The historie of Ariodanto and Ieneura, daughter to the King of Scottes, in English verse, by Peter Beuerley

Ariodanto, and Ieneura.

AMongst the vanquisht Regions, that worthy brute did winne: There is a soyle in these our dayes, with Occean Seas cloasde in. That fertile is, and peopled well, and stord with pleasant fieldes: And hath for tillage lucky land, that yeerly profit yeeldes. Within y^• land sometime ther dwelt a King of noble fame: whose actes wer such, as gaind to him an euerlasting name. Who, when he Cepter long had held and ruled his realme with right: In quiet rest, in spight of foe, and force of friendles might. Did take to wife a noble Dame, of egall Parentage: Of bewty great, of vertues more, and of a youthfull age. By whom he had a Daughter fayre, that ••oyed his aged yeares: And plesure great at length did bring vnto his hoary heares. This child as tune gan passe frō her, so bewty doth increase: And as in yeeres she gan to grow so vertues to her prease. Of sh••p•• and séemly fauour, she lackt nought that nature could In goodli••st wise bestow of her. or frame in fayrest mould.

To this such giftes of heauenly hew, full fraught with courtly grace: And modest mirth, eke gentle mynd ••re••aging royall race. That who excels Ieneuora. (for so this Lady hight:) Or who more bewtifull then she, or pleasde more eche sight. For proufe behould how swift report doth brute in forren land: This Princes name, her shape & hew of eche estate is scand. The Kings that ioyne vnto her syre, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 séeke her grace to winne: The Ladies eke that vertues loue, to serue her grace beginne. But see farre of in Italie this Ladies name is blown: And ther her gifts of n••turs art, to all are liuely known. Where at that time two gentlemen of honest family: Italians both by birth and bloud and brothers there did lie. The eldest namd Lurcanio, that speare and sheld desird: The other eke Ariodant, that more to loue aspierd. These two y^• long had liued at home, and loth•• with Idle life: And moued eke with this report, that euery where is rife.

Are now agréed to leaue this ease, theyr frendes and natiue soyle: And minde to seke aduentures farre with wery trauels toyle. And therfore first their land they sel, for present paiment tould: And other goods they do conuert, (for cariage light) to gould. This don, their busines eke dispatcht and heuy parting past: From wailing friends that wo their wil, they leaue the towne at last. And passe y^• mountainshie vnknown and seke the desert dales: And scape by guyde the raggy rocks and tread the trodden vales. Thus when theyr werie steps had scapte, a thousand daungers past: And that they néedes must leaue the land, and yeld to sayle and mast. To Neptunes wil they doo commit them selues, and then do pray: The maister for to guide his shippe, to Scottish Realme the way. So said, he kéepes his bidden course, and hath a gale at will: The mariner at case also, his part doth well fulfill. So long these werie trauelers, are tost with sea and winde: That now the long desired port, and wyshed soyle they finde.

Then nought there is but hale and pull, the Ancars are out cast: The maister hath his earned hyre, and prayes their life longe last. This don, the brothers aske the way that leadeth to the Court: wheras the noble king of Scottes, doth kéepe his Royall port. Which known, with speede they séeke to sée, and in theyr ••rauell, they deuise their tale, theyr whole request and chieflye, how they may Get intertainment in the Court, and how Lurcani••: Should spokeman be for both, but sée whilst talking thus they go, The wau••ring vanes of gleming golde, that Phebus cau••ed to shine: App••re, and ••••ard vp walles on hie, that sed theyr gredy eyen. They sée the carued turrets tops, they see the regall place: The fight wherof had forst them run a wery wandring race. Thus are these straungers happely, arriued at the Court, Wheras this péerles Dame abides, of whome ringes this report. There walke they forth with comly grace and enter in the hall, Where after greating, they declare, what chaunce had them befall.

To séeke that lande: their names they tel, and eke of whe••ce they are: This tould, one shewes vnto the king of two ariued theare. And woord for woord, as he had hard he tells, and eke there state And comlines he hideth not: Besides he doth dilate. Their friendly gretings, and their tal•• this sayde, he kneling staies. The king that pawsing with him selfe, and waying diuers wayes, What harme mought lightly him ensue, if such he should retaine, As vnder cloke of frendship, mought put him and his to payne: I meane as mought spye out the strength of all his region: And eke what corner weakest weare, and easiest to be wonne. And so when ••e in age should thinke, to leade a surest lyfe: They should him force through their dece•• to ende his daies in strife. These thoughts, this wise and warie pri••e, doth ponder in his braine Long tyme, and in these doughtfull fitts, he silent doth remaine. Yet mindes he not to let them part, till what they would were knowen: And till the cause of their ariue, were plainely to him showen.

Wherfore he doth bid call to him, these straungers twoo in haste: That banisht haue their natiue soile, in his court to be plast. Which message done, these brothers two, as men nothing dismaied: To speake before the Emperour, whom earst they had obeied. Present themselues before the king, wher after silence done: Lurcamo in their two names, thus hath his tale begonne. THat king, that first gaue life to you, increase your happie daies: (Oh king) and kéepe your noble court, from force of foes alwayes. Whilest we Italian brothers two, in Italy dyd dwell: And whilste with ease we past the time, as chaunce and t••es befet. Behould report that wandring flies, in euery region: Resound your name and worthines, at last vnto the towne Wher we abode consuming time in drousie idelnes: And spending aye our youthful yeres in irksum quietnes. These childish toies thus lothd (I say) these newes agreing eke with vs, that thought ech day a mōth till we the bands mought breke.

Of this long discontented lyfe, we doo forthwith agrée All needfull things at home dispatcht, this court of yours to sée And there if we mought fauor get, and grace likewise obtaine: To serue your highnes faithfully, and loyall to remaine: Til death we minde. This forst hath vs (O king) to leaue our port: Our frēds, our goods, our kinsmen al to whom we were comfort. In hope to be retaind of you, which is our whole request: Wherin we trust for to performe, that seemes a courtier best. The king that wel had markt his tale his countnaunce and his grace: And saw him feawtred well of lim•• and of a warlike face. And praysing long within him selfe, the yongest brothers chere: That sober was presaging truth, forthwith doth banish feare. And biddes these wery trauelers, welcome vnto the place Desired long. And intertaines, them both with friendly grace. Into his court, commaunding them, all falshood to expell: And geues them pencions yerely, wherwith they may liue well.

Thus are these glad Italians, new courtiers both become: That seeke eche way to purchase loue as well of all as some. THe king that for disport doth vse, oft times for to pursue: The dreadfull ••ase of gris••ie beastes, so Idle lyfe t'eschue: Comma••nds the hunt prepared be, the morow next by prime: And that eche one appareld be, in armes against that tyme, To waite vpon his highnes then that will on h••nting go: And eke with him the strangers two he doth commaund also. The night is past, and Sopor flies, and in his stéede Aurore Doth shew hir gladsome countenāce and for to ioy the more Eche sight, ••r Phebus golden raies, from east beginnes tappeare, then nought ther is within the court, but trud••ing here and there. Sum saddels fit, sum armour scoure sum bridell foming steede: And sum do wheat the stéeled glaiue to giue the Beare his meede. Sum trapers trim, sum couple dogs sum weare in s••eede of steele, A maled coate, with armed sword, to make his enmies reele.

The pages trimme theyr lords in haste, the hunt cries lowde away: The steedes are foorth, that stamping fast, on champing bit do play. The werbling note the hunter blowes, the king on courser strydes: The lusty rought of knights make hast, that pri••ing forward glydes. The hunt is vp, the game is founde, eche seekes a diuers waye: The noble rought of Che••alrie, dispersed now doo stray. Some here do méete the tusked bore some findes the Lyberd stout: Some do encounter with the Beare some rouse of Harts a route. Thus dog and man is occupied, him selfe for to defend: And for to gaine a lasting name, doo stu••die strokes foorth send. The king in case hath lost his mates, and in his wandring, hée Findes, out a lothsome Lion coucht that monstrous was to sée. wherto he makes a thundring course with speare well set in rest: the Lyon rampant méetes the staffe, that it to sheuers brest. Then glaiue he drawes like noble knight, and strikes with courage stout: And prickes, and breathes, and strikes again, as one deuoide of double,

But all in vayne those strokes are spent his traunchfer, nought doth carue, But either slydes from side to side, or in his hand doth Swar••e. Wher at, he halfe agast doth feare, least he were put to shame: And least his former worthines, should ende with vanquisht name. Wherfore he mightely defends him selfe from Lions clawes, That rasethall attayned to with those his persing pawes. Yet warely warding sith he could nothing preuaile in strength, But ward, & stroke, are bootles spent when down he must at length. Thus as the Lion had the best, and almost won the féelde: Aduenture droue Lurcanio with Speare in hand and shéelde To seek•• that place, but when he saw his soueraigne at the wurst, No boote to byd him spurre his stéed•• and to the battell thrust. For first he knightly brake his spear•• and after drawes his blade, wherwith within a moments space, a large wound he had made, Upon the Lions shoulder bone, that caused him for to knéel••: And then his head he carued of and so made him to r••l••:

The king deliuered thus from death, by s••out ••urcanio, With thousand thankes imbrased him in both his armes also. Tyll that his menn•• had 〈◊〉〈◊〉 him out, to whom he hidetu nought: But how he nigh confounded was, and how the straun••er fought. In his defence so 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and with so mightie fo••ce, That after many mortall woundes, he parted head from dorse. Now is report n••w occupied, in blasing martiall ••••ates: Wherwith the court so pressed is, that vp to Skies it beates. And flies to towne both farre and 〈◊〉〈◊〉: and nowe ascendes againe, And putteth fame to w••rie t••yle, and to an endles payne. But to returne, the king is ho••st, that doth for wer••es: Leaue of the chase, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 homeward all theyr diuers happes e••presse. Thus talking, are these hunters ••••me vnto the Pa••••as gates. Where eche disarmes his werie bone••, and welcomes home his mates. There nought is talkt within the Court, but of the straungers might And how he nobli•• saude their liege, and kild his foe in fight.

The Ladies doo extoll this act, vp to the cloudie skies: The knightes by heap••s of his great strokes doo diuersiy d••uise. The night renewes his carefull course, ••itanis lodgd in west, All seeke their soft and quiet bed their wery bones to rest. Ariodant (that longs to see this long desired Dame) Is also coucht in tumbling bed, where he records her name. A thousand times, & thus consumes halfe Iunos wanny race: And if ••e sl••pe, he dreams strait ways of that most heauenly face. The Cock crowes forth his dawning note: the day starres showes in east, The Nightingale the gladsem tunes sings out with chéerfull brest. The courtiers rise that vse dispor••es, as pleaseth best their will, Some Hanks reclayme, some Coursers ride and some do daunce their fill. Some is ye in reading Histori••s, and se•••• in Musikes art, Thus time is spent in comly sports, as pleaseth best their hart. Now is the King at dinner set, there waytes Ariodant, That is the siem••i••st of them all, and one that no••ght doth want.

Of natures craft, by whom the King doth send a couerd mease: To Princes faire Ieneuora, that is his lifes increase. This message doth Ariodant, performe in seemliest wies: Who kn••••ling doth the cates present before her crist••ll eyes. The Lady thanks the messenger, and giues him in reward: A costly gem, which he receiues, but nought he doth regard. The gift so much, as that her looke, which is so fixt in hart: That from that time he holds it fast, till lyfe from lims doo part. And she againe (that marked hath so well his comly face: His shape, his vew, his countnance graue, and eke his semely grace.) Sayes in her hart this same is he whom I in brest will shrine: Till sisters three with fatall réele my vitall webbe vntwine. Thus Venus child hath tainted two with his sharpe persing dart: And yet vnknowen to both it is, how eche ioyes others hart. Ariodant that clokes (•• say) this hote new kindled fire: (His dutie done) departs agayne, with gayne of double hire.

And makes his wayting very short, and thunnes the tast of meate, And to his chamber hi••ss in hast, to coole his scorching heate: Ther doth he oft record her talke, he sées her similing cheare, He sées those colours angellyke, h•• sées her ••listring heare. He viewes (he thinkes) those Rubic libb••s that thankt him for his payne, He féeles (he thinkes) those azurd vaynes that gaue him that great gayne: But when he sées he is deceiud, a thousand sighes departe, With flouds of teares, and d••adly sobbe•• out from his carefull ha••t. And thus begins a long discours of this new t••sted fit, Which as I can I shall declare, thou Pa••ias guide my ••it. From whence proceedes this ••inching payne, and griefes of deadly smart? Orel•• what ••ct hath c••aunged thus (oh soole) thy ioyfull hart, That thus thou lothst those pleasant sports, that here in Court are vse, And seekst a drousi•• caban touch thy wonted myrth refuse? Tell what hath made this soden chaunge, bewray these griefes of minde, The pacient, when the wound is gréene? a salue doth soonest finde.

A salue Alas•• it is booteles wynd, Its d••ath that must me cure: My wound doth festred lye in hart, and will till life endure. (Oh foole) that so wert fed with fame, such toyle to vndertake For her, that nought doth rue thy care, ne sorowes none will make. For thee, and yet shée is the cause, that thus thou doest susteine, These griping griefes of grisly death which will foraye remayne. Oh cr••ell happe and destenie, oh wight vnfortunate, Oh catiue vile, vnhappe thrise, and borne to cruell fate. What ioy did take thy idell brayne, when thou didst sée her face, Thus to be trapt with heapes of griefe in so short time and space. Oh Cokadrill of Uenus shape why hast thou thus beguild? The wyght, that for thy fame him selfe from nature soile exyld. But how is that knowen vnto her whom blameles I accuse? Or why should I vnciuill beast that worthie shape abuse? Whose outward shewe presageth truth, and store of courtesie, As lately by her great reward was showd sufficiently.

No, no, it is he that workes my woe, who forceth Kinges to loue, That bl••••dly shotes his peysned dart from stately throne aboue. That Cupide stroke mis••celes ghost full well I know, when I Beheld that goodly countenaunce, with two fast persing eye. Wherfore his dome I must obey, though loue venegall be: And though I spend my youthfull dayes in this vile misery. This dolefull tale, thus ••ould, the teares procéede from swelling eyes: By streames, and now the gréeuous grons increase his wofull cries. Now hope reu••ues his dying limmes, dispayre now driues in death: And now doth feare make sences faile, and stoppe his vitall breath. Thus long he spends a lingring lyfe, and craues a happy day: Or els he wils by gréedy graue, his last fate for to pray. But to speake of Ieneuora. and to recount her ••ittes: And how in closet she doth fare, as one ber••ued of wittes: My pen shuld rather meisture want to write that I intend: Then store of cares for to dilate, that would whole volumes spend.

For after she had knowen his name, and how an aliant borne He was, her hart began to coole, as one welny forlorne. And thus with faultring tounge shée sayd, why sekest thou lenger life: That by this ••ct deseruest death, with point of bloudy knife. Oh catiue vyle, and vylest wretch, that liueth vnder skyes: And may not race of Royall bloud, thy foolish mynd suffice? Nor noble lyne of Scottish soyle wher thou mayst chuse a feare: Thy childish will at full content, but thou must hold him deare. That hath throgh theft exild him selfe or els by murdring hand: Estrangd him from his earlish kin, and now séeks forren lande? Wilt thou assotted be of him, that like a wandring slaue: Is come vnto thy fathers court, some liuelihood to haue? What, seekst thou to shame thy selfe, and to abuse thy kinne? And myndst thou thus to purchase hate, in hope a slaue to winne. A slaue. Oh spitefull sting of hate, for Ladies farre vnfitte: Why doo I thus with poysned words, misuse my praysed wit.

Why should I terme him felon eke that is so gratious: Or els of murder him accuse that is so curteous? Wh•• do I liue to call him slaue that is the comliest wight, That euer scapte from natures handes or euer past my sight? And if that lackt, his brothers déede would show his race right well, Whose worthie rescue of the King doth make his name excell. Therfore as I am Princesse true, I vo••n Ariodant. By him that Skies and Earth did frame•• and trees and herbes did plant, Til lise doth leaue my careful corpse to loue thee faithfullie, As euer Lady loued her féere, in spite of vyle aduersitie. She sayd, and down to ground she falles in sound, and drawes no breath Long time, as one that had re••ind her life to wished death. And when she doth reuiue againe, the stilling teares depart Like siluer droppes from drowned ••yes, and gastlie sighes from hart. Thus leaues she Ladies companie, and shunnes eche kind of sport, In stéed wherof, to desert walkes, shée dayly doth resort.

Where sundrie thoughts opresse her mind: now feare for to obtayne Like loue of him, for whom she doth, these passions hard susteine: And now the Kings consent she feares, whose hest she must obey, And eke whose mynd is chiefly bent tencrease her slate eche way. These arguments full fraught with doubt are rise within hir brayne, And if she finde one pleasant thought a thousand griefes remayne. Like fittes doo saint Ariodant, that wandring here and there: Can finde no plare to case his paine, nor damp his doughts of feare. Wherfore his blo••d consumes away, his sleshe to boanes doo fade, His colour whan as clod of clay most like a senslesse shade. The youthfull sutes which earst he ware vnworne doo ••ye in chest, And now the black and tawny hew doth please this heauy gest. In fine, these fittes so much annoye his wery irksum life: That now he seekes vnhappie man, to fall on persing knife. Lurcanio, that marks this change, and sees with woo this state: And feares least that he mought be wayle his brothers grief•• to late.

Spies out at length both tyme, and place, for to discharge his mynde To him, and listing tare required, spends thus his boteles winde. HOw long shall these consuming fittes increase thy brothers g••iefe: From whom (vnkind) thou hidst thy cares, th••t seekes for thy reliefe. What meaues (I say) these p••ning paines, whence springs these sluddes of care: What feuer fit hath forced thee, thus ruth••ully to fare? Why speakest thou not? why stayes thy toūg disclose thy long disease. And wylt thou thus with shortning dayes the heauenly ghostes displease? If sicknes do opresse thy corps, then physicks counsel vse, If fond conceytes of matters past, do forse thee for to muse, And shun the ioyes that here be vsed, then seeke swete musikes art, Which wil (they say) all heauy dumps, to ioyfull fittes conuart. Perhaps the apre of this land, thy nature doth dytest: And makes thee thus to féele disease, and taste vnquiet rest. If that it be, no feare of death, tyme wyll weare that away, As earstit did, when in the Sea•• this part we learnd to play.

But what doth meane this mourning w••eds and loths••me tawnic hew, As though thou hadst thy fredom lost, to serue fond Uenus crewe. If so thou hast, aduise thee well, so choyse be egall plaste, Beware in tyme, shunne froward dame, least wind, and woords be west. By proufe I say (my brother) I, this lesson short is trewe. The Faulkner seld is suer of Hauke, till she be close in mewe. Therfore let wittes be guid to déedes, thou warnd mayst learn to lyue, Shun thraldoms yocke thy brother biddes, that doth this councell giue. Ariodant that hard this speache, but reason nought estéemed, With strayned voice thus answer made, as one with care consumd, (As you haue sayd my brother deare) a lethsome lyfe I leade, But whēce, or wher, or he wit comes tis h•••• from me in deede. No qua••taine fit hath freated me, ne fury fond of mynd, Ne change of skyes, but gods aboue, th•••• ••lage haue iust assingd, For my fore passed dayes in sinne, wherfore let this content, Thy doutfull head, sith iust it is which Ioue himselfe hathsent.

Think you these toyes of veneire •• should lodg•• within my braine: Or Ladies loue in hope to win, should make me thus sustaine Those s••orching griefes, and pyning paines. and storm•• of deadly smart? No, no, those fittes most ferdest be from my vnskilfull heart. Wherfore, in 〈◊〉〈◊〉, I thus conclude, as sinne did smart deserue, So Ioue that high and mightie God, from pitie will not swerue. This answer made, ••urcanio d••parts with pleased mind, Now de••ing least but word for word as he had hard to find. Ariodant (that nought was moued to leaue his wanted woes. For brothers words to whom his loue he hates for to disclose) Doth still consume a wery lyfe, with endles griping payne, And dayly feare augments his doole least loue be voud in vayne. Besides thinks he, if she should yelde like loue to my desert: And then by loue vnegall we should foresed ••e to part: These eyes should neuer s••e againe the rayes of Titans lyght, But poyson strong, or bathed blade, my desprat death should dight.

But yet if she would rue my care, I ••orst not Princely might: For rather then the loue should slacke•• we suro would make a flight. And better it is in my conce••t, to liue in pouer••ie With ioye, then in these cancred car••s, to t••st flouddes of prosperitie. For i••ye bryngs health to aged limmes, when cares consume the corse, And ioy doth make l••ng lyfe to men, when couples care deuorse. What profits welth to ••yu•• in woe, what gyines possessi••ns great, When heart is ve••t continually with cares of firie heat? The best and happie state I count in this vnstable lyfe: Is pleasure plast with quietnes. denoyde of stormes of stryfe. Should we then let in hope to finde this wi••h•••• ••••litie To leaue a Princ•••••• Pallas fraught with this ••yle miserie. And ist not better tayle for ••ence with willyng sweat of browe, And laboryng hand to dyg and d••lue. or els to dryu•• the plowe: And then when labour finisht is to sit by t••sting fyre: And sing, and why••••le mirely, with gaine of earned hyre?

Then here in court to goe as braue, as rayes of glistryng Sunne: And haue a hart that dayly seekes, his vital breath to shunne? Besides what shame can turn to vs, to liue in soyle not known: For banisht wights, but laboring soules, to toyle to keepe our owne. Oh that these woords mought once procede from those thy rub••e ••ippes: Whos•• countnance, shape, and comlines, hath forst me feele these fittes. For at the least till thou shalt take some pitie of my care: These grie••s, & pāgs of wished death my ghost wil neuer spare. Thus makes his faltring tengue an end, and he on tumblyng bed Doth cast his weake and wery lyins, whe•• now from troubled ••ead Doth passe, & soft & slumbring ••••cape. and now in dreame appeare, Two ladies dect with robes of gould that purpu•• haue do weare: Upon their heads two crowns they had, well set with precious stone, And in their hand Ieneuora, that semd to make great mone. Thus past they soorth with stately steps, and now approch the place Where he doth lye, and thus begins the one with seemly grace.

BEhould thine owne, (Ariodant,) whome cares of loue do kill, Whose lyfe and death thou skillesse houldst, to saue or els to spill. At length let pitie placed ••e, within thy friendly brest, That she may gaine, & thou not lose, the fruits or wished rest, (Quod 〈◊〉〈◊〉), and than the other sayd, How long shall freating payne Consume her Rosiat colour that all earthly shapes doth staine. See here vnkynd whilst thou dost sleape, and take thy quiet ease, Ieneuora doth feele for thee the fittes of vi••e disease. Wherfore dispatch, ca•• sleape away bryng health to her againe: That since she 〈◊〉〈◊〉 dyd see thy corps, hath felt this pyning paine. These words had scarsly left hir lips when they wear out of sight: And he that care had choked me, and fedde with great delight, To see his Ladie and hi•• loue, in presence face to face, And gone againe so sodainly, before he could imbrace Her tender limmes, these sights I say hath forst him to awake: But when he knowes it is a dreame an cut crie he doth make,

As though his hart had felt the st••he, of fiers vntimely death, And lyke as if ••o loftie Skies, he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 resing•••• his breath. And do••h it not suff••se (quoth he) a w••kyng wight to wrong, With h••pes 〈◊〉〈◊〉 undeser••ed p••ynes, and fittes of death among. But 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and fond alu••••ns two, must help for to augment, My scorching cares that long or this, my life had welnye spent? O•• ••row••ing goods and merci••es, that seeke to feede my v••yne, with fond perswa••ions, that my loue is quite with loue againe, These eyes saw my Ieneuora, that s••d to pyne away. Because she ferd to ioy my loue•• as Ladies two dyd say•• which were the heauenliest creatur•• that erst myne eyes dyd see, Bedect with gold, & crowns they had and suer Gods they bee. Oh blessed sight, and ioyful newes, to good for troth I feare: And may it be that thou thus farest for him that houlds the deare. Then fye of care, and farewel couch, reioyce in ioye my hart, For then within my skyn shal lodge ••no more this dayly smart.

But why should I thus trust in dreames that fansies be of mynde: And eke vnconstant groundes of troth, as writers haue definde. At least a dreame is contrary, and then to true in déede It is, that lothsome loues dispayre my griping griefes doth feede. Yet Poets say that dreames be true and things to come foreshowes, For profe, they tel a doleful dreame, that Creasides ghost well knows. And wast not tould Andromaka, in vision plaine by night: That Hector shuld the morow next, depart from life by fight? If Poetes fayle, let Scripture serue, and did not Pharao breame: What gret increase, & derth likewise should happe vnto this Realme? And Ioseph saw in slumbring sleape, what honour should befall To him, and how his brothers shefes, before his shefe did fall. These proue y^• dreame is messenger of good and bad ensue: As warning sent from God aboue these sinfull déedes teschue. Therfore in hope of happie hap, dispayre I do deste: And henceforth bouldly I do intend to séeke some remedie.

And if such lotte belotted me, as I may her inioye, No more these cares I do protest, my sences shall annoy. Now is the pacient plai••••er layd, to his long fretted wou••d: And now his wits he cals to him, to helpe with counsell sound. He leaues those careful couches now he séekes to salue his sore, As ••ne that shunnes the furious meates, instruct by Phisickes lore. The desert wal••es which earst he tr••d, are desert now for him: And now remembraunce of his dreame reioyseth in euery limme. In fine his care doth now consist, only for to disclose: His fittes vnto Ieneuora, and his long tasted wors. Wherin so wisely he hath wrought, and playd so well his part: That now by life or els by death, to ease his loden hart. a meanes he findes. VUhen Cupid had with poysned dart, performed his full intent, Upon these sillie louers twoo, and forst them to consent. (Unknown to both,) vnto his lore, by mutuall burning loue: He left eche wayling others chaunce, and clymes to skies aboue.

But she alas) whose colour sh••wes, the passions of her mynde:) Stayes not to wayle her bitter chaunce, with teares and was••ed winde. And still complaynes in secret wise, of this consuming fit: Which for to ease, she cries to death, her hart in hast to slit. The Ladies craue by gentle meanes to know her cause of care: But she (with skill) nought more than that detesteth to declare. The night is past with tumbling oft within her wery bed: And seld or neuer doth approche one sleape vnto her head. In stead wherof contrary thoughtes doo occupy her brayne, And then whole floudes of brokish teares depart from eyes amaine. Her moystie pilow she doth leaue long or the day appeare: And rechlesly she deckes her selfe, nought forcing what she weare. Thus clothd, she spends welny the day in temple much deuout. Accompanied with one alone, (and not with glistring rout. Of Courtlie dames) this Lady hath in charge her booke to beare, As one that for her parentage the Princes held full deare.

This soone espide Ariodant, that long had sought to finde Conuenient place, and time as fit, to vtter out his mynd, Which séene, welcome the time (he saies) of me desired long: Wherin I hope to be releast, of this my solom song. For if I may such frendship finde, of her that beares the booke: As ones to wayte in stead of her, for more I do not looke. Then shall my plaint, which written first, and cold in secret wyse: Within the booke, disclose my care, ••t full before her eyes. Wherin shée shall perceiue also, the fittes of my disease: And how my cause to her I yeld, to order as shee please. And if shee be of nature good, Though shée disdayne my name: Yet will shee kepe it secretly, that therby grow no blame. And if shee hate to rue my care, I know the end of all: The worst is, that my desperate corpse on goring knife shall fall. But if she take me to her grace, who liues in better plight: Or who can vaunt of greater blisse, or is••a happier wight?

T••us he concludes and findes out time, and place, and now doth craue: Of her that daylie beares the booke, the cariage for to haue. The morow, when her Ladie doth to chappell take the way: Which frienship showd, shall bind me yours for to remaine alway. (He said). And she y^• knew no guile, ••e what was his intent, Ercept to get the Princes grace, his wilie head was bent. Which by that means might soone be wonne and then the fruites of gayne: As hopte reward for seruitur, in recompenes of p••yne. As moud with termes of curtesie, doth yeld vnto his will: Who frindly said you haue your ••est your mind I do fulfill. Therfore see that to morow next, about the houre of eyght: You geue attendance in this place, in my steade for to weight. Ariodant with thousand thankes, requites this freindly graunt: And voues for her in all assaies, his power shall not want. Thus part they twoo, the Ladie shée•• to Princes grace agayne: Doth hie: And he, in chamber close doth take no litle payne.

In writing out at large, the cause of his longe proued woe, And when, and where, and how he did, his li••••rtie forgoe. First how her fame, did force him leaue the ioyes of natiue land: And taught him skale the craggie rock, and ••aile by fearfull sande. Then how by soden sight, her shape did steale from him his hart: Since when, he tels how he hath felt, the paynes of mortall smart. Herein he makes a long discourse, and ends with answere craud, In gentlest wise, that mought haue moued, a hart of stone I graud. This letter made, & sealed with war, he hides in secret wise: And all that night, in steade of sleape, he doth therof deuise. Sometime a lothsome thought, doth bid him leaue his rashe intent: And reason tels him thousand doughtes, his purpose to preuent. Sometime, he feares least rechlesly, she mought his letter lease: Or els bewray it to her Syre, his hory ••ead to please. See here the seede that louers sowe, wherof doth spring the grayne: Of doughtfull blisse, that subiect is, to drought and stormes of rayne.

But feare or shame or dought of death, can nought this louer moue: Though silence if he could haue choosd, seemde best for his behoue. And for to moue Ariodant, his wylfull path to shunne: As easie it weare to sée the streame, against the tide to runne. Auroras bo••mes hath banisht night: sir Phebe doth vaunt in East, Whose plesant hew, reioyceth byrds and ioyes both man, and beast. Ariodant forsakes his bed, he feares to come to late: He prayes the happy Mercurie, to send him happy fate. Now is he come vnto the place, where he was warnd to staie: And thinks long till Ieneuora? to Chappell go to pray. The Princes is at tired now, she calleth for her booke: Wheron she dayly wonted is, in temple for to looke. The Lady doth present her selfe, before his mistres eyes: With booke in hand Ieneuore, in hast to chappell hyes. They passe wheras•• Ariodant doth stand in readines: To h••ue the promyse now performd which earst I did expresse.

She was as mindefull of her graunt as he of his request: And therwith gaue to him the booke, whic•• she in hand hath prest. He folowes our Ieneuora, she backward doth retire: His letter in the booke is cold, as he would best desire. The Princes is come to the pew, wher wonted she doth pray, He humbly yeld to her the booke, and so departes away. But when she saw Ariodant, whom more then life she loud, (As one amazd) the blushing bloud, from wonted course is moud: Which driues away the colour pale, which earst was in her face: (A signe they say of tried truth, and store of giltles grace) In doughtful plight the Lady kneels if vision she had seene: Or if conceit of idle brayne, the cause therof had bene. The truth it selfe doth hardly lodge, within her doutfull head: Besides the nouelties therof, haue ••ouell fansies bread. In these conceites, she opes the booke the letter is deseride: She languisheth till that theffect therof she hath espide.

With rauish brayn she hath purusd. her louers dolefull plaint: And twenty times she doth vnread, how loue did him attaint. She reades (with ruth) is termes of grac•• and eke her answer craud: His vowed troth, for ay she reades, which in her hart is graud. What shuld I say, the happie newes with auncient woes contend: So diuersly, within her corps, that backward she doth bend. In sound, as one that lenger had no power to fost••r life: Among her vexed limes, (I say) there is such mortall stri••e. Thus neuel ioyes haue won the field and banisht woe away: And gasping life & breathing breath, do helpe to part the fray. The banisht bloud retires agayne, the dampishe could is fled, Assured hope confounds dispayre, and conquers drowsie dred. Her sco••ched hart hath mois••ure fosid her scared ioyntes are strong, The burning beate, and Isie could, that troubled her so longe. Are quite exild, and in their steede, the Elements doo rule Indiffrently, and hastie health, beginnes for to recule.

Sée here, the wyse Chyrurgion, hath fou••d one sal••e to cure His own disease, and hers, that dyd in woe long tyme indure. Oh happy thryse Ariodant, thy pacient well may far: When as thy letter hath such grace, to banish cares away. For as by pearsi••g looke, eche one, became eahe others thrall: And as by dome of Cupids might, in bondage they did fall: So b•• Melp••mens sugred style, new freedom eche possest, He by his letter gaynd that he wuld, an•• she that pleased her best. WHen dying fits constraynd by ioy, had lost their chokyng force: And gasping breath, began to rule, in late forsaken corse, When lyuely bloud, which earst forsoke his wanne and swelling heate: Had vanquisht death from euery part, and pulces fast gan beate: Then with two streames of ioyfull teares, the letter bathed is: And twyse ten thousand tymes I thinke, the paper she doth kisse. Now doth she finely close it vp, and puttes it next her brest, Againe vnfoulded now it is, now reades she his request.

She came to Temple much deuout, deuotion mo••d hir minde: But to the Gods, this rau••sht dame, in prayers spends small winde. she rather seek••s which way she may ••••haue hir to hir loue: And eke which way, they best may work for both theyr best behoue. She thinkes it sin to deale with him, as some coye Dames doo vse: To feede him with a ••ayre looke, and after him refuse. She rather minds, (to case his care) an answer for to sende: Wherin like cause, like fits and wo, she myndeth shall be pend. but least the gasing eye mought vew the secrets of their mynd: And least theyr lauish letters sent, mought rayse a sclaundrous mynd: S••e doth deuise a secret meanes how he, without suspect May easely those letters find, which are to him direct: And she may haue, at that selfe place the answer of hir friend, And so, eche one may partner be of others faithfull mynde. With these conceits, the burning chayre doth clyme on hiest hea••en, The Clock agreeth with the Sunne, and sayes it is ••leuen.

The Lady wayteth by the pewe, and hath three houres large: Her only prayer is to God, that others hah her charge. Thus are her mistres orisons, in order sayd eche one: Her homeward countnance shows how that, her God hath easd her mone. Yet modestly her smiling eyes, with sober looke is clad: She means her mirth w^t solom chere although not all so sad. Thus hath she left y^• temples rights, to Court she hies agayne: She tasted there late lot••ed mea••es, she filles with ioy her brayne. The Ladies smile to s••e this chaūge. the King doth heare this newes, His heauie hart doth leape for ioy, he doth no lenger muse. But he (poore soule) Ariodant, when he with quaking cheere: And shaking hand, had geu•• the booke vnto his La••ydaere: His hastie steps do leaue the pewe, his prayers soone are donne: And secretly in chamber he thus hath his tale begonne. What wants ther now Ariodant? what is ther now behind? What hard attempt is yet vndone? or what is in thy mynd?

Not yet performd, thou mayst atcheue, and bring vnto an ende, Before the greuous gastly grenes, thy wofull hart doth rende. Behould these eyes of myne, haue séene the last of all thy ioye: And this vnhappy head to late, doth wayle thy great annoy. Oh friendles wretch, y^• heuens agrée, to sée thy fatall fall: And these thy endles dolefull plaints are ioye vnto them all. Els, had thy folly neuer forst thée to attempt this ioye: Which scand, & iudged indifferently, depriues thee of thy ioy. Thinkst thou her noble hart cā brook thy grosse vnegall loue: Who for her shape and s••melines, mought match with Gods aboue. Thinkst thou, w^t pati••̄ce she can vew the foly of thy brayne: Whose passing wisdō, wel approude all earthly wittes doth stayne. Thinkst thou to scape w^tout thy hire, of him that rules the lant? Thinkst thou thy wandring letter, sound, of all shall not be scand? Oh witles wretch when stéed is ••c••n••, thou séest what may ensue: But when thou meughst thou couldst n••t tlē a pre••ent harme eschue.

Oh more then thryse vnhappy wight, eche open mouth shall sound To Skies thy shame, when thy vile corpse forgot shall lodge in ground. Dispatch therfore, why stayes thy hand to geue thy hart his meede: Whose foolish lust, and fond desire, was causer of this déede. And therwithall he vrew his blade, his desperat part to play: But reason with hir holsome skyll, forst hastie hand to staie. Nay rather yeld thou foole (quoth she) to reasons sound aduise: Who greater fits then thou dost féele, can cure with a tryse. Wilt thou with desperate death deserue, the paynes of lasting smart: That mayst with eased mynd a whyle finde salue to heale thy hart? Perchance thy Ladie doth require, thy loue with loue againe: Why wilt thou then till troth be knowne with dread increase thy payne. Perchance or this her hart hath felt, for thee lyke fittes and care, A••d truth it is, she crased is, and heauely doth fare. And wait not be that Cupide is a iudge indifferent: Who for ta••gment your ioyes the more, doth thus your lymmes torment,

But loue, thou saist, vnegall plast is causer of thy care: (Ah foole) and hast thou now forgot, how Cupide none will spare. And is not King, and Kayser perst with his artylerie? and knowst thou not how (blinded) he at ventures lettes it flie? Canst thou alone then suffer shame, (if shame a man mought call An honest loue, when worlds of men to loue are hound and thrall?) Suppose the King might know thy loue, what harme can then insue: Himselfe or this could hardly shunne, the sparkes of Uenus crewe. Wherfore, let thought be fordest, from the bounds of quiet hart: And with aduise whats best to doe, these passions set apart. Thy Ladie is a gentill Dame, her bewtie doth declare: Who for to ease thy gréedie minde, an answere will not spare. Craue once againe the cariage of the booke, thou late didst beare, And in the cariage search the booke, if ought be lodged there: Perchaunce as thou didst first inuent so she will now deuise: And will her answere ther inclose, thy mynde for to suffise.

These thoughts, (as Phebus clears the skie) from foule infectiue myst: Do ease his mynd, •• banish thought, out from his cloudy brest. In western seas swift Phae••on, doth plunge his gleaming chayre, And in his steed the gliding starres, ••oth compasse loftie ayre. When in his bed Ariodant doth couch his heauy head: In hope to sleape but fanstes newe, doo rule in Sopros stead. The Princes is to closet gone not rekles of her friend, And least her déeds mought be espide, the dore is lockt and pynd. Then takes she paper, pen, and Ink, and thus writes to her own: Take this (not as an answere sent) from one to thee vnknown. But let these lines be guide to thée, which way thou mayst attayne, Unto my answer, craued that doth, by Oliue tree remaine. Kepayre therfore Ariodant, to priuie gardayn where: Under the mightie Oliue trée, by me lies hidden there. That thou didst craue, this may suffise, at f••ll thy longing minde: Till more at large, at fitter time, thou shalt my answer finde.

(This done) she takes an other shet•• of paper, which doth serue: To answere to his letter sent, for which he nie doth sterue. Therin she blisseth thryse the tyme when he did tread on ground: Of Scottish Realme, whose like (quoth she) in earth can not be found. Therin she blisseth eke him selfe, that would take such great payne: To sée so meane a wight as she, in whom doth not remayne. Halfe that great prayse, which he bestowes, on her vnworthy shape: Which is the worst that euer did, from natures handes escape. Then dolefully she doth lament, his long sustained woe: His pining fittes, vnquiet rest, his cares she rues also. Now is the time, when Uenus first did thrall her to her lore: Declared eke, and care, for care, she doth requi••e, and more. Now doth she, (like an Oratres) perswade him to be true: She vows by Ioue to shun the paths, that she wils him eschue. What should I say, she tels y^• time, she tels the secret place: When either, other person, may without suspect imbrace.

Untill which time, she wished him, amendment of his fittes: With thousand ioyes, which to declare, would trouble sore my wittes. Well wery hand and watched eye, seeke now longe shunned rest: As sleape to work thy drousie charme, at hand is ready prest. This night, the glad Ieneuora, of sleape receiueth more: Then in six months and odde (I think) she did receiue before. Ariodant (as Marchant tost with stormes from kenned land: That feares by rock, or swallowing goulfe, his deaths day is at hand) Dispayring lies, and dreadfull thoughtes oppresse his crased minde: And doughting most that battred barke, so soone good port should finde, Yet as he had concluded, he by breake of day doth ryse: And in dispite of fortune, mindes tachtefe his interpryse. Ieneuora, (though heauy head, did craue more golden sleape,) Is not vnmindfull of her charge: ne lenger bedde doth keape. But long before Ariodant, she doth vnknown arise: And with her letter hastely, to priuie garden hies.

And as she had deuised earst, within her little scrowle: She hides it by the Oliue trée, vnknown to any soule. That done, to warme an easie bed (not waking any wight,) She plies againe, and lieth till Aurora geueth light. Then vp she startes, & decks her self, with costlie robes of gould: Her glistring hear, in sumptuous cal the courtly Dames doo ••ould. Then close in closet she doth put the scrowle into the booke: Which first she made, of purpose, y^• her friend theron should looke. That done, she thus commaundes her mayd•• if he doth come this day: That last did beare the booke, when I, to chappell went to pray. And craue the booke agayne of you, graune him (quoth she) his mynd, The straūger shows a courtiers part it comes from gentill minde. With dutie done, the Lady graunts, vnto her, Ladies will: That in her stead doth wish he had, of wayting full his fill. Ariodant, abideth n••we, in his appointed place: But fearfulnes compels him hyde, his blushing, bashfull face.

Till that the Princes past the place, where lurking he did stay: She is scarce gone, when secretly, the Lady he doth pray. Once more in stéede of her to wayte, and cariage for ••o haue: Of paayer booke, she graunts it him, he hath that he did craue. Then secretly the fearfull man, doth prie within the booke: The scrowle he finds, & takes it out, he cannot therin looke. For feruent ioye: he puts it vp, she is now come to pewe: He geues y^• booke with blushing face, his Lady that doth vewe. Her smiling chere, bids him farwell: his hastie foote doth part: These frendly looks, which after that for euer lodge in hart. This longing louer is aryud, at chamber, now in hast: He opes y^• scrowle, & word for word, he findes in order plast. As erst I could: he heues his handes, and streacht out armes to skies: His clothes he bathes with gushing teares, that run from swelling eyes. His ioye is in her secretnes, that myndes not to disclose: His preferd loue, as by thappoint∣ted place he doth suppose.

For though (quoth he) the answere be not as my fansie would: Yet by this meanes to show my mynd, no doubt I may be bould. And though she now doth light estéeme, and will not heare my plaint: In tract of time my fittes I trust, her stony hart may taint. For rust in tyme, will canker in the gad of sturdy stéele: And littel worme in tract of tyme, doth make the Oke to reele. In time, by droppes of raynie dew, the fi••ie ••••int doth freat: In time also the beating sea, the ruggie rock doth eate. And may not then in time my sobbes and teares, from drowned eyes: Pearse gentil hart, whose nature is, to rule on wofull cryes? Besid•• if lookes may moue me think my loue she doth requite: I' neede no greater proofe then that wherof I late had sight. For did not colour chaunge in face, when she beheld me fast: First read as any Rose in May, and pale agayne at last? Some say that these be arguments, of vext, and troubled minde: And sonest séene in louers face: (as I in writers finde.)

But why doo I thus spend the time, in dought, and doughtfull toyes: When answer seen and once perusd, may ease perhaps annoyes. And ther withall, like gréedy wolfe, nye sterued for his pray: He ••eaues his talke and hastelie to gardin takes the way. Where priuely, at bidden place, he séekes with curious eyes: The answer which his Ladie did, for him of late deuyse. The ioyfull man hath found it out, his labour now is don: He leaues the gardin for that nyght, he doth to lodging runne. Wher carefully, he doth vnfould, the letter clos••••ie seald: And readeth eke by surcumstance, that was by dreame reueald. And (as I sayd how she extolles, his shape vnto the skyes: And how of her renoumed grace, she basely can deuise. Then how she rewes y^• scorching fits which he so long hath felt: And then as touching her ill rest how loue with her hath delt. Next that, her wyse perswasion he with leaping hart doth réede: Then fi••ed faith and plighted troath, till death doth craue his méed.

Oh happy newes, oh ioyfull liues, oh sentence glad pronounst: That makes h•• seke for rauisht wits, that so in cares wast trounst. Come helpe y•• Mountain Ladies al, and leaue Pernassus hill: Come help me with your sugred stile my charge for to fulfill. And thou, oh Spring of eloquence, come helpe to guyde my hand: That rudely doth presume to write, in verse but grosly scand: Of ioyes, that had their ginning first of black and lothsome fittes: Come helpe therfore Apollo thou, to wheat my dulled wittes. And help oh knights of Cupid•• crew on whom ••ame Uenus smiles: To write of blisse, and more the ioye, that floudes of cares exiles. For your report must make my skill by prou••e I nought can write: Of ioyes, although (y^• more my ruth) of cares I can indight. But sith the listing eare doth wayte, to heare howe he doth fare: That late receiud these gladsome newes such wynde I now will spare. And sith both Musts, Gods, and Men, disdayne to rue my plaint: You must w^t baser verse, (my lords) your learned heads acquaint.

Therfore, when hungrie eyes had 〈◊〉〈◊〉, long tyme on pleasant newes: And gladnes bad his pining corse, s••••h mourning to refuse. With bowed knee, his ioyned handes, to hautie heauen he houldes: And then vnto the mightie Ioue, he thus his mynd vnfouldes. Perpetuall prayse immortall God, (that all of nought didst frame) Be dewe to thée, and lasting grace, be geuen vnto thy name: That from the toppe of hiest heauen to déepest vale belowe: Dost (like a gentell Sauior,) on me such pitie showe. Whose sinfull deeds, doo dayly moue, thy godly mynde to yre: And purchase eke, (by iust desert,) the paynes of dreadfull fyre. Thy goodnes (Lord) no ••ong can tell, ne head can well deuise: No p•• can paint such worthy prayse, as may thy deede suffise. My hart vnable is to think, t••y goodnes showd to mee: That w^t thy might, hast socourd one, quite drownd in miserie. For was not I the wofulst wretch, that liued vnder skyes: Consumd with care, nye chockt with sobbes, besprent with teares, and cryes.

And now, who liues in greater blisse who now more happier wight, Whose fate doth fortune fauor more, or who in better plight? Wherfore, if thou (oh mightie Ioue) wilt bryng to happie eno, This loue begonne, which in thy law we mind till death to spend: If thou (I say) (as thou dost knowe, the secrets of my hart, Be quite from guyle, & fardest from the sinne that asketh smart:) Wilt turne our former passions of vile consuming care, To lasting ioye, and perfect •• lisse, and graunt to vs, the share Of spousals rights, which more then goods, or friends, or life I loue, I vow, by all that earst thou framdst in earth, and heauen aboue, By this my soule I vow, I sweare, I firmly doo protest, To loue•• to dread, and serue thée lord whylst lyfe lodge in my brest. This vow he made, and vp he starts, he feeles he thinks no ground: His limmes that earst for weaknes bowd, in strength do now abound. His mynde runnes on Ieneuora, and of hir worthy hew, He giues to hir the chiefest prayse, of all fayre bewties crewe.

He thinkes now of the courteous lines, whiche she to him did sende: He reades them till by hart eche worde he knowes, and then doth rende The paper, least by some mishappe, the letter lost and founde: Mought turne to his decaye, and hers, to whome he chiefe is bounde. Now thinkes he of the ioyfull place, whiche she did late inuent: Where he with sight of her his ioye, his minde he mought content. Against which time he deckes himselfe with sutes of ioyfull hewe, And throwes away his mournyng wéedes, he lothes on them to vewe. He now doth vaunt him self, amongst the rout of courtly mates: His gladnes, hath brought hunger to, he seedes on costly cates He is not now on tomblyng bed, nor wandryng nowe alone: He doth not nightly now lament, nor filles the skies with mone: But like a careles youth the daye, in sundrie sportes he spendes, And so the nightes in maskes, and showes, he bringeth to their endes In fine, eche care, that whylom was, to him griefe and annoie: Is nowe become a treble blisse, and twentie fould more ioye.

Then if he earst had neuer felt, of woe the cutting fittes, Or if the stormes of ••othsome l••ue had neuer tost his wittes. His brother, (that was partner long of his vnquiet rest) Is glad with him, •• driues ••orth with vyle care from carefull brest. His mind, (y^• earst was dulled quite) his lyms, (that lothed disport) Is wakt from dreame, and now he is as stiffe as mightie fort. Now wants he nought but mates to stande, the dint of his great speare: Or such as would in open field, against him armeur beare But none there are in Scottish soyle no none that beareth life: (That knowes his might) that dare aduance him selfe before his knife. Therfore, in stede of instes on hors, and tourneis done on soote, In forest wyde, the sauage beast, in dennes he séeketh out, Wherby the countrey man doth liue at home in suertie: And keepes therby him selfe, and his, from former ieoperdie. But why do I of profit speake, wher pleasure is my song? Or what hath Bloudie Mars to doo, amongst Cupi••••s throng?

Why sayst thou pen, to speak of him that armed is with ioy: And prest against fayre Ladies foes, his might for to imploy? Why tel•••• thou not how he hath now disclosed to his loue, (I•• pres••nce) all his former woes, (which hard) forthwith do moue The Cristal drops frō smilyng eyes by streames for to discend: She showes like fittes, which forse from hart the broken sighes tassend. Then he with ••oulded armes imbrast her small and semely wast: And she her slender ioynts, about her louers neck hath cast. A thousand tymes he kissed hath her lippes of ros••at hew. As oft she doth vnkisse againe, her friend and louer trew. Now doth his tongue confirme those fittes, which penne did late indight: As how with sighes the day he spent and with lyke teares the night. Then how with hope he was alurd, to sue for wyshed gra••e: and how in dream with goddesse two he saw her heauenly face. The princes hears, this plesant talke and then she did vnfould, What sightes, what shapes, and visions, she in night tyme did behould.

With such like talke, the tyme is spent, and now is come the howre: When sugrie presence, they must change for pensife parting sowre. They rue their want, and hate the tyme, that byds them to depart: But néedes they must, though corsie strong, it is for them to start. He geues in signe of loyal loue vnto the Princes grace, A Diamond of passing prise, a ringe that did abace: All Iuels that before that tyme, were seene in Scottish land: Whose gleming stone causd gasing eyes on musing oft to stand. She takes the ring with ioyful hart, she geues to him againe A token, which doth signifie, she faithfull will remaine. With ioyned lips, they say farewell, with pressed hand in hand They vow: that to that place ech day to come no let shall stand. Againe they kisse, and faintly then, mine own adew (quoth he) With becked hand, and bowed head, my heart farewell (quoth she) Their backward lookes show loth to part, theyr hartes agrée also: That to enioy eche others sight: great wealth they would forgo.

Thus are they come, she to the court, among the glistring rout Of chast Dianas nimphes, and he repayres, amongst the stout and sturdy band, of Scottish knights where he doth passe the daye, In decent games, in courtly sportes, and other séemely playe. Sometime with racket he doth tosse the light reboundyng ball, And carfully doth marke the chase: now he his hauke doth call: And now his varbed horse he traynes to passe his swift carear: Or ••ls to gallope round the field, now doth he with his speare, By steadie crurse obteyne the ryng, and now by forsed mighte, He breaks his staffe, •• now he learns his caruyng glayne to byte On forged sheld (That done) on foote he runnes a breathyng race, And then returnes to court to wayt, before his Lieges grace: Which he can doo in séemeliest sort, therin he hath such skill: That better then the best he doth, his courtly charge fulfill The dyner don, he filles his eares, with heauenly melodie, And he him selfe on solom lute, can stryke sweete hermonie.

And now amongst the Scottishe Dames, (as though he weare to chuse) He would discourse of histo••••es, and tell of forein newes. As first the s••ege of worthy Troy, what knightes therin weare sl••yn: And how that Helen was the cause, that Grocians felt such paine. Then how, the chast ••enelope, did leade a widowes lyfe: Til hir Ulix, and Anthenor, did ende the tenne yeares strif••. Next how Cneas, falsly delt, with Dido, Cartha••e Quéene, And how for falsing of her faith, False Creseide fell vncleane. A thousand such this curious knight reports vnto this crew, And all (god knowes, was to the end his Ladie for to vewe. The Courtiers they delight to heare his passing eloquence, They thank him al, he séeks no more he hath his recompence. He is (good soule) a happie man, that by that meanes he may: At pleasure and without suspect, see his Ieneuora, Amongst these iestes, he mindfull is, of secrete méetyng place: He cannot that forget, where he his Lady shall imbrace.

There (as it lighted in his head) he doth vnloode his brayne, And she, as amours forse her speake, doth yeld the like againe. Their other passions I commit to you that louers be: I cannot think, much lesse to wryte, theyr fittes of iolytie. But many daies these faithfull ones did spend in great delight: And lenger had, if fortune had, not wrought them great dispit: For whilst they two with quiet myndes had driuen away the cloude Of carefulnes, and nou••ht but blisse, within their harts did shrowd, (I faint to tell) that Serpent vile, that worketh Princes woe: That treason black, forst them (alas) theyr ••reedom to forgoe. Therfore, a dew, without desert, ye Nymphes of Helicon: Possesse your Mount I néed you not let my rude verse alone. Tis Sibil she that Profitesse: that knowes, the darksome denne Of Plutos Realm, that must be ayde to guyde my rugged penne. We must amongst the lothsome shades, seeke out Alecto vile: That may with mone, and solome tune, deck this my dolefull style.

Thou Ioue graunt that I may finde out, The bough of golden ••ewe: And that the teeth of hellish dogge, I safely may eschewe. And thou (I say) that worker art, of this my changed songe: Help with thy Snakie hears to show the sting of treason strong. For thou, thou Witch, thou hellish hagge, thou wrinkled fury fell, Hast forst my pen that painted blisse, of foule mishappe to tell. But sith with scorched limmes he craues, to wpite his cruell fall: Whom fortune late with honour deckt, and reard to noble wall. I will assay to turne my stile, from louers happy life: To frowning fittes, to sobbes, to cryes, to falshod cause of strife: And sith he séekes to haue his fall. a myrrour to the rest: That line, I will begin with him, and let the other rest. THere was amongst the Scottish Lordes, (whom honour did aduaunce To noble style,) a mightie Duke, of bloud, although hard chaunce, Oh filthie facte, dispoyld him quite of former dignitie: And forst him leaue his tipe of might, to peruerse miserie.

This Prince was Duke of Albany, and Pollinesso hight: And vassall to the Scottish king, a subtill craftie knight. Who well increast in aged yéeres, (and yet to chuse a feare) Gan greatly loue Ieneuora, whom he as liue helde deare. And sith he was of noblest birth, of subiectes in the land: He thought thee rather to obtayne, that he did take in hand. Wherfore he is in mynd oft tymes, to moue the King herein: Whose grace once got, he soner thiks the Princes for to win. Againe thinks he, if she should know my mynd is for to craue: Her fathers graunt, before I doo her fauour seeke to haue: The stately dame perhaps wold dain my sute and profred loue: Therfore he minds this way to deale as for his best beh••ue, He seekes (I say) to spend the tyme, with her in stately court: To play with her at chesse, or cardes, or other chamber sport. And when he sées she pleasant is, and in her mery vayne: To breake to her such amours, as within his hart remaine.

So thought, so don, he wears the day as earst he did deuise: He hath his fill of Ladies lookes, he feades ther with his eyes. But sée the spight that ••••lousi•• that prieth euery where, Hath brought him in an ag••nie, and in a soden feare. He sees the straunger of resort, to his reioysing place: He sees his Ladie showes to him a pleasant smiling face. But most of all, and that that most augmentes his ielousie: Is straungers ring, which she doth weare, still gleaming in his eye. Wherwith, dispayring in his mynde of his late hoped gayne: He thinks to spend more time therin is booteles and in vayne. Yet doth affection tell him that his doughtes b•• contrarie: The Straunger cometh to the court (saith he) of curtesie. And she requireth, like, for like, what if she weare his King? The stone is rich, and happely, she hath therin liking. Besides, will she bestowe her loue of one a straunger borne: Of mean estate? when Princes loues she oft hath had in scorne?

Thus hope, and dought doo hould this Duke, he long hath felt what payne: Dispayre doth bring, and eke what toyes, in doughtfull fittes remayne. And when he sawe that wearing tyme, could nothing wast his dought: Inforst by loue and ielous••e, this fetch he hath found out. Firstly, for to acquaint him self, with this Ariodant: That dayly dot•• (as well as he) to Princes lodging haunt. And then, for to inuite him home, vnto his mancion: Where he concludes to put in vre, this last inuention. That is, to hauke and hunt with him, and passe the time away: In such disportes as he delightes, chiefly to weare the day. In which meane time he wil disclose the secretes of his mynde: To him, as both his owne affaires, and such as are assingde. B•• priuie counsell, for the wealth, of all the Scottish lande: And eke what actes the king intends, with spéede to take in hand. Then of his pr••uate déedes to tell, and how he leades his life: And eke with whom he is in leage, and eke with whom in strife.

Al these & more then these, this Duke doth mynd for to disclose: To his inuited gest at home, only of this purpose. To haue the straunger yeld agayne, the secrets of his hart: In recompence of that which he, to him did late impart. Amōgst which thīgs, he hopes to héer of this suspected loue: And so to be resolud of that, which ielousie did moue. And if it be (as he suspect) (I meane) that she hath chusde Ariodant vnto her fere, and he hath eke refusde. All other for Ieneuora, then he in friendly wyse, Will beat into the straungers head, what harmes therof may ryse. Or els to perswade him that, his time is spent in vayne: In suing to obtayne her grace, that doth great ••ordes disdayne. And how, that she doth mynd dif••••it, and nought estéemes his loue: As Ladie wilie heades doo oft, the ••ielie soule to proue. With such conceites as these, the Duke doth thinke for to beguile: This careles man, that falshods craft, hath farde•••• in exile.

And now, from craftie Parlament, he calles his wylie wittes: In mynde, in hast to put in vre this same, to ease his fittes. And finding now Ariodant amongst the courtly crewe: Of Scottish D••mes, y^• ioyes in har•• his Lady for to vewe. He doth acquaint him self with him and with a friendly face: Inuites him to his stately home, and courtly dwelling place. The straunger (that for courtesie excells the Scottish rout) (Whose giltles mind cold not deuis•• this treason to search out) With bowed knée, and humble thāks requites his ientlenes: And shows him self at his commaūd as prest in readines. ••he Duke is glad, that thus he hath achevd his interpryse: The straunger ioyes, •• hopes hereby some happy happe may rise. Now both haue left y^• Regall court, both leaue their Ladies sight: And now amidst the plesaunt fieldes to sport doo both delight. Somtime their running féet•• pursue the cry of yelling hounde: Somtime they ioy to smite the dear•• or els the hart to woun••.

Sometime in arms, they seke y^• chase of Beare or ••yon fear••••: Or els with sharp and cutting glayue the t••sked Boare to pearce. Whē day is gon, they welcom night with showes and harmonie: Or els with well squard champions, to force their treasure flie. Amongst these sports & plesant iests the Dukes let not to ••el: What diu••rse••haps haue chaunst to him, and all that ea••st be••ell As well to him, as to the Realme, he telles to him the state: Of all the soyle, and Region: besides he doth ••ilate. What is agreed, by close consent, of all the Scottish peares: And then what lawes are ordained, he heates into his cares. Then how in youth he trapped was, with traynes of Cupides might: (He tels) and how vnhappie man, he serude a scornef••ll wight. Since when, (he saies,) how he hath lothd such passions to sustaine: The fruit wherof wil not (quoth he) halfe counteruayle the payne. Ariodant, with listing eare, markes well this diuerse talke And takes good heede vnto his tale, when lauish tounge doth walke.

But from his lippes doo not procéede the secretes of his hart: Ne from his close, and priuie mynd no passed actes depart. He countes it vilanie to tell, that he could well declare: And taught he was from infancie, a walking tongue to spare. Therfore vnto him selfe he kéepes, that lodgeth in his mynde: And stayes his mouth from breathing out his thoughts vnto the wynde. Wherwith the Duke, not well content, but moued much with ire. (Considring that it fell not out as he did earst desire) (With angry cheere) Unkind (quoth he) is this the curtesie That you vnkind Italians, requite for amitie. How can thy greedy eares kéepe•• in, such store of secrets tould: Without imparting lyke for lyke, and not for to vnfould. Such iestes as hidden lye in brest, which may content my mynd: And ease perhappes a troubled head, as therby friendes oft finde. This said, & hard, with blushing face, the straunger as dismayde: With fired looke, and sober chere, vnto the Duke thus sayd.

I trust my Lord y••ur honour will not to accompt (quoth he) Of him that doth remayne as yours, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 from falshood free. For we that ••e of Italie, and bor••e in foren lande: Doo b••nk it mearest vanitie, and fond to ••ake in hand. To ••reat of that, that profit smal redoundes to them that heare The same, and most of all, in vay••e, that goulden tyme do••h weare. To hould your honor with such acts, as I my youth did spend In Italie (my natiue soyle) to small effect would tende. Sith both the land to you vnknown, the deedes of such purporte: As heard & iudgd, your self would say doo not discerue report And since my wandring féete did leu•• the bounds of Italie, No acte hath past from me that hath, deserued memorie. Therfore (w^• pardon cravd my Lord) I trust you will estéeme, But well of this my silent tongue, and rightly therof deeme. (Quoth he) and then began the Duke no, no, Ariodant, Thy deedes are not so secret done, ••e yet my wittes so scant.

But well I can behould the thing, that thou doest shunne to saie: Both how thou hast and louest now, the Prince Ieneuora. Thy oft resort vnto hir court, discloseth thy intent: Thy plesant lookes to her doo show, thy wyll therto is bent. But if thy reckles head had w••yde, my good wyll borne to thee: Thou wuldst not once haue stickt to tell, those secrets vnto mee. Whose sage aduise perhaps mought moue, thy mynde from that intent: Which yelds in fine nought els but sighes, and cares for tyme so spent. Yet sith at first, my fansie had, in thee so good thinking, I will inforce my tounge to speake, against my lustes lyking: Know thou therfore, (Ariodant) the Princesse hates th•• tour, And scornes that thou should so presume•• therto her grace to moue. For though with smyling ••here ••he doth, reward thy curtesie: Yet is her mynde most fardest from, the l••ste•• of Uenorie•• Beleue well, Ariodant, thy loue is euill imploy••e, For I it is, whom she doth loue, whose hart I haue in ioyde.

Long time, of whom I may commaund, what listeth me to craue, And eke obteyne what so I aske, as proued oft I haue. And least thy doughtfull head mought dem vntroth in this my tale: I wyll (to put thee out of dought) this enterpryse assaile: That is, to bring the morow next, from my Ieneuora: Thy Dyamond, thy gift to her the rynge (that men doo say) In clearnes shames our Scottishe gemmes, wherby, thou mayst perce••ue, How well of thee, and of thy loue, thy Lady doth conceyue. This tale, no soner enterd had into the straungers eare: But therwithal a heape of thoughts, within his minde appeare. Yet least his chaunged countnance mou be wray his secrete care: And least his stayed speach mought show•••• how he ny chokt doth fare: with strain••d voyce, & moued minde, he firmly doth denie, Eche point of his accusing tale, and profers for to die, If euer so his mynd was bent, or if he sought to moue At any tyme she Princes grace, with his v••egall loue.

And as vnto his oft repayre, vnto her graces Court: Shows nought (quoth he) but youthful mynd with Ladies ••or to sport. As courtiers vse, (of lustie age,) to weare the time away, In daunce, in talke, in melodie, and other chamber play. But all for nought, Ariodant his tounge & speach doth spend, His vowes are vowed all in vayne, the Duke hates to attende Unto his long excusing tale, and how he doth denie The gift of that rich Diamond, which he did late discrie. Wherfore the Duke in hast depart••, and doth commaund beside, His st••ede for to be•• sadled straight, for he post h••st wyll ryde. Thus leaues he poore Ariodant, and he to court doth hie, And (as he rydes) he studies how this King he might come by. At last, he doth record, how that there serues the princes grace A Ladie that Dalinda hight, a mayde of Scottish race. Who earst was proferd to the Duke in l••wfull mariage: A ••••em••l•• wyght, & Lady fayre, of noble parentage.

B••t he, nought forsed then the mayd his hautie hart was bent: With hier match, & greater sums, his wil for to content. To this forsaken Dame, this Duke concludeth forto goe, To craue, by proferd mariage, the Dyamond also. And as he ended had the thoughtes, of this subtill minde: He is ariued at the court, where he doth séeke to finde In secret wyse, this wayting mayde, whome he at last hath founde Disporting her, with Lute alone low set vpon the ground. Her he salutes as tyme did serue and she requites againe His court••••ie, that done, the Duke still mindfull of his payne: Doth craue a word in secreat with the Lady for to haue: And she that least suspects disceite doth graunt that he doth craue. And then the Duke with sober chere, vnlodes his charged mynde Thus, to the li••••ning maid that longs to heare of newes by kynde. To hould thee long mine own (qd he) with painted tedious talk, Or els, in glosing eloquence, to strayne my tounge to walke,

I séeke n••t n••w, but simply, I the secretes of my hart: As playne, as of a perfect truth, to thee I wyll impart. Thou knowst (qd he) not long or this thy faithfull friendes did moue, (By reason good and great aduise) me greatly to thy loue: Thou knowst (I think) also the cause that forst me not consent: I meane, thy welth, and parentage, could not my mynde content. For I (as thou doest know right wel) (without bost be it spoke) For noble lyne, and lyuing great, mought match with Royall stocke. But leauyng thus these lofty lettes inforst through hautie mynde: And speakying to affections force, that conquers all by kynde. Know thou, since then recording oft, those vertuous giftes of thyne: And eke thy beutie great, which doth excell before myne eyne: Forgettinge eke, the causes all, of that my former staye: And callyng now vnto my mynde, thy woorthy shape, I saye, I am as ready now to yelde, vnto the friendes desire: As they to gayne my graunt, or this, were wi••••yng to require.

And sith, it is vnknown to me, which way thy wyll is bent: And eke for proufe how willingly, thou doest therto consent: If thou wilt not deny me that, which I of thee will craue: which thou at ease maist graunt, I séeke, no greater proufe to haue. That is, when our Ieneuora, in bed doth take her rest: And when the slumbryng sleape doth rule, within her quiet brest: To helpe me to the Dyamond which she esteemes so wel. (I meane) the straungers rynge that dooth, in clearnes so excell. If this to doo, thou wilt not let, by knighthoods lore (I sweare) To wed thee as my lawfull wife, and I to dye thy feare. He sayd, and endeth so his tale, and she (when long in muse Had stayde) in pleasant wise thse woord•• or lyke them thus did vse. If this procéede, my Lord (qd she) from bounds of spotles mynde, And if your proferd curtesie, agree to noble kinde: If that the secrets of your hart, ••e voyde of bidden guyle: And d••••pe deceit in this your tale, be fardest in exile.

Though dutie biddes me staie to graunt, vnto your hastie will: And reason sayes, with honour I cannot your heste fulfill: Yet to perswade your honour, that I prest am to obey: To what so listeth you demaund I will without delay, Inforse my selfe against the groūds, of bounden duties lore: To helpe you to th•• Dyamond, or els to die therfore. Tyll then a whyle my Lord (qd she) staie you at this selfe place, And I will to Ieneuora, and wayte before her grace, Till that to sleape she geues hir selfe, and then I will againe Repaire to you, with Diamond, if here you will remayne. The Duke agrees to her deuise, and (with a ioyfull hart:) Doth yelde to hir a thousand thanks: Dalinda doth depart, and leaues the Duke wel easd of care and now in perfect blisse: Because he hopes the straūger will, dispayre at sight of this. The quiet tyme that nature yeldes, vnto the loden mynd Is come, and now the weary ••ones, a resting place doo finde.

Ieneuora, (when bankettes all, and reuell routes weare done) Repayres vnto her quiet bedde, and watching crewe doth shunne. Dalinda wai••es on her this night, of purpose to obtaine The Diamond, which nightly did on chamber boorde remayne. Ieneuora no sooner had on pillow coucht her head: But King Dalinda fingerd hath, of Diamond she is spead: And (duty done) the slately couch, she leaueth for that night: And to Duke Polinesse then, she guydes her feete aright. Who found in place appointed, she presentes before his eyes. The Iem, & therwithall, these words the spendeth in this wyse. As, to content your doughtfull mind my might I haue imployde: And as in you my honour staies, which carst my self inioyde. So let me finde (my Lord) agayne, in gage of willing hart: Like deeds vnto those vowed words, which late from you did part. She sayd, and then, the Duke replies thus to her iust request. Or els (qd. he) thou God graunt that no life lodge in my brest.

In signe wherof, hold here (quoth he) and so they ioyned handes: Let this conclude till fitter time the yoke of wedded bandes. Thus he departs, with promise made before the breake of day: To yeld againe the Dyamond, no let at all should staye. Now is the Duke returned safe, vnto his heauy gest: Who long hath lurkt on weary bed, bereud of former rest. So much this late vnlookt for tale, dismayes his quiet hart: That now well nye he féeles againe, her former woe and smart. The Duke no sooner leaues his stéed but to Ariodant He hies: that seemes to be a sleape, though ease in head is scant. And with a pleasant voyce he sayes, what sluggard how, awake: Thou dreamst to lōg: frō closed eyes the misty sle••pe of shake. With that, the straunger (as gast) doth cast his heauy head: Aloft, and start well nye from out, his tost and tomled bed. And therwithal, what newes (qd he) who calles me thus in hast: How fares my lord y^• Duke his grace and then his armes he caste.

Out of the bed, in mynde to ryse, but then Duke Polinesse Gan name him self, and thus to him these wordes he did expresse. Let not my hasty call, mo••••st thy head late easd of care: Ne think no harm, in that (quoth he) thus bo••ldly I do fare. For as I haue bene grief to thée by breaking of thy sleape: So may I profit bring to thée, if thou good héede wilt keape. Unto this tale, which from the hart of him, that wisheth well: To thée procéedes that found out thy present cares terpell. I trust thou doughtest not (quoth he) of this my •• ••alous minde: Which since our first acquaintaunce, hath to helpe thée ben inclinde. Since when thou knowst, by long discours•• what talke hath past from mée: As touching these affections fo••d, which I conceiud in thee. At which self time, though thou dist scorne, to tell me what I knew: Yet did I friendly promise thée, to helpe thee to eschewe. Those happes, to bring from court with m•• thy famous Diamond: Whose match cannot compared be in this our Scottish ground.

Therby, that thou moughtst plainly sée, what loue in Ladies lookes: And that in time thou moughst be taught, to shun their hidden ••ookes. To quite my self to thee, therfore, of faithfull promise made: And of my troth vnfa••nd to thée, thy mynd for to perswade. See ••eer 〈◊〉〈◊〉 th••r with showd the King which he in pu••se did beare) Beleue thy selfe, not me, if that thy Lady houldes the deare. Whē al was said, & King was showd and Duke had done his fill: For to perswade Ariodant, to brid••ll reckles will. When in a muse the straunger had, a little whyle remaynde: S••t straight vpon his quiet bed, him selfe to speake thus strainde. The curtesie which I haue found in this your graces court: H••th bounde me till my fatall day, (my Lord) for to report. Immortall prayses of your grace, to whom I doo account: My 〈◊〉〈◊〉 as farre indected to, as my rude head can count. And s••••h eche way. I see my self, vnable to requite: your least and smalest benefite, (the more my griefe and spite)

Yet count me as your own (qd. he) your vassall to commaund: As one whose life, & goods are yours till death his due demaund. My duty, thus acknowledged, let these replie vnto: your graces tale, which in my mynd I well haue wayd also. I doo record right well, (my Lord) the summe of all (quoth he) As of the Princes grace, what talke past then twirt you and me. I mindfull am bestdes, what I sp••ke in myne own defence: What oths past eke frō me to proue my troth, or you went hence. B••t that culd not suffice your mynd n•• change your wrong intent: But needs you would (the rather to inforce me to consent. To that my giltles conscience lothd) to court in hast to hy••: To bring from thence, a Diamond, which, then she said, that I. Did geue vnto Ien••uora, therby that I mought see What good accoūt of you she makes, and how ••he deales with me. This was the very talke it self, except I doo forget: The sum of that within mine eares, is ringing still as yet.

To which, ••more thē I answerd ear•• I cannot now replie: B••t as I sayd, so I protest the same not to denie. And as vnto the remnant of your last pronounced tale: This shall suffice, if in your hart, my truth may ought auayle. Know you, (my Lord) I do confesse, the Princes scorneth mée: For why, a simple courtier I, and meanest in degrée. Not worthy to be thought vpon, in Princes hauty court: Whose birth vnknown, doth rather séek•• with meaner match to sport. And as I doo confesse the one, so firmely I denie: That earst I neuer sawe this gemme, that thus shines in myne eye. Nor neue•• gaue the like to her, as I am subiect true: Unto my liege and soueraigne, and owe him seruice due. Thus I conclude, in hope also, as I haue plainly toulde: The hidden secrets of my hart, and as I haue vnfould. Nought els but truth, as you may tri••, in time to come right well: That so you will from doughtfull mynde, such straunge c••nceites expell.

The Duke, (that heares with grief the ende of this late coyned tale•• Amazed stands, sith his inte••••••, no better did preuaile. Yet minds he, sith the straunger was to him but as a gest: Not ferder to eramine him, but for to let it rest. Till that at fitter time, he may a better way inuent: For to annoy Ariodant, and eke him selfe content. And, therwithall, would God (qd he) I wish for thy behoue: That as thou saist, so tract of time, the truth herein may proue. And parting thēce, good night (qd he) take now thy quiet rest: And to your grace, god graunt (qd he) such ease as likes you best. Thus is Duke Polinesso come, vnto his chamber, where Unto a secrete friend of his he geues the ring, to beare. Unto his friend Dalinda, least, the Diamond shuld be wanting: And so preuent his purpose, and turne to her great vndoing. Post hast, therfore this messenger, is prekt with Diamond To court, who at the last, by happe Dalinda hath out found.

To whom, (with thou••and thankes) he geues the gleaming gem•• agayne: From Polinesso (mighty Duke) that doth her friend remayne. Thus leaue I him that ended hath his message in his best wise: And now vnto Ariodant, I will my stile deuise. When Polinesso vttred had, that lurked in his brest: And showed had the Diamond, vnto his heauy gest. When gon he was out of the sight, of poore Ariodant: Who in his new disquiet mynde ould corsies did not want. Then, gins the straunger to record, the ring which he did sée: And fear doth m••ke him think besids that ring the same to bee. Which he did geue Ieneuora, wherfore through euery part: Of his distemperd limmes, procéede an ake, and deadly smart. From head, and hart, doth passe also a could, and lothsome sweat: And temples both, and pulses two, refuse their liuely heate. His heare right vp, his eyes do stare, his t••th he ioyneth fast: M••ch like a man distraught of wits, and holsome reason past.

Sometimes, (for lacke of breath) he lies ••ereud of liuely sprightes: And in his rage, lyke frantike man, his careful head he smyghtes. And when his fittes be of least force, then with a ••an••ing hart: Unto himselfe in secret wyse, these woords he doth impart. Oh deepe discent, oh hidden guile, oh falshood furie fell, Oh cruell spight, condemned be thy ghost to lothsome hell: That so canst fawn on simple wight with pleasant smilyng chere, And with a hart inuenemed, to kyll that houlds the deare. Oh wretch, I skorne the present ioy and eke thy Princely state: And happy thrise wer these my eyes. to see thy latest fate. Consumed be thy cherefull health, and sicknes scale thy corse: Let sadnes, from eche part of thée, all pleasure quite deuorse. Conuerted he the cristall hewe, to foulest colour vyle: And all diseases rule in thée, when health is in erile. for thou (oh careles wretch) hast forst my limmes that lyude in ioy) To taste the most vnquiet rest, that any can anoye.

And as he would haue furder said, from stringes of swelled hart: A deadly grone proceedes, and eke most scorning sobbes depart. And therwithall, oh death (quoth he) wreake on my corse thy will, Asunder sheare my vitall thréed: oh Atrapos doo kill. The most vnhappiest creature, that treades on sinfull soyle: And you oh sisters cut the thread, and ease me of this toyle. Thus whilst he waies y^• brightnes of this goodly Diamond: (Dispairing wise) in••ectiue feare doth nye his wittes confound. But when he doth call vnto mynde, what friendly actes haue past, Twixt him and his Ieneuora, he calles his wittes at last. To him, and then, his lauish tounge he ginnes for to reproue: And saies, y^• nought but tride disceit, should faithfull friendes so moue. And then he gan to dought beside, if that same weare the ring: That earst was his, which Poliness•• from court with him did bring. For though report, did blase (qd he) my gem to be the best: yet may an other be as good, though secretly it rest.

And dayly proufe, doth teach vs eke, where Princes fansie frame: There goes away the victory, and gayne of greatest name. And though it were the ring it self, that I did late enioye: yet till I know more perfect proufe, it shall me not annoy. For how can such assured signes of lasting amitie: Be ioynd with crabbed craftines and with such subtiltie. Did not her letter show to me, a louers true intent? Did not the passion of her mynde to faithfull lynes consent? Did she not vow (with drowned eies) she lothed filthy ••guyle? And did she not perswade me eke, to shunne such treason vyle? Could this proceed frō double mynd could heauenly shape inuent: Such termes of truth, & after wards to such disceit consent? Can she, that since her infancie, was traind in Princely court, (Wher wisdoms lore, •• prudēce skil, is vsed for disport) Beare in her hart such fayned truth, and vse such subtill witte? Or els vpon well meaning wight, such spightfull hatred spitte?

Can craftines finde harborow, within so goodly shape? when nature serude so worthy corpse could truth from her escape? Can double dealing lodge within so worthy creature? Who for her passing comelynes gaines lasting lyfe tindure? No, no, I doo abandon now my former fonde conceit, And eke the sparkes of black dispaire I will extinguishe strayt: For tyll those eyes doo plainely sée, or els those eares doo heare, Disdainful lookes, or scornful woords such fittes shall not me deare. Tyll then, (though some presuming there be of fained loue) From chosen choyse, •• harts desire, no passion shall me moue. By this, the blustring blast is blown that so amazd the mynde: And Delus from Orient seas, doth breath a pleasant winde. The darksome clouds are drowned now, that trobled earst the ayre: And hope with beames of ioyful light, turnes stormes, to weth••r fayre. But sleape that doth disdaine to see an other, to possesse ••he ••lace which he by right should kéepe) ••oth seeke for to redresse.

This iniurie, and calles foorth with, his mates in his affayres, That drowsy dreame, & slumber sad, and with his friendly prayers, Doth craue his aide, with forced might, to yelde to him againe: The place which he by right should haue, which others now doo gayne. therwith ould Slumber gan imploy, with careful mynd his might: To conquer Hope or els to dye, himselfe amidst the fight. And with his Ingin he doth scale the fort but meanly mande: And through the wall doth make a way, for to conduct his bande. This seene, poore Hope, (as vanquisht man) not able to defende Him from the whyrling dartes, that Sléepe about his cares doth sende: Doth yelde himselfe cendicionally, that next to Slumber, hée Within his batterd castell, may be second in degrée. The conquerour doth graunt here to poore Hope is peakte away: And now doth Dreame amidst the presse, his drowsie part well playe. But Night that is the generall of all this s••••ggish crewe, Gan from the fardest Orient ••••ast, the mornyng playnly vewe.

Then (least he should to long abide) he seuds the Herault out: (The Oule) y^• with her croked trump cries Retreat to the rout. Wherby, the armie leaues the land, and flittes to Leathian seas: Wher they abide till Night againe, shall yeld them former ease. The cocke (Auroras messenger) sends foorth from stretched throte: With fl••ckring wings, & roused lym his cherefull mornings note. Hope heers this sound, & thē he know his foe is fledde away: Wherfore within his secret caue, no longer he can stay. But to his former crased fort, with hastie foote he plies: Wher entring in, Ariodant, doth lie before his eyes. Who was one of his souldiers, when that sleape did geue the foyle, And taken eke a prisoner, as he for Hope did toyle. But, by good hay, no harme he had, saue only in his head•• A littell scarre, of fond dispayre, that drousie Dreame had made. Him, Hope doth comfort as he can, and with a lustie cheare: No h••rme, (qd he) dismay thée not, discharge this filthy feare.

Herewith, the séely crased man doth leaue his easie bed: And hath concluded secreatly, (within his vexed head.) To leaue the Duke, and to return•• vnto the court agayne: Least by his still abiding there, the Duke mought seeke a meane To searc••e of him the truth herein, which, though he loth to showe: yet mought such word•• procéed vnwares as therby harme mought grow. Wherfore•• when Duke of Albany had left his chambers rest: Ariodant, (with bowed knée, gan of his grace request. For to depart, his license, an•• his fauour for to haue: And he, (thogh with vnwilling mind) doth graunt that he doth craue. Thus leaues the straunger Polinesse and he with spéed, to court Doth plie againe for to renewe, his fourmer ioye and spourt. yet can he not (by any meanes) the sight of showed ring Forget, though hope with pleasant wordes, good signes of ioye doth bring. By this, he is aryude amongst the crewe of Courtiers stout: That ioye to sée him safe retournde among that lus••y rought.

His brother eke Lurcanio, (inforst by course of kynde) Doth welcome home Ariodant, with ioyfull pleasant mynde: And of such iestes as happened, since he did leaue the court: Unto his brothers lustinge eares, he makes along report. But he, (this carefull louer) that is ny caught with dispayre, Doth somon all his wittes at once, to helpe in this affayre. And sith vpon two fickell pointes, his present state dependes: To take aduise or he beginnes, his wyly head intendes. I Nede not now for to recount, what guyle Duke polynesse Did vse, with Princes Dyamond, tannoy his hidden gesse. Nor how ••e faild ••f his intent, ••e of the diuerse talke, That now from Polinessos lippes, and now from straungers walke. but al you know (my Lords) how y^• Ariodant did feare, That this was the selfe Dyamond, he gaue his Ladie deare. which fere, so to••t his troubled brain that as a man for••orne, He shuns eche youthfull companie and life he had in scorne.

To ease these fittes, two only wayes this carefull louer spies: Wherof, (as present state did craue) he gan this to deuise. Firstly, thinks he, if with my pen I causles should accuse: Or els in presence, by complaint, I blameles should abuse. The Princes grace, to whom I must accombt me chiefly ••ound: Whose zelous mynd, (except I faile) I faithfull oft haue found. If that I shuld once moue (I say) these doughtfull thoughts of myne: Under her grace, by letters sent, or els before her eyne. For to a••cuse her troth, vnknowne, then let vs sée the ende: Hereof, and to what passe, our taunting tale would tend. At first, (as well she mought in dede) she should bestow on me, At fond suspecting louers name: and most vntrue to be. That at the sight of euery toye would take occasion: To blame her troth, and eke to liu•• in vile suspicion. Then after that, for to withdraw her loue so euell employd: And eke repent that such an one, so long hath it enioyd.

Which if these ••ies sh••ld once behold these hands with bloudie knife S••uld take reuenge vpon my tongu•• by ridding of my lyfe. And if she gr••unt•• (as vile dispayre perswades me for to deeme) I mean, that she doth loue this Duk•• and euell of me estéeme. If this she say, what then tell me, whats then our remedy•• In faith by cor••••es, bane, or cor••, to die in misery. Againe, if to my self I should, these secrets sole impart: Lettes sée if this may change our 〈◊〉〈◊〉 or els our cares conuert. This charge (qd he) to make the salue that cures the burning w••und: Tasswage the humors cold, that dot•• the patient ••ye confound. As hard i•• is ••o ease the wight, with freting furious meat: Whom fe••••rs force continually, to ••••••ning bones doth eate. So hard it is, that silence which augments my misery: Shuld salue y^• sore, which nothing el•• but talke can remedy: For see, as belching poyson broyles, within the panting brest: And scorching heat, conuerts y^• helth, to most vnqui••t rest.

So do the cares of ve••ed mynd, consume the crased hart: Tyll by disclosing of his griefe, he findes to ease his smart. But if (as this my case doth stand) be wraying bringeth death: Tweare better thus to proue the end then for to wast my breath. They say, that corsy ministred, vnto them poysoned corse: Will coole the fearse contagious he••t and quench the burning force. Why may not thē the troubled mind by silent tongue annoy: That health, which silence banisheth, and doth the hart enioy. For if my doubtes be false indéed and she doth loue me still: What then but silence can preuayle, and bridell lauish will. And if she vse me for disport, and scornes my proferd loue: The knowledge of the troth therin, a desperate death doth moue. Wheras, if yet my loue cannot within her hart preuayle: yet silence, truth, and tract of time, hereafter may auayle. Wherfore as reason séemes ••••gr•••• vnto a secret hart: So from these lips, those leud cōceit•• I mynd shall not depart.

But, as before the newes I hard, so now amidst the crewe: Of courtly dames, my wonted sport•• I will forthwith renewe. This last deuise thus ended hath his argumentes eche one: He listes•• no longer to consult, in hast he is forth gone. The Princes court, wher no man is more welcomer then he: As well vnto Ieneuora as to the Ladies frée. And ther, (like to his wonted guile) he dayly doth discourse: Of histories: or riddels els he learnes to tel by course. Thus leaue I him that showes a face of perfect blisse and ioye: Though now & then amidst disportes dispayre doth him annoy. And to the Duke I must agayne my solom verse returne: That seeks (vnhappy man) eche way, to cause the straunger mourne. THough Polinesso wel had wayde, vnto what small effect: His former fond, and lewd denise, by yll luck was direct. Though he perceiud how contrary eche point therof did proue: And that no sight of gem, ne talke, could ough•• the straunger moue.

Yet could he not slack lenger time, (inforst by ielousie) But néeds he must deuise of newe, some other policie. Wherfore, when that Ariodant was gone vnto the court: He leaues his home, and thether to, in hast be doth, resort: Wher like vnto his former wont, he feedes his doting eye With Princes lookes, & takes therat a great felicitie. And she agayn, (that knew right wel the skill of curtesie.) Doth friendly intertaine the Duke into her company. But furdest from her honest hart, (I dare avowe) was loue: To him whose grauer yéeres, should shunne such youthfull toyes to moue. This aged amorous syre (I say) thus caught in Cupides n••t: Cannot digest this ielousie, which be in straunger set. But rather by the oft repayre, of yonge Ariodant: New coa••s ar put to burning fl••mes, that fire did not want. Therfore whē grief had long opprest this careful Duke his mynde: In counsell to Ariodant, he thus doth spend his wynde.

If that (quoth he) Ariodant, I thought my words would take, More surer ground within thy min•• then when I la••••ly spake To thee, of this Ieneuora, I would once more assay, To turn thy youthful head from that that workes thy nown decay. I see with sighes, & mark with mone (for so doth friendship mo••••) That nether talke, ne sight of ring can chaunge thée from this loue. I sée, I sée Ariodant, thou hast to good conceit, And dost self wil to much inbras•• •• that workes thine own disceit. I sée, how lightly thou regardst, that I tould late to thee: I sée thou scornst my sage aduise and takst me false to be. Els wouldst thou not so sodenlie forget that mought haue taught Thy skilles youth, to shun the bayte that hath thee captiue caught. But sith thus farre I haue assaid to moue thee to beleue: That neither gifts, ne lookes, ne talk can ought thy Lady meue. I will, (to quite my self of troth faith vnfaind to thee) Once more attempt a greter charge then thou before didst see.

Thou knowst, at court within thrée dayes is kept a solom feast: When eche to honour more to same with brauest geare are drest. Then will the Princes decked bee with ••obes of shining gold: And none so rich as she that day, ne goodlier to behold. If then twixt nin••, and ten at night, thou will repayre with mee: Unto a secret place, when I a signe shall geue to thée. Thy self shalt sée Ieneuora, and me Duke Polinesse Imbrasing eche, and eithers corpse in others armes to presse. So that at sight hereof thou wilt, geue place vnto my loue: And leaue these fickell fantasies that youthfulnesse doth moue. The Duke thus staies his filed tongue, and then Ariodant This answere made vnto his tale, that forst senses want. Shew this•• (my Lord) & then (qd he) I yeld to your desire: As one that is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••our commaund, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 what you list require. ••o here my hand: (qd Polinesse) I sweare by this my Grace, To show thée what I promised, at ••etted time and place:

But as to ease thée of thy griefe, I doo that reason nould: So as t••ou art a gentilman, doo ••ot my tale vnfould. The straūger graūts, & vows therto and thus they two depart: Ariodant to chamber close, and Duke as likes his hart. But whē this thrise vnhappy wight this carefull wretched man: Was come vnto his mourning den, he doth begin to scan. Upon this false and forged tale, and despratly doth teare: His trembling flesh, & rendes all that that he that day did weare. His head he smites with bended fist, his feete he stampes on ground, His holow sighes, & groning sobbes, from hart to skies resound. Now groueling on the ground he crawles, and scrapeth with his nayles The earth, and now againe him selfe his hasty hand assailes. Now chokt w^t grief, he specheles lies as one bereud of breth: And now to ende this furious fittes, he cries thus after death. Oh death (quoth he) the ende of cares if euer thou didst graunt Unto a wofull wretches will, that waylings d••th not want.

If euer thou didst yelde vnto, a haples mysers hest, Or if vnto the vex••d corse, thou euer yeldest rest: graunt now to me (vnhappiest slaue) whose panges of pining payne, Is more then natures kyndly course can brooke or els susteine: A fatall push at last for all, a••d ende oh death this care, Dispatch this lothsome lingryng life geue me this only share, With fatal dart, (oh gentill death,) let liuely bloud depart By streames, out of this carcas vile and slyse this trembling hart. Thou dolefull bel ring out at last, my last deperting knil: Or lyuing els close me in graue, my mouth with earth do fill, But vnto her, that causer is of this my mortall strife: Oh death geue crooked aged limmes, with lothsome lingring lyfe. For she it was, that straunged me from pleasant Italy: And forst me like a banisht wight, to lyue in straunge count••••e. She, she, berevd from me my blisse, she brought to me this care, She hath restraynd from me my ioy, and cau••ht me in the snare.

Her smiling lookes, her frendly ••tile, and eke her vowed truth: Hath brought me in this misery, alas the more my ruth. Oh hart more hard than Adamant, oh false dissembling tongue, Oh painted face, (whose worthiness•• fame so far of hath ••unge) False Greseids gain, be thy reward, that art more false then she: And worthier a thousand fould, a Leper for to be, My carefull dead cannot deuise, lyke plagues for thy desert: Ne yet my tongue declare the halfe, of thy deserued smart. When first, these wretched eyes of myue did see that cra••tie corse: And when this head did so beleue, thy lines of faithles force. Would God this hand, had ••earst this hart, with caruing vlaudie knife: Or els that Lions tearing ••awes had rid me of my life. Oh haples wretch Ariodant that by the heauens consent, Mu••t work thyne own vnhappines, through lot ••some loues torment. O•• abiect slaue, whose fortune is to fall into her hand: That neither knows her self, ne yet •• a friend doth vnderstand.

Thrise happy hadst thou ben, when that to loue thou gauest thy mynde: That nature had closd vp thyne eares, and that thou hadst ben blinde. But oh what gayues this lauish talke? what profittes wish, and would: When iudge, vpon condemned wight, hath dreadfull sentence tould? Dispatch therfore, thou dastard slaue, geue ende vnto thy care: Play morderer, with stabbing knife, the vaines a sunder share. What, doest thou ioye in miserie, that fearefull hand doth stay? Or knowest thou any remedy, to vanquish death away? Doth any hope remayne as yet to comfort thée with all? Doth any sparke of blisse appeare, that may to thée befall? Hast thou not hard thine own decay, and lacks ther ought but fight: And canst thou liue for to behould, that foule and filthy spight? Thou doughst belike dec••itfulnes, in Polinessos talke? Who, as his willing hart did wi••h, thou thinkst his tongue did walke. To ease thy heauy mynde therin content I am to stay: But that once séene prepare thy self, for sight of Dismall day.

And with a grisly grone he endes, his carefull heauy plaint: And scorching sighes, & deadly sobbes do forse his members faint: And ouercome with griefe of mynd, his wery limmes haue founde A slumbring sleape, wherin he lies, as caught in mortall sound. Thus leaue I this Ariodant, vpon his carefull bed: Amidst a heape of dreadful dreames, that swarme in vexed head. And once agayne vnto this Duke, (this false periured man) I must returne to blase againe, his treason as I canne. Therfore when false dissemblyng Duke, had easd his swelled minde: By belching out these carefull newes, and vouched othes, to blynde The more, this true dispairyng wight: he byddes him then a••ewe, And trackes no tyme, ne lettes aught slippe, his purpose to pursue. Wherfore the euen before the feast, D••linda he ought spies: And thus amidst his other talke, this tale he gan deuise. As ioyfull newes as euer came to th•••• D••linda earst, Or gladder farre then euer yet, thy l••ft••ng eares haue pearst.

I will im••ert to thée my nowne and chiefest faithfull friend) With whome, the rest of this my lyfe, in wedlocke I will spend. Leaue of therfore, those musing dumps, that trouble so thy minde: And to my happy tale se that, thy open eares be inclinde. Thou long hast séene with griefe (I know) what signes of loue haue past, Betwixt thy Ladie mistres, and twixt me thy friend (at last,) Thou knowst, how long I suid, and servd, her grace for to obteyne: And eke thou knowst how loyall I, all that time did remayne, Thou knowst (myne own) that only was, the chiefest cause that I So slenderly requited thée, and thy great curtesie. But se••, as fonde affections forse, and signes of séemly grace, As bewties beames, assotted me, to serue that froward face: So now (at last) that coyeishnes, and her disdainfull mynde, Hath turnd my hart intrapped long, that bewtie so dyd blynde To lothsomnes, and lyke disdayne, and now I am as frée, (Thank God) as when indiffrent eye did egally eche sée.

Wherfore, in signe of this dispite, and of more careles hart: What in my mynde I haue deuis••, to thee I will impart. Thou knowst (qd he) ther is in court a row of houses ould: That wast do lie, vnoccupide, vnable scarse to hould. Them s••lues a loft vpon the ground a place of no repayre: E••cept with dogges, or vermyn vyle or els with fowles of thayre. Against these rotten walles ther is, (as thou right well dost know) Imbossed ought from ioyned frame, a stately bay window. Which is as voyd as is the rest, a lodging fit for none: At that self place, I haue deuisd•• that thou thy self alone: About the houre of ten at night shall mete thy Polinesse: Tomorow, dekt with princes roabe•• and eke thy self shalt dresse. With glistring ••al•• and iuels rich, with those she ware that day: Wher I in scorne of Princes will with thee Dalinda play. And eke imbrase thy worthy corpse, as deare so me as lyfe: Of whom (as sone as time shal serue) I mynde to make my wife,

This is theffect of my deuise, this is the summe and all: Of that which bringeth libertie, to thee that now art thrall. For here in court thou subiect art, to beck and to obey: Wher next to me in Albany thou chief shalt beare the sway. Therfore if sparke of faithfulnes lodge in thy gentell brest: If euer yet to pleasure me, thy friendship hath ben prest. Fayle not with corded ladder and with Princes braue attire, At that same place and at that time, to yeld to my desire. Said crafty Duke, & therwith stai••s, his false deceitfull tongue: The sting wherof, so seruenly hath our Dalinda stung. And eke that vile ambition, hath so infect the mayde: That presently she yeldeth to, all that before he sayd. Thus hath the Duke, (as hart would wish) performd his enterpryse: And finisht hath his false request as he co••ld best deuise: And now vnto his careles couch with ••asd mind he hies: And lieth til the golden globe, doth driue night from his eyes.

The irksome shade, that so annoyes the heauy pensiue wight, Forsakes the skies, & morning now hath banisht drous•• night. The ••oyfull daye doth show his face, the gromes no lenger lye, But to performe his charge, ech one with carefull mynde doth plie. The massie roabes for princes grace from wardrobe are out brought: The borders braue of gouldsmithes craft, with stone and pearle I wrought: The Iu••ler deliuers to the Ladies of the court, with tablet, cheine, & brasl••ttes dekt, with stones of diuerse sorte. with those the careful ladies dresse, Ieneuora that day, That rather séemes of heauenly mould, then of dame natures clay. thus drest, this peereles princes plies for to perfourme hir rights, To chapel, well accompanied with rought of Scottish knights. There all the morning she doth spend as temples hestes require, And prayers sayde, to court againe the Princes doth retire. But what needes longer stay herein, what booteth to report. The dayntie cates, servd in that day, and of the diuerse sort.

As well of pleasant ••acchus cups, as Ceres dainty dish: And of the dulcet musickes skill as sweet as care would wish. Sith far from blis my stile is changd this day hath causd that care: That neither head can well deuise ne pen can well declare. Therfore let courtiers ioy in court and geue me leaue a while, To write of hopeles wretches haps, whom treason did beguile. The setted time by Polinesse approcheth on a pace: when straūger shuld behold y^• Duk•• the Princes to imbrace. Wherfore as one not well assurd of Scottish faithfulnes: Ne certain that the Duke did meane as late he did expresse. Least that (I say) in some dark place he had imbusht a crewe: Of traytors to inuyron him, when he this sight should vewe. He comes vnto his brother then, whose might he knew right well, Would succour him assuredly, if any then would mell. whose company he craues that night when he should see him g••: With Polinesse, and that he would bring swoord with him also.

Lurcanio, whose lyfe and death, his brother mought commaund With willing mynd consents vnto Ariodants, demaund. Duke Polinesse, not careles of thappointed houre and time: (which now is come) when y^• I shuld performe his filthy cryme. Comes to this most vnhappy man, and biddes him folow fast: If that he list to sée the thing, wherof he tould him last. Ariodant that l••ng had stayd to see the carefull ende: Obeys the Duke, and after them Lurcanio doth wend. To desert houses they are come the Duke hath brought his mate Unto a place direct against the window which of late I tould you of, wher (Princes lyke) Dalinda should appeare: before y^• Duke, dect with those robes their Prince that day did weare. Ariodant thus plaste, the Duke doth bid him cast his eye Upon that window, wher (quoth he) thou shalt thy Lady spy. ••urra••o that longs to sée the sequell of this iest: Is come within ten féete wheras Ariodant doth rest.

Wher he vnséene may vew likewises that window at his will: Ther secretly the straunger standes, that doughtes some present 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Duke Polinesse, no sooner leaues the penciue louers place: But t•• thappointed window, he directes his féete apase. Wher he had not remayned long, but see, with glistring light Of gould, Dalinda doth appeare lyke angell to the sight. and as the Duke had geuen in charge so she in brauest wyse: with shining robes, w^t Diamonds set that glem•• before the eyes Lyke burning torch in winter night is come into this place: Wher Polinesse like Iud as doth her scorned limmes imbrace. And to the end, the straunger should more perfectly behould: His louing toyes, her kisses eke. and how his armes do fould Her griped wast he doth approch as nere as windowe will geue leaue to him, to straungers sight that he mought vew his fill Therof, & how she ••l••spes her armes about his stretched necke: Whose store of kisses do declare, her mynd voyd of suspect.

Lurcani••, whose glasingeyes are not vnoccupied: Upon the window stating stands wher he hath now espied Ieneuora, (as he did déeme) because of Iuels bright: And eke the golden roabes did shine so liuely in his sight. But for to know, who so did tosse the Princes rich attyre: Pis staring eyes and greedy looke•• by no meanes could aspire. This sight, thus séene, Lurcanio (accompting brothers health As life, to him,) in secret wise (vnknown) is come by stealth. Wher most vnhappy louer stayes, who seing all this iest: As man distraught, his rapiere he in hastie hand hath prest. And scorning lenger life, hath set the hilts vpon the ground: In minde by falling on the point to carue his fatall wound. And as he did on groning blade his desperate body bend: (Behold the mercie great of God) his brother doth defend. His trembling hart frō deadly pushe, by hol••ing in his armes His falling brest, and that once done he thus his brothers charmes.

What deulish act annoie••h thus thy head bereud of witte: What desperate ioy hath taunted thée what foule and lothsome fitte Hath so beguile thy sences al, that thus (vnhappy wight) Thou sekst by this vntimely death thy passions vile to quite. In this the ende of all our toyle? is this our trauels gayne? Is lothsome death thy iust desert and is an endles payne A gwardon fit for me, (thinkst thou) that leauing natiue soyle: (Like banish slaue) sha•• liue in court, consumd with cares tourmoyle For losse of thée, whom as my life, thou knowst I hould as deare? And shall I liue to sée the day, the heauie newes to beare. Unto our carefull pensiue friendes, that by his own consent: Their wre••ched friend Ariodant, his latest dayes hath spent? O•• reckles friend of brothers life, and could thy hart agree: To leaue thy brother destitute, of friend in straunge countrée? Or if thou hadst nowhit esteemd thy faithfull brothers life: Could Ladies falshod force thée run, on point of persing knife?

What sure hath inchanted (tell) thy skill in wisedomes lore: What madnes hath intoricate thy pleasant thoughtes so sore. That neither losse or ioyfull lyfe no feare of dampned ghost: Can change my mynd frō this intent (o•• wretch of wretches most) Can bewtie bleare thy wilfull eye and forcy thée for to loue: And cannot sight of ••oule deceit, from amours force thee moue. Can fansie frame that am••••tit by sight of seemely grace: Which present guile, and filthy fact, by no meanes can displace? And canst thou wreake such sharpe reueng•• vpon thy giltles hart: And see her loue that is the gr••und of this thy present smart? ••oo••e out (I say) such vgly thoughtes ••rom bounds or troubled minde: And seke by reasons sweete aduise some holsome salue to finde. If eye did chuse a faithfull friend and fansie did agrée: If hope intiste thy drowned hart•• to serue assuredly. Let now to s••er signes of hate, let proufs of lyke disdayne: Lodge scornefulnes in careles hart for loue long vowde in vayne.

So shalt thou dryue these dreadfull ••••nges, out from thy panting brest: And to thyne owne Lurcanio, bring lasting ioy and rest. Sayd carefull soule Lurcanio, vnto Ariodant: That hath as many ••ares to heare, as hath the Adamant. So altred hath this sight his wittes and eke his stayd intent: That sage aduise was bootles geuen, the sequell to preuent. Yet lest his brother mought perceiue his changeles will to die: And least by striuing with his force, be mought his purpose spie. Thogh ouercome with mortal ••angs he mute and dombe doth stand: (In signe of grace,) he puts his blade into his brothers hand. That don, from that vnhappy place to chamber close they hie: And (as the time of night did craue) to bed they both do pl••e. Lurcanio (in hope his wordes had changd his brothers mynd) (Nought doughting of the present i••) a quiet sleape doth finde. But he, surprisd 〈◊〉〈◊〉 dreadful thought•• with visage pale and wanne In stead of sleape, in frantike mind a thousand tymes doth banne.

The day which first gaue light to him ••e curseth eke the teate That in his fansie did geue, to him his sucking meate. As oft he bannes his damned eyes, that so could 〈◊〉〈◊〉 their sight: And eke his tongue y^• sude for grace, of one so false a wight. He curseth now his open eare that so did marke her guyle: And hastie hart that trusted so her lippes so fraught with wile. What shuld I say, both head, & hand, and all he could inuent: In steed of blisse, and wishes good, he doth with curse torment So in this wise eche night is spent and day renues agayne: His wonted course, but night, ne day, can chaunge this louers paine, But still vpon some present death, he gladly doth deuise: As one that only findes that salue, to ease his scorchi•• ••••i••s. Wherfore to driue sus•• on the more from brothers ••rest: He cloaks his care, and ris••th when, Lurcanio leaues his rest. And finding then occasion to leau•• his companie: He hies in hast by wilf••ll death to ende his miserie.

As stroken hart, whose bleading wound, declares a present death, With reckles feete climmes hill and vale, whilst he hath life and breath: As greadie Beare, that is berevd, (whilest she do•••• raunge for pray) Of littell whelp, doth howle & roare, and dreadfully doth bray: As Lurtel Doue that is beguild of hoped faithfull mate, In pining wyse mis••••king spendes, hir tyme tyll latest fate: So fares it with Ariodant, this wretch full fraught with woe, Whose trembling feete no soner had left poore Lurcanio: But out vnknown to fields he hies, and raunging here and there, Like frantike man, now runs he fast and now (as caught wi••h ••eare) ••e créeping by y^• ground doth crawl and now (like one agast) He staring stands not mouing ioynt and now he vies as fast. But styl v••on this tragedy, vpon his letted part, His heauie mynde, is occupide, and eke his desperat hart. Wherfore, at last approching neare vnto a Riuer déepe: He doth conclude his last deuise, no longer now to sléepe.

But calling to a traueler that then past by the waye: With broken s••••bes and faltring tongu•• he thus to him doth say. My friend (qd he) although vnknown perhaps I am to thee, Yet let me craue thy curtesie, thus much to doo for me: That is, that thou forthwith wilt go, vnto the Scottish court, Wher from me, to Ieneuora, thus much thou shalt report. Through to much sight Ariodant, hath founde vntimely death: And yelded to the greadie streame, his last departing breath, This same is all, this doo forme, let p••••ie moue thy mynde: Sith power wants for to requite, that friendships lore doth byn••e. This said, the cloudie sighes proc••••de from scorched hart by heapes: And therwithal deepe sobs & grones, from gasping throte out leapes. The traueler, agast to heare, these straunge and careful newes, Doth feele his vitall senses fayle and falles in mortall mewse. And coming to him selfe againe in faire and friendly wise, (Lyke to his skill) he vttereth what harme therof might rise.

As first, his death once bruted foorth, his lyfe is had in scorne, And ther with lasting memorie, with liueles limmes is worne Except report reprochfull blast in euery coast doth sound: How wilfully Ariodant, his desperate course hath dround. Besides the daunger of the soule, he puts into his mynde: And eke the terrour of the payne, that is therfore assingde. B••t care of heauen, or dought of hel, is fardest from his thought: And how y^• world wold deeme of him he neither careth ought. Wherfore when no perswasion could chaunge his black intent: with drowned eyes, y^• straunger doth to his request consent. Then from the toppe of craggy rock, he lookes to streame belowe: •• stretching ••ooth his shaking armes. him selfe foorthwith doth throwe ••midst the streame, y^• foulds his corse and ther withall doth ••inke Unto the ground, & ther remaynes, which causd the stra••nger think That gredi go••lf had chokt his breth and that he had ben dead: Wherfore he hies vnto the court, with minde complet with dread.

Ariodant, (though noble hart, did scorne for to remayne In such distres, and rather chusd by death to ease his payne,) Yet feeling pangs of lothsome death, which kinde could not indure: He striues againe to get that life, which care did earst procure To banish from his vexed limmes, and vsing lothed might: by force of armes & stretched legges lyfe ther hath won the fight. And death is fled, with whom retires that foule and dreadfull thought: Which carefull wretch Ariodant to deare well me had bought. Thus quite from death, the straunger now doth sommon wits againe, To counsell what is best to doo amidst these stormes of raine. First, pleasure biddes him to repaire again•• to lu••••y court, Wher sone thou shalt distroy (qd he) these thoughts through pleasant sport. And sith thou art by skill instruct, to shunne false Uenus bayte: Perswade thy selfe, the blynded boy no more for thée will wayte. With that conceit affection, doth seeme for to agree, Although in reasons they be all, and therfore thus saith hée.

How knowest thou Lurcanio wil brooke these heauy newes, What griefe of minde shal he indure what torments will he vse (Thinkst thou) when he shal heare thy death) to ryd his lothed life? The best is thinke by pining dayes, if not by persing knife. And I (qd vertue) can not yeld, vnto your ioynt consents: I sée small reason to induse me, to so straunge intents. We say, that man thryse happy is whome others proued ha•• me, From fallyng hedlong to such haps, can warne and warely charme. The court was causer of thy care, by court did spryng thy paine: Then let these daungers of the court from court straunge the againe. The wyly byrd can shunne the net which earst enthrald her so: The sely mouse once caught in trap, can shunne the guyle also. But vessels sayd with sower wyne, kepe still their former tast•• And that which in the boane is bred, from thence is hardly plast. So hard it is to maister loue which rooted is in hart: But rather by continual sight is growen a greater smart.

And as vnto Lurcanio, how he these newes will take: I dought it not but for thy death he great complaint wil make. But for to say, in desperat wise, he will him selfe confound, Thats very straunge, •• hard to mak•• that in myne eares to sound, He loues thee as a brother ought, (so nature d••th him moue) But selfe loue toucheth nearer kind•• this tale thou true shalt proue. At first thy death is griefe to him, ••ls kindly force is gone: But as the wearing time doth wa••••e so doth abbridge his mone. wherfore leaue lusty blouds in court let brother morne his fill: Let fading worldly pleasures be, and ••erke than to my skill: Learn thou w^t remnant of thy daies, the blissed sacred lore, Seke now at last tappease the heu••s whom th••u offendst so sore. So shalt thou learne by lyfe to die, and die to lyue in ioy: So shal not then thy fleshly lustes, thy sin••ull ghost annoy. This sentence was no sooner tould but for to show consent, Eche lymme and ioynt are eased wel and lyppes pronounce, content,

The Parlament thus ended is, to vertue stranger yeldes: And running here and there abrode amidst the desert fields: He doth at last a sheapard spie, whome he in friendly wyse Salutes, and after that, he crau••s the sheapard to aduise Him of some holy place, wheras a man mought leade his lyfe In quietnes, and wher he mought abandon worldly strife. Upon this hill (qd shepard then) if that thou list to go: Thou shalt ther find an Hermetage an aged man also, That there alone doth passe away his wery aged tyme. In prayers much deuoutly for remi••••e of former cryme. This known, Ariodant doth leaue, the Sheapehard with farewell And mountes on hauty hyll, wheras the Hermite poore doth dwell. And finding him amidst his beades with hartie greatings made: The goodly courtier strayns his spech and thus to him he sayde. That god that form'd the erth & seas and framed man of nought. Increase thy faith, and send thée that which thou so long hast sought

••ood father, though, (through tender age,) the frayle vnbridled youth Doth lacke the deepe discretion, to seanne and iudge the truth: And thought the motions of the flesh prouoke t••e fickle brayne To light esteeme the heauenly foode, and honour fancies vayne: Yet (you doo know) by turning oft, the true discourses ould Of auncient actes, how God aboue, disdaynd not to vnfoulde His hidden secret mysteries vnto the tender age: When contrarie, he doth dispyse to shew that to the sage. for proufe we néede none other shew then Daniell the childe: Who savd Susanna from the flames and iustice eke did yelne, Unto the aged Iudges two, who fayling their intent: Concluded to condemne to fyre the sily innocent. So Dauid, (in his infancie,) inspird with heauenly might: Did conquer stout Goliaghs limmes in open combat fight. which proue not time, but godli giftz sent from the spring of grace: Doo rule within the vertuous, and in his hart take place.

That heuenly beck, & fountain cleare hath moysted so my lust: Oh father, that the vanities, (which late my ghost did rust,) Are washt clean frō my fretted hart, and now I am in mynd: (It thou wilt graunt) by more aduise more store of grace to finde. And sith the chast and secret lyfe, abandons fading wealth: And poore and sparing abstinence lettes in the lasting health: Deny me not thy felowship, graunt me thy company: Helpe now to saue a sinfull soul•• that eraues a remedy. So shall I bridell foule desire, and thou do seruice great To him, that hath prepard for vs (I hope) a heauenly seat. He said, and staid, and Hermit then with bended lookes to skies, With heaued armes, & watrie plants directs his tale this wyse. That faith, which Samuell possest, God graunt thée to enioy: God send thée Samsōs strēgth to help when feeud would thee annoy. As wise as Salomon the wise, as chast as Iacobs sonne: As constant as Abednago: whom, fyrie flames did shunne.

Hould here my shaking hand (qd he) I do imbrace thy will: Be thou to me a lasting mate, if deeds thy words fulfill. Thus is our lusty courtier made, (by taking small degree) An hermit, poore, and learneth now a holy man to be. whom I must leaue amidst his rootes (in steed•• of dainty cates) And now vnto the traueler, (that is come to the gates. Of Scot••ish court) I must retourne, who craues in gentill wise To speake with fayre Ieneuora that careles doth deuise. Of sundry sports amongst her mayd•• she is aduertised Of traueler, and sends for him he comes nye chockt with dred. And after humble dutie done, and trembling euery vayne: With hollow voyce, ••is paly lippes he thus to speake did strayne. what newes (oh Princesse) I do bring what message I declare: If good, or bad, as tis vnknown, so let thy highnes spare. The skilles m••ssenger, that is by faithfull promise bound: This ruthful message to pronounce, and in thine eares to sound.

The same, which wretched cati••e ••, with these myne eyes did see: Which as they are, and as I was comma••nded, take from mee. Through to much sight, Ariodant hath found vntimely dea••h: And yelded to the greedy streame his last departing breath: This he did say, which I haue showd vnto your maiestie: And then he lept into the streame, and died, (oh ruth to see••) Now to your skilfull iudgements, I oh Ladies do commit: To show vpon these carefull newes what kinde of cruell fit. Opprest vnhappy Princes ghost, what thoughts of endles payne, what scorching grief, what frose feare within her temples rayne. What flashing blud doth bo••le within her limmes of heauenly mould: What trembling dread doth shake eche ioynt then nipping ise more could. Such tearmes (I say) of mynde opprest I leaue vnto thy skill: Oh Phenix byrd, that of like ••oyes for friend hast found thy fill. But sith (my Lordes) your doughtfull heade•• can hardly deeme such fittes: To ••well in Ladies pleasant heades, I will inforce my wittes.

To tell you here the whole discourse of her lamenting case: And eke what pensiue passions loue within her hart did place. This message dark, pronoūced thus, the messenger departs: But message he doth leaue behinde: to sauce the Princes smartes. The sound wherof no soner had perst through her listing eare: But after it ••nto her head do folow stormes of feare. Which makes the goldē frisled hear•• right vp in head to stand: And fury for•••• her christall eyes, to burne like fire brand. O••t from her nose & mouth doth pas, a streame of gushing ••loud: And eke like rubie trickling dr••pp•••• f••••m bathed eyes do scu••. From gasping throate no breath proceédes, eche limme hath lost his life: Twixt sobbing ••art and dreadfull death, appeares a mortall strife. Her 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ioynte, with senceles corse, doo founder to the ground: In fine, eche péece, eche part, and all are fallen into a sound. But (Lord) what sturre the Ladies kéep•• what mones the maydes do make: What skréekes, and cries, they send to skies, what carefull paynes they take,

For to releaue their mistres deare, whom they did loue so well: Doth passe my wit, and skilles head, in writing plaine to tell. For one with careles hand her tender fingers wring: And she with pinching of her nose doth make the bloud out spring. This matron bends her heauy head, down to her crased brest: And this, her ioyned iawes and téeth, doth force with key to wrest. She cales for Aqua fortis, and Ieneuora she cryes: And she in steed of helping hand, spends teares from drowned eyes For troth no old experimen that dying fittes could cure: No teares, no cries, no dolefull tune, that sorow can procure: But these bewayling Ladies, haue at full attempted, and With willing hart & carefull mynd, assayd and tane in hand. T••rough which attempts, & vsing so her sensles figure fayre: Out from her ••ha••ed mouth doth pa•• a slender breathing ayre. And then her setted eyes in head, she heauily doth roule: As thogh she presently would yeld•• v••to the heauens her soule.

And thus with groning voyce she sayes, oh haples harmefull handes: That would not suffer death to rid my gh••st from carefull bands. Oh careles foes what profittes you, to sée me diyng liue: Wh••t shal you gaine to sée this hand my deadfull stroake to giue. Oh dismall day of my d••••tresse, oh my Ariodant: Nought ••ls but my departing soule, thy flying ghost doth want. which, (sith thy life was my increase) thy death shall now inforce: By bloudy hands to yeld to thée, with wounding of my corse. But oh, what ••ight so much annoyd thy comely personage: That vnto thy Ieneuora, thou couldst doo such outrage? In drowning y^• which I more deere then friends or life di•• h••uld, The sight wherof broght helth to me, when I did it behould. What sight so vile, the vew wherof could maister so thy mynde, That vnto me thy vowed friend thou couldst be so vnkinde? Did euer signe of foule vntruth, appeare before thy sight? Did euer deed or word make false that faith that I did plight?

To thée: and which I neuer sought since first I ••ound to lo••••? Dorst euer yet these lippes of myne, presume for to disclose. (Till now to late) our ••ecret loue? oh speake thou flying ••prite, And ease me of this one conceit, as thou art faithfull knight) To late, to late. (a lasse) I crie, in vayne I wast my breath: But out to soone: to soone, (a lasse) I wayle thy cruell death. And shall I liue bereud of fri••nd, shall mourning let in age? And ist enough with heauy mones, my passio••s to asswage? No, no, myne owne Ariodant my first approued frend: And eke ••he last with whom I mynd my dayes in loue to spend: Euen as thy liuely feature, inforst me to thy loue: So shall thy death, let in my death, as time right well sh••ll proue. And as she did begin at fi••st, nie chockt with mortall sound: Euen so she endes her heauy plaint, with falling down to ground. Amidst ••••ele stormes of deadly grief and p••ssi••ns ••••oarde with payne: Rep••rt w••th treble sounding voyce his yelling ••••rdaie d••th strayne.

And puttes into eche open eare, how that by sel•• consent: Amidst the streame Ariodant, his latest dayes hath spent. And now into Lurcanios eares, this heauy newes he blowes: And how, •• when, he drownd him self to him he plainly show••s. wherwith y^• carefull brother caught, with sting of pearsing death: Resines his warlike force, and falles ther••with downe to the earth. Wher after many griping grones, inforst by grief of mynd: His noble hart hath wonne by force his banisht breathing wynd. But festred lies in hart the care, that troubles euery vayne: And déep in thought is lodgd y^• cause, of this newe proued payne. The force wherof so calmed hath his flerce coragious hart: That see from eyes lōg time dryd vp, a floud of teares depart. Which mixed are with heauy sobbes from manlike broyling brest: And compast in with smoking sighes, and flames of great vnrest. All these in dungeon deepe below Alecto fiers espies: Whose nature is, in vexed ha••t pale hatred to deuise.

Wherfore (hir snaky heares wound vp) she leaues hir lothsome denne And flies vnto the Scottish court: wheras, ••urcanio then Was heaue••y bewayling of his wretched brothers death, To whome (like aged matron dight,) she ••pends this diuelish breath. When shall thy childish plaints haue ende? when shal thy cares be spent? when shal thy latest sighes be brethed that tende to smal intent? Oh, false vnto thy brothers ghost, doo womēns mones suffise, To answer that, which for reueng•• to thee eche houre cries? Shal murder thus be suffored? shall bloudie hands enioye A longer life, is this the loue thou sekst for to imploye On him, that (whilst he liued on erth) held thée then lyfe more deare? Is this a brothers iust rewarde? dost thou such friendship beare Unto thy most abused friend? and canst thou liue to see Thy brother dead, his foe alyue•• hym sterud, and she styll free? hath nature formd thee void of witte? (oh cruell to thy kinde) Hath pitie so asso••ed, this thy worthy warlike minde?

That neither brothers amitie, ne lynke of iustice lore, Can moue thee for this foule offence iust iudgement to implore? Leaue thou these lamentations long, drie vp these childish teares, And spedely sée that thou put into thy souereignes cares: How that the Prince Ieneuora dishonored hath her state: In feeding her dishonest lust with one thou sawest of late, And that of body she is false, see thou defend with force: So shalt thou yelde a iust rewarde, by burning of her corse. This spightfull spight, thus vomited from vgly lothsome pate A snake she pulles which for to moue Lurcanio more to hate. She throwes into his bosome right, wher stinging it remaynes: And poysneth so eche ioynt & limme, and swelles so all his vaynes, That raging, (like a f••an••ike beast,) vnto the king he hies: To whome, his dutie finished, this tale he doth deu••se. That fayth (oh king) which subiectes bare vnto their soncraigne: That io•••• that to their Princely st••te, within their harts remayne.

That care which to their high renowne, and honor eke they haue: And last, that great regard they vse, their vertue still to saue: Hath forst my trembling tongue to speake against the l••••t of mynde, and charged my closed lippes to tell, that duties force doth binde. Which newes, though some vnrest do bringe vnto your horie heares, Yet yelding iustice for the same, gaynes life that neuer weares Oh worthy king, and my liege Lord (though but alyde by vowe) The noble intertainment, which I haue receiued of you, Commaundes me not to hide a fact, so hemous from your grace, ••hough déede be done by such anon••, as comes of r••yall rare. Whordom (oh king) committed by the Prince Ieneuora It is, that so hath moued my tongue and lippes from l••nger staie. which th••se my eyes (to soone) haue séene at place and time vnfit: In proufe wherof, ••oo here my gage, I will my lyfe commit Into his hands, that giues the palme vnto the faithful wight, and yeldes the gayne of victorie to him that fights in right.

I néede not now declare what thoughte •• oppresse the pensiue king, Ne what ill rest to aged head, these careful newes doo bring: Sith prone it is to testie age to take in fretting wise A small offence, and euery fault is great before their eies. wherfore his present panges I passe, I leaue his heauy hart Wrapt in with web of carefulnes, and gript in graue of smart: And to this kings reply, I will direct my penne againe, Who pausing long from carefull thought•• at last he doth refraine, and thus he sayes. LUrcanio, thy seruice good and faithfull vnto me, Doth arg••e in my doughtfull head, thy minde from falshood free: But if my age be not disceiud, if fame doo not beguile My hoping hart, such shameful actes are fardest in exile from hir whom thou hast now accusd whose parents goodly age, Was neuer iustly tay••ted with a deede of such outrage. Wherfore sith doughtfull yet it lies, within our princely minde And sith none but Lurcanio. this foule abuse doth finde

We will before our sentence geuen examine this accusd: That hath by whordom (as thou saist) our state so much abusd. And least thou deeme mée partiall, I do accept thy gage Condicionly, that thou thy self, this proferd fight shalt wage Against who listeth to mainteine her truth against thy might (Like to our auncient laws ordeind) by force of combat fight. And it thou gaine the victory. then she to flames of fire: If vanquist thou, she frée shall liue, thou death shalt haue for hire. Which fight we wil shalbe performd vpon the fiftéenth day: Ensuing next, when God (I trust) the right with right will pay. So sayd, Lurcanio leaues the King, and to his chamber hies: Wher for his brothers death he doth renewe his wonted cries. But careful king, (whē straūger was departed from his sight:) (In minde to trie his truth herein) doth send a faithfull knight. For carefull Ieneuora whom messenger doth finde: Amidst her maydes lamenting still with head to brest inclind••.

To whome his dutie finished, his message he doth show, Thef••e•• wherof Ieneuora when perf••••tly doth knowe, ••he wiping cleane her bathed cheke•• and trimmeth vp her heare, Doth so repaire vnto the king, though with vnchaunged cheare. To whome, she is no sooner come, but voydance then is made Of eche estate, and then the king with trickling teares thus sayde. They say, that childe thrise cursed is, whose vile and viciou•• life, Doth cause the louing parents dye consumde with carefull strife which endles grief, god grant (qd he) thy actes force me not proue, But that thy hoped vertues doo, from such conceits me moue. Tis so (qd he) Ieneuora whylst in our Princely court We weard away our crooked age, lyke to our wonted sort: Before our presence doth appeare, the stout Lurcanio, Who of free will dyd iustifie and threw downe gage also To proue: that thou hast don the déede that hath deserued fyre, I meane that thou hast purchast deth through whordoms foule desire.

which déede, him selfe did see he vowd at place an••time vnmeet•• And iudgement he did craue also for such offence most fitte. which iudgement I haue stayed yet, to heare what thou canst saye: why dreadful doome of present death, should longer for thee staye. This sayd, the king complete with car•• doth staye his choked breath: And feeles the force of mortall ache, and latest pangs of death. But she, whose wretched ghost hath felt the worst of all her smart, With countnance fearse (disdayning lyfe) all feare doth set appart, And answers thus vnto the king, my ••ord and soueraigne. Of catiues all she wretch is m••st she feeles most store of payne. whose heauy hap doth rather ••idde the tongue for to confesse Untroth, then by accusing tale to pleade for her redresse. Oh king, of whom this earthly shap•• by ••ome I doo enioye, Let not these latest woords of mine, thy Princely mynde annoy: But heare indifferently what cares, thy childe doth now susteyne: That rather seekes to suffer death, then long to taste this payne.

My dread, and soueraine Lord and kyng thy skilfull horie heares Know, well, how from the cradell vp vnto the latest yeares: We subiect are to euery sinne, and thrald of natures kinde, By thought, by woord, by déede, and sight vnto the fancies blynde Of worldly cares, and nought there is within our sinfull hart But fancies fond, which reason willes should tast a lasting smart. Such thoughts, such words, such déedes, and fights oh king haue rulde in me: And doo, and will, tyll of the yok•• of life my ••imm••s he frée. Amongst which sinfull passions, one 〈◊〉〈◊〉 annoyed my minde, One act ther 〈◊〉〈◊〉 wherin (oh king) I greatest griefe doo finde: which fith both time & present stat•• byds t••ll vnto your grace, I will disclose, & from my hart all damps of feare displace. wherby I shal driue dought (I trust) out from your doughtfull breast, And make you priuie of such hap•• as in me lurking reast. Amongst the train of this your court and of your courtiers stout, Amongst the worthy company of all the courtly rought:

There was (your highnes knowes right wel) one knight Ariodant: In whom that should adorne a man, no gift at all did want. A seemely wight, of spotles faith, although an alien borne: Whose shape with thousand comely gifte•• dame nature did adorne. His noblenes, his grace, and shape, enforce my virgins hart: Lōg time to plunge in goulfs of care and tast of louers smart. He turnd my chast disposed mynde from thoughtes of maydens life: And taught me seke to salue y^• wound of Cupides fatall knife. But sée (the heuens I think it would) that stroke which pearst my brest, Did carue in him a griefly gashe and in his hart did rest. Thimpoisned push, which forced him to feele lyke fittes and payne: And in like storms of troubled mind long time for to remayne. Till y^• a means he found, which way he mought disclose his loue To me, and eke for to bewray, that Cupides force did moue. Which when I vnderstood, no wight did euer tast like ioye As I (glad soule) that banisht then that earst did me annoy.

And waying long his vertues great, and eke his good intent: (Which caused my affection) at last I did consent. Unto his loue and choosing then him as my dearest frend, I did conclude in wedlocked band, w••••h him my life to spend: But see the fr••tes of this our blisse, see here vnstable state: See, see (oh King) the end of all, this our most happy ••ate. Whylst we in linke of loyall loue thus led our restles life: And whylst my careles hart did ioy•• the chaunge of wonted strife. I know not I, what cruell fact inforst my hartes delight: My frend, myne own Ariodant, to worke this cruell s••ight. On me, amidst the choking streame•• (oh fierse vntimely death) He drownd him self, & to the waues he did resigne his breath. whose death (oh hart) shal work thiwo and ende thy wonted ioye: And force my heauy head to learne, howe life I may destroy. Yet know (oh Syr) in all this loue, nought did offend but thought: Nought trespased, but that vnknown to thée (oh King) I sought

To choose a feare of race vnfit, vnto your Princely state: Whose r••ial ti••e cōmaūds me choose a farre more firter mate. But if this gayne, by breach of lawe the death of scorching fyre: Then do pron••ū••e the sentence stayd tis death I so desire. Only let this perswade your mynde no eye did euer see: This corpse of myne, with whordoms bl••e, so spotted for to bee. This long discourse of amours past, and eke de••iall made: That neuer cloud of shame could yet her honor iustly shade. She stayd her wery iawes, and ends her heauy panting breath: And wonted wo••s doo force herfall, in sound downe to the earth. The aged King that sees this fitte, nye caught with like disease, with shaking hāds her temples rubs and seekes eche way tappease. These choking griefs, but all in vain he rubs and chafes his childe: For death hath nummed euery part, and life is now exilde. Til panting hart with strained might receiues his wonted force: And lets in wholsome breath again•• into the senceles corse.

which ioyful king (with hart reuyud) doth see and driueth feare Away, and strayning then his sprites, he thus the Princes doth cheare. I was or this resolued long of thy vnspotted grace My sweete and deare Ieneuora, wherfore in hart displace. These cankerd cares frō tender brest feare not the paynes of death: Let n••t the losse of desprate freend force thee resigne thy breath. For I not only will prouide for sauegard of thy life: But for a ••rend that shall thée please and gard thy hart from strife. And kissing long her rubie lippes and wiping cleane her eyes: He takes her by the christall hand and ceaseth to deuise Of former talke, and then himself, conueies her to her court: Wher, (he once gone) she doth renew her wonted carefull sport. But pensiue king doth tract no tyme ne leng••r makes delay: For to prouide a champion, to helpe in this assay. Wherfore w^t blast of trompets sound it is proclaymed eche whe••e: That who so list in mortall fight his speare and armour beare.

Against the stout Lurcanio, and conquere him in fight•• Shall haue to wife Ieneuora, and all her Princely right. now with this message pric•• y^• postes the Herhautes trie their steades: He rides to Brutus worthy realme, he takes the way that leades To famouse Fraunce, & he both hi•• vnto an other soyl•••• In fine, eche one for Princes doth by land and sea t••••rmoyle. But bootles do the Postes proclayme this booty daungerous: For none list venter, for the gayne a deed so perilous. Wherfore cōplet with cares they doo returne to court agayne: And ther declare the ill successe, of this their message vayne. But see the hap, one of these Postes returning voyd of ayde: Rydes by the Hermitage, wheras Ariodant stayd. And meeting then the Hermit ould, that sought for rootes abroade: (Their greetings don) his hed he doth of message then vnloade. And showes vnto the holy syre, howe Prince Ieneuora For lacke of ayde should burned be vpon the second day.

Ensuing next, and then be telles how she was first accusde By one, that sayde by whordom vyl•• she had her selfe abusde. Thus when they chatted had inough the Poste leaues of his t••lke: And plies to court, and Hermit he vnto his home doth walke. Wher he no sooner i•• arivde, but (like to wonted sort) These nouels to his holy mate he doth forthwith report. But who had seene y^• coūtnaunce thē of this Ariodant: And markt how colour went & came and how his vaines did pant. Mo••ght wel haue de••de some present pange had vext his troubled minde: And that by this report, his hart some stra••••ge conceit did finde, For troth, this tale no sooner ••oulde, and hard w••th open care: but ••••oarming thoghts, in rauisht hed doo cluster now a reare. Yet vertue, ielously doth blame. his fickell wauring minde: And cōstancie condems his thoughts that flie like dust in wynde. But amours old, prouokes his hart•• to die in her defence: Record of former amitie, forgettes supposd offence.

The diyng spar••s of ••upides coales do now reuiue againe: Her b••utie great and comelines inforseth former pa••ne. His youthfull yeares begin to scorne such pinching miserie: This pining diet makes him loth such ••••ly penurie. Hope doth assure him to winne her true an•• faithfull loue: If for her sake, in her defence: he will this battell proue. Now nature, doth forbid him fight against Lurcanio: (For he it is he knows right well) that was the Princes so. Loue telles him that his brother hath deserued death by right: In that he hath accused her that is the lampe of light. Thus fansi••s rule within his head, as motion•• moue the minde: And changing thoughts do alter still, as reason right doth finde. But to conclude deuotion droups, poore penury is past: youth likes not now to purchase heuē with faint and feeble ••ast. The ciuill fight with brother, he regardes n••owhit at all: His loye, his care, his 〈◊〉〈◊〉, his death, he cares not what befall.

Wherfore, as he vnknowen did come vnto the Hermitage: So he departs by stealth, without farewell to father age. And wanders in the fieldes, till that the mantell blacke did hide: The gladsome day and then he ••yes vnto the towne vnsyide. Wher secretly he comes vnto, his well approued host: (Whose frendship stood him in great stée•• when cares annoyd him most.) To whom whē long he had discourst of his aduentures all: He doth disclose what he intends and sayes, (what so befall) He will against his brother fight to saue his Ladies life: Or els before her, end his dayes, on point of brothers knife. Wherfore, he willes him to prouide, a complet armour sure: That he the better may, against his brothers force indure. And sturdy speare, & shield as stiffe he willes him to prouide: And barbed steed, both strong & light, that tempest like will glyde. All these he willes him to prepare and all of colour black: For Sables shall bewray (quoth he) o•• wanted ioyes my wrack.

Thus leaue I now the busy hoste, and eke coragious gest: Prepa••ing armour such as may desend the straunger best. And to the court complet with care My pen and I must plie: To tel their dole, their grief, their wo and mones of miserie. The wery Postes are nowe return•• vnto the heauy court: Wher euery one his seurall hap doth dolefully report. But when the aged king perceiues, no ayde is to be found: His weake and feeble limmes do fall for sorow to the ground. His counsell eke (that see the cares of their vnhappy king) Doo féele welnie his griefe and smart and wéepe, and wayle, and wring Their fingers, & with drowned eyes lament his wretched state: And with a thousand doles & plaints they rew his ruthfull fate. Yet seyng him so sunke in grief, and fearing present death: They seeke to banish diyng panges, by reasons wholesome breath. But sooner mought y^• moūtain moue or sea forsake his tide: Thē gnawing fits to want the forcs that through eche part do slide.

Of wythord age, and crooked lymmes, and styng so ••eble hart: That ioye is gone, and blisse resingde, care turnes good happe to smart. This is the sely Syers state, the Ladies leade like life: With whome, nought els but teares, & cries, and heauines is ryfe. For when they heare no helpe is founde, to ayde the Lady deare: Eche chamber sounds of solom tunes, and cares bring dreadfull feare, So much, that see in clustring heapes, whylst trembling maydens keepe, And there, whylst with one perfect voyce, they wayle, they wo, and weepe: This fearful soule, doth see (she thinkes) the shape of ou••ly sprightes: She heares in rynging care the sounde of clam••••s loud and skrykes. The outmost of the prease, doth feale a pull••ng hand to straine Her slender arme, and shrinkes away, and couldly sweates for payne. Thus feare, thus care, lamenting long, and spring of brackish teares: With drouping dreade, and freating fittes, in hart op••rest appeares, But she, for whome was all this care, that had most cause to wayle, Is voyde of carefulnes for death, ne griefe doth her assayle:

Saue death of her Ariodant, that was, th••n corsies bayne More worse: wherfore for presēt deth the wisheth still in vaine. Ye•• bea••es she with aduised mynd••, the Prelates sage aduise: That wils her to forget the world, and wonted ioyes despise. And biddes her call to mind, the blisse that neuer shall haue ende: Wher••o by faith and stedfast troth she shortly shal assend. He byddes her cast the feare of death, from bounds of godly brest: For he can sh••elde her hart (he s••••••s) from payne, that bringeth rest. He voucheth sacred scriptures now, to st••blish her beliefe: He tels what ioy the soule receiues, when flesh doth suffer griefe And lastly, he perswades her that she gaines by giltles death, A seate amongst the martyrd saints, that seede on heauenly breath. As Abell doth•• whose cruell death the cursed Cayn doth rewe. Who moud with indignation. his natiue brother slew. With these de••out perswasions the Prince is mortifide, Who doth for latest brunt of death with wellyng minde abide.

Amongst these passions ••ragicall and actes of en••les care: List now my Lorde••, ••ow Polinesse that wretched Duke doth fare. Whose giltie mind findes littel case, so much doth feare oppresse His traitrous hart, least that Dalind his treason should con••••sse Wherfore, (for greater suertie of this conc••ald offence) He doth deuise a cruell crime through mariage cl••kte pretence. That is•• for to perswade Dalind the morow next, he will By sacred law of spousals rightes, his promyse vowde fulfill. And her consent once gotten, he deuiseth for to send: Her with two trusty men of his vnto a wood, to thende. There to bereue from her, her life insteede of wedlockes band: Therby to ease his doughtfull breast that fearfull yet doth stand. But whilst hereof his wits doo muse sée wher Dalinda cummes: Whose hasty pase and heauy cheare his sences throughly nummes. To whom, her reuerence performde, she shows how that the king ••ath geuē vnto the Steward charge that he foorthwith should bring.

Unto his presence, all the trayn•• of carefull Princes grace: Of purpose to examine them of this accused case. (I thinke qd she) wherfore my Lord, I thought conuenient: Upon a matter of such wayght, to know your wise intent. This said, the subtil Duke (as though he weare to séeke for wittes) A while with fired eyes on ground on seate he musing sittes. But when he had dissembled long his answere ready made: With smiling chéer, & foulded armes thus vnto her he sayd. I neuer was deceiud (qd he) of thy assured troth Mine own, and chiefest faithful frend to whom I would be loth That any yot of feule mishappe, should chaunce or els befall: Or that to any fretting grief, thy frée mynde should be thrall. But doo not thou dismay thy self I will prouide for thée: I will deuise and seeke forthwith for thy best suertie. I haue a house not farre from hence, beyond the mightie wood: Wherto I will thou do repayre, (if so thou thinkest good.)

By breake of daye the morow next, where thou shalt stay for me, who wil vpon the Princesse death, with spee••e come visit thée. And ther by deede performe the thing that vow did earst protest, By knitting 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the wedlocks knot that I so much request. The ••ot••ng mayde misdoughts no guyl•• the soone doth condiscende Unto his tale, and all that night the ••ath in s••crete spende. But she once gon, the Duke sends for two trustie men of his, Whose cur••••d hands with murdred blou•• had ben imbrude ere this: To whom whē long he had discourst, what faith they ought to beare Unto theyr Lord, and eke what troth within them ought tappeare: He tels what forst him send for them and how it was his wyll: That whylst they roade amydst the wood, they should Dalinda kyll The ruffyns vile, with smal request moude to so foule a déede: Consent vnto their truell Lord•• and show them selues agree 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Unto his hest. Who for to moue them more vnto this sinne, with promise great of large reward•• he doth them fully winne.

By this the pensiue daye is past, and now the mourning shade Of black and fearefull night appeares: and doth eche where inuade. Wherin iudge you what ease they take, that are wrapt in with wo, And coucht in caue of carefulnes, and bathd in bed also: Iudge you the fathers quiet ease, and deeme the daughters rest, Thinke how the goulden sleape doth please the ghost with griefe opprest. And I will tell how night is gone, with countenance darke and sad: Because amydst the restles court so littel ease he had. And he thus gone Aurora showes her chearful visage gray, And after her the blushing Phebe his countnance doth bewray. Who scarce doth clime on lowest steppe, when as the watching mayde, (Dalinda) leaues her lothed sleepe, and hasteth (as afrayde To come to late) to Polinesse, who puttes her in the guide Of those vngracious Ruffians, that he appoynts to ryde With her, vnto his house exprest, and biddes them tary there (Dissemblyng wise) till he doth come to quench the sparkes of feare.

(If any then did ••indell in the rechles maydens minde) Who hopes for troth, as erst she hard so euery thing to finde. Thus ryde they foorth, and riding I will leaue them for a whyle: And to the carefull court agayne that doth forthwith exile. His drousie domps, I will returne and g••yde my wery hand: And of their last extreamest fittes who list to understand. shall heare the ende. THe wery night hath brought again the dry and dreadfull day: When heauy lookes, & cloudy sighes, a storme of eares bewray. The court hath left his tossed couch, their restles bedde all sh••nne: The ladies haue their persing plaints and dolefull tune begonne. Amidst a w••rld of griefes the king forsakes his bathed bedde: Who for the Prince Ieneuora, a floud of teares hath shedde. But kingly iustice ruling still within his regall mind: Doth t••ll hi•• that the day is come which he of late assignde. When either force of victors hand, should fade Lurcanio: Or els in fl••mes I••neuora, her sences should fo••go.

These thoughts of iustice force him clek••. the anguish of his hart: Affection lurkes in panting breast, in secreat lodgeth smart. Wherfore in hastie wise he doth commaund vnto the fyre The giltles Princes whose desertes, gayne not so foule a hyre. Whose sentence known, Ieneuora obeyes with pleased minde Who decking her like her estate with lemmes of precious kinde. Like heuenly ghost not earthly wight she teares her chariot straight That couerd is with black, on whom a rought of Ladies waight. whose moorn••g wéeds declare y^• care•• of their disquiet hartes: And argue to the gasing eye, the proufe of present smartes. Next them, the king his train is past, whose heauy pensiue cheare: Agree with those black solom lutes, which they that day did weare. Then folow•• carefull Counselers. and then the aged king In colour like, and after them a world of folke do fling. In this aray, they are aryvd•• vpon the dreadfull place: wher Princesse must resigne her lyf••, if that some sparke of grace.

Bety••e her not, ther she abydes to tast her latest care: Amidst the gho••••ly Prelates that of heauenly ioyes declare. The kyng scarce set on stately seate but all in complet steele Lurcanio comes vnto the liste, his chalenge to fulfill. Who seene by false Duke Polinesse, that then was Martiall: To guyde the feeld, he doth demaund of him the summe and all. Of that he sought within the listes, to whom Lurcanio: Thus sayd, I am approched here to proue against my so. That by the filthy whordoms crime, which I (qd he) did see: Ieneuora deserued hath, here burned for to bee. This sayd, he entres in the lystes and by the relickes there: In proufe of that which earst he said he doth deuoutly sweare. Nought wants but execution now, for that they only stay: Which to performe, Ieneuora ••oncludes without delay. Who first disrobes her selfe of all her Princely braue attire: And only in her kyrtell she, doth mynde to taste the fire.

Then prostrate on the ground she falle••, and with a cherefull voyce: She prayes to God, with whom she hopes shortly for to reioyce. But who had seene the waylings then, of all the lookers on: And how ech eye is drowned w^•t cars and euery month doth mone. mought wel haue seen y^• mothers grief for death of loued childe: And fathers plaint for nati••e sonne, whose life feares death exilde. Whilst thus the Princesse prepares her selfe vnto her heauy feast: And whilst ech on lamenting stayes, with ruthfull sighyng breast. Sée wher a Knight stands houering, clad all in armour blacke: And mounted on a barbed stéede with sheeld behind his backe. A mighty speare in hand he helde and swoord gyrt by his side, His visar close before his face, least that he weare discride. The Marshall spyes this Knight vnknown•• and as he sayd before, So now he doth demaund also, of him, the cause, wherfore: He is arivd in that aray amydst that worthy presse, To whom Ariodant doth these knightlike wordes expresse:

To saue (qd he) from fyry flames this false accused wight: Though Scots do feare, I do inten••, to venter life and might: Nought doughting but as giltles she condempned is to die: So this my spear and sword (I trust) her truth right well shall trie. The straunger enters thus the liste•• wher stoutly he doth sweare: That of that fowle supposed crime Ieneuora is cleare. This don, without a lenger stay, the Heraultes crie to fight: Now do your best, & god him shéel•• that drawes his sword in right. Lurcani•• leaues now to muse, his speare is coucht in rest: He forward like the winde doth 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with sheld before his brest? Ariodant, not ignorant with whom he is to fight: Sets forward to with thundring pase and meetes his brother right. •• he spears all crusht do mount aloft eche keepes his saddell sure: Ariodant against his so, doth mightely indure. Then leaue they foming steades, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 they draw their shining blades: Wherwith ech one his enemy, with courage stout inuades.

He smytes a car••ing blowe vpon, his aduersaries shelde: And he doth send a cantell from, his helmet to the feelde. Lurcanio is nothing nice, of his approued might: Ne yet Ariodant behinde, his almes for to requight. But farre vnegall is the match, Lurcanio seemes to play: When as Ariodant is forst, to ward, or els decay, yet as he can he lendes a blowe, and then he shiftes againe: From dint of brothers stroke, whose forse would well requite his payne. Thus he doth strike, and he the blow receiues vpon his shelde: And he againe, (the vantage spyde) a buffet byg doth yelde. Lurcanio thinks of brothers death, and fightes like Lyon fierse: Ariodant, (his Ladie spied) both steele and male doth pearse. with bluddy blads thei prick & thrust the ground is dyd•• with blou••e Now breath they both, & now againe they rage like Tigers wood In this conflict I must them leaue, eche seeking others ende: And to Dalinda once againe, my pen and I must bende.

Who once aryvde within the wood, wher she must yeld her life: In steed of sol••m mariage, on edge of Ruffyns knyfe. They bid her light of from her horse, and with a countnance fie••s: The sum of that they ha•• in charge to her they do rehears. which whē she knew, frō wonted talk her closed lippes refrayne: And feare of death do force her féele the panges of deadly payne. Her careles head, late occupid•• with blissed wedlock••s bandes Is comefortles, & now poore wretch as stone in wall she standes. So farre her present thoughts be od, as hope of ••uertie: And now to sure signes of smart and stormes of miserie. But making of necessitie a present vertue, she Decrees as time did serue to make her soule from bondage frée. And kneling then vpon the ground betwixt these ghostly mates: That mynd by caruing of her head to ende ••er latest fates. She prayes vnto the Creator to pardon her offence: And that he would forget her sinne and way her penitence.

Then w^t a streame of tears she rews her Ladies giltles death: For whom, the anguish of her hart. doth choke welny her breath. What should I say, for thousand sins which she did neuer know: (To length y^• time) she praies to God that he will mercy show. but see how in most daūgerous tydes oft times doth happen blisse: Sée how in present stroke of death the hart releeued is. whilst thus she prays aduēture droue through search of nearest way: To Scottish court, vpon the place wher she deuout doth pray. The famous knight Raynaldo, who beholding with his eye: betwixt two Ruffians naked swords a Lady prest to die. He spurs his Stéed, & draws his blade and driues vnto them twoo: In mynde to reseue if he could that carefull wight from woo. The tormenters that saw him come dispayring of their might: Forsake y^• mayd & mount on Steeds and saue them selues by fight. which when Dalinda vews, she thus vnto Raynald gan say: Yet let me craue this curtes••e or thou depart away.

(Oh worthy Knight,) that is, y^• thou wilt be my guyde vnto The most vnhapiest Scottish court and most complete with woe. Wher I shal bring the ioyfulst news that euer came to kyng: And tell the gladdest tale that earst, a messenger did bring. Raynaldo grauntes to her desire she is now horst againe: They forward poste, and as they ride she greatly doth complaine. Of false Duke Polinessos guyle she blames his subtill wilte: And for reuenge to god she cries for such offence most fitte. Thus weary time is spent, and now they are within the vewe: of flaming bronds of glistring swords and of the Scottish crewe. Thē with a strayne•• balowing voice stay how Raynaldo cries: Depart the Knightes, & with y^• word ••••ne casteth vp his eyes. To see from whence proceeds y^• voice that ringes so in their eares: And therwithall Raynaldo and Dalinda, do appeare. who passing throgh y^• mightie prease, at last approche the seate: Of Scottish King, wheras Dalind beginnes for to intreate.

Of all the treason which the Duke and she did late deuise, But crying first, staye Polinesse, thus to her tale she plies. Why shuld I lenger stay (oh wretch) why should my lippes refrayn From sounding out the perfect troth which hidden, séekes to stayne The giltles Imphe of vertues schoole whose spotlesse troth doth crie For iust reuenge for such offence, to him that rules skie. Oh king let dought of daughters crime, no more dismaye thy mynde. Ne let thy hart to feareful thoughts, for princes be inclinde: For this thryse cursed tongue of myne, shall plainly show to thee: Who did offende, who gaind this fire, from which the prince is frée. And though mine own reproch, I must blase here amidst this presse, Yet gnawing thoughts of gilty minde, inforce me troth confesse. This Duke (oh king) this Polinesse this false disceitful Knight And I vnhappiest wretch it was, that gaynd these flames of right. For sée disceit: whilst in the court, I led a rechles race, And whylst amongst the courtly trayne, I servde the princes grace.

There came to me this Polinesse, who with a smyling chere, And glosing woords gan long discours•• what friendship he did beare To me, and how his whole desire was to obteyne my loue Which for to get with tedious sute, he séekes me long to proue. But see, as forced watch doth make, the sauage Hauke to fist: As strained bitte the Coult vntamd, doth make apt to the lift: So did this Dukes continuall sute enforce me to consent: In hope of lawfull mariage, vnto his false intent. The conquest gaind, he showes him pleas'd, and I, in hope of blisse, Doo finde my selfe not discontent, at thapp•• happe of this. This past, and I remayning still within the princesse court: Upon a day Duke Polinesse thus to me gan report. If that I thought my former woords wherof such perfect force, As mought (qd he) from wauering minde all damps of dought d••uor••e: I would refraine that now I mynde in presence here declare, And closly in my secrete mynde, such passions I would spare.

But déede shal showe the summe (qd he,) of my well meaning hart, And eke in woordes my iust intent, to thee I shall impart. Thou knowst (qd he) what goulden tyme in seruice I haue spent: In hope to gayne at last for hyre the princesse like assent. Thou partli knowst, my faithful hart and loyall loue to hir: Thou knowest what diuers waies •• vs'd hir friendship for to styre. But only I to wel haue known how euel she did requite My vowed troth, and how my loue, she had in great despite. Which when with griefe I vewd (qd he) I sought by reasons skill To maister loue, and by aduise to tame affections will. And thinking that the second nayle, could soone expell the first, I hardly finde this moysture can asswage my former thrust. Thus tost am I with bylowes great of great vnrest (qd he) And onely finde by sage aduise, this only ••uertie. I thinke (qd he) the heauens it will, that that selfe same attyre Which she did weare, when first I did so much her loue desire.

Should quite my former thraled hart, of euell requsted loue: And from thy breast it doughts remayn•• dispairing doughts remoue. Wherfore I will, that with those robes, that prince in feast doth wear•• Hard by the outwast houses thou Dalinda shalt appeare To me where I in scorne of prince will tosse her princely trayne: And ther refigne the latest fittes, of my long proued payne. With smal request I graunted haue to his so sugred tale: And to thappointed place also, to come I did not fayle. Wher I in robes of princes grace, when sleape the prince possest: With Iu••ls, tablets, cheins, & ringes, did yelde to his request. This same was it, and that was I whome straunger so didisée: The night when feast in court was held•• wherof princesse is free. But heare oh king the ende of all, iudge of this traitrous part, Sée how the filed woords agreed, with false disceitfull hart. When giltles thus Lurcanio had accus'd the princesse grace And when for trial of her truth the tyme and setted place.

Was known to all, Duke Polinesse still caught I thinke with feare Least that this treason done by vs mought any wayes appeare: And doughting still my secret mynde he sought the only way By former pleasant ••ained woords, ••o worke my last decaye. And feeding then my hungry vayne, with Duches princely state: He mindes to put in practise now, his long pretensed hate. And sending me with Ruffians two, vnto a desert woode: (In steede of present mariage,) he seekes to shead my bloud. But see, betwixt their dredful blade•• whylst knelyng I dyd pray, And whilst for ende of my last words the tormenters did ••••aye: This Knight, my guide, aryvd vp••n, the place where I should dye: who savd my lyfe and forst my fooes, to leaue theyr armes, and flye. Thus haue you hard oh king (qd she) the troth of treason strong•• My gained death, his like desert, and your sustayned wrong. The summe of all this cruel crime. disclos'd thus to eche ••are: Reuiues theyr ••ying ••ares that earst were caught with dreadfull feare.

But Polinesse that heares theffe•••• of all this cruell deede Dis••losed thus, a heape of griefes which in his head doo breede. Yet as he had a countnance earst to woorke his owne de••ayr: So he den••••s all that which now Dalinda did bewray: And proferst therv••on to trie, his troth against his foe In combat fight, and gauntlet he, vnto the ground doth throw As chalenger, which Raynold spies, and doth receiue h••s gage, In mynde without a lenger stay the battell for to wage. And once ••••ayde in euery point, fit for a mortall fight: They mount on Stéeds, and with the speares ecne seekes his foe to spight. Duke Polinesse discharged hath, his spe••re that clymes the skies: But through both breast and backe the spea•••• of stout Raynaldo hics. Which when the Duke perceiues, and féeles, the panges of present death: And knowes his life doth fade away through want of gasping breath: He yeldes him selfe as recreant, and dy••ng doth confesse, In circumstance, the treason which Dalinda did expresse.

And how inforst throgh ielous minde which he did then suspect, Twixt princesse and Ariodant, he was thert•• direct. Then how his last deuise he vsde to moue Ariodant: That only his desired loue the Prince in hart did plant. Which only sight I know (qd he) was cause of straungers death And with that woord his sinful soule resingde his wicked breath. Whose carcase was no sooner dead, and life had lost his force: But in the mydst of flashing flames, his wounded senceles corse Entombed was, with ioyful shouts, that God did saue the right, And with deserued punishment, he did the giltie quight. But she, whose fired mynde to die, did loth a lenger lyfe: Augmenteth rather wonted woes then wants hir former strife. Wherfore she is in mynde oftyme•• to taste th•• force of fyre, For rather that, then lothsome lyfe, she gladly gan requyre. ••he king whose aged head did earst tast ne••er such great ioye To see the princesse giltles tryde, doth wonted cares distroy.

Who first calles for Ariodant that fought for Princes grace: Of whom he frēdly craues the sight of his desired face. Wherfore his head péece layde asid••, his visage is bewrayde: And then to pens••ue Princes thus, he knéelyng briefly sayd, How here oh thrise renouned prince had falshood brought to ende Thy woorthy race, whose spotles ly••e with saynts may wel contend? How nere had tresons force preuaild how neare had vile disceit Entrald thy noble giltles hart, with hidden falshods baytes? But oh how neare had my mistrust, ben cause of thy decaye: whose wretched head to sugred talk•• to greatly did obey? wherfore not only Polinesse, ne this Dalind deserue, A shamefull death, but myser I, whose faithles hart did swerue So farre fr••m duties lore, as gaines an euerlasting paine: And as he would haue ferder sayd, (through griefe) his lippes refrayn From farder talke, and sences fayle, and he doth fall to ground: And ther he lies, berevd of breath, and chokt with fainting sound••.

But when Ieneuora had vewde long tyme with persing eye: The face of her Ariodant: and plainly eke gan spye. by co••tnance, loke, by shape, & speach the same her fréend to bee: whō greedy stream had forst she feard to die in misery. Oh iudges that can, what fansies thē did rule within her mynd: What passing ioy, what happy blisse her crased brayne did finde. For neither head, ne tongue, ne hand can think, can tell, or wryte: The least or smalest percell of her late conceyvde delight. Not she her selfe, can ease the toyle of ioyfull panting hart: whose striuing force extreme delight to traunce doth straight conuert. And there as in a quiet sleape, a whyle she doth remayne: But once reuyvde, her dryry lippes, she thus to speake did strayne. And doth the guyder of my life, the only proppe and stay: Of this my wery limmes, yet lyue? oh happy thryse I say. Oh blessed fates, and dost thou liue? and do these eyes behould: Thy wished shape, whose comly lim•• these ••rmes so oft haue ••ould.

And liues in déed Ariodant, Ieneuoras delight: And was it he that for his frend•• so manfully did fight? Oh soppe of ioye more pleasant farre then wealth of worldly blisse: Oh soueraigne salue, nought cures so well the crased hart as this. Oh welcome thou more deare to me, then goods, then frendes, then life: A gest more gladder to my hart then cares carst caused strife. Thy health doth force me wish y^• lif•• which fame of thy decay Intised late through heauy lot, to serine in cloddes of clay. Amidst this tale a thousand tymes, they frendly do imbrace: And with their siluer tricki••ng drop•• eche bathe others face. She layes her happy head vpon her ioyfull louers brest: And he agayne his body bendes•• to yeld his Lady rest. Thus now in words, & now in déedes and now by signes of loue: Ech shows, y^• ioyned faithfull hartes doth such affections moue. The sight wherof brings youth again vnto the aged King: Whose trembling hart, for very ioy•• in blisfull breast doth spring.

But when this great felicitie, had vanquisht euery care: And when amidst this world of ioy••, eche on receivde his share. Thē by cōmaūdemēt trompets sound and oyes loude is cride, Wherfore the rought giue audience, and then the king thus sayd: How farre we are indetted to the heauenly powers deuine: My lords & frends, you haue wel séen this day before your eyne. As both by fatall chaunce, how this vyle treason was bewrayd: As how by knightly prowesse, which Ariodant assayde. Against his natiue brother, he hath savde Ieneuora: Frō fyry flames, & brought vs health that lookt for last decay. And last, how falshod payed is with death for gaind desert: A myrror good, for such as liue, infect with traytors hart. Wherfore as bounden dutie biddes, first let vs yelde the prayse: To him, that quites the innocent, and payes the false alwayes. And we (as reasons lore ••oth charge) will séeke for to requite: Forthwith receiued benefittes, with all our power and might,

For as to thou Ariodant, for this thy noble hart: Thy curtesi••, and loyall loue, ••e yelde thee this as part. Of recompence, take thou to wi•••• the Prince Ieneuora, and we, for maintnaūce of your state•• will soone prouyde a stay. Be thou to her a faithfull feare, and she a ••ouing wyfe: Beare du••ie to thy Lord and King, whilst thou hast breath and life. and sith by thée syr knight vnknown, this treason came to light: We will as best shal please thy hart thy frendship well requite. Lurcanio ••ke, sith brothers death prouokt thee to this ire: Shalt fréely liue, and vse our grace, as thou shalt best desire. For pardon of Ieneuora, small sute I thi••k will serue: Whose gentil mynd from pities lor•• as yet did neuer swarue. But as t•• thee Dalinda, sith thou soughtst by ••reason vyle: To seeke thy mistres death, we will that thou into exile. For euer shalt be put, and eke to runne a banisht race, Till better hope of truer hart, shall winne thée fauours grace.

This sentence sayde, the tossed caps doo cutte the cloudie skie: and eueri mouth, with strained voic•• God saue the King doo trie. The louers two, on groūd prostrate a thousand thankes impart. Unto theyr Liege and Soueraigne, with most contented hart. But to recount what passions past, betwixt the brothers twayne, would make an other history, and woorke my treble payne. wherfore let this suffise, my Lordes, not one but lyues in ioye, Not one there is amidst the prease, that cares doo now annoy. Amidst which myrth, to court again the King and all returne: And as they ryde, in signe of ioye, eche doth the streates adorne: with tynsell bright, with arras riche and glistring cloth of goulde: And ladies pearch on wyndowes hie the louers to behould. who passe the streates with happy harts, and so ariue on court, wher euery one seekes to augment, his late receiued sport. And wher, vpon a solome daye, appointed by the king, The Princesse and Ariodant, with sacred woords and King:

Recey••e the ryght of mariage, as gladde to them as lyfe: who long in blisse did spēd their daie•• and died deuoydt of stryfe.

FINIS.