VNtill I waxt weary of my diademe, (ꝙ he) I was king of the famous Countrey of Den­marke, wherein, after Bosphorus deceassed, for so was my father called, I raigned in hap­pie prosperitie, comming to the Crowne at the age of one and twentie yeeres, beeing so honoured of my Subiects for my vertue, and so loued for my courtesie, as I did not onely gaine the harts of mine own Countrimen, but also win the good wil of strangers. I could not complaine of lack, in that my greatest want was store. I feared not the force of forraine foes, for I knew none but were my faithful friendes. I doubted no mis-fortune, for I coulde sée no waie for me to mishap: nay, if I had béene wise, I might y^e more haue feared miserie, in that I was so fullie pampered vppe with felicitie. But I poore wretch was not daunted with a­nie dread, because I sawe no present danger: I thought the sea being calme, there could come no tempest: that from the cléere aire could ensue no storme, that quiet ease was not the mother of dissention, and that where Fortune once tuned, in the strings could neuer be found any discorde.

But O fond and infortunate Arbasto, for so is my name, and therfore infortunate in that thou art Arbasto, thou now hast tried though by haplesse experience, that when Nilus fil­leth vp his bounds, ensueth a dearth: when the Angelica is laden with most seede, then hee dieth: when musicke was heard in the Capitoll, then the Romanes were plagued wyth pestilence: when Circes proffered most gifts, shee preten­ded most guile, and that when Fortune hath depriued thee of moste care, then shee meanes to drowne thee in the greatest calamitie: for as thus I safelie floated in the Seas of securitie, and bathed in the stréames of blysse, Fortune, thinking at length to giue me the mate, began thus [Page] to prosfer the check. I hauing but one onely brother called Tebaldo, whom forced by nature, I most entirely loued and liked, who soiourned in Frannce, as one desirous to see the manners of strange Countries, & to furnish himselfe wyth al qualities fit for a worthy Gentleman, I vnhappily recei­ued newes, that he was cowardly without cause slain in the French Court, which so appalled my sences, as nature most cruelly exclaimed against Fortune, in so much, that scorched with the flame of spéedie reuenge, contrarie to the counsaile of my nobles, with a resolute mind, I determined to inuade France, and either to bring y^e whole realme to ruine, or els to hazard life and limme in the battell: well, no perswasion beeing able to driue me from this setled determination, I caused my Ships to be rigged, and with as much spéede as might be, sayled into France with a great nauie, where I had no sooner landed my soldiers, but as a professed foe cra­uing no other recōpence for my brothers death but their de­struction, I burnt their borders, fired their forts, rased their Townes and Cities to the earth, vsing no mercie but this that hauing depriued them of their possessions, I also berea­ued them of their liues [...] Pelorus hearing with what violence I had inuaded his lande (for so the French king was called) fearing y^t he was not able to withstand my force, séeing that Fortune so fauoured my enterprise, passed spéedily with hys whole host vnto Orleance, whither I hasted being not greatly resisted, laying valiantly a strong siege to the citie, which after I had diuers times assaulted, & had so shaken y^e walls with Cannon shot, that they were forced to strengthen them with new counter mures. Pelorus halfe daunted with my desperat attempts, coueted secretly to conclude a peace: to colour therfore this his intent with a false shadowe, he spée­dily dispatched an Heralde, to intreat a truce for thrée mo­neths, which being vnhappily graunted, and therefore vn­happily because graunted, it was lawfull for them of Den­marke peaceably to passe into the Cittie, and for them of Orleance quietly to come into our Campe. While thus the [Page] truce continued, I beeing desirous to take a viewe of the French Court, accompanied with my Nobles, went to Pe­lorus, who willing to shewe his martiall courage by vsing courtesie to his foe, gaue me very sumptuous and courteous entertainment. But alas, such desaster hap ensued of this my fond desire, that death had béene thrise more welcome thē such endles distresse. For Pelorus had onely two daugh­ters, the eldest called Myrania, the yongest named Dorali­cia, so faire and well featured, as Venus would haue beene iealous if Adonis had liued to sée their beauties. But especi­allie louely Doralicia, and therefore more louely, because I so entirely loued, was so beautified with the gifts of nature, and so adorned with more then earthly perfection, as she sée­med to be framed by nature to blemish nature, and y^e beauty had skipt beyond her skil, in framing a péece of such curious workmanshippe, for that which in her (respecting her other perfections) was of no price, woulde be counted in others a pearle, her greatest want woulde in others bee thought a store, so y^t if any thing lacked in her, it was not to be sought for in any earthly creature. This Doralicia, beeing appoin­ted by vniust Fortune to be the instrument of my fall, accō ­panied with her sister Myrania and other Ladies, came in­to the Chamber where her father & I was at parle, whose gorgious presence so appaled my sences, that I stood astoni­shed, as if with Perseus shield I had béene made a sencelesse picture, not knowing from whence this suddaine and vncer­taine passion should procéed: yet this fond affection I felt to rule my fancie, that as the Dormouse can not shut his eies as long as he lieth in the beames of the Sun, as the Deare can not cease from braying where the herbe Moly groweth, so could not I but stare on the face of Doralicia, as long as her beauty was such an heauenly obiect. Shee narrowlie marking my gazing lookes, straight perceiued that I was galled, & therfore to shewe how lightly she accounted of my liking, passed out of the Chamber with a coye and courtlie countenance, but Myrania as one perceiuing and pittying [Page] my passions, séemed with her lookes to say in hart, Arbasto, farewell.

These two Goddesses beeing gone, féeling my minde somewhat perplexed, I tooke my leane of Pelorus, and de­parted. Comming home to my Tent, fraught with a thou­sand toyish fancies, I began to coniecture what should be the cause of these contrarie motions, the effect I felt, the occasi­on I could not find, applying therfore a contrary salue to my sore, it did rather increase, than cure the maladie, for compa­nie was a corsiue, not a comfort: thinking Musick shoulde be a preseruatiue, I founde it a poyson: and to bee solitarie, I found it the sinck of all sorrow: for then strange thoughts, vnacquainted passions, pinching fancies, waking visions, and slumbering watchings, disquieted my head. Me thought I sawe the counterfaite of Doralicia before mine eyes, then the harmonie of her spéech sounded in mine eares, her lookes, her gestures, yea, all her actions were particularly deciphe­red by a secret imagination. Wrapped thus in a laborinth of endlesse fancies, when reason coulde not suppresse will, nor wisedome controule affection, but that wit (though inuea­gled) yet disdained the vse of a guide. I then cast my cardes, and found by manifest proofe, that the lunatike fit which so distempered my braines, was that franticke passion which fooles and Poets call loue, which knowne, blaming my selfe of cowardise, that beautie should make me bend, I fel at last into these termes.

Why Arbasto (quoth I) art thou so squemish that thou canst not see Wine, but thou must surfet: canst thou not drawe nie the fire and warme thee, but thou must with Sa­tyrus kisse it and burne thee: art thou so little master of thy affections, that if thou gaze on a picture, thou must with Pig­malion be passionate: canst thou not passe thorough Paphos, but thou must offer incense to Venus? doost thou thinke it iniurie to Cupid to looke, if thou doost not looue. Ah fonde foole, knowe this, fire is to bée vsed, but not to be handled: the Baaran floure is to be worne in the hand, not chawed in [Page] the mouth: the precious stone Echites is to bee applied out­wardly, and not to be taken inwardly: and beautie is made to féede the eye, not to fetter the hart, wilt thou then swal­low vp the baite which thou knowest to be bane? wilt thou hazarde at that which can not bee had without harme? no, stretch not too far, wade not too deepe, vse beautie, but serue it not, shake the tree, but taste not of the fruite, least thou find it too hard to be disgested. Why, but beautie is a God, and will be obeyed: loue looketh to commaunde, not to be con­quered: Iuno stroue but once with Venus, and she was van­quished: Iupiter resisted Cupid, but he went by the worst, it is harde for thee with the Crabbe to swimme against the streame, or with the Salamander to striue against the fire, for in wrastling with a fresh wound, thou shalt but make the sore more daungerous. Can beautie fonde foole bee resisted, which makes the Gods to bow: Loue himselfe yeelded to the feature of Psyche, and thinkest thou thy fancie of greater force? yea but what fondnesse is that Arbasto to soothe thy selfe in thy folly. Thou didst come a Captaine, and wilt thou returne a captiue: thy intent was to conquer, not to be van­quished, to fight with the Launce, not to be foilde with loue, to vse thy speare, not thy pen, to challenge Mars, not to dallie with Venus. Howe doost thou thinke to subdue Fraunce, which canst not rule thine owne affections: Art thou able to quaile a kingdome, which canst not quell thine owne mind? no, it will be hard for thée to goe in triumph, which art not so much as Lord of thy selfe. But Arbasto, if thou wilt needes loue, vse it as a toye to passe away the time, which y^u maist take vppe at thy lust, and lay downe at thine own pleasure. Loue, why Arbasto, dost thou dreame, whom shouldest thou loue? Doralicia? what thy foe, one that wisheth thy mishap, and partly prayeth to the Gods, for thy mis-fortune, no sure thou art not so fond.

And with that, as I vttered these words, such thoughts, such sighes, such sobs, such teares assailed mee, as I was stri­ken dumbe with y^e extremitie of these hellish passions, scarce [Page] being able to draw my breath for a good space, til at last re­couering my sences, I fel to my former sorrow in this sort.

Yes alas Arbasto, it is the lucklesse loue of Doralicia, and therefore the more lucklesse because thou loouest Doralicia, that hath thus inchaunted thy affections. Shée is not thy friend whom thou maist hope to get, but thy foe, whom thou art sure not to gaine: for dost thou think she wil requite thy merit with méed, or repay thy loue with liking? no, she ha­teth thée Arbasto, as sworne Pelorus foe, and her enemie. Can she loue thée which séekest her fathers life: nay, did she loue, yet could she think thou dost like, which layest siege to her Cittie: no, vnlesse by loue shee were blinded with too much looue. Sith then to fancie thy foe, is with the Cock­atrice to peck against the stéele, subdue thy affections, bee maister of thy mind, vse will as thy subiect, not as thy soue­raigne, so maist thou triumph and laugh at Cupid, saying: Fonde boy I was in loue, what then.

I had no sooner sealed vp these secrete meditations with a sorowfull sigh, but least being solitarie I shold fal into far­ther dumps, I went out of my Tent to passe away the time with some pleasant parle, thinking this the fittest means to driue away idle fancies, hoping that hote loue wold be soone cold, that the greatest bauin was but a blaze, and that the most violent storme was euer least permanent.

Wel, to sée how Loue and Fortune can play false when they list, I was not so drowned in desires towards Dorali­cia, as pore Myrania burned with affection towards me. For Venus willing to shew she was a woman by her wilful con­trarieties so fiered her fancies with y^e forme of my feature, as the poore Lady was perplered with a thousande sundrie passions, one while shee sought with hate to rase out loue, but that was with the Déere to féede against the wind: an­other while shee deuised which way to obtaine her desire: but then alas she heaped coales vpon her head, for she sawe no spark of hope to procure so good happe. Driuen thus into sundry dumpes, she fell at last into these termes.

[Page]Alas Myrania (ꝙ she) happy, yea thrice happie are those maides which are borne in the Ile Meroe, which in their virginity are suffered to sée none but him whom they shall marry, and béeing wiues are forbidden by the Law to sée any man but their husbande, vntill they be past fifty. In this Country Myrania beauty is vsed as a naturall gift, not hono­red as a supernaturall God, and they loue onely one, because loue cannot force them to like any other: so that they sowe their loue in ioy, and reape it in pleasure. Would God thou hadst béen borne in this soile, or brought vp in the same sort so shouldest thou haue triumphed ouer beautie as a slaue, which now leadeth thée as a seruile captiue.

O infortunate Myrania, and therefore infortunate because Myrania, hast thou so little force to withstand fancie, as at the first alarum thou must yéeld to affection: canst thou not looke with Salmacis, but thou must looue: canst thou not sée with Smylax but thou must sigh: canst thou not viewe Narcissus with Eccho, but thou must be vowed to his beautie. Learne learne fond foole by others mishaps to beware: for shee that loueth in hast, oft times, nay alwaies repenteth at leysure. The Hippians anointing themselues with the fat of y^e Fish Mugra, passe through most furious flames without any per­rill. The people called Psilli, as long as the sacrifice vnto Ve­sta, can be hurt with no venimous Serpents. Telephus as he wore the counterfeit of Pallas shielde, was inuulnerable, and thou as long as thy minde is fraughte with the chaste thoughts of Diana, canst neuer be fired with the haples flame of Venus: arme thy selfe with reason, and thou mayst passe through Cytheria without daunger: let thy will and wit be directed with aduised counsaile, and thou maist say: Cupid, I defie thée.

Ah Myrania, things are soone promised, but not so casilie performed: it is easie to sound the victory, but passing hard to obtaine the conquest: all can say, I would ouercome, but few or none returne with triumph. Beauty is therfore to be obei­ed, because it is beautie, and loue to be feared of men, because [Page] honored of the Gods. Dare reason abide the brunte, when beautie bids the battell: can wisedome win the fielde when loue is Captaine. No, no, loue is without law, and therefore aboue all lawe, honored in heauen, feared in earth, and a very terror to the infernall Ghostes.

Bow then vnto that Myrania, wherunto lawlesse neces­sitie doth bend, be not so fond as with Xerxes to bind the O­cian Sea in fetters: fight not with the Rascians against the winde: seeke not with them of Scyrus to shoote against the stars: contende not with Niobe against Latona, nor striue not with Sapho against Venus, for loue being a Lord, lookes to commaund by power, and to be obeyed by force.

Trueth Myrania, but what then, to loue is easie, and per­haps good, but to like well is hard & a doubtfull chance: fancie thy fil (fond foole) so thou bend not thy affection to thy fathers foe: for to loue him who séekes his life, is to war against na­ture and Fortune. Is there none woorthy to be thy pheere but Arbasto, the cursed enemie to thy Countrey? can none win thy good will but the bloodie wretch, who séeketh to bréed thy fathers bane? can the Eagle & the bird Osiphage builde in one trée? will the faulcon and the doue couet to sit on one pearch: will the Ape & the Beare be tied in one tedder, will the foxe and the lambe lie in one den: no they want reason, and yet nature suffers them not to liue against nature: wilt thou then be so wilfull or witles, as hauing reason to guide nature: yet to be more vnnaturall then vnreasonable crea­tures, be sure if thou fal in this thou striuest against y^e gods, and in striuing with them looke for a most sharpe reuenge.

Tush I know this, but hath not loue set down his sentence, and shal I appeale frō his censure: shall I deny that which the destenies haue decréed: no, for though Cydippa rebelled for a time, yet she was forst at last to make sute to Venus for a pardon, & I may séek to hate Arbasto, but neuer find where to begin to mislike him. And with that, such fiery passions op­pressed her, as shee was faine to sende foorth scalding sighes somewhat to ease her inflamed fancie, which being sorowful­lie [Page] sobbed forth, she had begun a fresh to poure forth her pit­tiful complaints, if her sister Doralicia beeing accompanied with other Gentlewomen had not driuen her out of these dumps, whom shee no sooner spied, but leauing her passions, she waxed plesant, couering care with conceits, and a mour­ning hart with a merry coūtenance, least her sorowful lookes might giue the company occasion to coniecture somwhat was amisse. But I alas which felt the furious flames of fancie to broile incessantly within my brest, could not so cunningly dis­semble my passions, but al my Péeres saw I was perplexed: for wheras before this sudden chaunce, Pelorus mis-fortune procured my mirth, now the foile which I reaped by affection draue me to a déeper misery. In the day (to the increasing of my care) I spent the time in sollitarie dumpes, in the night affected thoughts and visions suffered mee scarce to slumber: for alas there is no greater enemy to the mind, than in loue to liue without hope, which doubt was the sum of my endles sorrow, that in séeing my selfe fettered, I could sée no hope at all of my fréedom: yet to mittigate my misery, I thought to walke from the Campe towarde the Cittie, that I might at the least féede my eye with the sight of the place wherein the Mistresse of my hart was harboured, taking with me onelie for companie a Duke of my Countrey called Egerio, vnto whom I durst best commit my secrete affaires, who noting my vnaccustomed passions, coniecturing the cause of my care by the outward effects, coueting carefully to apply a salue to my sore, and to driue me from such drowsie thoughts, wake­ned me from my dumps with this pleasant deuise.

Sir, quoth he, I haue often meruailed, & yet cannot cease to muse at the madnes of those men, whom the common peo­ple thinke to honour with the glorious title of louers, who whē rashly they purchase their own mishap in placing their affection, where either their disabilitie or the destinies denie successe to their suites, doe either passe their daies in endles dolor, or preuēt misery by vntimely death. If these passionate [Page] patients listned a litle to Venus allurments, as I to Cupids flatteries, few men shold haue cause to call the Gods vniust, or women cruell: for I think of loue as Mylciades the Athe­nian did, who was wont to say, that of all the plagues wher­with the Gods did afflict mortal men, loue was the greatest, in that they sought that as an heauenly blisse, which at last they found their fatall bane.

Hearing Egerio thus cunningly and couertly to touch me at the quick, thought to dally with him in this wise.

Why Egerio (ꝙ I) dost thou count it a madnes to looue, or dost thou thinke him rashe which yéeldeth vnto affection: knowest thou not that loue is diuine, and therefore comman­deth by power, and that hee enioyneth by destiny and cannot be resisted. I am not of that mind with Mylciades, that loue is a plague, but rather I thinke hee is fauoured of the gods that is a happy louer.

Truth (ꝙ he) but who is happie in loue? he that hath the happiest successe? no: for I count him most vnhappy which in loue is most happy.

Why then Egerio (ꝙ I) thou thinkest him vnhappy in that he loueth.

Or els may it please your highnes, quoth hee, I shoulde think amisse: for shall I count him fortunate which for one dram of prosperity reapeth a whole pound of misery? or shal I estéeme that louer happy, whose greatest gaine is but gol­den griefe: nay that is neuer to be called pleasure, which is sauced with paine, nor that good luck whose guerdon is losse.

Sith Egerio (ꝙ I) thou doost thus broadly blaspheme a­gainst Cupid, tell me why thou thinkest ill of loue.

Because sir, quoth he, it is loue, being such a frantick fren­zie which so infecteth the mindes of men, as vnder the taste of Nectar, they are poysoned with the water of Stix, for as he which was charmed by Lara sought still to heare her en­chantment, or as the Déere after once he brouseth on y^e Ta­mariske trée, will not bee driuen away till hee dieth: so our amorous louers haue their sencelesse sences so besotted with [Page] the power of this lasciuious God, that they count not them­selus happy but in their supposed vnhappines, being at most ease in disquiet, at greatest rest when they are most trobled, séeking contentation in care, delight in misery, and hunting gréedily after that which alwaies bringeth endlesse harme.

This is but your sentence Egerio (quoth I) but what rea­sons haue you to confirme your censure?

Such (quoth he) as your highnes can neither mislike nor infringe: for the first step to looue is the losse of libertie, ty­ing the mind to the will of her, who either too curious, little respecteth his sute, or too coy smally regardeth his seruice, yet he is so blinded with the vale of fond affection, that he coun­teth her sullennes sobernes, her vain charines vertuous cha­stitie: if she be wanton he counteth her wittie, if too familar curteous, so besotted with the drugs of doting loue, that eue­rie fault is a vertue, and though euery string be out of tune, yet the Musick cannot sound amisse: resembling Tamantus the Painter, who shadowed the worst pictures with the fre­shest colours.

The paines that Louers take for hunting after losse, if their mindes were not charmed with some secret enchaunt­ment, were able either to kéepe their fancies from being in­flamed, or els to coole desire being alreadie kindled: for the dayes are spent in thoughts, the nights in dreames, both in danger, either beguiling vs of that we had, or promising vs that wee haue not. The heade fraught with fancies, fiered with iealousie, troubled with both: yea so manie inconueni­ences waite vpon loue, as to reckon them all were infinite, and to taste but one of them intollerable, being alwayes be­gun with griefe, continued with sorow, & ended with death: for it is a paine shadowed with pleasure, and a ioy stuffed with miserie: so that I conclude, that as none euer sawe the Altars of Basyris without sorrow, nor banqueted with Pho­lus without surfeiting: so as impossible it is to deale with Cupid & not gaine either spéedy death or endlesse danger.

As I was ready to reply to Egerios reasons, drawing to a [Page] small thicket of trees, which was hard adioining to the Cit­tie, I spied where some of the French dames were friendlie sitting about a cléere fountaine, of whom after I had taken a narrow viewe, easily perceiued they were thrée Ladies (ac­companied with one Page) namely Myrania, Doralicia, and their Nurse called Madam Vecchia, which sudden sight so appalled my sences, as I had béen appointed a new Iudge to the thrée goddesses in the valley of Ida: yet seeing before my eyes the Mistresse of my thoughts, and the Saint vnto whō I did owe my deuotion, I began to take hart at grace, think­ing that by this fit opportunitie, loue and Fortune began to fauour my enterprise, willing therefore not to let slippe so good an occasion, I boldly paced to them, whom I saluted in this sort.

Faire Ladies (ꝙ I) the sight of your surpassing beautie so dazeled mine eyes, as at the first I was in doubt, whether I should honor you as heauenly Nimphes, or salute you as earthly creatures: but as I was in this dumpe, I readilie called to mind the figure of your diuine face, which béeing at my comming to your fathers Court, by some secret influence most surely imprinted in my fancie, I haue hetherto without any sparke of forgetfulnes perfectly retained, féeling euer since in my hart, such strange passions, an vnaccustomed de­uotion to your beautie and vertues, as I woulde thinke the Gods and Fortune did fauour mee, if either I might find oc­casion to manifest my affection, or liue to doo you seruice.

Doralicia hearing mee thus strangely to salute her, al­though she saw her selfe in the handes of her fathers foe: yet as nothing dismaied, with a coy countenaunce, shee gaue mee this crabbish answer.

Sir, quoth she, if at the first looke ye tooke vs for Nimphes by the perfection of our diuine beautie, it séemeth vnto vs that eyther your women in Denmarke are very fowle; or your sight sore blemisht since your comming into Fraunce: for we know our imperfections far vnworthy of such dissem­bled praise. But Diomedes smiled most when hee pretended [Page] greatest mischiefe: Scyron entertained his guestes best, whē he ment to intreat thē worst: Lycaon feasted Iupiter when hee sought to betray him: the Hiena euer fauneth at her pray: the Syrens sing when they meane to enchant: Circes is most pleasant, when she presenteth poison: and so you, in praising our beauty séeke to spoile our blood: in extolling our perfection, to make vs most imperfect, in wishing openlie our weale, secretly to worke our death and destruction. For your seruice you offer vs, we so much the more mislike it, for hys sake that makes the proffer: for we are not so inueigled with selfe loue, nor so senceles to conceiue, but that wee thinke he little fauoureth the stems that cutteth down the old stock, he little respecteth the twig that tendereth not the roote, and he lightly loueth the child, that deadly hateth the father, Polix­ena counted Achilles a flatterer, because he continued y^e siege against Troy. Cressid therfore forsooke Troylus, because hee warred against the Grecians, and we cannot count him our priuie fréende which is our open foe.

Why Madame (ꝙ I) did not Tarpeia fauour Tantius, though a foe vnto Rome: did not Scylla respect Mynos thogh he besieged Nisus?

Truth sir, (ꝙ Myrania) but the gaines they got was perpetuall shame and endles discredit, for the one was slain [...] by the Sabynes, the other reiected by Mynos. The young Faunes cannot abide to looke on the Tyger: the Halciones are no sooner hatched, but they hate the Eagle. Andromache woulde neuer trust the faire spéeches of Pyrrhus, nor Dydo laughe when shee sawe Hierbas smile: where the partie is knowen for a professed foe, there suspicious hate ensueth of course: and fond were that person that would thinke wel of him that proffereth poyson though in a golden pot.

Madame, quoth I, I know it is hard where mistrust is harboured to infer beleefe, or to procure credite where hys trueth is called in question: but I wish no better successe to happen to my selfe, than in hart I do imagin to you al, swea­ring by the gods that I do honor your beauties and vertues [Page] so much, that if I had woon the conquest, and you were my captiues, yet I woulde honor you as my soueraignes, and o­bey you as a louing subiect.

But I pray God, quoth Madame Vechia, you haue neuer occasion to shew vs such fauour, nor we cause to stand to your courtesie: for I doubt wee shoulde finde your glowing heate turned to a chilling colde, and your great promises to small performance.

In the meane time (and with that she tooke Myrania and Doralicia by the handes) we wil leaue you to returne to the Campe, and we will repaire to the Cittie, willing to giue you thanks for your good will, when we finde you a friende, and not before.

Nay Madame, quoth I, not so, for construe of my mea­ning how you please, or accept of my companie how you list, I wil not be so discourteous to leaue you so slenderly guided, as in the guarde of this little Page. And with that, taking Doralicia by the hand, willing not to let slip so fit opportuni­tie, I began to court her on this manner.

The choyse is harde Madame Doralicia (quoth I) where the party is compelled either by silence to die with griefe, or by vnfolding his mind, to liue with shame, yet so swéet is the desire of life, and so bitter the passions of loue, that I am en­forced to preferre an vnséemelie sute before an vntimelie death. Loth I am to speake, and in despaire I am to spéede: in the one shewing my selfe a coward, in the other weighing myne owne case. For considering what loue is, I fainte, and thinking how I am counted a foe, I feare. But sith where loue commandeth, there it is folly to resist, so it is Madame, that intending to be victor, I am become a vassale, comming to conquer, I am caught a captiue, seeking to bring other in­to thrall, alas I haue lost mine owne libertie. Your heauen­ly beautie hath brought me into bondage, your exquisite per­fection hath snared my fréedome, your vertuous qualities hath subdued my mind, as onely your curtesie may free mee from care, or your crueltie crosse mee with calamitie. To [Page] recount the sorrowes I haue sustained since I first was in­ [...]eigled with thy beautie, or the seruice I haue vowed vnto thy vertue, since thou dost count my talke, though neuer so true, but méere toyes, were rather to bréede in thee an admi­ration then a beliefe. But this I added for the time, which the end shall try for a trueth, that so faithfull is my affection, and so loyall is my looue, that if thou take not pittie of my passions, eyther my life shall be too short, or my miserie too long.

Doralicia hearing attentiuely my talk, oft times chaun­ged colour, as one in great choller, being so inflamed with a melancholike kind of hate, as shee was not of a long time a­ble to vtter one word, yet at last with a face full of fury, shee burst foorth into these despightfull termes.

Why Arbasto (ꝙ she) art thou of late become frantick, or doost thou thinke mee in a frenzie: hast thou béene bytten with the Serpent Amphisbena which procureth madnesse, or doost thou suppose me fraught with some lunatick fits, for thy speech makes mee thinke, either thou art troubled with the one, or that thou countes me combred with the other: if this thy poisoned parle were in iest, it was too broade wey­ing the case, if in earnest, too bad considering the person: for to talke of peace amidst the pikes, sheweth either a cowarde or a counterfeit: and to sue for loue by hate, either frenzie or follie. It is a mad Hare Arbasto that will be caught with a Taber, a gréedy fishe that commeth to a bare hooke, a blinde Goose that runneth to the Foxes sermon, and shee a louing foole that stoopeth to her enemies lure. No no, think me not so fond, or at least hope not to find me so foolish, as with Phry­ne to fancie Cecrops, with Harpalice to like Archemerus, with Scilla to loue Mynos, with carelesse Minions so far to forget my honor, my honestie, my parents, and my Country, as to loue, nay not deadlie to hate him which is a foe to the least of these: for experience teacheth me, that the fairer the stone is in the Toades heade, the more pestilent is the poy­son in her bowels, the brighter the Serpents scales bee, the [Page] more infectious is her breath, and the talke of an enemy, the more it is seasoned with delight, the more it sauoureth of de­spight, cease then to séeke for loue, where thou shalt finde no­thing but hate, for assure thy selfe, if thou didst fancie as faith­fully, as thou dost flatter falsely, yet the guerdon for thy looue should be only this, that I will pray incessantly to the Gods, in thy life to pesture thée with earthly torments, and after death, to plague thee with hellish tortures.

Although these bitter blastes of Doralicia, had beene a sufficient cooling carde to quench fonde affection, yet as the water causeth the seacoale to burne more freshlie, so her de­spightfull termes far more inflamed my desire, that I made her this friendly replie.

Alas (Madame) weigh my case with equitie: if you hate me, as I am foe to Pelorus, yet fauour me as I am a friend to Doralicia. If you lothe me as a conquerer of your Coun­trey, yet pittie me as I am a captiue to your beautie. If you vouchsafe not to listen to the lure of your enemie, yet heare the passionate complaints of a perplexed louer, who leading others in triumph, yet he himselfe liueth in most haples ser­uitude.

If I haue doone amisse Doralicia, I will make amendes: if I haue committed a fault, I will bothe requite it and re­compence it: as I haue beene thy fathers foe, so I will bee his faithfull friend, as I haue sought his bale, I will procure his blisse: yea, I will goe against the haire in all thinges, so I may please thée in any thing.

But as I was about to make a longer discourse, she cutte me off in this wise.

In faith sir, quoth shee, so well doe I like you, that you can not more displease me, than in séeking to please mee: for if I knew no other cause to hate thée, yet this would suffise, that I cannot but dislike thée: be therfore my fathers friend or his foe, like him or hate him, yet this assure thy selfe that I will neuer loue thée. And with that she floong from mee in a great chafe. Replie I could not: for by this we were come [Page] to the gates of the Cittie, where (though vnwilling) I tooke my leaue of them in this sort.

I am sorrie Ladies that such is my luck, and so vnhappie is my lotte, that in offering my selfe a companion, I haue greatly offended you with my companie: yet sith I cannot striue against chance, I think my selfe happy that Fortune hath honoured me with the fruition of your presence, hoping when time shall trie my words no tales but trueth, you will at last make me amends with crying peccaui: in the meane while I commit you to the tuition of the Gods, praying For­tune rather to plague me with all mishap, then to crosse you with anie chip of mischance.

The thanks I had for this my friendly curtesie, was a coy disdainfull looke of Doralicia, and a churlish vale of the olde trot Vechia, but Myrania as one stoong with the pricke of fancie, bad me farewell, with a more curteous gloze.

If sir (quoth she) the secret intent of your friendship had beene agreeable to the outward manner of your curtesie, wée had without rubbing our memories ere this yéelded you great thanks for your companie: but sith you gréet vs with a Iudas kisse, we thinke wee haue small cause to gratifie you for your kindnes: notwithstanding, least you shold accuse vs wholie of discourtesie, we say we thank you, whatsoeuer wée think, and with that, she cast on me such a louing looke, as she seemed to play loth to depart. Well, they now returning to the Court, and I now retiring to the Campe, féeling my self déeply perplexed, yet as much as I could, dissembled my pas­sions, willing in loue not to be counted a louer, iesting there­fore with Egerio, I thus began to draw him on.

How now Egerio, (ꝙ I) hath not the beautie of these faire Ladies brought you from your fonde heresie: will you not be content for blaspheming of Looue, in pennaunce to carrie a burning Faggot before Cupid? me thought your eyes were gazing, wheresoeuer your hart was gadding: but tell mee in good troth, is not Doralicia worthy to be lo­ued?

[Page]Yes sir, quoth he, if shee were not Doralicia, for as shee is beautifull, shee is to bee liked of all, but as shee is Pelorus daughter, not to be desired of Arbasto, least in séeking to gain her loue, he get that which he least looketh for.

Why Egerio, quoth I, what ill lucke can ensue of loue, when I meane not to venture but vppon trust, nor to trust without triall.

Such (quoth hee) as happened to Achilles by Polexena, and yet he feared Priamus. But alas sir, I sigh to think, and I sorrow to sée that reason should yéeld to affection, liberty to loue, fréedome to fancie, that Venus should beare the target, and Mars the distaffe: that Omphale shoulde handle y^e club, and Hercules the spindle: that Alexander shoulde crouch, and Campaspe be coy: that a warlike mind should yeelde to a little wauering beautie, and that a Prince whose prowesse could not be subdued, shoulde by loue become subiect at the first shot.

What Egerio, quoth I, knowest thou not that hee whem no mortall creature can controule, loue can commaund, that no dignitie is able to resist Cupids deitie: Achilles was in­vulnerable, yet wounded by fancie: Hercules not to be con­quered of anie, yet quicklie vanquished by affection: Mars a­ble to resist Iupiter, but not to withstande beautie. Looue is not onely kindled in the eye by desire, but ingrauen in the mind by destenie, which neither reason can eschew, nor wis­dome expell.

The more pittie (quoth hee) for poore men, and the grea­ter impietie in the gods, that in giuing loue frée libertie, they graunted him a lawlesse priuiledge. But sith Cupid will be obeyed, Arbasto is willing to be obedient, woulde God loue had either aimed amisse, or els had not made Doralicia the marte.

I not vnwilling that Egerio shoulde be priuie to my passi­ons, tolde him that what I spoke was in iest, and that if e­uer I did fancie, as yet I knew not what it meant: I would vse loue as the Persians did the Sunne, who in the morning [Page] honor it as a God, and at noone-tide curse it as a deuill. Con­cealing thus my care, the couered sparks burst into greate flames, that comming to my Tent, I was forst to cast my selfe vppon my bedde, where I sobbed foorth sorrowfullie these wordes.

Alas Arbasto, how art thou perplexed, thou both liuest in ill hap, and louest without hope: thou burnest in desire, and art cooled with disdaine: thou art bidden to the feast by loue, and art beaten with the spit by beautie. But what then, dost thou count it care which thou sufferest for Doralicia, who shameth Venus for her hue, and staineth Diana for her cha­stitie. Yea but Arbasto, the more beautie she hath, the more pride, and the more vertue, the more precisenesse. None must play on Mercuries pipe, but Orpheus: none rule Lucifer, but Phoebus: none were Venus in a tablet but Alexander, nor none enioy Doralicia, but such an one as farre exceedeth thee in person and parentage: thou seest she hath denied thy sute, disdained thy seruice, lightly respected thy loue, & smally regarded thy liking, onely promising this, while she liues to be thy professed foe. And what then fonde foole, wilt thou shrinke for an Aprill shoure? knowest thou not that a deni­all at the first is a graunt, and a gentle answere a flattering flo [...]e: that the more they seeme at the first to loathe, the more they loue at the last. Is not Venus painted catching at the ball with her handes, which shee seemeth to spurue at with her feete? Doth not the Mirre tree being hewen, yéeld no sap, which not moo [...]ed, poureth foorth sirop: and women beeing woed, denie that, which of themselues they most ear­nestlie desire.

The stone Sandrasta is not so hard, but béeing heate in the fire, it may be wrought: no Iuory so tough, but seasoned with Sutho, it may be ingrauē, no hawke so haggard, which in time may not be called to the lure: nor no woman so wil­ful, which by some meanes may not bee won. Hope the best then and be bold, for Loue and Fortune careth not for cow­ardes.

[Page]Nay tush Arbasto, what needest thou pine thus in hap­lesse passions, or séeke for that with sorrow, which thou maist obtaine with a small sute, raise vp thy siege, grant but condi­tions of peace, shew but a friendlie countenance to Pelorus, and he neither will nor dare denie thee his daughter Dora­licia. Doe this then Arbasto, nay I will doe it, and that with spéed, for now I agree to Tullie that it is good: Iniquissimam pacem iustissimo bello anteponere.

Well, being resolued vpon this point, I felt my minde disburthened of a thousand cares, wherewith before I was clogged, feeding my selfe with the hope of that pleasure, which when I enioyed sholde recompence my former paine.

But alas, poore Myrania coulde not feele one minute of such ease, for she vncessantly turned the stone with Sysiphus, rolled on the whéele with Ixion, and filled the bottomlesse tubs with Belydes, in so much, that when shee could finde no meanes to mittigate her maladie, shee fell into these bytter complaints.

Ah Myrania, ah wretched wench Myrania, how art thou without reason, which sufferest reason to yeelde vnto appe­tite, wisedome vnto sensuall wil, and a frée mind vnto seruile loue: but I perceiue when the Iuie riseth, it wreatheth a­bout the Elme: when the Hop groweth high, it hath need of a poale, and when virgins waxe in yeeres, they followe that which belongeth to their youth. Loue, loue, yea but they loue expecting some good hap, and alas both loue and liue without all hope, for Arbasto is my foe, and yet if he were my fréend, he liketh not mee, he looketh onelie vppon Doralicia. Sith then Myrania thou art pinched, and hast none to pittie thy passions, dissemble thy loue though it shorten thy life: for better it were to die with griefe, than liue with shame. The spunge is full of water, yet is not seene. The leafe of the trée Alpina though it be wet, looketh alwaies dry [...] and a wyse louer, be she neuer so much tormented, behaueth herselfe, as [Page] though shee were not touched. Yea, but fire cannot be hid­den in the Flaxe without smoake, nor Muske in the bosome without smell, nor looue in the breast without suspition. Why then seeke some meane to manifest thy looue to Ar­basto: for as the stone Draconites can by no meanes bee po­lished, vnlesse the Lapidarie burne it, so thy minde can by no medicine be cured, vnlesse Arbasto ease it: alas Arba­sto, sweete Arbasto. And with that she fetcht such a groa­ning sighe, that one of her Maydes came into the Chamber, who by her presence putting her from her passions, sate so long by, tyll tyred with drousie thoughts she fell into a slum­ber.

Fortune frowning thus vppon her (as I supposed) and fawning vpon me, I set my foote on the fairest sands, althogh at last I found thē most fickle, thinking I must needes tread the Mesures right, when Fortune piped the daunce, but though I threw at all, yet my chance was hard, for Pelorus trifling for truce, pretended treason: making a shew of fear, fought subtilly how to ouerthrow me by deceit, saying, that in ruling of Empires there is required as great pollicie as prowesse, in gouerning an estate, close crueltie dooth more good than open clemencie: for the obtayning of a kingdome, as well mischiefe as mercie is to be practised: that better he had commit an inconuenience in breaking his oth, than suf­fer a mischiefe by keeping his promise: setting downe the staffe therefore on this secure periurie, thus it fell out.

After two or thrée daies were passed, accompanied onely with Egerio, and a fewe of my guarde, I went to Orleance, determining both to conclude a peace, and to demaunde Do­ralicia in marriage: where no sooner I arriued, and was entered in at the gates of the Citty, but I found Pelorus and al his men in Armes, which sight so appalled my sences, that I stood as one trans-formed, fearing that which presentlie I found true: for Pelorus hauing his force inflamed with furi­ous choller, commaunded his Captaines to lay hold on me, and to carrie mee to close prison, swering that no lesse than [Page] the losse of life should mittigate his furie.

And raging in this choller, after he had lodged me vppe in Lymbo, he went with al his Armie to the Campe, wher fin­ding my soldiers secure, as men little doubting of such mys­fortune, he made such a monstrous and mercilesse slaughter, as of fiftie thousand he left fewe aliue, those which remained he plagued with al kind of slauerie, returning home with his shameles triumph, hee commaunded that in the mids of the Cittie there should be made a great scaffold, wherupon with­in ten daies I should be executed: these heauie and haplesse newes béeing come to myne eares, such sorrowfull passions perplexed my mind, as after floods of brinish teares, I burst forth into these bitter termes.

O infortunate Arbasto (quoth I) and therefore the more infortunate, because Arbasto, art thou not worthy of thys mishap, which wilfully sought thine owne miserie? canst thou accuse the Gods, which didst striue against the Gods? canst thou condemne Fortune, which hast warred against nature, and Fortune: No no, in suffering reason to yeeld vn­to appetite, wisedom vnto will, and wit vnto affection, thou hast procured thine owne death, and thy Souldiers destruc­tion. Loue, yea loue it is that hath procured thy losse, beau­tie that hath bred thy bale: fancie hath giuen thée the foyle, and thine owne witlesse wil that hath wrought thy woe: the more is thy paine, and the lesse thou art to bee pittied: was there none to like but Doralicia? none to choose but thy foe? none to loue but thine enemie? O vile wretch fraught with carelesse follie.

And with that, as I was readie to exclaime against my curssed destenie, I heard the pryson doore open, where I saw presently to enter Myrania, Doralicia, and Madam Vecchia, who séeing me sit in such sorrowfull dumpes, began to smyle at my dolor, and to laugh at my mishappe, which wilfullie thrust my selfe into such miserie, thinking therefore to agra­uate my griefe by rubbing a fresh my sore, Doralicia began [Page] to gall me on this sort.

Hearing Arbasto (quoth she) that you were come to pro­secute your sute, playing the good Captaine, that for the first foyle giueth not ouer the field, I thought good to giue you a smiling looke in recompence of your flattering loue, least if I should not be so curteous to so kind a Gentleman, the world should account me ingratefull.

It is truth sister (ꝙ Myrania) it séemes he is a passing a­morous louer: but it is pittie he hath verie ill luck: he choo­seth his chaffer well, but yet is an vnskilfull chapman, for if he buy at such an vnreasonable rate, he is like (sell howe hee can) to liue by the losse.

Tush (quoth Madam Vecchia) he playeth like the Dra­gon, who sucking bloode out of the Clephant, killeth him, and with the same poysoneth her selfe: so Arbasto séeking to be­tray others, is himselfe taken in the trap: a iust rewarde for so vniust dealing, and a fit reuenge for so rechles an enemie.

And yet (ꝙ Doralicia) his purpose hath taken small place: for whatsoeuer his mind was, his malice hath wāted might, wherin he resembleth the Serpent Porphirius, who is ful of poyson, but béeing toothlesse hurteth none but himselfe. Sure­lie whatsoeuer his chaunce be, hee hath made a verie good choice: for he preferreth swéete loue before bitter death, and the hope of euerlasting fame before the feare of momentarie mis-fortune: he shall now for his constancie be canonized in Denmark for a saint, and his subiects may boast & say, that Arbasto our King died for loue.

Egerio séeing that extremitie of griefe woulde not suffer me to vtter one worde, not able anie longer to abide these frumpes, crost her with this chollerick replie.

Gentlewoman (ꝙ he) although I so terme you, rather to shew mine own curtesie, than to decipher your conditions, it séemeth Nurture hath taught you very few manners, or na­ture affoorded very smal modestie, that séeing one in distresse, you should laugh at his dolor, and where the partie is crossed [Page] with mishap, you would with bitter tants increase his mise­rie: if he be your foe, he hath now the foile, he is taken in the snare, his life hangeth in the ballance.

Though your father be without pietie, yet in that you are a woman be not without pittie. Hate him if you please as hee is your enemie, but despise him not as he is Arbasto, a king, and your haples louer: we are captiues, not to a woor­thy conquerer, but to a wretched caitife: not vanquished by prowesse, but by periurie, not by fight, but by falshood: who in our liues to thy fathers losse, won continuall fame, and by our death to thy fathers discredite shall purchase vnto him perpetuall infamie.

Doralicia, not willing to suffer him wade anie further, cut him short in this manner.

Sir (quoth she) if bragges could stand for payment, I am sure you woulde not die in any mans debt: but if your pro­wesse had béene as good as your prattle, you needed not haue daunced within so short a tedder: crauen Cocks crowe low­dest: fearefull curs barke most, and a hartlesse cowarde hath alwaies more tongue than a hautie Captaine. But I heare with you, for I doubt the feare of death and danger hath dri­uen thy Maister into a cold palsey, and hath made thée either frantick, or lunatick, the one shewing his melancholie, the other bewraying thy choller, willing therefore as a friende you should passe ouer your passions with more patience, wee will leaue you as we found you, vnlesse you mean to be shri­uen, and then I will send you a ghostlie father.

Our confession good Mistresse (quoth Egerio), requires but a small shrift: for wee haue very little to say, but that Arba­sto repents that euer he loued such a peruerse Minion, and I that euer I trusted such a periured Traytor.

The Gentlewomen tooke this for a farewell, passing me­rilie to the Pallace, and leauing vs sitting sorowfully in the prison, bewayling our mishap with teares, and exclaiming a­gainst Fortune with bitter curses, what our cōplaints were, it little auaileth to rehearse: for it would but driue thée into [Page] dumpes, and redouble my dolour. Suffise this that we were so long tormented with care, that at last we were past cure, counting this our greatest calamity, that liuing, euery houre we looke to die.

Wel, as thus we were drowned in distresse: so poore My­rania had her minde doubtfullie perplexed. Nature claymed by due to haue the preheminence, and leue sought by force to winne the supremacie. Nature brought in Pelorus aged haires to make the challenge, and Loue presented Arbastoes sweete sweete face to be the Champion: tossed thus wyth two contrarie tempests, at last she began thus to plead with her passions.

Ah thrise infortunate Myrania, what strange fits be these that burne thee with heate, and yet thou shakest with colde? thy body in a shiuering sweat and in a flaming Ice, melting like waxe, and yet as hard as the Adamant: it is loue? then woulde it were death: for likelier it is thou shalt loose thy life than win thy loue.

Ah haplesse Arbasto, woulde to God thy vertues were lesse than thy beautie, or my vertues greater than my affec­tions: so should I either quickly frée my selfe from fancie, or be lesse subiect vnto follie.

But alas I féele in my mind fierce skirmishes betweene reason and appetite, loue & wisedome, danger and desire, the one perswaded her to hate Arbasto as a foe, the other con­strained him as friend: If I consent to the first, I ende my daies with death, if to the last, I shall leade my life with in­famie. What shall I then doe? Ah Myrania, either swallow the iuyce of Mandrake, which may cast thée into a dead sléep, or chewe the herbe Carysium, which may cause thée to hate euery thing, so either shalt thou die in thy slumber, or dis­like Arbasto by thy potion.

Tush poore wench, what follies be these? wilt thou with the Wolfe barke at the Moone, or wyth the yong Gryphons pecke against the starres? Doest thou thinke to quench fire [Page] with a sword: or with affection to mortifie loue?

No no, if thou be wise, suffer not the grasse to be cut from vnder thy féete, strike while the yron is hote, make thy mar­ket while the chaffer is to sale.

Nowe Arbasto is thine owne, now thou maist win him by loue, and weare him by law: thou maist frée him from mise­rie without thy fathers mishappe: thou maiest saue his life without thy Fathers losse: thou maiest grant thy good wyll vnto loue, and yet not falsifie thy faith vnto nature.

Can Arbasto which is so curteous, become so cruell? but he wil requite thy loue with loyalty, thy faithful fancy with vnfained affection.

No no: he will and must looue thée of force, since thou hast graunted him his life of fréewill: hee will like thée in thyne youth, and honour thee in thine age: he will be the porte of prosperitie wherein thou maist rest, and the hauen of happi­nesse, wherein thou maist harbour without harme: so that thou maist say of him as Andromache said by Hector, Tu Do [...] minus, tu vir, tu mihi frater eris.

Yea but Myrania, yet looke before thou leape, and learn by other mens harmes to beware. Ariadne loued Theseus, fréed him from the monstrous Mynotaure, taught him to passe the Laborinth, yea forsooke Parents and Countrey for his cause, and yet the guerdon hee gaue her for her good will, was to leaue her a desolate wretche in a deserte wilder­nesse.

Medea saued Iason from the daunger of the Dragons, and yet she found him trothlesse: Phillis harboured Demiphoon, and Dido Aeneas, yet both repaied their loue with hate.

Tush the fairest floure hath not the best sent: the Lapida­ries choose not the stone by the outward colour, but by the secrete vertue: Paris was faire, yet false: Thiestes was beu­tiful, but deceitfull: Vulcan was carued in white Iuory, yet a Smith.

The precious stones of Mansaulous sepulcher coulde not make the dead careasse sweete. Beautie Myrania is not al­waies [Page] accompanied with vertue, honestie and constancy: but ofttimes fraught with vice, & periurie. What then? if some were Traytors, shall Arbasto be trothlesse? if some were false shal he be faithles: no, his beautie and vertue hath won me: and he himselfe shal weare me: I will forsake Father, friends and Countrey for his cause: yea I will venture lim and life to frée him from danger, in despight of froward For­tune and the destinies.

Myrania being thus resolute in her opinion, began to cast beyonde the Moone, and to frame a thousande deuises in her heade to bring her purpose to passe, fearing euery shaddowe, doubting euerie winde, stumbling at the least strawe, yet at the last pricked forward by fancie, she thought to preuent all cause of feare in this wise.

The euening before shee meant to atchiue her enterpryse, she secretly sent for the Iaylor by one of her maids, to whom she durst commit her secret affaires, who beeing taught by her Mistresse to play her part cunninglie, brought the Iaylor into Myranias chamber by a posterne gate, so that they were neither séene nor suspected of any: where he no sooner came, but he was curteously entertained of the yong Ladie, who faining that she had to debate with him of waighty affaires, called him into her closet, were treading vpon a false boorde, he fell vp to the shoulders, not béeing able to helpe himselfe, but that he there ended his life.

Myrania hauing desperatlie atchiued this déede, she straite sought not to rob him of his coyne, but to bereaue him of his keyes, which after she had gotten, and conueied his carcasse into a secret place, she went in her night gowne, accompani­ed onely with her Maid to the prison.

Arbasto and Egerio hearing the dores open at such an vn­accustomed houre, began straight to coniecture, that Pelorus sought to murther them secretly, least his owne people shold accuse him of crueltie: but as they looked to to haue séene the Iaylor, they spyed Myrania in her night gowne: which sud­daine [Page] and vnlooked for sight so appalled their sences, as they were driuen into a maze till Myrania wakened them from their dumpes with this sugred harmonie.

I perceiue Arbasto (quoth she) that my presence dooth make thee to muze, and my suddaine arriuall hath driuen thee into a maze what strange wind should land mee in thys coast. In truth thou maist think either my message is great, or my modestie little, either that I take small care of my selfe, or repose verie great trust in thee, who at a time vnfit for my calling, haue without any guarde come to a stranger, a captiue, yea and my fathers fatall foe. I confesse it is a fault if I were not forst: but sith necessitie hath no law, I thinke I haue the lesse broken the law. But to leaue off these need­lesse preamples where delay breedes no lesse daunger then death: know this Arbasto, that since thy first arriuall at my fathers Court my eyes haue béen so dazeled with the beams of thy beautie, and my minde so snared with the viewe of thy vertues, as thou onely art the man whō in hart I looue and like: seeing thée therefore drowned héere by aduerse fortune in most haplesse distresse, willing to manifest the loyaltie of my loue in effect, which I haue protested in wordes, I haue rather chosen to hazard both my life and honour, than not to offer thée peace if thou wilt agrée vnto the conditions. As my father hath wrought thy woe, I will work thy weale: as he hath sought thy bale, I will procure thy blisse: from penurie I will set thee in prosperitie. I will frée thee from prison, from daunger, yea from death it selfe, I will in yeelding to loue, dissent from nature to leaue my father, freendes, and Countrey, and passe with thee into Denmarke. And to cutte off spéeches, which might séeme to sauour either of flatterie or deceit: as thou art the first vnto whom I haue vowed my loue, so thou shalt be the last, requiring no méede for my me­rite, nor no other guerdon for my good wil, but that thou wilt take mée to thy Wife, and in pledge of my trueth, sée héere the keyes, and all other things prouided for our speedie pas­sage.

[Page] Myrania had no sooner vttered these words, but my minde was so rauished, as I was driuen into an extasie for ioy, see­ing that the terror of my death was taken away with the hope of life, that from heauines I shoulde bée restored to hap­pines, and from most carefull miserie, to most secure felicity, I therefore framed her this answer.

Ah Myrania, the purest Emeralde shineth brightest when it hath no Oyle, and trueth delighteth when it is ap­parrelled worst. Flatter I wil not, faithfull I must be, wil­led from the one by conscience, and driuen to the other by your curtesie, which by howe much the lesse I haue merited it by deserte, by so much the more I am bounde to requite it by duetie. To decipher in coloured discourses, and to painte out with curious shaddowes, howe humbly I accept of your offer, and howe greatlie I thinke my selfe beholding to the Gods, for blessing me with such an happie chaunce, what my loyaltia and truth shal be, were but to prooue that which your Ladiship hoping of my constancie hath not put in que­stion. The guerdon you craue for your good will is such, that if your curtesie had not forced me to it by constraint, yet your beautie and vertues are so great, as fancie woulde haue com­pelled mee by consent. Myrania, what thou canst wishe in a true and trusty Louer, I promise to performe, swearing vn­to thee, that the floodes shall flowe against their streames, the earth shall mount against his course, yea my carcasse shal be consumed vnto dust an ashes, before my minde shall bee found disloyall, and to this I call the Gods to witnesse, of whom I desire no longer to liue, than I meane simply to loue.

Oh Arbasto (quoth she) woulde God I had neuer seene thee, or that I may find thy works according to thy wordes, otherwise shall I haue cause to wishe I had been more cru­ell or lesse curteous. But loue will not let mee doubt the worst, but bids me hope the best: yet thus much I may say, when Iason was in danger, who more faithfull, when The­seus feared the Laborinth, who more loyall, when Demo­phon [Page] suffered shipwracke, who more louing: but I will not say what I thinke Arbasto, because thou shalt not suspect I feare.

Madame (ꝙ Egerio) Arbasto is my soueraigne, & I bothe honor and feare him as a subiect, yet if he shoulde but once in hart think to be disloyall to Myrania, the Gods confound mée with all earthly plagues, if I would not of a trustie Freend, become his mortall foe.

It is easie to perswade her Egerio (quoth she) who already is most willing to beléeue, let vs leaue therefore these neede­lesse protestations, and goe to the purpose, delay bréedes dan­ger, time tarrieth no man, speede in necessitie is the best spurre, let vs haste therefore till we gette forth of France, least if we be preuented, if breede my mishap and your fa­tall miserie.

Upon this we staied not, but shutting the pryson close, gotte couertlie out of the Cittie, passing through Fraunce with many fearefull perrils, which to rehearse, were either needlesse or bootlesse: suffise this, we at last happily arriued at Denmark, where how I was welcommed home with tri­umphes, were too long to relate. But how Pelorus was per­plexed after he knewe of our happy departure, though (God wot) most haples vnto him, I refer to thy good consideration to coniecture. The old father fretted not so fast in his melan­cholie, but Doralicia chafed as much in her choller, blasphe­ming bitterlie both against me and her sister Myrania: but as words breake no bones, so wee cared the lesse for her scol­ding, fearing not the noyse of the péece as long as wee were without daunger of the shot. Well, leauing them to theyr dumpes, to vs againe which floted in delight. Fickle For­tune hauing now hoysed vs vp to the toppe of her inconstant wheele, seeing howe careles I slumbered in the cradle of se­curitie, thought to make mee a verie mirrour of her muta­bilitie, for shee beganne a freshe to turne my typpet on this wise.

[Page]As dailie I flattered Myrania, for fancie her I could not, promising with spéed to call a parliament for the confirma­tion of the mariage, I still felt the stumpes of the olde loue I bare Doralicia to stick in my stomacke, the more closelie I couered the sparkes, the more the flame burst forth, I found absence to increase affection, not to decrease fancie: in the day my minde doted of her vertues, in the night I dreamed of her beautie: yea, Cupid began to encounter mee with so fresh canmizados, as by distance my distresse was far more augmented, such sighes, such sobs, such thoughts, such paines and passions perplexed mee, as I felt the last assault worse than the former batterie. If I loued Doralicia in Fraunce, I now liked her thrise better being in Denmark. If in pre­sence her person pleased mee, nowe in absence her perfection more contented mee. To conclude, I sware to my selfe with a sollemne sighe. Doralicia was, is, and shall be the Mistresse of my hart in despight of the froward destinies, yet amazed at mine owne follie, I began thus to muse with my selfe.

O foolish Arbasto, nay rather frantick fondling, hast thou lesse reason then vnreasonable creatures? the Tyger fléeth the traine, the Lyon escheweth the nettes, the Déere auoi­deth the coyles, because they are taken with these instru­ments, and art thou so mad, as hauing escaped pikes, wilful­lie to thrust thy selfe into perrill. The child being burnt ha­teth the fire, but thou béeing an old foole, wilt with y^e worme Naplitia no sooner come out of the coales, but thou wilt leape into the flame. But alas what then: I sée the measure of loue is to haue no mean, and the end to be euerlasting: that to loue is allotted to all, but to be happy in loue incident to fewe: why, shall I be so mad to loue Doralicia, or so fraught with ingratefull periurie, as not to like Myrania, the one hath crossed me with bitter, girds, the other courted me with sweet glaunces: Doralicia hath rewarded me with disdain, Myrania intreated me with desire, the one hath saued my life, the other sought my death. O Arbasto thou séest the best, [Page] but I feare like to follow the worst. Alas, I cannot but loue Doralicia, what then? what resteth for me to doe, but to die with patience, séeing I cannot liue with pleasure: yea Ar­basto, die die rather with a secret scar, than an open scorne, for thou maist well sue, but neuer shalt thou haue good suc­cesse. And yet Lyons fawne when they are clawed: the most cruell Tygers stoope when they are tickled: and Women though neuer so obstinate, yéeld whē they are courted. There is no Pearle so hard, but vinegar breaketh: no Diamonde so stonie, but blood molifieth, no hart so stiffe, but loue weake­neth: what though Doralicia sought thy death, perhaps now she repents, and wil giue thée life: though at the first she cast thée a stone, she will now throw thée an Apple. Why then Arbasto assault her once againe with a freshe charge, séeke to get that by Letters which thou couldest not gaine by talke, for one line is of more force to perswade, then a months par­le, for in writing, thou mayst so set downe thy passions, and her perfections, as she shall haue cause to thinke wel of thée, and better of her selfe, but yet so warilie, as it shall be harde for her to iudge whither thy loue bee more faithfull, or her beautie amiable. I haue thus determined with my selfe, though as couertlie as I could to conceale my affaires, least either Myrania or Egerio should spie my halting, conueying therfore my affaires as cunninglie as I could, I priuilie sent an Embassadour to Pelorus, to intreat for a contract betwéen vs, and also to craue his daughter Doralicia in mariage, pro­mising to send him Myrania safe vpon this consent, and with all, I framed a Letter to Doralicia to this effect.

As soone as I had written my Letter, I dispatcht the Messenger as spéedily and priuilie as might be, who within the space of thrée wéekes arriued at Orleance, where deliue­ring his Embassage to Pelorus, & my letter to Doralicia, hee staied for an answer the space of tenne daies, in which time, Pelorus consulting with his Counsell, was verie willing to [Page] graunt me his daughter in marriage, but that by no meanes he could win the good will of Doralicia, seeing therefore no perswasions coulde preuaile, hee dispatcht my Messenger with deniall, and Doralicia returned mée this frowarde an­swere.

[Page]After that the Messenger was returned to Denmarke, and that I had receiued and reade the Letter, such sundrie thoughts assailed me, that I became almost franticke: feare, dispaire, griefe, hate, choller, wrathe, desire of reuenge, and what not, so tormented my minde, that I fell to raging a­gainst the Gods, to rayling at Doralicia, and to cursing of all womankind, conceiuing such an extreame hate against her, as before I loued her not so hartilie, as nowe I loathed her hatefullie, counting my selfe an vngrate wretch towarde Myrania, and calling to mind her beautie & vertue, her boun­tie and curtesie, I fel more déeply in loue with her than euer with Doralicia, so that I coulde not spare one glaunce from gazing vpon her person, nor draw my minde from musing on her perfection. A suddaine change, but alas a sorrowfull chance.

For Myrania séeing me soused in these sorrowful dumps, began straight without casting anie water, to coniecture my disease, and to shoot at that which indeede she hytte without anie great ayme. But as loue is most suspicious, so she began to doubt the worst, fearing that as yet the beautie of Dora­licia was not blotted out of my minde, searching therfore na­rowly what she could eyther heare or learne of my secretes, at last she found out that which wrought her finall mishap, and my fatall miserie. For by lucklesse chaunce, leauing the doore of my closet open, Myrania thinking to finde me at my Muses, stumbled on the copie of my Letter, which I sent vnto Doralicia, and vpon the answer which I receiued from that ruthles Minion, which after shee had reade, perceiuing how traiterously I had requited her loue with hate, she con­ueied herselfe couertlie into her Chamber, where, after shee had almost dimmed her sight with floods of teares, and burst her hart with blowing sighes, she fel into these complaints.

O infortunate Myrania, O haples Myrania, yea, O thrise accursed Myrania, whom Fortune by spight séeketh to foyle, whom the destinies by fate are appointed to plague, & whom the Gods by iustice will & must most cruelly reuenge. Thou [Page] hast béen a paracide to thy father, in séeking to destroy him by thy disobedience: thou art a traytor to thy Country, in sa­uing the enemie of the Common welth, and thou art a foe to nature, in louing disloyall Arbasto: and can the Gods but plague these monstrous iniuries? no no Myrania, thou hast deserued more mishap then either Fortune can or wil affoord thée. Ah cruell and accursed Arbasto, I sée now that it fare [...]h with thée as with the Panther, which hauing made one a­stonished with his faire sight, seeketh to deu [...]ure him wyth bloodie pursute, and with me poore wench, as it dooth with them that view the Basiliske, whose eies procure delight to the looker at the first glimse, but death at the second glance. Alas, was there none to like but thy foe: none to looue but Arbasto: none to fancie but a periured Dame: none to match with but a flattering mate. Nowe hath thy lawlesse loue gained a lucklesse end: nowe thou tri [...]st by experience, that the trée Alpina is smooth to be touched, but bitter to bee tasted: that the fairest Serpent is most infectious, the finest colour soonest stained, the cléerest glasse most brittle, and that louers, though they beare a delicate shewe, yet they haue a deceitfull substance: that if they haue hony in their mouthes, yet they haue gall in their harts: the more is the pittie, in thee to trust without triall, and the greater impietie for him to be a traytor, beeing so well trusted.

Is this the curtesie of Denmark towardes friends, to in­treate them so despightfullie: is my good will not onelie re­iected without cause, but also disdained without colour: Alas what shall I doe to this extremitie, beeing a forlorne wretch in a forraine Country: which way shall I turne me, of whō shall I seeke remedie. Pelorus wil reiect me, and why shold he not: Arbasto hath reiected me, and why should hee? the one I haue offended with too much greefe, the other I haue serued with too great good will: the one is lost with loue, the other with hate: Pelorus, because I cared not for him: Ar­basto, because I cared for him but alas too much. And with that she fetcht such a sigh, as witnessed a hart pained wyth [Page] most intollerable passions, yea care and griefe so fiercely and freshly assaulted her, as she fell into a Feuer, refusing all su­stenance, wishing and calling for nothing but death.

While shee thus pined away with gréefe, I thought to search out her sore, but I could not perceiue the cause of her sorrow onely I did coniecture this, that she doubted my No­bles would not consent to our mariage: to rid her therefore of this care, I presently called a parliament, where without anie great controuersie it was concluded.

This newes being come to the eares of Myrania, it no whit decreased her dolor, but did rather farre the more aug­ment her distresse, which made Egerio to muse, & draue mee into a great maze: so that accompanied with my Nobles, I went to comfort her, & to carrie her newes, that if she coulde but come into the Chamber of presence, she should there bee crowned Quéene. But alas, when I came and sawe her so altered in one weeke, wasted to the hard bones, more like a ghost than a liuing creature, I began thus to comfort her.

Ah Myrania (ꝙ I) more loued of mee then myne owne life, and more déere vnto me than my selfe, woulde God I might be plag [...]ed with all earthly diseases, so I might see thée free from distresse: howe can Arbasto bee without sor­row to sée Myrania oppressed with sicknes? how can hee but sinke in calamitie to sée her but once toucht with care: alas vnfold vnto me thy sore, & I will apply the salue, make me priuie to thy maladie, & I will procure a medicine: If want of welth work thy woe, thou hast the kingdom of Denmarke to dispose at thy pleasure: if absence from fréends, thou hast such a fréende of thy louing spouse Arbasto, as death it selfe shall neuer dissolue our loue.

I had no sooner vttered this worde, but Myrania as one possessed with some hellish furie, start vp in her bed with sta­ring lookes and wrathfull countenaunce, séeming by her ra­ging gestures to bee in a frenzie: but béeing kept downe by her Ladies, she roared out these hatefull curses.

O vile wretches (ꝙ she) will you not suffer me in my life [Page] to reuenge my selfe on that periured Traytor Arbasto, yet shall you not denie me but after death my ghost shal tormēt him with gastlie visions. O thrise accursed caitife, doost thou seeme to helpe me with thy scabbard, and secretly hurte mee with thy sword: dost thou offer me hony openlie, and priui­lie present mee with gall: doost thou say thou wilt cure mee with loue, when thou séekest to kill mee with hate? haue I redeemed thée from mishap, and wilt thou requite me with miserie: was I the meanes to saue thy life, and wilt thou without cause procure my death: haue I forsaken my Coun­trey, betraied my father, and yet wilt thou kill me with dys­curtesie. O haples Myrania, coulde not Medeas mishap haue made thee beware: could not Ariadnes ill lucke haue taught thée to take heed, coulde not Phillis mis-fortune haue feared thee from the like folly: but thou must like and loue a strag­ling stranger. Aie me that repentance shoulde euer come too late: for now I sigh and sorrow, but had I wist comes out of time: follie is sooner remembred than redressed, and time may be repented, but not recalled.

But I sée it is a practise in men to haue as little care of their own othes, as of their Ladies honors, imitating Iupi­ter, who neuer kept othe he sware to Iuno, diddest thou not false Arbasto protest with sollemne vowes, when thy life did hang in the ballance, that thy loue to Myrania should bee alwaies loyall, and hast thou not since sent and su [...]d secretlie to win the good will of Doralicia, diddest thou not sweare to take mee to thy mate, and hast thou not since sought to con­tract with her a newe match: thou didst promise to bee true vnto me, but hast prooued trustie vnto her: what shoulde I say, thou hast presented her with pleasant drinks, and poy­soned me with bitter potions, the more is my penury, & the greater is thy periurie. But vile wretch, doost thou thinke this thy villanie shall be vnreuenged. No no Egerio, I hope the Gods haue appointed thée to reuenge my iniuries, thou hast sworne it, and I feare not but thou wilt performe it. And that thou maist know I exclaime not without cause, see [Page] heere the Letters which haue passed betwéen this false tray­tor and Doralicia.

The sight of these Letters so galled my guiltie conscience, as I stood as one astonished, not knowing what to do, excuse my selfe I could not, confirme my loue I durst not, yet at last the water standing in mine eyes, clasping her han [...]e in mine, I was readie to craue pardon, if she had not preuented me with these iniurious spéeches.

Cleere thy selfe trayterous Arbasto thou canst not, per­swade me thou shalt not, forgiue thée I will not, cease there­fore to speake, for in none of these thou shalt spéede. Egerio, I saued thy life, then reuenge my death, and so content I die, yet onelie discontent in this, that I cannot liue to hate Ar­basto so long as I loued him.

And with that turning vppon her left side, with a gasping sigh she gaue vp the ghost: which sight draue me into such a desperate minde, that if Egerio and the rest had not holden me, I had sent my soule with hers to the graue. But béeing carried by force to my bed, I lay for certaine daies oppressed with such sorrowe, as if I had béene in a trance, cursing and accusing my selfe of ingratitude, of periury, and of most de­spightfull disloyalty, I lay perplexed with incessant passions.

Well, this heauie and haplesse newes béeing noysed in France, Pelorus taking the death of his daughter to hart, in short time died, leauing Doralicia the onely inheritour of his kingdome.

But yet sée how Fortune framed vp this tragedie, who meant to cast Doralicia from most happie felicitie, to most haplesse miserie: for she séeing that no sinister chance coulde change my affection, that neither the length of time, nor the distance of place, the spight of Fortune, the feare of death, nor her most cruell discurtesie coulde diminish my loue: mu­sing I say on this my inuiolable constancie, Cupid meaning to reuenge, séeing her nowe at discouert, drewe home to the [Page] heade, and strooke her so déepe at the hart, as in despight of Vesta shee valed bonnet, and giuing grounde sobbed foorth secretly to herselfe these words: Alas I loue Arbasto, and none but Arbasto.

Venus séeing that her boy had so well plaide the man, be­gan to triumph ouer Doralicia, who now was in her dumps, striuing as yet betwéene loue and hate, till fancie sette in her foote, and then ye yéelded vp the bulwark in these peaceable termes.

Why how now Doralicia (quoth she) dost thou dreame or dote? Is it follie or frenzie: melanchollie or madnesse, that driueth thée thus into dumps, and so strangly distresseth thée with dolor, what fonde thoughts, what vnacquainted passi­ons: what slumbring imaginations are these which perplex­eth thée: dost thou now féele fire to spring out of the cold flint? heate to fry amids the chilling frost? loue to come from hate, and desire from disdaine? Doost thou fare as though thou hadst béen drenched in the Riuer Iellus in Phrigia? which at the first breedeth sorrow through extreame colde, but foorth­with burneth the sinewes through raging heat. Hath Venus nowe in despight of Vesta made thée vale bonnet: the more (poore wenche) is thy mishap, and the worse is thy fortune: for loue though neuer so swéet, cannot yet be digested with­out a most sharpe sauce: faring like the golde that is neuer perfect till it hath past through the furnace.

Loue Doralicia, but whom dost thou loue, Arbasto: what the man whom euen now thou diddest so deadlie hate? hast thou so little force ouer thy affections, as to fancy thy foe. No no fond foole, Arbasto is thy fréend, and one that honoureth thée as a Saint, and would serue thée as his soueraigne, that loueth and liketh thée as much as thou canst desire, but more than thou doost deserue, who beeing bitterly crossed with dis­curtesie, could neuer be touched of inconstancie: but still re­maineth like to Aristotles Quadratus, which howsoeuer it is turned, alwaies standeth stedfast. Thou canst not then of [Page] conscience Doralicia but repay his loue with liking, and hys firme fancie with mutuall affection: he is beautiful to please the eye, vertuous to content the minde, rich to maintaine thy honor, of birth to counteruaile thy parentage, wise, curteous, and constant, and what wouldest thou haue more.

Yea but alas I haue reiected his seruice, and nowe he will not respect my sute, I haue detested him, and nowe hee will despise me, I haue requited his good will with crueltie, and he will reuenge me with contempt.

Better hadst thou then conceale it with gréefe, than re­ueale it to thine owne shame: for if thou aime at the white and misse the marke, thou shalt bee pointed at of those that hate thée, pittred of those that looue thée, scorned of by him, and falked of by all: suffer rather thē (poore Doralicia) death by silence, than derision by reuealing thy secretes, for death cutteth of all care, but derision bréedeth endles calamitie.

Tush, dost thou think Arbasto can so harden his hart, as to hate thée, so maister his affections as to flée frō fancy, that hee will become so proud as to refuse thy proffer. No if thou sen­dest him but one line, it wil more charme him than al Circes inchantments: if thou lendest but one fréendly looke it will be more estéemed of him than life. Why, but Doralicia? and with that she sate stil as one in a trance, building Castles in the aire, hanging betwéen feare and hope, trust and dispaire, doubt & assurance: to rid her selfe therfore frō these dumps, she tooke her Lute, whereupon she plaied this dittie.

Doralicia hauing ended her dittie, laid down her Lute, and betooke her to her former passions, wherein shee had not long plodded, but shee determined to write vnto mée with as much spéed as might be, framing her Letters to this effect.

The Messenger by whom she sent this message, making spéede to performe his Mistresse commaunde, arriued within few dayes at Denmark, where deliuering me the Letter, I was greatly amazed at the sight thereof, musing what the contents should be, at last vnripping the seales, I perceiued to what Saint Doralicia bent her deuotion, but the showre came too late when the grasse was withered: yet I stood for a time astonished, houering betweene loue and hate. But at the last such lothsome misliking of her former curtesie so in­censed my mind, that to displease her, and to despight For­tune, I returned her spéedily this hateful answere.

Doralicia hauing receiued these Letters, and reade the contents, was so impatient in her passions, that shée fell into a frenzie, hauing nothing in her mouth but Arbasto, Arbasto, [Page] euer doubling this word with such pittifull cryes & scriches, as would haue mooued any but me to remorse: she continued not in this case long before shee died. But I alas leading a lothsome life, was more cruellie crossed by Fortune, for E­gerio, conspiring with the Péeres of my Realme, in shorte time by ciuill warres dispossessed me of my crown and king­dome. Forced then to flee by mine owne Subiects: after some trauaile I arriued at this place, where considering wyth my selfe the fickle inconstancie of vniust Fortune, I haue euer since liued content in this Cell to despight For­tune, one while sorrowing for the mishappe of Myrania, and another while ioying at the misery of Doralicia, but alwaies smiling, that by contemning Fortune, I learne to leade her in tryumph. Thus thou hast hearde why in meane estate I passe my dayes content: rest therefore satis [...]fied, that thus I haue liued, and thus I meane to die.