawe her father more and more falling into, [ 10] and vnreasonable restraint of her libertie, whereof she knewe no cause but light grounded iealosies, added to the hate of that manner of life, and confidence she had in his vertue, the chiefest reason had wonne her to this, was the late daun∣ger she stoode in of loosing him, the like whereof (not vnlike to fall if this course were continued) she chose rather to dye then againe to vndergoe. That now they [ 15] wayted for nothing else, but some fit time for their escape, by the absence of their three lothsome companions, in whome follie ingendred suspicion. And there∣fore now, sayd Dorus, my deere Cozen, to whome nature began my friendship, education confirmed it, and vertue hath made it eternall, heere haue I discoue∣••ed the very foundacion wherevpon my life is built: bee you the Iudge betwixt [ 20] mee a••d my fortune. The violence of loue is not vnknowne to you: And I knowe m•• case shall neuer want pittie in your consideration. How all the ioyes of my hearte doo leaue mee, in thinking I must for a time be absent from you, the eternall truth is witnesse vnto mee, I knowe I should not so sensiblie feele the pangs of my last departure. But this enchantment of my restlesse desire [ 25] hath such authoritye in my selfe aboue my selfe, that I am become a slaue vnto it, I haue no more freedome in mine owne determinacions. My thoughtes are now all bent how to carrie awaie my burdenous blisse. Yet, most beloued Co∣zen, rather then I should thinke I doo heerein violate that holie bande of true friendship, wherein I vnworthie am knit vnto you, commaund mee stay. Per∣chaunce [ 30] the force of your commaundement may worke such impression into my hearte, that no reason of mine owne can imprint into it. For the Gods forbid, the foule word of abandoning Pyrocles, might euer be obiected to the faithfull Musidorus. But if you can spare my presence, whose presence no way serues you, and by the diuision of these two Lodges is not oft with you: nay if you [ 35] can thinke my absence may, as it shall, stand you in stead, by bringing such an ar∣mye hither, as shall make Basilius, willing or vnwilling, to knowe his owne happe in graunting you Philoclea: then I will cheerefullie goe about this my most desired enterprise, and shall thinke the better halfe of it alreadie atchieued, beeing be∣gunne in the fortunate houre of my friendes contentment. These wordes, as [ 40] they were not knitte together with such a constant course of flowing eloquence, as Dorus was woont to vse: so was his voice interrupted with sighes, and his countenaunce with enterchanging coulour dismayed. So much his owne hearte did finde him faultie to vnbende any way the continuall vse of theyr deare friendshippe. But Zelmane, who had all this while gladlie hearkened to the other [ 45] tydings of her friends happye successe, when this last determination of Dorus strake her attentiue eares, she stayed a great while oppressed with a dead amazement.

Ther came streight before her mind, made tender with woes, the images of her own fortune. Her tedious longings, her causes to despaire, the combersome follie of Ba∣silius, the enraged Iealousie of Gynecia, her selfe a Prince without retinewe; a man annoyed with the troubles of woman-kinde; lothsomely loued, and daungerouslie [ 5] louing; And now for the perfecting of all, her friend to be taken away by himself, to make the losse the greater by the vnkindnes. But within a while she resolutely passed ouer all in warde obiections, and preferring her friends proffitt to her owne desire, with a quiet but hartie looke, she thus aunsweared him. If I bare thee this Loue ver∣tuous Musidorus, for mine owne sake, and that our friendshipp grew because I for [ 10] my parte, might reioyce to enioye such a friend: I shoulde nowe so thorowly feele mine owne losse, that I should call the heauens and earth to witnesse, howe cruelly yee robbe mee, of my greatest comforte, measuring the breach of friendshippe by myne owne passion. But because indeede I loue thee for thy selfe, and in my iudge∣ment iudge of thy worthines to beloued, I am content to builde my pleasure vppon [ 15] thy comforte: And then will I deeme my happe in friendshippe great, when I shall see thee, whome I loue happie. Let me be onely sure, thou louest me still, the onely price of trew affection goe therefore on, worthye Musidorus, with the guide of ver∣tue, and seruice of fortune. Let thy loue be loued, thy desires prosperous, thy escape safe, and thy iornye easie. Let euery thing yeeld his helpe to thy deserte, for my part [ 20] absence shall not take thee from mine eyes, nor afflictions shall barre mee from glad∣ding in thy good, nor a possessed harte shall keepe thee from the place it ha••h for e∣uer allotted vnto thee. Dorus would faine haue replied againe, to haue made a liber∣all confession that Zelmane had of her side the aduantage of well performing friend∣shippe: but partelie his owne griefe of parting from one he loued so dearely, partly [ 25] the kinde care in what state hee shoulde leaue Zelmane, bredd such a conflicte in his minde, that many times he wished, he had either neuer attempted, or neuer reuea∣led this secreat enterprise. But Zelmane, who had now looked to the vttermoste of it, and established her minde vpon an assured determination, my onely friend said shee since to so good towardnes, your courteous destinies haue conducted you, let not [ 30] a ceremoniall consideration of our mutuall loue, be a barre vnto it. I ioye in your presence, but I ioye more in your good, that friendshipp brings foorth the fruites of enmitie, which preferres his owne tendernes, before his friendes domage. For my parte my greatest griefe herein shalbe, I can bee no further seruiceable vnto you O Zelmane saide Dorus with his eyes euen couered with water, I did not think so soone [ 35] to haue displayed my determination vnto you, but to haue made my way first in your louing iudgement. But alas as your sweet disposition drew me so farre: so doth it now strengthen me in it. To you therefore be the due commendation giuen, who can conquere me in Loue, and Loue in wisedome. As for mee, then shall goodnes turne to euill, and vngratefulnes bee the token of a true harte when Pyrocles shall not [ 40] possesse a principall seate in my soule, when the name of Pyrocles shall not be helde of me in deuout reuerence.

They would neuer haue come to the cruell instant of parting, nor to the il-faring word of farewell, had not Zelmane sene a farre off the olde Basilius, who hauing per∣fourmed a sacrifice to Apollo, for his daughters, but principally for his mistresse hap∣py [ 45] returne, had since bene euery where to seeke her. And nowe being come within compasse of discerning her, he beganne to frame the loueliest coūtenance he could, stroking vp his legges, setting his bearde in due order, and standing bolte vpright.

Alas said Zelmane, behold an euill fore-token of your sorrowfull departure. Yonder see I one of my furies, which doth daylie vexe me, farewell fare wel my Musidorus, the Gods make fortune to waite on thy vertues, and make mee wade through this lake of wretchednes. Dorus burst out into a floud of teares wringing her fast by the hande. No, no, said he, I go blindfold, whither the course of my ill happe caries me: [ 5] for now too late my harte giues me this our separating can neuer be prosperous. But if I liue, attend me here shortly with an army. Thus both appalled with the grieuous renting of their long Combination, (hauing first resolued with thēselues that, what∣soeuer fell vnto them, they should neuer vpon no occasion vtter their names for the cōseruing the honour of their Royal parentage, but keep the names of Daiphantus & [ 10] Palladius, as before had ben agreed between thē) they tooke diuerse waies: Dorus to the lodg-ward, wher his heauy eyes might be somthing refreshed; Zelmane towards Basilius: saying to her selfe with a skornefull smiling: yet hath not my friendly for∣tune depriued me of a pleasant companion. But he hauing with much searche come to her presence, Doubt & Desire bred a great quarrel in his mind. For his former expe∣rience [ 15] had taught him to doubt: & true feeling of Loue made doubts daungerous, but the working of his desire had ere long wonne the fielde. And therefore with the most submissiue maner his behauiour could yeeld: O Goddesse, said hee towardes whom I haue the greatest feeling of Religion, be not displeased at some shew of de∣uotion I haue made to Apollo: since he (if he know any thing) knowes that my harte [ 20] beares farre more awful reuerēce to your self then to his, or any other the like Deity. You wil euer be deceaued in me, answered Zelmane: I wil make my selfe no compe∣titor with Apollo, neither can blasphemies to him be duties to me. With that Basilius tooke out of his bosome certaine verses he had written, and kneling downe, presen∣ted them to her. They contained this: [ 25]

PHaebus farewell, a sweeter Saint I serue, The high conceits thy heau'nly wisedomes breed My thoughts forget: my thoughts, which neuer swerue From her, in whome is sowne their freedomes seede, [ 30] And in whose eyes my dayly doome I reede.

Phaebus farewell, a sweeter Saint I serue. Thou art farre off, thy kingdome is aboue: She heau'n on earth with beauties doth preserue. Thy beames I like, but her cleare rayes I loue: [ 35] Thy force I feare, her force I still do proue.

Phaebus yeelde vp thy title in my minde. She doth possesse, thy Image is defaste, But if thy rage some braue reuenge will finde, [ 40] On her, who hath in me thy temple raste, Employ thy might, that she my fires may taste. And how much more her worth surmounteth thee, Make her as much more base by louing me.

This is my Hymne to you, said he, not left me by my auncestors, but begone in [ 45] my selfe. The temple wherin it is daylie songe, is my soule: and the sacrifice I offer to you withall is all whatsoeuer I am. Zelmane, who euer thought shee founde in his

speeches the ill taste of a medecine, and the operation of a poyson, would haue suf∣fred a disdainful looke to haue bene the onely witnesse of her good acceptation; but that Basilius began a fresh to lay before her many pittifull prayers, and in the ende to conclude that he was fully of opinion it was onely the vnfortunatenes of that place [ 5] that hindered the prosperous course of his desires. And therefore since the hatefull influence; which made him embrace this solitary life, was now past ouer him (as he doubted not the iudgment of Philanax would agree with his) and his late mishapes had taught him how perillous it was to commit a Princes state to a place so weakely guarded: He was now enclined to returne to his pallace in Mantinea, and there he [ 10] hoped he should be beter able to shew how much he desired to make al he had hers: with many other such honnie wordes which my penne growes almost weary to set downe: This indeede neerely pierced Zelmane. For the good beginning shee had there obtained of Philoclea made her desire to continue the same trade, till vnto the more perfecting of her desires: and to come to any publike place ••hee did deadly [ 15] feare, lest her maske by many eyes might the sooner be discouered, and so her hopes stopped, and the state of her ioyes endaungered. Therefore while shee rested, mu∣sing at the dayly chaunging labyrinth of her owne fortune, but in her selfe determi∣ned it was her onely best to keepe him there: and with fauors to make him loue the place, where the fauors were receiued, as disgraces had made him apte to chaunge [ 20] the Soyle.

Therefore casting a kinde of corner looke vpon him, it is truely saide, (saide she) that age cooleth the bloud. Howe soone goodman you are terrified before you re∣ceaue any hurte? Doe you not knowe that daintines is kindly vnto vs? And that hard obtayning, is the excuse of womans graunting? Yet speake I not as though you [ 25] were like to obtaine, or I to graūt. But because I would not haue you imagin, I am to be wonne by courtely vanities, or esteeme a man the more, because he hath hand∣some men to waite of him, when he is affraid to liue without them. You might haue seene Basilius humbly swell, and with a lowly looke stand vpon his tiptoes; such di∣uersitie her words deliuered vnto him. O Hercules aunswered he; Basilius afraide? Or [ 30] his bloud cold, that boyles in such a fournace? Care I who is with mee, while I en∣ioy your presence? Or is any place good or bad to me, but as it pleaseth you to blesse or curse it? O let me be but armed in your good grace, and I defie whatsoeuer there is or can be against mee. No, no, your loue is forcible, and my age is not without vi∣goure. Zelmane thought it not good for his stomacke, to receaue a surfet of too much [ 35] fauoure, and therefore thinking he had enough for the time, to keepe him from any sodaine remouing, with a certaine gracious bowing downe of her heade towarde him, she turned away, saying, she would leaue him at this time to see how temperate∣ly hee could vse so bountifull a measure, of her kindenes. Basilius that thought euery dropp a flood that bred any refreshment, durst not further presse her, but with an an∣cient [ 40] modestie left her to the sweete repast of her owne fancies. Zelmane assoone as he was departed went towarde Pamelas lodge in hope to haue seene her friende Do∣rus, to haue pleased her selfe with another paynefull farrewell, and further to haue taken some aduise with him touching her owne estate, whereof before sorowe had not suffered her to thinke. But being come euen neere the lodge, she saw the mouth [ 45] of a caue, made as it should seeme by nature in despite of Arte: so fitly did the riche growing marble serue to beautifie the vawt of the first entrie. vnderfoot, the ground semed mynerall, yeelding such a glistering shewe of golde in it, as they say the ryuer

Tagus caries in his sandie bed. The caue framed out into many goodly spatious Roomes such as the selfe-liking men, haue with long and learned delicacie founde out the most easefull. There rann through it a little sweete Riuer, which had lefte the face of the earth to drowne her selfe for a smale waye in this darke but pleasant man∣sion. The very first shewe of the place entised the melancholy minde of Zelmane [ 5] to yeelde her selfe ouer there to the flood of her owne thoughtes. And therefore sitting downe in the first entrie, of the Caues mouth, with a song shee had lately made, shee gaue a dolefull waye to her bitter Affectes, shee sunge to this effecte:

[ 10]

SInce that the stormy rage of passions darcke (Of passions darke, made darke of beauties light) Whith rebell force, hath closde in dungeon darke My minde ere now led foorth by reasons light:

[ 15]

Since all the thinges which giue mine eyes their light Do foster still, the fruites of fancies darke: So that the windowes of my inward light Do serue, to make my inward powers darke:

[ 20]

Since, as I say, both minde and sences darke Are hurt, not helpt, with piercing of the light: While that the light may shewe the horrors darke But cannot make resolued darkenes lighte: I like this place, whereat the least the darke [ 25] May keepe my thoughtes, from thought of wonted light.

In steede of an instrument, her song was accompanied with the wringing of her hands, the closing of her weary eyes, and euen sometime cut off with the swellinge [ 30] of hir sighes, which did not suffer the voice to haue his free and natiue passage. But as she was a while musing vpon her songe, raising vp her spirites, which were some∣thing falne into the weakenes of lamentation, considering solitary complaints do no good to him whose helpe stands with out himselfe, shee might a far off, first heare a whispering sounde which seemed to come from the inmost parte of the Caue, and [ 35] being kept together with the close hollownes of the place, had as in a Truncke the more liberall accesse to her eares, and by and by she might perceaue the same voice, deliuer it selfe into musicall tunes, and with a base Lyra giue foorth this songe:

[ 40]

HArke plaintfull ghostes, infernall furies harke Vnto my woes the hatefull heauens do sende, The heauens conspir'd, to make my vitall sparke A wreched wracke, a glasse of Ruines ende.

[ 45]

Seeing, Alas; so mightie powers bende Their ireful shotte against so weake a marke,

Come caue, become my graue, come death, and lende Receipte to me, within thy bosome darke.

For what is life to dayly dieng minde, [ 5] Where drawing breath, I sucke the aire of woe: Where too much sight, makes all the bodie blinde, And highest thoughts, downeward most headlong throw? Thus then my forme, and thus my state I finde, Death wrapt in flesh, to liuing graue assign'd.

[ 10]

And pawsing but a little, with monefull melodie it continued this octaue:

Like those sicke folkes, in whome strange humors flowe, Can taste no sweetes, the sower onely please: [ 15] So to my minde, while passions daylie growe, Whose fyrie chaines, vppon his freedome feaze, Ioies strangers seeme, I cannot bide their showe, Nor brooke oughte els but well acquainted woe. Bitter griefe tastes me best paine is my ease, [ 20] Sicke to the death, still louing my disease.

O Venus, saide Zelmane, who is this so well acquainted with mee, that can make so liuely a portracture of my miseries? It is surely the spirit appointed to haue care of me, which doth now in this darke place beare parte with the complaints of his [ 25] vnhappie charge. For if it be so, that the heauens haue at all times a measure of their wrathefull harmes, surely so many haue come to my blistlesse lot, that the rest of the world hath too small a portion, to make with cause so wailefull a lamentation. But saide she; whatsoeuer thou be, I will seeke thee out, for thy musique well assures me wee are at least-hand fellowe prentises to one vngracious master. So raise shee and [ 30] went guiding her selfe, by the still playning voice, till she sawe vppon a stone a little waxe light set, and vnder it a piece of paper with these verses verie lately (as it should seeme) written in it:

HOwe is my Sunn, whose beames are shining bright [ 35] Become the cause of my darke ouglie night? Or howe do I captiu'd in this darke plight, Bewaile the case, and in the cause delight?

My mangled mind huge horrors still doe fright, [ 40] With sense possest, and claim'd by reasons right: Betwixt which two in me I haue this fight, Wher who so wynns, I put my selfe to flight.

Come clowdie feares close vp my daseled sight, [ 45] Sorrowes suck vp the marowe of my might, Due sighes blowe out all sparkes of ioyfull light, Tyre on despaier vppon my tyred sprite.

An ende, an ende, my dulde penn cannot write, Nor mas'de head thinke, nor faltring tongerecite.

And hard vnderneath the sonnet, were these wordes written:

[ 5]

This caue is darke, but it had neuer light. This waxe doth waste it selfe, yet painelesse dyes. These wordes are full of woes, yet feele they none.

I darkned am, who once had clearest sight. [ 10] I waste my harte, which still newe torment tryes. I plaine with cause, my woes are all myne owne,

No caue, no wasting waxe, no wordes of griefe, Can holde, shew, tell, my paines without reliefe. [ 15]

She did not long stay to reade the wordes, for not farre off from the stone shee might discerne in a darke corner, a Ladie lieng with her face so prostrate vpon the ground, as she could neither know, nor be knowen. But (as the generall nature of man is desirous of knowledge, and sorrow especially glad to find fellowes,) she went [ 20] as softely as she could conuey her foot, neere vnto her, where she heard these words come with vehement sobbings from her. O darkenes (saide shee) which doest light somly (me thinks) make me see the picture of my inward darknes: since I haue cho∣sen thee, to be the secret witnesse of my sorows, let me receiue a safe receipte in thee; and esteeme them not tedious, but if it be possible, let the vttering them be some dis∣charge [ 25] to my ouerloaden breast. Alas sorrowe, nowe thou hast the full sack of my conquered spirits, rest thy selfe a while, and set not stil new fire to thy owne spoiles: O accursed reason, how many eyes thou hast to see thy euills, and thou dimme, nay blinde thou arte in preuenting them? Forlorne creature that I am! I would I might be freely wicked, since wickednesse doth preuaile, but the foote steppes of my ouer-troden [ 30] vertue, lie still as bitter accusations vnto me: I am deuided in my selfe, howe can I stande? I am ouerthrowne in my selfe, who shall raise mee? Vice is but a nurse of new agonies, and the vertue I am diuorsed from, makes the hatefull comparison the more manyfest. No, no vertue, either I neuer had but a shadow of thee, or thou thy selfe, art but a shadow. For how is my soule abandoned? How are all my powers [ 35] laide waste? My desire is payned, because it cannot hope, and if hope came, his best shoulde bee but mischiefe. O strange mixture of humaine mindes! onely so much good lefte, as to make vs languish in our owne euills. Yee infernall furies, (for it is too late for mee, to awake my dead vertue, or to place my comforte in the angrie Gods) yee infernall furies I say, aide one that dedicates her selfe vnto you, let my [ 40] rage bee satisfied, since the effecte of it is fit for your seruice. Neither bee afraide to make me too happie, since nothing can come to appease the smart of my guiltie cōs∣cience. I desire but to asswage the sweltring of my hellish longing, deiected Gynecia. Zelmane, no sooner heard the name of Gynecia, but that with a colde sweate all ouer her, as if she had ben ready to treade vpon a deadly stinging Adder, she would haue [ 45] withdrawne her selfe, but her owne passion made her yeelde more vnquiet moti∣ons, then she had done in comming. So that she was perceaued, & Gynecia sodainely

risne vp, for in deed it was Ginecia, gotten into this Caue, (the same Caue, wherein Dametas had safelie kept Pamela in the late vprore) to passe her pangs, with change of places. And as her minde ranne still vpon Zelmane, her piercing louers eye had soone found it was she. And seeing in her a countenance to flye away, she fell [ 5] downe at her feete, and catching fast hold of her: Alas, sayd she, whether, or from whome doost thou flye awaye? the sauagest beastes are wonne with seruice, and there is no flint but may be mollifyed: How is Gynecia so vnworthie in thine eyes? or whome cannot aboundance of loue, make worthie? O thinke not that crueltie, or vngratefulnes, can flowe from a good minde! O weigh, Alas! weigh with thy [ 10] selfe, the newe effectes of this mightie passion, that I vnfit for my state, vncomely for my sexe, must become a suppliant at thy feete! By the happie woman that bare thee, by all the ioyes of thy hart, and successe of thy desire, I beseech thee turne thy selfe to some consideration of me; and rather shew pittie in now helping me, then into late repenting my death which hourely threatens me. Zelmane imputing it, to [ 15] one of her continuall mishaps, thus to haue met with this Lady, with a full weary countenance; Without doubt Madame, said she, where the desire is such, as may be obtained, and the partie well deseruing as your selfe, it must be a great excuse that may well cullour a deniall; but when the first motion carries with it a direct impos∣sibilitie, then must the only answere be, comfort without helpe, and sorrow to both [ 20] parties; to you not obtaining to me not able to graunt. O sayd Gynecia, how good leisure you haue to frame these scornefull answeres? Is Ginecia thus to be despised? am I so vile a worme in your sight? no no, trust to it hard harted tigre, I will not be the only Actor of this Tragedy: since I must fall, I will presse downe some others with my ruines: since I must burne, my spitefull neighbors shall feele of my fire. [ 25] Doest thou not perceaue that my diligent eyes haue pierced through the clowdie maske of thy desguisemēt? Haue I not told thee, ô foole, (if I were not much more foole) that I know thou wouldest abuse vs with thy outward shew? Wilt thou still attend the rage of loue in a womans hart? the girle thy well chosen mistresse, per∣chaunce shall defend thee, when Basilius shal know how thou hast sotted his minde [ 30] with falsehood, and falsely sought the dishonour of his house. Beleeue it, beleeue it vnkind creature, I will end my miseries with a notable example of reuenge, and that accursed cradle of mine shal feele the smart of my wound, thou of thy tiranny, and lastly (I confesse) my selfe of mine owne work. Zelmane that had long before doub∣ted her selfe to be discouered by her, and now plainely finding it, was as the pro∣uerbe [ 35] saith, like them that hold the wolfe by the eares, bitten while they hold, and slaine if they loose. If she held her off in these wonted termes, she sawe rage would make her loue worke the effects of hate; to graunt vnto her, her hart was so bounde vpon Philoclea, it had ben worse then a thousand deaths. Yet found she it was neces∣sarie for her, to come to a resolution, for Gynecias sore could bide no leasure, and once [ 40] discouered, besides the dāger of Philoclea, her desires should be for euer vtterly stop∣ped. She remēbred withall the words of Basilius, how apt he was to leaue this life, & returne to his court, a great barre to her hopes. Lastly she considered Dorus enter∣prise, might bring some strange alteration of this their well liked fellowship. So that encompassed with these instant difficulties, she bent her spirits to thinke of a reme∣die, [ 45] which might at once both saue her from them, and serue her to the accomplish∣ment of her only pursuite. Lastly, she determined thus, that there was no way but to yeeld to the violence of their desires, since striuing did the more chafe them.

And that following their owne current, at length of it selfe it would bring her to the other side of her burning desires.

Now in the meane while the diuided Dorus, long diuided betwene loue and frendship, and now for his loue diuided frō his frend, though indeed without pre∣iudice of frendships loyaltie, which doth neuer barre the minde from his free satis∣faction: [ 5] yet still a cruell iudge ouer himselfe, thought he was somewayes faultie, and applied his minde how to amend it, with a speedie and behouefull returne. But then was his first studie, how to get away, whereto already he had Pamelas consent, confirmed and concluded vnder the name of Mopsa in her owne presence, Dorus taking this way, that whatsoeuer he would haue of Pamela he would aske her, whe∣ther [ 10] in such a case it were not best for Mopsa so to behaue her selfe, in that sort ma∣king Mopsas enuie, an instrument of that she did enuie. So hauing passed ouer, his first and most feared difficultie, he busied his spirites how to come to the haruest of his desires, whereof he had so faire a shew. And therevnto (hauing gotten leaue for some dayes of his maister Damaetas, who now accompted him as his sonne in lawe,) [ 15] he romed round about the desart, to finde some vnknowne way, that might bring him to the next Sea port, as much as might be out of all course of other passengers: which all very well succeeding him, and he hauing hired a Bark for his liues traffick, and prouided horsses to carrie her thither, returned homeward, now come to the last point of his care, how to goe beyond the loathsome watchfulnes of these three [ 20] vncomely companions, and therin did wisely consider, how they were to be taken with whom he had to deale, remembring that in the particularities of euery bodies mind & fortune, there are particuler aduantages, by which they are to be held. The muddy mind of Damaetas, he found most easily sturred with couetousnes. The curst mischeuous hart of Miso, most apt to be tickled with iealousie, as whose rotten brain [ 25] could think wel of no body. But yong mistres Mopsa, who could open her eys vpon nothing, that did not all to bewonder her, he thought curiositie the fittest bait for her. And first for Damaetas, Dorus hauing imploid a whole days work, about a tenne mile off from the lodge (quite contrary way to that he ment to take with Pamela) in digging & opening the ground, vnder an auncient oke that stood there, in such sort [ 30] as might longest hold Damaetas greedy hopes, in some shewe of comfort, he came to his master, with a countenance mixt betwixt cherefulnes and haste, and taking him by the right hand, as if he had a great matter of secrecie to reueale vnto him: Master said he, I did neuer thinke that the gods had appointed my mind freely brought vp, to haue so longing a desire to serue you, but that they minded therby to bring some [ 35] extraordinary frute to one so beloued of them, as your honesty makes me think you are. This bindes me euen in conscience, to disclose that which I perswade my self is alotted vnto you, that your fortune may be of equal ballance with your deserts. He said no further, because he would let Damaetas play vpon the bit a while, who not vnderstanding what his words entended, yet well finding, they caried no euil news, [ 40] was so much the more desirous to know the matter, as he had free scope to imagin what measure of good hap himselfe would. Therefore putting off his cap to him, which he had neuer done before, & assuring him he should haue Mopsa, though she had bene all made of cloath of gold, he besought Dorus not to hold him long in hope, for that he found it a thing his hart was not able to beare. Maister, answered [ 45] Dorus, you haue so satisfied me, with promising me the vttermost of my desired blisse, that if my duty bound me not, I were in it sufficiently rewarded. To you

therefore shall my good hap be conuerted, and the fruite of all my labor dedicated. Therewith he told him, how vnder an auncient oke, (the place he made him easily vnderstand, by sufficient marks he gaue vnto him) he had found digging but a little depth, scatteringly lying a great number of rich Medailles, and that percing further [ 5] into the ground, he had met with a great stone, which by the hollow sound it yeel∣ded, seemed to be the couer of some greater vaut, and vpon it a boxe of Cypres, with the name of the valiant Aristomenes grauen vpon it: and that within the box, he found certaine verses, which signified that some depth againe vnder that all his trea∣sures lay hidden, what time for the discord fell out in Arcadia he liued banished. [ 10] Therwith he gaue Damaetas certaine Medailles of gold he had long kept about him, and asked him because it was a thing much to be kept secret, and a matter one man in twenty houres might easily performe, whether he would haue him go and seeke the bottome of it, which he had refrained to do till he knew his mind, promising he would faithfully bring him what he found, or else that he himselfe would do it, and [ 15] be the first beholder of that comfortable spectacle. No man need doubt which part Damaetas would choose, whose fancie had alredy deuoured all this great riches, and euen now began to grudge at a partenor, before he saw his owne share. Therefore taking a strong Iade, loaden with spades and mattocks, which he ment to bring back otherwise laden, he went in all speed thetherward, taking leaue of no body, only de∣siring [ 20] Dorus he would looke wel to the Princes Pamela. Promising him mountaines of his owne labor, which neuerthelesse he little ment to performe, like a foole not considering, that no man is to be moued with part, that neglects the whole. Thus away went Damaetas, hauing alreadie made an image in his fancie, what Pallaces he would build, how sumptuously he would fare, and among all other things imagi∣ned [ 25] what money to employ in making coffers to keepe his money, his tenne mile seemed twise so many leagues, and yet contrarie to the nature of it, though it see∣med long, it was not wearysome. Many times he curssed his horses want of consi∣deration, that in so important a matter would make no greater speede: many times he wished himself the back of an Asse, to help to carrie away the new sought riches, [ 30] (an vnfortunate wisher, for if he had aswell wished the head, it had bene graunted him.) At length being come to the tree, which he hoped should beare so golden Akornes, downe went all his instruments, and forthwith to the renting vp of the hurtlesse earth, where by and by he was caught with the lime of a fewe promised Medailles, which was so perfect a pawne vnto him of his further expectation, that [ 35] he deemed a great number of howers well employed in groping further into it, which with loggs and great stones was made as cumbersome as might be, till at length with sweatie browes he came to the great stone. A stone, God knowes, full vnlike to the couer of a Monument, but yet there was the Cipres box with Aristo∣menes grauen vpon it, and these verses written in it.

[ 40]

A Banisht man, long bard from his desire By inward letts, of them his state possest, Hid heere his hopes, by which he might aspire To haue his harmes with wisdomes helpe redrest.

[ 45]

Seeke then and see, what man esteemeth best, All is but this, this is our labours hire,

Of this we liue, in this wee finde our rest, Who hold this fast no greater wealth require. Looke further then, so shalt thou finde at least, A baite most fit, for hungr••e minded guest.

[ 5]

He opened the box, and to his great comfort read them, and with fresh courage went about to lift vp that stone. But in the meane time, ere Damaetas was halfe a mile gone to the treasure warde, Dorus came to Miso, whom he found sitting in the chimneys ende, babling to her selfe, and shewing me all her gestures that she was loathsomly weary of the worlde, not for any hope of a better life, but finding [ 10] no one, good neyther in minde nor body, where-out she might nourish a quiet thought, hauing long since hated each thing else, began now to hate her sel••e. Before this sweete humour'd Dame, Dorus set himselfe, and framed towardes her, such a smiling countenance, as might seeme to be mixt betwene a tickled mirth, and a forced pittie. Miso, to whome cheerefulnes in others, was euer a sauce of [ 15] enuie in her selfe, tooke quicklie marke of his behauiour, and with a looke full of foreworne spite: Now the Deuill, sayd she, take these villaynes, that can neuer leaue grenning, because I am not so fayre as mistresse Mopsa, to see how this skip-iacke lookes at me. Dorus that had the occasion he desired, Truly mistresse aunswe∣red he, my smiling is not at you, but at them that are from you, and in deede I must [ 20] needes alittle accord my countenance with other sport. And therewithall tooke her in his armes, and rocking her too and fro, In faith mistresse, sayd he, it is high time for you, to bid vs good night for euer, since others can possesse your place in your owne time. Miso that was neuer voide of mallice enough to suspect the vt∣termost euill, to satisfye a further shrewdnes, tooke on a present mildnes, and gent∣lie [ 25] desired him, to tell her what he meant, for, said she, I am like enough to be kna∣uishly dealt with, by that churle my husband. Dorus fell off from the matter a∣gaine, as if he had meant no such thing, till by much refusing her intreatie, and vehemently stirring vp her desire to knowe, he had strengthned a credit in her to that he should saye. And then with a formall countenance, as if the conscience [ 30] of the case had touched himselfe: Mistresse, sayd he, I am much perplexed in my owne determination, for my thoughts do euer will me to do honestlie, but my iudgement fayles me what is honest: betwixt the generall rule, that entrusted se∣creacies are holilie to be obserued, and the particuler exception that the disho∣nest secreacies are to be reuealed: especially there, whereby reuealing they may [ 35] eyther be preuented, or at least amended. Yet in this ballance, your iudgement wayes me downe, because I haue confidence in it, that you will vse what you know moderately, and rather take such faults as an aduantage to your owne good desert, then by your bitter vsing it, be contented to be reuenged on others with your own harmes. So it is mistresse said he, that yesterday driuing my sheepe vp to the stately [ 40] hill, which lifts his head ouer the faire Citie of Mantinea, I hapned vpon the side of it, in a little falling of the ground which was a rampie•• against the Sunnes rage, to perceaue a yong maid, truly of the finest stamp of beawtie, & that which made her bewtie the more admirable, there was at all no arte added to the helping of it. For her apparell was but such as Shepheards daughters are wont to weare: and as for [ 45] her haire, it hoong downe at the free libertie of his goodly length, but that some∣times falling before the cleare starres of her sight, she was forced to put it behinde

her eares, and so open againe the treasure of her perfections, which that for a while had in part hidden. In her lap there lay a Shepheard, so wrapped vp in that well li∣ked place, that I could discerne no piece of his face, but as mine eyes were attent in that, her Angellike voice strake mine eares with this song:

[ 5]

MY true loue hath my hart, and I haue his, By iust exchange, one for the other giu'ne. I holde his deare, and myne he cannot misse: There neuer was a better bargaine driu'ne.

[ 10]

His hart in me, keepes me and him in one, My hart in him, his thoughtes and senses guides: He loues my hart, for once it was his owne: I cherish his, because in me it bides.

[ 15]

His hart his wound receaued from my sight: My hart was wounded, with his wounded hart, For as from me, on him his hurt did light, So still me thought in me his hurt did smart: [ 20] Both equall hurt, in this change sought our blisse: My true loue hath my hart and I haue his.

But as if the Shepheard that lay before her, had bene organes, which were only to be blowen by her breath, she had no sooner ended with the ioyning her sweete lips together, but that he recorded to her musick this rurall poesie:

[ 25]

O Words which fall like sommer deaw on me, O breath more sweete, then is the growing beane, O toong in which, all honyed likoures b••e, O voice that doth, the Thrush in shrilnes staine, [ 30] Do you say still, this is her promise due, That she is myne, as I to her am true.

Gay haire more gaie then straw when haruest lyes, Lips red and plum, as cherries ruddy side, Eyes faire and great, like faire great oxes eyes, [ 35] O brest in which two white sheepe swell in pride: Ioyne you with me, to seale this promise due, That she be myne, as I to her am true.

But thou white skinne, as white as cruddes well prest, [ 40] So smooth as sleekestone-like, it smoothes each parte, And thou deare flesh, as soft as wooll new drest, And yet as hard, as brawne made hard by arte: First fower but say, next fowr their saying seale, But you must pay, the gage of promist weale.

And with the conclusion of his song, he embraced her about the knees, O sweet Charita said he, when shall I enioy the rest of my toyling thoughts? And when shall

your blisfull promise now due, be verified with iust performance? with that I drew neerer to them, and saw (for now he had lifted vp his face to glasse himselfe in her faire eyes) that it was my master Damaetas, but here Miso interrupted his tale, with rayling at Damaetas, with all those exquisite termes, which I was neuer good skolde inough to imagine. But Dorus, as if he had ben much offended with her impaciēce, [ 5] would proceed no further till she had vowed more stillnes. For said he, if the first drumme thus chafe you, what will you be when it commes to the blowes? Then he told her, how after many familiar entertainments betwixt them, Damaetas, laying before her, his great credit with the Duke, and withall giuing her very faire presents, with promise of much more, had in the ende concluded together to meete as that [ 10] night at Mantinea, in the Oudemian streete, at Charitas vncles house, about tenne of the clocke. After which bargaine Damaetas had spied Dorus, and calling him to him, had with great brauery told him all his good happe, willing him in any case to returne to the olde witch Miso (for so indeede mistresse of liuelinesse, and not of ill will he termed you) and to make some honest excuse of his absence, for [ 15] sayde he, kissing Charita, if thou didst know what a life I lead with that driuell, it would make thee euen of pittie, receaue me into thy only comfort. Now Mi∣stresse sayde he, exercise your discretion, which if I were well assured of, I would wish you to goe yourselfe to Mantinea, and (lying secrete in some one of youre gossypps houses, till the time appoynted come) so may you finde them together, [ 20] and vsing mercie, reforme my Maister from his euill wayes. There had nothing more enraged Miso, then the prayses Dorus gaue to Charitas bewtie, which made her iealosie swell the more, with the poyson of enuye. And that being increased with the presents she heard Damaetas had giuen her (which all seemed torne out of her bowells) her hollow eyes, yeelded such wretched lookes, as one might [ 25] well thinke Pluto at that time, might haue had her soule very good cheape. But when the fire of spite had fully caught hold of all her inward partes, then whosoe∣uer would haue seene the picture of Alecto, or with what maner of countenance Medea kild her owne children, needed but take Miso for the full satisfaction of that point of his knowledge. She that could before scarce go, but supported by crutches, [ 30] now flew about the house, borne vp with the wings of Anger, there was no one sort of mortall reuenge, that had euer come to her eares, but presented it selfe nowe to her gentle minde. At length with few words, for her words were choakt vp with the rising of her reuengefull hart, she ran downe, and with her own hands sadled a mare of hers, a mare that 7. yeare before had not bene acquainted with a sadle, & so [ 35] to Mantinea she went, casting with her selfe, how she might couple shame with the punishmēt of her accursed husband: but the person is not worthie in whose passion I should too long stand. Therefore now must I tell you that Mistresse Mopsa (who was the last party Dorus was to practise his cunning withal) was at the parting of her parents, attending vpon the Princes Pamela, whom because she found to be placed [ 40] in her fathers house, she knew it was for suspicion the Duke had of her. This made Mopsa with a right base nature (which ioyes to see anie hard hap happen to them, they deeme happie) grow prowd ouer her, & vse great ostentation of her own dili∣gēce, in prying curiously into each thing that Pamela did. Neither is there any thing sooner ouerthrows a weak hart, then opiniō of authority, like too strong a liquor for [ 45] so feebl a glasse, which ioined it self to the humor of enuying Pamelas beauty, so far, that oft she would say to her self, if she had ben borne a Duchesse as well as Pamela,

her perfections then should haue beene as well seene as Pamelas, with this manner of woman, and placed in these termes, had Dorus to play his last parte, which hee would quickly haue dispatched in tying her vp in such a maner, that she should litle haue hindred his enterprise. But that the vertuous Pamela, (whē she saw him so min∣ded,) [ 5] by countenaunce absolutlie forbad it, resolutely determining, she would not leaue behinde her any token of wrong since the wrong done to her selfe was the best excuse of her escape. So that Dorus was compelled to take her in the maner hee first thought of, and accordingly Pamela sitting musing at the strange attempt shee had condiscended vnto, and Mopsa harde by her, (looking in a glasse with very parti∣all [ 10] eyes) Dorus put himselfe between them, and casting vp his face to the top of the house, shrugging all ouer his bodie, and stamping somtimes vpon the ground, gaue Mopsa occasion (who was as busie as a Bee to know any thing) to aske her louer Do∣rus what ayled him, that made him vse so strange a behauiour, he, as if his spirits had beene rauished with some supernaturall contemplation, stoode still muett, somtimes [ 15] rubbing his forehead, sometime starting in him selfe, that hee set Mopsa in such an itche of inquirie, that she would haue offred her maydenhead, rather then belonge kept from it. Dorus not yet aunswearing to the purpose, still keeping his amazement. O Hercules, saide he, resolue me in this doubt. A tree to graunt ones wishes? Is this the cause of the Kinges solitarie life? Which parte shall I take? Happie in either, vn∣happie [ 20] because I cannot know which were my best happ. These doubtful selfe spe∣ches, made Mopsa yet in a further longing of knowing the matter, so that the prettie pigge, laying her sweete burden about his neck, my Dorus, saide she, tell mee these words, or els I know not what will befal mee, honny Dorus tell them me. Dorus ha∣uing stretched her minde vpon a right laste, extremely loued Mopsa, saide hee, the [ 25] matters be so great, as my harte failes me in the telling them, but since you holde the greatest seate in it, it is reason your desire should adde life vnto it. Ther with he told her a farre fet tale how that many millions of yeares before, Iupiter fallen out with A∣pollo had throwne him out of heauen, taking from him the priueledge of a God. So that poore Apollo was faine to leade a verie miserable life, vnacquainted to worke [ 30] and neuer vsed to begge, that in this order hauing in time learned to bee Admetus heardman, he had vpon occasion of fetching a certaine breed of beastes out of Arca∣dia, come to that verie deserte, where wearied with trauaile, and resting himselfe in the boughes of a pleasaunt Ashe tree, stoode little of from the lodge, hee had with pittifull complaintes gotten his father Iupiters pardon, and so from that tree was re∣ceaued [ 35] againe to his golden spheare. But hauing that right nature of a God, neuer to be vngratefull, to Admetus hee had graunted a double life, and because that tree was the chappel of his prosperous prayers, he had giuen it this equality, that whatso∣euer of such estate, and in such maner as he then was, sate downe in that tree, they should obtaine whatsoeuer they wished. This Basilius hauing vnderstoode by the o∣racle, [ 40] was the onely cause which had made him trie, whether framing himselfe to the state of an heardman, he might haue the preuiledge of wishing onely graunted to that degree, but that hauing often in vaine attempted it, because indeede hee was not such, he had now opened the secret to Dametas, making him sweare hee should wish according to his direction. But because said Dorus, Apollo was at that [ 45] time with extreme griefe muffled, round aboute his face, with a skarlet cloake, Ad∣metus had giuen him, and because they that must wish must be muffled in like sorte, and with like stuffe, my master Dametas is gone I know not whither to prouide him

a skarlet cloake, and to morrow doth appointe to returne with it, my Mistresse I can∣not tell how, hauing gotten some inckling of it, is trudged to Mantinea to get her selfe a cloake before him: because she woulde haue the first wishe. My master at his parting of great trust tould me this secret, commaunding me to see no bodie should clime that tree. But now my Mopsa, said he, I haue here the like cloake of mine owne [ 5] and am not so verie a foole as though I keep his commaundement in others to barre my selfe, I rest onely extreemely perplexed, because hauing nothing in the worlde I wish for, but the enioying you & your fauour, I think it a much pleasanter conquest to come to it by your owne consent, then to haue it by such a charming force, as this is. Now therefore choose since haue you I will, in what sorte I shall haue you. But [ 10] neuer child was so desirons of a gay puppet, as Mopsa was to be in the tree, and there∣fore without squeamishnes, promising all he woulde, shee coniured him by all her precious Loues, that she might haue the first possession of the wishing tree, assuring him that for the enioying her he should neuer neede to clime farre. Dorus to whom time was precious, made no great ceremonies with her, but helping her vp to the top [ 15] of the tree, from whence likewise she could ill come downe without helpe, he muf∣fled her round about the face, so truely that she her selfe could not vndoe it. And so he tolde her the manner was, she should hold her mind in continuall deuotion to A∣pollo, without making at al any noyse, till at the farthest within twelue howers space, she should heare a voice call her by name three times, & that till the thirde time shee [ 20] must in no wise aunswere; & then you shall not need to doubt your cōming down, for at that time said he, be sure to wish wisely, & in what shape soeuer he come vnto you speake boldly vnto him, and your wish shall haue as certaine effecte, as I haue a desire to enioy your sweet Loues, in this plight did hee leaue Mopsa, resolued in her hart, to be the greatest Lady of the world, & neuer after to feede of worse then fur∣mentie. [ 25] Thus Dorus hauing deliuered his hands of his three tormentors, took spee∣dely the benefit of his deuise, and mounting the gracious Pamela vpon a faire horse he had prouided for her he thrust himselfe forthwith into the wildest part of the de∣sarte, where he had left markes to guide him, frō place to place to the next sea porte, disguising her very fitly with scarfes although he rested assured, he should meet that [ 30] way with no body, till he came to his barck, into which hee ment to enter by night. But Pamela who al this while, transported with desire & troubled with feare had ne∣uer free scope of iudgemēt to look with perfect consideratiō into her own enterprise but euē by the lawes of loue, had bequeathed the care of her self vpō him to whom she had geuē her self. Now that the pang of desire with euident hope was quieted, & [ 35] most part of the feare passed, reason began to renew his shining in her hart, & make her see her self in her selfe; & weigh with what wings she flew out of her natiue con∣try; and vpon what ground she builte so strange a determinaciō. But loue fortified with her louers presence kept still his own in her hart. So that as they ridde together with her hand vpon her faithfull seruants shoulder, sodainly casting her bashfull eies [ 40] to the ground, and yet bending her self towards him, (like the clyent that committes the cause of all his worth to a well trusted aduocate,) frō a milde spirit saide vnto him these sweetely deliuered wordes: Prince Musidorus, (for so my assured hope is I may iustlie call you, since with no other my harte woulde euer haue yeelded to goe; And if so I doe not rightlie tearme you, all other wordes are as bootelesse, [ 45] as my deede miserable and I as vnfortunate, as you wicked) my Prince Musidorus I saye nowe that the vehement shewes of your faithfull Loue towardes mee, haue

brought my minde to answeare it, in so due a proportion, that contrarie to all gene∣rall rules of reason, I haue layde in you, my estate, my life, my honour: it is your part to double your former care, and make me see your vertue no lesse in preseruing then in obtaining: and your faith to bee a faith asmuch in freedome, as bondage. [ 5] Tender now your owne workemanshippe; and so gouerne your loue towardes me as I may still remaine worthie to bee loued. Your promise you Remember, which here by the eternall giuers of vertue, I coniure you to obserue, let me be your owne as I am, but by no vniust conquest; let not our ioyes which ought euer to last, bee stayned in our own consciences, let no shadow of repentaunce steale into the sweet [ 10] consideration of our mutuall happines. I haue yeelded to bee your wife, staye then till the time that I may rightly bee so; let no other defiled name burden my harte. What shoulde I more saye? If I haue chosen well, all doubte is past, since your action onely must determine, whether I haue done vertuously or shamefully in fol∣lowing you. Musidorus that had more aboundaunce of ioye in his hart, then Vlisses [ 15] had what time with his owne industrie he stale the fatall Palladium, imagined to bee the only relicke of Troies safetie, taking Pamelas hand, and many times kissing it. What I am said he, the Gods I hope will shortly make your owne eyes Iudges; and of my minde towards you, the meane time shalbe my pledge vnto you your contentment is dearer to me then mine owne, & therfore doubt not of his mind, whose thoughts [ 20] are so thralled vnto you, as you are to bend or slack them as it shall s••eme best vnto you. You do wrong to your selfe, to make any doubte that a base estate could euer vndertake so high an enterprise; or a spotted minde bee hable to beholde your ver∣tues. Thus much onely I must confesse, I can neuer doe, to make the worlde see you haue chosen worthily, since all the world is not worthy of you. In such delight∣full [ 25] discourses, kept they on their Iournye, mayntaining their hartes in that right harmonie of affection, which doth enterchangeably deliuer each to other the secret workinges of their soules, till with the vnused trauaile, the Princesse being weary, they lighted downe in a faire thyckwood, which did entise them with the pleasant∣nes of it to take their rest there. It was all of Pine trees, whose brodeheades meeting [ 30] togither, yeelded a perfit shade to the ground, where their bodies gaue a spacious and pleasant roome to walke in, they were sett in so perfet an order, that euerie waye the eye being full, yet no way was stopped. And euen in the middest of them, were there many sweete springes, which did loose themselues vpon the face of the earth. Here Musidorus drew out such prouision of fruites, & other cates, as he had brought [ 35] for that dayes repaste, and layde it downe vpon the faire Carpet of the greene grasse. But Pamela had much more pleasure to walke vnder those trees, making in their barkes prettie knottes, which tyed togither the names of Musidorus and Pamela, sometimes entermixedly changing there, to Pammedorus and Musimela, with twen∣tie other flowers of her trauiling fancies, which had bounde them selues to a greater [ 40] restrainte, then they could without much painewell endure, and to one tree more beholdinge to her, then the rest she entrusted the treasure of her thoughtes in these verses:

DO not disdaine, ô streight vp raised Pine [ 45] That wounding thee, my thoughtes in thee I graue: Since that my thoughtes, as streight as streightnes thine No smaller wound, alas! farr deeper haue.

Deeper engrau'd, which salue nor time can saue, Giu'ne to my harte, by my fore wounded eyne: Thus cruell to my selfe how canst thou craue My inward hurte should spare thy outward rine••

[ 5]

Yet still fairetree, lifte vp thy stately line, Liue long, and long witnesse my chosen smarte, Which barde desires, (barde by my selfe) imparte

And in this growing barke growe verses myne. [ 10] My harte my worde, my worde hath giu'ne my harte. The giuer giu'n from gifte shall neuer parte.

Vpon a roote of the tree, that the earth had lefte something barer then the rest, she wrat this couplet: [ 15]

SWeete roote say thou, the roote of my desire Was vertue cladde in constant loues attire.

Musidorus, seing her fancies drawne vp to such pleasaunt contemplations, ac∣companied [ 20] her in them, and made the trees aswell beare the badges of his passions•• As this songe engraued in them did testifie:

YOu goodly pines, which still with braue assent In natures pride your heads to heau'nwarde heaue, [ 25] Though you besides such graces earth hath lent, Of some late grace a greater grace receaue,

By her who was (O blessed you) content, With her faire hande, your tender barkes to cleaue, [ 30] And so by you (O blessed you) hath sent, Such pearcing wordes as no thoughts els conceaue:

Yet yeeld your graunt, a baser hand may leaue His thoughtes in you, where so sweete thoughtes were spent, [ 35] For how would you the mistresse thoughts bereaue Of waiting thoughts all to her seruice ment?

Nay higher thoughtes (though thralled thoughtes) I call My thoughtes then hers, who first your ryne did rente. [ 40] Then hers, to whom my thoughts a lonely thrall Rysing from lowe, are to the highest bente; Where hers, whom worth makes highest ouer all Comming from her, cannot but downewarde fall.

While Pamela sitting her downe vnder one of them, and making a posie of the [ 45] fayer vndergrowinge flowers, filled Musidorus eares with the heauenly sounde

of her musicke, which before he had neuer heard, so that it seemed vnto him a new assaulte giuen to the castle of his hart, alredye conquered, which to signifie and with all replie to her sweete noates, hee sang in a kinde of still, but rauishing tune a fewe verses, her song was this, and his Replie followes:

[ 5]

Pamela.

LIke diuers flowers, whose diuers beauties serue To decke the earth with his well-colourde weede, Though each of them, his priuate forme preserue, Yet ioyning formes one sight of beautie breede.

[ 10]

Right so my thoughts, where on my hart I feede: Right so my inwarde partes, and outward glasse, Though each possesse a diuers working kinde, Yet all well knit to one faire end do passe: [ 15] That he to whome, these sondrie giftes I binde All what I am, still one, his owne, doe finde.

Musidorus.

All what you are still one, his owne to finde, You that are borne to be the worldes eye, [ 20] What were it els, but to make each thing blinde? And to the sunne with waxen winges to flie?

No no, such force with my small force to trye Is not my skill, or reach of mortall minde. [ 25] Call me but yours, my title is most hye: Holde me most yours, then my longe suite is signde.

You none can clayme but you your selfe aright, For you do passe your selfe, in vertues might. [ 30] So both are yours: I, bound with gaged harte: You onely yours, too farr beyond desarte.

In this vertuous wantonnes, suffering their mindes to descend to each tender en∣ioying their vnited thoughts, Pamela, hauing tasted of the fruites, and growinge ex∣treame [ 35] sleepie, hauing ben long kept from it, with the perplexitie of her dangerous attempte, laying her head in his lappe, was inuited by him to sleepe with these soft∣ly vttered verses:

LOcke vp, faire liddes, the treasure of my harte: [ 40] Preserue those beames, this ages onely lighte: To her sweete sence, sweete sleepe some ease imparte, Her sence too weake to beare her spirits mighte.

And while ô sleepe thou closest vp her sight, [ 45] (Her sight where loue did forge his fayrest darte) ô harbour all her partes in easefull plighte: Let no strange dreme make her fayre body start••.

But yet ô dreame, if thou wilt not departe In this rare subiect from the common right: But wilt thy selfe in such a seate delighte,

Then take my shape, and play a louers parte: [ 5] Kisse her from me, and say vnto her spirite, Till her eyes shine, I liue in darkest night.

The sweete Pamela, was brought into a sweete sleepe with this songe which gaue Musidorus opportunity at leasure to beholde her excellent beauties. He thought her [ 10] faire forehead was a fielde where all his fancies fought; and euery haire of her heade semed a strong chain thattied him. Her fairer liddes then hiding her fairer eyes, see∣med vnto him sweete boxes of mother of pearle, riche in themselues, but contaning in them farre richer Iewells. Her cheekes with their coullour most delicately mixed would haue entertained his eyes somewhile, but that the roses of her lippes (whose [ 15] separating was wont to bee accompanied with most wise speeches) nowe by force drewe his sight to marke how preatily they lay one ouer the other, vniting their de∣uided beauties: and thorough them the eye of his fancy deliuered to his memorie the lying (as in ambush) vnder her lippes of those armed rankes, all armed in most pure white, and keeping the most precise order of military discipline. And lest this [ 20] beautie might seeme the picture of some excellent artificer, fourth there stale a softe breath, carying good testimony of her inward sweetnesse: and so stealingly it came out, as it seemed loath to leaue his contentfull mansion, but that it hoped to bee drawne in againe to that well cloased paradise, which did so tyrannize ouer Musido∣rus affectes that hee was compelled to put his face as lowe to hers, as hee coulde, [ 25] sucking the breath with such ioye, that he did determine in himselfe, there had ben no life to a Camaeleons if he might be suffered to enioye that foode. But long hee was not suffered being within a while interrupted by the comming of a company of clownish vilaines, armed with diuers sortes of weapons, and for the rest both in face and apparell so forewasted that they seemed to beare a great conformity with the sa∣uages; [ 30] who miserable in themselues, taught to encrease their mischieues in other bodies harmes, came with such cries as they both awaked Pamela, and made Musido∣rus turne vnto them full of a most violent rage, with the looke of a shee Tigree, when her whelpes are stolne away.

But Zelmane whome I left in the Caue hardly bestead, hauing both great wittes [ 35] and sturring passions to deale with, makes me lend her my penne a while to see with what dexteritie she could put by her daungers. For hauing in one instant both to re∣sist rage and goe beyond wisedome, being to deale with a Ladie that had her witts a wake in euery thing, but in helping her owne hurte, she saw now no other remedy in her case, but to qualifie her rage with hope, and to satisfie her witt with plainesse. [ 40] Yet lest to abrupt falling into it, shoulde yeelde too great aduantage vnto her, shee thought good to come to it by degrees with this kind of insinuation. Your wise, but very darke speeches, most excellent Lady, are wouen vp in so intricate a maner, as I know not how to proportiō mine answere vnto thē: so are your prayers mixte with threates, and so is the shew of your loue hidden with the name of reuenge, the natu∣ral [ 45] effect of mortal hatred. You seeme displeased with the opinion you haue of my disguising, and yet if bee not disguised, you must needes be much more displeased.

Hope then (the only succour of perplexed mindes) being quite cut off, you desire my affection, and yet you your selfe thinke my affection already bestowed. You pretend crueltie, before you haue the subiection, and are iealous of keeping that, which as yet you haue not gotten. And that which is strangest in your iealousie, is [ 5] both the vniustice of it, in being loath that should come to your daughter, which you deeme good, and the vaynnesse, since you two are in so diuers respects, that there is no necessitie one of you should fall to be a barre to the other. For neyther (if I be such as you fancie) can I mary you, which must needes be the only ende I can aspire to in her: neither neede the maryeng of her keepe me from a gratefull [ 10] consideracion how much you honor me in the loue you vouchsafe to beare me. Gynaecia, to whome the fearefull agonies she still liued in made any small repriuall sweete, did quickly finde her words falling to a better way of comfort, and there∣fore with a minde readie to shewe nothing could make it rebellious against Zelma∣ne, but to extreme tyrannie, she thus sayd: Alas too much beloued Zelmane, the [ 15] thoughts are but outflowings of the minde, and the tongue is but a seruant of the thoughtes, therefore maruaile not that my words suffer contrarieties, since my minde doth hourely suffer in it selfe whole armyes of mortall aduersaries. But, a∣las, if I had the vse of mine owne reason, then should I not neede, for want of it, to finde my selfe in this desperate mischiefe, but because my reason is vanished, so [ 20] haue I likewise no power to correct my vnreasonablenes. Do you therefore accept the protection of my minde, which hath no other resting place, and driue it not, by being vnregarded to put it selfe into vnknowne extremities. I desire but to haue my affection answered, and to haue a right reflection of my loue in you. That graunted, assure your selfe mine owne loue will easily teach me to seeke your con∣tentment: [ 25] and make me thinke my daughter a very meane price to keepe still in mine eyes the foode of my spirits. But take heede that contempt driue me not into despaire, the most violent cause of that miserable effect. Zelmane that alreadie sawe some fruite of her last determined fancie (so farre as came to a mollifyeng of Gynecias rage) seeing no other way to satisfye suspicion, which was help open with [ 30] the continuall prickes of loue, resolued now with plainnesse to winne trust, which trust she might after deceyue with a greater subtletie. Therefore looking vpon her with a more relenting grace, then euer she had done before, pretending a great bashfulnes before she could come to confesse such a fault, she thus sayde vnto her: Most worthye Ladye, I did neuer thinke, till now, that pittie of another coulde [ 35] make me betray my selfe, nor that the sounde of wordes could ouerthrow any wise bodies determinacion. But your words (I thinke) haue charmed me, and your grace bewitched me. Your compassion makes me open my hart to you, and leaue vnhar∣boured mine owne thoughts. For proofe of it, I will disclose my greatest secreate, which well you might suspect, but neuer knowe, and so haue your wandring hope [ 40] in a more painefull wildernesse, being neither way able to be lodged in a perfect re∣solucion. I will, I say, vnwrappe my hidden estate, and after make you iudge of it, perchance director. The truth is, I am a man: nay, I will say further to you, I am borne a Prince. And to make vp youre minde in a through vnderstanding of mee, since I came to this place, I may not denye I haue had some sprinkling [ 45] of I knowe not what good liking to my Lady Philoclea. For howe coulde I euer imagine, the heauens woulde haue rayned downe so much of your fauour vpon me? and of that side there was a shewe of possible hope, the most comfortable

Counsellor of loue. The cause of this my chaunged attyre, was a iourney two yeares agoe I made among the Amazons, where hauing sought to trye my vnfor∣tunate valure, I met not one in all the Countrey but was too harde for me, till in the ende in the presence of their Queene Marpesia, I hoping to preuayle a∣gaynst her, challenged an olde woman of fourescore yeares, to fight on horsse∣backe [ 5] to the vttermost with me. Who hauing ouerthrowne me, for the sauing of my life, made me sweare I should goe like an vnarmed Amazon, till the comming of my beard did, with the discharge of my oath, deliuer me of that bondage. Here Zelmane ended, not comming to a full conclusion, because she would see what it wrought in Gynecias minde, hauing in her speech sought to winne a beliefe [ 10] of her, and, if it might be, by disgrace of her selfe to diminish Gynecias affection. For the first it had much preuailed. But Gynecia whose ende of louing her, was not her fighting, neyther could her loue too deepely grounded receiue diminishment; and besides she had seene herselfe, sufficient proofes of Zelmanes admirable pro∣wesse. Therefore sleightly passing ouer that poynt of her fayned dishonor, but ta∣king [ 15] good hold of the confessing her manly sexe, with the shamefaste looke of that suitor, who hauing already obtayned much, is yet forced by want to demaunde more, put foorth her sorrowfull suite in these words: The gods, sayd she, rewarde thee for thy vertuouse pittie of my ouerladen soule, who yet hath receyued some breath of comfort, by finding thy confession to maintayne some possibilitie of my [ 20] languishing hope. But alas! as they who seeke to enrich themselues by minerall industrie, the first labour is to finde the myne, which to their cheerefull comfort being founde, if after any vnlooked for stop, or casuall impediment keepe them from getting the desired vre, they are so much the more greeued, as the late con∣ceaued hope addes torment to their former wante. So falles it out with mee [ 25] (happie or happlesse woman as it pleaseth you to ordayne) who am now either to receyue some guerdon of my most wofull labours, or to returne into a more wret∣ched darkenes, hauing had some glimmering of my blisfull Sunne. O Zelmane, tread not vpon a soule that lyes vnder your foote: let not the abasing of my selfe make me more base in your eyes, but iudge of me according to that I am and haue [ 30] bene, and let my errors be made excusable by the immortall name of loue. With that, vnder a fayned rage, tearing her clothes, she discouered some partes of her fayre body, which if Zelmanes harte had not bene so fully possest as there was no place left for any new guest, no doubt it would haue yelded to that gallant assault. But Zelmane so much the more arming her determination, as she sawe such force [ 35] threatened, yet still remembring she must wade betwixt constancie and curtesey, embracing Gynecia, and once or twise kissing her, Deare Ladie, sayd she, he were a great enemy to himselfe, that would refuse such an offer, in the purchase of which a mans life were blessedly bestowed. Nay, how can I euer yeeld due re∣compence, for so excessiue a fauour? but hauing nothing to geue you but my [ 40] selfe, take that: I must confesse a small, but a very free gift what other affection soeuer I haue had, shall geue place to as great perfection, working besides vppon the bonde of gratefulnes. The gods forbid I should be so foolish, as not to see, or so wicked as not to remember, how much my small deserts are ouerballan∣ced by your vnspeakeable goodnes. Nay happye may I well accompt my mis∣hap [ 45] among the Amazons, since that dishonor hath bene so true a path to my greatest honor, and the chaunging of my outward rayment, hath clothed my

minde in such inwarde contentacion. Take therefore noble Lady as much com∣fort to youre harte, as the full commandement of me can yeeld you: wipe your faire eyes, and keepe them for nobler seruices. And nowe I will presume thus much to saye vnto you, that you make of your selfe for my sake, that my ioyes of [ 5] my new obtayned riches may be accomplished in you. But let vs leaue this place, least you be too long missed, and henceforward quiet your minde from any fur∣ther care, for I will now (to my too much ioye) take the charge vpon me, within fewe dayes to worke your satisfaction, and my felicitie. Thus much she sayde, and withall led Gynecia out of the Caue, for well she sawe the boyling minde of [ 10] Gynecia did easily apprehende the fitnesse of that lonely place. But in deede this direct promise of a short space, ioyned with the cumbersome familiar of woman∣kinde, I meane modestie, stayed so Gynecias minde, that she tooke thus much at that present for good payment: remayning with a paynefull ioye, and a weary∣some kinde of comfort, not vnlike to the condemned prisoner, whose minde [ 15] still running vppon the violent arriuall of his cruell death, heares that his par∣don is promised, but not yet signed. In this sort they both issued out of that ob∣scure mansion: Gynecia already halfe perswaded in her selfe (ô weakenes of hu∣mane conceite) that Zelmanes affection was turned towards her. For such alas! we are all, in such a mould are we cast, that with the too much loue we beare our [ 20] selues, beeing first our owne flatterers, wee are easily hooked with our owne flattery, we are easily perswaded of others loue.

But Zelmane who had now to playe her prize, seeing no waye thinges could long remayne in that state, and now finding her promise had tyed her tryall to a small compasse of tyme, began to throwe her thoughtes into each corner [ 25] of her inuention howe shee might atchieue her liues enterprise: for well shee knewe deceite cannot otherwise be mayntayned but by deceite: and how to de∣ceyue such heedfull eyes, and how to satisfye, and yet not satisfye such hopefull desires, it was no small skill. But both their thoughtes were called from them∣selues, with the sight of Basilius, who then lying downe by his daughter Philo∣clea, [ 30] vppon the fayre, though naturall, bed of greene-grasse, seeing the sunne what speede hee made, to leaue our West to doo his office in the other He∣misphere, his inwarde Muses made him in his best musicke, sing this Ma∣drigall.

[ 35] WHy doost thou haste away O Titan faire the giuer of the daie? Is it to carry newes To Westerne wightes, what starres in East appeare? Or doost thou thinke that heare [ 40] Is left a Sunne, whose beames thy place may vse? Yet stay and well peruse, What be her giftes, that make her equall thee, Bend all thy light to see In earthly clothes enclosde a heauenly sparke. [ 45] Thy running course cannot such beawties marke: No, no, thy motions bee Hastened from vs with barre of shadow darke,

Because that thou the author of our sight Disdainst we see thee staind with others light.

And hauing ended, Deere Philoclea, said he, sing something that may diuerte my thoughts from the continuall taske of their ruinous harbour: She obedient to him, [ 5] and not vnwilling to disburden her secret passion, made her sweete voice be heard in these words:

O Stealing time the subiect of delaie, (Delay, the racke of vnrefram'd desire) What strange dessein hast thou my hopes to staie [ 10] My hopes which do but to mine owne aspire?

Mine owne? ô word on whose sweete sound doth pray My greedy soule, with gripe of inward fire: Thy title great, I iustlie chalenge may, [ 15] Since in such phrase his faith he did attire.

O time, become the chariot of my ioyes: As thou drawest on, so let my blisse draw neere. Each moment lost, part of my hap destroyes: [ 20]

Thou art the father of occasion deare: Ioyne with thy sonne, to ease my long annoy's. In speedie helpe, thanke worthie frends appeare.

[ 25]

Philoclea brake off her Song, as soone as her mother with Zelmane came neere vn∣to them, rising vp with a kindly bashfulnes, being not ignorant of the spite her mother bare her, and stricken with the sight of that person, whose loue made all those troubles, seeme fayre flowers of her deerest garlond, Nay rather all those troubles, made the loue encrease. For as the arriuall of enemyes, makes a towne so [ 30] fortifye it selfe, as euer after it remaynes stronger, so that a man may say, enemyes were no small cause to the townes strength: So to a minde once fixed in a well pleased determinacion, who hopes by annoyance to ouerthrowe it, doth but teach it to knit together all his best grounds, and so perchance of a chaunceable purpose, make an vnchangeable resolucion. But no more Philoclea see, the [ 35] wonted signes of Zelmanes affection towardes her; she thought she sawe an other light in her eyes, with a bould and carelesse looke vpon her which was wont to be dazeled with her beawtie; and the framing of her courtesyes rather ceremonious then affectionate, and that which worst liked her, was, that it proceeded with such quiet setlednes, as it rather threatned a full purpose, then any sodayne passion. [ 40] She founde her behauiour bent altogether to her mother, and presumed in her selfe, she discerned the well acquainted face of his fancies now turned to another subiecte. She sawe her mothers worthines, and too well knewe her affection. These ioyning theyr diuers working powers together in her minde, but yet a prentise in the paynefull misterye of passions, brought Philoclea into a newe tra∣uers [ 45] of her thoughtes, and made her keepe her carefull looke the more atten∣tiue vppon Zelmanes behauiour, who in deede (though with much payne, and

condemning her selfe to commit a sacriledge, against the sweete saincte that li∣ued in her in most Temple) yet strengthening herselfe in it, beeing the surest waye to make Gynecia bite off her other baytes, did so quite ouerrule all won∣ted showes of loue to Philoclea, and conuert them to Gynecia, that the parte she [ 5] played, did worke in both a full and liuely perswasion: to Gynecia, such exces∣siue comforte, as the beeing preferred to a riuall doth deliuer to swelling de∣sire: But to the delicate Philoclea, whose calme thoughtes were vnable to nou∣rish any strong debate, it gaue so stinging a hurt, that fainting vnder the force of her inwarde torment, she withdrewe her selfe to the Lodge, and there wea∣rye [ 10] of supporting her owne burden, cast her selfe vppon her bed, suffering her sorrowe to melt it selfe into abundance of teares, at length closing her eyes, as if eache thing she sawe was a picture of her mishap, and turning vpon her hurt∣side, which with vehement panting, did summon her to consider her fortune, she thus bemoned her selfe.

[ 15] Alas Philoclea, is this the price of all thy paynes? Is this the rewarde of thy giuen awaye libertye? Hath too much yeelding bred crueltye? or can too greate acquaintance, make mee helde for a straunger? Hath the choosing of a com∣panion, made mee lefte alone? or doth graunting desire, cause the desire to bee neglected? Alas, despised Philoclea, why diddest thou not holde thy thoughtes [ 20] in theyr simple course, and content thy ••elfe with the loue of thy owne vertue, which would neuer haue betrayed thee? Ah sillie foole, diddest thou looke for truth in him, that with his owne mouth confest his falsehood? for playne pro∣ceeding in him, that still goes disguised? They say the falsest men will yet beare outward shewes of a pure minde. But he that euen outwardly beares the badge of [ 25] treacherie, what hells of wickednes must needes in the depth be contayned? But ô wicked mouth of mine, how darest thou thus blaspheme the ornament of the earth, the vessell of all vertue? O wretch that I am that will anger the gods in dis∣praysing their most excellent worke! O no, no, there was no fault but in me, that could euer thinke so high eyes would looke so lowe, or so great perfections would [ 30] stayne themselues with my vnworthines. Alas! why could I not see? I was too weake a band to tye so heauenly a hart: I was not fit to limit the infinite course of his wonderfull destenies. Was it euer like that vpon only Philoclea his thoughtes should rest? Ah silly soule that couldst please thy selfe with ••o impossible an imagi∣nation! An vniuersall happines is to flowe from him. How was I so inueagled to [ 35] hope, I might be the marke of such a minde? He did thee no wrong, ô Philoclea, he did thee no wrong, it was thy weakenes to fancie the beames of the sonne should giue light to no eyes but thine! And yet, ô Prince Pirocles, for whome I may well begin to hate my selfe, but can neuer leaue to loue thee, what triumph canst thou make of this conquest? what spoiles wilt thou carry away of this my vndeserued [ 40] ouerthrow? could thy force finde out no fitter field, then the feeble minde of a poore mayde, who at the first sight did wish thee all happines? shall it be sayde the mirrour of mankinde hath bene employed to destroy a hurtlesse gentlewoman? O Pirocles, Pirocles, let me yet call thee before the iudgement of thine owne vertue, let me be accepted for a plaintiffe in a cause which concernes my life: what need hadst [ 45] thou to arme thy face, with the enchanting mask of thy painted passions? wht need hadst thou to fortefy thy excellēcies with so exquisit a cunning, in making our own arts betray vs? what needest thou descend so far frō thy incomparable worthines, as

to take on the habit of weake womankinde? Was all this to winne the vndefended Castle of a friend, which being wonne, thou wouldest after raze? Could so small a cause allure thee? or did not so vniust a cause stop thee? ô me, what say I more, this is my case, my loue hates me, vertue deales wickedly with me, and he does me wrong, whose doing I can neuer accompt wrong. With that the sweet Lady tur∣ning [ 5] her selfe vppon her weary bed, she happly sawe a Lute, vpon the belly of which Gynecia had written this song, what time Basilius imputed her iealous mo∣tions to proceed of the doubt she had of his vntimely loues. Vnder which vaile she contented to couer her neuer ceassing anguish, had made the Lute a monument of her minde, which Philoclea had neuer much marked, till now the feare of a competi∣tour [ 10] more sturred her, then before the care of a mother. The verses were these.

MY Lute which in thy selfe thy tunes enclose, Thy mistresse song is now a sorrow's crie, Her hand benumde with fortunes daylie blows, [ 15] Her minde amaz'de can neithers helpe applie. Weare these my words as mourning weede of woes, Blacke incke becommes the state wherein I dye. And though my mones be not in musicke bound, Of written greefes, yet be the silent ground. [ 20]

The world doth yeeld such ill consorted shows, With circkled course, which no wise stay can trye, That childish stuffe which knowes not frendes from foes, (Better despisde) bewondre gasing eye. [ 25] Thus noble golde, downe to the bottome goes, When worthlesse corke, aloft doth floting lye. Thus in thy selfe, least strings are loudest founde, And lowest stops doo yeeld the hyest sounde.

[ 30]

Philoclea read them, and throwing downe the Lute, is this the legacie you haue bequeathed me, O kinde mother of mine said she? did you bestow the light vpon me for this? or did you beare me to be the Author of my buriall? A trim purchase you haue made of your owne shame; robbed your daughter to ruyne your selfe! The birds vnreasonable, yet vse so much reason, as to make nestes for their tender [ 35] young ones; my cruell Mother turnes me out of mine owne harbour; Alas, plaint bootes not, for my case can receaue no helpe, for who should geue mee helpe? shall I flye to my parents? they are my murtherers, shall I goe to him who already being woon and lost, must needs haue killed all pittie? Alas I can bring no new intercessions, he knows already what I am is his. Shall I come home againe to [ 40] my self? ô me contemned wretch; I haue giuen away my self. With that the poore soule beate her breast, as if that had bene guilty of her faults, neither thinking of re∣uenge, nor studying for remedy, but sweete creature gaue greefe a free dominion, keeping her chamber a few days after, not needing to faine her self sick, feeling euen in her soule the pangs of extreeme paine. But little did Gynecia reck that, ney∣ther [ 45] when she sawe her goe awaye from them, neyther when she after found that sicknes made her hide her faire face: so much had fancye preuailed against nature.

But ô you that haue euer knowen, how tender to euery motion loue makes the lo∣uers hart, how he measures all his ioyes vpon her contentment: & doth with respect¦ful eye hang al his behauiour vpō her eyes, iudg I praye you now of Zelmanes troub∣led thoughts, when she saw Philoclea, with an amazed kinde of sorrow, carrie awaye [ 5] her sweete presence, and easely founde, (so happie a coniecture vnhappie affection hath) that her demeanour was guiltie of that trespasse. There was neuer foolish softe harted mother, that forced to beate her childe, did weepe first for his paines, and doing that she was loath to do, did repent before she began, did finde ha••fe that mo∣tion in her weake minde, as Zelmane did, now that she was forced by reason, to giue [ 10] an outward blowe to her passions, and for the lending of a small time, to seeke the vsury of all her desires. The vnkindnes she conceaued, Philoclea might conceaue, did wound her soule, each teare she doubted she spent, drowned all her comforte. Her sicknes was a death vnto her. Often woulde shee speake to the image of Philoclea, which liued and ruled in the highest of her inwarde parte, and vse vehement othes [ 15] and protestations vnto her; that nothing shoulde euer falsifie the free chosen vowe she had made. Often woulde she desire her that she would looke wel to Pyrocles hart, for as for her shee had no more interest in it to bestow it any way: Alas woulde shee saye onely Philoclea hast thou not so much feeling of thine owne force, as to knowe no new conquerer can preuaile against thy conquestes? Was euer any daseled with [ 20] the moone, that had vsed his eyes to the beames of the Sunne? Is hee carried awaye with a greedie desire of Akornes, that hath had his senses rauished with a garden of most delightfull fruites? O Philoclea Philoclea, be thou but as mercifull a Princesse to my minde, as thou arte a trewe possessour, and I shal haue as much cause of gladnes as thou hast no cause of misdoubting. O no no, when a mans owne harte is the gage [ 25] of his debte, when a mans owne thoughts are willing witnesses to his promise, lastly when a man is the gaylour ouer himselfe: There is little doubte of breaking credit, and lesse doubt of such an escape. In this combat of Zelmanes doubtfull imaginati∣ons, in the ende reason well backed with the vehement desire, to bring her matters soone to the desired hauen, did ouer rule the boyling of her inward kindnes, though [ 30] as I say with such a manifest strife, that both Basilius and Gynecias well wayting eyes, had marked her muses had laboured in deeper subiecte, then ordinarie, which she likewise perceauing they had perceaued, a waking her selfe out of those thoughtes, and principally caring howe to satisfie Gynecia (whose iudgement and passion shee stood most in regarde of) bowing her head to her attentiue eare, Madame saide she, [ 35] with practise of my thoughts, I haue found out a way by which your contentment shall draw on my happines. Gynecia deliuering in her face as thankfull a ioyfulnes, as her harte coulde holde, saide it was then time to retire themselues to their rest, for what, with riding abroade the day before, and late sitting vp for Egloges, their bo∣dyes had dearely purchased that nightes quiet. So went they home to their lodge, [ 40] Zelmane framing of both sides bountifull measures of louing countenaunces to ei∣thers ioye, and neythers iealousie; to the especiall comforte of Basilius, whose wea∣ker bowels were streight full with the least liquour of hope. So that still holding her by the hand, and sometimes tickling it, he went by her with the most gay conceates that euer had entred his braines, growing now so harted in his resolucion, that hee [ 45] little respected Gynecias presence. But with a lustier note then wonted, clearing his voice, and chearing his spirits, looking still vpon Zelmane (whome now the moone did beautifie with her shining almost at the full) as if her eyes had beene his songe

booke, he did the message of his minde in singing these verses:

VVHen two Sunnes do appeare Some say it doth betoken wonders neare As Princes losse or change: [ 5] Two gleaming Sunnes of splendour like I see, And seeing feele in me Of Princes harte quite lost the ruine strange.

But nowe each where doth range [ 10] With ouglie cloke the darke enuious night: Who full of guiltie spite, Such liuing beames should her black seate assaile, Too weake for them our weaker sighte doth vaile.

[ 15]

No saies faire moone, my lighte Shall barr that wrong; and though it not preuaile Like to my brothers raise, yet those I sende Hurte not the face, which nothing can amende.

[ 20]

And by that time being come to the lodge, and visited the sweete Philoclea, with much lesse then naturall care of the parents, and much lesse then wonted kindenes of Zelmane, each partie full fraught with diuersly working fancies, made their pil∣lowes weake proppes of their ouer loaden heades. Yet of all other were Zelmanes braynes most tormoyled, troubled with loue both actiue and passiue; and lastely and [ 25] especially with care, howe to vse her shorte limitted time, to the beste purpose, by some wise and happie diuerting her two louers vnwelcome desires. Zelmane hauing had the night her onely councellour in the busie enterprise shee was to vndertake, and hauing all that time mused, and yet not fully resolued, howe shee might ioyne preuailing with preuenting, was offēded with the daies bould entrie into her cham∣ber, [ 30] as if he had now by custome growne an assured bringer of euill newes. Which she taking a Citterne to her, did laye to Auroras chardge with these wel songe verses.

Aurora now thou shewst thy blushing light (Which oft to hope laies out a guilefull baite, [ 35] That trusts in time, to finde the way aright To ease those paines, which on desire do waite)

Blush on for shame: that still with thee do light On pensiue soules (in steede of restfull baite) [ 40] Care vpon care (in steede of doing right) To ouer pressed brestes, more greeuous waight.

As oh! my selfe, whose woes are neuer lighte (Tide to the stake of doubt) strange passions baite, [ 45] While thy known course, obseruing natures right Sturres me to thinke what dangers lye in waite.

For mischeefes greate, daye after day doth showe: Make me still feare, thy faire appearing showe.

Alas said she, am not I runne into a strange gulfe, that am faine for loue to hurt [ 5] her I loue? And because I detest the others, to please them I detest? O onely Philocle∣a, whose beautie is matched with nothing, but with the vnspeakeable beautie of thy fayrest minde, if thou didst see vpon what a racke my tormented soule is set, little would you thinke I had any scope now, to leape to any new chaunge, with that, with hastie hands she got her selfe vp turning her sight to euerie thinge, as if chaunge of [ 10] obiecte might helpe her invention. So went she againe to the caue where forthwith it came into her head, that shoulde bee the fittest place to performe her exploite, of which she had now a kinde of confused conceipte, although she had not set downe in her fancie, the meeting with each particularitie that might fall out. But as the painter doth at the first but showe a rude proportion of the thing he imitates, which [ 15] after with more curious hande, hee drawes to the representing each lineament. So had her thoughts beating about it continually, receaued into them a ground plot of her deuise, although she had not in each parte shapte it according to a full determi∣nation. But in this sorte hauing earelie visited the morninges beautie, in those plea∣sant desartes, she came to the King and Queene and tolde them, that for the perfor∣mance [ 20] of certaine her countrie deuotions, which onely were to be exercised in soli∣tarines, shee did desire their leaue shee might for a fewe daies, lodge her selfe in the Caue, the fresh sweetnes of which did greately delight her, in that hot countrie; and that for that smal space, they would not otherwise trouble themselues in visiting her, but at such times as she would come to waite vpon them, which shoulde bee euerie [ 25] daye at certaine houres, neither should it be long, shee would desire his priuiledged absence of them. They whose mindes had alredie taken out that lesson, perfectly to yeelde a willing obedience to all her desires, which consenting countenaunce made her soone see her pleasure was a lawe vnto them. Both indeede inwardlie glad of it, Basilius hoping that her deuiding her selfe from them, might yet giue him some freer [ 30] occasion of comming in secrete vnto her, whose fauourable face, had lately streng∣thened his fainting courage. But Gynecia of all other most ioyous, holding her selfe assured that this was but a prologue to the play she had promised her. Thus both flat∣tering them selues, with diuersly grounded hopes, they rang a bell which serued to call certaine poore women which euer lay in cabins not far off, to do the houshould [ 35] seruices of both lodges, and neuer came to either but being called for: And com∣maunded them to carry foorthwith Zelmanes bed and furniture of her chamber, in∣to the pleasaunt Caue; and to decke it vp as finelie, as it was possible for them, That their soules rest might rest her body to her best pleasing maner, that was with all di∣ligence performed of them, and Zelmane alredie in possession of her newe chosen [ 40] lodging, where she like one of Vestaes nunnes, entertaind herselfe for a fewe dayes in all showe of streightnes, yet once a day comming to doe her dutie to the King and Queene, in whom the seldomnes of the sight encreased the more vnquiet longing, though somwhat qualified, as her countenaunce was decked to either of them with more comforte then wonted. Especially to Gynecia who seing her wholy neglecting [ 45] her daughter Philoclea, had now promisd her selfe a full possession of Zelmanes harte, still expecting the fruite, of the happie & hoped for inuention. But both she and Basi∣lius kept such a continuall watch about the Precincts of the Caue, that either of them

was a bar to the other from hauing any secret, commoning with Zelmane. While in the meane time the sweete Philoclea forgotten of her father, despised of her mother, and in apparance lefte of Zelmane had yeelded vp her soule to be a pray to sorow and vnkindnes, not with raging conceite of reuenge as had passed thorow the stout and wise harte of her mother, but with a kindly meeknes taking vpon her the weight [ 5] of her owne woes, and suffering them to haue so full a course as it did exceedinglie weaken the estate of her bodie, aswell for which cause as for that, shee could not see Zalmane, without expressing (more then shee woulde) how farr now her loue, was imprisoned in extremitie of sorrow, she bound her selfe first to the limits of her own chamber, and after, (griefe breeding sicknes) of her bed. But Zelmane hauing now [ 10] a full libertie to cast about euery way, how to bring her conceaued attempt to a de∣sired successe, was ofte so perplexed with the manifould difficultie of it, that some∣times she would resolue by force to take her a way, though it were with the death of her parents, somtimes to go away herself with Musidorus and bring both their forces, so to winne her. But lastly euen the same day that Musidorus by feeding the humor [ 15] of his three loathsome gardiens, had stolne awaye the Princes Pamela (whether it were that loue ment to match them euerie waie, or that her friendes example had holpen her inuention, or that indeede Zelmane forbare to practise her deuise till she found her friend had passed through his.) The same daye, I saye, shee resolued on a way to rid out of the lodge her two combersome louers, and in the night to carrie a∣way [ 20] Philoclea: where vnto shee was assured her owne loue, no lesse then her sisters, woulde easely winne her consent. Hoping that although their abrupt parting had not suffered her to demaund of Musidorus which way he ment to direct his iorney) yet either they should by some good fortune, finde him: or if that course fayled, yet they might well recouer some towne of the Helotes, neere the frontie••es of Arcadia, [ 25] who being newly againe vp in armes against the Nobilitie, shee knew would bee as glad of her presence, as she of their protection. Therefore hauing taken order for all thinges requisite for their going, and first put on a sleight vndersute of mans appa∣rel, which before for such purposes she had prouided, she curiously trimmed her self to the beautif••ing of her beauties, that being now at her last triall, she might come vn∣to [ 30] it in her brauest armour. And so putting on that kinde of milde countenaunce, which doth encourage the looker on to hope for a gentle answere, according to her late receaued maner, she lefte the pleasant darkenes of her melancholy caue, to goe take her dinner of the King and Queene, and giue vnto them both a pleasant foode of seing the owner of their desires. But euen as the Persians were aunciently wont, to [ 35] leaue no rising Sun vnsaluted, but as his faire beames appeared clearer vnto thē wold they more hartely reioyce, laying vpō them a great fortoken, of their following for∣tunes: So was ther no time that Zelmane encoūtred their eies, with her beloued pre∣sence, but that it bred a kind of burning deuotiō in thē, yet so much the more glading their gredy soules, as her coūtenance were cleared with morefauour vnto thē, which [ 40] now being determinatly framed to the greatest descēt of kindnesse, it took such hold of her infortunate louers, that like children aboute a tender father, from along voy∣age returned, with louely childishnes hange about him, and yet with simple feare measure by his countenance, how farr he acceptes their boldnes: So were these now throwne into so seruiceable an affection, that the turning of Zelmanes eye, was a [ 45] strong sterne enough to all their motions, wending no way, but as the inchaunting force of it; guided them. But hauing made a light repaste of the pleasunt, fruites of that countrye, enterlarding their foode with such manner of generall

discourses, as louers are woont to couer their passions in, when respecte of a thirde person keepes them from plaine particulars, at the earnest entreatie of Basilius, Zel∣mane, first saluting the muses with a base voyal hong hard by her, sent this ambassade in versified musicke, to both her ill requited louers.

[ 5]

BEautie hath force to catche the humane sight. Sight doth bewitch, the fancie euill awaked. Fancie we feele, encludes all passions mighte, Passion rebelde, oft re••sons strength hath shaked.

[ 10]

No wondre then, though sighte my sighte did tainte, And though thereby my fancie was infected, Though (yoked so) my minde with sicknes fainte, Had reasons weight for passions ease reiected.

[ 15]

But now the fitt is past: and time hath giu'ne Leasure to weigh what due deserte requireth. All thoughts so spronge, are from their dwelling dri••'n, And wisdome to his wonted seate aspireth. [ 20] Crying in me: eye hopes deceitefull proue. Thinges rightelie prizde, loue is the bande of loue.

And after her songe with an affected modestie, shee threwe downe her eye, as if the conscience of a secret graunt her inward minde made, had sodainely cast a bash∣full [ 25] vaile ouer her. Which Basilius finding, and thinking now was the time, to vrge his painefull petition, beseeching his wife with more carefull eye to accompanie his sickly daughter Philoclea, being rid for that time of her, who was content to graunt him any scope, that she might after haue the like freedome, with a gesture gouerned by the force of his passions, making his knees his best supporters hee thus saide vnto [ 30] her.

Yf either, said he, O Ladie of my life, my deadly pangues coulde beare delaye or that this were the first time the same were manifested vnto you, I woulde nowe but maintaine still the remembraunce of my misfortune, without vrging any further re∣ward, then time and pittie might procure for me. But, alas, since my martirdome is [ 35] no lesse painefull, then manifest, and that I no more feele the miserable daunger, then you know the assured trueth thereof: why shoulde my tonge deny his seruice to my harte? Why should I feare the breath of my words who daylie feele the flame of your workes? Embrace in sweete consideration I beseech you, the miserie of my Case, acknowledge your selfe to bee the cause, and thinke it is reason for you to re∣dresse [ 40] the effectes. Alas let not certaine imaginatife rules, whose trueth standes but vpon opinion, keepe so wise a mind from gratefulnes and mercie, whose neuer fay∣ling laws nature hath planted in vs. I plainly lay my death vnto you, the death of him that loues you, the death of him whose life you maye saue, say your absolute deter∣mination, for hope it selfe is a paine, while it is ouer mastered with feare, and if you [ 45] do resolue to be cruel, yet is the speediest condemnation, as in euills, most welcome. Zelmane who had fully set to her selfe the traine she would keepe, yet knowing that who soonest meanes to yeelde doth well to make the brauest parley, keeping coun∣tenaunce

alofte. Noble prince said she, your wordes are to well couched, to come out of a restlesse minde, and thanked be the Gods your face threatens no daunger of death. These are but those swelling speeches, which giue the vttermost name to euerie trifle, which all were worth nothinge, if they were not enammeled with the goodly outside of loue. Truely loue were verie vnlouely, if it were halfe fo deadly, [ 5] as your louers (still liuing) tearme it I thinke well it may haue a certaine childish ve∣hemencie, which for the time to one desire will engage al the soule, so long as it last∣eth. But with what impacience you your selfe showe, who confesse the hope of it a paine, and thinke your owne desire so vnworthy, as you would faine bee ridd of it, and so with ouermuch loue sue hard for a hastie refusall. A refusall! (cried out Basili∣us, [ 10] amazed with al, but perced with the last) Now assure your self, when soeuer you vse that word diffinitiuely, it will be the vndoubted dome of my approching death. And then shall your owne experience knowe in mee, how soone the spirites dryed vp with anguish, leaue the performaunce of their ministerie, whereupon our life depēdeth. But alas what a crueltie is this, not only to tormēt but to think the tormēt [ 15] slighte? The terriblest tirants would say by no man they killed, he dyed not, nor by no man they punished, that he escaped free, for of all other, ther is least hope of mer∣cie where there is no acknowledging of the paine: and with like crueltie, are my wordes breathed out from a flamy harte, accompted as messingers of a quiet mind. If I speake nothing, I choake my selfe, and am in no way of reliefe: if simplye neg∣lected: [ 20] if confusedly not vnderstoode: if by the bending together all my inwarde powers, they bring forth any liuely expressing of that they truly feele, that is a token, forsooth, the thoughts are at too much leasure. Thus is silence desperate, follie puni∣shed, and witt suspected. But indeed it is vaine to say any more, for wordes can bind no beliefe. Lady, I say, determine of me, I must confesse I cannot beare this battell [ 25] in my minde, and therefore let me soone know what I may accompt of my selfe, for it is a hell of dolours, when the mind still in doubt for want of resolution, can make no resistaunce.

In deed aunswered Zelmane, if I should graunt to your request, I should shew, an example in my selfe that I esteeme the holy bande of chastitie to bee but and Imagi∣natife [ 30] rule, as you tearmed it: and not the truest obseruaunce of nature the moste noble commaundement that mankinde can haue ouer themselues, as indeede both learning teacheth, and inward feeling assureth. But first shal Zelmanes graue, become her marriage bedd, before my soule shall consent to his owne shame, before I will leaue a marke in my self of an vnredemable trespasse. And yet must I confesse that if [ 35] euer my hart were sturred, it hath ben with the manifest & manifold shewes of the misery you liue in for me. For in trueth so it is, nature giues not to vs her degenerate children, any more general precepte, then one to helpe the other, one to feele a true compassion of the others mishappe. But yet if I were neuer so contented to speake with you, (for further neuer ô Basilius looke for at my hands) I know not howe you [ 40] can auoyde your wiues iealous attendaunce, but that her suspicion shall bring my honour into question. Basilius whose small sailes the leaste winde did fill, was forth with as farre gonne into a large promising him selfe his desire, as before hee was stri∣ken downe with a threatned deuill. And therefore bending his browes as though he were not a man to take the matter as he had done, what saide hee, shall my wife [ 45] become my misteris? Thinke you not that thus much time hath taught mee to rule her? I will mewe the gentlewoman till she haue cast all her feathers, if she rouse her

selfe against me. And with that he walked vp and downe, nodding his head, as though they mistooke him much that thought he was not his wiues maister. But Zelmane now seeing it was time to conclude, of your wisdome and manhood sayd she, I doubt not, but that sufficeth not me, for both they can hardly ••ame a malicious [ 5] toong, and impossibly barre the freedom of thought, which be the things that must be only witnesses, of honor, or iudges of dishonor. But that you may see I doo not set light your affection, if to night after your wife be assuredly asleepe, whereof by your loue I coniure you, to haue a most precise care, you will steale handsomely to the caue vnto me, there do I graunt you as great proportion as you will take of free [ 10] conference with me, euer remembring you seeke no more, ••or so shall you but de∣ceyue your selfe, and for euer loose me. Basilius that was olde inough to know, that women are not wont to appoint secreat night meetings for the purchasing of land, holding himselfe alreadye an vndoubted possessour of his desires, kissing her hand, and lifting vp his eyes to heauen, as if the greatnes of the benefit did goe beyonde [ 15] all measure of thankes, sayde no more, least sturring of more words, might bring forth some perhaps contrarye matter. In which traunce of ioye, Zelmane went from him, sayeng she would leaue him to the remembrance of their appoynt∣ment, and for her she would goe visite the Ladie Philoclea, into whose chamber being come, keeping still her late taken on grauitie, and asking her how she did, [ 20] rather in the way of dutifull honour, then any speciall affection, with extreeme inward anguish to them both, she turned from her, and taking the Queene Ginae∣cia, ledde her into a baye windowe of the same Chamber, determining in her selfe, not to vtter to so excellent a wit as Gynaecia had, the vttermost poynt of her preten∣ded deuise, but to keepe the clause of it for the last instant, when the shortnes o•• the [ 25] time should not geue her spirits leasure to looke into all those doubts, that easily en∣ter to an open inuention. But with smiling eyes, and with a deliuered ouer grace, fayning as much loue to her, as she did counterfeit loue to Philoclea, she began with more credible then eloquent speech to tell her, that with much consideracion of a matter so neerely importing her owne fancie, and Gynaecias honour, she had nowe [ 30] concluded that the night following should be the fittest time for the ioyning toge∣ther their seuerall desires, what time sleepe should perfectly do his office vpon the King her husband, and that the one should come to the other into the Caue. Which place, as it was the fyrst receipt of their promised loue, so it might haue the fyrst honour of the due performance. That the cause why those fewe dayes past, [ 35] she had not sought the lyke, was, least the newe chaunge of her lodging, might make the Duke more apte to marke anye sodayne euent: which nowe the vse of it would take out of his minde. And therefore nowe, most excellent Ladie sayde she, there resteth nothing but that quicklie after supper, you trayne vp the King to visit his daughter Philoclea, and then fayning your selfe not well [ 40] at ease, by your going to bedde, drawe him not long to be after you. In the meane time I will be gone home to my lodging, where I will attend you, with no lesse deuocion, but as I hope with better fortune, then Thisbe did the toomuch louing and toomuch loued Piramus. The blood that quicklie ca••e into Ginecias fayre face, was the only answeare she made, but that one might easily see, content∣ment [ 45] and consent were both to the full in her; which she did testifie with the wringing Zelmane fast by the hand, cloasing her eyes, & letting her head fall, as if she would geue her to knowe, she was not ignorant of her fault, although she were

transported with the violence of her euill. But in this triple agreement did the daye seeme tedious of all sides, till his neuer erring course, had giuen place to the nightes succession: And the supper by eache hande hasted, was with no lesse speede ended, when Gynecia presenting a heauie sleepines in her countenance, brought vp both Basilius and Zelmane to see Philoclea still keeping her bedde, and [ 5] farre more sicke in minde then bodye, and more greeued then comforted with any such visitacion. Thence Zelmane wishing easefull rest to Philoclea, did seeme to take that nightes leaue of this princely crewe, when Gynecia likewise seeming somewhat deseased, desired Basilius to stay a while with her daughter, while she rocommended her sicknes to her beds comfort, in deede desirous to determine [ 10] agayne of the manner of her stealing away; to no lesse comfort to Basilius, who the sooner she was asleepe, the sooner hoped to come by his long pursued praye. Thus both were bent to deceaue each other, and to take the aduantage of either others disaduantage. But Gyneacia hauing taken Zelmane into her bed-chamber, to speake a little with her of their sweete determinacion: Zelmane vpon a sodaine [ 15] (as though she had neuer thought of it before) Now the Gods forbid, sayde she, so great a Lady as you are should come to me: or that I should leaue it to the handes of fortune, if by eyther the ill gouerning of your passion, or your husbands sodayne waking, any daunger might happen vnto you. No, if there be any supe∣rioritie in the poyntes of true loue, it shall be yours: if there be any daunger, since [ 20] my selfe am the author of this deuise, it is reason it should be mine. Therefore doo you but leaue with me the keyes of the gate, and vpon your selfe take my vpper garment, that if any of Damaetas house see you, they may thinke you to be my selfe, and I will presently lye downe in your place, so muffled for your supposed sick∣nes, as the King shall nothing knowe me. And then as soone as he is a sleepe, will [ 25] I (as it much better becommes me) waite vpon you. But if the vttermost of mis∣chiefes should happen, I can assure you the Kings life shall sooner pay for it, then your honour. And with the ending of her words, she threwe off her gowne, not geuing Gynaecia any space to take the full image of this newe chaunge into her fancie. But seeing no readye obiection against it in her heart, and knowing that [ 30] there was no time then to stand long disputing; besides, remembring the geuer was to order the maner of his gift, yeelded quickly to this conceit, in deede not among the smallest causes, tickled therevnto by a certayne wanton desire, that her husbands deceipt might be the more notable. In this sort did Zelmane, nimbly disarayeng her selfe, possesse Gynaecias place, hiding her head in such a close man∣ner, [ 35] as grieuous and ouerwatched sicknesse in wont to inuite to itselfe the solace of sleepe. And of the other side the Queene putting on Zelmanes vtmost apparell, went fyrst into her closet, there quickly to beawtifie her selfe, with the best and sweetest night deckings. But there, casting an hastie eye ouer her precious things, which euer since Zelmanes comming, her head otherwise occupied had left vn∣seene, [ 40] she hapned to see a bottle of golde, vpon which downe along were graued these verses:

Let him drinke this, whome long in armes to folde Thou doest desire, and with free power to holde.

[ 45]

She remembred the bottle, for it had bene kept of long time by the Kings of Cyprus, as a thing of rare vertue, and giuen to her by her mother, when she being

very young maried to her husband of much greater age, her mother perswaded it was of propertie to force loue, with loue effects, had made a precious present of it to this her beloued child, though it had bene receiued rather by tradition to haue such a qualitie, then by any approued experiment. This Gynaecia, (according to the [ 5] common disposition, not only (though especiallie) of wiues, but of all other kindes of people, not to esteeme much ones owne, but to thinke the labor lost employed about it) had neuer cared to geue to her husband, but suffred his affection to runne according to his owne scope. But now that loue of her particular choyse had awa∣ked her spirits, and perchance the very vnlawfulnes of it had a litle blowne the [ 10] coale: among her other ornaments with glad minde she tooke most part of this liquor, putting it into a faire cup, all set with diamonds: for what dares not loue vndertake armed with the night, and prouoked with lust? And thus downe she went to the Caue-ward, guyded only by the Moones faire shining, suffering no o∣ther thought to haue any familiaritie with her braines, but that which did present [ 15] vnto her a picture of her approching contentment. She that had long disdayned this solitary life her husband had entred into, now wished it much more solitary, so she might only obtaine the priuate presence of Zelmane. She that before would not haue gone so farre, especially by night, and to so darke a place, now tooke a pride in the same courage, and framed in her minde a pleasure out of the payne it selfe. [ 20] Thus with thicke doubled paces she went to the Caue, receyuing to her selfe, for her first contentment, the only lying where Zelmane had done: whose pillow she kist a thousand times, for hauing borne the print of that beloued head. And so kee∣ping, with panting heart, her trauelling fancies so attentiue, that the winde could stirre nothing, but that she stirred herselfe, as if it had bene the pace of the longed-for [ 25] Zelmane, she kept her side of the bed; defending only and cherishing the other side with her arme, till after a while wayting, counting with her selfe how many steps were betwixt the Lodge and the Caue, and oft accusing Zelmane of more cu∣rious stay then needed, she was visited with an vnexpected guest.

For Basilius, after his wife was departed to her fayned repose, as long as he re∣mayned [ 30] with his daughter, to geue his wife time of vnreadying her selfe, it was easily seene it was a v••ry thorny abode he made there: and the discourses with which he entertayned his daughter, not vnlike to those of earnest players, when, in the middest of their game, trifling questions be put vnto them, his eyes still loo∣king about, and himselfe still changing places, beginne to speake of a thing, and [ 35] breake it off before it were halfe done. To any speach Philoclea ministred vnto him, with a sodayne starting, and casting vp his head, make an answere farre out of all Grammer: a certayne deepe musing, and by and by out of it: vncertayne motions, vnstayed graces. Hauing borne out the limit of a reasonable time with as much payne as might be, he came darkeling into his chamber, forcing himselfe [ 40] to treade as softly as he coulde. But the more curious he was, the more he thought euery thing creaked vnder him: and his minde being out of the way with another thought, and his eyes not seruing his turne in that darke place, each Coffer or Cupbord he met, one saluted his shinnes, another his elbowes: sometimes ready in reuenge to strike them agayne with his face. Till at length, fearing his wife [ 45] were not fully asleepe, he came lifting vp the cloathes, as gently as (I thinke) poore Pan did, when, in stead of Ioles bedde, he came into the rough imbracings of Hercules: and laying himselfe downe, as tenderly as a new Bride, rested a while

with a very open eare, to marke each breath of his supposed wife. And sometimes he himselfe would yeeld a long fetched sigh, as though that had bene a musike to drawe one another to sleepe, till within a very little while, with the other parties well counterfeyt sleepe (who was as willing to be rid of him, as he was to be gone thence) assuring himselfe he left all safe there, in the same order stale out agayne, [ 5] and putting on his night gowne, with much groping and scrambling, he gate him∣selfe out of the little house, and then did the Moone-light serue to guide his feete. Thus with a great deale of payne, did Basilius goe to her whome he fledde, and with much cunning left the person for whome he had employed all his cunning. But when Basilius was once gotten (as he thought) into a cleare coast what ioye he [ 10] then made, how each thing seemed vile in his sight, in comparison of his fortune, how farre already he deemed himselfe in the chiefe tower of his desires, it were te∣dious to tell: once his heart could not choose but yeeld this song, as a fayring of his contentment.

[ 15]

GEt hence foule Griefe, the canker of the minde: Farewell Complaint, the misers only pleasure: Away vayne Cares, by which fewe men do finde Their sought-for treasure.

[ 20]

Ye helplesse Sighes, blowe out your breath to nought, Teares, drowne your selues, for woe (your cause) is wasted, Thought, thinke to ende, too long the frute of thought My minde hath tasted.

[ 25]

But thou, sure Hope, tickle my leaping heart. Comfort, step thou in place of wonted sadnes. Fore-felt Desire, begin to sauour parts Of comming gladnes.

[ 30]

Let voice of Sighes into cleare musike runne, Eyes, let your Teares with gazing now be mended, In stede of Thought, true pleasure be begunne, And neuer ended.

[ 35]

Thus imagining as then with himselfe, his ioyes so held him vp, that he neuer touched ground. And, like a right olde beaten souldiour, that knewe well enough the greatest Captaynes do neuer vse long Orations, when it commes to the very point of execution, as soone as he was gotten into the Caue, and to the ioyfull (though silent) expectation of Gynaecia, come close to the bed, neuer recking his pro∣mise [ 40] to looke for nothing but conference, he lept into that side reserued for a more welcome guest. And layeng his louingest hold vpon Gynaecia: O Zelmane, sayd he, embrace in your fauor this humble seruant of yours: hold within me my heart, which pantes to leaue his maister to come vnto you. In what case poore Gynaecia was, when she knewe the voyce, and felt the bodie of her husband, faire Ladies, [ 45] it is better to knowe by imagination then experience. For straight was her minde assaulted, partly with the being depriued of her vnquenched desire, but princi∣pallie

with the doubt that Zelmane had betrayed her to her husband, besides the renewed sting of iealosie, what in the meane time might befall her daughter. But of the other side, her loue, with a fixed perswasion she had, taught her to seeke all reason of hopes. And therein thought best before discouering of her selfe, to marke [ 5] the behauiour of her husband; who, both in deedes and wordes still vsing her, as taking her to be Zelmane, made Gynaecia hope that this might be Basilius owne en∣terprise, which Zelmane had not stayed, least she should discouer the matter which might be perfourmed at another time. Which hope accompanyed with Basilius maner of dealing, (he being at that time fuller of liuelier fancies, then many yeares [ 10] before he had bene) besides the remembrance of her daughters sicknesse, and late strange countenance betwixt her & Zelmane, all comming together into her mind, which was loth to condemne it selfe of an vtter ouerthrow, made her frame her selfe, not truly with a sugred ioye, but with a determinate patience to let her hus∣band thinke he had found a very gentle and supple-minded Zelmane; which he [ 15] good man making full reckening of, did melt in as much gladnesse as she was op∣pressed with diuers vngratefull burthens.

But Pyrocles who had at this present no more to play the part of Zelmane, hauing so naturally measured the maner of his breathing, that Basilius made no doubt of his sounde sleeping, and layne a preatie while with a quiet vnquietnes to per∣fourme [ 20] his entended enterprise, as soone as by the debate betwixt Basilius shinnes and the vnregarding fourmes he perceiued that he had fully left the Lodge: after him went he with stealing steps, hauing his sword vnder his arme (still doubting least some mischance might turne Basilius backe againe) downe to the gate of the Lodge. Which not content to locke fast, he barred and fortified with as many de∣uises, [ 25] as his wit and haste would suffer him, that so he might haue full time both for making readye Philoclea, and conueying her to her horse, before any might come in to finde them missing. For further endes of those endes, and what might ensue of this action, his loue and courage well matched neuer looked after, houl∣ding for an assured grounde, that whosoeuer in great things will thinke to preuent [ 30] all obiections, must lye still, and doo nothing. This determination thus wayed, the first part thus perfourmed, vp to Philocleas chamber dore went Pyrocles, rapt from himselfe with the excessiue fore-feeling of his (as he assured himselfe) neere comming contentment. What euer paynes he had taken, what daungers he had runne into, and especially those sawcy pages of loue, doubts, griefes, languishing [ 35] hopes, and threatning despayres, came all now to his minde, in one ranke to beaw∣tifye his expected blisfulnesse, and to serue for a most fit sawce, whose sourenesse might giue a kinde of life to the delightfull cheare his imagination fed vpon. All the great estate of his father, all his owne glorie, seemed vnto him but a trifling pompe, whose good stands in other mens conceit, in cōparison of the true comfort [ 40] he found in the depth of his mind, and the knowledge of any miserie that might en∣sue this ioyous aduenture, was recked of but as a slight purchase of possessing the top of happines, for so farre were his thoughts past through all perils, that alreadie he conceyued himselfe safelie arriued with his Ladie at the stately pallace of Pella, among the exceeding ioyes of his father, and infinite congratulacions of his frends, [ 45] geuing order for the royall entertayning of Philoclea, and for sumptuous shewes and triumphes against their mariage. In the thought wherof as he found extremity of ioy, so well found he that extremitie is not without a certayne ioyfull paine,

by extending the heart beyond his wonted limits, and by so forcible a holding all the senses to one obiect, that it confounds their mutuall working, not without a charming kinde of rauishing them, from the free vse of their owne function. Thus grieued only with too much gladnes, being come to the doore, which should be the entrie to his happines, he was met with the latter end of a song, which Philoclea [ 5] like a solitarie Nightingale, bewayling her guiltlesse punishment, and helplesse misfortune, had newly deliuered ouer, meaning none should be iudge of her passiō, but her owne conscience. The song hauing bene accorded to a sweetly playde on Lute, conteyned these verses, which she had lately with some arte curiously writ∣ten, to enwrap her secret and resolute woes. [ 10]

VErtue¹, beawtie², and speach³, did strike¹, wound², charme³, My harte¹, eyes², eares³, with wonder¹, loue², delight³: First¹, second², last³, did binde¹, enforce², and arme³, [ 15] His workes¹, showes², suites³, with wit¹, grace², and vow's³ might.

Thus honour¹, liking², trust³, much¹, farre², and deepe³, Held¹, pearst², possest³, my iudgement¹, sence², and will³, [ 20] Till wrong¹, contempt², deceipt³, did growe¹, steale², creepe³, Bandes¹, fauour², faith³, to breake¹, defile², and kill³.

[ 25]

Then greefe¹, vnkindnes², proofe³, tooke¹, kindled², tought³, Well¹ grounded, noble², due³, spite¹, rage², disdaine³, But¹ ah², alas³! (In vayne) my minde¹, sight², thought³, Doth him¹, his face², his words³, leaue¹, shunne², refraine³, [ 30] For no thing¹, time², nor place³, can loose¹, quench², ease³, Nine owne¹, embraced², sought³, knot¹, fire², desease³.

The force of loue to those poore folke that feele it, is many wayes very strange, [ 35] but no way stranger, then that it doth so enchaine the louers iudgement vpon her that holdes the raines of his minde, that what soeuer she doth is euer in his eyes best. And that best, being by the continuall motion of our changing life, turned by her to any other thing, that thing againe becommeth best. So that nature in each kinde suffring but one superlatiue, the louer only admits no positiue. If she sit still, that is [ 40] best, for so is the conspiracie of her seuerall graces held best together to make one perfect figure of beawtie. If she walke, no doubt that is best, for besides the making happie the more places by her steps, the very sturring addes a pleasing life to her na∣tiue perfectiōs. If she be silent, that without comparison is best, since by that meanes the vntroubled eye, most freely may deuoure the sweetnes of his obiect. But if she [ 45] speake, he will take it vpon his death that is best, the quintessence of each worde, beeing distilled downe into his affected soule. Example of this was well to be

seene in the giuen ouer Pyrocles, who with panting breath, and somtime sighes, not such as sorrowe restrayning the inwarde partes doth make them glad to deliuer, but such as the impacience of delay, with the vnsuretie of neuer so sure hope, is wont to breath out nowe being at the doore, of the one side, hearing her voice, which hee [ 5] thought if the Philosophers said true of the heauenly seuen sphered harmony, was by her not only represented, but farre surmounted, and of the other hauing his eyes ouerfilled with her beautie, (for the King at his parting had left the chamber open, and she at that time laye, as the heate of that countrie did wel suffer, vpon the toppe of her bedd, hauing her beauties eclipsed with nothing but with a faire smock, [ 10] wrought al in flames of ash-coullour silke and golde, lying so vpō her right side, that the left thigh downe to the foote, yeelded his delightfull proportion to the full vew which was seene by the helpe of a ritche lampe, which thorowe the curtaines a little drawne caste forth a light vpon her, as the moone doth when it shines into a thinne wood) Pyrocles I saye was stopped with the violence of so many dartes, cast by Cupid [ 15] altogether vpon him, that quite forgetting him selfe, and thinking therein alreadie he was in the best degree of felicitie, he would haue lost much of his time, and with too much loue omitted the enterprise vndertaken for his loue, had not Philocleas pit∣tifull accusing of him forced him to bring his spirites againe, to a newe bias, for shee laying her hand vnder her faire cheek, vpon which there did priuilie tickle the sweet [ 20] droppes of her delightfull though sorrowfull teares, made these wordes waite vpon her monefull songe. And hath that cruell Pyrocles saide shee, deserued thus much of me, that I should for his sake lift vp my voice in my best tunes, and to him continu∣ally, with powring out my plainte, make a di••dayned oblacion? Shall my soule still doe this honour to his vnmercyfull tirranie, by my lamenting his losse, to show [ 25] his worthines and my weakenes? He heares thee not simple Philoclea, he heares thee not; and if he did, some hartes grow the harder, the more they find their aduantage. Alas what a miserable constitution of minde haue I! I disdaine my fortune, and yet reuerence him that disdaines me. I accuse his vngratefulnes, and haue his vertue in admiration. O yee deafe heauens, I would either his iniury could blot out myne af∣fection, [ 30] or my affection could forget his iniury. With that geuing a pittiful but sweet shriche, shee tooke againe the lute, and beganne to sing this sonnet which might serue as an explaining to the other:

THe loue which is imprinted in my soule [ 35] With beauties seale, and vertue faire disguis'de, With inward cries putts vp a bitter role Of huge complaintes, that now it is despis'de.

Thus thus the more I loue, the wronge the more [ 40] Monstrous appeares, long trueth receaued late, Wrong sturres remorsed greefe, griefes deadly sore Vnkindnes breedes, vnkindnes fostreth hath.

But ah the more I hate, the more I thinke [ 45] Whome I doe hate, the more I thinke on him, The more his matchlesse giftes do deepely sinck Into my breste, and loues renewed swimme.

What medicin then, can such desease remoue Where loue draws hate, and hate engendreth loue?

But Pyrocles that had heard his name accused, & cōdemned by the mouth which of all the world, and more then all the world•• he most loued: had then cause enough to call his minde to his home, and with the most haste he could (for true loue feares [ 5] the accident of an instant) to match the excusing of his faulte, with declaration of his arrand thither. And therefore blowne vp & downe with as many contrary pas∣sions, as AEolus sent out windes vpon the troian reliques, guided vpon the sea by the valiant AEneas, hee went into her chamber with such a pace as reuerent feare doth teach, where kneeling downe, and hauing prepared a long discourse for her, his eies [ 10] were so filled with her sight that as if they woulde haue robbed all their fellowes of their seruices, both his hart fainted, and his toung fayled in such sorte, that he could not bring forth one word, but referred her vnderstanding to his eyes language. But she in extremitie amazed to see him there, at so vndue a season, & ashamed that her beautifull body made so naked a prospect, drawing in her delicate lims into the [ 15] weake guard of the bedd, and presenting in her face to him such a kinde of pittifull anger, as might shew, this was only a fault, therfore because she had a former grudge vnto him, turning away her face from him she thus said vnto him: O Zelmane or Py∣rocles, (for whether name I vse it much skils not, by the one I was first deceiued, & by the other now betrayed) what strange motion is the guide of thy cruel mind hither? [ 20] Dost thou not thinke the day torments thou hast giuen me sufficient, but that thou doest enuie me the nights quiet? Wilt thou giue my sorrowes no truce, but by ma∣king me see before mine eyes how much I haue lost, offer me due cause of cōfirming my plainte? Or is thy hart so full of rancour, that thou dost desire to feede thine eyes with the wretched spectacle of thine ouerthrowen enemie, and so to satisfie the full [ 25] measure of thy vndeserued rage, with the receuing into thy sight the vnreleuable rui∣nes of my desolate life? O Pyrocles, Pyrocles for thine own vertues sake, let miseries be no musique vnto thee, & be content to take to thy selfe some coloure of excuse, that thou didest not knowe to what extremitie thy inconstancie, or rather falshood hath brought me. Pyrocles to whom euery sillable she pronounced, was a thunderboult to [ 30] his hart, equally distraught betwixt amasement & sorow, abashed to se such a stop of his desires, greued with her paine, but tormēted to find himself the author of it, with quaking lips, & pale cheere, alas diuine Lady said he, your displeasure is so contrary to my deserte, & your words so farre beyond all expectatiōs, that I haue least abilitie now I haue most need, to speake in the cause vpō which my life dependeth. For my [ 35] troth is so vndoubtedly cōstāt vnto you, my hart is so assured a witnes to it self, of his vnspotted faith, that hauing no one thing in me, wherout any such sacriledg might a∣rise, I haue likewise nothing in so direct a thing to say for my selfe, but sincere & ve∣hemēt protestatiōs, for in truth, there may most words be spent, where there is some probabilitie, to breed of both sids cōiectural allegatiōs. But so perfect a thing as my [ 40] loue is of you, as it suffers no questiō, so it semes to receiue iniurie by additiō of any words vnto it. Yf my soule could haue ben polluted with treachery, it woulde like∣wise haue prouided for itself, due furniture of coullourable answeres, but as it should vpō the naked cōscience of his vntouched dutie, so I must cōfes it is altogether vnar∣med against so vniust a violēce as you lay vpō me, alas! let not the paines I haue takē [ 45] to serue you, be now accoūted iniurious vnto you, let not the dāgerous cūning I haue vsed to pleasure you be demed a treasō against you, since I haue deceued thē whom

you feare for your sake, doe not you destroye mee for their sake what can I without you further doe? Or to what more forwardnes can any counsell bring our desired happines? I haue prouided whatsoeuer is needfull for our going, I haue rid them both out of the lodge, so that there is none here to bee hinderers or knowers of our [ 5] departure, but only the almightie powers, whom I inuoke as triers of mine innocen∣cie and witnesses of my wel meaning. And if euer my thoughts did receiue so much as a fainting in their affections: if they haue not continually with more and more ardoure, from time to time pursued the possession of your sweetest fauour; if euer in that possession they receaued either spott, or falshoode: Then let their most horri∣ble [ 10] plagues fall vpon me, let mine eyes be depriued of the light which did abase the heauenly beames that strake them, let my falsified toung serue to no vse but to bee more mine owne wretchednes, let my harte empoysoned with detestable treason, be the seate of infernall sorrowe, let my soule with the endles anguish of his consci∣ence become his owne tormentor. O false mankind cried out the sweete Philoclea. [ 15] How can an impostumed heart, but yeelde forth euill matter by his mouth? Are oathes there to be belieued, where vowes are broken? No no, who doth wounde the eternall iustice of the Gods, cares little for abusing their names: and who in do∣ing wickedly doth not feare due recompencing plagues, doth little feare that inuo∣king of plagues, will make them come euer a whit the ••ooner. But alas what ay∣leth [ 20] this new conuersation, haue you yet another sleight to playe, or doe you think to deceaue me in Pyrocles forme, as you haue done in Zelmanes? Or rather now you haue betrayed me in both, is some third sex left you, into which you can transforme your selfe to inueigle my simplicitie? Enioye, enioye the conquest you haue alrea∣dy wone: and assure your selfe you are come to the farthest pointe of your cunning. [ 25] For my parte vnkinde Pyrocles, my only defence shalbe beleefe of nothing, my com∣forte my faithfull innocencie, and the punishment I desire of you shalbe your owne conscience. Philocleas hard perseuering in this vniust condemnation of him, did so ouerthrowe all the might of Pyrocles minde (who saw that time woulde not serue to proue by deedes, and that the better wordes he vsed, the more they were suspected [ 30] of deceiptfull cunning.) That voide of all counsell, and depriued of all comforte, finding best desertes punished, and nearest hopes preuented, hee did abandon the succour of himselfe, and suffered griefe so to close his harte, that his breath fayling him, with a deathfull shutting off his eyes hee fell downe at her bedside, hauing had time to say no more, but oh whom doest thou kil Philoclea? She that litle looked for [ 35] such an extreame euent of her doinges, starte out of her bedd, like Venus rising from her mother the sea, not so much striken downe with amazement, and griefe of her faulte, as lifted vp with the force of loue and desire to helpe, she laide her faire body ouer his brest, and throwing no other water in his face, but the streame of her teares nor giuing him other blowes but the kissing of her welformed mouth, her onely [ 40] cries were these lamentations: O vnfortunate suspicion, saide shee, the very meane to loose that we most suspect to loose. O vnkind kindnesse of mine, which returnes an imagined wrong with an effectuall iniury. O foole to make quarell my supplica∣tion or to vse hate as the mediator of loue, childish Philoclea, had thou throwne away the Iewell wherein all thy pride consisted? Hast thou with too much hast ouerrun [ 45] thy selfe? Then would she renew her kisses: O yet not finding the life retourne, re∣double her plaintes in this manner: O diuine soule, saide she, whose vertue can pos∣sesse no lesse then the highest place in heauen, if for mine eternall plague, thou haste

vtterly lefte this most sweet mansion, before I follow thee with Thisbes punishment for my rashe vnwarinesse, heare this protestation of mine: That as the wrong I haue done thee proceeded of a most sincere, but vnresistable affection: so led with this pittifull example it shall ende in the mortall hate of my selfe, and (if it may be) I will make my soule a tombe of thy memory. At that worde with anguish of minde and [ 5] weakenes of body encreased one by the other, and both augmented by this feareful accident, she had falne downe in a sounde: but that Pyrocles then first seuering his eye liddes, and quickly apprehending her daunger, to him more then death, beyond all powers striuing to recouer the commaundement of al his powers, staied her from falling: and then, lifting the sweet burthen of her body in his armes, laid her againe [ 10] in her bedd. So that she, but then the Physition, was nowe become the pacient: & he, to whom her weaknesse had bene seruiceable, was now enforced to do seruice to her weaknesse, which performed by him with that hartie care, which the most care∣full loue on the best loued subiect in greatest extremitie could employ, preuailed so farre, that ere long shee was able (though in strength exceedingly deiected) to call [ 15] home her wandering senses, to yeelde attention to that her beloued Pyrocles had to deliuer. But he lying downe on the bed by her, holding her hand in his, with so kind an accusing her of vnkindnes, as in accusing her he condemned himself, began from pointe to pointe to discouer vnto her all that had passed betwene his loathed louers & him. How he had entertained, & by entertaining deceiued, both Basilius & Gynecia: [ 20] & that with such a kind of deceipt, as either might see the cause in the other but nei∣ther espie the effect in themselues. That al his fauors to thē had tended only to make them strangers to this his actiō: & al his strangnes to her to the final obtaining of her long promised, & now to be perfourmed fauour. Which deuise seing it had so well succeeded to the remouing all other hinderances, that only her resolutiō remained [ 25] for the taking their happy iournie, he coniured her by al the loue she had euer borne him, shee would make no longer delay to partake with him whatsoeuer honors the noble kingdōe of Macedon, & al other Euarchus dominiōs might yeeld him, especially since in this enterprise he had now waded so farr, as he could not possibly retire him∣self back, without being ouerwhelmed with daūger & dishōour. He neded not haue [ 30] vsed further arguments of perswasiō: for that only coniuratiō had so forcibly bound all her spirits, that could her body haue secōded her mind, or her mind haue streng∣thened her body, without respect of any worldly thing, but only feare to be againe vnkind to Pyrocles, she had condiscended to goe with him. But raising her selfe a litle in her bed, & finding her own vnabilitie in any sorte to endure the aire: My Pyrocles [ 35] said she (with tearefull eyes & a pittifull coūtenance, such as well witnessed she had no will to deny any thing she had power to performe) if you can conuey me hence in such plight as you see me; I am most willing to make my ••xtreamest daūger a testi∣monie, that I esteme no daūger in regard of your vertuous satisfaction. But if shee fainted so faste, that she was not able to vtter the rest of her conceiued speech: which [ 40] also turned Pyrocles thoughts from expecting further answere, to the necessary care of reuiuing her, in whose fainting himself was more thē ouerthrown. And that ha∣uing effected with al the sweet meās his wits could deuise, though his highest hopes were by this vnexpected downfall sunke deeper thē any degree of dispaire: yet lest the appearāce of his inward grief might occasiō her further discōfort, hauing racked [ 45] his face to a more cōfortable semblāce, he sought some shew of reason, to shew shee had no reason, either for him, or for her selfe so to be aflicted. Which in the sweete minded Philoclea, whose consideration was limited by his wordes, and whose

conceite pearced no deeper then his outwarde countenaunce, wrought within a while such quietnesse of mind, and that quietnesse againe such repose of bodie, that slepe by his harbingers weakenesse, wearines, and watchfulnes, had quickly taken vp his lodging in all her senses. Then indeed had Pyrocles leasure to sit in iudgement [ 5] on himselfe, and to heare his reason accuse his rashnes, who, without forecaste of doubte, without knowledge of his friende, without acquainting Philoclea with his purpose or being made acquainted with her present estate, had falne headlong into that attempt, the successe whereof hee had long since set downe to himselfe as the measure of all his other fortunes. But calling to minde howe weakely they do that [ 10] rather finde faulte with what cannot be amended, then seek to amend wherein they haue beene faultie: he soone turned him from remembring what might haue beene done to considering what was now to be done, and when that consideration fayled what was now to be expected. Wherein hauing runne ouer all the thoughts, his rea∣son called to the strictest accountes could bring before him, at length he lighted on [ 15] this: That as long as Gynecia bewraied not the matter (which he thought she woulde not doe, aswell for her owne honour and safetie, as for the hope she might stil haue of him, which is loth to die in a louers hart) all the rest might turne to a preatie me∣ryment, and enflame his louer Basilius, againe to cast aboute for the missed fauour. And as naturally the harte stuffed vp with wofulnes is glad greedelie to sucke the [ 20] thinnest aire of comforte: so did hee, at the first, embrace this conceite as offeringe great hope, if not assurance of well doing. Till looking more neerely into it, and not able to answere the doubts and difficulties he sawe therein more and more arising the night being also farre spent, his thoughtes euen wearie of their owne burthens, fell to a straying kind of vncertaintie: and his minde standing onely vpon the nature [ 25] of inward intelligences lefte his bodie to giue a sleeping respite to his vitall spirites, which he, according to the qualitie of Sorrow, receiued with greater greedines then euer in his life before. According to the nature of sorrow, I say, which is past cares remedie. For care sturring the braines, and making thinne the spirites breaketh rest: but those griefes wherein one is determined there is no preuenting, do brede a dull [ 30] heauinesse which easely clothes it selfe in sleepe. So as laid downe so neare the beau∣tie of the worlde Philoclea, that their neckes were subiect each to others chaste em∣bracements, it seemed loue had come thither to laye a plott in that picture of death how gladly, if death came, their soules would goe together.

[ 35] The thirde Egloges.

THyrsis not with many painted words nor falsified promises, had wone the con∣sent of his beloued Kala, but with a true & simple making her know he loued her not forcing himselfe beyond his reach to buy her affection, but giuing her [ 40] such preatie presentes, as neither coulde wearie him with the giuing, nor shame her for the taking. Thus the first Strawberies he could find, were euer in a cleane washt dish sent to Kala thus poesies of the spring flowers were wrapt vp in a litle grene silke and dedicated to Kalas brestes, thus somtimes his sweetest Creame, sometimes the best Cakebread his mother made, were reserued for Kalas taste. Neither would hee [ 45] stick to kil a lamb when she would be content to come ouer the way vnto him. But thē lo, how the house was swept & rather no fire thē any smoke lefte to trouble her. Then loue songes were not daintie, when she would heare them, and as much ma∣nerlie

silence when shee would not: in going to Church great worship to Kala. So that all the parish said, neuer a maide they knew so well wayted on: and when daun∣cing was about the Maypole, no body taken out but she, and he after a leape or two to shewe her his owne actiuitie, woulde frame all the rest of his dauncing, onely to grace her. As for her fathers sheepe, he had no lesse care of them then his owne: so [ 5] that she might play her as she would, warranted with honest Thyrsis carefulnes. But if he spied Kala fauourd any one of the flocke more then his fellowes, then that was cherished: shearing him so (when shorne he must be) as might most become him: but while the wole was on, wrapping within it ••••me verses, wherin Thyrsis had a spe∣ciall gifte, and making the innocent beast his vnweting messinger. Thus constantly [ 10] continuing, though he were none of the fayrest, at length he wanne Kalas harte, the honestest wenche in all those quarters. And so with consent of both parents (with∣out which nether Thyrsis would aske, nor Kala grant) their marring day was appoin∣ted, which because it fell out in this time, I thinke it shall not be impertinent, to re∣member a little our shepheards, while the other greater persons, are either sleeping [ 15] or otherwise troubled. Thyrsis mariage time once knowne, there needed no inuiting of the neighbours in that valley, for so well was Thyrsis beloued, that they were al∣ready to doe him credit, neither yet came they like Harpies to deuoure him: but on bought a fat pigge, the other a tender kidd, the thirde a great goose: as for chese, milke, & butter, were the gossips presents. Thither came of strange shepheards onely [ 20] the melancholy Philisides, ••or the vertuous Coridon had long since left off al his ioyful solemnities. And as for Strephon and Klaius, they had lost their mistresse, which put them into such extreme sorrowes as they could scarcely abide the light of the daye, much lesse the eyes of men. But of the Arcadian borne shepheardes, thither came good olde Geron, young Histor, though vnwilling, and vpright Dicus, mery Pass and [ 25] iolly Nico. As for Damaetas they durst not presume (his pride was such) to inuite him: and Dorus they founde might not bee spared. And there vnder a bower was made of bowes (for Thyrsis house was not able to receaue them) euery one placed according to his age. The women (for such was the maner of the country) kept to∣gether to make good cheare among themselues, from which otherwise a certaine [ 30] painefull modestie restraines them, and there might the sadder matrones giue good counsel to Kala: who poore soule wept for feare of that she desired. But among the shepheards was al honest libertie, no feare of daungerous tel-tales, who hunt greater prayes, nor indeede mindes in them to giue tell-tales any occasion; but one questi∣oning with another of the manuring his ground, and gouerning his flock, the highest [ 35] pointe they reached to was to talke of the holines of mariage, to which purpose as∣soone as their sober dynner was ended, Dycus insteede of thankes, sange this songe with a cleare voice and cheerfull countenaunce.

LEt mother earth now decke her selfe in flowers, [ 40] To see her ofspring seeke a good increase, Where iustest loue doth vanquish Cupids powers And ware of thoughts is swallow'd vp in peace Which neuer may decrease But like the turtells faire [ 45] Liue one in two, a well vnited paire, Which that no chaunce may staine,

O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

O heau'n awake shewe forth thy stately face, Let not these slumbring clowds thy beawties hide, [ 5] But with thy cheerefull presence helpe to grace The honest Bridegroome, and the bashfull Bride, Whose loues may euer bide, Like to the Elme and Vyne, With mutuall embracements them to twyne: [ 10] In which delightfull paine, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

Yee Muses all which chaste affects allow, And haue to Thyrsis shewd your secret skill, [ 15] To this chaste loue your sacred fauours bow, And so to him and her your giftes distill, That they all vice may kill: And like to lillies pure May please all eyes, and spotlesse may endure. [ 20] Where that all blisse may raigne, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

Yee Nymphes which in the waters empire haue, Since Thyrsis musick oft doth yeeld you praise, [ 25] Graunt to the thing which we for Thyrsis craue. Let one time (but long first) close vp their daies, One graue their bodies seaze: And like two riuers sweete, When they though diuers do together meete: [ 30] One streame both streames containe, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

Pan, father Pan, the god of silly sheepe, Whose care is cause that they in number growe, [ 35] Haue much more care of them that them do keepe, Since from these good the others good doth flowe, And make their issue showe In number like the hearde Of yonglings, which thy selfe with loue hast rearde. [ 40] Or like the drops of raine. O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

Vertue (if not a God) yet Gods chiefe parte, Be thou the knot of this their open vowe, [ 45] That still he be her head, she be his harte, He leane to her, she vnto him do bow: Each other still allow:

Like Oke and Mistletoe. Her strength from him, his praise from her do growe. In which most louely traine, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

[ 5]

But thou foule Cupid syre to lawlesse lust, Be thou farre hence with thy empoyson'd darte, Which though of glittring golde, shall heere take rust Where simple loue, which chastnesse doth imparte, Auoydes thy hurtfull arte, [ 10] Not needing charming skill, Such mindes with sweet affections for to fill, Which being pure and plaine, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

[ 15]

All churlish wordes, shrewd answeres, crabbed lookes, All priuatenes, selfe-seeking, inward spite, All waywardnes, which nothing kindly brookes, All strife for toyes, and clayming masters right: Be hence aye put to flight, [ 20] All sturring husbands hate Gainst neighbors good for womanish debate Be fled as things most vaine, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

[ 25]

All peacock pride, and fruites of peacocks pride Longing to be with losse of substance gay With retchlesnes what may thy house b••tide, So that you may on hyer slippers stay For euer hence awaye: [ 30] Yet let not sluttery, The sinke of filth, be counted huswifery: But keeping holesome meane, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

[ 35]

But aboue all away vile iealousie, The euill of euils iust cause to be vniust, (How can he loue suspecting treacherie? How can she loue where loue cannot win trust?) Goe snake hide thee in dust, [ 40] Ne dare once shew thy face, Where open hartes do holde so constant place, That they thy sting restraine, O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.

[ 45]

The earth is deckt with flowers, the heau'ns displaid, Muses graunt guiftes, Nymphes long and ioyned life,

Pan store of babes, vertue their thoughts well staid, Cupids lust gone, and gone is bitter strife, Happy man, happy wife. No pride shall them oppresse, [ 5] Nor yet shall yeeld to loathsome sluttishnes, And iealousie is slaine: For Himen will their coupled ioyes maintaine.

[ 10] Truly Dicus, sayd Nico, although thou didst not graunt me the price the last day, when vndoubtedly I wan it, yet must I needes say, thou for thy parte hast soong well and thriftelie. Pas straight desired all the companie they would beare wit∣nes, that Nico had once in his life spoken wisely; for sayde he, I will tell it his fa∣ther, who will be a glad man when he heares such newes. Very true, sayd Nico, [ 15] but indeede so would not thine in like case, for he would looke thou shouldest liue but one houre longer, that a discreate word wandred out of thy mouth. And I pray thee (sayd Pas) gentle Nico, tell me what mischaunce it was that brought thee to taste so fine a meate? Mary goodman blockhead sayde Nico, because hee speakes against iealousie, the filthie traytor to true affection, and yet disguising [ 20] it selfe in the rayment of loue. Sentences, Sentences, cried Pas. Alas howe ripe witted these young folkes be now adayes! But well counselled shall that husband be, when this man commes to exhort him not to be iealous. And so shall he, aunswered Nico, for I haue seene a fresh example, though it be not very fit to be knowen. Come, come, sayde Pas, be not so squeamish, I knowe thou longest more to tell it, then we to heare it. But for all his wordes Nico would not be∣stowe [ 25] his voyce till he was generally entreated of all the rest. And then with a merry marriage looke, he sang this following discourse, for with a better grace he could sing then tell.

[ 30] A Neighbor mine not long agoe there was, (But namelesse he, for blamelesse he shall be) That married had a trick and bonny lasse As in a sommer day a man might see: But he himselfe a foule vnhansome groome, [ 35] And farre vnfit to hold so good a roome.

Now whether mou'd with selfe vnworthines, Or with her beawtie fit to make a pray, Fell iealousie did so his braine oppresse, [ 40] That if he absent were but halfe a day, He gest the worst (you wot what is the worst) And in himselfe new doubting causes nurst.

While thus he fear'd the silly innocent, [ 45] Who yet was good, because she knewe none ill, Vnto his house a iollie shepeheard went, To whome our prince did beare a great good will,

Because in wrestling and in pastorall He farre did passe the rest of Shepheards all.

And therefore he a courtier was benamed, And as a courtier was with cheere receaued, [ 5] (For they haue toongs to make a poore man blamed. If he to them his dutie misconceaued) And for this Courtier should well like his table, The goodman bad his wife be seruiceable.

[ 10]

And so she was, and all with good intent, But fewe dayes past while she good maner vs'de, But that her husband thought her seruice bent To such an end as he might be abus'de. Yet like a coward fearing strangers pride, [ 15] He made the simple wench his wrath abide.

With chumpish lookes, hard words, and secret nips, Grumbling at her when she his kindnes sought, Asking her how she tasted Courtiers lips, [ 20] He forst her thinke that which she neuer thought. In fine he made her gesse, there was some sweet In that which he so fear'd that she should meet.

When once this entred was, in womans hart, [ 25] And that it had enflam'd a new desire, There rested then, to play a womans part, Fuell to seeke and not to quench the fire: But (for his iealous eye she well did finde) She studied cunning how the same to blinde. [ 30]

And thus she did. One day to him she came, And (though against his will) on him she leand, And out gan cry, ah well away for shame, If you helpe not our wedlocke will be staind, [ 35] The goodman starting, askt what did her moue? She sigh'd and sayd, the bad guest sought her loue.

He little looking that she should complaine Of that, whereto he feard she was enclinde, [ 40] Bussing her oft, and in his hart full faine, He did demaunde what remedy to finde; How they might get that guest, from them to wend, And yet the prince (that lou'd him) not offend.

[ 45]

Husband, quoth she, go to him by and by, And tell him you do finde I doo him loue,

And therefore pray him that of courtesie He will absent himselfe, least he should moue A young girles hart, to that were shame for both, Whereto you knowe, his honest harte were loath.

[ 5]

Thus shall you show that him you do not doubt, And as for me (sweete husband) I must beare. Glad was the man when he had heard her out, And did the same, although with mickle feare. [ 10] For feare he did, least he the young man might In choller put, with whom he would not fight.

The Courtlie shepheard much agast at this, Not seeing earst such token in the wife, [ 15] Though full of scorne, would not his duty misse, Knowing that euill becommes a houshold strife, Did goe his way, but soiourn'd neere thereby, That yet the ground hereof he might espie.

[ 20] The wife thus hauing settled husbands braine, Who would haue sworne his spowse Diana was, Watched when she a furder point might gaine, Which little time did fitlie bring to passe. For to the Courte her man was calld by name, [ 25] Whither he needes must goe for feare of blame.

Three dayes before that he must sure depart, She written had (but in a hand disguisde) A letter such which might from either part [ 30] Seeme to proceede, so well it was deuisde. She seald it first, then she the sealing brake, And to her iealous husband did it take.

With weeping eyes (her eyes she taught to weepe) [ 35] She told him that the Courtier had it sent: Alas, quoth she, thus womens shame doth creepe. The goodman read on both sides the content, It title had, Vnto my only loue, Subscription was, Yours most, if you will proue.

[ 40]

The pistle selfe, such kinde of wordes it had, My sweetest ioy, the comfort of my sprite, So may thy flockes encrease thy deere hart glad, So may each thing, euen as thou wishest lighte, [ 45] As thou wilt deigne to reade and gentlie reede This mourning inck, in which my hart doth bleeds.

Long haue I lou'd, (alas thou worthy arte) Long haue I lou'd, (alas loue craueth loue) Long haue I lou'd thy selfe, alas my harte Doth breake, now toong vnto thy name doth moue, And thinke not that thy answere answere is, [ 5] But that it is my doome of bale or blisse.

The iealous wretch must now to Courte be gone: Ne can he faile, for prince hath for him sent: Now is the time we may be here alone, [ 10] And geue a long desire a sweet content. Thus shall you both reward a louer true, And cke reuenge his wrong suspecting you.

And this was all, and this the husband read [ 15] With chafe enough, till she him pacified: Desiring, that no griefe in him he bread Now that he had her words so truely tried: But that he would, to him the letter show That with his fault he might her goodnes know. [ 20]

That streight was done with many a boistrous threat, That to the King, he would his sinne declare, But now the Courtier gan to smell the feate, And with some words which shewed little care, [ 25] He stayd vntill the goodman was departed, Then gaue he him the blow which neuer smarted.

Thus may you see, the iealous wretch was made The Pandare of the thing, he most did feare, [ 30] Take heed therefore, how you ensue that trade, Least the same markes of iealousie you beare. For sure, no iealousie can that preuent, Whereto two parties once be full content.

[ 35]

Behold, sayd Pas, a whole dicker of wit: he hath pickt out such a tale with inten∣tion to keepe a husband from iealosie, which were enough to make a sanctified husband iealous, to see subtleties so much in the feminine gender. But, sayd he, I will strike Nico dead, with the wise words shall flowe out of my gorge. And with∣out further entreatie thus sang. [ 40]

WHo doth desire that chaste his wife should be, First be he true, for truth doth truth deserue: Then such be he, as she his worth may see, And one man still credit with her preserue. [ 45]

Not toying kinde, nor causlesly vnkinde,

Not sturring thoughts, nor yet denying right Not spying faults, nor in plaine errors blinde, Neuer hard hand, nor euer raines too light.

[ 5] As farre from want, as farre from vaine expence, (The one doth force, the later doth entise) Allow good company, but kepe from thence Al filthy mouth's that glory in their vice. This done, thou hast no more, but leaue the rest [ 10] To vertue, fortune, time & womans brest.

Wel cōcluded said Nico, When he hath done al, he leaues the matter to his wiues discretion. Now whensoeuer thou mariest, let her discretion decke thy head with Actaeons ornament, Pas was so angrie with his wish, being in deede towards mari∣age, [ 15] that they might perchaunce haue falne to buffets, but that Dicus desired Philisi∣des (who as a stranger sate among them, reuoluing in his mind al the tempests of euil fortunes hee had passed) that he woulde doe so much grace to the companie, as to sing one of his country songes. Philisides knowing it no good maners to besquemish of his comming, hauing put himself in their company, without further studie began [ 20] to vtter that, wherewith his thoughtes were then (as alwaies) most busied: and to shew what a straunger he was to himselfe, spake of himselfe as of a thirde person, in this sorte.

THe ladd Philisides [ 25] Lay by a riuers side, In flowry fielde a gladder eye to please: His pipe was at his foote His lambs were him besides, A widow turtle neere on bared rootes [ 30] Sate wailing without bootes. Each thing both sweet & sadd Did draw his boyling braine To thinke, & thinke with paine Of Miras beames eclipst by absence bad. [ 35] And thus, with eyes made dimme With teares, he saide, or sorrow said for him. O earth, once answere giue, So may thy stately grace By north, or south still rich adorned liue: [ 40] So Mira Long may be On thy then blessed face, Whose ••oote doth set a heau'n on cursed thee, I aske, now answere me. If th' author of thy blisse [ 45] Phoebus, that shepheard high Do turne from thee his eye, Doth not thy selfe, when he long absent is,

Like Rogue, all ragged goe, And pine away with daily wasting woe? Tell me you wanton brooke, So may your sliding race Shunn lothed-louing bankes with conning crooke: [ 5] So in you euer new Mira may looke her face, And make you faire with shadow of her hue: So when to pay your due To mother sea you come, [ 10] She chide you not for stay, Nor beat you for your play, Tell me if your diuerted springs become Absented quite from you, Are you not dried? Can you your selues renew? [ 15] Tell me you flowers faire Cowslipp & Columbine, So may your Make this wholsome springtime aire With you embraced lie, And lately thence vntwine: [ 20] But with dew dropps engendre children hy: So may you neuer dy, But pulld by Miras hande Dresse bosome hers or hedd, Or scatter on her bedd, [ 25] Tell me, if husband springtime leaue your lande, When he from you is sent, Whither not you, languisht with discontent? Tell me my seely pipe, So may thee still betide [ 30] A clenly cloth thy moistnes for to wipe. So may the cheries redd Of Miras lipps diuide Their sugred selues to kisse thy happy hedd: So may her eares be ledd, [ 35] Her eares where Musique liues, To heare, & not despise The liribliring cries, Tell, if that breath, which thee thy sounding giues, Be absent farre from thee, [ 40] Absent alone canst thou then piping be? Tell me my Lamb of gold, So maist thou long abide The day well fed; the night in faithfull folde: So grow thy wooll of note, [ 45] In time that richly di'de It may be part of Miras peticoate,

Tell me, if wolues the throte Haue cought of thy deare damme, Or she from thee be staide, Or thou from her be straide, [ 5] Canst thou, poore lamme, become anothers lamme? Or rather till thou die Still for thy Dam with bea-waymenting crie? Tell me ô Turtle true, So may no fortune breed [ 10] To make thee nor thy better-loued rue: So may thy blessings swarme That Mira may thee feede With hand & mouth, with lapp & brest keepe warme, Tell me if greedy arme, [ 15] Do fondly take away With traitor lime the one, The other left alone, Tell me poore wretch, parted from wretched pray Disdaine not you the greene, [ 20] Wayling till death shun you not to be seene? Earth, brooke, flowr's, pipe, lambe, Doue Say all, & I with them, Absence is death, or worse, to them that loue. So I vnlucky lad Whome hills from her do hemme, [ 25] What fitts me now but teares, & sighings sadd? O fortune too too badd, I rather would my sheepe Thad'st killed with a stroke, [ 30] Burnt Caban lost my cloke, When want one hower those eyes which my ioyes keepe. Oh! what doth wailing winne? Speeche without ende were better not begin. My song clime thou the winde [ 35] Which holland sweet now gently sendeth in, That on his wings the leauell thou maist finde To hit, but Kissing hit Her ear's the weights of wit. If thou know not for whome thy Master dies, [ 40] These markes shall make thee wise: She is the heardesse faire that shines in darke And giues her kidds no food, but willow's barke. This said, at length he ended, His oft sigh-broken dittie, [ 45] Then raise, but raise on leggs: which faintnes bended, With skinne in sorrow died, With face the plot of pittie,

With thoughts which thoughts their owne tormentors tried, He rase, & streight espied His Ramme, who to recouer The Ewe another loued, With him proud battell proued. [ 5] He enuied such a death in sight of louer, And alwaies westward eying More enuied Phoebus for his westerne flyinge.

The whole company would gladly haue taken this occasion of requesting Phili∣sides [ 10] in plainer sorte to discouer vnto them his estate. Which he willing to preuent (as knowing the relation thereof more fit for funeralles then the time of a mariage) began to sing this song he had learned before he had euer subiected his thoughts to acknowledge no Master, but a Mistresse.

[ 15]

AS I my little flocke on Ister banke (A little flocke; but well my pipe the couthe) Did piping leade, the Sunne already sanke Beyond our worlde, and ere I got my boothe Each thing with mantle black the night doth scothe; [ 20] Sauing the glowe worme, which would curteous be Of that small light oft watching shepheards see.

The welkin had full niggardly enclosed In cofer of dimme clowdes his siluer groates, [ 25] Icleped starres; each thing to rest disposed: The caues were full, the mountaines voide of goates: The birds eyes closd closed their chirping notes. As for the Nightingale woodmusiques King, It August was, he daynde not then to sing. [ 30]

Amid my sheepe, though I sawe nought to feare Yet (for I nothing sawe) I feared sore; Then founde I which thing is a charge to beare As for my sheepe I dradded mickle more [ 35] Then euer for my selfe since I was bore. I sate me downe: for see to goe ne could, And sange vnto my sheepe lest stray they should.

The songe I sange old Lanquet bad me taught, [ 40] Lanquet, the shepheard best swift Ister knewe, For clerkly reed, and hating what is naught, For faithfull hart, cleane hands, and mouth as true: With his sweet skill my skillesse youth he drewe, To haue a feeling iast of him that sitts [ 45] Beyond the heauen, far more beyond your witts.

He said, the Musique best thilke powers pleasd Was iumpe concorde betweene our wit and will: Where highest notes to godlines are raisd, And lowest sinke not downe to iote of ill: [ 5] With old true tales: he woont mine eares to fill, How sheepheards did of yore, how now they thriue, Spoiling their flock, or while twixt them they striue.

He liked me, but pitied lustfull youth: [ 10] His good strong staffe my slippry yeares vpbore: He still hop'd well, because he loued truth; Till forste to parte, with harte and eyes euen sore, To worthy Coriden he gaue me ore, But thus in okes true shade recounted he [ 15] Which now in nights deepe shade sheep heard of me.

Such maner time there was (what time I n'ot) When all this Earth, this damme or mould of ours Was onely won'd with such as beastes begot: [ 20] Vnknowne as then were they that builded towers: The cattell wild, or tame, in natures bowers Might freely rome, or rest, as seemed them: Man was not man their dwellings into hem.

[ 25] The beastes had sure some beastly pollicie: For nothing can endure where order n'is. For once the Lion by the Lambe did lie; The fearefull Hinde the Leopard did kisse: Hurtles was Tygers pawe and Serpents hisse. [ 30] This thinke I well, the beasts with courage clad Like Senators a harmeles empire had.

At which whether the others did repine, (For enuie harbreth most in feeblest hartes) [ 35] Or that they all to chaunging did encline, (As euen in beasts their dammes leaue chaunging partes) The multitude to Ioue a suite empartes, With neighing, blaying, braying, and barking, Roring, and howling for to haue a King.

[ 40]

A King, in language theirs they said they would: (For then their language was a perfect speech) The birdes likewise with chirpes, and puing could Cackling, and chattering, that of Ioue beseech. Onely the owle still warnde them not to seech [ 45] So hastily that which they would repent: But sawe they would, and he to deserts went.

Ioue wisely said (for wisedome wisely sayes) O beasts, take heed what you of me desire. Rulers will thinke all things made them to please, And soone forget the swincke due to their hire, But since you will, part of my heau'nly fire [ 5] I will you lende; the rest your selues must giue, That it both seene and felte may with you liue.

Full glad they were and tooke the naked sprite, Which streight the Earthy clothed in his claye: [ 10] The Lion, harte; the Ounce gaue actiue might; The Horse, good shape; the Sparrow, lust to playe; Nightingale, voice, entising songes to saye. Elephant gaue a perfect memorie: And Parot, ready tongue, that to applie. [ 15]

The Foxe gaue crafte; the Dog gaue flatterie; Asse, pacience; the Mole, a working thought; Eagle, high looke; Wolfe secrete crueltie: Monkie, sweet breath; the Cow, her faire eyes brought; [ 20] The Ermion, whitest skinne, spotted with nought; The sheep, mild-seeming face; climing, the Beare; The Stagge did giue the harme eschewing feare.

The Hare, her sleights; the Cat, his melancholie; [ 25] Ante, industrie; and Connie, skill to builde; Cranes, order; Storkes, to be appearing holie; Camaeleon, ease to chaunge; Ducke, ease to yelde; Crocodile, teares, which might be falsely spilde: Ape great thing gaue, though he did mowing stand, [ 30] The instrument of instruments, the hand.

Ech other beast likewise his present brings: And (but they drad their Prince they ought should want) They all consented were to giue him wings: [ 35] And aye more awe towards him for to plant, To their owne worke this priuiledge they graunt, That from thenceforth to all eternitie, No beast should freely speake, but onely he.

[ 40]

Thus Man was made; thus Man their Lord became: Who at the first, wanting, or hiding pride, He did to beastes best vse his cunning frame; With water drinke, herbes meate, and naked hide, And fellow-like let his dominion slide; [ 45] Not in his sayings saying I, but we: As if he meant his lordship common be.

But when his seate so rooted he had found, That they now skilld not, how from him to wend; Then gan in guiltlesse earth full many a wound, Iron to seeke, which gainst it selfe should bend, [ 5] To teare the bowels, that good corne should send. But yet the common Damme none did bemone; Because (though hurt) they neuer heard her grone.

Then gan the factions in the beastes to breed; [ 10] Where helping weaker sort, the nobler beastes, (As Tygers, Leopards, Beares, and Lions seed) Disdaind with this, in deserts sought their restes; Where famine rauine taught their hungrie chestes, That craftily he forst them to do ill, [ 15] Which being done he afterwards would kill.

For murthers done, which neuer erst was seene, By those great beastes, as for the weakers good, He chose themselues his guarders for to bene, [ 20] Gainst those of might, of whom in feare they stood, As horse and dogge, not great, but gentle blood: Blith were the commons cattell of the fielde, Tho when they saw their foen of greatnes kilde.

[ 25] But they or spent, or made of slender might, Then quickly did the meaner cattell finde, The great beames gone, the house on shoulders light: For by and by the horse faire bitts did binde: The dogge was in a coller taught his kinde. [ 30] As for the gentle birds like case might rewe When faloon they, and gossehauke saw in mewe.

Worst fell to smallest birds, and meanest heard, Whom now his owne, full like his owne he vsed. [ 35] Yet first but wooll, or fethers off he teard: And when they were well vs'de to be abused, For hungrie teeth their flesh with teeth he brused: At length for glutton taste he did them kill: At last for sport their sillie liues did spill.

[ 40]

But yet ô man, rage not beyond thy neede: Deeme it no glorie to swell in tyrannie. Thou art of blood; ioy not to see things bleede: Thou fearest death; thinke they are loth to die. A plaint of guiltlesse hurt doth pierce the skie. [ 45] And you poore beastes, in patience bide your hell, Or know your strengths, and then you shall do well.

Thus did I sing, and pipe eight sullen houres To sheepe, whom loue, not knowledge, made to heare, Now fancies fits, now fortunes balefull stowers: But then I homewards call'd my lambkins deare: For to my dimmed eyes began t' appeare [ 5] The night growne old, her blacke head waxen gray, Sure shepherds signe, that morne should soone fetch day.

ACcording to the nature of diuerse cares, diuerse iudgements streight followed: some praising his voice, others his words fit to frame a pastorall stile, others [ 10] the strangenes of the tale, and scanning what he should meane by it. But old Geron (who had borne him a grudge euer since in one of their Eclogues he had taken him vp ouer-bitterly) tooke hold of this occasion to make his reuenge, and sayd, He neuer saw thing worse proportioned, then to bring in a tale of he knewe not what beastes at such a sport-meeting, when rather some song of loue, or matter for [ 15] ioyfull melody was to be brought forth. But, said he, This is the right conceipt of young men, who thinke, then they speake wiseliest, when they cannot vnderstand themselues. But little did the melancholike shepherd regard either his dispraises, or the others praises, who had set the foundation of his honour there; where he was most despised. And therefore he returning againe to the traine of his desolate [ 20] pensiuenesse, Geron inuited Histor to answere him in Eclogue-wise; who indeed hauing bene long in loue with the faire Kala, and now by Lalus ouergone; was growne into a detestation of mariage. But thus it was.

Geron. Histor. [ 25]

Geron.

In faith, good Histor, long is your delay, From holy marriage sweete and surest meane: Our foolish lust in honest rules to stay. I pray thee doo to Lalus sample leane: [ 30] Thou seest, how friske, and iolly now he is, That last day seem'd, he could not chew a beane. Beleeue me man, there is no greater blisse, Then is the quiet ioy of louing wife; Which who so wants, halfe of himselfe doth misse. [ 35] Friend without change, playfellow without strife, Foode without fulnes, counsaile without pride, Is this sweet doubling of our single life.

Histor.

No doubt to whom so good chance did betide, [ 40] As for to finde a pasture strawed with golde, He were a foole, if there he did not bide. Who would not haue a Phoenix if he could? The humming Waspe, if it had not a sting, Before all flies the Waspe accept I would. But this bad world, few golden fieldes doth bring, [ 45] Phoenix but one, of Crowes we millions haue:

The Waspe seemes gay, but is a combrous thing. If many Kalaes our Arcadias gaue, Lalus example I would soone ensue, And thinke, I did my selfe from sorrow saue. [ 5] But of such wiues we finde a slender crew; Shrewdnes so stirres, pride so puffes vp the hart, They seldome ponder what to them is due. With meager lookes, as if they still did smart; Puiling, and whimpring, or else scolding flat, [ 10] Make home more paine then following of the cart. Either dull silence, or eternall chat; Still contrarie to what her husband sayes; If he do praise the dog, she likes the cat. Austere she is, when he would honest playes; [ 15] And game some then, when he thinkes on his sheepe; She bids him goe, and yet from iorney stayes. She warre doth euer with his kinsfolke keepe, And makes them fremb'd, who friends by nature are, Enuying shallow toyes with malice deepe. [ 20] And if forsooth there come some new found ware, The little coine his sweating browes haue got, Must goe for that, if for her lowres he care: Or els; Nay faith, mine is the lucklest lot, That euer fell to honest woman yet: [ 25] No wife but I hath such a man, God wot. Such is their speech, who be of sober wit; But who doo let their tongues shew well their rage, Lord, what bywords they speake, what spite they spit? The house is made a very lothsome cage, [ 30] Wherein the birde doth neuer sing but cry; With such a will as nothing can asswage. Dearely the seruants doo their wages buy, Reuil'd for ech small fault, sometimes for none: They better liue that in a gaile doo lie. [ 35] Let other fowler spots away be blowne; For I seeke not their shame, but still me thinkes, A better life it is to lye alone.

Geron.

Who for ech fickle feare from vertue shrinkes, [ 40] Shall in his life embrace no worthy thing: No mortall man the cuppe of suretie drinkes. The heau'ns doo not good haps in handfuls bring, But let vs pike our good from out much bad: That still our little world may know his king. [ 45] But certainly so long we may be glad, While that we doo what nature doth require, And for th'euent we neuer ought be sad.

Man oft is plag'de with aire, is burnt with fire, In water drownd•• in earth his buriall is; And shall we not therefore their vse desire? Nature aboue all things requireth this, That we our kind doo labour to maintaine; [ 5] Which drawne-out line doth hold all humane blisse. Thy father iustly may of thee complaine, If thou doo not repay his deeds for thee, In granting vnto him a grandsires gaine. Thy common-wealth may rightly grieued be, [ 10] Which must by this immortall be preserued, If thus thou murther thy posteritie. His very being he hath not deserued, Who for a selfe-conceipt will that forbeare, Whereby that being aye must be conserued. [ 15] And God forbid, women such cattell were, As you paint them: but well in you I finde, No man doth speake aright, who speakes in feare. Who onely sees the ill is worse then blind. These fiftie winters maried haue I beene; [ 20] And yet finde no such faults in womankind. I haue a wife worthie to be a Queene, So well she can command, and yet obay; In ruling of a house so well shee's seene. And yet in all this time betwixt vs tway, [ 25] We beare our double yoke with such consent, That neuer past foule word, I dare well say. But these be your loue-toyes, which still are spent In lawlesse games, and loue not as you should, But with much studie learne late to repent. [ 30] How well last day before our Prince you could Blinde Cupids workes with wonder testifie? Yet now the roote of him abase you would. Goe to, goe to, and Cupid now applie To that where thou thy Cupid maist auowe, [ 35] And thou shalt finde, in women vertue lie. Sweet supple mindes which soone to wisdome bowe Where they by wisdomes rule directed are, And are not forst fonde thraldome to allow. As we to get are fram'd, so they to spare: [ 40] We made for paine, our paines they made to cherish: We care abroad, and they of home haue care. O Histor, seeke within thy selfe to flourish: Thy house by thee must liue, or els be gone: And then who shall the name of Histor nourish? [ 45] Riches of children passe a Princes throne; Which touch the fathers hart with secret ioy,

When without shame he saith, these be mine owne. Marrie therefore; for marriage will destroy Those passions which to youthfull head doo clime, Mothers and Nurses of all vaine annoy.

[ 5]

He spake these wordes with such affection, as a curious eye might easilie haue perceyued he liked Thyrsis fortune better then he loued his person. But then in deede did all arise, and went to the women, where spending all the day, and good part of the night in dauncing, carolling, and wassaling. Lastly, they left [ 10] Thyrsis, where he long desired to be left, and with many vnfayned thankes retur∣ned euerie man to his home. But some of them hauing to crosse the way of the two Lodges, might see a Ladie making dolefull lamentations ouer a bodie which seemed dead vnto them. But me thinkes Damaetas cries vnto me, if I come not the sooner to comfort him, he will leaue off his golden worke that hath alreadie [ 15] cost him so much labour and longing.

The ende of the third Booke.

[ 20] [ 25] [ 30] [ 35] [ 40] [ 45]