CHAP. I. How Richard Cordelion King of England, going to the holy Land, slew Phillip the Prince of Austria, and how Don Iohn doomed him to a most strange punishment, and of his wo­full lamentation in prison.

WHen the true spirits of illustrious atchieue­ments, possest the Nobility of Europe, and that the Babes of honour, fed vpon the milke of Knightly aduentures, here raigned in Eng­land, a royall minded King, named Richard Cordelion, a Prince replenished with the commendable re­ports of renowne, in whose gouernement, both Armes and Art flourished, warres wrought peace, and peace brought happinesse. In this Kings time, the blessed state of Gods holy City of Ierusalem, groaned vnder the heauy yoke of Paganisme, and the despised Infidels with pride and tyran­ny suppressed all her royalties, for recouery whereof, all Christendome tooke Armes, and the rumors of warre wrath­fully thundered in all our Northerne Nations.

Fiue Christian Kings, (vnder the bloody standers of Godfrey of Bullin,) (that imperious Monarks, and wor­thy of the World) marched. Amongst which glorious num­ber, one matchles King, Richard Plantaginet, was too aduen­turous forward, for he in the blooming bud of his youth, with the chiefest Chiualry of England, cloathed in stéele, fired with [Page 2] fame and full of resolution, left the gouernment of his king­dome to his brother Iohn, then Duke of Ireland, and arri­ued in Austria, the méeting place of these Christian Poten­tates.

The rest of this Campe royall, not then in a readinesse, ac­cording to the customes of Princes, caused King Richard to request entertainement for him and his Knights. Don Iohn then Duke of Austria, being a Prince so curteous and no­ble, that he could doe no lesse then grant it. Now Fame and Fortune in King Richards thoughts smiled, and the smooth brow of wished good spéed, bad him and his hundred Knights welcome.

A hundred he had as then for his guard, called Knights of the Bath, a title of dignity first giuen by this King: but now while the rest of his Army planted their standers vpon the downes adioining to the Court, these Knightly Gallants so reuelled in the Dukes Pallace, that well were they that could purchase their fauours, and highly graced were all such as had but the smallest imployment of an English Knight.

So amiable, pleasing, and curteous, were the conditions of King Richard and his followers, so truely were their minds deuoted to honour, that they euen inforced loue from all estates, the haughty minded of their own accords became gentle, the stubborne nature pliable, and the frowne of eue­ry English brow by desert challenged both cap and knée, Don Iohn himselfe began to grow disgracious, his Subiects wa­uering, alegiance waxed cold, and none but the name of Eng­lish Richard merited Fortunes high graces: All Austria estée­med England a happy Nation, by nature the darling of ver­tue, and the only hopes of Christendome, so grealy are still the fauors of our English people in the eies of forren kingdoms.

This detracted loue of his subiects did not a little displease Don Iohn, and his son Prince Phillip, and no little enuy by it were bred in their two fired breasts, that nothing could quench the increasing flame therof, but King Richards shame and confusion. Politicke and close were their purposes, [Page 3] deadly and diuellish their intents, and most vnhumane and vnchristian like their procéedings, the law of Armes was quite laid aside, the honor of Princes forgotten, and the dig­nity of Knight hood vilely abused, malice, and wrath, the champions of pale death hourely possessed their two hearts, with a secret imagination of vengeance, plotted against the life of royall Richard, to murther by violence, would but in­curre displeasures of forren Nations, to kill innocents offen­deth Heauen, and to betray Princes, hath rewards in hell, a thousand thousands of displeasing motions, disquieted their discontented mindes, dishonoured as they thought by the vertues of King Richard, disgrace boyling in her grea­test heart, could no longer be suppressed, but néeds the flames of fury must breake forth, and a flattering practise of reuenge­ment mollifie their intollerable torments, and in this man­ner was it accomplished.

Prince Phillip the onely sonne and heire apparant to Don Iohn, the pride and hopes of Austria, in whose life and good Fortune consisteth his countries honor, like a desperate and prodigall gallant, in a dissembling shape of friendship, challen­ged King Richard at a Princely turnament, and in the knightly games of tilting, personally to combat hand to hand, the English King in the Aprill of his man-hood, no­thing inferior in prowesse to Prince Phillip, hauing the sparkes of Maiesty glowing in his bosome, in a most prince­ly manner accepted his challenge, and against the day ap­pointed, prouided al things fitting for so noble an enterprise.

Time with his lazy wings, séemed to fly too slowly, and to crosse the forward attempts of these youthfull combitants, each minute séemed an houre, each houre a day, and each day a moneth, till the appointed time came of this royall turna­ment, so bold, forward, and illustrious were these martialists, the one striuing for honor, the other for reuenge.

I néed not here speake of the sumptuous preparations, the excéeding charge, and costly habilliments prouided against that day, numberlesse were the eye-witnesses of this Court-like [Page 4] pastime, ready prepared to bid them welcome with a gracious applause. To come to the fulnesse of this glory, the day approched, the morning Sunne chéerefully rose with a bright smile, the christall Skie put on her fairest robe, and the moderate aire séemed to further their procéedings, all things by nature were as furtherers to summon them to Armes, Don Iohn himselfe attended by his greatest Nobility, sate as Vmpiers in the case, and each Lady with a prepared eye, was ready to censure of their deserts, the tilting place being rayled in quadrangle-wise, round about beset with lofty gal­leries, whereon people in degrees were placed in such multi­tudes, as memory it selfe could hardly number: the Sunne beames had not more motes by imagination, then this thea­ter spectators, equally wishing good fortune to them both, bright honors sceane being ready to begin, the Drums and Trumpets gaue warning of the two combitants approch, in such a melodious manner, as both aire and earth resounded, the first that entered the listes, was Prince Phillip in a black caparison, his horse betrapt with sable, his beuer close, made of the fashion of a flying Griffon, his Launce and Scutchion borne before him by a naked Indian, all agréeable to his blacke desires: for the stéeled point of his Launce, and the kéen edge of his sword, were both impoisoned; his motto was, True honour hath no equall.

Immediately after entered Richard of England, mounted vpon a Spanish Gennet, as milke white and spotles as were his thoughts, his Armor bright and glistering, his Helmet of the fashion of a sunne sparkeling fire, expressing both malice and mercy. Vpon his breast he had the honorable red crosse of England, platted with Arabian silke, his Motto was; Ho­nour tainted, in vaine repented.

Thus all things in readines for this royall turnament, the chéerefull reports of relentlesse Drums and Trumpets, thundred a charge, whereupon the two couragious Princes, fired with resolution, so fiercely assailed each other, that a strange admiration of their man-hoods possessed all the be­holders. [Page 5] The old Duke Don Iohn himselfe, sitting with a longing desire of his sonnes victory, was immediatly dis­contented wich the spight of Fortune, for after he had woun­ded the English Prince with his impoisoned weapons, to the great danger of life, couragious Richard expressing his Lion-like nature, closed Prince Phillip with such a manly power, that with his heauy courtelax, at one blow he broke his necke: Folly it were to resist destiny, for euen at that in­stant he yéelded vp the ghost, and in the sight of his old fa­ther imbraced death.

This sudden accident aduanced not so much the honours of King Richard, as it setled fury in Don Iohns heart, for ha­uing lost the hopes of his Kingdome, his onely sonne and glory of his age, like a man desperate of all good fortune, ioy, and consolation, he raged both against heauen and earth, blaspheming his Creator, swearing both by God and the world, that the treasures of Europe should not redeeme King Richards life, nor the vnknowne treasures of the déepe Ocean (were they laid at his féet) preserue him from a disho­nourable death: for (quoth he) in loosing my Sonne, the sight of the World displeaseth me, I will pine in griefe, I will fa­mish with woe, I will liue foodlesse, féeding vpon nothing, but desires of vengeance. Assist me thou spirit of destruction, that in wrath I may confound the murtherer of my sonne, in whose life I more delighted, then in my royall crown: for in wanting him, I liue as a forlorne, wofull, and deposed King, exild and banisht from this worlds royalty: my second soule adores the smallest drop of thy déere harts blood, shal be quit­tanced with the purple goa [...]e of King Richards bosome. Ha­uing spoken these, or such like wordes, he commanded the Marshall of Austria, to take the English Prince vnto his charge, and to kéepe him close prisoner in a square Tower of Marble stone, adioining to the vttermost part of his Court, and likewise to discharge all the followers of his Countrey, vpon paine of death not any one of them to bée séen in his territories after the date of seuen daies. All which [Page 6] according to the angry Dukes command, was by the Mar­shall spéedily accomplished, the wofull King he to prison, and his sorrowfull followers to their natiue countrey, where his loyall Subiects made not a little moane for his hard misfor­tunes; Don Iohn with his Nobility mourned as grieuously for Prince Phillip, whom in most solemne manner they en­terred in a Princely Tombe, where we will leaue him slee­ping in peace, and perseuere in this our wofull History.

King Richard hauing now neither Crowne, Kingdome, nor liberty, but (by his late receiued wounds, from Prince Phillips poisoned weapons,) lay bléeding in prison, to his liues greatest danger, and being destitute of friends, and all hopes of recouery, he dolefully breathed out this lamenta­tion.

Oh vniust Fortune (said hee) why in the prime of youth hast thou thus deceiued me, and by thy flattering promises of aduancement thus betraied my Knightly aduentures? Those blessed warres, where the standard of Christ by their incouraging flourishes, makes cowards inconquerable, must by mee bee forsaken, and my vnhappy daies by Don Iohns vnprincely doome, haue ending, sweat with teares.

Oh you ingrateful wals, that with your pittilesse bounds claspes in a royall Prince; mercilesse woe like a cruell ty­rant féedes vpon my heart, and the sunne shine of delightfull consolation is now for euer dimmed with the blacke cloudes of despaire, banisht be all hopes of liberty, and the freedome that attends on Kings, is curbed with the base pennance of captiuity: Farre more fortunate is the humble estate of the Plow-mans life, he suffers onely the crosse of priuate disgra­ces, when principalities indure the generall scandall of dis­honour, wherein Kingdomes, and the glory of Diadems, lose their illustrious dignities. Where are now all my courtly traines of starre-bright Nobility, my attendant followers, my gardiants, and humble seruitors, my pompous state, roi­all banquetings, and delightful musicke, all so my soules eter­nall griefe, now vanished, and conuerted into continuall la­mentations: [Page 7] no fellowship haue I to comfort me, but discon­tent, sighes, and melancholy dispaire: Care is my food, and teares my drinke, nothing but the imaginations of woe, in­tercepts all hopes of fréedome.

Oh vnhappy England, thou nurse and mother of my life, dishonoured in thy Kings disgraces, and made most misera­ble by this iniurious and most vnprincely dealings, Heauen I hope with blacke vengeance, deadlier then the feare of hell, will in time spie out a most dreadfull quittance, written in the bloody brow of a cursed Austria, stained with inhumane murther of a King, whose death the child as yet vnborne shall rew, and after ages shall speake off: pitty my distresses thou reuenger of mankind, that my soule may sléepe in peace, and rest in that blessed mansion prepared for Monarches.

These or such like heart-breaking complaints being brea­thed from his grieued bosome, the paine of his impoisoned wounds so inraged, and so furiously tormented his body yet bléeding that (poore King,) he fell into a swound, liuelesse, and breathles, sauing a little panting breath moued in his breast, a signe that the sparkes of life were not quite extinguished. But now, euer as this sudden trance assailed King Richard, there entered into the prison the Lord Marshall, vnder whose charge he was then kept, where when to his great amasement he beheld as he supposed, the King bereft of life, hauing a mind framed of a noble disposition, began to pitty his mis­fortunes, and to accuse his Lord and Master of iniustice, whereupon according to his gentle nature, hee dressed his wounds with a precious kind of balme, by nature so excel­lent, that it not onely recouered life, but also health, and in lesse then in three daies, made him as sound as he was before his combat with Prince Phillip, where we shall leaue King Richard, making his praiers to heauen for his deliuery from death, and speake of other accidents that followed hereafter.

CHAP. II. How the two English Earles of Arundell and Oxford, disgui­sedly comforted King Richard in prison, of the loue be­twixt him, and Clarabella the Dukes daughter; how he how hee pulled out the Lyons heart, and thereby came to bee called Richard Cordelion, and of other acci­dents.

ACcording to the heauy and bitter command of the angry Duke, (in reuenge of his sonnes death,) the Nobility and Knights of England departed Don Iohns Kingdome, leauing the wofull King in prison, as ashamed of so hap­lesse a voiage, where being no sooner come, and the reports thereof bruted in the eares of the Earles of A­rundell and Oxford, but like two English spirited gallants, not able to brooke this forraine disgrace, they resolutely de­parted England, protesting either to bring their Soueraigne Lord safely to his Kingdome, or to leaue their bodies buried in Austria: that blood (quoth they) spent in the honour of our King and Countrey, is the sweet sacrifice of Knight-hood, and the true vermillion colour, that beautifies the rich robes of honour.

Thus nobly minded, they with all speed crossed the Seas, which they were ioyfull off; so with so glorious a burthen, and the whisling wind, proud of these Princely resolued Gentle­men, louing kind, and loyall, set open their gentle portals, and beyond the expectation of man, set them safely vpon the costs of Austria, where being no sooner come, but they attired them­selues in the disguised habits of Fryers, the most secret, and fittest pollicy to attaine the wished presence of their impriso­ned [Page 9] King, and by that meanes thought they to relieue him, if his extremity so much required; so comming to the prison gate in a professed zeale, as they said they had of King Richards soules health: they desired accesse, and that the Lord Marshall would admit them to the Kings presence, who being a man of a curteous nature, could doe no lesse then grant their re­quest, being so honest and vertuous a demand.

Frowning Fortune beganne now a little to smile, and a little to ease his languishing sorrowes: for no sooner had his gentle eies cast their dimme sights (almost blinded with teares) vpon his two deare friends, but a sudden reioycing hope assailed his heart, and like a royotous heire newly posses­sing his patrimony, surfetted in pleasure, all dispairing passi­ons by the delightfull presence of these two English Earles, were immediatly conuerted into iollity, their imbraces were as the closes of new married Damsels, where the extremity of ioy so swelled in their bosomes, that euen their eyes distil­led teares, (and their hearts as it were danced.) These two supposed Friers had no other Orisons, but comfortable re­ports from his loyall Subiects in England: their Bookes were their loues, and their Beades their fealties.

Thus in this secret manner vnsuspected of any, repaired they daily to this distressed King, expecting hourely his liues metamorphoses, either of liberty or death: Freedome, or con­fusion, royalty, or captiuity: in which wauering doubt, while these three subiects of sorrow remained, the displeased Duke (still harbouring in his heart blacke malice, called a counsell of flattering sicophants, such as be still the attendants of Mo­narkes, where against both the law of Armes and Nations, it was decreed that King Richard should combate with a Ly­on, which if he ouercame, his liberty thereby might be purcha­sed; but being ouercome, he should endure the sharpe punish­ment of this mercilesse beast, whose greatest fauour were but death: vpon which pittilesse doome, this bloody coun­se [...]l concluded, and thereupon appointed the time and houre, to the extreame griefe of many thousadns, whose [Page 10] whose gentle harts euen trembled at this remorslesse iudge­ment. But now marke the difference in nature of a cruel Fa­ther, and a kind Child; the Father mercilesse, the Child mild, the Father proud, the Child humble, the Father vnreasona­ble, the Child reasonable, the Father cruell, the Child louing, betwixt whom tyranny and remorse strous for superiority: for Don Iohn bore not more extreame hate against the Eng­lish King, then his daughter faire Clarabella extended loue: In her heart partiall Cupid builded his Bower, and pitty with his smooth countenance, sent dumbe messengers to the distressed King, which were modest sighes, bashfully sent from her maiden-like breast, fearing to offend in affecting her Fathers enemy: yet loue, which hath commanded euen the Gods themselues, and still blindly leades earthly Monarkes with vnequall affections, making no difference betwixt Kings and Beggars, so ruled the desires of diuine Clarabell, that shée wished no other consolation in this world, but the sacred loue of English Richard; whose presence (if shée might possesse) were to her soule as the pleasures of Paradice: duty and obedience (by nature her Fathers right) were now ex­changed into desire and loue; the Princely behauiour of King Richard guided her thoughts, and (though as yet vnknowne to him) intangled her loue-sicke heart in the toiles of Venus, wherein was no hope of recouery, but the vniting of them both in the equality of desire. These were faire Clarabels dis­contents, which as an vncurable wound, dismembred all the liuely wishes of virginity, offending onely in thought, and with the chilling feare of her second solues destruction, by the terrible censure of her angry Father, shée grew like madde Medea, lunaticke and distraught, expecting the sauage mur­ther of royall Richard, shée railed both at Heauen and Earth, conspiring thus against all her good Fortunes: For in loo­sing him (quoth shée) the bloome of my maiden-head withe­reth, and I am like to pine in the languishing estate of mise­ry: made onely miserable by the Eagle like pitch of my lofty desires. In this manner spent shée away the day, till [Page 11] the sable Canopy of Heauen couered all the earth, a time of silence, a time of peace and rest, a time that the eyes of all things closeth vp: yet sléepe (the comforter of distressed minds, could not locke vp her eyes, for care had made them watchfull, griefe and distrust like two dreadful companions waited in her chamber, euery idle imagination buzzed in her cares, the misaduenture of her loue, fighting with all the misdoubts of desire, shée consumed away the slow night, where euery minute séemed a day till morning came, and then like a carefull bride, shée cloathed her selfe in her richest attire, and by the Sunnes rising came vnto the prison, where shée found royall Richard vpon his Princely knée, pleading for his soules saluation, preparing himselfe ready for his Li­on-like combat, the night before brought to the Lord Mar­shall in a warrant from the Dukes counsel. Farewell vaine world (quoth he) thy flattering pompe hath béene to me, as water bubbles in a rainie day, or as Aprill showers, or the flourishes of Gardens, sudden and variable. Comfort me God, only in thy power is my deliuery, and without thy assi­stance, this day is like to be my doomes day, and the last day of all my liues fortunes. At these words faire Clarabel sunke into a swound, and so abounded in griefe, that her sences were hardly recouered, but being againe come to her selfe, shée fell at King Richards knée, and in a most milde nature, spake as followeth.

Most imperious Potentate, in whose happines consisteth my liues ioy, and in whose welfare my glory shineth: In thée thou pride of manhood, haue I built my hopes, and in louing thée, doo I purchase my fathers frowne, the Diademe of Au­stria. Now my right and patrimony doe I vtterly forsake, changing all my natiue honours into forraine hopes, and for thy sake make my selfe a stranger to my countrey; euen in death springs my loue, and being dead, all earthly loues in me ends: Cast me not off in disgrace, but locke my true heart in thy Princely bosome, there kéepe it as an inestima­ble Iewell, pure, vnspotted, and vnstained, and tender as the budding Rose, blasted with the least winde of thy [Page 12] dislike: As for thy liues danger (swéet Prince) feare not, hea­uen I sée with a smiling countenance, promiseth comfort, and legions of Celestiall Angels stand ready armed to de­fend thée from that hunger-starued Lyon, prepared for thy liues destruction, a death dishonourable, and vnfit for so roy­all a person.

In speaking these words, shée tooke a gréene scarfe from about her iuory necke, and gaue it to King Richard, saying; Take this (swéet Prince) as the maiden-like promise of my lo [...]e and remembrance, weare it for my sake, it may proue thy liues preseruer, and the onely instrument to glut vp the Lyons gréedy Iaw, euen at that deadly minute, when he seaseth vpon thy noble body. Pardon my immodest pre­sumption, for desire and loue imboldens me, and all my maiden like bashfulnesse is abolished, by the delightfull pre­sence of thy swéet selfe: For thée, and for thy loue, haue I sold all my royall promotions; Then equall it (great King) that my affection bee not blasted in the bloome, and I made the most wofull and dispised Lady aliue.

More would shée haue spoken, but that the gentle King tooke her from the ground, (yet knéeling) and with the de­lightfull ioy of a curteous kisse, sealed their lippes together, and after gratified her kindenesse with this louing discourse.

Thou faire of all faires, thou paragon of beauty, in whose countenance (I sée) sits inthronised both vertue and modesty, what vndeserued fauour hath true iudging Heauen graced me with, in that thy inspiring loue hath eluminated my clou­dy Fortunes, now scowling with a dismall countenance? Were the whole world mine, and I commander of Monar­chies, yet should all my dignities inrich thee, and my pow­erfull regalties aduance thee to the imperiall estate of all earthly graces: This thy kindnesse hath inchanted me, ra­uisht my sences, eleuated my soule, and of an earthly sub­stance, made my desires immortall. Now flie I with the wings of good chance, which nothing can clip, but the sharpe sickle of despitefull death: For death (I know) with his gasily [Page 13] visage, walkes here inuisibly, with his tirannous command, ready to seaze vpon me: now is the houre of my liues aduen­ture, and the minute of that fearefull iudgement to be put in practise, to the appeasing of Prince Phillips angry ghost.

At this word speaking, came in the Lord Marshall with an armed guard, hauing a commission to conduct King Ri­chard, to a square Court walled round: wherein was a Shée-Lionesse newly bereaued of her Whelps, to make her the more mankind: about which Court sat the Duke and his Barrons in a gallery, to behold this vnnaturall tradegy: vn­to which place being come, attended on a farre off, by the Princesse Clarabell, who with teares and sighes did not a lit­tle solicet heauen for his strengthner: all which forced pitty from the hearts of his enemies, and might haue mollified euen Tygers to relent.

The two English Earles of Arundell and Oxford, his ap­proued friends in misery: High spirited, and full of resoluti­on, attended as before in their Friers habits, feeding him (as the beholders supposed) with the food of diuine counsels: but indéed with the animation of courage imbouldening him to take his fortunes patiently, and to thinke of the honour of his Countrey, by whose death England was widdowed, and his subiects made Kinglesse.

These motions of incouragement, bred in his manly heart an inconquerable strength, committing his life to the dispo­sing of fate: He stripped himselfe from all Court-like ha­biliments, and in his cambricke shirt, with faire Clarabels scarfe wrapped about his arme, he stood prepared for the en­tertainement of the remorslesse Lyon, which at the sound of a Trumpet was let loose, whose roares were as thunder from the clouds, and in whose grim visage sat the fearefull president of destruction; heart-breaking afflictions possest all his well willers, and the quiuering feare of his confusion as­sailed euery gentle eye, excepting Don Iohn and his associats. To bee short, the Lyon like the galfe of burning Acharon▪ [Page 14] gaped to receiue the royal body of King Richard, who neither fearing death, nor the threatnings of tyranny, with an vn­knowne courage, he most valiantly thrust his arme (wrap­ped about with faire Clarabels silke scarfe) into the gaping iawes of the ouer-furious Lyonesse, and by the force of his manhood to are out his sauage heart, (yet leaping warme in his hand) and threw it at Don Iohns face, saying; Take that thou monster of humanity, thou vnprincely Potentate, hea­uen thou séest hath defended me, to the wonder of ages, and thy vile disgraces. Generall was the applause, the intollera­ble vexation of the wrathfull Duke, who like an vntamed Panthar, rose from his seat, and in great wrath departed. King Richard séeing the Lionesse heartlesse and liuelesse, ly­ing on the ground, to the great amasement of all the behol­ders, yéelded the glory of this victory to the all-seeing prai­ses of Heauen. No little ioy had the two English Earles at this lucky successe [...], but espe [...]ially the heart of diuine Clara­bell danced in delights.

Neuer had Lady the like cause of content, nor neuer La­dy more bound to thanke the Almighty powers of heauen. The relieued King, as the ignorant Lambe newly escaped from the bloody fury of the Wolie, with a countenance of a crimson blush, declared the like gladnesse, and in most kinde manner cast the reflecting beames of his eyes toward Clara­bell, that shee well perceiued his curteous thoughts, and that gratefull thankes harboured in his Princely heart After the Dukes departure, the whole company soone broke off, bearing a secret fauour to the English King, who by faire Clarabell, the Earles of Arundell and Oxford, with some few other attendants of England, conducted him to a pri­uate chamber, where after some refreshing repast, they pre­pared for England, but not meaning discourteously to leaue faire Clarabell behind, caused her to be attired in the habit of a Court Page, in a sute of watched coloured veluet, to signifie the trunesse of her loue, (for his sake) in refusing both Coun­trey, Parents, and Kindred, and in this sort to become [Page 15] estranged from al her acquaintance. Such an imperious God is loue, and so commanding.

The next day, vnknowne of any of the Dukes Court, but the Lord Marshall, who assisted them in all their procée­dings, they tooke leaue of Austria, and iournied toward England, where by the way King Richard and faire Clara­bell, so secretly closed in affections, that her blooming bud of virginity was cropt, and the quittance of his loue-stroake sealed in her wombe, a condition of such content, as both pleasure and desires pleased each party. Clarabell in her Pa­ges attire, séemed in decentnesse to excéed Ganemede, Ioues minion, or wanton Adonius the delights of Venus. Neuer had Paris the Troyan Prince, a greater conquest in the loue of faire Helena, then royall King Richard, of his admired Clarabell. Nature in her greatest pride, framed this beauti­full Lady, as then the onely miracle of woman kind, he mu­ses in her praises may write eternally. and those lasting re­ports which aduanced so many Grecian dames, may now tell, and foreuer speake off the super-abounding graces of this faire Lady, that like vnto that Angell-faced Rosamond, wrought wonders in all eyes.

No other comforts could possesse the Kings fancy, but this celestiall Lady, Europes admiration, and the worlds glory. In this rau [...]shing content spent they the time away, till happy Fortune se [...] them safely vpon the shores of Eng­land, whose swéet sight was as ioyf [...]ll to them all, as the re­turne of banisht exiles to their w [...]shed dwellings. This ioyfull day of their arriuall in England, was by the King and his Counsell canonized for a holy day, being the third of March, and to thi [...] time called Saint Richard [...] our Eng­lish Almanacks can yet testifie. King Richard hauing againe taken possession of his Kingdome, and imperiall dignity, first gracing his two déere friend of A [...]undell and Oxfor [...], [...]o [...]th commendable ad [...]ancement for their loues and loyaltie [...], then preparing in his City of London a royall lodging [...]o [...] his faire loue, néere vnto Cheape-side, called his Tower [Page 16] Royall, Men royall (as he said) in harbouring so faire a Pa­ramour, as was diuine Clarabell: In this place repaired he full often vnto her, and tasted of those delights in nature, spotting her name with the title of a Kings Concubine. Long was he lulled in the cradle of pleasures, carelesse of ho­nours aduancement, neglecting his countries fame: knight­ly Chiualry was conuerted to courtly dances, the lullabies of idle pastimes rockt him asléepe, till the disgraces of Eng­land (receiued by his late imprisonment) awaked him, and called to armes: Then rowsing vp his Knightly courage, like Fames darling (being set amongst his Barrons) he said as followeth. Now Fire and Sword, the two instru­ments of consuming warre, shall forrage Austria, and by the Kingdomes ruine, worke me a swéet reuenge.

My wrongs there receiued by the vniust decrées of Don Iohn, shall be quittanced with more then common spoiles, his Court shall swim in blood, his turrets flame in fire, heaps of mangled men, choake vp his stréetes, woe vpon woe, shall beset him round.

Troy in her ten yéeres warres did not endure more cala­mities then Austria shall shortly suffer. These and such like high spirited spéeches, did King Richard speake amongst his Lords, to the great incouragement of them all, and so fired their lusty bloods, that well were they that could the most gal­lantliest set forth themselues, and be the most forwardest in his noble enterprise.

So desirous were all estates, and so willing in this noble warre, that in lesse then twenty daies the King was the roy­all Generall of fifty thousand Souldiers, all prouided so manfully, as if they had gone to make a new conquest of Ie­rusalem. In which honourable iourney we will leaue him, and also the preparation that Don Iohn made to withstand him, and his army, and speake of the birth of Faukonbridge, borne and kept secretly in King Richards Tower royall, with many other strange euents that happened in the birth of this Princely babe.

CHAP. III. Of the birth of Faukonbridge, and how he came to be so na­med: and likewise how he was nursed by the Queene of Fairies. Faire Clarabels lamentation for the losse of her young sonne, and of other accidents.

TIme the conclusion of all euents, brought to the worlds eye, the springing wombe of Cla­rabell, and néerely tenne Moones had now wandred out their wained courses, when as therein King Richards royall fruit began to grow ripe and ready to fall, against which ioyfull houre, the carefull Lady spared for no cost, and with her déere relenting heart solicited heauen for a happy deliue­rie, the onely desire of all weomen. I will not speake of the tender natured Nurses, the diligent Midwiues, nor the rich furniture prouided against that time: néedlesse it were to re­port the sumptuousnesse of banqueting dishes, nor the va­riety of seruices belonging to so noble a businesse, most ho­nourable and gracious were all the procéedings of this her Christian-like child-birth, not any displeasing obiect hinde­red her content, nor any way disquieted her mind, but onely the want of her beloued, whose presence in her eye had béene more delightsome then the pleasures of Elizeum: Little sup­posed shée that King Richard had taken armes against her Father, the successe whereof would haue but bred a strise be­twixt loue and nature: For nature in reason tooke her Fa­thers part, when as loue leaned to her Lord, yet shrowded were all imaginations in the closet of secretnesse, and she least report thereof sounded in her eares. Vnknowne were all these procéedings: For King Richard at his departure gaue commandement not to reueale them, till heauen had brought light to the fruit of her body. To be short, the minute appro­ched of the Babes comming into the World, a sweet tender [Page 18] blossome, a most ioyfull wish for the pained Mother, who being borne, was to the beholders an excellent péece of na­tures worke-manship, vpon whose Infant brow sat the pro­mises of good Fortune.

After the Midwife (according to her manner) had trim­med vp the swéet Babe, and shewed him naked (to the other weomen her associats) being a man child, vpon his breast it had the picture of a golden Faulkon, soaring ouer a most dangerous bridge, the which being shewed as a wonder in nature, the honorable Ladies in the Kings Court, by whose meanes it was generally reported through the Land, and af­ter called in Christendome, by the name of George Lord Faukonbridge: A title fitting for so noble an Impe of vertue, being descended from so royall a stocke (as was King Ri­chard and faire Clarabell.) But to come to our purpose, be­fore one moneth had run out thirty dayes, to the more then common griefe hf the mother, the tender Infant lying in his cradle, attended on by thrée carefull nurses, euen at the mid­dle houre of the night, when the siluer Moone in her greatest glory danced on the christall Seas, euen at that silent houre when the God of Dreames gouerned the World, there was heard in the chamber such a melodious sound of Musicke, as if it had béene the harmony of Angels, or the singing Cheru­bins of Heauen, which in a bewitching manner so inchanted the wakefull Nurses, that their eyes closed, and their sences yéelded to sound sléepes.

In this still time of silence, came in the Quéene of Fairies, with a troupe of her inuisible attendants, being the pretty dancing Elues of an vnknowne Kingdome, and stoale away young Faukonbridge out of his Princely cradle: whose misse (at his Nurses waking) bred such an amasement amongst them, as almost procured lunasie, and forced them (like Bac­chus froes) to runne madding vp and downe, not knowing in what manner to answere this their negligence: But yet this griefe of thiers, was but the induction to the true maze of calamity: the wofull mother (vnhappy Clarabell) made haplesse, miserable, and most wofull, by the losse of this her [Page 19] swéet Babe: this déere collop of her own flesh, being so déere­ly fed with her owne blood, forty wéekes cherisht in the Clo­set of her wombe, and euen now (contrary to all expectati­on) by the losse of it, to be bereaued of all worldly consolati­on. Oh thou vniust guider of mans life (quoth shée) what se­cret sinnes haue I committed against thy commanding dei­ty? what blake offence hath now dimmed the cléere beames of mercy, that her eluminating glory is thus with-holden from me? Why had it not béene strangled in my wombe, and made Deaths sacrifice before it had saluted the Worlds eye? then for the want thereof had I not thus mourned, nor the title of a mother thus vnhappily wrought my hearts discon­tent. Wéepe eternally (oh mine eyes) till you grow blind with lamentations; breake heart with swelling sobbes, split and burst asunder: Nothing but motions of crosse chances intercepts my imaginations, consuming sorrow (like a wa­sting tyrant) reuels in my distresses: Not any comfortable thought will in mercy seaze vpon my soule, pitty is fled, re­morse banished, and gentle relenting passions, workes won­ders in my griefe-tired heart.

Now this sudden losse of her young sonne, gaue her an oc­casion to desire the presence of King Richard, that in his com­pany shée might a little ease her sobbing bosome, and that an equall partition of griefe might be made betwixt them, con­sidering halfe of mischances spight belonged to him, being the Father, and begetter of this blooming Faukonbridge: But when shée had intelligence of his departure for Austria, and of his reuenge pretended against her Fathers Country, and her natiue soile, and birthplace, a sorrow beyond humane imagination assailed her heart, and a griefe (beyond the mise­ry of Hecuba Quéene of Troy, hauing lost one and twenty sonnes) seazed vpon her soule: words were not sufficient, teares of no force, sighes sobbing in blood, could not reueale the least part of her bitter anguish: All the tongues that euer spake, all the pens that euer writ, nor all the bookes that euer was, could more tell, write, or containe, the true manner of [Page 20] the disquietnes of this sorrowfull Lady, the true patterne of griefe sat heauily vpon her cloudy brow, and her eyes sparke­led as it were streames of afflictions, day and night spent shée comfortlesse away, food was as poyson to her body, sléepe as strange company, loathsome: solitary silence wrought her the best case: nothing but idle visions of discontent appeared before her: sometime shée supposed that grim-fast death with legions of wormes sat deuouring the tender body of her yong bade: Sometime againe, shée imagined that an army of An­gels conducted the pretty Impe into the blessed kingdome of heauen: by and by againe, that wilde beasts and rauing Foules, banquetted with his tender limbes: one while shée thought it lay staruing in the fields frozen to death with cold, another while parched with the beames of the hot Sunne: A thousand doubts had shée of the misaduenture of this yong babe, beléeuing neuer to sée it more, but that the doomes day of his liues ending had concluded all his Fortunes. Vpon which resolution, shée exempled her selfe from the company of all people, excepting one ancient Gentlewoman, that daily attended in her Chamber, which brought her such ne­cessaries as sufficed nature, where like the picture of woe, vnbrast, and disrobde of all Lady-like attires, with disheuel­led haire hanging downe to the earth, we will leaue her in this her Tower-royall, so called by the reason of her roy­all beauty, to the bitternesse of lamentations, fitting so sor­rowfull a Princesse, and speake of the fearefull Fortunes, that the three nurses had. After young Faukonbridge was in the possession of the faire Queene, the eldest of these vn­happy nurses, was a widdowed Lady of the Court, of a cleere complexion, faire and beautifull, whose face declared the la­mentable shew of discontent. Poore sorrowfull soule, after the young Infant was thus taken away, not knowing by what meanes, nor by whom, considering this her negligent care prooued a scandall to her reputation, shee exempted her selfe wilfully from the society of people, and gaue her selfe to trauell, protesting by the sacred Maiesty of Heauen, to leaue no kingdome vnsearcht, nor no nation vnseene into, till shee [Page 21] had found out young Faukonbridge, and brought him againe safely vnto his carefull mother. The second of these wofull nurses, being a rich London Merchants wife, in like man­ner (in pennance for this her negligence) put her selfe vnto a heauy taske, which was, to refuse all the ioyes of marriage, not to take the fruition of her husbands loue, not to sléep vp­pon downy beds, but to rest her selfe vpon the hard ground, making the dusty earth her pillow, where sighes and sobbes were her only companions, care her chamberlaine, and griefe her gardian, not any motion of delight could any more seaze vpon her heart, but all her meditations were still made vp­pon the wished returne of young Faukonbridge. The third and last, but not the least woful of these grieued nurses, was a plaine, wholsome natured countrey-woman, of a complex­ion like vnto the Shepheards of Idea Mountaines, neuer more fairer were the tripping Nimphes of Diana, sporting vpon Cipresse bankes, nor neuer did nature frame woman more beautiful: vpon her [...]héekes the lilly and the rose stroue for supremacy, and the Vermillion blush of her beauty wrought desire in all eyes, euen loue himselfe danced in her countenance, yet all these rich gifts of nature, were quite blemisht by the sudden fright taken at the losse of this ten­der babe, whose absence was as the bitter doome of death, and transformed all her wonted graces into pale feare, her face by it was changed into the shape of an ashy visage, or the wan countenance of a long dead body, all earthly conso­lation ended, no hope had shée of her former ioy; dispaire, blacke melancholy, deadly houres, and vnlucky thoughts harboured in her pensiue bosome, and by the losse of that sweete Infant, (at whose birt heuen the Muses dan­ced,) all following good Fortune (was quite from this Nurse exiled:) and as a punishment therefore, for her negli­gence, shée promised by a solemne vow made secretly with her owne heart, neuer to tast other foode, but rootes, hearbes, and such things as grew in the desart woodes, nor neuer to drinke other liquour but cleere water, [Page 22] taken from running riuers, her companions were siluaine beasts, and foules of the aire, which in their natures séemed to assist her in this her languishing life: long liued shée, with the rest of her wofull partners, making their daily orazons for the swéet returne of this royall babe, for whom the whole land in great sorrow mourned, whom we will leaue till ano­ther time, and perseuer in these following euents that hap­pened to King Richard, being wading in Austria through Seas of blood.

CHAP. IIII. A wofull report of King Richards death. Of faire Clarabels lamentation for the same. Of her grieuous punishment by famine, and of other accidents.

AFter some little ease, like the swéet returne of some long absent friend, had mittigated the in­ward sorrowes of faire Clarabell, and that a little the remembrance of her Infants losse, some-what ceased her former laments, thin­king to cheere her sad heart with infusing delights, that shée hoped to enioy by the swéet presence of King Richard, wish­ing hourely his company, little dreaming of his departure for Austria, but that he reuealed in his owne Court, to her great ioy, and his owne renowne, that at his first arriuall into her presence, they might like Mars and Venus surfet in delight, or like Paris with his Helena, seale vp the true quit­tances of desire, but all was not as shée wished; for her hearts beloued, King Richard, flourished in the royalties of Belonaes battels, wading in blood, and mounted vpon his vndaunted courser, treading vpon mangled men, and marching after the cheerefull melody of warre.

Which when the poore distressed Lady hard off, like a con­demned exile, banished from all solace, shée exclaimed against [Page 23] cruell desteny, reuiling the angry Quéene of chance, accoun­ting all her hopes ominous, and her selfe the onely patterne of misfortunes.

Oh (quoth shée) what vnlucky planet predominated my birth? why was I borne to these miseries? I liue destitute of friends in an vnknowne kingdome, dishonoured with the title of a Curtizan, a pointing marke for vertuous Ladies, a staine of woman-hood. Oh why was I borne to commit so foule a sinne, that blemisheth the glory of all Princes? Oh vnkind King Richard, now I sée thou heapest vpon my backe a second misery, as thou hast disrobed me of virginity, ma­king me neither wife, widow, nor maide: so wilt thou or­phane me, and intitle me by the name of a parentlesse child: Woe vpon woe I sée pursues me, calamity, discontent, sor­row, despaire, yea, and all the miseries that euer haplesse woman indured, now like whirle-winds, or tempestuous gusts, tumbles my care kild heart into the gulfe of vnpitied afflictions; be iust thou punisher of blacke trespasses, for my skarlet sinnes knocke at Heauen gates for reuenge, and my desert excéedeth Tarpies that sold Rome, or the daughter of Ninus that betraied her fathers kingdome: for euen as the Viper I féed vpon my Parents woe, and as the curse of nature, haue gloried in disobedience, what good fortune can I challenge at the hand of destiny, in louing my fathers foe? yéelding that vnrecouered iem to his pleasure, as being well bestowed, might haue merited the worlds fame; but be­ing lost to satisfie his lust, hath placed me (for a strumpet) in the blacke booke of infamy? who can pitty my extremi­ties, or what gentle eye will vouchsafe thereat to shed one teare? Teares from a remorslesse bosome are most comfor­table dewes, and the swéet waters of hearts ease. These, or such like passions breathed shee from her discontented bo­some, which manner of lamentations once a day shée made to the sightlesse aire, till the time of sixe moneths ouerpassed, at the end whereof, there arriued at her lodging, the two Earles of Arundell and Oxford, newly returned from Au­stria, [Page 24] being the onely counsellors to King Richard in all his procéedings, which two Lords brought the heauiest newes that euer néerely touched England, such newes that might euen haue broke a sauage heart, newes of death and dolour, the signification thereof sate like characters in their fore­heads, and as it were made dumbe shewes of discontent, being with heauy countenances both come into the presence of Lady Clarabell, the good Earle of Arundell said as follow­eth. Prepare (swéet Lady) with a gentle silence, to entertaine the wofullest tale that euer man at armes reported, for it tels of blood and death, and of the ruine of imperious soue­raignety. Know faire Clarabell that in one day by the fury of relentlesse warre, thou hast lost both thy Father and thy Loue: First thy Father when the battels ioined, closed with high spirited Richard in such Princely resolution, as euen fi­red his whole army with the liuely sparkes of valour, and so proudly managed himselfe against the gun-shot of chance, as if Hector and Achilles combated each other. On the other side English Richard, vnder whose ensignes our selues mar­ched so nobly, and so beyond expectation he behaued him­selfe, as if Mars fought vpon the earth, both Heauen and Earth thundered forth their glories: Our two Armies were in number like the Campe of Scythian Tamberlaine, which (as it were) made the huge earth to grone.

Neuer since the ten yéeres warres at Troy, did mans eye behold so numberlesse a multitude, all valiant, fearelesse, and aduenturous; we for the honour of England, they for the honour of Austria: Seas of blood couered the gréene fields, and the féete of horses trampled out dead mens braines, the cries of dying souldiers séemed like thunder, and the christ al Aire spread forth her sable Canopy, mourning at so wofull a massacre. After thousands lay breathlesse on the hungrie earth, glutted with the blood of so many thousand Christi­ans, the victory grew so doubtfull, that Lady Fortune sate wauering, not resolued to what side to yéeld it: But woe is me, euen then the glory of both our Armies faded, and the [Page 25] eluminating light of two Princes was by consuming death extinguished: Austria lost royall Don Iohn, your Father, and wee imperious Richard our King. Two such losses, as Eu­rope for them weepes blood, and may well consume in griefe: Vpon whose deaths, both our Armies sounded retreate, a peace proclaimed, and both their bodies had such funerals as befitted the persons of such high dignities.

Our Leaders and Captaines (hauing lost their Princely Generall, imbraced peace, and with the Swordes sheathed, Cullors rolled vp, and with heauy hanging countenances, are now arriued in England, where (with the generall con­sent of the whole Nobility) we haue crowned Iohn his bro­ther, King of this Countrey, whom in all allegiance we will henceforth honour and obey. More would they haue spoken, but the griefe of Clarabella so abounded, that shee could keepe silence no longer: but in great extremity of passion burst out into these spéeches.

Héere (quoth shée) let the World end; for the terrible ex­tremity of woe (like the raging Ocean,) breakes in, and ouer­flowes all my ioyes: I haue lost my Father, Friends, Coun­trey, Kinred, Acquaintance, yea, and my Child: and the dea­rest of all Iewels, Royall King Richard, by whose death I am made most vnfortunate.

Descend some vnlucky starre, fall vpon me you fatall pla­nets, and strike me blinde, that my sightlesse eyes may behold no further miseries. Where art thou mischance? afflict me with some fearefull confusion; that like the wife of Oedi­pus, the whole World may report my shame. Heauens bles­sings (I sée) hath refused me, and like an out-cast loaden my blood-red heart with more then earthly sorrow, and with which it is rent, torne, and most lamentably tormented.

At these wordes shée offered to teare forth her owne eyes, had not the gentle aduice of the two Earles perswaded her to patience, which shée willingly imbraced, and so for that time parted company: Shée to her sorrowfull closet, they to the new refined Court, where (after K. Iohn had intelligence of [Page 26] the successes of Clarabella, sent to her a commission of banish­ment, with a commandement that no English subiect vpon paine of death, should giue her any sustenance of food, where­by her wantonnesse might be scourged with pining famish­ment: a grieuous and seuere penance, deseruing the name of heathen tyranny. But such was the indignation of King Iohn, and so violent in wrath, that euen death quittanced her fauourites. (Poore mappe of misery!) shée was forced to for­sake Courtly fashions, and to exchange her costly attires in­to beggers wéeds: shée that had wont to féed vpon the varie­ty of dainties, was now sufficed with course seruices, no o­therwise then with those things that satisfied hunger-star­ued hounds: many a little dogge (in the laps of young wan­tons) had more abundance of food then this gallant Lady had. Day by day walked shée comfortlesse vp and downe the stréetes, moning her owne misfortunes, yet vnpittied, and left to her complaint. Night by night wearied shée out the long houres with remembrances of her former life, where euery minutes thought begot new griefe, and euery thought of new griefe almost split her heart: sighes were as common obiects to satisfie her discontents, being displeased with all things shée cast her eye vpon. Not any comfortable motion could shée entertain, wearied shée grew of the wanton world, not knowing which way to turne her selfe: Misery followed her vp and downe; when shée remembred Austria her Fa­thers Kingdome, disobedience cut her heart, when shée cal­led to mind her Virginities wracke, a thousand woes (ioi­ned with repentance) ouerwhelmed all insuing hopes, and almost cast her into desperation, shée supposed pitty to be deafe, and the tender remorse of humane gentlenes to bée shut vp against her. Shée that lately abounded in plentuous­nesse, now liued in want of a beggars pittance, shée onely fed vpon sorrow: Sighes were her food, and teares her drinke, wo, misery, and penury, in most extreame manner, tormen­ted her pining carkasse, till pouerties thinne countenance conuerted her rose-like chéekes into a pale complexion: her [Page 27] hollow eyes séemed like the empty cels of death, sorrowes badge (which is a wrinckled brow, declared to the world pi­tifull prospects, to the wringing handed griefe of the behol­ders, which were not a few in number.) See into this globe of misery (you blazing starres of Christendome) you flou­rishing Damsels, that sels your bodies pleasures to make your soules blacke: You that liue by the spoiles of youth, making a pastime of wantonnesse, gathering to your selues the hated names of common Curtizans, corrupted with most vile diseases, loathsome and full of leprosie. To ouer­passe many woes, poore Clarabell indured in this pining pe­nance, we will leaue her lying vpon the bare earth (by a spit­tle gate) onely for an example to all such carelesse liuers, be­ing too simple a lodging for a Princes daughter, and re­turne to the succéeding euent of young Faukonbridge, and those thrée vnhappy Nurses, séeking for this Babe of honor.

CHAP. V. How young Faukonbridge was found by King Iohn in his hunting. How hee preserued his Mothers life (vnknowne to him: And likewise how he succoured the three Nurses; and of the three gifts giuen him by the Queene of Fay­ries.

NOw must we suppose Time (in his swiftest course to runne along) and some certaine yeares to passe ouer the head of Faukonbridge, where (taking leaue of the Fayry Queene,) he had thrée of the richest gifts giuen him by her, as neuer worldly man was owner off. The first was a gar­ment made him of the Lyons skinne, that his Father Ri­chard Cordelyon slew in Austria, of vertue so precious, that the wearer thereof should neuer faint in courage, but euer continus Victor in all atchieuements. The second a purse of gold, of such a plentifull treasure, that can neuer grow [Page 28] empty, but as it is taken forth, the vertue thereof reple­nisheth it againe, by which meanes it continues full. The third a ring of such inestimable price, that by the touch ther­of healeth all diseases (neuer so dangerous and vncurable.) These were the blessings of the Fayry Queene bestowed vp­pon this yong gallant, which he receiued as his patrimony, and kept them as the onely gifts of good Fortune.

Thus being of the age of fiftéene yéeres, he continued in the woods (like vnto a sauage satyre) vnacquainted with worldly people, rouing vp and downe, vntill such time as King Iohn of England, (his vnckle by the Fathers side) found him in his wild quality: but séeing him replenished with such lineaments of nature, strong, and sturdy, as pro­mised ensuing honors: He tooke him to his kéeping, and gaue him in charge to an ancient Noble man of his Court, to be trained vp, and taught perfectly his naturall English tong, which hee most spéedily accomplished to his high renowne: whereupon the King soone aduanced his estate, and made him groome of his priuy chamber; but he hauing the lofty spirit of Knight-hood springing in his brest, aimed at nobler aduentures, and to winne credit by the strength of his body, desired the Kings leaue to depart his Court, and to trie for­raigne atchieuements in the honour of God and his Coun­trey: which princely request did not a little content the King, whereupon he gaue him a horse well furnished with all the abilliments fitting so resolued a Gentleman, and with all graced him with the picture by nature set vpon his brest. Thus after leaue taken, like one of Fames darlings, this knightly Faukonbridge in the spring-time of his youth, com­mitted himselfe to fortunes fickle fauours, where after he had trauelled some few daies iournies from the English Court, he arriued at the gate of an Hospitall, whereat lay Clarabell his vnknowne mother, begging for reliefe, with these lines grauen ouer her head vpon the wall in capitall letters, according to King Iohns commandement.

Lord Faukonbridge hauing read this superscription, in pitty rued her estate, not knowing her to be his mother, for as yet his parents were vnknown to him, yet harbouring in his breast noble thoughts, he could not choose but extend cha­rity vnto her, and being the first of his aduentures, and the maiden-head of his mercy, the first good déed that euer he did, therefore he willingly alighted from his palphrey, and in tender pitty tooke the halfe starued Lady by the hand, saying; If thou béest descended royally, as these letters witnes that thou art, I am bound in all knightly curtesies to defend thée, and in maugre of blacke Fortunes spight, succour thy di­stressed estate, as it séemes now the worlds out-cast. Tell me faire Lady thy name, thy birth, and abode, and as I am sworne true Knight, I will be thy champion, and conduct thée safely into thine owne countrey. These gentle promises made by Lord Faukonbridge, aspired new life into her fading body, who with a chéerefull countenance spake as followeth:

Deare Knight thy desert I know not, but surely thou séemest to be gracious in all thy procéedings, and desires not I know to inforce a Lady, to speake of that which will breake her heart to remember: Yet because thou promisest [Page 30] me thy gentle aide, to deliuer me from this miserable vale of woe, and set me wishedly vpon the shore of my natiue kingdome, vilely dishonoured by my wilfull follies: Vn­derstand then I was borne in Austria, my name Clarabell, Princely my Father, from whom I disobediently fled for the loue of a Northerne Monarke, vnto whom I yéelded vp the pleasures of my virginity, the losse whereof made me, (though no wife) yet an vnhappy mother: for which blacke sinne I am now thus punished. Question no further swéet Gentleman, for the rest will bereaue me of life, but accor­ding to thy noble disposition, be my gardian, and conduct me to my natiue countrey, and the rewarder of all good déeds, will quittance your curtesies. Indéed faire Lady (quoth he) as our oathes in Knight-hood be so to doe, so in performance thereof I will aduenture my life, though it be to the Kings high displeasure. So taking her vp behind him vpon his horse, he carried her to the next towne, and there both chee­red her pining body with comfortable victuals, and after cloathed her in such garments as befitted the degrée of a Gentlewoman, and so set forwards towards Austria, spen­ding the slow time away with pleasing discourses, little thinking of the néere alliance that was betwixt them two, the one the mother, the other the sonne: but heauen meaning to shew a wonder in their liues, would not as yet suffer their kindreds to be brought to light.

So trauelling on as I said before, they were intercepted by a most strange obiect, which were thrée most distressed creatures, séeming by their attires to be weomen, and the thrée nurses (in former times) of young Faukonbridge, which Clarabell full well knew, but that shée feared to be dis­couered. The good Knight being stil pittifull, beholding their miseries, the one dumbe, the next blind, and the third lame. Thrée woefull companions, whom age and time had thus crossed with heauy calamity, hee like a true godly minded man, with that ring which the Fairy Quéen had giuen him, cured all their maladies, the vertues of it being so excel­lent, [Page 31] that it no sooner touched their dismembred bodies, but immediately they were all made perfect, the lame could goe, the blinde sée, and the dumbe speak: which miracle done by Lord Faukonbridge, according to the will of heauen, in­forced teares through extreame ioy, to fall from the three recouered Nurses eyes, desiring the maker of all things to reward his curtesies. The good Knight, not onely cured their griefes, but gaue them great store of gold out of his most plentifull purse, another gift from the Fairy Quéene by him receiued. Now these thrée new reuiued weomen be­ing safe and sound, no sooner departed, but faire Clarabell greatly desired to be Mistresse of two such precious Iewels as this Ring and the Purse was, whereupon in most gentle manner shée intreated Lord Faukonbridge to bestow them vpon her, that for his sake shée might were them, a fauour to her heart (as shée said) more inualuable then was the Iewell that Marke Anthony, gaue Cleopatra Quéene of Egypt, gifts in his imagination, prised aboue the worlds Monar­chy, yet being loath to deny her request, he most willingly gaue her them, and with his owne hand putting the Ring vpon her pretty finger, and tying the rich purse by her come­ly side, he said, Neuer let Knightly prowesse aduance my re­putation, nor record my liues fame in the booke of memora­ble time, but let me die blotted with cowardice, the foule staine of matchlesse Knighthood, when I refuse to accomplish the least motion of your Lady-ships desire: for in your coun­tenance shines honourable graces, and promiseth dignified vertue. To whom Clarabell with a modest behauiour an­swered in this sort: And much were I too blame (Sir knight) if I should not seeke by desert to requite your kindnesse, and vile ingratitude as a disgrace to my calling, might be well allotted to my share: If time and good fortune euer aduance me to my former estate, I will make thy credit equall Gre­cian Achilles, and cause the worlds famous antiquaries to signifie thy martiall condition: thou hast bewitcht mee with thy vertues, and with the chaine of manly carriage bound [Page 32] my life to thy seruice: Reseruing my honour, I humble my selfe to thy noblenesse, which honour onely I once submitted to a King, the fruit thereof might I but liue to sée, my earths content were then growne to a perfection. Liuing, or dead, great Ioue protect him: this is my orizon to heauen, and vp­pon this doe I daily meditate. These misticall spéeches of hers, might haue lighted the fire of discouery, but that blind fate would not as yet haue them knowne. These and such like, were the pleasurable discourses betwixt these two tra­uellers, with the which they spent away many a long day and weary night, without any aduenture worth the noting. But as Fortune is not alwaies smiling, here shée beganne a­gaine to frowne, and to crosse their desires with an vnlookt for chance: For vpon a hot summers day, when the bright Sunne in his greatest glory shined in the horizon, in a most intollerable heat, the poore Lady wearied with trauell, sat her downe to rest in a pleasant gréene shade of trées (where dallying with the Ring vpon her lap) shée fell fast asléepe, du­ring which swéet slumber, there came a huge blacke Rauen soaring by, and thinking the yellow Ring to be some prey, which lay vpon her lap, with her tallents catcht it vp, and therewithall flew quite away, to the great amasement of Lord Faukonbridge, standing by the sléeping Lady as her gardiant, and being loth to loose so rare a Iewell, moun­ted vpon his Stéed, and in most swift manner followed the Rauen so farre, that he quite lost the presence of faire Cla­rabell, whom (for a while we will leaue sléeping) and speake what strange aduenture happened to this noble Knight.

CHAP. VI. How Lord Faukonbridge was found by the Moores, and pre­sented to the King of Morocco. Of his aduentures in that Kingdome. The lamentation of Clarabell for her passed life: and how in penance thereof, shee builded a Monastery for the receit of poore Pilgrims.

NOble minded Faukonbridge, followed the flight of this rich prised Rauen, carrying in his beake the worth of a Kings ransome, not resting nor pitching vpon any trée or branch, till shée had let the Ring fall into the Sea, which struck such terrour to the heart of Fau­konbridge, (then standing vpon the shore, séeing the euent) that he almost cast himselfe after it into the waues, but that better graces guided him, and hope of better Fortunes re­strained his desperatenesse. Standing thus amased, and cal­ling to mind the losse of Clarabella (whom he had left com­fortlesse behind) sléeping in a gréene shade of trées, not know­ing how, nor which way to returne backe, belieuing neuer more to behold her Angelicall countenance: Therefore like a mournefull Traueller (loosing himselfe in some desart wil­dernesse) he breathed out this vnpittied lamentation:

Many and vnlucky are my first aduentures (quoth he) at­tended on by crosse chances, and vntoward procéedings; no motion of reliefe can I premeditate vpon. For I am come by ill Fortune into a place of desolation, not frequented by the habitation of man: Here liues nothing but gréene bel­lied Serpents, roaring Wolues, and beasts of fearefull shapes, such as may well terrifie the proudest courage: Here sounds no other Ecchoes but the croakes of Rauens, night-Owles, cries, and the bellowing of vntamed Tygers, such as thunders forth nothing but sounds of death and destru­ction: here is no other food to sustaine nature, but wild hem­locks, henbane, and such impoisoned wéedes, the onely store­house [Page 34] of blacke inchanters, witches, and charmers, the aire séemes to be corrupted, and the earth casts vp putrifying sa­uours, worse then the smoaking lake where Sodome and Gomorra stood. In this manner complained he for the space of thrice twelue houres, looking euery houre to be deuoured by wild beasts, but that his Lyon-like garment which hee wore, made them thinke him to bee one of their number, which sauage creatures in tame manner lodged by his side.

As he thus betwéen feare and hope, expected present death, hee beheld a Turkish galley houering by the shore side, the Captaine whereof (being a noble minded Gentleman) at the first sight of young Faukonbridge, cast a Land, where (be­holding his distresses) tooke him aboord, which [...]nlookt for fa­uour, not a little reioiced him: but being so happily preser­ued from death, most willingly submitted to their mercies, they being Moores, he a Christian: they misbeléeuing, he true in faith, they blacke, he faire, two extreame contrarie­ties: yet when these Heathen people beheld his face stored with such maiesty, resembling the beauty of his Creator: they admired his Angelike countenance, neuer before that time séeing a man of his colour, but all blacke like them­selues, therefore supposing to haue found some heauenly An­gell, they presented him to their King, as then kéeping his Court some foure miles distance from that place, on the o­ther side of the Sea, (being but a créeke of the maine Ocean) in a most sumptuous Pallace, for brightnesse like to the Tower of the Sunne.

The Morrocco King with his blacke countenance, ad­uancing himselfe in his royall throne, with great admirati­on receiued Lord Faukonbridge, not as a Captiue, or a chai­ned Galley-slaue, but like the Darling of Maiesty, or as the Paragon of Fame, sent from Heauen to glorifie his Court. Legions of reports might wee make of his entertainement with the Morocco King and his Nobles, who estéemed him rather to be some God, then a worldly man, more dignified honours heaped they vpon his backe, then euer that country [Page 35] gaue vnto a stranger. The wealth of that Kingdome made they his treasury, and masses of Indian pearles lay still at his commandement, the time of his abode there passed on a­pace, and iollity of his life made seuen yéers but as a month-

Which being ouerpassed, it was his chance vpon a so­lemne festiuall day, which was the birth day of their King, onely once in seauen yéeres solemnized, to behold the chiefest of the Kings Nobility in their richest ornaments, going as it were on procession in the honour of their Prophet Maho­met. Placing him (as it séemed in heauen) to the high dis­honour of the Christians God, whose wrath and indignati­on is the whole Worlds confusion, and whose fauour the preseruation of man-kind.

This God and liuing Power, was the Patrone of Lord Faukonbridge, by whose fauour he hoped to conquer Fats, and subdue Kingdomes: This God when he saw him thus highly dishonoured, fury possest him, and to the great dispa­ragement of all that heathen Nation, he desperately tore downe the picture of Mahomet, and with his kéene edged Semitary cut it in small pieces, to the great amasement of the Kings Nobility, who in gréedy reuenge furiously set vp­pon him altogether (like a number of whelps vpon a prince­ly Lyon) who so Lyon-like behaued himselfe, that in lesse then halfe an houre, hee left breathlesse vpon the blood-died earth, more then sixe and twenty of the Kings Nobles, ap­prouing here his vnconquerable valour, procéeding from the vertue of his Lion like garment, which the Fairy Quéene had giuen him.

At this bold enterprise performed with his owne hand, he caused the Moores to ring forth their Alarum Bels, and to fire their Beakons, to raise vp their country forces, thinking that heauen had thither sent a confounder of mankind, and that by his onely meanes their kingdome should be subdued.

This matchlesse enterprise performed by noble minded Faukonbridge, did not a little perplex the King, nor no idle feare assailed his mind, but such a fright as made his very soule to tremble: wherefore to rid his kingdom from present [Page 36] danger, in most kind manner he proclaimed truce, and dis­semblingly applauded Lord Faukonbridg for this desperate attempt: (and though to his griefe of mind) with faire and princely promises, he perswaded this English Gallant to de­part his Country: and the more to aduance his deserued ho­nours, the King bestowed vpon him twelue barrels of good red gold, and withall a shippe well furnished, to conduct him home into his owne Country. Which kind fauour was most gratefully accepted off by noble Faukonbridge, who leauing the Morocco Kingdome, put himselfe to Sea, committing his fortunes againe to the merciles waues, but making the Pi­lot and Marriners beléeue, that the twelue barrels of gold, were but twelue barrels of red lead: a commodity most pre­cious in his natiue Countrey. The Pylot supposing no otherwise, sailed amaine with prosperous wind towards the Northerne nations. In which succesfull iourney, we will leaue now Lord Faukonbridge, and returne to his vnknown Mother (Lady Clarabell) whom we left as you heard before, sleeping vnder a shade of trées, where Lord Faukonbridge beganne to follow the chace, after the vnlucky Rauen.

Clarabell as we spake of before in her swéete sleepe, little dreaming of the absenee of Faukonbridge, at her awaking, both mist him, and the ring; two losses so precious, as euen caused sorrow to reuel in her bosome, that Ioy was a stran­ger, and content exiled; diuers were the doubts shee had of his misaduentures, one while shee supposed death like a ty­rant had possest him, another while shee feared the breach of his promise, and that he had secretly fled from her, bearing a­way with him the inchanted Ring: Now one thing, then a­nother, not knowing what to coniecture, but when shee saw her selfe quite bereft of his sweet presence, the onely preser­uer of her life, exempted from al hope of his recouery, in great griefe of minde, shee betooke her selfe to trauell, and so with weary steps followed on the first path shee found, wherein shee wandred day and night, receiuing little rest, and lesse food, making this sorrowfull mone vnto her selfe. Oh thou [Page 33] iust doome (quoth shee) of all offences, will thy heauy wrath be neuer mittigated? shall this my pining punishment ne­uer end? shall woe vpon wo still pursue me? weep in teares oh mine eyes, be neuer dried faire lamentations: euen at that houre when I hoped all sorrowes to be finished, began new griefe, when in loosing my Sonne, I found a Friend, whom now wanting, I find eternall causes of discontent: It cannot be possible, but that some dismall mischance hath befallen him, or some vnlucky Lot deceiued me of him, there is no likely-hood of his selfe-wild departure, for in his breast he harboured thoughts of true humanity, honour guided him, and vertue was his friend: how can it then be that of his owne accord he is departed? Surely some vnlucky euent hath befalne him: therefore, oh my heart sob in griefe, and for his sake make thy life but a pilgrimage of woe, consume in care, waste with wéeping, for I haue lost the Paragon of Knight-hood, whose countenance promised me to aduance my desired hope, and bring me safely vnto the shoare of my natiue Countrey: but séeing dole and discontent hath cros­sed all my good Fortunes, I will for his sake, with the trea­sure of my neuer emptied purse, receiued from him, built vp a Monastery, and in the same (like a Monasticke Nunne) spend out my daies in the seruice of that God that hath thus crossed me, and there be a continuall comforter of distressed Pilgrims, and warfaring trauellers, hoping that if life be in my déere friend, he will once againe arriue in that hap­py place, and once more satisfie my thirsting eye with his Princely person. Being thus resolued, shée trauelled some thrée moneths iourney from the place, where shée lost her déere friend the Lord Faukonbridge, and there close by the Sea side, shée builded a most stately Monastery, relieuing still the wants of such distressed trauellers as passed that way, yéelding as well lodging, as meat and drinke, to such as stood in néed thereof: For the maintenance thereof, shée had her inchanted purse still ready furnished; thither resor­ted people of all degrées, thither came Princes, Monarkes, [Page 34] and maiesticke Kings, that trauelled in deuotion to the shrine of Christ in Ierusalem. Thither came worthy cham­pions, Knights errant, and such as sought for knightly at­chieuements: t [...]ither came religious Church-men, Pre­lates, and holy minded men, zealously séeking by Pilgrima­ges to wipe away worldly offences, thither came Plowmen, Shepheards, Fishermen, and such as were numbred a­mongst the common people, thinking thereby to obtaine ab­solution for their misdéeds, euery one offering in zeale vn­to her great store of riches, whereof shée had little néed, ac­counting it meritorious to giue towards the maintenance of so vertuous a custome. Amongst which number of Benefa­ctors, there was one Peter a Fisherman, that in deuotion of minde, presented vnto her a most dainty Fish called a Dol­phin, a present more fitter for a Prince, then such an humble minded woman as shée was, whose humility almost in that Countrey purchased her the name of a Goddesse: This gift from the fisherman was by her most curteously receiued, and most bountifully requited with great store of golde, which shée tooke from out her inchanted purse: Herewith was old Peter well pleased, and the Lady better contented, for in the Dolphins belly shée found the same Ring, which the Rauen let fall into the Sea, the same Ring after which Lord Faukonbridge so vnhappily followed, the same King that by the precious touch of it healed all diseases. In this accident fortune shewed the pride of her glory, and brought more strange admiration into the heart of Clarabell, then euer shée expected: but being possest thereof, shée verily belée­ued that noble Faukonbridge lay intombed in the watery Kingdome, and that neuer more the consolation of his pre­sence should in ioyfull manner delight her desirefull eye: pale death (as shee supposed by the finding of this Ring) had made prize of his life, too rich a Iewell, as shee said, for this vngratefull World, therefore in the true zeale of heart, and in remembrance of his worthinesse, shee caused a Faulkon of Gold to be set vpon the top of the Monastery, wherein [Page 35] shée dwelled, the bright eluminating colour thereof shined into the Sea, and was euer after that made a marke, or a guide for Mariners to saile by. Also like a curteous Lady, to quittance old Peter the fishermans rich present, by good Fortune bestowed vpon her, shee canonised the Monastery, and called it after his name, Saint Peters Hermitage a place of charity, and a receit for all such as wanted maintenance. After this, thousands of oppressed people in this place found succour, Pilgrims and weary trauellers here freely found lodging: Widdowes and succourlesse Children, here tasted bounties liberality, maimed Souldiers, and such as lost their limbes in the seruice of their Countrey, here slept vpon downy beds, more softer then naples silke: Blind, deafe, and dumbe, in this place found helpe, not any diseased creature went from hence vncured, all which by this vertuous La­dy, was onely done in charity for Gods sake, and to appease the torments of his soule, that in guiding her to her natiue Countrey, lost his deere life. Wherefore from this day, to her liues departure, shée desired the fellowship of vertue, abandoning all immodest behauiour, vowing her selfe to the seruice of Heauen, and good déeds, in which shée continually striued to excéed all others of her time: which good deuotions we for a while will ouerpasse; and report of other delightfull accidents, agréeing to the course of this our History.

CHAP. VII. How Lord Faukonbridge lost himselfe in a barren Iland. His meanes of recouery. The finding againe of Clarabell. How these two were made knowne to each other. And of the great ioies betwixt the mother and her Sonne.

NOw is it time to report againe of Lord Fau­konbridge, and his fortunes on the Sea, and how his ship loaden with his barrels of golde, lay houering on the billowes, many a day ex­pecting a prosperous wind for England, but [Page 36] obtained none: For fate and good Fortune crossed their hopes, and want of victuals so oppressed them, that hunger almost surprised their liues, and like a pittilesse Tyrant would grant them no remorse: twise sixe moneths conti­nued this their extremity, to the terror of all good men, a death bringing horror both to man and beast. At the last, af­ter they had made many submissiue prayers to God for a good winde, Aeolus set open his brazen gates, and sent them such a gentle gale, that they in thrée houres sayling, arriued vpon an Iland so barren, that therein they found no other thing to succour their distresses, and preserue them from fa­mishment, but onely fresh water, with the which they suffi­ciently stored their ship, giuing Heauen thankes for so bles­sed a fauour. But this suffised not the desires of noble Fau­konbridge, hoping to find better reliefe for him and his men, resolutely aduentured further vp into the Iland, to discouer if he could wherewithall to vittaile his ship. But woe is me to report it, this aduenturous Gentleman tra­uelled so farre, that he lost his way, not being able to returne backe vnto his company, by which meanes he was constrai­ned to stay all night vpon the top of a trée, for feare of wilde beasts, whereof the Iland was full. But now marke how vnlucky all things fell out, the same night the wind rose, and so violently droue the ship from the shore, that the Pilot was inforced to leaue Lord Faukonbridge a Land, and com­mit his Fortunes to the Sea, where before day light they were cast vpon the coast where Saint Peters charitable Her­mitage was scituated, they being Infidels and Moorish na­tured people, neuer expected the safety of Lord Faukonbrdge, being a Christian, but left him comfortlesse in the barren I­land, and cast a shore where faire Clarabell abode, where com­ming a Land, desired her for his sake that created her, to affoord them some reliefe, whereby their liues might be sa­ued, and their ship sufficiently replenished with food fitting their intended voyage. Pittifull Clarabell good Lady▪ shée greatly reioiced that it lay in her power to furnish their [Page 37] wants, most willingly gaue them entertainement, and yéel­ded them such refreshing comforts, as preserued both their ship and liues from perishing. Likewise they meaning to expresse no vngratefull thankes for so kinde a fauour, as an humble signe of good will, curteously bestowed vpon her, the twelue barrels of gold which Lord Faukonbridge reported to be red lead, all which according to her gentle nature, noble minded Clarabell receiued. So parting with thankes to each other, the Pilot returned to Morocco, very ioyfull for the riddance of Lord Faukonbridge, their Countries supposed enemy, and shée no lesse delighted in the performance of her bountifull charity extended to the preseruation of so many dying men. All this while Lord Faukonbridge remained in the barren Iland, almost hunger-starued for want of food, in which place was nothing found to satisfie his gentle na­ture, but the flesh of wilde beasts which hee killed with his owne hands, which (for want of fire) hee rosted in the sun, and with the same, (to his content) made more pleasinger banquets, then when he feasted in the Morocco Court, one­ly patience chiefly guided him, but being thus lost, and exi­led from the society of humane creatures, he liued a long time in the woods, in such penurie and want, that his strength began to faile, sicknesse grew on, and danger of life tormented him for want of naturall sustenance, caused a grieuous kind of leprosie to grow quite ouer his body, in such sort, that his Princely countenance was suddenly chan­ged into a most vgly visage, and pale death as it were sate perching vpon his heauie brow, betwixt life and death, hee sate him down vpon the root of a dead withered trée, making this complaint vnto himselfe. If euer pitty (quoth he) entred the celestiall gate of Heauen, or euer remorsfull mercy ten­derly lookt into the poore estate of a miserable Gentleman, then by this my liues ruine, may be séene the true patter [...]e of calamity: woe vpon me, crosse vpon crosse, and extremity vpon extremity, makes a vnity, and all conspires together to worke my good Fortunes confusion. Here am I now left [Page 38] in a wildernesse of desolation, friendlesse without comfor­ter, not knowing which way to get forth, but committed to the vile tyranny of vntamed Tygers, euen ready to in­tombe my dying body within their blood-thirsting bowels, a graue most vnfit to close vp my new created life. In spea­king these words, he heard from a farre, as it were out of a hollow vaute, a voice sounding forth these spéeches: Faul­konbridge, rise vp and follow me: Fate and good chance will prosper thée. This séemed to be the voice of the Fairy Quéene, his old Nurse, being still most carefull of his liues preseruation, as it was indéed; which no sooner ecchoed in the eares of Lord Faukonbridge, but he arose from vnder the trée where he lay, and being ready to goe forward all weake and sickely as he was, he espied before, one of the Fairy Instruments, which was an Ignis Fatuis, the fire of destiny, or a going fire, which by nature fully leadeth wan­dring trauellers out of the way. This as his guide went still before him, he with a slow pace followed after, not inter­cepted by any misaduenture, till hee came to the Sea side, where being ioyfully arriued, in good time he beheld a Barke sailing by, to which he made shew of entertainement, as one desirous to be taken into their ship, and to be conducted in to some better resting place: both his motions and his in­tent the Mariners soone perceiued, whereupon they satis­fied his desire, and within few [...]aies set him safely vpon the next inhabited kingdome, which was the happy place where Clarabell affoorded such bountifull liberality. Being thither come, the Countrey people and such as beheld his perplexed estate, led him as diseased as he was vnto Clarabels Mona­stery, where being arriued, and standing shaking at the gate, he desired for his sake that pardoneth all sinnes, and requi­teth all good déeds, that shée would with the oyle of her skill balme his grieued paines, and with the mercy that shée frée­ly bestowes vpon distressed soules, cure his malady. Gentle Clarabell at this his humble request, called him in, leading him vp inio a close chamber, prepared onely for the comfort [Page 39] of such wofull creatures, in which place after shée had recei­ued his drooping sences, and by the vertues of the same ring (he in former times had bestowed vpon her) recouered his wonted health, shée séeming in his face, that beauty repleni­shed againe, which before that time shee supposed to haue séene, and calling to remembrance his former Fauour, shee perfectly knew him, whereupon seeking to imbrace him, shee sounded in his armes, and for the sudden ioy that he recei­ued by his strange returne, lay for a good season in a dying trance: but being by great diligence recouered, they recoun­ted each to other the wonderfull Fortunes passed betwixt them, from the first loosing of one another to that houre, Likewise he spake, how hee neither knew Father nor Mo­ther, nor from whence he descended, and withall (opening his bosome) he shewed her the golden Faulkon, by nature pictured vpon his breast, which when shee beheld, her very soule, as it were eleuated it selfe to Heauen, and more then mortall ioy possest her heart. By this shee knew him to bee her onely Sonne, begot by King Richard Cordelion, King of England, and so made it knowne vnto him. Which when good Lord Faukonbridge vnderstood, he in the true duty of a Sonne newly created, downe vpon his knées, craued her blessing, and in great humility of mind gaue thankes to hea­uen, in that it was his Fortune to defend his mother in an vnknowne Land, from so many dangers, and shee like­wise made many deuout Orizons to God, that in his mercy had so preserued them, and in this manner brought them most strangely together.