AMongſt all the paſſions wherewith humane minds are perplexed there is none that ſogalleth with reſtleſſe deſpight as that infectious ſore of iealouſie. For all other griefes are either to be appeaſed with ſenſible perſwaſion, to be cured with wholeſome counſell, to be relieued in w • nt or by tract of time to be worne out, Iealouſie only excepted which is ſauced with ſuſpitious doubts, and pinching miſtruſt, that who ſo ſéekes by friendly counſell to raze out this helliſh paſſion, it forthwith ſuſpecteth that he giueth this aduice to couer his owne gui • tines. Yea, who ſo is pinched with this reſtleſſe torment, doubteth all diſturbeth himſelfe is alwayes frozen with feare, & fired with ſuſpition, hauing that wherein conſiſteth all his ioy, to be the breeder of his miſery. Yea, it is ſuch an heauy enemy to that heauy eſtate of matrimony ſowing betweene the married couples ſuch deadly ſéeds of ſecret hatred, as loue being once razed o • t by ſpightfull diſtruſt, there often enſueth bloody reuenge, as this enſuing Hiſtory manifeſtly proueth wherein Pandoſto (furiouſly incenſed by a cauſeles iealouſie) procured the death of his moſt louing and loyall wife, and his owne endleſſe ſorrow and miſery.

IN the Country of Bohemia, there raigned a King called Pandoſto, whoſe fortunate ſucceſſe in Warrs againſt his foes, and bountifull courteſie towards his friends in Peace, made him to be greatly feared and loued of all men. This Pandoſto had to wiſe a Lady called Bellaria, by birth, Royall, learned by education, faire by nature, by vertues famous: ſo that it was hard to iudge, whether her beauty, fortune, or vertue, w • n ſhe greateſt commendations. Theſe two linked together in perfect loue, led their liues with ſuch fortunate content, that their ſubiects greatly reioyced to ſée their quiet diſpoſition. They had not béen married long, but fortune (willing to increaſe their happineſſe) lent them a Sonne, ſo adorned with the gifts of Nature, as the perfection of the Child greatly augmented the loue of the Parents, and the ioy of their Commons: in ſo much, that the Bohemians, to ſhew their inward ioyes by outward actions, made Bone-fires and Triumphes thorowout all the Kingdome, appoynting Iuſts and Turneis, for the honour of their young Prince: whether reſorted not onely his Nobles, but alſo diuers Kings and Princes, which were his neighbours willing to ſhew in their friendſhip they ought to Pandoſto, and to win fame & glory by their proweſſe & valour. Pandoſto whoſe mind was fraught with Princely liberality entertained the Kings, Princes, and Noble-men with ſuch ſubmiſſe courteſie, and magnificall bounty, that they all ſaw how willing hée was to grat • fie their good wills, making a generall feaſt for all his Subiects, which continued by the ſpace of twenty dayes; all which time the Iuſts and Turneis were kept, to the great content both of the Lords and Ladies there preſent▪ This ſolemne Triumph being once ended, the aſſembly taking their leaue of Pandoſto and Bellaria, the young Son (who was called Carinter) was n • rſed vp in the houſe, to the great ioy and content of their Parents. Fortune enuious of ſuch happy ſucceſſe, willin • to ſhew ſome ſigne of her inconſtancy, turned her whéele and darkned their bright Sunne of proſperity, with the miſty clouds of miſhap and miſery. For ſo it hapned▪ that Egiſtus King of Sicila, who in his youth had béen drought vp with Pandoſto, deſirous to ſhew, that neither tract of time▪ or diſtance of place could diminiſh their former friendſhip, prouided a Nauie of ſhips, and ſailed into Bohemia to visit his old friend and companion: who hearing of his arriuall, went himſelfe in perſon and his wife Bellaria accompanied with a great t • aine of Lords & Ladies, to meét Egiſtus & eſ • ying him, alighted from his horſe, embraced him very louingly proteſting, that nothing in the world could haue hapned more acceptable for him then his comming, wishing his wife to welcome his old friend and acquaintance; who to ſhew how ſhe liked him whom her husband loued) entertained him with ſuch familiar curteſie, as Egiſtus perceiued himſelfe to be very well welcome. After they had thus ſaluted and embraced each other they mounted againe on Horſebacke; and rode toward • the City deuiſing and recounting how being children, they had paſſed their youth in friendly paſtimes: where, by the meanes of the Citizens, Egiſtus was receiued with triumphs and ſhewes, in ſuch ſort that he maruelled how on ſo ſmall a warning they rould make ſuch proparation. Paſſing the Stréets thus with ſuch rare ſights, they rode on to the Palace▪ where Pandoſto entertained Egiſtus and his Sicilians, with ſuch b • nque • ing and ſumptuous chéere ſo royally, as they had all cauſe to commend his princely liberality: yea▪ the very baſeſt flaue that was knowne to come from Sicilia, was vſed with much curteſie, that Egiſtus might eaſily pereiue, how both he and his were honoured for his friends ſake. Bellaria (who in her time was the flowre of courtesie) willing to ſhew how vnfainedly ſhe loued her husband by her friends entertainemet vſed him like wiſe ſo familiarly that her countenance bewraied how her heart was affected toward him▪ oftentimes comming her ſelfe into his bed chamber to ſée if nothing ſhould be amiſſe to diſlike him. This honeſt familiarity increaſed daily more and more betwixt them▪ for Bellaria noting in Egiſtus a Princely and bountifull mind, adorned with ſundry & excellent qualities, and Egiſtus finding in her a vertuous & curteous dispoſition, there grew ſuch a ſecret vniting of their affections, that the one could not well be without the company of the other: inſomuch, that when Pandoſto was buſied with ſuch vrgent affaires that he could not be preſent with his friend Egiſtus, Bellaria would walk with him into the garden, & there they two in priuate pleaſant deuices, would paſſe away their time: to both their contents. This cuſtome ſtill continuing betwixt them a certain emelantholy paſſion entrring the mind of Pondoſto droue him into ſundry and doubtfull thoughts Firſt he called to mind the beauty of his wife Bellaria▪ the comelines and brauery of his friend Egiſtus thinking that loue was aboue all Lawes, & therfore to be ſtaied with no law, that it was hard to put •• re & flax together without burning; that their open pleaſure might bréed his ſecret diſpleaſure. He conſidered with himſelfe that Egiſtus was a man, and muſt needs loue: that his wife was a woman, and therfore ſubiect to loue: and that where fancy forced friendſhip was of no force. Theſe & ſuchlike doubtfull thoughts a long time ſmothering in his ſtomacke, began at laſt to kindle in his minde a ſecret miſtruſt, which increaſed by ſuſpition, grew at laſt to flaming iealouſie that ſo tormented him, as he could take no reſt. He then began to meaſure all their actions and miſconſtrue of their too priuate familiarity, iudging that it was not for honeſt affection, but for diſordinate fancy: ſo as hee began to watch them more narrowly, to ſée if he could get any true or certaine proofe to confirme his doubtfull ſuſpition. While thus he noted her lookes and geſtures, and ſuſpected their thoughts, and meanings, they two ſilly ſoules, who doubted nothing of thishis, treacherouas intent, frequented daily each others company: which draue him into ſuch a franticke paſſion, that he began to beare a ſecret hate to Egiſtus, and a lowring countenance to Bellaria; who maruelling at ſuch vnaccuſtomed frownes, began to caſt beyond the Moone, and to enter into a thouſand ſundry thoughts, which way ſhee ſhould offend her husband: but finding in her: ſelfe a cleere conſcience, ceaſed to muſe; till ſuch time as ſhee might find opportunity to demand the cauſe of his dumps. In the meane time Pandoſtos mind was ſo farre charged with iealouſie, that he no longer doubted, but was aſſured (as he thought) that his friend. Egiſtus entred a wrong point in his tables, and ſo had played him falſe play. Whereupon deſirous to reuenge ſo great an iniury he thought beſt to diſſemble the grudge with a faire and friendly countenance: & ſo under the ſhape of a friend, to ſhew him the tricke of a foe: deuiſing with himſelfe a long time how he might beſt put away Egiſtus, without ſuſpition of treacherous murther, concluded at laſt to poyſon him. Which opinion pleaſing his humour, he became reſolute in his determination, & the better to bring the matter ſo paſſe hee called to him his Cup-bearer with whom in ſecret he brake the matter? promiſing him for the performance thereof▪ • to giue him a thouſan • Crowns of yeerely▪ reuenue▪ His cup-bearer, either being of a good conſcience be willing for faſhions ſake to deny ſuch a 〈◊〉 requeſt, began with great reaſons to perſwade Pandoſto from his determinate miſchiefe: ſhewing him what an offence murther was to the gods, how much vnnaturall actions did more diſpleaſe the heauens, then men: and that cauſeleſſe cruelty did ſeldome or neuer eſcape without reuenge: hée laid before his face, that Egiſtus was his friend, a King, and one that was come into this Kingdome, to confirme a league of perpetuall amity betwixt them, that hee had, and did ſhew him a moſt friendly countenance: how Egiſtus was not onely honoured of his owne people by obedience, but alſo loued of the Bohemians for his courteſie: And that it hee now ſhould without any iuſt or manifeſt cauſe, poyſon him, it would not only be a great diſhonour to his Maieſty, and a meanes to ſow a perpetuall enmity betwéen the Sycilians and the Bohemians, but alſo his own ſubiects would repine at ſuch trecherous cruelty. Theſe and ſuch like perſwaſions of Franion (for ſo was his cap-bearer called) could no whit preuaile to diſwade him from his diuelliſh enterprize: but remaining reſolute in his determination (his fury ſo fixed with rage, as it could not be appeaſed with reaſon) he began with bitter taunts to take up his man, and to lay before him two baits, preferment and death: ſaying, that if he would poyſon Egiſtus, hée would aduance him to high dignities: if he refuſed to doe it of an obſtinate minde, no torture ſhould be too great to requite his diſobedience. Franion, ſéeing that to perſwade Pandoſto any more, was but to ſtriue againſt the ſtreame, conſented as ſoone as opportunity would giue him leaue, to diſpatch Egiſtus: wherewith Pandoſto remained ſomewhat ſatisfied, hoping now hee ſhould be fully reuenged of ſuch miſtruſted iniuries, intending alſo as ſoone as Egiſtus was dead, to giue his wife a ſop of the ſame ſauce, and ſo to be rid of thoſe which are the cauſe of his reſtleſſe ſorrow: while thus he liued in this hope, Franion being ſecret in his chamber, began to meditate with himſelfe in theſe termes.

AH Franion, treaſon is loued of many, but the traytor hated of all, vniuſt offences may for a time eſcape without danger, but neuer without reuenge. Thou art ſeruant to a King, and muſt obey at command: yet, Franion, againſt law and conſcience it is not good to reſiſt a tyrant with armes, nor to pleaſe an vniuſt King with obedience. What ſhalt th • u doe? Folly refuſed gold, and frenzy preferment; wiſdome ſéeketh after dignity, and counſell looketh for gaine: Egiſtus is a ſtranger to thée, and Pandoſto thy Soueraigne: Thou haſt little cauſe to reſpect the one, and oughteſt to haue great care to obey the other. Thinke this Franion, that a pound of Gold is worth a Tunne of leade: great gifts are little gods; and preferment to a meane man is a whet-ſtone to courage. There is nothing ſwéeter than promotion, nor lighter than report: care not then though moſt count thée a traytor, ſo all call thée rich. Dignity, Franion, aduanceth thy poſterity, and euill report can but hurt thy ſelfe. Know this, where Eagles build, Faulcons may prey; where Lions haunt, Foxes may ſteale. Kings are knowne to command, ſeruants are blameleſſe to conſent: feare not thou then to lift at Egiſtus, Pandoſto ſhall beare the burthen. Yea, but Franion, conſcience is a worme that euer biteth, but neuer ceaſeth. That which is rubbed with the ſtone Galactities, will neuer be hot. Fleſh dipped in the Sea Aegeum, will neuer be ſwéete. The Herbe Trigion, being once bit with an Apſis, neuer groweth: and conſcience once ſtained with innocent blood, is alwaies tyed to a guilty remorſe. Preferre thy content before riches, and a cleare minde before dignity: ſo being poore, thou ſhalt haue rich peace, or elſe rich, thou ſhalt enioy diſquiet.

FRanion hauing muttered out theſe, or ſuch like words, ſéeing either he muſt die with a cleare minde, or liue with a ſpotted conſcience: hée was ſo cumbred with diuers cogitations, that hée could take no reſt, vntill at laſt he determined to breake the matter to Egiſtus: but fearing that the King ſhould either ſuſpect, or heare of ſuch matters, hée concealed the deuice till opportunity would permit him to reueale it. Lingring thus in doubtfull feare, in an Euening he went to Egiſtus lodging, and deſirous to ſpeake with him of certaine affaires that touched the King, after all were commanded out of the Chamber, Franion made manifeſt the whole conſpiracy which Pandoſto had deuiſed againſt him, deſiring Egiſtus not to account him a traytor for bewraying his Maſters counſell, but to thinke that hée did it for conſcience: hoping that although his Maſter inflamed with rage, or incenſed by ſome ſiniſter reports, or ſlanderous ſpéeches, had imagined ſuch cauſeleſſe miſchiefe, yet when time ſhould pacifie his anger, and try thoſe tale-bearers but flattering Paraſites, then he would count him as a faithfull ſeruant, that with ſuch care had kept his Maſters credit. Egiſtus had not fully heard Franion tell forth his tale, but a quaking feare poſſeſſed all his limmes, thinking that there was ſome treaſon wrought, and that Franion did but ſhadow his craft with theſe falſe colours: wherefore hée began to waxe in choller, and ſaid, that he doubted not Pandoſto, ſith hée was his friend, and there had neuer as yet béene any breach of amity: he had not ſought to inuade his Lands, to conſpire with his enemies, to diſſwade his Subiects from their allegians: but in word and thought he reſted his at all times: he knew not therefore any cauſe, that ſhould moue Pandoſto to ſéeke his death, but ſuſpected it to be a compacted knauery of the Bohemians, to bring the King and him at oddes. Franion ſtaying him in the midſt of his talke, told him, That to dally with Princes was, with the Swannes to ſing againſt their death, and that if the Bohemians had intended any ſuch miſchiefe, it might haue béene better brought to paſſe, than by reuealing the conſpiracy: therefore his Maieſty did ill, to miſconſtrue of his good meaning, ſith his intent was to hinder treaſon, not to become a Traytor: and to confirme his promiſes. If it pleaſed his Maieſty to flye into Sycilia, for the ſafegard of his life, hee would goe with him: add if then hée found not ſuch a practice to be pretended, let his imagined treachery be repayed with moſt monſtrous torments. Egiſtus hearing the ſolemne proteſtations of Franion, beganne to conſider, that in Loue and Kingdomes neither Faith nor Law is to be reſpected: doubting that Pandoſto thought by his death to deſtroy his men, and with ſpéedie Warre to inuade Sycilia. Theſe and ſuch doubts throughly weighed, hée gaue great thankes to Franion, promiſing, if he might with life returne to Syracuſa, that he would create him a Duke in Sycilia: crauing his counſell how hée might eſcape out of the Countrey. Franion, who hauing ſome ſmall ſkill in Nauigation, was well acquainted with the Ports and Hauens, and knew euery danger of the Sea, ioyning in counſell with the Maſter of Egiſtus Nauy, rigged all their ſhips, and ſetting them afloat, let them lie at anchor, to be in the more readineſſe, when time and wind ſhould ſerue. Fortune, although blinde, yet by chance fauouring this iuſt cauſe, ſent them within ſix daies a good gale of winde: which Franion ſéeing fit for their purpoſe, to put Pandoſto out of ſuſpition, the night before they ſhould ſayle, hée went to him, and promiſed, that the next day he would put the deuice in practice; for hée had got ſuch a forcible poyſon, as the very ſmell thereof would procure ſudden death. Pandoſto was ioyfull to heare this good newes, and thought euery houre a day, till he might be glutted with bloody reuenge: but his ſuit had but ill ſucceſſe: for Egiſtus fearing that delay might bréed danger, and willing that the graſſe ſhould not be cut from vnder his féete, taking bag and baggage, by the helpe of Franion conueyed himſelfe and his men out at the Poſterne gate of the City, ſo ſecretly, and ſpéedily, that without any ſuſpition they got to the Sea ſhore: where, with many a bitter curſe taking their leaue of Bohemia, they went aboard, weighing their Anchors, and hoyſting ſaile, they paſſed as faſt as winde and Sea would permit toward Cycilia: Egiſtus being a ioyfull man that he had ſafely paſſed ſuch trecherous perills. But as they were quietly floating on the ſea, Pandoſto and his Citizens were in an vprore: for ſéeing that the Cycilians without taking their leaue were fled away by night, the Bohemians feared ſome treaſon, and the King thought that without queſtion his ſuſpition was true, ſéeing the Cup bearer had bewrayed the ſumme of his ſecret pretence. Whereupon he began to imagine that Franion and his wiſe Bellaria had conſpired with Egiſtus, and that the feruent affection ſhe bare him, was the only meane of his ſecret departure, inſomuch, that incenſed with rage, he commanded that his wife ſhould be carried ſtraight to priſon, vntill they heard further of his pleaſure. The Guards vnwilling to lay their hands on ſuch a vertu • us Princeſſe, and yet fearing the Kings fury, went very ſorrowfully to fulfill their charge: comming to the Quéenes Lodging, they found her playing with her young Sonne Garinter, vnto whom with teares doing their meſſage, Bellaria, aſtoniſhed at ſuch a hard cenſure, and finding her cleare conſcience a ſure aduocate to plead in her cauſe, went to the Priſon moſt willingly: where with ſighes and teares ſhe paſt away the time, till ſhe might come to her tryall.

But Pandoſto, whoſe reaſon was ſuppreſſed with rage, and whoſe vnbridled Folly wks incenſed with fury, ſéeing Franion had bewrayed his ſecrets, and that Egiſtus might well be railed on, but not reuenged, determined to wreake all his wrath on poore Bellaria. Hee therefore cauſed a generall proclamation to be made through all his Realmè, that the Quéene and Egiſtus had by the helpe of Franion, not onely committed moſt iuceſtuous adultery, but alſo had conſpired the Kings death: whereupon the traytor Franion was fled away with Egiſtus, and Bellaria was moſt iuſtly impriſoned. This Proclamation being once blazed through the countrey, although the vertuous diſpoſition of the Quéene did halfe diſcredit the contents, yet ſo ſudden and ſpéedy meſſage of Egiſtus, and the ſecret departure of Franion induced them (the circumſtances throughly conſidered) to thinke that both the Proclamation was true, and the King greatly enuied: yet they pittied her caſe, as ſorrowfull that ſo good a Lady ſhould be croſſed with ſuch aduerſe Fortune. But the King, whoſe reſtleſſe rage would admit no pitty, though that although hee might ſufficiently requite his wiues falſhood with the bitter plague of pinching penury, yet his minde ſhould neuer be glutted with reuenge, till hée might haue a fit and opportunity to repay the trechery of Egiſtus with a fatall iniury. But a curſt Cow hath oftentimes ſhort hornes, and a willing minde but a weake arme. For Pandoſto, although he felt that reuenge was a ſpurre to warre, and that enuy alwaies proffereth ſtéele, yet he ſaw, that Egiſtus was not onely of great puiſſance and proweſſe to withſtand him, but had alſo many Kings of his alliance to aid him, if néed ſhould ſerue: for hee married the Emperous daughter of Ruſſia. Theſe and the like conſiderations ſomething daunted Pandoſto his courage, ſo that he was content rather to put vp a manifeſt iniury with peace, then hunt after reuenge, diſhonour and loſſe: determining, ſince Egiſtus had eſcaped ſcot-frée, that Bellaria ſhould pay for all at an vnreaſonable price.

Remaining thus reſolute in his determination, Bellaria continuing ſtill in priſon, and hearing the contents of the Proclamation, knowing that her minde was neuer touched with ſuch affection, nor that Egiſtus had euer offered her ſuch diſcourteſie, would gladly haue come to her anſwer, that both ſhe might haue knowne her iuſt accuſers, and cléered her ſelfe of that guiltleſſe crime.

But Pandoſto was ſo enflamed with rage, and infected with iealouſie, as he would not vouchſafe to heare her, nor admit any iuſt excuſe: ſo that ſhée was faine to make a vertue of her néed, and with patience to heare theſe heauy iniuries. As thus ſhée lay croſſed with calamities (a great cauſe to increaſe her griefe) ſhée found her ſelfe quicke with childe: which as ſoone as ſhe felt ſtirre in her body, ſhée burſt forth into bitter teares, exclaiming againſt Fortune in theſe termes.

ALas, Bellaria, How infortunate art thou, becauſe fortunate! Better thou hadſt béene borne a Begger then a Prince, ſo ſhouldeſt thou haue bridled Fortune with want, where now ſhée ſporteth her ſelfe with thy plenty? Ah happy life, where poore thoughts, and meane deſires liue in ſecure content, not fearing Fortune, becauſe too low. For Fortune, thou ſéeſt now, Bellaria, that care is a companion to Honour, not to pouerty: that high Cedars are cruſhed with tempeſts, when low ſhrubs are not touched with the winde: precious Diamonds are cut with the File, when deſpiſed Pebbles lies ſafe in the ſand: Delphos is ſought to by Princes, not Beggers: And Fortunes Altars ſmoke with Kings preſents, not with poore mens gifts. Happy are ſuch, Bellaria, that curſe Fortune for contempt, not feare: and may wiſh they were not ſorry they haue béene. Thou art a Princeſſe, Bellaria, and yet a priſoner: borne to the one by deſcent, aſſigned to the other by deſpight: accuſed without cauſe, and therefore oughteſt to die without care: for patience is a ſhield againſt Fortune, and a guiltleſſe mind yéeldeth not to ſorrow. Ah, but infamy galleth vnto death, and liueth after death: Report is plumed with Times Feathers, and Enuy oftentimes ſoundeth Fames Trumpet: the ſuſpected Adultery ſhall flie in the Ayre, and thy knowne vertues ſhall lie hid in the Earth: one Mole ſtaineth a whole Face; and what is once ſpotted with Infamy, can hardly be worne out with Time. Die then, Bellaria, Bellaria, die, for if the gods ſhould ſay, thou art guiltleſſe, leſſe, yet Enuy would heare the gods, but neuer beléeue the gods. Ah, hapleſſe wretch, ceaſe theſe Termes: Deſperate thoughts are fit for them that feare ſhame, not for ſuch as hope for credit. Pandoſto hath darkened thy Fame, but ſhall neuer diſcredit thy Vertues. Suſpition may enter a falſe Action, but proofe ſhall neuer put in his Plea. Care not then for Enuy ſith Report hath a bliſter on her Tongue: and let ſorrow bite them which offend, not touch thée that art faultleſſe. But alas, poore Soule, how canſt thou but ſorrow? Thou art with Childe, and by him, that in ſtead of kinde pity, pincheth thée in cold Priſon. And with that, ſuch gaſping ſighes ſtopping her breath that ſhée could not vtter any more words, but wringing her hands, and guſhing forth ſtreames of teares, ſhée paſſed away the time with bitter complaints.

THe Iaylor pittying thoſe her heauy paſſions, thinking that if the King knew ſhe were with childe, he would ſomewhat appeaſe his fury, and releaſe her from priſon, went in all haſt, and certified Pandoſto, what the effect of Bellaria's complaint was: who no ſooner heard the Iaylor ſay ſhe was with childe, but as one poſſeſſed with a frenzie, hée roſe vp in a rage, ſwearing that ſhée, and the baſtard brat ſhée was withall ſhould die, if the gods themſelues ſaid no: thinking ſurely by computation of time, that Egiſtus, and not he, was father to the child. This ſuſpitious thought galled afreſh his halfe-healed Sore, inſomuch as hée could take no reſt, vntill hée might mittigate his choler with a iuſt reuenge, which happened preſently after. Bellaria was brought to bed of a faire and beautifull▪ Daughter, which no ſooner Pandoſto heard, but he determined that both Bellaria and the young Infant ſhould be burned with fire. His Nobles hearing of the Kings cruell ſentence, ſought by perſwaſions to diuert him from his bloody determination: ſaying before his face, the innocency of the childe, and vertuous diſpoſition of his wife how ſhe had continually loued and honoured him ſo tenderly, that without due proofe he could not, nor ought not to appeach her of that crime: and if ſhe had faulted, yet it were more honorable to pardon with mercy, then to puniſh with extremity, and more Kingly to be commended of pitty, then to diſcredit her. And as for the Childe, if he would puniſh it for the mothers offence, it were to ſtriue againſt nature and iuſtice; and that vnnaturall actions doe more offend the gods, then men: how cauſeleſſe cruelty, nor innocent blood neuer eſcapes without reuenge. Theſe and ſuch like reaſons could not appeaſe his rage, but hée reſted reſolute in this, that Bellaria being an Adultreſſe, the childe was a baſtard, and hee would not ſuffer that ſuch an infamous Brat ſhould call him Father. Yet at laſt (ſéeing his noble men were importunate vpon him) hée was content to ſpare the childs life. and yet to put it to a worſe death. For he found out this deuice, that ſéeing (as hée thought) it came by Fortune, ſo hée would commit it to the charge of Fortune, and therefore hee cauſed a little cock-boate to be prouided, wherein hee meant to put the babe, and then ſend it to the mercies of the ſeas, and the deſtinies. From this his Péeres in no wiſe could perſwade him, but that he ſent preſently two of his Guard to fetch the childe: who being come to the priſon, and with wéeping teares recounting their Maſters meſſage, Bellaria no ſooner heard the rigorous reſolution of her mercileſſe huſband, but ſhee fell downe in a ſwound, ſo that all thought ſhée had béene dead: yet at laſt being come to her ſelfe, ſhe cried and ſcréeked out in this wiſe.

ALas, ſwéete infortunate Babe, ſcarce borne before enuied by fortune, would the day of thy birth had béene the terme of my life: then ſhouldeſt thou haue made an end to care, and preuented thy Fathers rigour. Thy faults cannot yet deſerue ſuch hatefull reuenge, thy daies are too ſhort for ſo ſharpe a doome: but thy vntimely death muſt pay thy Mothers debts, and her guiltleſſe crime muſt be thy gaſtly curſe. And ſhalt thou ſwéet Babe, be committed to Fortune, when thou art already ſpighted by Fortune? Shall the ſeas be thy harbour, and the hard boat thy cradle; Shall thy tender mouth, in ſtead of ſwéete kiſſes, be nipped with bitter ſtormes? Shalt thou haue the whiſtling windes for thy Lullaby, and the ſalt ſea ſome in ſtead of ſwéet Milke? Alas, what deſtinies would aſſigne ſuch hard hap? What father would be ſo cruell? Or what gods will not reuenge ſuch rigour? Let me kiſſe thy lips (ſwéete Infant) and wet thy tender chéekes wilh my teares, and put this chaine about thy little necke: that if Fortune ſaue thée, it may helpe to ſuccour thée. Thus, ſince thou muſt goe to ſurge in the gaſtfull Seas, with a ſorrowfull kiſſe I bid thée fare well, and I pray the gods thou maiſt farewell. Such and ſo great was her griefe, that her vitall Spirits being ſuppreſt with ſorrow, ſhee fell againe downe in a trance, hauing her ſenſes ſo ſtopped with care, that after ſhe was reuined, yet ſhee loſt her memory, and lay for a great time without mouing, as one in a trance. The Guard left her in this perplexity, and carried the childe to the King: who quite deuoid of pity, commanded that without delay it ſhould be put into the Boat, hauing neither Saile nor Rudder to guide it, and ſo to be carried into the midſt of the Sea, and there left to the windes and the waues, as the Deſtinies pleaſe to appoint. The very Ship-men, ſéeing the ſwéet countenance of the young Babe, began to accuſe the King of rigour, and to pity the childs hard Fortune: but feare conſtrained them to that which their nature did abhorre: ſo that they placed it in one of the ends of the Boat, and with a few gréene boughes made a homely Cabbin to ſhroud it, as well as they could, from wind and weather. Hauing thus trimmed a Boat, they tyed it to a Ship, and ſo haled it into the maiue Sea, and then cut in ſunder the Cord: which they had no ſooner done, but there aroſe a mighty Tempeſt, which toſſed the little Boat ſo vehemently in the waues, that the Ship-men thought it could not continue long without ſincking: yet the ſtorme grew ſo great, that with great labour and perill they got to the ſhore. But leauing the Childe to her Fortunes, wee will returne to Pandoſto: who not yet glutted with ſuffcient reuenge, deuiſed which way he ſhould beſt increaſe his wiues calamity. But firſt aſſembling his Nobles & Councellours, hee called her (for the more reproach) in open Court, where it was obiected againſt her, that ſhe had committed adultery with Egiſtus, and conſpired with Franion to poyſon Pandoſto her huſband; but their pretence being partly ſpyed, ſhée counſelled them to flie away by night, for their better ſafety. Bellaria (who ſtanding like a priſoner at the Barre, and féeling in her ſelfe a cléere conſcience to withſtand her falſe accuſers) ſéeing no leſſe then death could pacifie her Huſbands wrath, waxed bold, and deſired that ſhée might haue Law and Iuſtice: (for mercy ſhe neither craved nor hoped) and that thoſe periured wretches, which had falſely accuſed her to the King, might be brought before her face to give in evidence. Pandoſto (whoſe rage and iealouſie was ſuch, as no reaſon nor equity could appeaſe) told her, that for her accuſers, they were of ſuch credit, as their words were ſufficient witnes and that the ſodaine and ſecret flight of Egiſtus and Franion confirmed that which they had confeſſed; and as for her, it was her par to deny ſuch a monſtrous crime, and to be impudent in forſwearing the fact, ſince ſhée had paſſed all ſhame in committing the fault: but her countenance ſhould ſtand for no coyne: for as the baſtard which ſhée bare was ſerved, ſo ſhée ſhould with ſome cruell death bée requited. Bellaria no whit diſmaid with this rough reply, told her Husband Pandoſto that hée ſpake upon choller, and not conſcience; for her vertuous life had ever beene ſuch, as no ſpot of ſuſpition could ever ſtaine it. And it ſhée had borne a friendly countenance to Egiſtus, it was in reſpect he was his friend, and not for any luſting affection: therefore if ſhée were condemned without any further proofe, it was rigour and not Law. The Noble-men which ſate in Iudgement▪ ſaid that Bellaria ſpake reaſon, and intreated the King that her accuſers might bee openly examined, and ſworne: if then the evidence were ſuch as the Iury might finde her guilty (for ſeeing ſhe was a Prince▪ ſhée ought to be tried by the Péeres) then let her have ſuch puniſhment as the extremity of the Law will aſſigne to ſuch malefactors. The King preſently made anſwer that in this caſe hee might, and would diſpence with the Law. And that the Iury being once pannelled, they ſhould take his word for ſufficient evidence otherwiſe hee would make the proudeſt of them repent it. The Noblemen ſéeing the King in choller were all whiſt, but Bellaria, whoſe life hung in the ballance, fearing more perpetuall infamy, then momentany death, told the King, if his fury might ſtand for a Law, that it were vaine to have the Iury yéeld their verdict, and thereupon ſhe fell down upon her knées, and deſired the King, that for the love he bare to his yong Sonne Garinter, whom ſhée brought into the world that hee would grant her requeſt, the which was this, that it would pleaſe his Maieſtie to ſend ſixe of his Noblemen whom hée beſt truſted to the Iſle of Delphos, there to inquire of the Oracle of Apollo, whether ſhée had committed adultery with Egiſtus, or conſpired to poyſon him with Franion: and if the god Apollo, who by his divine eſſence knowes all ſecrets, gave anſwer that ſhe was guilty, ſhee was content to ſuffer any torment, were it never ſo terrible. The requeſt was ſo reaſonable, that Pandoſto could not for ſhame deny it, unleſſe he would bée counted of all his Subiects more wilfull then wiſe. Hée therefore agréed, that with as good ſpéed as might bée, there ſhould be certaine Ambaſſadors diſpatcht to the Iſle of Delpos: and in the meane ſeaſon he commanded that his wife ſhould be kept in cloſe Priſon. Bellaria having obtained this grant, was now more carefull of her little Babe that floated on the Seas, then ſorrowfull for her owne miſhay; for of that ſhee doubted; but of herſelfe ſhe was aſſured: knowing that if Apollo ſhould giue ſentence according to the thoughts of her heart, yet the ſentence ſhould goe on her ſide, ſuch was the cléereneſſe of her mind in this caſe. But Pandoſto (whoſe ſuſpicious head ſtill remained in one ſong) choſe out ſixe of his Nobility, whom he knew were ſcarce indifferent men in the Quéenes behalfe, and prouiding all things fit for their iourney, ſent them to Delphos. They willing to fuffill the Kings command, and deſirous to ſée the ſituation and cuſtome of the Iſland, diſpatched their affaires with as much ſpéed as might bée, and embarked themſelues to the voyage, which, (the wind and weather ſeruing fit for their purpoſe) was ſoone ended. For within thrée wéekes they arriued at Delphos: where they were no ſooner ſet on Land, but with great deuotion they went to the Temple of Apollo and there offering ſacrifice vnto the god, and gifts to the Prieſt, as the cuſtome was, they humbly craued an anſwer of their demand. They had not long knéeled at the Altar, but Apollo with a loud vo • ce ſaid: Bohemians what yée find behind the Altar, take and depart. They forthwith obeyed the Oracle, found a ſcrowle of parchment, wherin were written theſe words in letters of Gold.

AS seene as they had taken out this ſcrowle, the Prieſt of the god commanded them, that they ſhould not preſume to reade it before they came to the preſence of Pandoſto, unleſſe they would incurre the diſpleaſure of Apollo. The Bohemian Lords carefully obeying his command, taking their leaue of the Prieſt, with great reuerence departed out of the Temple and went to their Ships: and as ſoone as Wind would permit them, ſayled towards Bohemia, where in ſhort time they ſafely arriued, and with great Triumph iſſuing out of their ſhips, went to the Kings Palace, whom they found in his Chamber, accompanied with other Noble-men. Pandoſto no ſooner ſaw them, but with a merry countenance he welcomed them home, asking, what newes? They told his Maieſty, that they had receiued anſwer of the god, written in a Scrowle: but with this charge, that they ſhould not read the contents before they came in the preſence of the King: and with that they deliuered him the Parchment. But his Noblemen intreated him, that ſith therein were conteined either the ſafety of his Wifes life and honeſty, vr her death and perpetuall infamy; that hee would haue his Nobles and Commons aſſembled in the Iudgement Hall, where the Queene, brought in as a priſoner, ſhould heare the contents: If ſhe were ſound guilty by the Oracle of the god, then all ſhould haue cauſe to thinke his rigour procéeded of due deſert: if her Grace were found faultleſſe, then ſhe ſhould be cléered before all, ſith ſhe had beene accuſed openly. This pleaſed the King, ſo that hée appointed the day, and aſſembled all the Lords and Commons, and cauſed the Quéene to be brought in before the Iudgement Seat, commanding that the Iudgement ſhould be read: wherein ſhe was accuſed of Adultery with Egiſtus, and of conſpiracy with Franion. Bellaria hearing the contents, was no whit aſtoniſhed, but made this chéerefull anſwer.

IF the Diuine powers be priuy to humane Actions, (as no doubt they are) I hope my patience ſhall make Fortune bluſh, and my vnſpotted life ſhall ſtaine ſpitefull diſcredit. For although lying report hath ſought to appeach mine honour, and ſuſpition hath intended to ſoyle credit with infamy: yet where Vertue kéepeth the Fort, report and ſuſpition may aſſayle, but neuer ſacke. How I haue led my life before Egiſtus comming, I appeale (Pandoſto) to the gods, and to thy conſcience. What hath paſſed betwéene him and mee, the gods onely know, and I hope will preſently reueale. That I loued Egiſtus, I cannot deny, that I honoured him, I ſhame not to confeſſe. To the one I was forced by his vertue; to the other, for his dignities. But as touching laſciuious luſt, I ſay, Egiſtus is honeſt, and hope my ſelfe to be found without ſpot. For Franion, I can neither accuſe him, nor excuſe him: I was not priuy to his departure: And that this is true which I haue here rehearſed, I referre my ſelfe vnto the Diuine Oracle.

BEllaria had no ſooner ſaid, but the King commanded that one of the Dukes ſhould reade the contents of the Scrowle, which after the Commons had heard, they gaue a great ſhoute, reioycing and clapping their hands that the Quéene was cleare of that falſe accuſation. But the King, whoſe conſcience was a witneſſe againſt him of his witleſſe ſury, and falſe ſuſpected iealouſie, was • o aſhamed of his raſh folly, that hee intreated his Nobles to perſwade Bellaria to forgiue and forget theſe iniuries, promiſing not onely to ſhew himſelfe a loyall and louing Husband, but alſo to reconcile himſelfe to Egiſtu and Franion: reuealing then before them all the cauſe of their ſecret flight, and how trecherouſly hee thought to haue practiſed his death, if the good minde of his Cup-bearer had not preuented his purpoſe. As thus hee was relating the whole matter, there was word brought him, that his young Sonne Garinter was ſuddenly dead: which newes ſo ſoone as Bellaria heard, ſurcharged before with extreme ioy, and now ſuppreſſed with heauy ſorrow, her vitall ſpirits were ſtopped, that ſhée fell downe preſently dead, and neuer could be reuiued. This ſudden ſight ſo appalled the Kings ſenſes, that hée ſunke from his Seate in a ſwound, ſo as hée was faine to be carried by his Nobles to his Palace, where hée lay by the ſpace of thrée daies without ſpéech. His Commons were as men in deſpaire, ſo diuerſly diſtreſſed there was nothing but mourning and lamentation to be heard throughout all Bohemia: their young Prince dead, their vertuous Quéene bereaued of her life, and their King and Soueraigne in great hazzard: this tragicall diſcourſe of Fortune ſo daunted them, as they went like ſhadowes, not men: yet ſomewhat to comfort their heauy hearts, they heard that Pandoſto was come to himſelfe, and had recouered his ſpéech: who, as in ſury, brayed theſe bitter ſpéeches.

O Miſerable Pandoſto! what ſurer witnes then conſcience? What thoughts more ſowre then ſuſpition? what plague more bad then Iealouſie? Vnnaturall actions offend the gods, more then men: and cauſeleſſe cruelty neuer ſcapes without reuenge. I haue committed ſuch a bloudy fact, as repent I may, but recall I cannot. Ah Iealouſie a hell to the mind, and a horrour to the conſcience, ſuppreſſing reaſon, and melting rage: a worſe paſſion then frenzy, a greater plague then madneſſe. Are the gods iuſt? then let them reuenge ſuch brutiſh cruelty: my innocent Babe I haue drowned in the Seas: my louing wife I haue ſlaine with ſlanderous ſuſpition: my truſty friend I haue ſought to betray: and yet the gods are ſiacke to plague ſuch offences. Ah vniuſt Apollo, Pandoſto is the man that hath committed the fault; why ſhould Garinter, ſilly Child abide the paine? Well, ſith the gods meaneto prolonge my daies to increaſe my dolour, I will offer my guilty bloud a ſacrifice to thoſe guiltleſſe ſoules, whoſe liues are loſt by rigorous folly. And with that hée reached at a Rapier to haue murthered himſelfe: but his Péeres being preſent ſtayed him from ſuch a bloudy act: perſwading him to thinke, that the Commonwealth conſiſted on his ſafety, and that thoſe ſheepe could not but periſh that wanted a Shepheard: wiſhing that if he would not liue for himſelfe, yet he ſhould haue a care of his Subiects, and to put ſuch fancies out of his mind, ſith in ſores paſt helpe, ſalues doe not heale, but hurt: and in things paſt cure, care is a corroſiue. Withtheſe and ſuch like perſwaſions the King was ouercome, and began ſome what to quiet his mind: ſo that ſo ſoone as he could goe abroad, he cauſed his wife to be imbalmed, and wrapt in Lead, with her young Sonne Garinter: erecting a rich and famous Sepulchre, wherein he intombed them both, making ſuch ſolemne obſequies at her Funerall, as all Bohemia might perceiue he did greatly repent him of his fore-paſſed folly: cauſing this Epitaph to be ingrauen on her Tombe, in Letters of Gold.

THis Epitaph being ingrauen, Pandoſto would once a day repaire to the Tombe, and there, with watry plaints bewayle his misfortune: coueting no other companion but ſorrow, and no other harmonie but repentance. But leauing him to his dolorous paſſions, at laſt let vs come to ſhew the tragicall diſcourſe of the young Infant.

WHo being toſſed with wind and waues, floated two whole dayes without ſuccour, ready at euery puffe to be drowned in the Sea: till at the laſt the tempeſt ceaſed & the little Boat was driuen with the tide into the Coaſt of Cicilia: where ſticking vpon the Sands, it reſted, Fortune minding to bee wanton, (willing to ſhew that as ſhée hath wrincles on her browes, ſo ſhe hath dimples in her chéekes) thought after ſo many ſowre lookes, to ſend a fained ſmile; and after a pufting ſtorme, to bring a pretty calme, ſhée began thus to dally. It fortuned a poore mercenary Shepheard, that dwelled in Sicilia, who got his liuing by other mens Flockes, miſſed one of his ſhéepe, and thinking it had ſtraied into the couert that was hard by, ſought very diligently to find that which hee could not ſée, fearing either that the wolues or Eagles had vndone him, (for he was ſo poore, as a Sheepe was halfe his ſubſtance) wandred downe, towards the Sea-cliffes, to ſee if perchance the Sheepe was browzing on the Sea-Iuy, whereon they doe greatly feed. But not finding her there, as hée was ready to returne to his Flocke, he heard a childe cry: but knowing there was no houſe neere, he thought he had miſtaken the ſound, and that it was the bleating of his ſheepe. Wherefore looking more narrowly, as he cast his eye to the Sea, hée eſpied a little Boat, from whence (as he attentiuely liſtened) he might heare a cry to come. Standing a good while in a maze, at laſt he went to the ſhore, and wading to the Boat, as he looked in, he ſaw a little Babe lying all alone, ready to die for hunger and cold, wrapped in a Mantle of Scarlet, richly embrothered with Gold, and hauing a Chaine about her necke. The Shepherd, who before had neuer ſéene ſo faire a Babe, nor ſo rich Iewels, thought aſſuredly that it was ſome little god, and began with great deuotion to knocke on his breaſt. The Babe, who writhed with the head to ſéeke for the Pap, began againe to cry afreſh: whereby the poore man knew that it was a Childe, which by ſome ſiniſter meanes was driuen thither by diſtreſſe of weather: maruelling how ſuch a ſilly Infant, which by the Mantle and Chaine could not but be borne of Noble parentage, ſhould be ſo hardly croſſed with deadly miſhap. The poore Shepherd perplexed thus with diuers thoughts, tooke pity of the Childe, and determined with himſelfe to carry it to the King, that there it might be brought vp, according to the worthineſſe of the birth: for his ability could not afford to foſter it, though his minde was willing to further it. Taking therefore the Childe in his armes, he folded the Mantle together, the votter to defend if from the cold, there fell downe at his foote, a very faire and rich purſe, wherein hee found a great ſumme of gold: which ſight ſo reuiued the Shepherds ſpirits, as he was greatly rauiſhed with ioy, and daunted with fea • e: ioyfull to ſée ſuch a ſum in his power; fearefull, if it ſhould be knowne, that it might bréed his further danger. Neceſſity wiſht him at the leaſt to retaine the gold, though he would not keepe the child: the ſimplicity of his conſcience feared him from ſuch a deceitfull bribery. Thus was the poore man perplexed with a doubtfull Dilemma, vntill at laſt the couetouſneſſe of the coyne ouercame him: for what will not the gréedy deſire of gold cauſe a man to doe? So that he was reſolued in himſelfe to foster the child, and with the ſumme to relieue his want. Reſting thus reſolute in this point, he left ſéeking his ſhéepe, and as couertly, and ſecretly as he could, went a by way to his houſe, leaſt any of his neighbours ſhould perceiue his carriage. As ſoone as he was got home; entring in at the doore, the child began foiery, which his wife hearing, and ſéeing her husband with a young babe in his armes, began to be ſome what iealous: yet maruelling that her husband would be ſo wanton abroad ſith he was ſo quiet at home. But as women are naturally giuen to beleeue the worſt ſo his wife thinking it was ſome baſtard began to ••• w againſt her good man, and taking vp a cudgell (for the moſt maſter went bréechleſſe) ſware ſolemnly, that ſhee would make Clubs trump, if he brought any baſtard brat within her doores. The good man ſéeing his wife in her maieſty, with her ••• e in her hand, thought it was time to bow, for feare of blowes, and deſired her to be quiet, for there was no ſuch matter: but if ſhe could hold her peace they were made for euer▪ And with that he told her the whole matter: how hee had found the child in a little boats without any ſuccour, wrapped in that coſtly mantle, and hauing that rich chaine about her necke: But at laſt when he ſhewed her the purſe full of gold, ſhe began to ſimper ſome what ſwéetly. And taking her husband about his necke, kiſſed him after her homely faſhion: ſaying that ſhe hoped God had ſéene their want and now meant to relieue their pouerty, and ſéeing they could get no children had ſent them this little babe to be their heire. Take héed in any caſe (faith the ſhéepheard) that you be ſecret; and blab it not out when you méete with your Goſſips For if you doe, we are not like not onely to loſe the gold and Iewels, but our other g ••• s and liues. Tuſh (quoth his wife) profit is a good hatch before the doore: Feare not, I haue other things to talke of, then this, but I pray you let vs lay vp the money ſurely; and the Iewels, leaſt by an • miſhap it be eſpied. After that they had ſet all things in order the Shepheard went to his ſhéepe with 〈…〉 , and the good wife learned to ſing Lullaby at home with her young babe, wrapped it in a homely blanket instead of a rich mantle, nouriſhing it ſo cleanly and carefully, as it began to be a iollie Girle▪ inſomuch that they began both of them to bee very fond of it, and as it waxed in age, ſo it increaſed in beauty. The Shepheard euery night at his comming home, would ſing and daunce it on his knee, and prattle, that in ſhort time it began to ſpeake, and call him Dadde, and her Mam. At laſt, when it grew to riper yéeres, that it was about ſeeuen yéeres old, the Shepheard left kéeping of other mens ſheepe, and with the money hée found in the purſe, he bought him the Leaſe of a pretty Farme, and got a ſmall flocke of Shéepe: which when Fawnia (for ſo they named the child) came to the age of ten yéeres, he let her to kéepe ſhéepe, and ſhe with ſuch diligence performed her charge, as the ſhéepe proſpered maruellouſly vnder her hand. Fawnia thought Porrus had béene her father, and Mopſa her mother (for ſo was the Shepheard and his wife called) and honoured and obeyed them with ſuch reuerence, that all the neighbours praiſed the dutifull obedience of the child. Porrus grew in ſhort time to be a man of ſome wealth and credit. For Fortune, ſo fauoured him, in hauing no charge but Fawnia, that hée began to purchaſe Land, intending after his death to giue it to his daughter: So that diuers rich Farmours ſonnes came as wooers to his houſe. For Fawnia was ſomething cleanly attired, being of ſuch ſingular beauty, and excellent wit, that who ſo ſaw her, would haue thought ſhée had béene ſome heauenly Nymph, and not a mortall creature. In ſo much that when ſhee came to the age of ſixteene yéeres, ſhee ſo increaſed with exquiſite perfection both of body and minde, as her naturall diſpoſition did bewray that ſhee was borne of ſome high parentage. But the people thinking ſhe was the daughter to the Shepheard Porrus, reſted onely amazed at her beauty and wit. Yea ſhee won ſuch fauour and commendations in euery mans eye, as her beauty was not onely praiſed in the Countrey, but alſo ſpoken of in the Court. Yet ſuch was her ſubmiſſe modeſty, that although her prayſe daily increaſed, her minde was no whit puffed vp with pride▪ but humbled her ſelfe as became a country maid, and the daughter of a poore Shepheard. Euery day ſhe went forth with her ſleep to the field: keeping them with ſuch care and diligence, as all men thought ſhe was very painefull, defending her face from the heat of the Sunne with no other vaile, but with a Garland made of boughes and flowers. Which attire became her ſo gallantly, as ſhe ſeemed to be the goddeſſe Flora her ſelfe for beauty. Fortune who all this while had ſhewed a friendly face, began now to turne her backe, and to ſhew a lowring countenance: intending as ſhée had giuen Fawnia a ſlender checke, ſo ſhee would giue her a harder mate. To bring which to paſſe, ſhe laid her trains on this wiſe: Egiſtus had but one onely ſonne called Doraſtus about the age of twenty yéeres: a Prince ſo decked and adorned with the gifts of Nature, ſo fraught with beauty and vertuous qualities, as not only his father ioyed to haue ſo good a ſonne, but his Commons reioyced that God had ſent them ſo noble a Prince to ſuccéed in the Kingdome. Egiſtus, placing all his ioy in the perfection of his ſonne (ſéeing that hee was now marriageable) ſent Ambaſſadours to the King of Denmarke, to intreate a marriage betwéen him and his daughter. Who willingly conſenting, made anſwer, that the next Spring, if it pleaſed Egiſtus with his ſonne to come into Denmarke, he doubted not, but they ſhould agree vpon reaſonable conditions. Egiſtus reſting ſatisfied with this friendly anſwer, thought conuenient in the meane time to break it vnto his ſonne. Finding therefore on a day fit opportunity, he ſpake to him in theſe fatherly termes.

DOraſtus, thy youth warneth me to preuent the worſt, and mine age to prouide the beſt. Opportunities neglected, are ſignes of folly: actions meaſured by time, are ſeldome bitten with repentance. Thou art young, and I old: age hath taught me th • t, which thy youth cannot conceiue.

I therefore will counſell thée as a Father, hoping thou wilt obey as a child. Thou ſeeſt, my white haires are bloſſomes for the Graue: and thy freſh colours, fruit for time and Fortune: ſo that it behooueth me, to thinke how to dye: and for thee, to care how to liue. My Crowne I muſt leaue by death, and thou enioy my Kingdome by ſucceſſion. Wherein, I hope, thy, Vertue and proweſſe ſhall be ſuch, as though my ſubiects want my perſon, yet ſhall ſee in thee my perfection. That nothing either may faile to ſatisfie thy minde, or increaſe thy dignities: the onely care I haue, is to ſée thee well married before I die, and thou become old.

Doraſtus (who from his infancy, delighted rather to die with Mars in the field, then to dally with Venus in the chamber) fearing to diſpleaſe his father, and yet not willing to be wed, made him this reuerend anſwer.

SIr, there is no greater bond then duty, nor no ſtricter Law then Nature: diſobedience in youth, is often galled with deſpight in age. The commend of the father ought to be a conſtraint to the child: ſo parents wills are lawes, ſo they paſſe not all Lawes. May it pleaſe your grace therefore, to appoint whom I ſhall loue: rather the▪ by deniall I ſhould beappeached of diſobedience, I reſt content to loue, though it be the onely thing I hate.

Egiſtus hearing his ſonne to flie from from the marke, began to be ſome what chellericke, and therefore made him this anſwer.

What Doraſtus, canſt thou not loue? Commeth this Cinicall paſſion of proud deſires, or péeuiſh frowardnes? What, doſt thou thinke thy ſelfe too good for all, or none good enough for thee? I tell thee Doraſtus, there is nothing ſweeter then youth: nor ſwifter decreaſing while it is increaſing. Time paſt with folly, may be repented, but not recalled. If thou marrie in age, thy wiues freſh coulours will bréd in thée dead thoughts and ſuſpition, and thy white haires her loathſomnes and ſorrow. For Venus affections are not fed with Kingdomes or treaſures, but with youthfull conceits, and ſwéet a • ours. Vulcan was allotted to ſhake the trée, but Mars allowed to reape the fruit. Yéeld (Doraſtus) to thy fathers perſwaſions, which why preuent thy perils. I haue choſen thée a wife▪ faire by nature, Royall by birth by vertues famous, learned by education, and rich by poſſeſſions: ſo that it is hard to iudge whether her bounty or fortune, her beauty or vertue be of greates force: I meane (Doraſtus) Euphania, daughter and heire to the King of Denmarke.

Egiſtus pauſing here a while, looking when his ſonne ſhould make him anſwer: and ſéeing that he ſtood ſtill, as one in a trance, he tooke him vp thus ſharpely.

VVEll (Doraſtus) take héed, the trée Alypa waſteth not with fire, but withereth with dew: that which loue nouriſheth not, periſheth with hate. If thou like Euphania, thou bréedeſt my content, and in louing her thou ſhalt haue my loue: otherwiſe: and with that he flung from his ſonne in a rage, leauing him a ſorrowfull man, in that he had by denyall diſpleaſed his father: and halfe angry with himſelfe, that he could not yéeld to that paſſion, whereto both reaſon and his father perſwaded him. But ſee how fortune is plumed with times feathers, and how ſhe can miniſter ſtrange cauſes, to bréed ſtrange effects.

It hapned not long after this, that there was a méeting of all the Farmors daughters in Sicilia, whither Fawnia was alſo bidden as the miſtreſſe of the feaſt: who hauing attired her ſelfe in her beſt garments, went amongſt the reſt of her companions to a merry meeting: there ſpending the day in ſuch homely paſtime as Shepheards vſe. As the Euening grew on, and their ſport ceaſed, each taking their leaue of other: Fawnia deſiring one of her companions to beare her company, went home by the flocke, to ſee if they were well fowlded. And as they returned, it fortuned that Doraſtus (who all that day had beene hawking, and killed ſtore of game) incountred by the way theſe two maides, fraring that with Acteon he had ſeene Diana: for he thought ſuch exquiſite perfection could not be found in any mortall creature. As thus he ſtood in a maze, one of his Pages told him that the maid with the garland on her head, was Fawnia, that faire Shepheardeſſe, whoſe beauty was ſo much talked of in the Court. Doraſtus deſirous to ſee if nature had adorned her mind withany inward qualities as ſhe had decked her body with outward ſhape, began to queſtion with her whoſe daughter ſhe was, of what age, and how ſhee had beene trained vp? Who anſwered him with ſuch modeſt reuerence and ſharpneſſe of wit, that Doraſtus thought her outward beauty was but a counterfeit to darken her inward qualities: wondring how ſo courtly behauiour could be found in ſo ſimple Cottage; and curſing Fortune, that had ſhaddowed wit and beauty with ſuch hard Fortune. As thus he held her a long time with chat, beauty ſéeing him at diſcouert, thought not to looſe the vantage, but ſtrucke him ſo déepely with an inuenomed ſhafte, as he wholly loſt his liberty, and became a ſlaue to Loue, which before contemned Loue, glad to gaze vpon a poore ſhepheardeſſe, who before refuſed the offer of rich Princeſſe. For the perfection of Fawnia had ſo fixed his fancie, as he felt his mind greatly changed, and his affection altered; curſing Loue, that had wrought ſuch a change and blaming the baſeneſſe of his minde, that would make ſuch a choyce. But thinking theſe were but paſſionate toyes that might be thruſt out at pleaſure: to auoyd the Syren that inchanted him hee ſpurs his horſe, and had his faire Shepheardeſſe farewell.

Fawnia (who all this while had marked the Princely geſture of Doraſtus) ſéeing his face ſo well featured, and each limbe ſo perfectly framed, began greatly to praiſe his perfection, commending him ſo long, till ſhe found her ſelfe faulty: and perceiued that if ſhe waded but a little further, ſhe might ſlip ouer the ſhooes She therefore ſeeking to quench that fire which neuer was put out went home and faining her ſelfe not well at eaſe, gother to bed: where caſting a thouſand thoughts in her head, ſhée could take no reſt: for if ſhée had waked, ſhe began to call to mind his beauty: and thinking to beguile ſuch thoughts with ſléepe, ſhée then dreamed of his perfection. Peſtered with theſe vnacquainted paſſions ſhe paſſed the night as ſhée could in ſhort ſlumbers.

Doraſtus (who all this while rode with a flea in his eare) could not by any meanes forget the ſweete fauour Fawnia, but reſted ſo bewitched with her wit and beauty, as hee could take no reſt. He felt fancie to giue the aſſault, and his wounded mind ready to yéeld as vanquiſhed: yet hee began with diuers conſiderations to ſuppreſſe his franticke affection, calling to mind, that Fawnia was a Shepheardeſſe, one not worthy to be looked at of a Prince: much leſſe to be loued of ſuch a Potentate: thinking what a diſcredit it were to himſelfe, and what a griefe it would be to his father: blaming fortune, and accuſing his owne folly, that ſhould be ſo fond, as but once to caſt a glance at ſuch a Country ſlut. And as thus he was raging againſt himſelfe▪ Loue (fearing if ſhe dallyed long, to loſe her Champion) ſtept more nigh, and gaue him ſuch a freſh wound, as it pierſt him at the heart that he was faine to yéeld maugre his face, and to forſake the company, and get him to his chamber, where being ſolemnly ſet, he burſt into theſe paſſionate termes.

AH Doraſtus, art thou alone? No, not alone, while thou art tyred with theſe vnacquainted paſſions. Yéeld to fancie thou canſt not by thy fathers counſell: but in a frenzie thou art, by iuſt deſtinies. Thy father were content, if thou couldeſt loue: and thou therefore diſcontent, becauſe thou doſt loue. O diuine Loue; feare of men, becauſe honoured of gods: not to be ſuppreſſed by wiſedome, becauſe not to be comprehended by reaſon: without law, and therefore aboue law.

How then Doraſtus? why doſt thou blaze that with praiſes which thou haſt cauſe to blaſpheme with curſes? Yet why ſhould they curſe loue, which are in loue?

Bluſh Doraſtus at thy Fortune, thy choyce, thy loue: thy thoughts cannot be vttered without ſhame, nor thy affections without diſcredit. Ah Fawnia, ſweet Fawnia, thy beauty Fawnia.

Shameſt not thou, Doraſtus, to name one vnfit for thy birth, thy Dignities, thy Kingdomes? Die, Doraſtus, Doraſtus, die. Better haddeſt thou periſh with high deſires, then liue in baſe thoughts. Yea, but beauty muſt be obeyed, becauſe it is beauty: yet framed of the gods to féed the eye, not to fetter the heart.

Ah, but he that ſtriueth againſt loue, ſhooteth with them of Scyrum againſt the wind, and with the Cockatrice pecketh againſt the ſteele. I will therefore obey, becauſe I muſt obey. Fawnia yea Fawnia ſhall be my fortune, in ſpight of fortune. The gods aboue diſdaine not to loue women beneath. Phoebus liked Daphne; Iupiter, Io: and why not 3 then Fawnia? one ſomething inferiour to theſe in birth, but farre ſuperiour to them in beauty: borne to be a Shepheardeſſe, but worthy to be a goddeſſe.

Ah, Doraſtus, wilt thou forget thy ſelfe, as to ſuffer affection to ſuppreſſe wiſdome, and loue violate thine honour? How ſowre will thy choice be to thy father, ſorrowfull to thy ſubiects, to thy friends a griefe, moſt gladſome to thy foes? Subdue then thy affection, and ceaſe to loue her whom thou couldeſt not loue, vnleſſe blinded with too much loue? Tuſh, I talke to the wind, & in ſéeking to preuent the cauſes, I further the effects, I will yet praiſe Fawnia, honour, yea and loue Fawnia, and at this day follow content, not councell. Doe Doraſtus, thou canſt repent: and with that his Page came into the chamber: whereupon hee ceaſed from complaints, hoping that time would weare out that which fortune had wrought. As thus he was pained, ſo poore Fawnia was diuerſly perplexed. For the next morning getting vp very early, ſhe went to her ſhéepe, thinking with hard labours to paſſe away her new conceiued amours, beginning very buſily to driue them to the field, and then to ſhift the folds. At laſt, wearied with toyle, ſhe ſate her downe, (where poore ſoule) ſhe was more tyred with fond affection. For loue began to aſſault her, inſomuch that as ſhe ſate vpon the ſide of a hill, ſhe began to accuſe her owne folly in theſe termes.

IN fortunate Fawnia, And therefore infortunate, becauſe Fawnia, thy Shepheards hook ſheweth thy poore eſtate, thy proud deſires an aſpiring mind: the one declareth thy want, the other thy pride. No baſtard Hawke muſt ſore ſo high as the Hobby, no fowle gaze againſt the Sun but the Eagle: Actions wrought againſt nature, reape deſpight: and thoughts aboue fortune, diſdaine.

Fawnia thou art a Shepheardeſſe, daughter to poore Porrus: if thou reſt content with this, thou art like to stand if thou climb, thou art like to fall. The hearbe Anita growing higher then ſix inches, becommeth a weed. Nilus flowing more then twelue cubits procureth a dearth. Daring affections that paſſe meaſure, are cut ſhort by time or fortune. Suppreſſe then Fawnia thoſe thoughts which 〈…〉 ſhame to expreſſe. But ah, Fawnia, Loue is a Lord who will command by power and conſtraine by force.

Doraſtus, ah Doraſtus is the man I loue: the worſe is thy hap, and the leſſe cauſe haſt thou to hope. Will Eagles catch at flyes? Will Cedars ſtoope at Brambles? Or mighty Princes looke at ſuch homely Truls? No, no, thinke this Doraſtus, diſdaine is greater then thy deſire. He is a Prince, reſpecting his honour: Thou a beggars brat forgetting thy calling. Ceaſe then not onely to ſay, but to thinke to loue Doraſtus; and diſſemble thy loue, Fawnia. For better it were to die with griefe then to liue with ſhame. Yet in deſpight of Loue, I will ſigh to ſée if I can ſigh out Loue. Fawnia, ſome what appeaſing her griefes with theſe pithy perſwaſions, began after her wonted manner to walke about her ſheep, and to kéepe them from ſtraying into the Corne, ſuppreſſing her affection with the due conſideration of her baſe eſtate, and with impoſſibilities of her loue, thinking it were frenzy (not fancy) to couet that which the very deſtinies deny her to obtaine.

But Doraſtus was more impatient in his paſſions: for loue ſo fiercely aſſailed him, that neither company, nor Muſicke could mitigate his martyrdome: but did rather farre the more increaſe his malady. Shame would not let him craue counſell in this caſe: nor feare of his fathers diſpleaſure, reueale it to any ſecret friend: but he was faine to make a ſecretary of himſelfe, and to participate his thoughts with his owne troubled mind. Lingring thus a while in doubtfull ſuſpence, at laſt ſtealing ſecretly from the Court without either men or Page, hée went to ſée if he could eſpie Fawnia walking abroad in the field. But, as one hauing a great deale more skill to retriue the Partridge with the Spaniels then to hunt aſter ſuch a ſtrange prey, he ſought, but was little the better. Which croſſe-lucke draue him into a great choller that hee began both to accuſe Loue and Fortune: But as hee was ready to retyre, he ſaw Fawnia ſitting all alone vnder the ſide of an hill, making a Garland of ſuch homely flowers as the fields did affoord. This ſight ſo reuiued his ſpirits that he drew high, with more iudgement to make a view of her ſingular perfection: which he found to be ſuch▪ as in that Countrey attyre ſhee ſtained all the Courtly Dames of Sicilia. While thus he ſtood gazing with piercing lookes on her ſurpaſſing beauty, Fawnia caſt her eye aſide, and eſpyed Doraſtus. Which ſudden ſight made the poore girle to bluſh, and to dye her chriſtall cheekes with the vermillion red: which gaue her ſuch a grace, as ſhe ſeemed farre more beautifull: and with that ſhe roſe vp, ſaluting the Prince with ſuch modeſt courteſies, as he wondred how a Country maid could affoord ſuch comely behauiour. Doraſtus repaying her courteſie with a ſmiling countenance, began to parle with her on this manner.

FAire maid (quoth he) either your want is great, or a Shepheards life is very ſwéet, that your delight is in ſuch country labours. I cannot conceiue what pleaſures you ſhould take, vnleſſe you meane to imitate the Nymphs, being your ſelfe ſo like a Nymph. To put me out of this doubt, ſhew me what is to be commended in a Shepheards life, and what pleaſures you haue to counteruaile theſe drudging labours. Fawnia, with bluſhing face, made him this anſwer.

SIr, what richer ſtate then content? or what ſwéeter life then quiet? We Shepheards are not borne to honour, nor beholding vnto beauty: the leſſe care wee haue to feare fame or fortune. We count our attyre braue enough, if warme enough, and our food dainty, if to ſuffice nature: our greateſt enemy is the Wolfe: our onely care in ſafe kéeping our flocke: in ſtead of Courtly Ditties, we ſpend the dayes with Country ſongs: our amorous conceits are homely thoughts, delighting as much to talke of Pan and his country pranks, as Ladies to tell of Venus and her wanton toyes. Our toile is in ſhifting our folds and looking to the Lambes, eaſie labours, of ſitting and telling tales; homely pleaſures: our greateſt wealth not to couet: our honour, not to climbe: our quiet, not to care. Enuy looketh not ſo low as Shepheards: Shepheards gaze not ſo high as ambition: we are rich, in that we are poore with content: and proud, onely in this, that we haue no cauſe to be proud.

THis witty anſwer of Fawnia, ſo inflamed Doraſtus fancy that he commending himſelfe for making ſo good a choyſe: thinking, if her birth were anſwerable to her wit and beauty; that ſhee were a fit mate for the moſt famous Prince in the world. Hee therefore began to ſift her more narrowly on this manner.

FAwnia, I ſée thou art content with country labours, becauſe thou knoweſt not Courtly pleaſures: I commend thy wit, and pitty thy want. But wilt thou leaue thy fathers Cottage, and ſerue a Courtly miſtreſſe?

Sir (quoth ſhe) beggers ought not to ſtriue againſt fortune, nor to gaze againſt honour, leaſt either their fall be greater, or they become blind. I am borne to toyle for the Court not in the Court: my nature vnfit for their nature: better liue in meane degrée, then in high diſdaine.

Well ſaid, Fawnia (quoth Doraſtus) I geſſe at thy thoughts, thou art in loue with ſome country Shepheard.

No ſir (quoth ſhe) Shepheards cannot loue, that are ſo ſimple and maids may not loue, that are ſo young.

Nay therefore (quoth Doraſtus) maids muſt loue becauſe they are young: for Cupid is a child, and Venus, though old, is painted with freſh colours.

I grant (ſaid ſhe) age may be painted with new ſhadowes, and youth may haue imperfect affections: but, what art concealeth in one, ignorance reuealeth in another. Doraſtus ſéeing Fawnia hold him ſo hard, thought it was vaine ſo long to beate about the buſh: therefore he thought to haue giuen her a freſh charge; but he was ſo preuented by certaine of his men, who miſſing their matter, came poſting to ſeeke him, ſéeing that he was gone forth all alone: yet before they drew ſo nigh, that they might heare their talke, he vſed theſe ſpéeches.

Why, Fawnia, perhaps I loue thée, and then thou muſt néeds yeeld: for thou knoweſt I can command and conſtraine. Tuſh Sir (quoth ſhe) but not to loue, for conſtrained loue is force, not loue: And know this, Sir, mine honeſty is ſuch, as I had rather dye, then be a Concubine, enen vnto a King: and my birth is ſo baſe, as I am vnfit to be a wife vnto a poore Farmor. Why then (quoth he) thou canſt not loue Doraſtus. Yes, ſaid Fawnia, when Doraſtus becomes a Shepheard. And with that, the preſence of his men broke off their parle, ſo that hee went with them to the Pallace, and left Fawnia, ſitting ſtill on the hill ſide: who ſéeing that the night drew on, ſhifted her Folds and buſied her ſelfe about other worke, to driue away ſuch fond fancies as began to trouble her braine. But all this could not preuaile; for the beauty of Doraſtus had made ſuch a déepe impreſſion in her heart as it could not be worne out without cracking, ſo that ſhe was faine to blame her owne folly in this wife.

AH Fawnia why doſt thou gaze againſt the Sunne, or catch at the wind? Starres are to be looked at with the eye, not reached at with the hand: thoughts are to be meaſured by fortunes, not by deſires▪ falls comes not by ſitting low, but by climing too high. What then ſhall all feare to fall, becauſe ſome hap to fall? No, lucke commeth by Lot, and Fortune windeth thoſe threeds which the Deſtinies ſpin. Thou art fauoured, Fawnia, at a Prince, and yet thou art ſo fond to reiect deſired fauours. Thou haſt deniall at thy tongues end, and deſire at thy hearts bottome. A womans fault, to ſpurne at that with her foot, which ſhe greedily catcheth at with her hand. Thou loueſt Doraſtus, Fawnia; and yet ſeemeſt to lowre. Take heed, if he retire thou wilt repent▪ for vnleſſe he loue, thou canſt but dye. Dye then Fawnia▪ for Doraſtus doth but ieſt. The Lion neuer preyeth on the Mouſe: nor doe Fawlcons ſtoop to dead ſtales. Sit downe then in this ſorrow: ceaſe to loue and content thy ſelfe, that Doraſtus wi • l vouchſafe to flatter Fawnia, though not to fancy Fawnia. Heigh hoe: Ah foole, it were ſéemlier for thée to whiſtle as a Shepheard, then to ſigh as a Louer: and with that ſhe ceaſed from theſe perplexed paſſions, folding her ſhéep, and hying home to her poore Cottage. But ſuch was the vnconſtant ſorrow of Doraſtus, to thinke on the wit and beauty of Fawnia, and to ſée how fond he was, being a Prince: and how froward ſhe was being a begger: that he began to loſe his wonte dappetite: to looke pale and wan: in ſtead of mirth, he fed on melancholly: for Courtly dances, to vſe cold dumps. Inſomuch that not onely his owne men, but his father, and all the Court began to maruell at his ſudden change, thinking that ſome lingring ſickneſſehad brought him into this ſtate. Wherefore hée cauſed Phyſicians to come. But Doraſtus neither would let them miniſter, nor ſo much as ſuffer them to ſée his vrine: but remained ſtill ſo oppreſſed with theſe paſſions as hee feared in himſelfe a further inconuenience. His honour wiſhed him to ceaſe from ſuch foſly: but loue forced him more to follow fancy; yea, and in deſpight of honour, Loue won the conqueſt, ſo that his hot deſires cauſed him to find new deuices. For he preſently made himſelfe a Shepheards Coate, that hée might goe vnknowne, and with leſſe ſuſpition, to prattle with Fawnia; and conueied it ſecretly into a thicke Groue, hard adioyning to the Palace: whither, finding fit time and opportunity, he went all alone, and putting off his Princely apparell, got on thoſe Shepheards robes, and taking a great hooke in his hand (which hée alſo had gotten) hée went very anciently to finde out the Miſtreſſe of his affection. But as he went by the way, ſéeing himſelfe clad in ſuch vnſéemely rags, hée began to ſmile at his owne folly, and to reproue his fondneſſe in theſe termes.

VVEll ſaid, Doraſtus, thou kéepeſt a good decorum, baſe deſires, and homely attires; thy thoughts are fit for none but a Shéepheard, and thy apparell ſuch onely as becomes a Shepheard. A ſtrange change, from a Prince to a Peaſant. What, is it thy wretched fortune or thy wilfull folly? Is it thy curſed Deſtinies, or thy crooked deſires that appoint thee this penance: Ah, Doraſtus, thou canſt but loue, and vnleſſe thou loue, thou art like to periſh for loue. Yet, fond foole, chuſe flowers, not wéeds: Diamonds, not Pebbles: Ladies which may honour thée, not Shepheards, which may diſgrace thée. Venus is painted in ſilkes, not in ragges, and Cupid treadeth on diſdaine, when he reacheth at Dignity. And yet Doraſtus, ſhame not at thy Shepheards wéed: the heauenly gods haue ſometime earthly thoughts: Neptune became a Ram: Iupiter a Bull: Apollo a Shepheard: they gods, and yet in loue: and thou a man appointed to loue.

Deuiſing thus with himſelfe, hée drew nigh to the place where Fawnia was keeping her ſheepe: who caſting her eye aſide, and ſeeing ſuch a manerly Shepheard, perfectly limmed, and comming with ſo good a pace, ſhée began halfe to forget Doraſtus, and to fauour her pretty ſhepheard, whom ſhe thought ſhe might both loue & obtaine. But as ſhe was in theſe thoughts ſhe perceiued then it was the young Prince Doraſtus; wherefore the roſe vp, and reuerently ſaluted him. Doraſtus taking her by the hand, repayed her courteſie with aſwéet kiſſe, and praying her to ſit downe by him, hee began thus to lay the battery.

IF thou maruell, Fawnia at my ſtrange attire, thou wouldſt more muſe at my vnaccuſtomed thoughts: the one diſgraceth but my outward ſhape: the other diſturbeth my inward ſenſes: I loue Fawnia, and therefore what loue liketh, I cannot miſlike. Fawnia thou haſt promiſed to loue, and I hope thou wilt performe no leſſe. I haue fulfilled thy requeſt, and now thou canſt not but grant my deſire. Thou wert content to loue Doraſtus, when hee ceaſt to be a Prince, and became a Shepheard: and ſée I haue made a change, and therefore not to miſſe of my choyce.

TRuth, quoth Fawnia: But all that weare Cowles, are not Monkes. Painted Eagles are pictures, not Eagles: Zeuxis Grapes were like Grapes, yet ſhaddowes; rich cloathing make not Princes, nor homely attire beggers: Shepheards are not called Shepheards, becauſe they weare hooks & bags, but they are borne poore, and liue to keepe ſheepe: ſo this attire hath not made Doraſtus a Shepheard, but to ſéeme like a Shepheard.

WEll Fawnia, anſwered Doraſtus, were I a Shepheard I could not but like thée; being a Prince, I am forced to loue thee. Take héede Fawnia, bee not proud of beauties painting; for it is a flower that fadeth in the bloſſome. Thoſe which diſdaine in youth, are deſpiſed in age. Beauties ſhadowes are trickt vp with times colours, which being ſet to dry in the Sunne, are ſtained with the Sunne, ſcarce pleaſing the ſight: yet they begin not to be worth the ſight: not much vnlike the hearbe Ephymeton, which flouriſheth in the morning, and is withered before the Sunne ſetting. If my deſire were againſt loue, thou mighteſt iuſtly deny me by reaſon: but I loue thée, Fawnia, not to miſuſe thée as a Concubine, but to vſe thée as my wife; I can promiſe no more, and meane to performe no leſſe.

Fawnia hearing this ſolemne proteſtation of Doraſtus, could no longer withſtand the aſſault, but yéelded up the fort, in theſe friendly termes.

AH, Doraſtus, I ſhame to expreſſe that thou forceſt me with thy ſugred ſpéech to confeſſe: my baſe birth cauſeth the one, and thy high dignities the other. Beggers thoughts ought not to reach as farre as Kings, and yet my deſires reach as high as Princes. I dare not ſay, Doraſtus, I loue thée, becauſe I am a Shepheardeſſe: but the gods know, I haue honoured Doraſtus (pardon if I ſay amiſſe) yea, and loued Doraſtus, with ſuch dutifull affection, as Fawnia can performe, or Doraſtus deſire: I yeeld, not ouercome with prayers but with loue: reſting Doraſtus hand-maid, ready to obey his will, if no preiudice at all to his honour, nor my credit.

DOraſtus hearing this friendly concluſion of Fawnia, embraced her in his armes, ſwearing that neither diſtance, time, nor aduerſe fortune, ſhould diminiſh his affection: but that in deſpight of the deſtinies hee would remaine faithfull to death. Hauing thus plight their troth each to other, ſeeing they could not haue the full fruition of their loue in Sicilia, for that Egiſtus conſent would neuer be granted to ſo meane a match: Doraſtus determined, as ſoone as time and opportunity would giue him leaue, to prouide a great maſſe of mony, and many rich and coſtly Iewels, for the eaſier carriage; and then to tranſport themſelues and their Treaſure into Italy, wherethey ſhould lead a contented life, vntill ſuch time as either hée could be reconciled to his father, or elſe by ſucceſſion come to the Kingdome. This deuice was greatly praiſed of Fawnia: for ſhee feared, if the King his father ſhould but heare of the contract, that his fury would be ſuch, as no leſſe than death ſhould ſtand for payment. Shée therefore told him, that delay bred danger: that many miſhappes did fall out betwéene the cup and lip; and that to auoyd danger, it were beſt with as much ſpéede as might be, to paſſe out of Sicilia, leaſt fortime might preuent their patience with ſome new deſpight. Doraſtus, whom loue pricked forward with deſire, promiſed to diſpat • h his affaires with as great haſte, as either time or opportunity would giue him leaue: and ſo reſting vpon this point after many embracings and ſwéet kiſſes, they departed. Doraſtus, hauing taken his leaue, of his beſt beloued Fawnia went to the Groue where he had his rich apparell, and there vncaſing himſelfe as ſecretly as might be, hiding vp his Shepheards attyre, till occaſion ſhould ſerue againe to vſe it, hée went to the Palace, ſhe wing by his merry countenance, that either the ſtate of his body was amended, or the cauſe of his minde greatly addreſſed. Fawnia, poore ſoule, was no leſſe ioyfull, that being a Shepheardeſſe, fortune had fauoured her ſo, as to reward her with the loue of a Prince: hoping in time to be aduanced from the daughter of a poore Farmour, to be wife to rich a King. So that ſhe thought euery houre ayéere, till by their departure they might preuent danger: not ceaſing ſtill to goe euery day to her ſheepe: not ſo much for the care of the flocke, as for the deſire ſhe had to ſée her Loue and Lord, Doraſtus: who oftentimes, when opportunity would ſerue, repaired thither to feed his fancy with the ſwéet content of Fawnia's preſence. And although hée neuer went to viſite her, but in theſe Shepheards ragges, yet his oft repayre made him not onely ſuſpected, but knowne to diuers of their neighbours: who for the good will they bare to old Porrus, told him ſecretly of the matter, wiſhing him to kéepe his daughter of home, leſt ſhee went ſo long to the field, that ſhe brought him home a young ſonne. For they feared that Fawnia being ſo beautifull, the young Prince would allure her to folly. Porrus was ſtricken in a dumpe at theſe newes, ſo that thanking his neighbours for their good will, he hyed him home to his wife: and calling her aſide, wringing his hands and ſhedding forth teares hee brake the matter to her in theſe termes.

I Am afraid, wife, that my daughter Fawnia hath made her ſelfe to ſinne, that ſhe will buy repentance too déere, I haue newes, which if they be true, ſome will wiſh they had not proued true. It is told me by my neighbours, that Doraſtus the Kings ſonne, begins to looke at our daughter Fawnia: which if it be ſo, I will not giue her a halfe-peny for her honeſty at the yéeres end. I tell thée, wife, now a dayes beauty is a great ſta • e to trap young men, and faire words and ſwéet promiſes are two great enemies to maides honeſty: and thou knoweſt▪ where poore intreat, and cannot obtaine, there Princes may command, and will obtaine. Though Kings ſonnes daunce in nets they may not bee ſéene: yet poore mens faults are eſpied at a little hole. Well, it is a hard care where Kings luſts are lawes, and that they ſhould bind poore men to that which they themſelues wilfully breake.

Peace, husband (quoth his wife) take heed what wee ſay: Speake no more then you ſhould, leaſt you heare what you would not. Great ſtreames are to be ſtopped by ſleight, not by force: and Princes to be perſwaded by ſubmiſſion, not by rigour. Doe what you can, but no more then you may, leaſt in ſauing Fawnia's maiden-head, you loſe your owne head. Take heed, I ſay, it is ill ieſting with edged tooles, and bad ſporting with Kings The Wolfe had his skin pulled ouer his eares, for but looking into the Lyons den.

Tuſh, wife (quoth he) thou ſpeakeſt like a foole: If the King ſhould know that Doraſtus had gotten our daughter with child (as I feare it will fall out little better) the Kings fury would be ſuch, as no doubt we ſhould both loſe our goods and liues: neceſſity therefore hath no law, and I will preuent this miſchiefe with a new deuice that is come into my head, which ſhall neither offend the King, nor diſpleaſe Doraſtus. I meane to take the chaine and the Iewels that I found with Fawnia, and carry them to the King; letting him then to vnderſtand, how ſhee is none of my daughter, but that I found her beaten vp with the water alone in a little boat, wrapped in a rich mantle, wherein was incloſed this treaſure. By this meanes, I hope the King will take Fawnia into his ſeruice, and wee, whatſoeuer chance ſhall be blameleſſe. This deuiſe pleaſed the good-wife very well, ſo that they determined as ſoone as they might know the King at leiſure, to make him priuy to this caſe.

In the meane time, Doraſtus was not ſlacke in his affaires, but applied his matters with ſuch diligence, that he prouided all things fit for their iourney. Treaſure and Iewels he had gotten great ſtore, thinking there was no better friend then mony in a ſtrange Countrey. Rich attire he had prouided for Fawnia: and becauſe hee could not bring the matter to paſſe without the helpe and aduice of ſome one, he made an old ſeruant of his called Capnio, who had ſerued him from his child hood, priuy to his affaires: who, ſéeing no perswaſions could preuaile to diuert him from his ſetled determination gaue his conſent, and dealt ſo ſecretly in the cauſe, that within ſhort ſpace he had gotten a ſhip ready for their paſſage. The Marriners ſéeing a fit gale of winde for their purpoſe, wiſhed Capnio to make no delayes, leſt if they pretermitted this good weather, they might ſtaylong ere they had ſuch a faire wind. Capnio fearing that his negligence ſhould hinder their iourney, in the night time conueyed the truncks full of treaſure into the ſhip, and by ſecret meanes let Fawnia vnderſtand, that the next morning they meant to depart. She vpon theſe newes ſlept very little that night, but got her vp very early, and went to her ſhéepe, looking euery minute when ſhe ſhould ſée Doraſtus: who tarryed not long, for feare delay might breed danger: but came as faſt as he could gallop, and without any great circumſtance tooke Fawnia vp behind him, and rode to the hauen where the ſhip lay, which was thrée quarters of a mile diſtant from that place. He no ſooner came there, but the Marriners were ready with their cock-boat to ſet them aboord: where being coucht together in a Cabbin they paſt away the time in recounting their old loues, till their man Capnio could come.

Porrus, who had heard that this morning the King would go abroad to take the ayre, called in haſte to his wife, to bring him his holi-day-hoſe, and his beſt Jacket, that he might goe like an honeſt ſubſtantiall man to tell his tale. His wiſe a good cleanly wench, brought him all things fit and ſpunged him vp very hanſomely, giuing him a chaine and the iewels in a little box: which Porrus for the more ſafety put in his boſome. Hauing thus his trinkets in a readineſſe, taking his ſtaffe in his hand he bade his wife kiſſe him for good lucke, and ſo he went towards the Palace. But as he was going, Fortune (who meant to ſhe whim a little falſe play) preuented his purpoſe in this wiſe.

He met by chance in his way Capnio, who trudging as faſt as he could, with a little coffer vnder his arme to the ſhip, and ſpying Porrus, whom hee knew to bee Fawnia's father going towards the Palace: being a wylie fellow, began to doubt the worſt, and therefore croſt him the way and asked him whither he was going ſo early in the morning.

Porrus (who knew by his face that he was one of the Court) meaning ſimply, told him that the Kings ſonne Doraſtus dealt hardly with him: for he had but one daughter, who was a little beautifull, and that his neighbours told him, the yong Prince had allured her to folly: he went therefore now to complaine to the King how greatly he was abuſed.

Capnio (who ſtraight way knew the whole matter) began to ſooth him in his talke, and ſaid, that Doraſtus dealt not like a Prince, to ſpoyle any poore mans daughter in that ſort: hée therefore would doe the beſt for him he could, becauſe he knew he was an honeſt man. But (quoth Capnio) you looſe your labour in going to the Palace: for the King meanes this day to take the ayre of the ſea, and to goe aboord of a ſhip that lyes in the hauen: I am going before, you ſée, to prouide all things in a readineſſe: and if you will follow my counſell, turne backe with me to the hauen where I will ſet you in ſuch a fit place, as you may ſpeake to the King of your pleaſure. Porrus giuing credit to Capnio's ſmooth tales, gaue him a thouſand thanks for his friendly aduice, and went with him to the hauen, making all the way his complaint on Doraſtus; yet concealing ſecretly his chaine and the Iewels. As ſoone as they were come to the ſea-ſide, the Marriners ſéeing Capnio, came to land with their cocke-boat: who ſtill diſſembling the matter, demanded of Porrus, if hee would goe ſée the ſhip: who vnwilling, and fearing the worſt, becauſe hee was not well acquainted with Capnio, made his excuſe that he could not brooke the ſea, and therefore would not trouble him.

Capnio, ſéeing that by faire meanes he could not get him aboord commanded the Marriners that by violence they ſhould carry him into the ſhip, who like ſturdy knaues holſted the poore Shepheard on their necks, and bearing him to the boat lanched from the land.

Porrus ſeeing himſelfe ſo cunningly betrayed, durſt not cry out, for hee ſaw it would not preuaile: but began to intreate Capnio, and the Marriners to be good to him, and to pitty his eſtate, hee was but a poore man that liued by his labour: they laughing to ſee the Shepheard ſo affraid, made as much haſt as they could to ſet him aboord. Porrus was no ſooner in the ſhip but he ſaw Doraſtus walking with Fawnia, yet he ſcarce knew her: for ſhee had attyred her ſelfe in rich apparell, which ſo increaſed her beauty, that ſhe reſembled rather an Angell, than a creature.

Doraſtus and Fawnia, were halfe aſtoniſhed to ſee the old Shepheard; maruelling greatly what wind had brought him thither, till Capnio told them all the whole diſcourſe: how Porrus was going to make his complaint to the King, if by pollicy he had not preuented him; and therfore now ſith he was aboord, for the auoiding of further danger, it were beſt to carry him into Italy.

Doraſtus, praiſed greatly his mans deuice, and allowed of his counſell: but Fawnia, (who ſtill feared Porrus as her father) began to bluſh for ſhame, that by her meanes he ſhould either incurre danger or diſpleaſure.

The old Shepheard hearing this hard ſentence: that he ſhould on ſuch a ſuddaine be carried from his wife, his Country and kinsfolke, into a forraigne Land among ſtrangers began with bitter teares to make his complaint, and on his knees to intreat Doraſtus, that pardoning his vnaduiſed folly, he would giue him leaue to goe home: ſwearing that he would keepe all things as ſecret as he could wiſh. But theſe proteſtations could not preuaile, although Fawnia intreated Doraſtus very earneſtly: but the Marriners hoiſted their maine ſailes, weighed anchors, haled into the deepe: where wee leaue them to the ſuccour of the wind and ſeas, and returne to Egiſtus.

VVHo hauing appointed this day to hunt in one of his forreſts, called for his ſonne Doraſtus, to goe ſport himſelfe, becauſe he ſaw that of late he began to lowre: but his men made anſwer that he was gone abroad none knew whither, except he were gone to the groue to walke all alone, as his cuſtome was euery day.

The King willing to waken him out of his dumpe, ſent one of his men to goe ſeeke him, but in vaine: for at the laſt he returned, but find him he could not, ſo that the King went himſelfe to go ſee the ſport: where paſſing away the day, returning at night from hunting, he asked for his ſon, but he could not be heard of, which draue the king into a great choller: whereupon moſt of his Noblemen and other Courtiers poſted abroad to ſeeke him, but they could not heare of him through all Sicilia: onely they miſſed Capnio his man, which againe made the King ſuſpect that he was not gone farre.

Two or thrée dayes being paſſed, and no newes heard of Doraſtus, Egiſtus being fearefull that he was deuoured with ſome wild beaſts, and with that made out a great Troupe of men to goe ſéeke him: who coaſted through all the Country and ſearched in euery dangerous and ſecret place, vntill at laſt they met with a Fiſher-man, that was ſitting in a little couert, hard by the ſea ſide, mending his nets, when Doraſtus and Fawnia tooke ſhipping: who being examined if hee either knew or heard where the Kings ſonne was, without any ſecreſie at all, reuealed the whole matter, how he was ſailed two dayes paſt, and had in his company his man Capnio, Porrus, and his faire daughter Fawnia. This heauy newes was preſently carried to the King, who halfe dead for ſorrow, commanded Porrus wife to be ſent for: ſhee being come to the Palace, after due examination, confeſſed that her neighbours had oft told her, that the Kings ſonne was too familiar with Fawnia her daughter: Whereupon her husband fearing the worſt, about two dayes paſt, (hearing the King ſhould goe a hunting) roſe early in the morning, and went to make his complaint, but ſince ſhe neither heard of him, nor ſaw him. Egiſtus perceiuing the womans vnfained ſimplicity, let her depart without incurring further diſpleaſure, conceiuing ſuch ſecret griefe for his ſons wretchleſſe folly, that hee had ſo forgotten his honour and Parentage, by ſo baſe a choice to diſhonour his father, and diſcredit himſelfe, that with very care and thought, he fell into a quartaine feuer: which was ſo vnfit for his aged yéeres and complexion, that hee became ſo weake, as the Phyſicians would grant him no life.

But his ſonne Doraſtus little regarded either father, Countrey or kingdome, in reſpect of his Lady Fawnia: for Fortune ſmiling on this yong nouics, ſent him ſo lucky a gale of wind, for the ſpace of a day and a night, that the Marriners lay & ſlept vpon the hatches: but on the next morning about the breake of the day, the ayre began to ouer-caſt, the winds to riſe, the ſeas to ſwell: yea preſently there aroſe ſuch a fearefull tempeſt, as the ſhip was in danger to be ſwallowed vp in euery ſea; the maine maſt with the violence of the wind, was throwne ouerboord, the ſailes were torne, the tackling rended a ſunder, the ſtorme raging ſtill ſo furiouſly, that poore Fawnia was almoſt dead for feare, but that ſhe was greatly comforted with the preſence of Doraſtus. The tempeſt continued thrée dayes, all which time the Marriners euery minute looked for death, and the aire was ſo darkened with clouds, that the maſter could not tell by the compaſſe in what coaſt they were. But vpon the fourth day about ten of the clocke, the winde began to ceaſe, the ſea to waxe calme, and the skie to be cléere, and the Marriners deſcried the coaſt of Bohemia, ſhooting off their Ordinance for ioy, that they had eſcaped ſuch a fearefull tempeſt.

Doraſtus hearing that they were arriued at ſome Harbour, ſwéetly kiſſed Fawnia, and bade herbe of good chéere. When they told him that the Port belonged to the chiefe Citty of Bohemia where Pandoſto kept his Court, Doraſtus began to bee ſad; knowing that his father hated no man ſo much as Pandoſto, and that the King himſelfe had ſought ſecretly to betray Egiſtus: this conſidered, he was halfe affrayd to goe on Land, but that Capnio counſelled him to change his name and his Countrey, vntill ſuch time as they could get ſome other Barke to tranſport them into Italy. Doraſtus liking this deuice, made his caſe priuy to the Marriners, rewarding them bountifully for their paines, and charging them to ſay, that he was a Gentleman of Trapolonia, called Meleagrus. The ſhip-men willing to ſhew what friendſhip they could▪ to Doraſtus, promiſed to be as ſecret as they could; or he might wiſh: and vpon this, they landed in a little village a mile diſtant from the City: where after they had reſted a day, thinking to make prouiſion for their marriage, the fame of Fawnia's beauty was ſpred throughout all the City, ſo that it came to the eare of Pandoſto: who then being about the age of fifty, had notwithſtanding young and freſh affections: ſo that the deſired greatly to ſée Fawnia: and to bring this matter the better to paſſe, hearing they had but one man, and how they reſted at a very homely houſe he cauſed them to be apprehended as Spies, and ſent twelue of his Guard to take them, who being come to their lodging, told them the Kings meſſage. Doraſtus no whit diſmayed, accompanied with Fawnia and Capnio, went to the Court (for they left Porrus to kéepe the ſtuffe,) who being admitted to the Kings preſence, Doraſtus and Fawnia with humble obeiſance ſaluted his Maieſty.

Pandoſto amazed at the ſingular perfection of Fawnia, ſtood halfe aſtoniſhed, viewing her beauty, ſo that hee almoſt forgot himſelfe what he had to do: at laſt, with ſterne countenance he demanded their names, and of what Country they were, and what cauſed them to land in Bohemia? Sir (quoth Doraſtus,) know that my name is Meleagrus a Knight borne and brought vp in Trapolonia, and this Gentlewoman, whom I meane to take to my wife, is an Italian borne in Padua, from whence I haue now brought her. The cauſe I haue ſo ſmall a traine with me, is, for that her friends vnwilling to conſent, I entended ſecretly to conuey her into Trapolonia, whither I was ſayling, and by diſtreſſe of weather, I was driuen into theſe Coaſts. Thus haue you heard my name, my Country, and the cauſe of my voyage. Pandoſto ſtarting from his Seat, as one in choller, made this rough reply.

MEleagrus, I feare, this ſmooth ta • e hath but ſmall truth, and that thou couereſt a foule skin with faire paintings. No doubt, this Lady, by her grace and beauty, is of higher degrée, more méet for a mighty Prince, then for a ſimple Knight: and thou like a periured traytor haſt bereft her of her Parents, to their preſent griefe, and her enſuing ſorrow. Till therefore I heare more of her Parentage, and of her calling, I will ſtay you both here in Bohemia.

Doraſtus, in whom reſted nothing but Kingly valour, was not able to ſuffer the reproaches of Pandoſto, but that he made him this anſwer.

IT is not meete for a King without due proofe to appeach any man of ill behauiour, nor vpon ſuſpition to inferre beliefe, ſtrangers ought to be entertained with courteſie, not to be entreated with cruelty; leſt being forced by want to put vp iniuries, the gods reuenge their cauſe with rigour.

Pandoſto hearing Doraſtus vtter theſe words, commanded that he ſhould ſtraight be committed to priſon, vntill ſuch time as they heard further of his pleaſure: but as for Fawnia, he charged that ſhe ſhould be entertained in the Court, with ſuch courteſie as belonged to a ſtranger and her calling: the reſt of the ſhip-men put in the Dungeon.

Hauing thus ſo hardly handled the ſuppoſed Trapolonians, Pandoſto contrary to his aged yeeres, began to be ſome what tickled with the beauty of Fawnia, inſomuch that he could take no reſt, but caſt into his old head a thouſand new deuices: at laſt he fell into theſe thoughts.

HOw art thou deſired (Pandoſto) with freſh affections, and vnfit fancies, wiſhing to poſſeſſe with an vnwilling mind, and a hot deſire troubled with a cold diſdaine? Shall thy mind yéeld in age, to that thou haſt reſiſted in youth? Peace Pandoſto, blab not out that which thou maiſt be aſhamed to reueale to thy ſelfe. Ah, Fawnia is beautifull, and it is not for thine honour (fond foole) to name her that is thy captiue, and another mans concubine. Alas, I reach at that with my hand, which my heart would faine refuſe: playing like the bird Ibis in Aegypt, which hateth ſerpents, yet féedeth on their egges.

Tuſh hot deſires turne oftentimes to cold diſdaine: Loue is brittle, where appetite, not reaſon beares the ſway: Kings thoughts ought not to climbe ſo high as the heauens, but to looke no lower then honour: better it is to pecke at the ſtarres with the young Eagles, then to prey on dead carcaſſes with the Vulture: it is more honourable for Pandoſto to dye by concealing loue, then to enioy ſuch vnfit Loue. Doth Pandoſto then loue? Yea, Whom? A maid vnknowne, yea, and perhaps immodeſt, ſtragled out of her owne Country: beautifull, but not therefore chaſte: comely in body, but perhaps crooked in minde. Ceaſe then Pandoſto, to looke at Fawnia, much leſſe to loue her: be not ouertaken with a womans beauty, whoſe eyes are framed by Art to euamour: whoſe heart is framed by nature to inchant: whoſe falſe teares know their due time, and whoſe ſwéete words pierce déeper then ſharpe ſwords. Here ceaſt Pandoſto from his talke, but not from, his loue for although he ſought by reaſon and wiſdome to ſuppreſſe this franticke affection, yet he could take no reſt, the beauty of Fawnia had made ſuch a déepe impreſſion in his heart. But on a day walking abroad into a Parke, which was hard adioyning to his houſe, he ſent by one of his ſeruants for Fawnia, vnto whom he vttered theſe words.

FAwnia, I commend thy beauty and wit, and now pitty thy diſtreſſe and want: but if thou wilt forſake Sir Meleagrus (whoſe pouerty, though a Knight is not able to maintaine an eſtate anſwerable to thy beauty) and yéeld thy conſent to Pandoſto, I will both increaſe thée with dignities and riches. No Sir, anſwered Fawnia, Meleagrus is a Knight that hath wonne me by loue, and none but he ſhall weare me: this ſmiſter miſchance ſhall not diminiſh my affection, but rather increaſe my good will: thinke not though your Grace hath impriſoned him without cauſe, that feare will make me yéeld my conſent: I had rather be Meleagrus wife, and a begger, then liue in plenty, and be Pandoſto's Concubine.

Pandoſto, hearing the aſſured anſwer of Fawnia, would notwithſtanding proſecute his ſuite to the vttermoſt: ſéeking with faire words and great promiſes to ſcale the fort of her chaſtity: ſwearing that if ſhee would grant to his deſire, Meleagrus ſhould not onely be ſet at liberty, but honoured in the Court amongſt his Nobles. But theſe alluring baites could not intice her mind from the loue of her new-betrothed mate Meleagrus, which Pandoſto ſéeing, he let her alone for that time to conſider more of the demand. Fawnia being alone by herſelfe, began to fall into theſe ſolitary meditations.

AH infortunate Fawnia, thou ſéeſt, to deſire aboue fortune is to ſtriue aboue gods and fortune. Who gazeth at the Sun, weakeneth his ſight: They which ſtare at the skie fall of into déep pits: hadſt thou reſted content to haue béen a ſhepheardeſſe, thou néedeſt not to haue feared miſchance: better had it béen for thée, by ſitting low, to haue had quiet, then by climing high, to haue falne into miſery. But alas, I feare not mine own danger but Doraſtus diſpleaſure. Ah ſwéet Doraſtus, thou art a Prince, but now a priſoner, by too much loue, procuring thine own loſſe; haddeſt thou not loued Fawnia, thou hadſt béen fortunate. Shall I then bee falſe to him that hath forſaken kingdomes for my cauſe? • o, would my death might deliuer him ſo mine honour might be preſerued. With that fetching a deepe ſigh, ſhe ceaſed from her complaints and went againe to the Palace enioyning a liberty without content, and proffered pleaſure with ſmall ioy. But poore Doraſtus lay all this while in cloſe priſon, being pinched with a hardreſtraint and pained with the burthen of cold & heauy yrons, ſorrowed ſometimes that his fond affection had procured him this miſhappe, that by the diſobedience of his parent, he had wrought his owne deſpight: another while curſing the gods and Fortune, that they would croſſe him with ſmiſter chance, vttering at laſt his paſſions with theſe words.

AH vnfortunate wretch, borne to miſhap, now ſhyfolly hath his deſert: art thou not worthy for thy vaſe mind, to haue bad fortune? Could the deſtinies fauour thée, which haſt forgot thine honour and dignity? Will not the gods plague him with deſpight that paineth his father with diſobedience? Oh gods if any fauour or iuſtice be left plague me but fauour poore Fawnia, and ſhrowd her from the tyrannies of wretched Pandoſto: but let my death frée her from miſhap, and then welcome death. Doraſtus pained with theſe heauy paſſions, ſorrowed and ſighed but in vaine; for which he vſed more patience.

But againe to Pandoſto, who broyling in the heat of vnlawfull luſt, could take no reſt, but ſtill felt his minde diſquieted with his new loue; ſo that his Nobles and Subiects maruelled greatly at his ſodaine alteration, not being able to coniecture the cauſe of this his continued care. Pandoſto thinking euery houre a yéere till he had talked once againe with Fawnia, ſent for her ſecretly into his chamber: whither Fawnia though vnwillingly comming, Pandoſto entertain'd her very courteouſly, vſing theſe familiar ſpéeches, which Fawnia anſwered as ſhortly in this wiſe.

Pandoſto ſéeing that there was in Fawnia a determinate courage to loue Meleagrus, and a reſolution without feare to hate him, fléeing away from her in a rage, hee ſware that if in ſhort time ſhe would not be won by reaſon, he would forget all courteſie, and compell her to grant by rigour. But theſe threatning words no whit diſmayed Fawnia; but that ſhee ſtill both deſpighted and deſpiſed Pandoſto. While thus theſe two Louers ſtroue, the one to winne loue, the other to liue in hate: Egiſtus heard certaine newes by Merchants of Bohemia, that his ſonne Doraſtus was impriſoned by Pandoſto: which made him feare greatly, that his ſonne ſhould be but hardly intreated: yet conſidering that Bellaria and hée were cleered by the Oracle of Apollo, from the crime wherewith Pandoſto had vniuſtly charged them: hee thought beſt to ſend with all ſpéede to Pandoſto, that hée ſhould ſet frée his ſonne Doraſtus, and put to death Fawnia, and her father Porrus. Finding this, by the aduice of counſell, the ſpeedieſt remedy to releaſe his ſonne, hée cauſed preſently two of his ſhips to be rigged, and thorowly furniſhed with prouiſion of men and victuals, and ſent diuers of his Nobles Embaſſadours into Bohemia: who willing to obey the King, and receiue their young Prince, made no delayes for feare of danger, but with as much ſpéed as might be, ſayled towards Bohemia; the wind and ſeas fauoured them greatly, which made them hope of ſome good hap: for within thrée dayes they were landed: which Pandoſto no ſooner heard of their arriuall, but hee in perſon went to méet them, intreating them with ſuch ſumptuous and familiar courteſie, that they might well perceiue how ſorry he was for the former iniuries he had offered to their King and how willing (if it might be) to make amends. As Pandoſto made report to them how one Meleagrus a Knight of Trapolonia, was lately arriued with a Lady called Fawnia in his Land, comming very ſuſpitiouſly: accompanied onely with one ſeruant, and an old Shepheard: the Ambaſſadours perceiued by the halfe, what the whole tale meant, and began to coniecture that was Doraſtus, who for feare to be knowne, had changed his name. But diſſembling the matter▪ they ſhortly arriued at the Court▪ where after they had béene very ſolemnly and ſumptuouſly feaſted, the Noblemen of Sicilia being gathered together, they made report of their Ambaſſage: where they certified Pandoſto, that Meleagrus was ſonne and heire to the King Egiſtus: and that his name was Doraſtus: and how contrary to the Kings mind he had priuily conueyed away that Fawnia, intending to marry her being but daughter to that poore Shepheard Porrus. Whereupon the Kings requeſt was, that Capnio, Fawnia, and Porrus, might be murthered and put to death, and that his ſonne Doraſtus might be ſent home in ſafety. Pandoſto hauing attentiuely and with great maruell heard their Ambaſſage, willing to reconcile himſelfe to Egiſtus, and to ſhew him how greatly he eſtéemed his fauour, although loue and fancy forbad him to hurt Fawnia, yet in deſpight of loue he determined to execute Egiſtus will without mercy, and therefore hee preſently ſent for Doraſtus out of priſon: who maruelling at his vnlooked for courteſie, found at his comming to the Kings preſence, that which hee leaſt doubted of, his fathers Ambaſſadours: who no ſooner ſaw him, but with great reuerence they honoured him, and Pandoſto embracing Doraſtus, ſet him by him very louingly in a chaire of ſtate. Doraſtus aſhamed that his folly was bewrayed, ſate a long time as one in a maze, till Pandoſto told him the ſumme of his fathers Ambaſſage: which he had no ſooner heard, but he was touched to the quicke, for the cruell ſentence that was pronounced againſt Fawnia: but neither could his ſorrow nor perſwaſions preuaile: for Pandoſto commanded, that Fawnia, Porrus, and Capnio, ſhould be brought to his preſence: who were no ſooner come, but Pandoſto hauing his former loue turned into diſdainefull hate, began to rage againſt Fawnia in theſe termes.

THou diſdainefull vaſſall, thou curriſh kite, aſſigned by the Deſtinies to baſe fortune, and yet with an aſpiring minde gazing after honour: how durſt thou preſume being a begger, to match with a Prince? by thy alluring lookes to inchaunt the ſonne of a King, to leaue his owne Country, to fulfill thy diſordinate luſts? O deſpightfull minde: A proud heart in a begger, is not vnlike a great fire in a ſmall cottage, which warmeth not the houſe, but burneth it: aſſure thy ſelfe thou ſhalt dye: and thou old doting foole, what folly hathbeene ſuch, as to ſuffer thy daughter to reach aboue thy fortune: looke for no other meede, but the like puniſhment. But Capnio, thou which haſt betrayed the King, and haſt conſented to the vnlawfull luſt of thy Lord and Maſter, I know not how iuſtly I may plague thée: death is too eaſie a puniſhment for thy falſhood, and to liue, (if not in extreame miſery) were not to ſhew thée equity. I therefore award, that thou ſhalt haue thine eyes put out, and continually till thou dyeſt, grind in a mill like a brute beaſt. The feare of death brought a ſorrowfull ſilence vpon Fawnia, and Capnio: but Porrus ſéeing no hope of life, burſt forth in theſe ſpéeches.

PAndoſto, and ye noble Ambaſſadours of Sicilia, ſéeing without cauſe I am condemned to die. I am yet glad I haue opportunity to disburden my conſcience before my death, I will tell you as much as I know and yet no more then is true, wheras I am accuſed that I haue béen a ſupporter of Fawnia's pride and ſhée diſdained as a vile beggar; ſo it is, that I am neither father vnto her, nor ſhe daughter vnto me.

For it ſo hapned, that I being a poore Shepheard in Sicilia, liuing by kéeping other mens ſlocks, one of my ſhéep ſtraying downe to the ſea-ſide, as I went to ſeeke her, I ſaw a little boat driuen vpon the ſhore, wherin I found a babe oſ ſixe dayes old, wrapped in a mantle of ſcarlet, hauing about the necke this chaine: I pitying the child, and deſirous of the treaſure, carryed it home, to my wiſe, who with great care nurſed it vp, and ſet it to kéepe ſhéepe. Here is the chaine and Iewels, and this Fawnia is the child whom I ſound in the boat; what ſhe is, or of what Parentage I know not: but this I am aſſured, that ſhe is none of mine.

Pandoſto would ſcarce ſuffer him to tell out his tale, but that he required the time of the yéere, the manner of the boat, and other circumſtances: which when he found agréeing to his count, ſodainely he lept from his ſeat, and kiſſed Fawnia, wetting her tender chéeks with his teares, and crying, My daughter Fawnia, ah my ſwéet Fawnia, I am thy father Fawnia: this ſudden paſſion of the King draue them all into a maze, eſpecially Fawnia and Doraſtus. But when the King had breathed himſelfe a while in this new ioy, he rehearſed before the Ambaſſadours the whole matter, and how hee had entreated his wife Bellaria for Iealouſie, and that this was the child whom he ſent to float in the ſeas.

Fawnia was not more ioyfull that ſhe had found ſuch a father, then Doraſtus was glad he ſhould get ſuch a wife. The Ambaſſadors reioyced that their young Prince had made ſuch a choice: That thoſe Kingdomes which through enmity had long time béene diſſeuered, ſhould now through perpetuall amity be vnited and reconciled. The Citizens and ſubiects of Bohemia (hearing that the King had found againe his daughter which was ſuppoſed dead, ioyfull that there was an heire apparant to the Kingdome) made Bone-fires and ſhewes throughout all the City. The Courtiers and Knights appointed Iuſts and Turneis, to ſignifie their willing mindes in gratifying the Kings hap.

Eightéene dayes being paſt in theſe Princely ſports, Pandoſto willingto recompence old Porrus, of a Shepheard, made him a Knight: which done, prouiding a ſufficient Nauy to receiue him and his retinue, accompanied with Doraſtus and Fawnia, and the Sicilian Ambaſſadours, he ſailed towards Sicilia, where he was moſt princely entertained by Egiſtus: who hearing this Comicall euent, reioyced greatly at his ſonnes good hap, and without delay (to the perpetuall ioy of the two young Louers) celebrated the marriage. Which was no ſooner ended, but Pandoſto (calling to mind how he firſt betrayed his friend Egiſtus, how his iealouſie was the cauſe of Bellaria's death, that contrary to the law of nature, he had luſted after his owne daughter) moued with theſe deſperate thoughts, hee fell in a melancholly fit, and to cloſe vp the Comedy with a Tragicall ſtratagem, he ſlew himſelfe: whoſe death being many daies bewayled of Fawnia, Doraſtus, and his deare friend Egiſtus, Doraſtus taking leaue of his father, went with his wife and the dead corps into Bohemia: where after it was ſumptuouſly intombed, Doraſtus euded his dayes in contented quiet.