CHAPTER. 1. How King Arthur loued faire Angellica the Earle of Londons Daughter: and likewise of the birth of Tom a Lincolne.

WHEN as King ARTHVR wore the Emperiall Diadem of England, and by his chiualrie had purchased ma­ny famous Uictories, to the great re­nowne of this mayden Land, hee or­deined the order of the round Table, and selected many worthy Knights to attend his Maiestie: of whose gliste­ring renowne many ancient Histo­ries doe record, and witnesse to all insuing ages.

This worthy Prince, vpon a time intending to visit the city of London, with some few number of his Knights, came and feasted with Androgius, being at that time Earle of London; whose house (as then) was not only replenished with most de­licate fare, but grat [...]st with a number of beautifull Ladyes: who gaue such a pleasing entertainement to King Arthur and his Knights, that they were rauished with pleasure, and [Page] quite forgot the sound of martiall Drummes, that had wont to summon them foorth to the fields of Honour: Amongst these glorious troupes of London Ladyes, Angellica the Earles daughter had the chiefest prayse for beauty and courtly beha­uiour: for euen as the siluer-shining Moone in a Winters fr [...]sty night, surpasseth the brightest of the twinckling Stars: [...]o farre Angellicaes sweete feature excéeded the rest of the La­dyes: whereby King Arthur was so intangled in the snares of loue, that by no meanes he could withdraw his affections from her diuine excellence. He that before delighted to tread a wea­ry m [...]rch after Bellonas Drummes, was now constrayned to trace Cupids Measures in Ladyes Chambers: and could as well straine the strings of a Louers Lute, as sound a Souldi­ers alarme in the field: her beauty like the Adamant, drew his stéeled heart to lodge in the closure of her breast: and no compa­ny delighted so much the loue-sicke King, as the presence of faire Angellica. So vpon a time as hee stood looking out of his Chamber window, hee espied the Mistris of his soule sitting in a Garden vnder a Bower of Uines, prettily picking the ripest Grapes with her delicate hands, and tooke such pleasant pains in that maydenlike exercise, that the well coloured blood in her face began to ware warme, and her chéekes to obtaine such an excellent beauty, that they séemed like two purple Roses in­termixt with Hawthorne-buds: whereby King Arthur grew inamored vpon her, and stood for a time sencelesse through the extreame passion he tooke in beholding her be [...]uty: But at last, recouering his senses, he spake to himselfe in this manner.

Oh most diuine Angellica, Natures sole wonder, thou ex­cellent ornament of Beauty, thy louely Face painted with a crimson die, thy rosicall Chéekes surpassing Snow in white­nesse, thy decent Necke like purest Iuory, hath like a Fowlers net intangled my yéelding heart: whereby it is for euermore imprisoned in thy breast. Oh that the golden Dresses of thy dainty Haire which shine like the Rubyes, glittering in the Sunne, had neuer twinckled before my rauisht eyes, then had my heart inioyed his wonted liberty, and my Fancie béen frée from Louers vaine imaginations. Thus, and in like manner, complayned the King vnto himselfe, séeking by all meanes [Page] possible to exclude Loues fire from his breast. But the more hee stroue to abando [...] it, the more it increased: and féeling no pollicie might preuaile; but that this burning torment must of force bee quenched with her celestiall loue hee descended from his Chamber, and went bouldly into the Garden; where taking Angellica by the hand as shée sate vpon a bed of Uiolets, which as then grew vnder the Arbour, in this manner began to court her.

Faire of all faires, (sayd the King) deuine and beautious Paragon faire Flower of London, know that since my aboad in thy Fathers house, thy beauty hath so conquered my affecti­ons, and so bereaued me of my liberty, that vnlesse thou vouch­safe to coole my ardent desires with a willing graunt of thy loue, I am like to dye a lan [...]uishing death, and this Countrey England of force must l [...]ose him, that hath filde her boundes with many triumphant Uictories: therefore swéet Angellica, if thy hard heart be so obdurate, that the teares of my true loue may nothing molliffe, yet take pitty on thy Countrey, that through thy cruelty, she loose not her wanton glory, and be made vnhappy, by the losse of her Soueraigne: thou séest (my di­uine Angellica) how I, that haue made Princes stoope, and Kings to humble when I haue frownde, doe now submissiuely yéeld my high honour to thy feete, either to be made happy by thy loue, or vnhappy in thy hate, that in time to come, Children may either blesse, or cu [...]se thee: Of these two, consider which thou wilt performe either with cruelty to kill mee or with cle­mencie to pre [...]eiue mee.

This vnexpected request of the King, so amazed Angellica, that her Cheeks were [...]tayned with blushing shame, and like a bashfull Maiden (for a time) stood silent not knowing in what manner to answere him, considering hee was King of England, and she but Daughter to an Earle: But at last, when feare and shame had a while stroue together in her heart, shee replyed in this sort.

Most mighty King (said shee) if your entertainement in my Fathers house hath beene honourable, séeke not the foule disho­nour of his Daughter, nor proffer to blemish the bud of her virginitie with the least thought of your vnchast desires: the [Page] losse of which swéet Iemme, is a torment to my soule more worse then death. Consider with your selfe (most worthy Prince) the blacke scandall that it may bring vnto your name and honour, hauing a Quéene a most vertuous and loyall Prin­cesse. Thinke vpon the staine of your mariage bed, the wrongs of your wedded phéere, and lasting infamie of your owne glo­ [...]ie, for this I vow (by Dianaes bright maiesty) before I will y [...]ld the conquest of my virginitie to the spoyle of such vnchast desires, I will suffer more torments, then mans heart can ima­gine: therefore (most mighty Soueraigne) cease your vnreue­rend suite, for I will not loose that matchlesse Iewell, for all the treasure the large Ocean containes: And in speaking these words shée departed thence, and left the loue-sicke King in the Arthur, complaining to the emptie ayre: where after hée had numbred many determinations together, this hee purposed; Neuer to cease his suite, till he had gained what his soule so much desired: for continually at the break of day, when [...]irans beautie began to shine, and Auroraes blush to appears. would hee alwayes send to her Chamber window the sweetest Mu­sicke that could bée deuised: thinking thereby so obtaine her Loue. Many times would hee solicite her with rich gifts, and large promises, befitting rather an Empresse then the Daugh­ter of an Earle, profering such kindnes, that if she had a heart of Iron, yet could shee not choose but relent and requite his curtesies: for what is it that time will not accomplish, hauing the hand of a King set thereunto.

Twelue wearydayes King Arthur spent in woing of An­gellica, before hee could obtaine his hearts happinesse, and his soules content: at the end of which time, she was as plyant to his will, as is the tender twig to the hand of the Husbandman. But how their secret meaning required a pollicie to keepe their priuie leues both from King Arthurs Quéene, and from old Androgius, Angellicas Father: and that their secret ioyes might long time continue without mistrust of any partie whatsoeuer, this deuice they contriued: that Angellica should desire liberty of her Father, to spend the remaine of her life in the seruice of Diana, like one that a bandoned all earthly vani­tie, honouring true chastity and religious life: So, with a [Page] den [...]ure countenance, and a sober grace, shee went vnto her Father, and obtained such leaue at his hands, that he willingly condiscended that shee should liue as a professed Nunne, in a Monasterie that the King before time had builded in the Citie of Lincolne; and so furnishing her foorth with such necessaries as her state required, he gaue her his blessing, and so committed her to Dianaes seruice.

But now Angellica being no sooner placed in the Monastery and chosen a Sister of that fellowship, but King Arthur many times visited her in so secret a manner, and so disguisedly, that no man suspected their pleasant méetings: but so long tasted they the ioyes of loue, that in the end the Nunne grew great bellied, and bore King Arthurs quittance sealed in her wombe, and at the end of forty wéekes, shée was deliuered; where in presence of the Midwife, & one more whom the King largly recompen­ced for their secrecy, shee was made a happy Mother of a goodly sonne, whom King Arthur caused to be wrapped in a Mantle of gréene Silke, tying a Purse of Gold about his necke, and so causing the Midwife to beare it into the Fields, and to lay it at a Shepheards gate néere adioyning to the Citie, in hope the old man should foster it as his own: by which means his Angellicaes dishonour might be kept secret from the world, and his owne disgrace from the murmuring reports of the vulgar people.

This his commandement was so spéedily performed by the Midwife, that the very next morning she stole the young Infant from his Mothers kéeping, and bore it secretly to the place ap­pointed, there laying it downe vpon a turffe of gréene grasse: if séemed prettily to smile, turning his christall eyes vp towards the Elements, as though it foreknew his owne good Fortune. This being done, the Midwife withdrew her selfe some little distance from that place, and hid her selfe closely behind a well growne Oake, diligently marking what should betide the com­fortlesse Infant: But long shee had not there remained, but there flocked such a number of little Birdes about the young harmelesse Babe, and ma [...]e such a chirping melody, that it fell into a silent slumber, and slept as swéetly as though it had béen layde in a Bed of softest Silke.

By this time, the golden Sunne began to glister on the [Page] Mountaine top, and his sister Luna to withdraw her waterish countenance: at which time, the pleasant Shepheards began to tune their Morning notes, and to repayre vnto their foulded Shéepe, according to their woonted manner: Amongst which crue of lusty Swaines, old Antonio approached foorth of his Gate with a chearefull countenance, whose Beard was as white as polished Siluer, or like to Snow lying vpon the Nor­therne Mountaines: this bonny Shepheard no sooner espied Angelic [...]es swéet Babe lying vpon the gréene Hillocke, but immediatly hee tooke it vp; and viewing circumspectly euery parcell of the rich Uestments wherein it was wrapped, at last found out the Purse of Gold which the King had tyed vnto the Childs necke, whereat the Shepheard so exceedingly reioyced, that for the time, he stoode as a man rauished with pleasure, and was not able to remoue from the place where he stood: but yet at the last, thinking with himselfe that Heauen had sen [...] him that good fortune, not onely giuing him Riches, but withall a Sonne, to be a comfort to him in his latter yeares; so bearing it in to his old Wife, and withall the Purse of Gold, and the rich Mantle, with the other things: who at the sight thereof, was as highly pleased as her Husband, when he found it first: so being both agréed to foster and bring it vp as their own, con­sidering that Nature neuer gaue them in all their life any child, incontinently they caused it to be thristened, and called by the name of TOM A LINCOLNE; (after the Towne where it was found) a name most fitting for it, in that they knew not whom were his true Parents.

But now speake wee againe of the Midwife, that after shée had beheld how kindly old Antonio receiued the young Infant, shée returned backe unto Angelicaes Chamber, whom shee found bitterly lamenting the losse of her tender Babe, thinking that some Fayry Nimph had s [...]olne it away: but such was the kind comfort which the smooth tonged Midwife gaue her in that extremity, whereby her sorrow seemed the lesse, and her mistrust­full feare exchanged into smiling hope: yet neither would the King nor the Midwife at any time whatsoeuer, make knowne vnto her what was become of her little Sonne, but driuing her off with delayes and fond excuses, lest hauing intelligence of [Page] his abo [...]d, she should (through kinde loue, and naturall affection) goe visite him, and so discouer their Loues practises.

Thus liued the most fayre Angelica many dayes in great griefe, wishing his returne, and desiring Heauen that the De­stinies might be so fauourable, that once againe before the fa­tall Sisters had finished her life, she might behold her Infants face: for whose presence her very soule thirsted for.

Here will we leaue the solitary Lady comfortlesse and with­out company (except it were the King, that sometimes visited herby stealth) and report what happened to Tom a Lincolne in the Shepheards house.

CHAP. II. Of the manner of Tom a Lincolnes bringing vp, and how he first came to be called the Red-rose Knight: with other things that hapned to him.

GReat was the wealth that old Antonio gathered together, by meanes of the Treasure hee found about the Infants attire, whereby hee became the richest in all that Country, and purchast such Lands and Liuings, that his supposed Sonne (for wealth) was déemed a fit match for a Knights Daughter: Yet for all this his bringing vp was but meane, and in a homely sort; (for after he had passed ten yeares of his age hee was set to kéepe Antonioes Shéepe, and to follow Husbandry, whereby he grew strong and hardy, and continual­ly gaue himselfe to painefull endeauours, imagining and deui­sing haughty and great enterprises: yet notwithstanding was of honest and vertueus conditions, well featured, valiant, actiue, quick and nimble, sharpe witted, and of a ripe iudgement: hée was of a valiant and inuincible courage, so that from his Cra­dle and infancie, it séemed he was vowed to Mars, and martiall exploits. And in his life and manners is dec [...]phered the Image of true Nobilitie: for though hee ob [...]curely liued in a Countrey Cottage, yet had he a superious mind, aiming at state and maie­stie, [Page] bearing in his breast the princely thoughts of his Father. For on a time keeping Cattell in the Field amongst other yong men of his age and condition, he was chosen (in sport by them) for their Lord or Knight, and they to attend on him like dutifull Seruants: and although this their election was but in play, yet he whose spirits were rauished with great and high matters, first, procuted them to sweare to him loyalty in all things; and to obey him as a King, where, or when it should please him in any matter to command them: to which they all most willingly condescended. Thus after they had solemnly taken their oathes, he perswaded them to leaue that base and seruile kinde of life, séeking to serue in Warre, and to follow him, being the Gene­rall: the which through perswasion they did, and so leauing their Cattell to their Fathers and Masters, they assembled all together, to the full number of a hundred at the least: vnto whom he seuerally gaue certaine Red Roses, to be worne for colours in their Hattes, and commanded them, that euer after hee should be called the Red-rose Knight. So in this manner departed he with his followers vnto Barnsedale Heath, where they pitched vp Tents, and liued long time vpon the robberies and spoyles of passengers, in so much that the whole Country were greatly molested by them.

This disordered life so highly displeased the Parents of these vnruly Outlawes, that many of them died with griefe: but especially of all other, old Antonio tooke it in ill part, consi­dering how dearely hee lou [...]d him, and how tenderly hee had brought him vp from his infancy: therefore he purposed to prac­tise a meane to call him from that vnciuill kinde of life, if it might possible be brought to passe: so in his old dayes vnder­taking this tasking, hee trauelled towards Barnsedale Heath: into which being no sooner entred, but some of the ruder sort of these Outlawes ceased vpon the old man, and without any fur­ther violence, brought him before their Lord and Captain: who at the first sight knew him to be his Father (as he thought) and therefore vsed him most kindly, giuing him the best entertaine­ment that hee could deuise: where, after they had some small time conferred together, the good old man brake out into these spéeches.

[Page] Oh thou degenerate (quoth he) from natures kind: Is this thy duty to thy fathers age, thus disobediently to liue, [...]cun­ding thy naturall Countrey with vnlawfull spoyles? Is this the comfort of mine age: is this thy loue vnto thy Parents, who [...]e tender care hath béen euer to aduance thy estate: Canst thou behold these milke-white Hayres of mine all to rent and torne, which I haue violently martyred in thy absence? Canst thou indure to see my dim Eyes almost sightlesse through age, to droy downe Teares at thy disobedient féete? Oh wherefore hast thou infringed the Lawes of Nature, thus cruelly to kill thy fathers heart with griefe, and to end his dayes by thy viti­ [...]u [...] life? Returne, returne deare Child, banish from thy breast these base actions, that I may lay, I haue a vertuous Sonne: and be not like the viperous brood, that workes the vntimely death of their Parents. And speaking these words, griefe so excéeded the bounds of Reason, that hee stood silent, and begin­ning againe to speake, teares trickled from his eyes in such a­bundance, that they stayed the passage of his spéech: the which being perceiued by the Red-rose Knight, he humbly sell vpon his knées, and in this sort spake vnto good Antonio.

Most deare and reuerent Lather, if my offence doe séeme o­dious in your eyes, that I deserue no forgiuenesse, then here be­hold now your poore inglorious Sonne, laying his breast open, ready prepared to receiue Deaths remorselesse stroke from your aged hands, as a due punishment for this my disobedient crime: but to be reclaimed from this honorable kind of life (I count it honourable, because it taketh of manhood), first shall the Sun bring day from out the Westerne Heauens, & the siluer Moone lodge her brightnesse in the Easterne waues, and all things else against both kind and nature turne their wonted [...]urse.

Well then (quoth Antonio) if thy resolution bee such, that neither my bitter teares, nor my faire int [...]aties may preuaile to withdraw thy vaine folly, then know (then most vngratious impe) that thou art no Sonne of mine, but sprung from the bowels of some vntanted Tyger, or wild Li [...]nesse, el [...]e wouldst thou humbly submit thy selfe to my reuerent perswasions; from whence thou camest I know not, but sure thy breast harbours the tyranny of some monstrous Tyrant, from whose [...]oynes [Page] thou art naturally descended. Thou art no fruite of my body for I found thee (in thy infancy) lying in the Fields, cast out as a prey for rauening Fowles, ready to bee deuowred by hunger­starued Dogges: but such was my pitty towards thée, that I tooke thee vp and euer since haue fostered thee as mine owne Child: but now, such is thy vnbridled folly, that my kind curte­sie is requited with extreame ingratitude; which sinne aboue all others, the immortall powers of Heauen doe condemne, and the very Diuels themselues doe hate: therefore like a Serpent, henceforth will I spit at thee, and neuer cease to make incessant prayers to the iustfull Heauens, to reuenge this thy monstrous disobedience.

These words being ended, hee gaue such an extreame sigh, that his very heart brake with griefe, and hee immediatly dyed in the presence of the Red-rose Knight, For whose death, hee made more sorrowfull lamentation, then Niobe did for her seuen Sonnes. But in recompence of old Antonioes kind loue, that preserued his infancie from the fury of rauenous Fowles, he intombed him most stately in the Citie of Lincolne, whose body he sent thither by certaine Passengers whom hee had taken, and withall a thousand pound in treasures, to be be­stowed vpon a great Bell to bee rung at his Funerall: which Bell hee caused to bee called Tom a Lincolne after his owne name, where to this day it remaineth in the same Citie: These Passengers being as then rich Merchants of London hauing receiued the dead body of old Antonio, and withall the trea­sure, went with all speed vnto Lincolne, and performed euery thing as the Red-rose Knight had appointed.

The death of this good old man not onely caused a generall sorrow through the whole Citie, but stroke such an extreame griefe to old Antonioes wife, that shee within few dayes yeel­ded her life to the remorcelesse stroke of the frowning destinies, and was buried in the same graue where her Husband was in­tombed: Whose deaths we will now leaue to be mourned by their dearest friends, and likewise for breuities sake, passe ouer many stratagems which were accomplished by the Red-rose Knight & his followers vpon Barnsedale Heath, and returne to King Arthur & his Knights, flourishing in the English Court.

CHAP. III. Of the first Conquest of Portingale by the Red-rose Knight, and how hee was the first that euer triumphed in the Citie of London.

THe report of Tom a Lincolnes practises grew so generall amongst the vulgar sort of people, that at last it came to King Arthurs eares, who imagined in his Princely minde, that he was sprung of his bloud, and that hee carried lofty thoughts of honour planted in his brest, though shrowded vnder a Countrey life: therefore, through kinde nature, hee purposed to haue him resident in Court with him, that hee might daily sée his liuely sparkes of honour shew their resplendant brightnesse, yet in such obscurity, that hee should not know the smallest motion of his Parentage; therefore hee called together thrée of his appr [...]ued Knights, namely Lancelot du Lake, Sir Tristram and Sir [...]amore, and gaue them in charge, if it were possible, to fetch the Red-rose Knight vnto his Court, of whose aduenturous exployts hée hath heard so many times reported: and withall he gaue them generall Pardon, sealed with his priuie Seale, for him and all his lawlesse followers.

This Commission beeing receiued by the three worthie Knights, they with all spéede armed themselues in rich Corse­lets, and strong habiliments of Warre, and so rode towards Bransedale H [...]a [...]h where being no sooner come, and deliuered their message from the King, but the Red-rose Knight gaue them an honourable welcome, and for thrée dayes most royally feasted them vnder large Canuasse Tents▪ wherein they slept as se­curely, as they had béene in King Arthurs Court, or in a strong Castle of warre.

After this, Tom a Lincolne selected out a hundred of his re­solute Followers, such as he best liked of, and came with Sir Lancelot, and the rest to the English Court; where King Arthur [Page] not onely gaue him a friendly entertainment, but also installed him one of his Knights of the Round-table: and withall pre­claimed a solemne Turniament, that should be h [...]lden in the ho­nour of this new made Knight: to which Turniament, assem­ble▪ from other Countries, many Princes, Barons, & Knights of high honour, which behaued themselues most nobly, and woon great commendations of euery beholder: but especially the Red-rose Knight, who for that day, stood as chiefe Champion against all commers. In that Turniament, or first dayes deede of his Knighthood, where onely by his valour and prowesse hee ouer­threw thrée Kings, and thirty other Knights, all famouzed for Chiualry: whereby he obtained such grace in the English Court, that he had by the King a paire of golden Spurres put vpon his féet▪ and generally of the whole assembly, he was accounted one of the brauest Knights that then liued in the world.

But now marke, how frowning Fortune ended their Tri­umphes with vnlucky Newes: for the same day before the Knights had vnbuckled their Armours, there arriued a Mes­senger, who certified King Arthur, how his Ambassadour was vniustly done to death in the Portingale Court, (which was an Act contrary both to the Faith of Princes, and the Law of Armes:) For whose death King Arthur grew so enraged, that he sware by the Honour of his bright Renowne, and by the gol­den Spurre of true Knighthood, the Portingales should repent that inhumane violence, with the death of many thousand guilt­lesse soules; and that Babes vnborne, should haue iust cause to curse the first contriuer of that vniust murther: therefore with all spéede hée mustered vp a mighty Armie of Souldiers, and (because hee was continually molested with home-bred Muti­nies, and treacherous rebellions, the which himselfe in person of force must pacifie) appointed the Red-rose Knight as chiefe Generall ouer the Armie mustered for Portingale. In which Seruice, hée accomplished so many famous Exployts, that hee was for euer after surnamed, The Boast of England. For no sooner had hée the whole Campe in charge, and aboard their Shippes, but hee prooued the perfect Patterne of an exquisi [...]e Souldier: such a one, as all martiall Captaines may learne to imitate: for hée so circumspectly ordered his Captaines, that [Page] in his Campe was neuer knowne any brawle or mu [...]nie. [...]e was very courteous and liberall, doing honour to all men ac­cording to their deserts. He so painfully and with such care in­structed his Souldiers, that at an instant alwayes (if it were needfull) euery man by the sound of a Drumme or a Trumpet, was found in his Charge and Quarter. And (to be briefe) his Campe resembled one of the greatest Cities in the world, for all kind of officers were there found in order: and also a great number of Merchants to furnish it with all manner of necessa­ryes. Hee [...] case permitted any robberies, priuy fighting, force, or violence: but with seuerity punished those that were therein found guiltie. His desire was, that his Souldiers should glory in nothing so much, as in Martiall prowesse, Uer­tue, and Wisedome. He euermore gaue them their pay with­out fraud or deceit. He honoured, he praysed, he imbrac'd and kist them, and withall kept them in awe and subiection: by which meanes his fame and honour grew so renowned, that his Army dayly encreased more and more. For when he first arri­ued vpon the Confines of Portingale, his Campe grew to bee as great as euer was Caesars, when he conquered the Western World, and in matchlesse pro [...]esse nothing inferiour vnto his. So fortunate were his proceedings, that he made a great part of the Prouinces of Portingale desolate not being intercepted by any, but poyling euery Towne and Citie as hee went, vn­till such time a [...] the Portingale King had gathered together a marueilous number os Souldiers, both olde, and of much ex­perience, by reason of the continuall Warres that they had with the [...] Nation adioyning néere vnto them: But when this Portingale King (like an expert Souldier) séeing that no way he might resist the English Army, nor expell them his Countrey, vnlesse he gaue them present Battaile, therefore trusting in his approued Manhood, and the prowesse of his Souldiers, he set his Army in a readinesse and so marched for­ward to méet the Red-rose Knight, and his warlike followers, which at that time had pitched his Campe in a large Cham­pion Plaine, adioyning néere vnto the Citie of [...]shborne, whereas both these Armies met: and setting them in order (as it became good Captaines) there they began (in the breake of [Page] the day) she most cruell and terriblest Battle that euer was heard of, or fought in that age, considering the number of both parties, their experience and pollicy, with the valiant courage and prowesse of their Captaines.

In great danger continued this fight, till the Sun beganne to set, with marueilous [...]laughter on both sides; yet remayned the victory doubtfull, declining neither to the Portingales, nor yet to the English: but at last (though long) the Portingales began to saint and flie; more indeed opprest with she multitude then for any feare they receiued in the Eatte [...] for the most part of them with honour dyed manfully in the Field, some ta­ken prisoners, and the rest fled for their better safety: but now the Portingale King perceiuing his Souldiers begin to flye, with courage hee sought to withdraw them from flight, resisted in person valiantly the furious rage of the enemy: but in that enterprise he gained such and so many knockes, that at last he [...] was vnhorst, and for want of reskew, was forst to yéeld him­selfe as prisoner: whereat the whole armie of the Portingales were discomforted, and the victory fell to the Englishmen: the which being obtayned, the Red-rose Knight with his Armie entred into the Citie of Lishborne; where the common Soul­diers were inriched with wealthy spoyles, and the Kings Pal­lace ran [...]acked by the Red-rose Knight: where hée tooke such prisoners as him best liked, and the rest (like an honorable soul­dier) he set at liberty, commaunding that no violence should be proffered any way:

After this, setting his Army in a readinesse, he marched to­wards England, where after some few dayes [...], hee arri­ued with all his Ho [...]st, in the Westerne parts of Deuonshire, and marching towards London, where against his comming, the Citizens with the Inhabitants of other villages néere ad­ioyning, were that day séene in their most sumptucus and rich attire, euery one of them endeauoring to place himselfe in some Gallery or Window, that the better and with more ease they might behold the triumphant returne of the Red-rose Knight. All the Churches in London were on euery side set open, han­ged round about with most costly forniture: the stréetes were also most gloriously beset with gréene Boughes, and strowed [Page] with Perfumes of no small value: and for the infinite multi­tude of people that were séene in the Citie, there were appoin­ted a hundred Whiflers most richly attyred to kéepe the stréets plaine and open, whereby the triumphs might haue the easier passage: and for that the diuersity of the shewes were so many, that they of necessitie were constrained to part them into three seuerall dayes.

The first day hardly sufficed in good order to bring in the Banners, Standards, and Ensignes of the Conqueror, the gol­den Images, and Tables of price, which were all brought in on C [...]rts very curiously painted and trimmed.

On the second day, came in the Armour of the Conquered King, as also of all the other Portingale Lords: and as they were rich, bright, and glittering, so were they with most cun­ning ordered and couched in waggons. After these entred thrée thousand men, in order, bearing nothing but Money openly to b [...]e seene, and that in huge Platters and Uessels of Siluer; of which were thrée hundred and fiftie in number, and foure of our men allotted to euery vessell: the other brought in most ar­tificiall Tapestry works, beautified with gold and siluer. And thus was the second dayes Triumph ended, in most pompous s [...]lemnitie.

Upon the third day, euen at the rising of the Sunne, with the first Band, entred (as a ioyfull sound of Conquest) an infi­nite number of Flutes, Drummes, and Trumpets, with other like Martiall and Warlike Instruments, sounding not after a most pleasant and swéet manner, but in most terrible sort, as it was possible to be done, euen in such order as they doe, when they presently ioyne Battaile. And after them, came a hun­dred and twentie Kine all white, hauing their Hornes curi­ously gilded with Gold, their bodies couered with Uayles, (which they accompted most sacred and holy) bearing also Garlands of Flowers vpon their Heads, driuen by certaine young Gentlemen, no lesse well fauoured then gorgeously at­t [...]red. After these, followed the Coach of the conquered King of Portingale, with his owne Armour layd thereon openly to bée séene of all men: his Crowne and royall Scepter was layd in seemely order vpon his Armour. After his Coach, [Page] came Prisoners on foot, with his owne naturall Children, being little Infants: and after them followed a great Troup of his Seruants and Officers, as Masters of his Housheuld, Secretaries, Ushers, Controlers, Chamberlaines, with other Gentlemen of his Court, all in a most sorowfull manner, seeing themselues brought into such extremitie and seruitude, that they mooued to companion all such as beheld them. Of the Kings children, there were two Boyes, and one Girle, of age so young and tender, that they had small vnderstanding of their misfortune and misery.

In this triumph followed the Father his owne Children, (after the vsage of his Countrey) clad in black mourning gar­ments, sorrowing likewise for his hard misfortune. Then followed sundry of his approoued Friends: which, beholding in that plight their vnhappy Prince, brake cut into teares and sighes so bitterly, that their enemies themselues grieued at their mishaps.

After these, followed one which carryed certaine precious Stones, that had béen presented to the Red-rose Knight, from some ancient Cities in Portingale, who immediatly followed in person triumphantly in his Iuory Chariot, apparelled in vestures of purple Tissue, hauing a Lawrell bough in his hand, and a Crowne of the same vpon his Head. After him, followed his owne Souldiers, both foot-men, and Horse-men, all march­ing in most decent order, armed with rich Furniture, holding also each of them a Lawrell bough in his hand, their Ensignes and Banners Souldier-like displayed, sounding Martiall Me­lody in honour of their triumphant Captain: with many other like presidents, most royall and magnificent.

Thus in this gallant order marched they to the Kings Chappell, where in the presence of the King and his Lords, (which came to honour and grace their Triumphs) they gaue thanks to God for their succesfull victory: were after solemne Seruice was ended, they departed to King Arthurs Court, where euery one, as well Strangers as others, were most roy­ally feasted.

The Portingale King séeing his kind entertainement in the English Court, where he was vsed more like a Friend, then an [Page] Enemie, had small care to returne home, but [...]rolik'd many a day amongst the English Lords: whose loues vnto strangers be euermore most honourable. But so great were the courtesies that the Noble King Arthur bestowed vpon the Portingales, who for their proffered disgraces, requited them liberally with honour: and not onely sent them home ransomlesse, but promi­sed to lend them ayde and succour from England, if occasion re­quired: So bearing them company to the Sea side, hee most friendly committed them to the mercy of the winds and waues, which were so fauourable, that in short time they arriued safe in their owne Country; where many a day after they remembred the honourable kindnesse of the English-men, and caused the Chronicles of Portingale to record the renowne of King Ar­thur, and hi [...] [...]ts of the Round Table.

CHAP. IIII. How the Red-rose Knight trauelled from the King of Englands Court, and how he arriued in the Fayerie-land, where he was entertained by a Mayden Queene, and what happened to him in the same Country.

NOw, after the Portingales were thus con­quered, and sent home with great honour, the English King and his Lordes, rested themselues many a day in the Bowers of Peace, leau [...]ng their Armours rusting, and their pampered Steedes standing in their Sca [...]les, forgetting their vsuall manner of wrathfull warre: which idle ease greatly discontented the magnanimious Red-rose Knight, who thought it a staine to his passed glory, and a scandall to his Princely mind to entertaine such base thoughts: and considering with himselfe how ignorant hee was of his true Parents, and from whence hee was descended, hee could not imagine: therefore hee purposed to begin a new enterprise, and to trauaile vp and downe the World, till hee had either [Page] found his Father and Mother, or else yéelded his life to Na­tures courle in that pretended Journey: so going to the King, (full little thinking that he was sprung from so Noble a stock) crauing at his Graces hand, to graunt him such liberty, for to try his Knight-hood in forraine Countries, whereas yet did ne­uer Englishman make his aduenture; and so eternize his name to all posterity, rather then to spend his life in such home-bred practises.

To this his honourable request, the King (though loath to forgoe his company, yet because it belonged to Knightly At­tempts) hee gaue him leaue, and withall, furnished him a Shippe at his owne proper cost and charges, giuing free Li­cence to all Knights whatsoeuer, to beare him company: a­mongst which number, Sir Launcelor du Lake was the chie­fest that proferred himselfe to that Uoyage, who protested such loue to the Red-rose Knight, that they plighted their Faiths like sworne Brothers, and to liue and die together in all ex­treamities.

So these two English Knights, with the number of a hun­dred more, all resolute Gentlemen, tooke leaue of the King, and with all spéede went a Ship-boord: wherein being no s [...] ­ner entred, but the Pylot hoysed Sayle and di [...]an [...]hored, and so committed their liues and Fortunes to the pleasure of Nep­tunes mercie: vpon whose [...] Kingdome the [...] ma­ny dayes sayled, but Ae [...]us brazen gates [...]u [...]st open, and the Windes so violently troubled the swelling waues, that euery minute they were in danger, to end their liues in the bottome of the Seas.

Thrée moneths the winde and the waters stroue together for supremacie: during which time, they sawe no land, but were driuen vp and downe, to what place the euer-changing Deste­nies listed: so at last they sayled beyond the Sunne, directed on­ly by the light of the Starres, not knowing which way to tra­uell towards land, but in such extrenity for want of Uictuall, that they were forced to land at a certaine Iland in the We­sterne parts of the world, inhabited onely by women: where being no sooner on land, and giuing God thanks for deliuering them from that mortall perill, but the Red-rose Knight cast vp [Page] his eyes towards the higher parts of the Countrey, and espied more then two thousand women comming foorth at a Citie gate, all most richly armed with Breast-plates of Siluer, marching in trim aray, like an Army of well approoued Souldiers: the which number comming néere to the Sea side, they sent two of their Damsels, as Messengers to the English Knights, willing them, as they loued their liues, presently to retire againe back to the Seas, for that was no Countrey for their abode. But when the Red-rose Knight of England had vnderstoode the hold message of the two Damsels, he was sore abashed (considering the number of armed women he saw before him, and the great dangers they had suffered before on the Sea for want of v [...]u­als) that he knew not in what manner he were best to answere them: but hauing a good courage, hee at last spake to the two Damsels in this sort.

Right Noble Ladies, I haue well vnderstood your spéeches: therefore I desire you for to shew such fauour vnto wandering Trauailers, as to tell vs in what Country Fortune hath brought vs to: and for what cause we are commanded by you to returne to the Sea?

Surely Sir Knight (answered one of the Damsels) this Countrey whereon you are ariued, it is not very bigge, but yet most fertile and commodious; and is called by the name of the Fayrie-Land: And now to shew you the cause why you are commaunded to returne, this it is. Not many yeares agoe, there raigned in this Countrey a King which had to name Larmos, for wisedome and prowesse not his equall was found in any of these parts of the world. This King had such con­tinuall warre against the bordering Ilanders, that vpon a time he was constrained to muster for the same warre all the men both young & old which were found in his Kingdome, whereby the whole Countrey was left destitute of men, to the great dis­conten [...]ment of the Ladies and Damsels that here inhabited: whereupon they finding themselues so highly wronged, liuing without the company of men, they generally assembled them­selues together, with the Daughter of King Larmos, which is called Caelia, no lesse in Beautie, then in Uertue and Wise­dome: These Ladyes and Damosels beeing gathered toge­ther, [Page] with a generall consent, dispatched certaine Messengers to the King, and to their Husbands, willing them to returne into their Countrey, and not to leaue their wiues and children in such extremity, without the comfort and company of man. Upon which, the King answered, that hee had besieged his E­nemies in their Townes of Warre; and before one man should returne home till he came with Conquest, his Country should bee lost and made desolate, and the Women giuen ouer to the spoyle of his Enemies: Which answere, when the Ladies had receiued, they tooke it in such euill part, that they conspi­red against their King, and Husbands, and put to death all the men children that were in the Countrey; and after deter­mined, when their Husbands, Fathers, and Friends returned from the Warre, that they should the first night of their com­ming, bee slaine sléeping in their Beds, and that neuer after they should suffer man to enter into their Countrey. After this conclusion, they crowned Caelia the Kings Daughter for their Quéene: And so afterward, when the King and his Ar­mie returned from his Warres, this bloudy murther was prac­tised, and not a man left aliue, but onely the King reserued, whom Caelia would in no wise against nature murther: but yet notwithstanding, shee deliuered him into the hands of her chiefest Ladies, which put him into a Boat alone, and so sent him to the Sea to seeke his fortune. Therefore most noble Knights, this is the cause, why you may not enter into our Countrey: which if you doe, and not presently withdraw your selues vnto the Sea, the Ladies will suddenly giue you a mer­uailous Battell.

Now by the Euer-liuing [...] which English-men adore, (said the Noble Red-rose Knight) such extremitie haue wee suffered at Sea, that wée are like to perish and dye with hun­ger, vnlesse wée finde some succeur at your hands: and before we will end our liues with famine, we will enter Battell with those Ladies, and so dye with Honour in the Field: yet this kindnesse doe we humbly desire at your hands, to returne vnto your Quéene, and certifie her of our poore estate and necessity, and that we altogether instantly desire her, that if there be any sparke of Uertue, or Nobility harboured in her breast, that shée [Page] will haue pitie vpon vs, and suffer vs not to end our liues by such an unhappy kind of death.

With this request the two Damsels returned to the Quéen and recounted from word to word the humble suit of the Red-rose Knight, and what extremitie they were in: Which when the Quéene vnderstood, and that they were Knights of Eng­land, the fame of which countrey shée had so often heard repor­tes, shée demaunded, what manner of people they were, and of what condition? Surely Madam (answered one of the two Damsels) I neuer in all my life saw more goodly men, nor better spo [...]en: and it is to bée supposed, they bée the choyce of all humane people, and with their courteous demeanors, are able to draive the mercilesse and sauage Nation to af­fect them.

The Quéene hearing the Damsels so highly to commend the English Knights, thinking also vpon their request, be­gan (in minde) to haue pitie of their misaduentures, and so instantly sent for them, and gaue them frée libertie to make their abode in her Countrey: which incontinently when the English Knights heard, how they should receiue a kinde wel­come, and a friendly entertainement, grew so exceeding ioy­full, as though Heauen had sent them present comfort: so com­ming before the Quéene and her Ladyes, they saluted each other most courteously, and with great reuerence. But when the vertuous Quéene behelde this noble company before her, in all humilitie, shée deliuered to a hundred of her Ladies, the hundred English Knights, and reserued the Princely Red-rose Knight vnto her selfe: and so were they brought to the Quéenes Pallace, where euery Lady feasted her Knight in most gallant sort, and to their hearts content. But now when the Quéene had the Red-rose Knight in her Chamber, and had beheld the exceeding beautie of the noble Prince, shée tooke him by the hand, and led him into one of her Chambers, where the shewed him her Riches and Treasure: and after sayd vnto him in this manner.

Most noble and valiant Englishman, these Riches bée all onely at thy Commandement, and also my body, which here I offer vp as a gift and Present to thy diuine excellencie: and [Page] furthermore, there is nothing of value, which I am Mistris of, but shall be at thy disposing, to the intent that my loue may be acceptable to thy gracious eyes. But when the Red-rose Knight perceiued to what intent she spake these words, in this manner answered her, saying.

Most deare Princesse, and faire Quéene of this Maiden coun­trey, I giue you right humble thankes for these your courte­sies, and by no meanes possible may I deserue this high honour you haue grac'd me with.

Oh great Knight (replyed then the Quéene) the smallest thought of your honourable minde, is sufficien [...] [...]o recompence the vttermost of my deserts: yet let me request this one thing at your noble hands, that neuer asked the like fauour of any one before, for she that neuer knew the least motion of loue, is now pricked with a hundred torments: and vnlesse you quench the ardent affection wherwith my heart is fired, with the plea­sant hopes of your comfortable smiles, I am like to die despe­rat, and then the world will accuse you of cruelty, in murdering a consiant Lady: but if it shall please you to grant me loue, and so espouse me according to Himens holy Kites, héere shall you rule sole King, and be the Lord of all this Countrey.

My right deare Lady (answered then the Red-rose Knight) you haue done such pleasure to mée, and to my distressed follo­wers, in preseruing vs from famine, as I shal neuer requite it, though I should spend all the rest of my life in your Seruice, And know (most excellent Princesse) that there is no aduenture so dangerous, yet at your commandement would I practise to accomplish yet for to tye my selfe in Wedlockes bonds, there is no woman in the world shall procure mee: for till I haue fi­nished an Aduenture which in my heart I haue vowed, I will not linke my affection to any Lady in the world. But thinke not (Madam) that I refuse your loue through disdaine: for I sweare by the dignity King Arthur grac [...]d mée with, I should think my selfe most fortunate, if I had so faire and noble a La­dy, as your diuine selfe.

Most worthy Knight (then answered the Quéene) I ima­gine, that the Gods haue sent you into this Countrey for two causes principally: The first is, that you and your followers [Page] should be preserued from death by my meanes: The second is, that you should inhabit in this Countrey least it should in short time be left as a desert wildernesse: for it is inhabited onely by Women without a King, and haue no other Gouernour but me, which am their chiefe Princesse: And for so much as I haue succoured you, so succour you this desolate Citie, that it may be repeopled with your séed: and in so doing, you shall accomplish a vertuous déed, and winne to your names an eternall memory to all ensuing ages.

I confesse (quoth the Red-rose Knight,) that you and your Ladies haue succoured mée and my followers in our great ne­cessitie: and in recompense whereof, wee will imploy all our indeauours to the repeopling againe of this Countrey: But in regard of the secret vow my heart hath made, I will not yéeld my selfe to your desires; for if I should infringe my oath, mine Honour were greatly impaired: And before I would commit that dishonourable fact, I would suffer the greatest tor­ment that mans heart can imagine.

Incontinently, when the loue-sicke Quéene heard this an­swere of the English Knight, and perceiued that he was firme in his purpose, shée tooke leaue of him, and departed for that time, the Red-rose Knight likewise withdrew himselfe into his Chamber, pondring in his minde a thousand imaginations. But shée for her part was so troubled in mind, and so wounded with the Darts of blinde Cupid, that when the mistie darknes of night had couered the earth, shee layd her downe vpon her bed, where betwixt Shame and her Heart, began a ferrible Battell. Her Heart was incouraged, that shée should goe and be with him: but shame began to blush, and withstood that per­swasion; by which meanes the battell was great, and indured a long time: but at last the Heart was conquerour, and shame vanquished and put to flight, in such sort, that the faire Quéene arose from her bed, and went and layd her downe by her belo­ued Knight, where hée slept: and being in the bed, shée began fearefully to tremble, for shame still followed her vnlawfull practises: where after her quiuering heart began a little to be qualified, with her trembling hand she awaked him, and af­ter spake in this manner.

[Page] My most deare and affectionat friend, though like a carelesse wretch I come vnto thée apparelled with Shame, yet let my true Loue colour this my infamous presumption: for your Princely person, and Kingly demeanours, like Adamants haue drawne my stéeled Heart to commit this shamefull acte; yet let not my feruent Affection be required with Disdaine: and although you will not consent to be my wedded Lord and Husband, yet let me bée thy Loue and secret Friend; that a poore distressed Quéene may thinke her selfe happy in an Englishmans loue.

When the noble Knight heard the faire Caelias voyce, and felt her by his side all naked, hee was so sore abashed, that hée wist not what to doe: but yet at last hauing the nature and courage of a man, hée turned to her, vsing many amorous spéeches, imbracing and kissing each other in such manner, that faire Caelia was conceiued with Child. and waxe great of a right faire Sonne: of whom she was in processe of time safe: ly deliuered; as you shall heare discoursed of large in the fol­lowing History.

But to be short, during the space of foure Monethes, the Fayery Ladyes lay with the English Knights, and many of them were conceiued with their séede in such sort, that the Countrey was afterward repeopled with male Children, and what happened amongst them in the meane season, I will passe ouer for this time: for the dayes and nights (that haue no rest) passe on their wonted course: in which time their Shippe was replenished with all necessaries, and the Red-rose Knight summoned together Sir Launcelot and the rest: and being as­sembled, he sayd vnto them.

My good Friends and Countreymen, you know, that long time we haue soiorned in this Countrey, spending our dayes in idle pastimes, to the reproach of our former glories: now my intent is, within these thrée dayes to depart this Countrey, therefore let euery man make himselfe in readines: for there is no greater dishonour to aduenturous Knights, then to spend their dayes in Ladyes bosomes.

When sir Lancelot and the other English Gentlemen heard the forward disposition of the Red-rose Knight, they were all [Page] excéeding ioyfull, and answered him; that with great willing­nesse they would all be ready at the time appointed.

But now, when the Fayerie Ladies perceiued the prepa­rations that the English Knights made for their departure, they grew excéeding sorrowfull, and complained one to another in most grieuous manner: but amongst the rest, the Quéene was most displeased, who with a sorrowfull and sad heart came vnto the Red-rose Knight, and in this manner complayned to him.

Alas, alas, my deare Lord, haue yée that tyrannous heart, to withdraw your selfe from me, and to forsake me before you sée the fruit of your Noble person, which is nourished with my bloud. Deare Knight, behold with pitie my wombe, the cham­ber and mansion of your bloud; Oh let that be a meanes to stay you, that my Child (as yet vnborne) be not fatherlesse by your departure. And in speaking these words, shée began to wéepe and sigh bitterly, and after to whisper secretly to her selfe in this order.

Oh you immortall heauens, how may mine eyes behold the departure of my ioy! for being gone, all comfort in the world will forsake me, and all consolation flie from me: and centra­riwise, all sorrow will pursue mee, and all misfortune come against me. Oh what a sorrow will it be to my scule, to sée thée floting on the dangerous Seas, where euery minute, perils doe arise ready to whelme thée in the bottomlesse Ocean! and being once erempted from my sight, my heart for euermore lie in the bed of tribulation, vnder the coueriure of mortall distresse, and betwéene the shéetes of eternall hewaylings. Yet if there be no remedy, but that theu wilt néedes depart, sweare vnto me, that if euer thou doest accomplish thy pretended boyage, (what it is I know not) that thou wilt returne againe to this Country, to tell mée of thy happy fortunes, and thatmine eyes may once more be hold thy louely countenance, which is as delectable to my soule, as the Ioyes of Paradise.

When the Noble English Knight vnderstoode that the Quéene condescended to his departure, vpon condition of his returne, to which he solemnly protested, if the Gods gaue him life and good fortune, to performe her request: whereby the [Page] Fayrie Quéene was somewhat recomforted: And hauing great hope in the returne of her deare Loue, thée ceased her lamenta­tions. And now (to abridge the Story) the time came that the valiant English-men should goe a Ship-boord: vpon which day, the Red-rose Knight and his followers, tooke leaue of the noble Quéene and her Ladies, thanking them for their kinde enter­tainements, and so went to the Port of the Sea, where they en­tred their Ships, and so departed from the Fayrie Land. After this, when Caelia had borne her Babe in her wombe full forty wéekes, she was deliuered of a faire Sonne, who came after­ward to be called the Fayrie Knight: which for this time wée will not touch, but referre it to the second part of this History.

CHAP. V. What happened to the English Knights, after their departure from the Fayrie Land.

WIth a prosperous Winde sayled these English Knights, many a League from the Fayerie Land, to their great content and hearts desire, where euery thing seemed to Prognosticate their happy Aduentures: so vpon a day when the Sunne shone cleare, and a gentle calme Winde caused the Seas to lye as smooth as Christall Ice, whereby their Ship lay floating on the Waues, not able to re­mooue: For whilest the Dolphins daunc'd vpon the siluer Streames, and the red gild Fishes leapt about the Shippe, the Red-rose Knight requested Sir Lancelot, to driue away the time with some Courtly Discourse, whereby they might not thinke their Uoyage ouer long. Unto which, the good Sir Lancelot most willingly agréed: And although hee was a Martiall Knight, delighting to heare the relentlesse sound of angry Drummes, which thunders threats from a Massaker, yet could hee like an Dratour, as well discourse a Louers Hi­story: therefore requesting the Red-rose Knight, and the other [Page] English Gentlemen, to sit downe and listen to the Tale that followeth.

The pleasant History which Sir Lancelot du Lake, told to the Red-rose Knight, being a Ship-boord.

AT that time of the yeare, when the Birds had nipt away the tawny leaues, and Flora with her pleasant Flowers, had enricht the earth, and encloathed with Trees, Hearbs, and Flowers, with Natures Tapistrie, when the golden Sunne with his glistering Beames did glad mens hearts, and euery Leafe as it were, did beare the forme of Loue, by Nature pain­ted vpon it: This blessed time did cause the Grecian Empe­rour to proclaime a solemne Turnament to bee holden in his Couet, which as then was replenished with many worthy and valiant Knights: but his desire chiefely was, to beholde his Princely Sonne Valentine, to try his Ualour in the Tur­nament.

Many were the Ladies that repayred thither, to beholde the worthy Triumphes of this young Prince: amongst which number, came the beautifull Dulcippa, a Mayden which as then wayted vpon the Empresse, being Daughter to a Coun­trey Gentleman This Dulcippa, like Apollos Flower, be­ing the fayrest Uirgin in that company, had so firmely setled her loue vpon the Emperours sonne, that it was impossible to expell it from her heart. Likewise, his affection was no lesse in feruencie then hers: so that there was a iust equality in their Loues and liking, though a difference in their Birthes and Callings.

This Princely Valentine, (for so was the Emperours Sonne called) entred the Listes in costly Armour most richly wrought with Orient Pearles, his Crest encompassed with Saphire Stones, and in his hand a sturdie Launce. Thus mounted vron a milke-white Stéede, hee vaunted foorth him­selfe to try his warlike force: and in prauncing by and downe, hée many times (thorow his Beuer) stole a view of his sayre Dulciopas face: at which time, there kindled in his Breast two sundry Lampes: the one was to winne the honour of the [Page] day: the other, to obtaine the loue of his Mistresse. On the other side, Dulcippa did nothing but report the valiant arts of his prowesse and chiualrie, in such sort, that there was no other talke amongst the Ladies, but of Valentines honourable attempts.

No sooner was the Turnaments ended, and this loue begun, but Dulcippa departed to her lodging, where sighes did serue as bellowes to kindle Leues fire. Valentine in like manner being wounded to death, still rometh vp and downe to finde a salue for his stanchlesse thirst: so séekes Dulcippa to restore her former liberty: for, she being both beloued, and in loue, knew not the meane to comfort her selfe. Sometime she did exclaime against her wandring eyes, & wished they had bin blind when first they gazed vpon the beauty of Princely Valentine: Some times in visious the beheld his face chéerefull, smiling vpon her counte­nance: and presently againe, shée thought she saw his martiall hands bathed all in purple blood, scorning her loue and former courtesies. With that shee started from her dreaming passion, wringing her tender hands, till flouds of siluer dropping teares trickled downe her face: Her golden haire that had wont to be bound vp in thréeds of gold, hung dangling now about her Iuory necke: the which in most outragious sort she rent and tore, till that her haire which before lookt like burnisht Gold, were died now in purple and Uermillion bloud. In this strange passion remained this distressed Lady, till the Golden Sunne had thrée times lodged him in the Westerne Seas, and the siluer Moone her shining face in the Pallace of the Christall Cloudes. At this time a heauy slumber possessed all her senses: for she, whose eyes before in three dayes, and as many nights, had not shut vp their Closets, was now lockt vp in silent sléepe, lest her heart euer burthened with griefe, by some vntimely manner should destroy it selfe.

But now returne wee to the worthy Valentine, who sought not to pine in passion, but to court it with the best, considering with himselfe, that a faint heart neuer gain'd faire Lady: ther­fore hée purposed boldly to discouer his loue to the faire Dul­cippa, building vpon a fortunate successe, considering that she was but Daughter to a Gentleman, and he a Prince borne, so [Page] attiring himselfe in costly Silkes, wearing in his Hatte, an In dian Pearle cut cut of Ruby red. On eyther side a golden Ar­row thrust through a bleeding Heart; to declare his earnest affection. In this manner went he to his belooued Lady, whom he found in company of other Ladies waighting upon the Em­presse: who taking her by the hand, he led her aside into a Ga­lery néere adioyning: where he began in this manner to expresse the passion of his loue.

Sacred Dulcippa, (quoth hee) in beauty brighter then glittering Cinthia, when with her beames shee beautifies the vales of Heauen. Thou art that Cinthia, that with thy bright­nesse dost sight my clowoy thoughtes, which haue many dayes been ouer cast with stormy showers of Loue: Shine with thy beames of mercie on my minde, and let thy light conduct me from the darke and obscure Laberinthe of Loue. If feares could speake, then should my tongue kéepe silence: Therefore, let my sighes bee messengers of true Icue. And though in words I am not able to deliuer the true meaning of my desires: yet let my cause beg pitty at your hands. Other wise your deniall drownes my soule in a bottomlesse Sea of sor­row: one of these two (most beautious Lady,) doe I desire: either to giue life with a chéerefull smile, or death with a fatall frowne. Valentine hauing no sooner ended his loues oration, but she with a scarlet countenance, returned him this ioyfull answere.

Most Noble Prince, thy words within my heart, hath knit a gordion knot, which no earthly Wight may vntie: for it is knitte with faithfull Loue, and Teares, distilling from a constant minde. My heart which neuer yet was subiect to any one, doe I fréely yeeld vp into thy bosome, where it for cuer­more shall rest, till the Fatall sisters cut our liues asunder. And in speaking these words, they kissed each other as the first earnest of their loues. With that the Empresse came tho­row the Gallerie, who espying their secret conference, pre­sently nursed in her secret hate, which shée intended to prac­tise against the guiltlesse Lady, thinking it a scandall to her Sonnes birth, to match in mariage with one of so base a pa­rentage: Therefore purposing to crosse their loues with dis­mall [Page] stratagems, and dryerie Tragedies, shee departed to her Chamber, where she cloked her treacheries vp in silence, & pon­dred in her heart how she might end their loues, and finish Dul­cippas life. In this tragicall imagination remained she all that night, hammering in her head a thousand seueral practises. But no sooner was the deawy earth comforted with the hote beames of Apollos fire, but this thirsting Empresse arose from her carefull bed, penning her selfe closely within her Chamber, like one that made no conscience for to kill: shée in all hast sent for a Doctor of Phisicke, not to giue Phisicke to rest [...]e health, but poyson for vntimely death: who being no sooner some into her presence, but presently she lockt her Chamber doore, and with an angry countenance, staring him in the face, shee breathed this horror into his harmelesse eares.

Doctor, thou knowest how oft in secret matters I haue vsed thy helpe, wherein as yet I neuer saw thy faith falsified: but now amongst the rest, I am to require thy ayd in an earnest bu­sinesse, so secret, which if thou dost but tell it to the whispering windes, it is sufficient to spread it through the whole world: whereby my practises may be discouered, and I be made a noted reproach to all hearers.

Madame (quoth the Doctor, whose heart harboured no thought of bloody deeds) what needs all these circumstances, where dutie doth command my true obedience? desist not ther, fore gentle Empresse, to make me priuy to your thoughts: for little did he thinke her minde could harbour so vile a thought: but hauing coniured most strongly his secrefie, she spake to him as followeth.

Doctor, the loue (nay rather raging lust) which I haue spied of late betwixt my vnnaturall sonne, and proud Dulcippa, may in short time (as thou knowest) bring a sudden alteration of our state, considering that he being borne a Prince, and descen­ded from a royall race, should match in marriage with a base and ignoble Mayden, daughter but to a meane Gentleman: therefore, if I should suffer this secret loue to goe forward, and séeke not to preuent it, the Emperour might condemne mée of falshood, and iudge me an agent in this vnlawfull loue; which to a voyd, I haue a practise in my head, and in thy hand it lyes [Page] to procure thy Princes happinesse, and Countreys good. Dul­cippas father (as thou knowest) dwels about thrée miles from my Pallace, vnto whose house, will this day send Dulcippa, about such businesse as I thinke best, where thou shalt bée ap­poynted, and none but thou to conduct her thither: where in a thicke and bushy groue which standeth directly in the midway, thou shalt giue her the cup of death, and so rid my heart from suspitious thoughts.

This bloody practise being pronounced by the Empresse, cau­sed such a terrour to enter into the Doctors mind, that he trem­bled foorth this sorrowfull complaint.

Oh you immortall powers of Heauen, you guider of my haplesse fortunes, why haue you thus ordained mee to bée the bloody murderer of a chaste and vertuous Lady, and the true patterne of sobrietie: whose vntimelesse ouerthrow if I should but once conspire, Dianas Nymphs would turne their wonted Natures, and staine their hands with my accursed blood: Therefore most glorious Empresse, cease your determinati­on, for my heart will not suffer my hand to commit so foule a villany.

And wilt not thou doe if then, (repl [...]ed the Empresse with a mind fraught with rage and blood?) [...] doe protest (quoth shée) by Heauens bright Maiestie, except thou doest consent to ac­complish my intent, thy head shall warrant this my secresie. Stand not on termes, my resolute attempt is cleane impatient of obiections.

The Doctor hearing her resolution, and that nothing but Dulcippas death might satisfie her wrath, hée consented to her request (and purposed cunningly to dissemble with the bloody Quéene) who beléeued that hée would performe what shée so much desired: so departing out of her chamber, she went to the giltlesse Lady, sending her on this fatall message: who like to haplesse Bellerophon, was ready to carry an embassage of her own death But in the meane time, the Doctor harbored in his breast a world of bitter woes, to thinke how vilely this vertu­ous Lady was betrayd: and considering in his minde, how that he was forced by constraint to performe this tragedy; therefore hee purposed not to giue her a cup of Poyson, but a sleeping [Page] Drinke, to cast her into a traunce, which shee should as a cup of death receiue; as well to try her vertuous Constancie, as to rid himselfe from so haynous a crime.

But now returne wee to Dulcippa, who beeing sped of her Message, went with the Doctor, walking on the way, where all the talke which they had, was of the liberall praise of Prince Valentine; who remayned in Court, little mistrusting what had happened to his beloued Lady: and she likewise ignorant of the hurt that was pretended against her life: but being both a­lone together in the Wood, where nothing was heard but chir­ping Birds, which with their voyces séemed to mourne at the Ladyes misfortune, But now the Doctor breaking off their former talke, tooke occasion to speake as followeth.

Man of all other creatures (most vertuous Lady) is most miserable, for Nature hath ordayned to euery Bird a pleasant tune to bemoane their misshapps, the Nightingale doth com­plaine her Rape and lost Uirginitie within the desart Groues: the Swanne doth likewise sing a dolefull heauie tune a while before shée dyes, as though Heauen had inspired her with some foreknowledge of things to come. Y [...] Madame, now must sing your Swan-like Song; for the pretty Birds (I sée) doe drope their hanging heads and mourne, to thinke that you must die, Maruell not Madame; the angry Quéene will haue it so. Accurst am I in being constrayned to bee the bloody instrument of so tyrannous a fact. Accurst am I that haue ordained that cuppe, which must by Poyson, stanche the thirst of the bloody Empresse: and most accursed am I, that can­not withstand the angry Fates, which haue appoynted mée to offer outrage vnto vertue. And in speaking these words, hée deliuered the Cup into the Ladyes hands: who like a Lambe that was led to the slaughter, vsed silence for her excuse. Many times lift shee vp her eyes toward the sacred Throne of Hea­uen, as though the Gods had sent downe vengeance vpon her giltlesse Soule, and at last breathed foorth these sorrowfull la­mentations.

Neuer (quoth shee) shall vertue stoope to Uice. Neuer shall Death affright my soule: nor neuer Poyson quench that last­ing loue, which my true heart doth beare to Princely Valen­tine; [Page] whose Spirit (I hope) shall méete mée in the ioyfull Fields of Elizium, to call those Ghosts, that dyed for Faith­full loue, to beare mee witnesse of my Faith and Loyalty: and so taking the Cup, shée said. Come, come, thou most blessed Cup, wherein is contained that happy Drinke, which giues rest to troubled mindes. And thou most blessed Wood, beare witnesse, that I mixe this banefull Drinke with Teares di­stilling from my bléeding heart. These Lips of mine that had woont to kisse Prince Valentine, shall now most willingly kisse this Ground, that must receiue my Corse. The author of my death, Ile blesse; for shee honours mee, in that I die for my swéet Valentines sake. And now Doctor to thée (being the in­strument of this my Death) I doe begueath all earthly happi­nesse: and here withall, I drinke to Valentines good fortune: So drinking off the sleeping Potion, shée was presently cast in­to a traunce; which shée poore Lady, supposed death. The Doctor greatly admiring at her vertuous minde, erected her body against an aged Oake, where he left her sléeping, and with all spéede returned to the hatefull Quéene, and told her, that he had performed her Maiesties command: who gaue him ma­ny thanks, and promised to requite his secrecie with a large re­compence.

But now speake we againe of Prince Valentine, who had in­telligence, how the onely comfort of his heart had ended her life by Poysons violence: for which cause, he leaues the Court; and conuerted his rich Attire to ruthfull Roabes: his costly co­loured Garments, to a homely russet Coat; and so trauailing to the solitary woods, he vowed to spend the rest of his dayes in a Shepheards life: His royall Scepter was turned into a sim­ple Shéepehooke, and all his pleasure was to kéepe his Shéepe from the téeth of the rauenous Wolues.

Thrée times had glistering Phoebe renewed her horned winges, and deckt the elements with her smiling counte­nance: Thrée moneths were past, thrée Moones had like­wise runne their wonted composse, before the Grecian Empe­rou mist his Princely Sonne: whose want was no sooner bru­ted through the Court, but hee ecchoed foorth this horrour to himselfe.

[Page] What cursed Planet thus indirectly rules my haplesse course? or what vn [...]outh dryery Fate hath bereaued me of my Prince­ly sonne? Ioue send downe thy burning Thunderb [...]lts, and strike them dead that be pro [...]urers of his want: But, if (swéet Venus) he be dead for loue, houer his Ghost before mine eyes, that hee may discouer the cau [...]e or his inflictions. But contrari­wise, if his life be finished by the fury of some murtherous mind, then let my exclamations pierce to the iustfull Maiestie of Heauen, that neuer Sunne may shine vpon his hated head, which is the cause of my Valentines decay: Or, that the angry Furies may lend me their burning whips, ince [...]santly to scourge their purple soules, till my Sonnes wrongs bee sufficiently re­uenged. Thus, or in such a like frantick humour ranne hee vp and downe his Pallace, till Reason pacified his outragious thoughts, and by perswasion of his Lords, he was brought into his quiet bed. Meane space, Diana (the Quéene of Chastitie) with a Traine of beautifull Nimphe [...], by chance came through the Wood where Dulcippa was left in her traunce: in which place, rousing the Thickets in pur [...]uit of a wilde Hart, the Quéene of Chastity espied the harmlesse Lady standing against a Trée, and beheld her swéet breath to passe through her closed lips: At whose presence, the Quéene a while stood wondring at; but at last, with her sacred shee awaked her, and withall asked the cause of her traunce, and by what meanes she came thither? Which poore awaked Lady, being amazed both at her sodaine Maiestie, and the strangenesse of her passed Fortune and di­stresse, with farre fetcht sighes, shee related what happened to her in those desart Woods. The heauenly Goddesse being mo­ued with pitie, with a most smiling voyce cheared her vp, and with a Lilly taken from the ground, she wiped the teares from off Dulcippa tender chéekes, which like to a riuer trickled from her Christall eyes. This being done, Diana with an Angels voyce, spake vnto her as followeth.

Swéete Uirgine (for so it séemeth thou art) farre better would it befit thy happy estate (happy I terme it) hauing past so many dangers, to spend the remnant of thy life amongst my Traine of Nimphes, whereas springeth nothing but Chastity and purity of life. Dulcippa, though in her loue both firme and [Page] constant, yet did she condiscend to dwell with Dianas Nimphs: where now, instead of parly with courtly Gallants, shée sing­eth Songs, Carrols, Roundelayes: in stead of Penne and Incke, wherewith she was wont to write Loue-letters, shee exerciseth her Bow & Arrows, to kill the swift-fat Deare: and her downie Beddes, are pleasant Groues, where pretty Lambes doe graze.

But now returne wée againe to the raging Emperour, who sifted the matter out in such sort, that hee found the Em­presse giltie of her Sonnes want, and the Doctor to bee the instrument of Dulcippas death: who being desperat (like one that vtterly detested the cruelty of the Empresse) would not alleadge, that he had but set the Lady in a traunce, but openly confessed that he had poysoned her & for that fact was willing to offer vp his life to satisfie the Law, therefore the angry Emperour sweares, that nothing shall satisfie his Sonnes reuengement, but death: and thereupon straightly commaun­ded the Empresse to be put in prison, and the Doctor likewise to be lockt in a strong Tower: but yet because shee was his lawfull Wife, and a Princesse borne hee something sought to mittigate the Law, that if any on within a tweluemonth and a day would come and offer himselfe to combate in her cause a­gainst himselfe, which would be the appealant Champion, she should haue life: if not to bee burnt to ashes, in sacrifice of his Sonnes death: all which was performed as the Emperour had commanded.

But now all this while the poore Prince liues alone within the Woods, making his complaints to the flockes of Séepe and washing their waell with his di [...] ressed teares. His bedde whereon his body rested, was turned into a Sun-burnd bank: his chaire of state, couered with grasse: his musicke, the whi [...] ­ling winds: the Rethoricke, pittifull complaints and meanes, wherewith he bewayled his passed fortunes, and the bitter cros­ses of his vnhappy loue:

The solitarie place wherein this Prince remained, was not farre [...]distant from the Groue, where Dullcippa led her sa­cred life: who by chaunce in a morning at the Sunnes vpri­sing, attyred in gréene vesiments, bearing in her hand a [Page] Bow bended, and a quiuer of arrowes hanging at her backe, with her hayre tyed vp in a Willow wreath, least the Bushes should catch her golden Tresses to beautifie their branches: in this manner comming to hunt a sauage Hart, she was surprized by a bloody Satire bent to rape, who with a bloody mind pursued her: and comming to the same place where Prince Valentine fedde his mourning Lambes, hee ouertooke her, whereat shee gaue such a terrible shrike in the Wood, that shee stird vp the Shepherds princely mind to rescue her: but now when the bloody Satyre beheld a face of Maiestie shrowded in a shepherds clothing, immediatly hée scudded through the Woods more swifter then euer fearefull Deare did run.

But now gentle Reader, héere stay to reade a while, and thinke vpon the happy méeting of these Louers: for surely the imagination thereof will lead a golden witte into the La­berinth of heauenly ioyes: but being breathlesse in auoyding passed dangers, they could not speake a word, but with sted­fast eyes stood gazing each other in the face: but comming a­gaine to their former senses, Vailentine brake silence with this wauering speach.

What heauenly wight art thou (quoth hee) which with thy beautie hast inspired me?

I am no Goddesse (replyed shée againe) but a Uirgin vowed to kéepe Diana companie, Dulcippa my name: a Lady some­time in the Grecian Court, whilst happy fortune smilde; but being crost in loue, here doe I vow to spend the remitant of my dayes. And with that, hee catching the word out of her mouth, said.

Oh you immortall Gods: and is my Dulcippa yet aliue? I, I, aliue I sée she is: I sée that sweet celestiall beautie in her face, which hath banished déepe sorrow from my heart: and with that kissing her, hée said. Soo, see, faire of all faires that Nature euer made, I am thy Valentine, thy vnhappy Loue, the Prince of Greece, the Emperours true Sonne, who for thy louely sake, am thus [...], and for thy loue, haue left the gallant Court, for this [...] and homely country life. With that, shée tooke him about his manly necke, and breathed many a bitter s [...]h into his bosome: and after with [Page] wéeping teares, discoursed all her passed dangers, as well the crueltie of the Empresse, as of the vertuous déed of the good Doctor. And hauing both recounted their passed for­tunes, they confented (disguised as they were) to trauell to the Grecian Court to sée if the Destenies had transformed the state of the Emperour or his regiment; for now no longer out­cries, nor heauie stratagems, or sorrowfull thoughts sought to pursue them; but smiling fortune, gratious delights, and happy blessings. Now Fortune neuer meant to turne her whéele againe, to crosse them with calamities, but intended with her hand to powre into their hearts oyle of lasting peace. Thus whilst Apolloes beames did parch the tender twigs, these two Louers sate still vnder the branches of a shadie Béech, re­counted still their ioyes and pleasures: and sitting both thus vpon a grassy bancke, there came trauelling by them an aged old man: bearing in his withered hand a staffe to stay his be­nummed body: whose face when Prince Vallentine beheld, with a gentle voyce he spake vnto him in this sort.

Father, God saue you: How happeneth that you wéeried with age, doe trauell through the desart Groues, befitting such as can withstand the checkes of Fortunes sicklenes? Come faire old man sit downe by vs: whose mindes of late were mangled with griefe, and crost with worldly cares.

This good old Hermite hearing the curteous request of the Prince, safe downe by them, and in sitting downe, he fumbled forth this spéech.

I come (young man) from yonder Citie, whereas the Em­perour holds a heauy Court, and makes excéeding sorrow for the want of his eldest Sonne, and for a Lady which is likewise absent: the Empresse being found guilty of their wants, is kept close prisoner, and is condemned to bee burnt, vnlesse within a tweluemoneth and a day, she can get a Cham­pion that will enter Battaile in her cause: and with her, a Doctor also is adiudged to suffer death. Great is the sorrow that is there made for this noble Prince, and none but com­mends his vertue: and withall the deserued praises of the ab­sent Lady.

Father (replyed then the Prince) thou hast told vs tydings [Page] full of bitter truth, able to enforce an iron heart to lament: for cruell is the doome, and most vnnaturall the Emperour, to deale s [...]hardly with his Quéene.

Nay (quoth the old man) if she be guilty, I cannot pitty her, that will cause the ruine of so good a Prince: for higher powers must giue example vnto their subjects.

By Lady Father (quoth the Princely Shepheard) you can well guesse of matters touching Kings; and to be a svitnesse of this accident, wee will presently goe vnto the Court and sée what shall betide vnto this distressed Quéene. This being said, they left the aged man, and so trauailed towards the Grecian Court: and by the way, these Louers did consult, that Prince Valentine attired like a Shepheard, should offer himselfe to combat in his Mothers cause, and so to expresse the kinde leue and nature which was lodged in his Princely breast. But be­ing no sooner arriued in the Court, and séeing his Father to take the combat vpon himselfe, presently he knéeled downe, and like an obedient Senne, discouered himselfe, and withall Dulcippas strange fortunes: whereupon the Empresse and the Doctor were presently deliuered, and did both most willingly consent to ioyne these two Louers in the bands of Mariage: where af­ter they spent their dayes in peace and happinesse.

This pleasant Discourse being ended, which Sir Lancelot had told to the excéeding pleasure of the greatest company, but especially of the Red-rose Knight, who gaue many kind thanks. At this time the windes began to rise, and blow chéerefully, by which they sayled on their iourney succesfully from one coast to another, till at the last they arriued vpon the coasts of Prester Iohns Land, which was in an euening when the day began to loose her christall Mantle, and to giue place to the Sable gar­ments of gloomy night: where they cast Anchor, vnséene of any of that Country Inhabitants.

CHAP. VI. What happened to the Red-Rose Knight, and his company in the Court of Prester Iohn, and how the Red-rose Knight slew a Dragon with three tongues, that kept a golden Tree in the same Country: with other attempts that happned.

THE next Morning by the breake of day, the Red-rose Knight rose from his Cabbin, and went vpon the Hatches of the Shippe, casting his eyes round a­bout, to see if hee could espie some Towne or Cittie where they might take harbour: and in looking about hee espied a great spacious Cittie, in the middle whereof stood a most sumptuous Pallace, hauing many high Towers standing in the ayre like the Orecian Piramides, the which he supposed to be the Pallace of some great Potentate: therefore calling Sir Lancelot (with two other Knights) vnto him, hee requested them to goe vp in­to the Citie, and to enquire of the Countrey, and who was the Gouernour thereof; the which thing they promised to doe: so arming themselues, (as it was conuenient, being strangers in that Country) they went vp into the Citie; where they were presently presented vnto Prester Iohn, who (being alwayes li­berall and courteous vnto Strangers) gaue them a royall in­tertainment, leading them vp into his Pallace: and hauing in­telligence that they were English-men, and aduenturous tra­uaileurs, he sent foure of his Knights for the rest of their com­pany, desiring them in the Knights behalfe, to returne to the Court, where they should haue a friendly welcome, and a Knightly entertainment.

Thus when the Red-rose Knight had vnderstoode the will of Prester Iohn, by his foure Knights, the next euening with his whole company hee repaired to the Cittie, which was right Noble and fayre, and although it was night, yet were the Stréetes as light as though it had béene mid-day, by the cleare [Page] resplendant brightnesse of Torches, Cressetts, and other Lights which the Citizens ordained to the intertaining of the English Knights. The Stréets through which they passed to goe to the Kings Pallace, were filled with people, as Burgo­masters, Knights, and Gentlemen, with Ladies & beautifull Damosels, which in comely order stood beholding their cōming. But when the Red-rose Knight was entred the Pallace: hée found the renowned Prester Iohn sitting vpon his Princely Throne, vnder propt with pillers of Iasper stone: who after he had giuen them an honorable welcome, he took the Red-rose Knight by the hand, and led him vp into a large and sumptious Hall, the richest that euer he had séene in all his life: But in going vp certaine stayres hée looked in at a window, and espied fayre Anglitora the Kings daughter, sporting amongst other Ladyes; which was the fayrest mayde that euer mortall eye behelde, and I thinke that Nature her selfe could not frame her like: but being entred the Hall, they foūd the Tables couered with costly fare ready for supper: when as the English Knights were set at the Kings Table in company of Prester Iohn and Anglitora, with other Ladyes attending (hauing good stomaches) they fedd lustily; but Anglitora which was placed right ouer against the Red-rose Knight, fedde only vpon his beauty and princely behauiour, not being able to withdraw her eyes from his diuine excellencie: but the renowned Prester Iohn for his part, spent away the supper time, with ma­ny pleasant conferences touching the countrey of England and King Arthurs princely Court: the report of which fame, had so often sounded in his eares. But amongst all other deuises, he told the English Knights of a Trée of gold, which now grew in his Realme, and yéerely brought foorth goldē fruit, but he could not enioy the benefit thereof, by reason of a cruell Dragon that continually kept it: for the conquest of which golden tree, hée had many times solemnly proclaimed through that part of the World, that if any Knight durst attempt to conquer it, and by good fortune bring the aduenture to an end, he should haue in reward thereof his Daughter the faire Anglitora in marriage: to which many Knights reserted as well of fortaine Coun­treys, as his owne Nation; but none proued so fortunate to [Page] accomplish the wished conquest, but lost their liues in the same aduenture: therefore I fully beléeue, if all the Knights in the world were assembled together, yet were they all vnsufficient to ouercome that terrible Dragon.

With that the Red-rose Knight with a bold courage stood vp, and protested by the loue he bore vnto his countryes King, he would performe the enterprise, or lose his life in the attempt: so in this resolution hée remained all supper time, which being ended, the English Knights were brought into diuers chambers: but amongst the rest, the Red-rose Knight and Sir Launcelot were lodged néere to the fayre Anglitora, for there was nothing betwixt their Chambers, but a little Gallery: into which being come, and no sooner layd in their beds, but the Red-rose Knight began to conferre with Sir Launcelot in this man­ner.

What thinke you (quoth he) of the enterprize I haue taken in hand? Is it not a deed of honour and renowne?

Surely (replyed Sir Launcelat) in my iudgement it is an enterprize of death: for euery man in this countrey adiudge­eth you ouercome and destroyed, if you but once approach the sight of the Dragon, therefore bee aduised, and goe not to this perrilous aduenture, for you can obtaine nothing thereby but reproach and death: and doubtlesse they are counted wise that can shun the misuentures, and kéepe themselues from danger.

But then (quoth the Red-rose Knight) shall I falsifie my promise; and the promise of a noble minde ought still to bée kept: therefore, ere I will infringe the Uow I haue made, I will be deuoured by the terrible Dragon, And in speaking these words they fell asleepe.

During which time of their conference, fayre Anglitora stood at their chamber doore and heard all that had passed be­twixt them, and was so surprized with the loue of this gentle Red-rose Knight, that by no meanes shée could restraine her affections: and returning to her chamber, casting her selfe vp­on her Bedde thinking to haue slept, but could not, shée began to say secretly to her selfe, this sorrowfull lamentation.

Alas mine Eyes, what torment is this you haue put my heart vnto? for I am not the woman that I was wont to be, [Page] for my heart is fiered with a flame of amorous desires, and is subiect to the Loue of this gallant English Knight, the beautie of the world, and the glory of Christendome. But fond feele that I am, wherefore doe I desire the thing which may not be gotten, for I greatly feare, that hee is already betr [...]thed to a Lady in his owne Countrey. And furthermore his minde is garnished with Princely cogitations, that I may not enioy his Loue: and he thinketh no more of me, then on her that he neuer saw. But graunt that hee did set his affection vpon mée, yet were it to small purpose; for he is resolued to aduenture his life in the conquest of the Golden trée, where hee will soone bee deuowred by the terrible Dragon. Ah, what a griefe & sorrow will it be to my heart, when I shall heare of his vntimely death for hee is the choise of all Nature, the Prince of Nobilitie, and the flowre of worship: for I haue heard him say, that hee had rather die honourably in accomplishing his Uow, then to re­turne with reproach into England. Which happy country, if these eyes of mine might but once behold, then were my soule possessed with terrestriall ioyes. Anglitora with these words fell asléepe, and so passed the night away till the day came: who [...]o sooner with his bright beames glistered against the Pallace walles, but the Red-rose Knight arose from his bed, and armed himselfe in great courage, ready for the aduenture: where af­ter hée had taken leaue of the King, and all the rest of his English friends, hée departed foorth of the Citie towards the Golden trée, which stood in a low vally, some two miles from the Kings Pallace:

This morning was fayr and cleare, and not a cloud was séene, the elements and the Sun cast his resple [...]dant beames vpon the earth: at which time the Ladyes and Damosels moū ­ted vpon the highest Towers in the Pallace, and the common people came vp to the battlements and walles of Churches, to behold the aduenture of this valiant Knight, who as then wet most ioyfully on his iourney, till he came to the vaile of the Golden trée, wherein being no sooner entred, but he behelde a most cruell and terrible Dragon come springing out of his hellow Caue. This Dragon was farre more bigger then a horse; in length full thirtie foote, the which incontinently as soone [Page] as hee was out of his Caue, began to raise his necke, set by his eares, and to stretch himselfe, opened his throate, and casting foorth thereat most monstrous burning flames of fire: Then the Red-rose Knight drew cut his good Sword, and went towards him, whereat the Monster opened his terrible throat, whereout sprang three tongues, [...]asting foorth flaming fire in such sort, that it had almost burnt him. The first blowe that the Knight strooke, hit the Dragon betwixt the two eyes so furiously that hée staggered: but be­ing recouered, and féeling himselfe most grieuously hurt, hée discharged from his throat such abundance of thicke [...]ing smoake, that it blinded the Knight in such sort, that hée saw no­thing: but yet not withstanding hée lifted vp h [...] Sword, and discharged it vpon the Dragon where he imagined his head was, and strooke so furious a blow, that hée cut off his thrée tongues close by their rootes: by which the Dragon indured such marueilous paine, that hée turned his body so sodainely round, that his tayle smote the valiant Knight a mighty blow vpon his backe, whereby hée fell downe vpon the Sands; be­ing thus ouerthrowne, hée was in minde most marueylously ashamed, but after a while, hauing recouered himselfe, hée ran to the Dragon againe, and with his good Sword smote such a terrible blow vpon his tayle, that it cut it off in the middle: the which péece was seuen foote in length. The Dragon through the great paine that hée felt, came and incountred the Knight in such a fashion that he beate him downe to the ground, and af­ter stood ouer him as though he had béen dead: but the Knight tooke his Sword, and vnderneath him thrust it vp to the Hilts so farre that it pierced his heart: which when the Dra­gon felt as smitten to death, began to runne away with the Sword sticking in his belly, thinking to haue hidden himselfe in his Caue but his life departed before hée could get thither. Incontinently, when the Red rose Knight had rest himselfe, and saw that the Dragon was dead, he recomforted himselfe, and went and drew out his Sword from his belly, which was all to be-stayned with his blacke blood; and after tooke the Daragons thrée Tongues and [...]ucke them vpon his Sword; and likewise pulled a branch from the golden Trée, which hée [Page] bore in his hand: and so in triumph went towards the Cittie: and being come within the sight thereof, hee lifted vp the Gol­den branch into the ayre as high as he could, that it might gli­ster in the Sunne for the people to behold, (which stood vpon high Turrets, expecting his comming,) who perceiuing it, with great admiration began to wonder. Some there were that gathered gréene Hearbes and Flowers, and strewed the way whereas the Knight should passe to goe to the Kings Pallace, saying: that all Honour ought to bee giuen to so no­ble and glorious a Conquerour.

Faire Anglitora amongst all other, was most ioyfull, when she beheld the glistering brightnesse of the Golden branch, and commanded her Waighting-maydes to put on their richest attyres, to solemnize the honour of that excellent Uictory.

And to conclude, he was met at the Citie gate, with the mel­lody of Drummes and Trumpets, and so conducted to the Kings Pallace: where he was right honorably entertayned of Prester Iohn and his Nobles. Surely there is no man so el­loquent, that can discourse by writing the great ioy that An­glitora tooke at his returne: and generally the whole Inhabi­tants had thereat excéeding pleasure.

But now when the valiant Red-rose Knight had entered the Hall, and had set the Golden branch vpon an Iuory Cup­board richly furnished with costly Plate, the English Knights and many other Ladyes began to daunce most ioyfully, and to spend the time in delicious sports till Supper was ready, and then the King and the Red-rose Knight was set: and with them, the noble and faire Anglitora, Launcelat du Lake and o­ther English Knights: where (all supper while) there was no other conference holden, but of the valiant encounters of the Red-rose Knight: who for his part did nothing but make secret loue signes to faire Anglitora.

What shall I make long circumstances? The Supper pas­sed, and the houre came that the generall company withdrew them into their Chambers, the Red-rose Knight was con­ducted to his Lodging by many Noble men and others, which brought the Golden branch after him, and so bequeathed him for that night to his silent rest. But presently after the Noble­mens [Page] departure, Anglitora entred into his Chamber, bearing in her hand a siluer Bason full of warme perfumed Waters, the which shée had prouided to wash the Dragons blood from his body: which when the Red-rose Knight perceiued, and thinking vpon the kind loue that shée proffered him, put off his Cloathes, and made himselfe ready to wash. Faire Anglitora being attired in a white Frocke without sléeues, turned vp her Smocke aboue her elbowes, and so with her owne hands washed the body of the Red-rose Knight.

But now when this gentle Batcheler beheld her louely Body, her faire & round Breasts, the whitenesse of her Flesh, and that hee felt her Hands marueilous soft, hee was so much inflamed with the ardent desire of loue, that in beholding her Beauty, hée began to embrace her, and kissed her many times most courtiously: and so after, when he had been well washed, Anglitora caused him to lie in his Bedde, beholding his well formed limbes, of colour faire and quicke, and could not turne her eyes from his sight: Thus as they were beholding each other without speaking any word, at last the noble Knight spake to her in this manner.

Most deare Lady, you know that by this Conquest, I haue deserued to bee your Husband; and you, through kind loue, to be my Wife; whereby I may say, that you are mine, and I am yours: and of our two Bodies, there is but one: Therefore I require you to seale vp the first quittance of our loues, which is, that wée two for this night, might sléepe together: and so accomplish the great pleasure that I haue so long frished for.

Ah most Noble Knight (answered the faire Lady) what in mée lyeth (that may bring you the least motion of content) shall with all willingnesse be performed: But yet I coniure you by the promise of true Knight-hood, that you will saue mine Ho­nour, lest I bee made a scandall to my Fathers glory.

There is no man in the world (quoth he) that shall preserue thine Honour more then I. What if you sléepe this night with me in bed, doe you any more then your duty, in that I am your Husband, and best beloued Friend.

My deare loue (replyed she againe) there is no pleasure which [Page] I will deny yée: but for this night, you shall haue pa­tience▪ for I will neuer yéeld vp the pride of my Uirginitie, t [...]ll my Father hath giuen me Mariage: and therefore I de­sire you, that to morrow you will request that fauour at his hands: which being graunted and performed, then accomplish your content.

When the Red-rose Knight had vnderstood his Ladyes minde, hée like an Honourable Gentleman, was content to obey her request. What shall I say more? but that the night drew on to the wonted time of sleepe, which caused those two Louers (for the time) to breake off company. Here slept the Red-rose Knight till the next morning: which at the breake of day, was presented with a Consort of Musicke, which the King himselfe brought into his Chamber. Their melody so highly contented his minde, that he threw them a Gold chaine, which was wrapped about his wrist: a gift plainely expressing the bounty that beautified his princely breast. The Musicians be­ing departed, hee arose from his rich Bed, and went vnto the King, whom he found as then walking in a pleasant Garden: of whom he requsted his Daughter Anglitora in marriage, in recompence of his aduenture. The which request so displeased the King, that all his former curtesies was exchanged into so­daine sorrow, and would by no meanes consent that Anglitora should bee his betrothed Spouse; and answered: that first hee would loose his Kingdome, before shée should bee the wife of a wandring Knight.

The noble Red-rose Knight, when hée vnderstood the vnkind answere of Prester Iohn (all abashed) went vnto Sir Launce­lat, and his other friends, and certified them of all things that had happened: who counselled him, that the next morning they should depart.

After this conclusion, they went to the King, and thanked him for the high Honour hée had grac'd them with: and, after that, went and visited their Shippe, where for that day they passed the time in pleasure: and so when the scouling night approached, the Red-rose Knight went to the faire Anglitora, and certified her of the vnkind answere of her cruell Father: whereat thée grew sorrowfull, and grieued in minde: but [Page] at last better considering with her selfe, shée yéelded her for­tune fully at his pleasure, promising, that for his loue, shee would forsake both Countrey, Parents, and Friends, and follow him to what place soeuer hée pleased to conduct her. And it is to be supposed, that this night the fayre Anglitora tooke all the richest Iewels which she had, and trussed them in a fa [...]dle, and so when it was a little before day, shée came vnto the Red Rose Knight and awaked him: who presently made him ready, and so departed secretly from his Chamber, till they came to their Shippes: where they found all the rest of the English Knights ready to depart: So, when they were all a Board they hoysted Sayle, and departed from the Port. To whose happy iourney, we will now leaue them for a time, and speake of the discontents of Prester-Iohn, who all that night was exceeding sorrowfull for the vnkind answere, which he had giuen to the Red-Rose Knight, and so Melancholly that he could neither sléepe nor rest: but at the last hee concluded with himselfe, that he would goe & conuey the English Knights (at their departing) vnto their Ships; to the end that being in other countreys, they might applaud his courtesies vsed to Strangers.

So in the morning hee arose and went to the Chamber where the Red rose Knight was lodged, whom hee found departed contrary to his expectation. After that, he went in­to his Daughters Chamber, where he found nothing but re­lentlesse walles, which in vaine hee might speake vnto: whose absence droue him into such a desperate minde, that hée suddenly ran to the Sea coastes, where hee found many of his Citizens, that shewed him the Shippes wherein the English Knights were, which was at that time from the Port or Hauen, more then halfe a mile Then the King (wéeping tenderly) demaunded of them, if they had séene his Daughter Anglitora? To whom they answered, that they had séene her vpon the Shippe hatches in company of the Red-rose Knight. At which the King bitterly lamented, beating his Brest, and tearing his milke-white Hayre from his Head, vsing such vio­lence against himselfe, that it greatly grieued the behold [...].

At that time there was many of his Lords present, who by [Page] gentle perswasions, withdrew him from the Sea coasts to his Pallace: where he many dayes after, lamented the disobedient flight of his Daughter.

CHAP. 7. How Caelia the Queene of the Fayrie Land was found dead, floting vpon the waues of the Sea: with other things that happened to the English Knights.

MAny dayes the windes blew chearfully in such sort, that the English Ships were within ke [...] ­ning of the Fayery Land: at which Sir Lance­lat tooke an occasion to speak vnto the Red-rose Knight, and put him in remembrance how hee had promised Caelia to returne into her Coun­trey: vnto which hée answered, and said: That he would keepe promise, if the Destenies did afford him life. And thereupon commanded the Master Pilot to make thitherward: but the windes net being willing, raysed such a Tempest on the Sea, that the Shippe was cast a contrary way, and the Marriners by no means possible could approach the Fayery land. At which time, the noble Quéene Caelia stood by the sea side vpon an high Rocke, beholding the English Ship as it passed by, as her vsual manner was euery day standing, expecting her deare Loues returne, many times making this bitter lamentation to her selfe.

Ah gentle Neptune, thou God of Seas and Windes, where is my desired Loue: bring him againe vnto mee, that day and night wée peth for his company. Thus she complained at the same instant when her Louers Shippe sayled by; for surely she knew if by the Banners and Ensignes which were displayed in the winde: but when the poore Lady perceiued the Ship to turne from her, she was sore abashed and dismayed. In stead of ioy, she was forced to wéepe teares: and instead of singing, was constrained to make sorrowfull complaints. In this manner she aboad there all that ensuing night, and caused Fires and [Page] great Lights to be made on the shore, thinking thereby to call the Red-rose Knigh [...]. vnto her.

This order kept shee every day and night for the space of sixe wéekes, wayling the want of him, whom she loued more deare then her owne heart: but when the sixe weekes were past, and that the Fayerie Quéene perceiued that she should haue no ty­dings of her Loue, she went from the Rocke (all in dispaire.) in­to her Chamber; where being entred, shee caused her Sonne to be brought vnto her, whom shée kissed many times, for the loue she bore vnto his Father: and after beholding the little Infant, crossing her Armes, with a sigh comming from the bot­tome of her heart, she sayd: Alasse my deare Sonne, alasse thou canst not speake to demaund tydings of thy Father, which is the brauest Knight, the most vertuous, and the most valiant in Armes that God euer formed. Oh where is Nature (swéet Babe) that should enioyne thée to wéepe, and my selfe more then thée, for the lesse of so braue a Prince; whose face I ne­uer more shall sée? Oh cruell and vnkind Fortune: my heart hath concluded, that I goe and cast my selfe, headlong into the Sea, to the intent, that if the Noble Knight bee there buried, that I may lye in the same Sepulchre or Tombe with him: where contrariwise, if hee be not dead, that the same Sea that brought him hither aliue, bring me to him being dead. And to conclude, before I commit this desperate murther vpon my selfe, with my Blood I will write a Letter, which shall bée sewed to my Uestments or Attyre, to the intent that if euer my body bee presented to the Red-rose Knight, that then this bloody Letter may witnesse the true loue that I bore him, to the houre of my death.

Many Ladyes and Damsels were in her company whilst thus shee lamented her Knights absence: who hearing of her desperate intended death, made excéeding sorrow. Some there were that so mightily grieued, that they could not speake one word: other some there were that sou [...]ht to perswade her from her desperate intent: but all in vaine. For she presently went from them and with her owne blood writ a Letter, and wrapping it in a Sear-cloth, and then solved it to the Uestures wherein she was clothed: then taking her Crowne, shee bound it [Page] from her head with a Goldē chaine which the Red-rose Knight before time had giuen h [...]r. Then when shee had done all this, shee came to her little Sunne, and many times kissed him, and [...]o deliuered him to the Ladyes and Damsels to bee nourished: & so after taking leaue of them all, she departed toward the sea, whether being [...]o [...]te, the went to the top of the high rock, where she began to looke downe vpon the Sea, and after casting her selfe vpon the Earth, looking vp towards Heauen, she sayd.

Thou God of my Fortunes, Lord of the Windes & Seas: thou that broughtest into this country the right perfect Knight, in beauty, manhood, and all vertues, graunt that when my soule hath made passage out of this world, my body may be in­tombed in his b [...] some: which words being sayd, shée turned her eyes towards her Pallace, and spake with a high voyce: Adue my deare Babe, adue you glistring Towres, my royall Pallace: a [...]ue Ladyes and Damsels: and lastly, adue to all the world, And in saying so, she cast herselfe into the Sea, & there desperately drowned her selfe.

But yet such was her fortune, that the waues of the Sea bore her dead body the same day to the English Knights Ship, which as then lay in a Road where they had cast Anchor for to rest that night, and to be short, it so happened at the same houre when her dead Body was cast against the Shipps, the Red-rose Knight went vp the Hatches to take the fresh ayre: where (looking about) he espyed the dead Lady richly attyred in cloth of Gold, that gorgiously stone in the Water, the which he pre­sently caused to be taken vp and brought into the Ship: where looking wi [...]hly vpon her, he knew her perfectly well: and after stooping to kis [...]e her pale Lippes, hee found the bloudy Letter which hee had compeled, [...]r [...]pt in Seare-cloth: so, taking it and reading the contents thereof, his Blood began to change, and to war redde like the Rose, and presently againe as pale as ashes. Whereat Sir Launcelat and the other Knights were greatly abashed, but especially Anglitora, who demaunded the c [...]use of his griefe? Whereunto the Red-rose Knight was not able to answere a word, the sorrow of his heart so exc [...]eded: yet not withstanding, he deliuered the bloody letter to Anglitora, the contents whereof are these that follow.

[Page] THus when faire Anglitora had read those bloody lines, she greatly lamented her vnhappy death: & withall, requested the Red-rose Knight, in that she dyed for his sake, to beare her Body into England, and there most honourably intombe it: to which he most willingly consented. So causing her body to be inbalmed, they hoysted sayle, and departed towards England: into which Country, they within foure moneths safely ariued. At whose comming, the Inhabitants and dwellers, greatly re­ioyced, but chiefely the Red-rose Knight and his company, who at their first ariuall, knéeled downe vpon the Earth, and gaue God thankes for preseruing them from so many dangers and perils, to their high renowne, and triumphant victoryes.

After this, they intombed the body of Caelia most honourably as befitted a Princesse of her calling. This being done, they de­parted towards Pendragon Castle, standing in Walles, where as then King Arthur kept his royall Court: where being ari­ued, they found the King, and many other Nobles in a readines to giue them a Princely welcome: amongst whom was faire Angelica the Nun of Lincolne, mother to the Red-rose Knight; yet kept in so secret a manner, that neither he, nor she, had any suspition thereof, but spake one to another as méere strangers, The discouery of whom, discoursed at large in the second part of this Historie: as likewise the strange fortune of Caelias little Sonne, which the Ladyes in the Fayerie land called by the name of the Fayerie Knight; and by what meanes he came to be called the Worlds Tryumph: with many other strang accidents, &c. But now (to conclude this first part) the Red-rose Knight and the faire Anglitora were solemnely maried to­gether, and liued long time in King Arthurs Court in great ioy, and tranquilitie, and peace.

The second part of the famous History of Tom a Lincolne, the Red-rose Knight, &c.
CHAP. I. How Tom a Lincolne knew not his Mother, till forty yeares of his age, nor whose Sonne he was: Of King Arthurs death, and his dying speeches, and of what hapned thereupon.

WHen Arthur, that renowned King of Eng­land (being one of the nine Worthies of the World) had by twelue seuerall set Battailes, conquered the third part of the Earth; and being wearied with the exploytes of Marti, all aduentures, in his olde dayes betooke himselfe to a quiet course of life; turning his Warlkie ha­biliaments, to diuine Bookes of celestiall meditations: that as the one had made him famous in this World, so might the other make him blessed in the World to come. Seauen yeares continued quiet thoughts in his breast: seauen yeares neuer heard he the sound of delightfull Drums; nor in seuen yeares beheld hee his thrice worthy Knights of the Round Table, flourishing in his Court: by which meanes his Pal­lace grew disfurnished of those Martiall troupes, that drew commendations from all forraigne Kingdomes. In this time, most of those renowned Champions, had yéelded their liues to the conquering Tiranny of pale Death, and in the bow­els of the Earth lay sléeping their eternall sléepes, the royall [Page] King himselfe laden with the honour of many yeeres; and ha­uing now (according to nature) the burthen of death lying hea­uie vpon his shoulders: and the stroke lifted vp to diuide his body from his soule, he called before him all the chiefen of his Court: but especially his own Quéene, the Red-rose Knight, and his Lady Anglitora, with the faire Angellica, the Nunne of Lincolne, whom hee had so many yéeres secretly loued: and being at the poynt to bid a wafull farewell to the world, with Countenance as Maiestical as King Priam of Troy, he spake as followeth.

First, to thée my loued Queene, must I vtter the secrets of my very soule, and what wanton escapes I haue made from any nuptiall Bedde, otherwise cannot this my labouring life, depart from my fading body in quiet: Long haue I liued in the delightfull sinne of Adulterie, and polluted our mariage Bed with that vile pleasure: pardon I beseech thee and with that forgiuenesse (which I hope will proceed from thy gentle heart) wash away this long bred euill the Celestaill powers haue grauated me rem [...]ssion. Then turning to Angellica the Nunne of Lincolne, hee said.

Oh thou my youths delight: thou whose loue hath berea­ued my Quéene of much mariage pleasure: thou, and but one­ly thou, haue I offended withall, therefore diuine Angellica, forgiue me: I like a rauisher spotted thy Uirginitie, I [...]r [...]pt thy sweet budde of Chastitie; I with flattery won thy heart, and ledde thee from thy Fathers house (that good Earle of London) to feede my wanton desires: by thee had I a Sonne, of whom both then and I, take glory of: for in his wor­thynesse remaine the true Image of a Martialist; and this re­nowned Knight of the Red-rose, is he: He liues: the fruit of our wanton pleasures, borne at Lincolne, and there by a Shepherd brought vp, few knowing (till now) his true Pa­rente, Ma [...]aile not deere Sonne: thinke not amisse sweete Queene: for thou my louely Angellica: Be not dismayde you honourable States, heere attending my dying houre: for as I hope presently to enter into Elizium Paradise, and weare the Crowne of disertfull Glory, I haue reuealed the long secrets of my heart, and truely brought to light those things, that the [Page] darknesse of obliuion hath couered. Now the Mother knowes her Sonne, the Sonne the Mother. Now may this valiant Knight boast of his Pedegrée, and a quiet content satisfie all your doubts. Thus haue I spoke my minde, & thus quieted, my soule bids the world farwell. Adue faire Quéene, adue déere son, farwell louely Angellica; Lords and Ladyes adue vnto you all: you haue seene my life, so now behold my death: as Kings doe liue, so Kings must die. These were the last of Kings Arthurs words: And being dead, his death not halfe so amazed the stan­ders by, as the strange spéeches at his liues farwell.

The Quéene in a raging ielousie fretted at her Marriage wrongs, protesting in heart, to be reuenged vpon the Nunne of Lincolne.

The Nunne of Lincolne, séeing her wantonnesse discouered, tooke more griefe thereat, then ioy in the finding of her long lost Son; supposing now, that (the King being gone) she should be made a scandall to the world.

The Red-rose Knight, knowing himselfe to be begot in wan­tonnesse, and borne a Bastard, tooke small ioy in the knowledge of his Mother.

Anglitora (Tom a Lincolnes Wife) excéeded all the rest in sorrow, bitterly sobbing to her selfe, and in heart making great lamentation, in that she had forsaken Father, Mother, Friends, Acquaintance, and Countrey, all for the loue of a Bastard, bred in the wombe of a shamelesse Strumpet: therefore she purposed to giue him the slip; and with her owne Sonne (a young gal­lant Knight, named the Blacke Knight, in courage like his Fa­ther) to trauaile towards the Kingdome of Prester Iohn, where she first breathed life and her Father reigned.

In this melancholy humour spent they many dayes, trou­bling their braines with diuers imaginations. The Court, which before rung with Delights, and flourished in gallant sort, now thundred with Complaints; euery one disliking his owne estate: Discontent as a proud Commaunder go­uerned ouer them, and their Attendants were idle Fancies, and disquiet Thoughts: and to speake troth, such a confused Court was seldome séene in the Land; for no sooner was Kings Arthurs Funerall solemnized, but the whole troupes [Page] of Lords, Knights and Gentlemen, Ladyes, and others, were (like to a splitted Shippe torne by the Tempest of the Sea) se­uered, euery one departed whither his Fancie best pleased.

The Red-rose Knight conducted his Mother Angellica to a Cloyster in Lincolne, which place she had so often polluted with her shame, there to spend the remnant of her life in repentance; and with her true Lamentations, to wash away her blacke spottes of sinne, that so grieuously stayneth her Soule: and from a pure Uirgine, made her selfe a desolute Strumpet.

Likewise, King Arthurs widdowed Quéene, like to irefull Hecuba, or the tealous Iuno, kept her Chamber for many dayes, pondering in her minde what reuenge shee might take vpon Angellica her Husbands late fauorite.

On the other side Anglitora Lady and Wife to the Red-rose Knight, with her Sonne the Blacke Knight, made pro­uision for their departure towards the Land of Prester Iohn, where shée was borne: so vpon a night when neither Moone nor Star-light appeared, they secretly departed the Court, onely attended on by a Negar or Black-more; a Slaue fit­ting to prouide them necessaries, and to carry their Apparell and Iewels after them; whereof they had aboundant store: The Blacke Knight her Sonne, (so called rather by fierce courage, then this blacke complexion) was all fiered with the ardent desire that hee had to sée his Graundsire. Prester Iohn: therefore without taking leaue of his Father (being then ab­sent in the company of his leawde Graunde mother) with a no­ble spirit conducted his mother to the Sea side, where a shippe was ready then to hoyst Sayle, where of the Pilots they were most willingly receiued for Passengers. And in this manner departed they the Land, the Blacke Knight wore on his Hel­met for a Scutchon, a blacke Rauen féeding on dead mens flesh; his Caparisons were all of blacke veluet imbrodered, which most liuely figured foorth the blacke furie lodged in his Princely boosome. Anglitora his Mother, had the at­tyre of an Amazon, made all of the best Arabian silke, co­loured like the changeable hue of the Raine-bow: about her necke hung a Iewell of a wounderfull value, which was a Di­amond cut in the fashon of a Heart split asunder with a Tur­kish [Page] Semiter: betokening a doubt that shee had of her Knights loyaltie. The slauish Moore that attended them, went all na­ked, except a shaddow of gréene Taffata which couered his pri­uie parts: vpon his foote a Morischo Shoe, which is nothing but a Soale made of an Asses hide, bucklde with small Lea­thers to his insteps vpon his Head hee wore a Wreath of Cy­pres guilded with pure gold, and a Plate of Brasse about his necke close locked, with the word bond-slaue ingrauen about it. In this manner passed they the Seas, and was by these strange habites wondred at in all Countries where they came: In which trauels wee will leaue them for a time, and speake of other things pertinent to our Story.

CHAPTER. 2 Of Tom a Lincolnes strang manner of trauelling, his wofull departure from England, and of his sorrowfull lamentations for the vnkindnesse of his Lady.

WHen Tom a Lincolne (the Red-rose Knight) had spent some two months in the company of his Mother at Lin­colne, giuing her as much comfort as a Sonne might, hee left her very penitent for her liues amisse, and retur­ned to the Court, where hée left both his Wife and her Sonne, the Blacke Knight, thinking at his ariuall, to finde so ioyfull a welcome, and so courtious an intertaine­ment, that all the blacke cloudes of Discontent might bée blowne ouer by their happy méeting: but as ill chaunce had allotted all things fell out contrary to his expectation; for hee neither found Wife, Childe, Seruant, nor any one to make him answere: His Plate and Treasure was deminished, his house-hold Furniture, imbesselled, and by Théeues violent­ly carryed away, hée had not so much as one Stéed left in his Stable, for them the Quéene had seazed on for her vse: and fur­thermore (by her commandement) a Decrée was made, that [Page] whomsoeuer in all the Land shewed him any duty, or gaue him but homely reuerence, should loose their heads, for shée had intitled him, The base borne seed of Lust, a Strumpets brat, and the common shame of the dead King. This was the malice of King Arthurs widow: and assuredly Quéene Iuno neuer thirsted more for the confusion of Hercules then shée did for Tom a Lincolns ouerthrow: But yet this griefe (being cast from a Princesse fauour, to a vulgar disgrace) was but a pleasure, to the sorrow he tooke for the misse of his Lady and Sonne: No newes could hee heare of them, but that they were fled from the furie of the angry Quéene: which was but a vaine imagination laid vpon the enuious time: but farre o­therwise did mischiefe set in her foote, the doting minde of his Lady Anglitora intended to a further reach, which was to aban­don his presence for euer, and to thinke him as ominous to her sight, as the killing Cockatrice. The effect of this his Wiues sodaine dislike, shée had caused (before her departure) to be carued in stone ouer the Chimny of his lodging, how that She deserued damnation to leaue Father, Friends, and Countrie, for the disloyall loue of a Bastard.

Of all griefes to him this was the very spring, the roote, the deapth, the hight: which when hee had read, hee fell into a sounde, and had it not béene for two Pages that attended him, he had neuer recouered: in this agony the vaines of his breast sprung out into blood, and all the partes of his body swate with griefe: downe fell hee then vpon his knees, and immediatly pulled the King from his finger. which shée had giuen him when they were first bethrothed, and wash't it with his teares, kissing it a hundred times: All that euer hee had from her did hée wash in the blood that trickled from his b [...]e­some and after bound them in a Cypresse to his left side, di­rectly where his heart lay, protesting by that God that crea­ted him, and was the guide of all his passed fortunes, neuer to take them thence, till either hee found his Lady, or ended his life. He likewise made a solemne vow to Heauen, neuer to out his Haire, neuer to come in Bedde, neuer to weare She, neuer to taste Food, but onely Bread and Water, nor neuer to take pleasure in humanitie, till he had eased his griefe in the [Page] presence of his déerest Anglitora, and that her loue were recon­c [...]led to him.

Being thus strangely resolued, hée discharged his Ser­uants and Pages, giuing them all the wealth that he had, and clad himselfe in tand shéeps skins, made close vnto his Body, whereby hée séemed rather a naked Wilde man bredde in the Wildernesse, then a sencible creature brought vp by ciuill con­uersation. Thus bare footed, and bare legged, with an Iuory Staffe in his hand, hée set forward to séeke his vnkind Wife, and vnnaturall Sonne: giuing this wofull farewell to his na­tiue Countrey.

Oh you celestiall Powers (quoth he) wherefore am I pu­nished for my Parents offences? Why is their secret sinnes, made my publike miserie? What haue I mis-done, that my Wife resisteth me, and like a discourteous Lady forsakes mée, making her absence my present calamitie.

Oh thou gratious Quéene of Loue, I haue béene as loyall a seruant in thy pleasures, as euer was Hero to her Leander, or Pryamus to his Thisbie: Then what madding furie, like a cruell commander, hath t [...]ken possession of my Anglito­ras heart, and placed infernall conditions, whereas the pure vertues of modest behauiour had wont to bee harboured? It cannot bee otherwise, but the enraged Quéene with her vn­ [...]uenchable Enuie, hath driuen her hence; and not only of one heart made two, but of two séekes to make none; which is, by vntimely death, to worke both our confusions: there­fore proud Quéene, fa [...]well: let all the furies haunt thée, and may thy Court séeme as hatefull to thy sight, as the tor­ments of Hell fire to a guilty Conscience. Ungratefull England likewise adue to thée, for all the honours I haue brought into thy bounds, and with the spoyles of forraigne Countries, made thee the onely Prince of Kingdomes: yet thou repayest me with disgrace, and load'st mée with more contempt, then my neuer conquered Heart can inture: so kis­sing the ground with his warme lippes, that had so long fo­stered him, and with many a bitter teare, and deepe sobbe, like a Pilgrime, (as I said before) hée tooke leaue of his natiue Countrey, and so went to the Sea side; where hee heard of his [Page] Wife and his Sonnes departure, after whom (as soone as the Wind conueniently serued) hée tooke shipbord: Where wée will now likewise leaue him to his fortune vpon the Sea, and speake of the professed malice the Quéene prosecuted against Angellica, the mother of the Red-rose Knight.

CHAP. 3 Of the wofull death of Angellica, Mother to the Red-rose Knight, and of the death of the iealous Queene and others.

THe beautious Angellica, béeing left by her Sonne, the Red-rose Knight, (at his departure) in a Monestarie at Lincolne, there to bewaile her former offences; and for her youths pleasure, in age to taste the bitter food of sorrow: the day time shée spent in grieued pas­sion [...] night shée wasted with s [...]ghs and heart-breaking sobbes: shée fed on carefull thoughts, her drinke was streames of salt teares: her companions, thoughts of her passed wanton pleasures: her bed no better then the cold earth: her sléepes were few, but her com­forts lesse: her continuall exercise, was with a Néedle to worke in silke vpon the Hangings of her Chamber, how shée was first woed, then won to King Arthurs pleasures, in what manner their meetings were, their wanton daliances, his imbraces, her smiles: his Princely gifts, her courteous acceptance: and lastly, the birth of her thrice worthy Sonne, his bringing vp, his honours in the Court, and his strange discouerie: all which shee had wrought, as an Arras worke, with silke of di­uers collours, in a peece of the purest Holland cloath. In doing this, twise had the golden Sunne runne his circumference a­bout the world, twise had the pleasant Spring beautified the Earth with her changable mantles, twise had nipping Winter made the Fields barren, and the Woods leafelesse: and twise had the yeere shewed himselfe to all mankind: in which time of [Page] twise twelue moneths, euery day made shée a sorrowfull com­plaint for the wracke of Honour, and her Uirginities losse, which so willingly she surrendred: in this time, so greatly had sorrow and griefe changed her, that her eyes (which had wont like twinckling Diamonds to giue light to all affections) were now sunke into their Cels, and séemed like a hollow Sepul­cher new opened: her Face, wherein Beautie her selfe dwelt, and her Chéekes the true die of the Lillie and the Rose inter­mixt, now appeared old and writhen, like to the countenance of Hecuba when her husband King Priamus, and all her Princely Children were slaine at Troyes destruction: and her tresses of Gold-like Hayre, which like to Indian Wyers hung ouer her shoulders, were now growne more white then Thistle downe, the Isickles of frozen Ice, or the white mountaine Snow: all these griefes of Nature had not age changed, but the inward griefe of her carefull heart.

But now marke the wofull chance that hapned, euen vpon the day, which by computation she had in former times yéelded vp her Maydens pride, and lost that Iewell that Kingdomes cannot recouer: vpon that haplesse day, came there a Messen­ger from the Quéene, to bid her make preparation for death; for [...] that day should bee her liues end, and her fortunes period: which she most willingly accepted of, and tooke more ioy there­at, then to be inuited to a Princely Banquet.

Be not dismayde (said the Messenger) for you shall haue as honourable a death as euer had Lady: seauen seuerall Instru­ments of death shall be presented to you for a choyse, and your owne tongue shall giue sentence which of them you will die by: whereupon this Messenger set this sorrowsull Lady at a round Table, directly in the middle of a very large roome, (whereinto he had led her, hung all about with blacke; where being placed as to a Banquet, or some solemne Dinner of State, there en­tred seauen Seruitours in disguised shapes like vnto Murthe­rers, with seauen seuerall deadly seruices in Dishes of siluer Plate: The first, brought in Fire burning in a Dish, if shée would, to consume her body to ashes: The second brought in a Dish, a twisted Ceard, to strangle her to death: The third, a Dish full of deadly Poyson, to burst her body withall: The [Page] fourth, a sharpe edgd Rayzor or Knife, to cut her throat: The fifth, an Iron wracke to teare her body into small péeces: The sixth, a Dish full of liue Snakes, to sting her to death: And the seuenth an impoysoned Garment, being worne, that will con­sume both flesh and blood. These seauen deathfull Seruitours hauing set downe their Dishes (the least whereof brings pre­sent death) shée was commanded by the Messenger, which of them she should choose to die withall, and to make spéedy choyce; for he was sworne to the Quéene (on whom he attended) to sée it that day accomplished. At these his words, shée fell present­ly vpon her knées, and with a courage readier to yéeld to deaths furie, then to the mercie of the liuing Quéene, said as foll­loweth.

Oh thou guider of this earthly Globe, thou that gauest my weake nature ouer to a wanton life, and from a Uirgin chast, hast made me an infamous Strumpet: thou that sufferedst only a King in Maiestie to preuaile against mée, and with the power of greatnesse worme mée to lewdnesse; for which I am now doomed to a present death, and forced by violence, to bidde this tempted world a [...]ue; Inspire mee with that happy choyce of death, as my Soule may haue an easie passage from my body. First, to dye by Fire, to an earthly imagination séemes terrible, and farre different from nature: secondly, to die with strang­ling cord, were base, and more sitting for robbers, théeues, and malefactors: thirdly, to die by deadly poyson, were a death for Beasts and wormes, that féeds vpon the bosome of the Earth: fourthly, to die by cutting kniues and slicing razors, were a death for cattle, fowles, and fishes that dies for the vse of man: fitly by an iron wracke to end my life, were a barbarous death, and against mans nature: but seuenthly, to die a lingring death, which is a life consuming by wearing of impoysoned garments, (where repentance may still bée in company) will I choose: therefore swéet Messenger of my death doe thy office, attyre me in these robes; and the manner of my death I beséech thée make knowne vnto the Quéene: tell her (I pray thée) I for­giue her; and may my death bée a quiet vnto her soule, for my life is to her eares as the fatall sound of night Rauens, or the Mermaides tunes.

[Page] Uaine world, now must I leaue thy flattering intisements, and in stead of thy pompe and glory, must shortly treade the dolefull march of pale death: and this body that hath béene so pleasing to a Princes eye, must bee surrendred vp for wormes to féed vpon. Many other words would she haue spo­ken, but that the commaunding Messenger (being tyed to an houre) caused her to put on the impoysoned Roabes which no sooner came to the warmth of her body, but the good Lady af­ter a few bitter sighes, and dreadfull gaspes yéelded vp the ghost, being (through the extremitie of the infectious Gar­ment) made like vnto an Anatomie; which they wrapped in Seare cloth, & the next day gaue her buriall according to her estate and so returned to the inraged Quéene, kéeping then her Court at Pendragon castle in Wales, into whose presence was no sooner the Messenger come, but the angry Quéene beyond all measure being desirous to heare of Lady Angel­licas death, in a rage ran and clasped him about the middle, saying.

Speake Messenger speake, is the vile strumpet dead? Is the shame of womankind tortured? Is my hearts griefe by her death banished my boosome? speake for I am ouermai­stred with doubts.

Most gracious Quéene (quoth the Messenger) resolue your selfe of her death, for the cold earth hath inclosed vp her body: but so patiently tooke shee her death, that well might it haue mooued a Tygers heart to remorse; for in troth, my heart relented at the manner of her death, Neuer went Lambe more gently to the slaughter, nor neuer Turtledoue was more méeke, then this wofull Lady was at the message of her death: for the Elements did séeme to mourne, closing their bright beauties vp to blacke and sable Curtaines; and the very flintie walles (as it were) sweate at the agonie of her death, so gentle, méeke and humbly tooke shee her death; com­mending her selfe vnto your maiestie, wishing that her death, might be your soules contentment.

And could shée bee so patient (quoth the Quéene) that euen in death would wish happinesse to the causers thereof? fare­well thou miracle of womankind, I haue béen to thée a sa­uage [Page] Lionnesse: I was blinded at the report of thy wanton­nesse, else hadst thou béen now aliue: all my cruelnesse against thée, I now déeply repent, and for thy deare hearts blood by me so rashly spilt, shall bee satisfied with the liues of many soules. Hereupon, shee in a furie commanded the Messengers head to bee stricken off, and seuen Seruitours to bee hanged all at the Court Gate, and afterward caused their limbes to be set vpon high Pooles by the Common high wayes side, as an example of her indignation.

Neuer after this houre (such is the remorse of a guiltie conscience) could shée sleepe in quiet, but strange visions of this Lady (as shee thought) seemed to appeare to her: the least noise that she heard whispering in the silence of the night, did she imagine to bee some Furte to dragge her to Hell, for the death of this good Lady: the Windes (as shee imagined) murmured foorth Reuenge, the running Riuers hummed foorth Reuenge, the flying Fowles of the Ayre whistled out Reuenge: yea euery thing that made noyse (in her conceit) gaue remorse for Reuenge: and till that her owne life had gi­uen satisfact on by death for the rume of so swéet a Ladyes life, no food could doe her good, no sléepe quiet her braine, no pleasure content her minde, but Despaire with a terrible countenance, did euermore attend her, willing her sometime to throwe her selfe head-long from the top of a Tower, some­time by poyson to end her dayes, sometime by drowning, sometime by hanging, sometime by one thing, sometime by a­nother: but at last in the middle of the night, hauing her heart déepely ouermaistred by dispaire, shee tooke a Girdle of pure Arabian Silke, which Girdle shee first word on her Princely Nuptiall day when King Arthur marryed her: this fatall Girdle shee made a riding knot of, and therewithall vpon her Bed post shee hanged her sefle. Thus blood (you sée) being guiltlesse shed, is quitted againe with blood.

The Quéene being dead, was not so much pittied of the people, as the good Lady Angellica, little lamentation was made for her death; for euery one expected the like vntimely ende: but according to the aleadgeance of Subiects her Noblemen gaue her a Princely Funerall, and set ouer her an [Page] Iron Tombe, in signification that shee had an Iron heart, and Flintie conditions.

Heere will wée leaue the dead to their quiet restes, and re­turne to the Blacke Knight, and his Mother Anglitora, with the Indian slaue that attends them: sor strange bee the acci­dents that happen to them in forraigne Countryes: and af­ter, wée will speake what hapned to the Red-rose Knight on the Sea.

CHAP. 4 By what meanes Anglitora became a Curtizan, and how her Sonne the Blacke Knight lost himselfe in a wildernesie.

THE Blacke Knight, his Mother Anglitora, and the Blacke- [...] slaue, hauing happily cr [...]st the Seas, and ariued in a Countrey very [...]ertill to see to, replenished with all kinde of Trees and Fruit, yet were there no Inhabi­tants to finde, but onely an old Castle built of Flui [...] stones, the Turrets whereof were made like the Gre­cian Piramedes, square and very high: At this Castle gate they knocked so boldly (each one carelesse of all accidents that might vappen) as it rung into the Chamber were the Knight of the Castle lay: who immediatly sent a very low statur d Dwarffe to sée who knocked, and if they were stran­gers, to direct them vp into his Chamber to take such kinde courtesies as the Castle afforded: for indeed hee was a Knight of a bountifull condition, & full of liberalitie. The Dwarffe no sooner comming to the Gate, and espying people in such strange disguised attyres, neuer hauing séene the like before, without speaking one word, ran amazedly vp to his Master, certifiing him, that a kinde of people of an vnknowne nation was arriued, and that they séemed rather Angels (in shape) then any earthly creatures.

The Knight of the Castle hearing this, came downe and met them in a large square Court paued with marble stone, [Page] where hee kindly gaue them entertainement, promising them both lodging and other needfull things they were destitute of.

The thrée Trauellers accepted of his courtesies, and being long before weather-beaten on the Seas, thought themselues from a déepe dungeon of calamities lifted to the toppe of all pleasures and prosperitie; thus from this paued Court the Knight led them vp to his owne Chamber, wherein was a fire made of Iuniper wood & Frankinsence, which smelled ve­ry sweete: the walles were hung about with rich Tapestrie, whereon was writ the story of Troyes destruction, the Crea­tion of mankind, and the fearefull description of the latter day of Doome: likewise hung vpon the said wales, Instruments of all sorts of musicke, with such varietie of other pleasures, as they had neuer seene the like.

Now while these weary Trauellers tooke pleasure in be­holding these things, the good Knight caused his Dwarffe (which was all the seruants that hee kept) to couer the Table, made of Cypresse wood, with a fine Damaske table-cloth, and thereon set such dellicates as his castle afforded; which was a piece of a wild Fore, rosted the same morning, with diuers o­ther seruices of Fowles, whereof the Countrey had plentie: Their bread was made of the Almonds mixed with Goates milke (for no corne grew in this soyle) their Drinke, of the wilde grape, likewise mingled with Goates milke; which is in my minde, accounted restoratiue: to this Banquet were the Trauellers placed, where hauing good stomackes, they quick­ly satisfied hunger, & after began to chat of their aduentures what danger they indured by sea, & how luckily they arriued in that Countrey, giuing the courteous Knight great thanks for his kindnesse.

On the other side, when the Banquet was ended, euery one rising from the table, he tooke an Orphirian that hung by, and caused his Dwarffe to daunce after the sound thereof: the strings whereof hee himselfe strayned with such curiositie, that it mooued much delight, especially the Lady Anglitora, whose eyes and eares were as attentiue to the Melody, as Helle [...]s were to the inchaunting Musicke of the Grecian Paris. In this kind of pleasure consumed they most part of the day, till [Page] the bright Sunne began greatly to decline, then the Blacke Knight in a couragious spirit, said.

Sir Knight (for so you séeme to bee by your entertainement of Strangers) this Carpet kind of pleasure I like not, it disa­grees with my young desires: the hunting of vntamed Ty­gers, the Tilts and Turnaments of Knights, and the Bat­tels of renowned Warriours, is the glory I delight in: and now considering no other aduentrous exercise, may bee found in this Countrey, but only the hunting of Wilde beastes, I will into the Forrest and by manhood fetch some wilde Uem­son for my mothers supper.

The Knight of the Castle (séeing his resolution) furnished him with a hunting Iauelin, and so directed him to the For­rest, where most plentie of such pleasures were: God be his good spéed, for wee will leaue the Blacke Knight in his exer­cise, and speake of the wanton affections of Anglitora, and the Knight of the Castle, that they cast vpon each other: a short tale to make, whereas two hearts make one thought, the bargaine is soone made: the Knight of the Castle hauing not had the presence nor societie of a Woman in seuen yéeres before, grew as wantonly minded, as the Roman Tarquini­us, when hee rauished the chast Lady Lucretia. On the other side, Anglitora hauing the venome of disloyaltie, grew so pli­able to his desires, that at his pleasure hee obteined that loue which in former times the Red-rose Knight aduentured his life for; she that in former times was accounted the worlds ad­miration for constancie, was now the very wonder of shame, and the by-Word of modest Matrons: this was the first dayes entrance into their wanton pleasures, which in all daliance they spent till the Sunne had lost the sight of the Earth: then expecting the returne of the Blacke Knight, from Hunting, they sate as d [...]murely, as they had béen the chastest liuers of the world▪ not a glance of wantonnesse passed betwixt them, but all modest and [...]iuill behauiours; in this sort stayed they attending for the returne of the Blacke Knight, but all in vaine: for hauing a wilde Panther in chase, hee followed so farre in the vnknowne Forrest, that hee lost himselfe, all that night trauelling to finde the way foorth, but could not; sléepe [Page] was to him as meate to a sicke man; his steps were number­lesse, like the starres of heauen, or the sands of the Sea: his deuises for recouerie little preuailed, the further hee went, the further hee was from returning: thus day and night (for ma­ny dayes and nights) spent hée in these comfortlesse trauailes; no hope cheered his heart, no comfort bore him company, but his patient minde: and now at last, when hee saw all meanes fru [...]rate, hee resolued to liue and die in that sollitary Forrest: his foode hee made of the Fruits of trées, his drinke of the cleare ruaning water, his Bed was no better then a heape of Sun-burnd Mosse, his Canopies the azure Elements full of twinckling lights, his Curtaines a row of thicke branched Trees, the Torches to light him to his Bed, the Starres of Heauen, the Melodie or Musicke to bring him asléepe, the croakes of Rauens, or the tearefull cries of night Owles: the Clocke to tell the houres of the night, were h [...]sing Snakes, and Toades croaking in foggy grasse: his morning Cocke the cheerefull Nightingale, or the cherping Larke his compa­nions on the day, were howling Woolues, rauening Lyens, and the wrathfull Bo [...]res: all (as the Fates had decréed) as gentle to him in fellowship, as people of a ciuill gouernment: for to say troth, time & necessitie had conuerted him to a man of wild conditions: for his hayre was growne long and shag­gy, like vnto a Satyre: his flesh tanned in the Sunne as an Indian: the nailes of his fingers were as the tallents of Ea­gles, wherewith hee could easily climbe the highest trees: garments hee had not any, for they were worne out, & as wil­lingly was hée content with nakednesse, as in former times hée was with rich habiliments.

Thus liued hee for seauen yéeres in this desolate Forrest, by which time hee was almost growne out of the fauour of a man: where for a time wee will leaue him, and procéed to o­ther accidents, also wée will ouer passe the leawd liues of Ang­litora and the Knight of the Castle, nor speake as yet any more of their seauen yéeres adulterie; for numberlesse were the sinnes committed by them in those seauen yéeres, in that ac­cursed Castle.

CHAPTER. 5 How the Red-rose Knight found his Lady, and how he was most strangely murthered, and buried in a dunghill.

THE Blackamore slaue (as you haue heard) attended vpon them, like an obedient Ser­uant, and shewed all dutie and loue, till Ang­litora gaue her body to the spoyle of Lust, and from a vertuous Lady conuerted her selfe to a hated Strumpet, which vile course of life when the Indian perceiued, hée secretly departed the Castle, greatly lamenting the wrongs of his Master, the Red-rose Knight, whose noble minde deserued better at her hands. Day and night traualled the poore slaue toward Eng­land, thinking to finde his Master there, and to reueale that which hardly hee thought would bee beléeued by him: wearie and opprest with hunger went hée this long Iourney: many Prouinces hee passed through, before hée could learne the way towards England; and then was hée so farre from it, as at the first, when hée departed from the Castle.

The labouring Husbandman grieued not more to sée his Corne and Cattle taken by Théeues: nor the Marchant to heare of his Shippes suncke at Sea, then did this Indian at his vaine trauels, and wearisome Iourneyes to small pur­pose: so at last setting forward againe, hee came to the sea side, thinking to heare of some Shippe to giue him passage ouer: but alasse, one crosse falls after another, one mischiefe comes vpon the necke of another: and one mischance seldome hap­pens alone; so as this true hearted Negar stood beholding how the billowes of the Sea beate against her banckes, and the Whale fishes lay wallowing in the Waues: behold such a tempest suddenly arose, that by the force thereof, the poore slaue was cast into the Sea: but by reason of his Silken vaile tyde about his middle, and his great skill in swimming, (as most Negars bée perfect therein) kept himselfe from [Page] drowning: and as good fortune would, the same tempest droue the weather-beaten shippe to the same shore wherein the Red-rose Knight (his master) was, which Shippe had béene seuen yeares vpon the Sea in great extreamitie, and be­fore this tyde could neuer sée land. By that time the tempest ended, the Shippe floted to land, wherein was left but onely the Red-rose Knight in his Palmers wéede (for all the rest wer [...] starued vp for want of food) who being weake and fée­ble, [...]limbed to the top of the Hatches, where when hee had perce [...]ued the Negar labouring for life vpon the waters, cast out a long coard, and so saued him: whome when the Red-rose Knight saw, and perfectly knew, hée fell all most into a traunce for ioy, supposing his Lady and Sonne not to bee farre distant: but recouering his former senses, hée spake as followeth.

Oh blessed Neptune, hast thou vouchsafed to deliuer mée from the depth of thy bowels, and cast mée on land, where once againe I may behold my Anglitora, and my deare Sonne, the Blacke Knight. These seuen yeares famine in­dured on the Sea, hath béene a swéete pleasure to mée, in that the end brings mée to my desires. Full threescore of my mise­rable Companions in this Shippe, hath death seazed vpon, and through Famine, haue eaten one another, making their hungry bowels graues for the others Carcases; and though now this belly of mine (like the Canibals) haue béene glutted with humane flesh, and this mouth of mine tasted the blood of man: yet am I as pittifull as the tender hearted Mother, forgetting her Sonnes offences: and to my Anglitora will bee as kinde, as if neuer shée had trespassed: nor like the Grecian Helina, left her marryed Lord: So taking the Blackamoore by the hand. Hée demaunded of her welfare, and in what estate his Sonne remayned? The true hearted Negar could hardly speake for griefe, or vtter one word for teares: yet at the last with a wofull sigh, hée vttered foorth these heart-killing speeches.

Oh my noble Maister (quoth hée) by you from a Pagan I was made a Christian: by you, from a Heathen nation without ciuilitie, I was brought to a Land of Princely go­uernment; [Page] and by you, till my departure, was I maintained in good manner: there if I should proue periured slaue, and a false Uarlet towards you, my body were worthy to bée made foode for hungry Folvles of the Ayre, and for the rauening Beasts of the Fields: therefore now considering that dutie bindes mee to it, I will reueale such wofull chaun­ces; and such disloyall trickes shewed by your Lady as will make your heart tremble, your Sinewes shake, & your haire to stand vpright. Anglitora your Lady and Wife, hath disho­noured your Bed and polluted that sacred Chamber of secre­tie, which none ought to know, but onely you two: That ma­riage vow shee made in Gods holy Temple, hath shée infringed, and vntyed the knot of Nuptiall promise: in a Countrey farre from hence hath shee wrought this hated crime: in a Coūtrey vnpeopled liues shee in a Castle, which is kept vp a Knight of a wanton demeanour; there liue they two in adultery, there liue they secreatly sléeping in wantonnesse: and therefore these seauen yeares hath shée made her selfe the childe of shame: All this with extreame griefe doe I vnfold, and with a heart almost kilde with sorrow, doe I breath out the dutie of a seruant: if I haue offended, let my death make amends: for what I speake is truely deliuered from a heart vnfaigned.

All this time of this his sorrowfull Discourse, stood the Red-rose Knight in a bitter agonie, like one newlie dropt from the cloudes, not knowing how to take these discourte­sies: one while purposing to bée reuenged, and with his nailes to teare out the Strumpets eyes: another while, bewayling her weake nature, that so easily was woon to leivdnesse: but at last, taking to him (the vertue) patience, hee resolued to tra­uell to the Castle, & with his méek perswasions séeke to winne her former wickednesse, & to forget, forgiue, and cast out of remembrance all these her vnwoman-like demeanours, obser­uing the Prouerbe, That faire meanes sooner winnes a wo­man, then foule, Thus in company of his true seruant the Negar, hee tooke his iourney toward the Castle; where (after foure moneths trauell) they ariued; the Red-rose Knight) by the directions of the Negar, knocked, and in his Pilgrimes ha­bite, desired meate and lodging for himselfe and his guide.

[Page] The first that opened the Gate, was his owne Lady, who immediately, vpon the sight of them blushed, as though some sodaine feare had affrighted her; yet dessemblingly (colouring her acknowledge of them) shée in a charitable manner gaue them entertainement and conducted them to a by roame at the backe side of the Castle: into which place shee sent them (by her Dwarffe) victuals from her owne Table, with a com­maund, that the next morning they should auoyde, and neuer more trouble that place.

This message sent by the Dwarffe, much disquseted the Red-rose Knight, and droue such amaze into his minde, that hee grew ignorant what to doe: And séeing his appointed time very short to remaine there, hee now thought fit to strike whilst the Iron was hotte, and to discouer what hee was: so taking the Scarffe of Iewells and Kings tyed to his left side against his heart (which shée knew perfectly well to bée the giftes of her Loue) and by the Dwarffe sent them her: The which no sooner shee beheld, but shée openly sayd to thée Knight of the Castle, that their secret affections were discoue­red, and her Husband in the habite of a Palmer made abode in her House conducted thither by the Moore, to bring their shame to light, and to carry her thence to England, there to be punished for her sinnes. Heereupon the Knight and shee purposed the same night to rid themselues of that feare, and by some violent death sende the Palmer to his last abyding. Disquietnesse attended on all sides for that day, and euery houre séemed ten, till night approached; which at last came, though long lookt for. Then Anglitora in company of the Knight of the Castle, like vnto Murtherers, rose from their Bedds, euen at that houre of night when mischiefes are acted, when no noyse was heard but the barking of Wolues, the howling of Dogges, and the croaking of Night-owles, all assistance to blacke actions: In this manner came they into the Lodging of the Palmer who for wearinesse of his Iourneyes, most soundly slept, little dreaming that such cru­eltie; could be lodged in the boosome of his wedded Wife: one whose loue he had first gained with great daunger, and alwayes estéemed as deare as his owne heart blood. All signes of duty [Page] had shée obscured, not any remembrance had shee of Woman­hood: Marriage Loue was forgotten, their passed ioyes were as things neuer been: not any thought of remorse remayned within her; but shee more cruell then the new deliuered Bear, or the Tyger starued for meate, by the helpe of the Knight of the Castle, tooke the Scarffe of Iewells (sent her from him the same euening) and by violence thrust them downe the Pal­mers throat: by which meanes they bereaued him of life and without any solemnity due to so braue a man, they buried him in a Dunghill without the Gate, not shedding so much as one teare for his death: so great was the [...] of this his [...] full Lady. The poore Negar they set vp to the middle in the ground so surely fastned, that by any meanes he could not stirre from thence, where wée will leaue him wishing for death. The Red-rose Knight, or rather the vnhappy Palmer, in his vn­christian like Graue, and the Knight of the Castle with the murtheresse Anglitora, to their surfetting Banquets of sinne, and returne to the Blacke Knight, which had lost himselfe in the Woods.

CHAP. 6. How the Blacke Knight being lost in a wildernesse became a wild man? how his Fathers Ghost appeared vnto him, and in what manner hee slew his owne Mother.

BY this time the Blacke Knight grewe so naturall a Wilde-man, as though hée had béene bredde in the Wildernesse: for day by day hee sported with Lions, Leo­pards, Tygers, Elephants, Unicornes, and such like kinde of Beasts, playing as familiarly with them, as in King Ar­thurs Court hée had done with gallant Gentlemen. But marke how it hapned one day aboue an other: Hee chaun­ched to walke downe into a Ually, where hee set himselfe downe by the Riuers side, and in humane complaints be­wayled his owne estate, how beeing borne and breed of a [Page] Princely Race, discended royally should thus consume his dayes in sauage sort, amongst Wilde beasts, and by no meanes could recouer his libertie, or frée himselfe from that solitary Wildernesse, Being in this distresse of mind, a suddaine feare assayld him, his heart shiuered, his haire stood vpright, the Elements seemed to looke dimme, a terrible Tempest tore vp huge trees, the Wilde Beastes roared and gathered on a heape together, Birdes fell liuelesse from the ayre, the Ground as it were trembled, and a sodaine alteration troubled each thing aboue him: in this amaze sate hée a good time, mar­uelling what would ensue; at last there appeared (as hée ima­gined) the Ghost of his Fa [...]he [...] new [...]y murthered with a coun­tenance pale and wan, with hollowe eyes (or none at all) gli­ding vp and downe before him casting such fearefull frownes, as might make the stoutest heart in the world to tremble: and at last, setting himselfe before the Blacke Knight, spake as followeth.

Fearenot my Sonne, I am the Ghost of thy murthered Father, returned from Plutoes hollow Region: I came from that burning Kingdome where continually flames an euer­lasting Furnace; from the fearefull Pitte▪ come I to thee for reuenge: Oh thou my Sonne, if euer gentle Nature were plyant in thy boosome: if euer thou tookest pleasure to hearethy Fathers honours spoken of; if euer thou desirest to haue thy life meritorious in this world, take to thee thy ne­uer failing Courage, and reuenge my death vpon thy adulte­rous Mother: thy Mother now liuing in the filthinesse of shame, making the Castle where shee now remaines in, a lustfull stewes: there was I murthered, and there buried in a stincking Dunghill; no man gaue mee Funeral teares, nor any sorrowed for my death: I that haue dared Death in the face, and purchast Honour in many Kingdomes, was slaine by my owne Wife, by my néerest Friend, by my se­cond selfe, by Anglitora, by her whom the whole world ad­mired for vertue: Rise (deare Sonne) rise, and hast thée to that Castle polluted with the shame of thy wicked Mother: Rise I say, and let the Pauements of that Castle, be sprinke­led with their detested blood, the blood of that Monster that [Page] hath not onely dispoyled my marriage bedde of honoured dig­nities, but like a tyrant to her owne flesh hath murthered mee. Sée how the angry Heauens (as it were) doe threaten my Reuenge: hearke how Hell-Furies doe howle and roare for Reuenge: my Wiues Adulterie at the hand of Heauen de­serues Reuenge: My bléeding soule (Oh my Sonne wandreth in vnquiet paths, till thou workest Reuenge: my death and murther cries ( [...]) for Reuenge: then feare not (Sonne) to act it; for duty, loue and nature bindes thée to it, By Heauen, and by that great immortall Throane of happinesse: By that low Kingdome of eternall paines; By the huge watrey Seas I past to fol­low her: By Earth and by the Soules of all the mortall men that euer dyed, I commaund, [...]ha [...]ge, and constraine thée to perseuere in this Reuenge, Hence to that foule de­famed Castle, defamed by Adulterie defamed by Murther; there to my Soule doe thy latest dutie: there, wound thy cursed Mothers breast, there sacrifice her liues blood, there appease thy Fathers Ghost insenst with furie; so shall my Soule in ioy, enter the Fields of faire Elizeum: But if thou prouest coward-like, and through feare deny to execute my glorious Reuenge, from this day hence-forth shall my pale, wan, leane, and withred Ghost with gastly lookes, and feare­full steps, pursue and follow thee. These were the words of his Fathers Ghost: and hauing spoken these words, with a grieuous groane, hee vanished. At this his sodaine departure, the Blacke Knight cryed with a loud and fearefull voyce saying.

My noble Father, stay; Oh stay thy hasty steppes: once more let mee heare thee speake. Whether flyest thou? Oh let me heare thy voyce againe: It will not be, He is vanished; and my Mother liues as a shame to all our generation. Oh thou staine of woman-hood: Oh thou bloody Lionnesse: Oh brutish act: Oh beastly desires: Where shall I now finde a place to shed teares in? for my heart is rent into tenne thousand pieces, and the terrour of this déed, is too intol­lerable. Rest thou in peace, sweete Father: thou in thy life wert both wise and valiant: thy vertue, wisedome, and man­hood [Page] made the very enemies to loue thée: Oh then, what fortune hadst thou, to die by the friendly trust of thy owne Wife, my disloyall Mother, thy neerest friend proud thy greatest enemie; and by a Womans mallice, that heart was killed, that millions of Foes could neuer daunt. Oh sweete Red-rose Knight, most happy hadst thou been to haue dyed [...] the Fields of bloody Warre, and seal'd thy liues quittance [...]mo [...]est renowned Souldiers: then had thy death béene more honorable, my wicked Mother had not murthered thée, nor I béen inforst to take such bloody vengeance, as I intend (deare Father) for thy sake: for let mée neuer breath one day longer, nor view the next Mornings rising Sunne: let mée neuer liue imprisoned in this Wildernesse, let nothing prosper that [...] I [...]ake in hand, and here let the worlde end, if I cease to prosecute a mortall Reuenge, as the soule of my Father hath commaunded. Hereupon hée set forward toward the Castle, conducted by what chaunce the Heauens has allotted him: not one steppe hée knew aright, nor what course to take to finde the direct way: but it hapned, that a [...]igni [...] fatuus (as hee thought) or a goeing Fire, led him the right way out of the Forrest directly to the Castle where his dishonest Mother made her abode. But comming néere vnto the Gates, hée found all close, and neere vnto the Castle the Black-moore set halfe way quicke into the earth, hauing (for want of foode) eaten most part of the flesh from his armes; whom the Blacke Knight soone digged vp, and kept aliue, to be a furtherance to his intended reuenge.

The poore Indian, being thus happily preserued from d [...]ath, reuealed all that had happned in the said Castle; how his Mother liued in adultery, how his Father was murthe­red, why himselfe was set quicke in the earth; and lastly, for the loue of his dead Master, hée protested to conduct him through a secret Uault into the Castle, that in the dead of the night they might the easier accomplish their desired re­uenge: Thus lingring secretly about the Castle till the middle of night: a (time as they imagined) to bée the fittest for thée tragicall businesse: at last the midnight houre came, and through a secret Cell they entred vnder the Castle into [Page] the Lodging where his Father was murthred. This is the place (quoth the Negar) where my sad eyes beheld thy Fa­ther both aliue and dead; so goeing from thence into the Chamber (which by chaunce, and as ill lucke had appointed) was through negligence left open, hée shewed him the Bedde where these Adulterers lay secretly sléeping in each others Armes, Oh dolefull sight, This lust, hath made mée father­lesse, and ere long this Weapon shall make me motherlesse: [...]o kneeling downe vpon his knées, in a whispering manner hee said vnto himselfe. Yée lowring Destinies, now weaue vp the Webbe of their two liues that haue liued too long, You infernall Furies, draw néere: Assist me thou reuengefull God Nemesis, for on this Sword sits now such a glorious Reuenge, as being taken, the world will applande mee for a louing Sonne. Hauing spoken these words, hee sheathed his Sword vp to the hiltes in the boosome of the Knight of the Castle, who lying in the armes of Anglitora, gaue so deadly a groane, that shée immediatly awaked: first looking to the Knight that was slaine in her Armes, thou percciuing her Sonne standing with his weapon drawne; yet wreaking in the blood of the dead Knight, meanacing likewise her death, with [...] wofull shrike she breathed out these words,

Oh what hast thou done my cruell Sonne? Thou hast [...]laine the miracle of humanitie; and one whom I haue chosen [...]o be my hearts Parramour, and thy second Father.

Oh Lady quoth the (Blacke Knight) for Mother is too proud a title for thée: what Furie driueth thee to lament [...]he deserued death of that lewde blood shedder, and not ra­ther choose with heart-renting sighes, to bewaile the death of my Father, thy renowned Husband, whose guiltlesse body, euen dead, thou didst dispise, by buring him wh [...]anly vpon a [...]ounghill; but Heauen hath graunted, and Earth hath agréed [...]etesting both thy misdéedes, and hath sent mée to sacrifice thy blood vnto the Soule of my murthered Father, Whilst hée was speaking these words, Anglitora arose from her bed, and in her smocke which was of pure Cambr [...]ke) shée knéeled to her sonne vpon her bare knées, saying.

Oh thou my deare Sonne, whom once I nourisht in [Page] my painefull wombe, and fedde thée with mine owne blood, whom oft I choycely dandled in my armes, when with lullababyes and swéet kisses I rocked asléepe: Oh fatre bée it from thée (my louing Sonne) to harme that breast, from whom thou first receiuest life: Of thée (my Sonne) thy Mother begging life. Oh spare the life, that once gaue thée life, with bléeding teares, I doe confesse my wanton offen­ces, I doe confesse through mee thy Father dyed: Then, if confession of faults may merit mercie, pardon my life. Ob­scure not thy renowne with cruelty, making thy selfe unkind and monstrous in murthering of thy Mother. I charge thée, by thy dutie that thou owest mee; by all the bondes of loue betwixt a Mother and a Sonne, by all the kindnesse shewed to thée in thy infancy, let thy mother liue that begs life vpon her bare knées: Doe not thou glory in my miseries: let not my teares whet on thy cruellnesse: let not thy minde bée bent to death and murther: bee no [...]age Monster: bee not vn­naturall, rude and brutish: let my intreates preuaile to saue my life: wound not the wombe that fostred thée, which now I tearmed wicked, by onely fostring thee, what childe can glut his eyes with gazing on his Parents wounds, and will not faint in beholding them.

Hereupon the Blacke Knight not able to indure to suffer his Mothers further intreaties, least pittie and remorse might mollifie his heart, and so graunt her life (which to Heauen to take away hée had déepely sworne) hée cut her off with these deadly words.

Lady, I am not made of Flint nor Adamant; in kinde re­gard of calamitie, I am almost strucke with remorce: but dutie must quite vndoe all dutie: Kinde must worke against kinde, all the powers of my body bée at mortall strife, and séeke to confound each other, Loue turnes to Hatred: Nature turnes to wrath, and Dutie to Reuenge: for mée thinkes my Fathers Blood with agroning voice, cryes to Heauen for Reuenge: therefore to appease my Fathers angry spirit, here shalt thou yéeld vp thy déerest blood. Here was hee rea­dy to strike, and with his sword to finish vp the tragedie: but that his grieued soule in kinde nature plucked backe his [Page] hand: whereupon with a great sigh he sayd.

Oh Heauens; how am I grieued in minde. Father for­giue mee, I cannot kill my Mother And now againe, mée thinks I sée the pale shaddow of my fathers Ghost glyding before mine eyes; mée thinkes hée shewes me the manner of his murther; mée thinkes his angry lookes threatens mée and tels how that my heart is possest with cowardice, & chil­dish feare; Thou doest preuaile, O Father euen now receiue this sacrifice of blood and death; this pleasing sacrifice, which to appease thy troubled soule, I heare doe offer. And thus in speaking these words, with his Sword hée split the deare heart of his mother; from whence the blood as from a gush­ing Spring issued. Which when hee beheld, such a sodaine conceit of griefe entred his minde considering that hée had slaine his owne Mother, whom in duty hee ought to honour aboue all liuing women, that hee rather fell into a frenzie thē a melancholy; and so with a pale countenance and gastly lookes, with spartling like to a burning Furnace, began to talke idlely.

What haue I done? Whome hath my bloody hand mur­thered? Now woe vnto my soule for I am worse then the Uiperous brood that eates out their Dammes wombe to get life vnto themselues: they doe but according to nature, I against all Nature; for I haue digged vp the boosome that first gaue mee life. Oh wicked wretch; where shall I nowe hide my head? for I haue slaine my selfe, in killing her: I haue staynde this Chamber héere with humane blood The Heauens abhorre me for this déed: The World condemnes mée for this murther, and Hell Furies will follow mee with shame and terrour: The Gods are grieued, Men (me thinks) [...]ie my company: dead Ghosts arise in my distresses: I see my Mother comes with a brest bléeding, threatning confu­sion to my fortunes. Oh thou vgly Spirit, cease to follow mée, torment me not aliue, for the wrath of Heauen is fal­len vpon my head. Dispaire, where art thou? I must finde thée out, I will goe seeke thee through the world: and if in the world I finde thee not, Ile saddle winged Pegasus, and scale he mantion place of loue. I will ransake all the corners of [Page] the [...]kie. I will throwe downe the Sunne, the Moone, and Starres: then leauing heauen, I will goe seeks for Des­paire in the loathsome poole of Hell; there in Plutoes Court will I binde blacke Cerberus vp in Chaines, the triple-hea­ded Helhound, that Porter of Hell gates, because hee let Des­paire passe from thence. In this frantike sort ranne he vp and downe the Chamber, and at last with the nayles of his fingers hée fell to graue vpon the Stone walles the picture of his Mother, imitating Pigmalion, hoping to haue life breathed into the same. Meane while the poore Indian with fleshlesse armes heaued vp towards Heauen, and on his bare knées, made his supplication to the Gods, for the Blacke Knights reco­uery of his wittes.

Oh you angry Heauens (quoth hee) reuoke your heauy doomes, forget this crime, forgiue this vnnaturall murther: pittie the state of this distressed Knight, and send some meanes to recouer his senses. Thou bright Lampe of Heauen, thou eternall light, although in iustice we haue deserued thy wrath, yet let my prayers, my neuer ceasing Prayers, my heartes renting Sighs, my déepe inforced Teares, worke some remorce from thy incensed ire, that either this Knight may re­couer his lost senses, or set him frée from death. Thus in a zea­lous manner prayed the poore Negar, desi [...]ing God to lay the Knights fault vpon his head, and reclaime his vnbridled rage: which Prayer was soone regarded by Heauen, for the Blacke Knight had immediatly his madnesse turned into a sad melancholly; and in a more gentle manner made his sad la­mentations, as you shall heate in the next Chapter.

But now the Negar, that all the time of Anglitoras mur­ther stood in a traunce, beganne now a little (considering the fright hee tooke at the Blacke Knights madnesse) to summon againe together his naturall senses; and perceiuing the vn­chast Lady dead, cold, pale, wanne, lying weltering in her goare, and the blood of her false heart (shed by her owne child) all besprinckled about the Chamber, sayd as followeth.

Now (quoth the Negar, betwixt life and death) haue you showne your selfe a dutifull Sonne, and nobly reuenged the death of your Father. These were the last words of the poore [Page] Indian; which as then s [...]nke downe, and neuer after breathed▪ Thereupon came f [...]orth the Dwarffe of the Castle, with great store of treasure, proffering the same to the Blacke Knight; who nothing thirsting after couetousnesse, refused it, and with­all tooke the Dwarffe in satisfaction for the Negars death, and crammed the treasure downe his throate; and after buryed the two Seruants together in one Graue. This being done he digged vp his Fathers body from the Dunghill, and brought it to the Chamber where his mother lay and after in an Ab­by yard belonging to the Castle, he buryed them both likwise, in one Graue. This being done, hee knéeled thereupon, and made his complaint in this manner.

CHAP. 7 Of the Black Knights melancholy lamentations ouer the graue of his Parents; and of other things that hapned.

OH thric [...] happy for euer-more bee this ground that containes the bodyes of my vnfortunate Parents; for this Earth hath receiued the swéete Darling of Nature, and the onely de­light of the whole World; the Sunshine of Christendome, and the glory of Mankinde: Oh thrice happy be the grasse, that from hencefoorth shall grow vpon this Graue: let neuer Sithe touch it, nor crafty [...]urking Serpent with venemous breath, or deadly poyson, hurt it: Let no Lyons pawes, nor Beares foot, tread vp­on it: Let no Beasres Horne in any manner abuse it: Let no Birds with pecking, nor créeping filthy Uermine, no win­ters nipping Frost, no nightly falling Dewes, no rage of the par [...]hing Sunnes heate, nor Starres, haue power from Heauen: nor fearefull Tempest nor horrible Lightning, in any manner annoy it: Let no Plough-man driue hither his weary Oren, nor Shepheards bring hither their Shéepe, least by the Bulls rage it bee harmed, or by the harmelesse Shéepe it be eaten: but let it for euer grow, that the display­ing thereof may reach to Heauen: and may from hencefoorth [Page] this Graue be euer accounted sacred: and may the Grasse bee euer sprinkled with swéet Waters. Some good man vpon this Graue set a burning Taper, that then for euery anguish of my heart, I may beate my Breasts, till my Fistes haue strucken the winde from my body; and that my Soule may beare them company into Elizium. Come you wanton fleshly Satyres: Come you friendly Fawnes: Come you Fayries and Dryades, and sing swéet Epitaphes; lift vp your voyces to Heauen, and let your prayses bée in the honour of my Parents: my selfe like a wan, pale, and dead man, will beare you company: I will wearie the World with my com­plaints: I will make huge Streames with my Teares: such Streames, as no Banke shall barre: such Streames, as no Drought shall drye. But alasse what doe I meane to repeate these seuerall lamentations: since my deare Parents bée dead: since from the world they are parted: since they are buried without solemnitie: since my delights are all inclo­sed in the Grounde: yet will I still here make my com­plaints, though no good ease comes thereby, adding teares to teares, and sorrowes to sorrowes. Oh frowning For­tune. Oh vnlucky Starres. Oh cursed day that euer I did this déed, for now no sence, nor knowledge, takes their vnsensible bodyes of my griefes: in this Graue there is no féeling: in Death there is no pittie taken. Oh thou Siluan­nus thou commander of these Mountaines, helpe mee poore helpelesse soule to shed teares: for my religion, for my deuo­tion and Countries sake helpe mee: either let me haue some comfort in my sorrowes, or let me in Death, beare my Pa­rents company. Thou séest what Torments I suffer; how my heart trembles, how my eyes flow with teares, how my head is with teares possest, how my Soule is full of horri­ble anguish: all this thou séest, and yet it little grieues thée to sée it. Oh thou churlish ground, from hencefoorth cease any more to beare Fruit: cease to be deck't with Flowers, cease to be mantled in Gréene, for the purest Flowers are withered. Thy Garlands are decayed: my deare Parents are too vntimely bereft of life: their sweete bodyes thou harborest, and in thy wombe deliuere [...]st them as a food vnto [Page] Wormes. Therefore thou cruell Earth, howle andmourne, for thou art vnworthy of such blessed bodies. And now, oh you pittifull Heauens, heare my complaints, conuey them to the Soules of my deceased Parents: for my lamenta­tions by the gentle Windes, are blowen from the East vn­to the West: the dry Land, and the Watry Seas, are witnes­ses to them: Therefore no day shall rise, but it shall heare my complaints: no night shall come, but it shall giue eare vn­to my mo [...]nes: neither day nor night, shall be frée from my heart-breaking cryes. If that I groane, mée thinkes the Trees are bended, as though they pittied my teares. The very Ground (for griefe) I sée alters her complexion. All that I heare, all that I see, all that I feele, giues fresh increase to my sorrow. I will neuer hencefoorth come in peo­pled Towne, nor inhabited Cittie, but wander all alone vp and downe by low Uallyes, and sleepy Rockes: or I will dwell in darke Dennes frequented onely by Wilde Beastes, where no path of man was euer séene, or to the Woods I will goe, so darke, and beset so thicke with shaddow branches, that no Sunne may shine there by day, nor no Starre by night may be seene, whereas is heard no voyce, but the out­cryes of horrible Goblings, the balefull shrikes of Night­owles, the vnlukie sounds of Rauens and Crowes; there shall mine eyes bee made watry Fountaines; there will I make such plaints, as Beasts shall mourne to heare them; such plaints will I make, as shall rend and riue strong trees, make wilde Panthers tame, and mollifie hard flinty stones: And if by chance that sléepe oppresse mee, on the bare and cold Ground shall these wofull limbs rest: the gréene turffe shall, serue as a Pillow for my head: boughs and branches of trées shall couer me: and then I hope, some venemous Serpent wil spéedily giue mee my deaths wound, that this my poore soule may be released from flesh and blood: by which meanes I may passe to those Fields, those faire Elizium Fields, whereas my murthered Parents daily resort. In this manner com­plained the Blacke Knight vpon his Parents graue, thrée dayes and nights together, still knéeling vpon the cold ground and could not by any imagination bee comforted: euery thing [Page] his eyes beheld, renewed fresh sorrow, and drew on new la­mentations: but at last, the Powers of Heauen intending to graunt him some ease, cast his distressed Senses into a quiet slumber: where lying vpon his fathers graue, wee will let him for a time rest.

CHAP 8. How the Fayerie Knight came to be called the Worlds Triumph, Of his ariuall in England, of the two Knights deaths, and of the Proue rbe vsed of three Cities in England.

YOu haue read in the first part of this Histo­rie, how the Fayerie Knight the Sonne of Caelia, begot by the Red-rose Knight, was committed (by his Mother at her death) to the keeping of the Ladies of the Land: for then was there but few Men liuing, being a Countrey onely of Women: and now being of lusty age, and a Knight of renowned valoure, he betooke himselfe to trauell: the onely cause to finde his Father, or some of his kindred whom he had neuer seene.

Many were the Countries he passed: but more the dangers hee indured: all which for this time, wee omit: onely a little speake of thrée guifts giuen him by an Hermite, that had thrée excéeding Uertues: For comming to an Iland to séeke aduentures, it was his chance to saue a young beautifull Mayden from rauishing by a satyricall Wild-man: for he ha­uing tyed the golden locks of her Hayre to two knoity bram­bles, and being ready to take his venerall pleasure vpon her, the Fayerie Knight comming by, and séeing that dishonour and violence offered to so young a Uirgin, with his Sword at one blow, paired away the Wild-mans head, and so went with the Mayden home to her Fathers house, which was an Hermitage some mile distant off: where being no sooner come, but the good old man, hauing a Head more white then Siluer, but a heart more heauier then Lead, by reason of the [Page] want of his daughter, so cruelly taken from him, began at her sight to be so cheered, that he had not the power (for ioy) to speake a good space, but at last, taking the fayerie Knight by the hand, he led him to an inward roome, where hee banqueted him with such chéere as his Hermitage afforded; and after in [...]ew of his daughters reschew, hee gaue him thrée such Gifts, and of thrée such Uertues, as the like seldome had Knight. The first, was a King, which whosoeuer did weare, should neuer dye by treason. The second a Sword; that on what Gate soeuer it strucke, it would presently fly open. The third and last, a viall of such Drinke that whosoeuer tasted, should sodainely forget all passed sorrowes.

Hauing receiued these thrée Gifts of the good old Her­mite, he departed, and trauelled without any aduenture till he came and found the blacke Knight afléepe vpon his fathers Graue: which when the Fayerie Knight had awaked, in coun­tenance they were so alike, as Nature had made them both one, (for indéed they were Brothers by the Fathers side, the one true borne, the other a Bastard) yet at the first sight, such a secret affection grew betwixt them, that they plighted their [...]aythes to each other, vowing neuer to part friendships. But when the Blacke Knight had reuealed his birth & parentage, his Fathers name, and place of birth, the Fayerie Knight re­solued himselfe, that he had found a Brother, as well in nature as condition: But when hee heard the story of his Fathers life, and the manner of his death, with the murther of Angli­tora his vnchast wife, hee could not choose but shed teares, whereof plenty descended from his faire eyes: whereupon hée tooke occasion to speake as followeth.

Heauen rest thy swéet soule (my vnknowne Father,) and may the fruite of thee proue as famous in the World as thou hast been; but more fortunate in their Mariage choyse: As for my Stepmother, though her vnchast life baue made her in famous to all Womankinde, yet this in charitie I de­sire, that when shee comes to Plutoes Realme, that Proser­pine may send her to the blessed fields of Elizium; in re­membrance of whom, in this world, (if euer we ariue in that noble Countrey of England, where my Knightly Father was [Page] borne,) wee will there erect her a stately Tombe: yet no Epitaph) shall show her disloyall life, nor the cause of her death: onely in Letters of beaten Gold, shall remaine in­grauen vpon her Tombe, the name of, Anglitora Daughter to Prester Iohn, and Wife to the worthy Red-rose Knight. Hereupon hee gaue his new-found Brother (the Blacke Knight) his Wall of Drinke which the Hermit had giuen him: who no sooner had tasted, but all former gréefes were forgotten: hee remembred not the death of his Father, nor the murther of his Mother, nor what sorrow hee had sustay­ned in the Wildernesse: but like a ioconde Knight, gyrt his Sword round about him, and stood on Thornes till hee was set forward to seeke Martiall aduentures. Hereupon these two Knights departed toward England, and performed ma­ny noble deeds of Chiualrie by the way; But amongst all others, being in the Turkish Court (this is worthy to bée noted) for with one Boxe of the eare, the Blacke Knight kil­led the Turkes Sonne starke dead: for which cause, by treason were their liues conspired, and the following night, had their Lodging entred by twelue of the Turkes Guard, with an in­tent to murther them: but by reason of the inchaunted Ring, in the which they put both their little fingers, the Guard of a sodaine fell all fast in a traunce: hereupon the two Knights departed the Turkish Court, But no sooner were they out of the Citie, but a troupe of armed Knights pursued them, and followed them so néerely, that they were forced to enter a Castle that stood by the Sea side, wherein no creature had abyding: comming to the Gate, the Fayerie Knight with his Sword strucke thereat, an it presently opened: where­in being no sooner entred, but the armed Knights of the Tur­kish nation closed them fast in, and caused the Gates to bée walled vp with Free Stone, and so departed. Now were these two Knights in more danger of death, then euer they had beene in all their liues: and sure they had starued, had not good pollicie preserued their liues: for the Castle walles were so high, that none durst venture downe without great danger. As in greatest extreamity, mans wit is the quickest for inuention; so the two Knights cut off all the Hayre from [Page] their heads which were very long) and therewithall made a­long [...]oo [...]sted Line or Cord, with the which they slid from the top of the Wall to the Ground. But this mischaunce hap­ned; as the Fayerie Knight glyded downe, the Coard broke, and his body tooke such a violent blow against the stonie Ground, that it strucke the breath quite out of his body, no life by the Blacke Knight could bee perceiued, but that his soule was for euer diuided. This of all misfortunes, was held the extreamest; therefore in great griefe hee breathed foorth this lamentation.

Oh you partiall Fates (quoth hee) Oh you vniust De­stinies: Why haue you reft two liues by wounding one? Now let the Sunne forbeare his wonted light. Let Heate and Coulde, let Drought and Moysture, let Earth and Ayre, let Fire and Water, be all mingled and confounded together: let that old confused Chaos returne againe, and heere let the World end. And now you Heauens this is my request, that my Soule may presently forsake this flesh: I haue no soule of mine owne, for it is the soule of the Fayerie Knight, for but one Soule is common to vs both: then how can I liue, ha­uing my Soule departed, which spightfull death hath now separated? Oh thou my Knightly brother, though the Fates deny to giue thée life, yet in spight of them Ile follow thée. You Heauens receiue this halfe soule of my true Friend and let not life and death part vs; with Eagles wings will I flye after him, and in Ioues cele [...]iall Throane ioyne with him in friendship. We two in life were but one; one will, one heart, one minde, one Soule made vs one: one life kept vs both aliue, one being dead, drawes the other vnto death: there­fore, as wee liued in loue, so will we dye in loue; and with one Graue wee may interre both our bodyes: How glorious and happy were my death, to dye with my beloued friend: Now doe I loath this life, in liuing alone without my deare Bro­ther: whereupon drawing his Sword from his side, hée sayd.

Oh thou wofull Weapon, euen thou shalt be the meane, to ridde my soule from this prison of body. Oh faith vnfaigned; Oh hand of sacred friendship: I am resolued both with the force of Heart, Hand, and Armes, to giue my Heart deaths [Page] deadly wound; for now my noble Fayerie Knight, this blood I offer vp vnto thy Soule. But being ready with his Sword to pierce his owne heart, hée saw a liuely blood spread in his friends face, and those eyes that were so dolefully closed vp, began now to looke abroad; and the countenance that was so pale and wan, receiued a fresh complexion: whereupon the Blacke Knight stayed from his desperate resolution, and from a bloody tragedian, became the recouerer of his brothers life; who after a while, began to be perfect sencible: so binding his bruzed bones together, they went a Shipboard on a Shippe that lay at anchor at the next Port, making for England, so the next morning (the wind serued well) the Pilots hoysted sayle, merily floting on the waters.

Ten wéekes had not passed toward the finishing of a yéere, before they ariued on the Chaulkie cliftes of England; vpon which they had no sooner set footing, but with their warme lippes they gently kissed the cold earth, This is the Land of promised glory (said the Fayerie Knight) to finde this Land I haue indured many miseries: to find this Land I haue passed many Countries, and in this Land, must I seale vp the last quittance of my life, here shal my bones rest, for I am lawfully descended from the loynes of an English Knight: peace bee in my ende, for all my dayes haue béene spent in much trouble.

In such like discourses left they the shore side, & trauayling further into the Land, they met with one of King Arthurs Knights, named Sir Launcelat Dulake, so old and lame that through his bruises in chiualry, hée séemed rather an impotent creature, then a Knight at Armes; yet at the sight of these two aduenturous Knights, his blood séemed to grow young: and hée that before, could not march a mile on foote for a King­dome, now went as tiuely as any of the two other Knights did. First came they to London, where for their fathers sake, they were (by the Gouernours) most gallantly entertained: the stréets were hung round with Arras hangings, and Tape, strie workes: Pagiants were builded vp in euery stréet, the Cond [...]nts ran with Wine, and a solemne Holy-day was then proclaimed to be kept yearely vpon that day. To speake of Banquets prepared for them, the Tilts and Turnaments, [Page] and such honourable graces, I thinke néedlesse. In London in great content stayed they some twenty dayes: in which time came noble messengers from the Court to conduct them to the King that then raigned: for since the Blacke Knight and his mother departed the Land, hapned thrée changes, euery one maintaining the ancient honour of King Arthurs Knights of the Round Table, whereof these two in presence of all the Nobilitie, were in Knightly sort created.

After this, the King ordained a solemne Iusting to be kept in his Court, & held in great honour for fortie dayes: to which Knightly sports, resorted the chiefest flowers of Chiualrie from all Countries, as Kings, Princes, Dukes, Marquesses, [...]arles, Lords, and Knights; and for chiefe Challenger and Champion for the Countrey, was the Fayerie Knight: who for his matchlesse man-hood therein showne, had this title giuen him by a generall consent, to bee called, The Worlds Won­der.

After this, being desirous to sée the Citie of Lincolne, where the Red-rose Knight was borne, hee in company of his Brother & true friend, the Blacke Knight, and old sit Lancelat Dulake, rod thither, at whose comming into the Citie, the great Bell (called Tom a Lincolne) was rung an houre, which as then was seldome showne to any, excepting Kings, and re­nowned warriours, returning victoriously from bloody [...]at­tles. Here builded they a most sumptuous Minster, which to this day remaines in great magnificence and glory. Likewise here builded they a most stately Tombe in remembrance of their Parents: the like (as then) no place of England afforded.

Thus hauing left the noble feats of Chiualry, they liued a life zealous, and most pleasing to God: erecting many Alms­houses for poore people, giuing thereto great Wealth and Treasure: And when nature ended their dayes, they were bu­ried in the same Minster, both in one Tombe: which like­wise was so richly set vp with Pillars of Gold, that aboue all ot [...]er Cities, it grew the most famous: whereupon since that time, hath this old Prouerbe of thrée Cities gr [...]wn com­mon, which is vsed in these words: Lincolne was, London is, and Yorke shall be.