The troublesome and hard adventures in love. Lively setting forth, the feavers, the dangers, and the jealousies of lovers; and the labyrinths and wildernesses of fears and hopes through which they dayly passe. Illustrated by many admirable patterns of heroical resolutions in some persons of chivalry and honour; and by the examples of incomparable perfections in some ladies. A work very delightfull and acceptable to all. Written in Spanish, by that excellent and famous gentleman, Michael Cervantes; and exactly translated into English, by R. C. Gent.

CHAP. XV. How Perierio, Ismenia, and Brisil, in their travell found Mar∣celio and Maffeo asleep, who departed with them towards the Temple of Diana.

PErierio with his company had not gone above the space of an hour or thereabout, they came in∣to a fair green, where they saw a shepheard and a Knight lying on the tender grasse a∣sléep both together. Ismenia and the Lady Bri∣sil marvelling at that sight, séeing two per∣sons of such different calling, so fellow likely sléeping one by the other wist not what it meant; for they saw neither flock of shéep by them, nor yet any other company. But Perierio told them that he knew both the shepheard and the Knight also; for he had both séen them at his fathers house, and heard them de∣clare their sorrows to his sisters. So while they lay and slept, Petierio declared unto Ismenia and the Lady, who they were, (for it was Marcelio, and Maffeo) and as briefly as he could re∣hearsed the sum of both their discourses which they made in his presence to his sister Euphilia, concerning the cause of their travell and trouble, when she so curteously with her sister Pe∣rino, entertained them at her fathers lodging. And when as he had told them as much as he knew of Marcelio and Maffeo, (which greatly delighted both Ismenia and the Lady Brisil, for they conceived infinite pleasure in hearing the strange histo∣ry of their lives) he awaked them, both desirous to know what successe they had in their travel, and how they had so happily hit of one anothers company. Maffeo not sléeping so soundly as Marcelio, awaked at the first call, and marvelling to see such beautiful shepheards about him, thought that it was some ominous token of good hap; and as he beheld them more

narrowly espying Perierio, he leaped up suddenly, and imbra∣ced him so curteously, yeelding him a thousand Bezolas manus and thanks for his gentle entertainment at his fathers coun∣try house, that not Perierio himself onely, but I••menia also, and the Lady Brisil could not but praise the Knight for his gratuity and thankfulnesse? and being asked of Perierio whe∣ther he had found his Eleonora, and where he had met with Marcelio, he answered, that after he parted from him and his sisters, he found Marcelio within two days after, exclaiming on fortune for her accursed inconstancy, & most bitterly lament∣ing the miserable estate he was in for his Alcida, who conti∣nually fl••d from him when she could hear of his arrival to the place where she was. Insomuch (quoth Maffeo) that when I heard Marcelio (whom I til that time never had seen) so pitti∣fully breath forth his plaints to the merciless skies, I thought my self favoured of the Gods, that I was not onely tormented with the sting of adversity, seeing there were more that be∣wailed their adventures then my self. And in truth I so pit∣tied Marcelio his case, that I asswaged mine own grief by com∣forting him; when I found him so desolate, and void of all consolation and hope. So that he glad of my company and I of his, after we had declared our troubles each to other, we purposed to travel together, and so have kept one the other company these five days. In which time we have coursed over most part of all the villages aout the river Ezla, where old Camillo your father dwelleth. And as we were one evening something late in a pleasant grove, some 40 leagues from this place, we (overcome by the wearisomnesse of our journey, and heavinesse of our sorrows) fel asléep. Where being awaked by three most beautifull nymphs, of them received a letter sub∣scribed unto us both: whereof we greatly marvelled, séeing that no man in the world knew of our amity and friendship, which was out of two or three days continuance. Neverthe∣lesse we hoped more then we feared. For we thought that such divine things could not happen but for our better luck & content. Wherefore unknitting the letter we read it, & found these to be the contents,

Felicia servant to the Goddesse Diana, to the valourous Knights Marcelio and Maffeo.

MArvell not (most worthy Knights) that my Nymphs amidst the solitary groves, bring you a message from me: being un∣known unto you. For seeing that I take pleasure in nothing so much as in succouring those that profess chastity and true love, when as by the uncrtain doom of the unchangeable. Goddess Fortune, they be led into the irksome path of adversity, and pestred with sorrows for the unhappy and overthwart successe of their honest and wor∣thy desires; when I was informed at the altar of Diana, of your de∣serts, and understood how worthily you have merited not onely to enjoy your wished love, but also to be crowned with a glorious lawrel in token of your loyalty, how could I do less then send my Nymphs unto you, straying as forlorn, and to set you in the path that shall bring you to the accomplishment of all your heroical de∣sires; take the way that my messengers appoint you, and you shall have occasion to hope Marcelio for his Alcida, and Maffeo for his faithfull Eleonora.

Farewell.

When we had read this letter, not knowing whether we dreamed or were deceived with some phantasie or vain vision, we looked on the Nymphs, gazing on their beauty; but knew not what answer to make. But they so graciously spake unto us with such a setled and grave countenance, beautified with pleasantnesse and curtesie, saying. Be not abashed at our pre∣sence worthy Knights; for we are sent hither not to harm you, but help you, to give you comfort, and incourage your minds now distressed. Marcelio taking heart gave them this answer, Worthy Nymphs sith we bee not able to make you any part of amends for this your high desert, I beseech the sa∣cred powers of heaven to recompence your favour toward us. In the mean time if occasion were offered that our service might requite your courtesie, till death we acknowledge our selves bound both unto you and the soveraign Lady Felicia,

who hath sent you hither to direct our straying paces, and ad∣dresse us in some stayed path, by following of which we may obtain the end of our haplesse journey.

Curteous knight (replied one of the Nymphs) recompence we neither deserve nor desire, our message we bring and thus deliver it. Séeing you have read the Letter, it may please you to stay here till you sée us no longer but so, that you mark well what way we take, and then follow us at your pleasure, and you shall not misse of the way which our Lady doth write of. And therewith the Nymphs most courteously taking their leaves departed from us, though we were sorry to sée them goe, and leave us behinde them. Yet we encouraged by their words, followed, being led by the guide of hope, not so much knowing whether we goe right, as hoping that wée are in in the way which the Lady promised that wée should take.

Thus (Perierio,) you have heard what successe we have had since I was with you.

When Perierio, Ismenia, and the Lady Brisil, had heard the words of Maffeo, marvelled at the strangenesse thereof, and told him, that unlesse they were deceived, they were in their direct way to the Temple of Diana, whither they also travel∣led to the same Felicia, to crave her ayde and counsaile for the abridgement of their sorrowes. Maffeo passing glad of that, waked Marcelio, who in like manner as his fellow had done, knew and saluted Perierio. And after they had very courte∣ously greeted one another, and each discharged him of his du∣ty according to the rules of civility, they marchd on pursuing their journey. And for as much as Ismenia and the Lady Bri∣sil had partly by Maffeo, while Marcelio in his shepheads wéed yet sleeped, béene enformed of their Fortunes, they re∣quested Perierio, Ismenia, and the Lady Brisil, each of them to tell the cause of their travell. Which to beguile the wea∣risome journey, and to pleasure the Knights, they did all thrée performe.

When they had ended each his discourse, they came néere

to a most pleasant Grove, beautified with sundry ranks of tall trées, which yielded such a pleasant shadow, that they could not pass by that place without entring into it, and en∣joying such pleasure as the amerity thereof did offer them. This Grove was so perfectly made by Natures skill, and hedged with such pleasant bushes, that the manner thereof farre exceeded the artificial Gardening invented by the sub∣tilty of mortal men.

As these Lovers walked up and down the Grove, when they came neer the hedge, they sate downe, and listning, they heard certain shepheards singing to the sound of their Oaten Pipes. Which shepheards belonged to the Lady Felicia, and were called Custophilus and Eromaus, Their singing tended to this sense.

Custophilus.

APollo seated on his golden Steed, No sooner gins to climbe the mounting skie, But Coridon, his tender Lambes to feed, To pleasant field with them doth carefull hie. He lets them nibble on the savoury grasse, And wilie sounds his Pipe to praise his Lasse.

Eromaus.

NO sooner Phillis, shaking off her sleep, Doth spie the glory of Aurora's face; But to their wonted pastures drives her Sheep, And treads the green-grasse with a nipping pace. She heares her Coridon doth sound her name, She steppeth neer, of him to do the same.

Custophilus.

FAire is my Love (quoth Coridon the Swaine) For in her face sits Venus Queen of Love; Who liketh Phillis, liketh not in vaine, For how could Nature frame a braver Dove? Ye Heavens the wrathful Gods to anger move, If Coridon to her unfaithful prove.

Eromaus,

FAire is my Friend (quoth Phillis in reply) For in his forehead Cupid takes his place; And prints his Trophies in his lovely eye, Wherein should I then but Coridon imbrace? Revenging Nemesis, with shame repay My fault, if ever my true love decay.

Custophilus.

HEr lips (saith Coridon) are like the hue That Cherries bear by natures secret skill: Her breath as doth the Violet so blew, The glowing air with fragrant scent doth fill. And therefore Coridon accursed be, When from his sweet saint Phillis he doth glie.

Eromans.

IN beauty like Alexis he is fam'd, (Quoth Phillis) like to Paris for his pace: When he in Ida beauties judge was nam'd, And for the fairest deemed Venus face. But did not he poor Oenone forsake, That fault my Coridon will never make.

Custophilus.

TH' Antarctick pole join to the Arctick may, (Quoth Coridon) and stars fall out the skie: Yea and the silent dame of night by day, May run her race, and take her course awry. But never shall that haplesse day be seen, Wherein shall Coridon forsake his Queen.

Eromaus.

THe flames of Aetna flashing on the main, (Quoth Phillis) may in tract of time be turned; In powring showers of never ceasing rain, And th' Ocean into ashes may be burned. But never shall the lucklesse hour come, That Phillis shall disdain her Coridon.

Custophilus.

EArst cold December, down shall way the trees, With summers fruit, and cloath the earth with flowers: Earst July shall let running rivers freez, And deck with snow the tops of climing towers. Yea death shall close my life with dreadfull doom, To Phillis ere disloyal I become.

Eromatus.

THe Husbandman with Plough shall eare the skie, And Fishers wrap the Seas in snaring net: The Birds shall swim, and watery fishes flie, Ere Phillis shall her Coridon forget. And when the fatall Dames have stopt my breath, My shadow shall him follow after death.

Custophilus.

THus Coridon and Phillis past the time, With vowing each to other loyalty: He could not blow his Pipe, or rowle in Rime, But she for verse her cunning needs must try. And if he ceas'd to sing, and gan to speak, Most wittily she wistt her mind to break.

Eromaus.

BY this Apollo doth decline and fall, He lights from off his steed to take his rest: And from the Fields these Lovers gins to call, Who ere they part, a kiss or twain must wrest. Therewith content, till morning leave they take, And with their sheep, each haste doth homeward make.