The ancient, famous and honourable history of Amadis de Gaule Discoursing the aduentures, loues and fortunes of many princes, knights and ladies, as well of Great Brittaine, as of many other kingdomes beside, &c. Written in French by the Lord of Essars, Nicholas de Herberay, ordinarie commissarie of the Kings artillerie, and his lieutenant thereof, in the countrie and gouernment of Picardie, &c.

CHAP. IX. (Book 9)

How the Faire Forlorne being in the poore Rocke with the Hermit, there ar∣riued a ship, in the which was Corisanda, who sought for her friend Flo∣restan, and of that which happened vnto them.

ONe day the Faire For∣lorne being set hard by the Hermit, neere vnto the dore of their little house, the olde man said vnto him: I pray you my son, tel me the dream that you had, when you awaked on a suddaine sleeping hard by me neere vnto the Fountaine of the plaine field. True∣ly father answered he, I will wil∣lingly tell it you, and I most hum∣bly beseech you likewise to let mee vnderstand, be it for good, or bad, what you thinke thereof. After-wards hee recited the dreame in such sort as you haue heard, kee∣ping onely the names of the Gen∣tlewomen secret.

Then the Hermet remained a good while pensiue, when he be∣holding the Faire Forlorne, he be∣gan to smile, and said vnto him: My child, I assure you, that you haue now more cause to reioyce then euer you had: but yet I would haue you know how I vnderstand it. The darke chamber in the which you thought your selfe to be, out of which you were not able to com

forth, signifieth this great tribula∣tion wherein you now are. The Gentlewomen which afterwardes opened the doore vnto you, are some of your friends that continu∣ally solicit your cause vnto the La∣dy whom you so ••eruently loue, with whom they haue so much preuailed, that they shall withdraw you from this place. The Sunne∣beame which went before them, are Letters of reconciliation that she sendeth vnto you: by meanes whereof you shall leaue me. The fire that inuironed this lady, shew∣eth the great loue, together with the sad laments that she maketh for your absence, as well as you doe for hers. And by the faire garden whereunto you did beare her, drawing her forth of the flame, sig∣nifieth the great pleasure which you shall both haue at your mee∣ting. Truely my Son, I know that seeing the habit and estate where∣unto I am called, such speeches as these become me not at all: neuer∣thelesse knowing that it is for your good, I am sure that I doe not a∣misse in this counselling a person so comfortlesse as you are. Here-with all the Faire Forlorne fell vpon the ground to kisse his feete, reioy∣sing that he had happened into the company of a person so holy, that knew how to comfort him so well in his aduersity, desiring very hear∣tily, that whatsoeuer the holy man had told him, might so come to passe, and he said vnto the Hermit, my Father seeing it hath pleased you to do me so much good, as to expound this dreame, I pray you likewise to tell me the meaning of one other, which I dreamed the night before I came from the firm-Island.

Then did hee recite it word by word vnto him. Whereupon the aged man answered him. My son, by this you may plainely see that which already is happened vn∣to you, for I assure you that the place ouer shaddowed with trees, where you thought that you were, & the great nūber of people which at the first made such great ioy a∣bout you, signifieth the firm Island which you haue conquered, to the great pleasure of al the inhabitants thereof. But the man which came vnto you with a boxe full of bitter∣nes, is the messenger of the Lady that gaue you the letter: and your selfe doth know better then any o∣ther, whether he brought you bit∣ternesse or no, by the discourse which he had with you. The sorrow which afterwards you did behold in the persons which before were so ioyfull, are they of the Isle, who at this present are very heauy for your absence. The apparell which you threw off, are the teares which you haue shed. The stony place wherin you entred inuironed with water, this rock witnesseth to you what it is. The riligious mā that did speake vnto you in an vnknown lā∣guage, is my selfe, who do instruct you in holy writ, which you neither vnderstand, nor can comprehend. Father answered the Fair-Forlorn. I know verily that you say the truth which giueth me great hope of that which you haue declared of the o∣ther: but the continuall griefe and melancholie wherein I liue, hath already ouer-mastered mee, that I beleeue if the good which you promise vnto me do not the soon•••• ease my care, death will first seize vpon my sorrowfull corps.

Notwithstanding the Hermit knew how to perswade him so wel, that from thenceforth he shewed a little merrier countenance then before he had done, and began to

turne his sorrow to some solace, v∣sing to angle for fish with two Ne∣phwes of the olde man, that kept him company. Neuerthelesse, the most part of the time he with-drew himselfe into a secret place hard by the sea side, which was ouer-shadowed with diuerse sorts of trees: and there oftentimes he cast his sight vnto the Firme-Island, which put him in remembrance of those fauours whereunto for∣tune had called him, & the wrong that Oriana did vnto him, hee ha∣uing neuer offended. Alas, saide he, haue I deserued this entertain∣ment to be banished, without ha∣uing offended so much as in thought? Truely deere friend, if my death were agrieable vnto you, you haue meane enough to giue it me more speedily, without ma∣king mee thus to liue in langui∣shing. The onely deniall of your good grace, the very first day that you accepted me for your knight, had beene sufficient at that time to haue made me die a thousand deathes. Many other lamentations did the Faire Forlorne euery day make, in this solitary place, where∣in he tooke so great pleasure, that oftentimes hee there passed away both the day and the night: so as one time finding himselfe more frollick in his minde, then of a long time he had beene, hee made this song following.

Sith that the victory of right deseru'd, By wrong they do withhold for which I seru'd; Now ••ith my glory thus hath had a fall, Glorious it is, to end my life withall. By this my death likewise my woes release, My hope, my ioy, m'inflamed loue doth cease. But euer will I minde my during paine: For they to end my glory, and my gaine, My selfe haue murthered, and my glory slaine.

Thus the Faire Forlorne passed away the time, waiting vntill fate or better fortune should bring him forth of this miserie. But it happened that one night lying vn∣der the trees (as hee was accusto∣med) about the breake of day hee heard very nigh him the sound of a most sweete instrument, wherein he tooke so great pleasure, that he gaue attentiue eare thereunto a good while, amazed notwithstan∣ding from whence it might pro∣ceede. Knowing the place to bee solitary that no other there remai∣ned but the hermit, his two Ne∣phewes, and himselfe: wherefore he rose vp, without making any noyse at all, and approched more neere to see what it might be. Then he beheld two young Gentlewo∣men sitting by a fountaine, who (tu∣ning their voyses to the sound of a lute) did sing a most pleasant song: neuerthelesse fearing to trouble their mirth, hee stood still a great while without being by them per∣ceiued. Afterwards he came forth and disclosed himselfe, saying vnto them: Truely Gentlewomen your musicke hath made me this day to loose Matins, for the which I am very sorry. When these women heard him speake (hauing not seen him at all vntill that time) they were much afraide. Norwithstan∣ding, one of them more bold then her fellow, answered him: My friend, we did not thinke to offend you with this our mirth, but seeing we haue so luckily found you, tell vs (if it please you) who you are, and how this desert place is called. In truth faire Gentlewomen, saide the Faire Forlorne, this place is cal∣led the poore Rock: wherein there liueth an Hermit, vpon the top thereof in his little hermitage. As for me, I am a poore man that keep him company, doing great and hard penance for the sin and wic∣kednesse which I haue commit∣ted. Gentle friend, answered they,

may we finde in this place (for two or three dayes onely) any house wherein we may place at ease a La∣dy both rich & mighty, so tormen∣ted with loue, that she is euen at deaths dore therewith. Trust me said he, there is no other lodging in this Rock, but the little cabinet wherein the Hermit doth lie, and one other that I do sleepe in some-time: but if the Hermit will lend you mine, I am content (to do you a pleasure) to lie in the meane time abroad in the fields, as I common∣ly vse to do. The Gentlewoman gaue him hearty thankes, and bid∣ding him good morrow they de∣parted towards a Pauilion: within the which the Faire Forlorne beheld a most beautifull Lady vpon a bed. Wherupon he knew that the same was shee of whom they told him. But looking farder off, he did see foure armed men walking by the Sea side, who scouted abroad, whi∣lest fiue others did take their rest, and he also perceiued a shippe at Anchor well appointed. The Sun was already vp, when he heard the Hermitage bell to ring, which made him go vp thither. Where he found the Hermit making him rea∣dy to goe to seruice: vnto whom he tolde that there were people newly arriued in the Rock, and that if it were his pleasure, hee would willingly goe call them to heare Mattins. Goe then answered the Hermit, and I will stay for them. And as he went downe the Rocke, he met the Lady, whom the knights carried toward the hermitage: wherefore he returned, to helpe to make ready the Hermit, who see∣ing the Lady was come, began ser∣uice. Then the Faire Forlorne being amongst the women, began to re∣member the time when he was in the Court of king Lisuart, and of the pleasure hee was won to haue with the Princesse Oriana, & there-withall he began to weepe so bit∣terly, that the Gentlewomen per∣ceiued it, and did very much won∣der thereat. Notwithstanding they thought that it was for the contri∣tion of his sinnes, and seeing him young, fayre, and comely, they could not thinke what to presume thereof. When the Hermit had made an end of seruice, they came to salute him, praying him for Gods sake, to lend them some lit∣tle chamber for their Lady (who was wearie of the Sea, and ex∣treamely sicke) wherein she might take her rest, for a day or twaine. In truth faire Ladies, answered he, there are here no more then two small Cabinets, in one of them I remaine (and if I can so long as I liue, neuer woman shall come ther∣in) and the other is for this poore man, which doth such great pe∣nance, wherein sometimes he slee∣peth, and I would be very sory that he should bee put out thereof a∣gainst his will. Father said the Fare Forlorne, do not let for me to doe them a pleasure, for I am very well content for this time to haue no o∣ther lodging then vnder the Trees. Well said the hermit, let it be so a Gods name. Then the Faire For∣lorne conducted them vnto his Ca∣binet, where the Gentlewomen set vp a rich bed for their Mistresse, who was forthwith carried thither. And because it was told the Faire Forlorne that her sicknesse procee∣ded of extreame loue, he tooke more heede to her behauiour then to any of the rest: and he perceiued that her eyes were still full of Teares, and her ••ighs were at com∣mandement: Wherefore hee drew the two Gentlewomen a∣part, whom in the morning hee

had found playing on the Lute, & earnestly entreated them to tell the occasion of the great sicknesse that their Mistresse sustained. Friend an∣swered they, if you marke her well you shall find that she is very faire, although that now her disease hath abated a great part of her beauty: for shee hath neither comfort nor ioy by reason of the absence of a knight that shee goeth to seeke in the house of King Lisuart, whom she so feruently loueth, that if short time doe not graunt some ease to her passion, it is impossible that her life should continue long. When the Faire Forlorn heard king Lisuart named, hee could not re∣fraine from teares, and hee had a greater desire then before, to know the name of the knight that she lo∣ued: therefore he requested them very earnestly to tell him his name, in good sooth answered the Gen∣tlewoman, hardly may you knowe him: for hee is not of this coun∣trey: yet is hee esteemed the best knight in the world, next vnto two other of his kin. Alas my faire gen∣tlewoman sayd hee, for Gods sake name him vnto me, and the two o∣ther whom you so much ex••oll. Truely answered they, we are con∣tented, vpon this condition, that first when wee haue done, you doe tell vs whether you bee a knight or not, and afterward your name. I am content therewith, sayde the Faire Forlorne, so great is my de∣sire to knowe that which I demand of you. Then one of them sayd vnto him: the knight which this Lady loueth, is called Don Flore∣stan, brother to the good Knight Amadis of Gaule, and to Don Galaor, and hee is the sonne of King Perion of Gaule, and of the Countesse of Salandria. You say true answered hee, and I verily beleeue that you cannot say so much good of him as hee deserueth. What? sayde the Gentlewomen, doe you know him then? It is not long sayd he, since I did see him in the house of Queen Briolanie, for whom his brother A∣madis, and his Cosen Agraies did fight against Abise••s and his two sonnes, and thither hee with his brother Galaor arriued some fewe dayes after the combate: and I thinke him to be one of the fairest knights in the worlde. As cou••••r∣ning his prowesse, I haue many times heard Don Galaor himselfe speake thereof, who fought a com∣bate with him as hee sayde. This combate sayde shee, was the cause that hee left my Lady in the selfe same place, where they first knew one another. I thinke then answe∣red the Faire Forlorne, that shee is called Corisanda. You say true sayd the Gentlewomen. In truth answered he, I am no lesse sory for her sicknesse then before, for I knowe Florestan to bee so wise, and of so good behauiour, that I am sure hee will doe all that which she shall cōmand him. God grant it sayd shee, but seeing wee haue satisfied you, acquire you of your promise and tell vs who you are. Gentlewoman answered the Faire Forlorne, I am a knight who haue heretofore had more pleasure in the vanities of the worlde then now I haue, for the which I heere abide sharpe penance, my name is the Faire Forlorne. By my truth said one of them, you haue taken a good course, if you are able there∣in to continue. And because there is no reason now to leaue our Mi∣stresse all alone in this her great melancholy, wee bid you farewell, and doe goe vnto her to passe away the time with such musicke as you did heare this morning.

Then the Faire Forlorne depar∣ted, but hee was presently called backe againe, for as soone as the gentlewomen had played two or three songs, they rehearsed vn∣to Corisanda all that hee had saide of Florestan, and that the poore man which did penance, had seen him not many dayes before. Wherefore she sent to pray him to come vnto her, and in the meane while shee sayde vnto her women: assure you this Hermit that know∣eth Florestan, must needs be some great personage disguised. At the same instant the Faire Forlorne was come, and she sayd vnto him: my friend, my women tell me that you know Don Florestan, and that you doe very well loue him, I pray you (by the holy order that you pro∣fesse) to tell me what acquaintance you haue had with him, and where you did last see him. Then the Faire Forlorne told her more of him then hee had tolde vnto the Gentlewo∣men, and how hee knew very well, that he and his brethren, with their Cosen Agraies, had beene in the Firme-Island: for he had there left them, and neuer since had seene them. Ah sayd she, I beleeue that you are something a kinne vnto him, seeing the great good you re∣port of him. Madame, answe∣red the Faire Forlorne, I loue him intirely, as well for his valour, as also for that his father made me knight, which maketh me the more bounden vnto his children: and I am very sory for the newes that I haue hard of Amadis before I did come vnto this desert. What are they sayd Corisanda. Truely answe∣red hee, comming hither I met with a Gentlewoman at the entry of a Forrest which sung a pleasant song for the tune, but very pittifull by reason of the matter that it con∣tayned. Then I enquired of her who made it, and shee answered me, that it was a knight, vnto whō God (if it bee his pleasure) send more ioy then hee had when hee made it, for his song doth very wel witnesse, that his griefe proceeded from too extreame loue. And be∣cause I liked it wel, I remained with the Gentlewoman so long vntill I had learned it: moreouer she did assure me that Amadis did make it, and that he did shew her the song at that time when by his melan∣choly hee was most maistered. I pray you sayde Corisanda, teach it vnto these two Gentlewomen, for by that which you say, loue held him then in as great bondage as he now holdeth me. I will doe it an∣swered hee, both for the honour of him and also of you, althought it be a thing farre vnseemely for me to do. Herewithall he withdrew the Gentlewomen a part, and taught them the song with the tune there-of, wherein they tooke great plea∣sure, because the Faire Forlorne did sing it with a lamentable and soft voyce, which yeelded more har∣mony and aptnesse, both to the tune and the matter, then he could if hee had beene at more liberty in body and minde: and the Gentle-women learned it so cunningly, that many times after they did sing it before their Mistris, who tarried foure dayes in the poore Rocke, & the fift shee embarqued. But be∣fore she departed, shee demanded of the Faire forlorne, whether hee would remaine any long time in that place. Madame, answered he, nothing but my death shall drawe me from hence. I doe much mar∣uaile sayde Corisanda, what moo∣ueth you to doe so: yet seeing that you are in such a minde, I will in no sorte disswade yon from it:

so saying, she entred into her ship with her companie, bidding the Hermit farewel. Then setting saile, the winde was so fauourable, that in fewe dayes after they landed in Great Brittaine, and arriued in the Citie of London, where at that time King Lisuart remayned. Who knowing of her arriuall, hee toge∣ther with his Queene receiued her royally. The King to honour her the more, caused her to bee lodged in his owne Pallace. And some few dayes after, as they were dis∣coursing together, the Queen sayd vnto her, Good Cosen, the King charged mee to tell you, that hee taketh your comming hither to fee him so thankefully, that if you haue any thing to doe with him, he will imploy his best meanes to pleasure you. Madame, answered Corisan∣da, I giue the King most humble thankes, and your grace also: there is nothing that importuneth mee more, then the absence of Don Flo∣restan, whom I thought to haue found in this Court. Cosen sayde the Queene, wee haue at this time no other newes, of him, but that hee is gone in search of his brother Amadis, who of late is lost, we not knowing the cause thereof. Then shee tolde her how hee had wonne the Firme-Island, and that after-wardes hee departed secretly from his fellowes: especially the man∣ner how Don Guillan did finde his armour, and what diligence hee had vsed to vnderstand what was become of him. When Corisanda did see that shee was frustrate of her intention, and vnderstood the losse of Amadis, the teares stood in her eyes, saying: Alas what wil be∣come of my Lord and friend Flore∣stan, I am sure (considering the loue that he beareth vnto his bro∣ther) that if hee cannot finde him, he will lose himselfe, so that I shall neuer while I liue see him any more: the Queene comforted her so well, that shee receiued some hope to heare news from him very shortly. Now Oriana was by, who had heard all this talke, and the loue that Corisanda did beare vnto Don Florestan, brother to Amadis: for which cause shee had the more desire to doe her honour, so as she and Mabila did ordinarily keepe her company, taking great plea∣sure to heare her recite the loue that passed betwixt her and her friend, the cause of their parting, and the trauell which afterwardes shee had endured in hope to finde him. And as shee made this dis∣course, she remembred her of the time when shee remayned in the poore Rocke, where shee found a knight doing penance, who during her abode there, taught a song vn∣to her women: which Amadis had made being in great melancholy, as the companion of the Hermit had assured her. Madame answe∣red Mabila, I pray you seeing your Gentlewomen haue learned it, cō∣maund them to sing it before my Lady Oriana: for I shall bee very glad to heare it, seeing it is made by Amadis, who is mine owne Co∣sen. Beleeue mee sayd Corisanda, I am very well content, assuring you that it cānot better please you then it will delight me, because of the neernesse of the linage that is betwixt my Lord Florestan & him. Then shee sent for the Gentlewo∣mens Lutes, who played and did sing the song of Amadis so sweete∣ly, that it ministred both mirth & mone vnto the Ladies which vnto them listened: ioy to the eare, cō∣tent for the melody, and griefe to the minde, in feeling his passion, that was so grieuously pained. But

Oriana whom it most of all touch∣ed, tooke more heede vnto the matter then the musicke, knowing the mischiefe whereof she was cause, and the great reason that A∣madis had to complaine. Where-upon shee was suddenly stricken with so great sorrow, that she went into a wardroabe, ashamed for the teares that had issued from her eyes in so good a company, from which she could not abstain. Not∣withstanding as shee withdrew her selfe, Mabila (to couer this fault) sayd vnto Corisanda: So farre as I perceiue, Oriana is not well, where∣fore I am cōstrained to leaue your company at this time, and to goe helpe her: neuerthelesse, if it plea∣sed you, I would willingly knowe what was the behauior of him that taught your Gentlewomen the song, and wherefore he remayned in the poore Rocke: for no doubt hee did then knowe what was be∣come of Amadis. Then Corisanda rehearsed vnto her in what sorte they did finde him, and the talke he had with her: but sayd shee, I did neuer see a man more pensiue, nor more faire, considering the mise∣ries he endured. Mabila very sud∣denly began to suspect that it was Amadis himselfe, who being so far from all hope, had chosen such a solitary place, because hee would not be seene of any liuing wight, and at the same instant shee depar∣ted towardes Oriana, whom shee found weeping bitterly. Vnto whō (with a smiling countenance) shee sayd. Madame, in seeking after newes, sometimes one learneth more then hee thinketh vpon, wit∣nesse this which I haue vnderstood of Corisanda. The knight so sad, that is named the Faire Forlorne, in the poore Rocke, is Amadis and no other, who desirous to obey your commandement hath in such sort withdrawne himselfe, because hee would neither be seene of you, not of any other person: therefore I pray you reioyce, for you shall shortly drawe him hither againe. Alas answered Oriana, may it bee possible? I would I might bee so fortunate to imbrace him in my armes before I die, and beleeue me Cosen (sayd she to Mabila) that if I may once againe haue him, I will giue him such an occasion to par∣don me, that he shall forget all the wrong which I haue done vnto him. But then very suddenly like a person doubtfull and fearefull to lose that which she loued, shee be∣gan to make a greater lamentation then before, crying: Ah my Co∣sen, haue pittie vpon mee, I am in worse case then if I were dead, vn∣fortunate woman as I am: I haue iustly lost by my folly, him vpon whom my good, my ioy, and my life doth wholy depend. How now Madame, sayd Mabila, euen when most hope is presented vnto you, doe you then most torment your selfe? Assute you vpon my faith, if the Gentlewoman of Denmarke do not bring you newes of him, that I will finde the meanes to supply her want: being sure, that it is he which nameth himselfe the Faire Forlorne, and no other, and repose you vpon me herein.