NO maruell though the wise man ac­compted all things vnder the sun vain, since the chéefest creatures be mortall: and no wonder though the world runne at randon, since iniquitie in these later dayes hath the vpper hand. The altera­tion of states if they be look into, and the ouerthrow of houses, if they be but easely laid in open viewe, what eye would not shed teares to sée things so transitorie? and what wisedome woulde not indeauour to dissolue the inconuenience?

There is a state within this our Common wealth, which though it necessarily stand as a piller of defence in this royall Realme, yet such are the abuses that are growen in it, that not onely the name is become o­dious by somes errour, but also if the thing be not nar­rowly lookt into, the whole lande by that meanes will grow into great inconuenience: I meane the state of Merchants, who though to publyke commoditie they bring in store of wealth from forein Nations, yet such are their domesticall practises, that not only they inrich themselues mightelye by others misfortunes, but also eate our English Gentrie out of house and hame. The generall facultie in it selfe, is both auncient and law­dable, the professours honest and vertuous, their actions full of daunger, and therefore worthy gaine, and so ne­cessarye [Page] this sorte of men be, as no well gouerned stat [...] may be without them.

But as among a trée of fruite there bée some withe­red fallings, and as among wholesome hearbes there growes some bitter Colloquintida: so it cannot be, but among such a number of Marchaunts, there shoulde bee some, that degenerate from the true name and nature of Marchaunts. Of these men I write, and of none o­ther, my inuectiue is priuate, I will not write gene­rall: and were it not I respected the publyque com­moditie more then my priuate prayse, this matter shoulde haue slepte in hugger mugger. Of these vn­gracious men I write, who hauing nothing of them­selues, yet greedelye graspe all things into their owne handes.

These be they that finde out collusions of Sta­tutes, and compasse lande with commoditie, these bée the boulsterers of vngracious pettie Brokers: and by these men (the more is the pittie) the prisons are reple­nished with young Gentlemen: These bee they, that make the Father carefull, the mother sorowfull, the Sonne desperate: These bée they that make crooked straight, and straight crooked, that can close with a young youth, while they cousen him, and féede his hu­moures, till they frée him of his Farmes. In briefe, such they bée that glose most fayre then, when they ima­gine the worst, and vnlesse they bee quicklye knowen, they easelye will make bare some of the best of our young Heires that are not yet stayed, whome zealous­lye I be [...]eech to ouer-looke this my writing: for what is sette downe héere, eyther as an eye witnesse I will auowe, or informed euen by those Gentlemen, who haue swallowed the Gudgen, and haue bene intangeled in the hooke, I haue approouedlye sette downe.

[Page 2]Such bée those sorte of men, that their beginning is of naught, sette by the deuotion of some honest Marchauntes, of whome taking vp their refuse com­moditie, they imploye it to this vngodly and vnhonest purpose.

They finde out (according to theyr owne vayne) some olde soaking vndermininig Solicitour, whom they both furnish with money and expence, to sette him foorth and gette him more creditte: This good fellowe must haunte Ordinaryes, canuasse vp and downe Powles, and as the Catte watcheth the praye of the Mouse, so dilygentlye intendes hee to the com­passing of some young Nouice, whome by Fortune eyther hée findeth in melancholyke passions at the Ordinarye, or at pennilesse deuotion in Powles, or perhappes is brought acquaynted with him by some of his owne brotherhoode. Him he handeleth in these or such lyke tearmes, both nothing place and circum­staunce.

GEntleman, why bée you so melancholye? Howe falleth it out, that you are not more lyghtsome? Your young yeares mée thinkes shoulde loathe such sollome aspectes. I maye not anye waye imagine a cause why you shoulde bee pensiue: you haue good Parents, you want no friendes, and more, you haue lyuelyhoodes, which considered, trulye you committe meere follye to bée so meruaylouslye sadde and wonderfullye sorrowfull, where you haue no oc­casion.

If you want money, you haue creditte, (a gift which who so euer inioyeth nowe a dayes, hee is able to compasse anye thing: and for that I see so good a nature in you, (if proferred seruice stinke not) I will verye willynglye (if so bée you will open [Page] your estate to me) further you in what I may, and per­haps you shall finde your selfe fortunate, in falling in­to my companie.

The young Gentleman, vnacquainted with such like discourses, counting all golde that glysters, and him a faithfull frend that hath a flattering tongue, opens all his minde to this subtill vnderminer, who so wringeth him at last, that there is no secrete corner in the poore Gentlemans heart, but he knoweth it: after that, framing his behauiour to the nature of the youth, if he be sad, sober: if youthly, riotous: if lasciuious, wanton: he laboureth so much, that at last the birde is caught in the pit-fall, and perceiuing the vaine of the youth, he promiseth him some reliefe by his meanes: the Gentleman thinking he hath God almightie by the héele, holdes the Diuell by the toe, and by this meanes, is brought to vtter wracke and ruine. The Broker furnished of his purpose, hauing learned the Gentle­mans name, lodging, want, & welth: & finding all things correspondent to his purpose, hies him to his setter vp, who reioyceth greatly at his good happe, and rewards this wicked seducer with a péece of gold. To be briefe, at first issue on the Gentlemans bonde, this broking knaue receiues fortie or fiftie poundes of course commo­ditie, making him beleeue, that by other meanes monie maye not be had, and swearing to him, that there will be great losse, and that he could wish the Gentleman would rather refuse then take. But the youth not estee­ming the losse, so hee supplye his lacke, sets him for­warde, and giues the willing Iade the spurre, who fin­ding all things meate in the mouth, makes sale of this Marchaundize to some one of his greatest fraternitie, and if it be fortie, the youth hath a good peniworth if in ready money he receiue twentie pound, and yet the mo­ney repayable at thrée moneths ende. The Broker in this matter, getteth double fée of the Gentleman, [Page 3] treble gaine in the sale of the commoditie, and more, a thousand thankes of this diuellish Usurer. Truly Gen­tlemen, it is wonderfull to conceiue, (yet are there some of you can tell if I lie) how this Sicophant that helpt our youth to get, now learneth him to spend: What saith he? my young master, what make you with this olde Satten doublet? it is soilde, it is vnfit for a Gen­tlemans wearing, apparell your selfe as you shoulde bée, and ere fewe dayes passe, I will acquaint you with as braue a dame a friend of mine, as euer you knew. Oh how sweete a face hath she, and thus dilating it with rethoricall praises, to make the Gentleman more passionate, it falleth out that the mand Fawlcon stoops to lure, and all things are fulfilled according to his Brokers direction. Promises are kept on both partes, and my youth is brought acquainted with Mustres Minxe: this harlot is an old beaten dogge, and a main­tainer of the brothell house brotherhoode, a stale for young nouises, and a limme of Sathan himselfe, whose behauiours and iestures are such, as the world cannot imagine better, if the Gentleman wéepe, she wil waile: if he sorrow, she will sigh: if he be merrie, she will not be modest. To conclude, her lesson is so taught her, as she can recken without booke: Lorde what riotousnesse passeth in apparell, what lauishnesse in banketting, what loosenesse in liuing, and in verie short space, our youth which was fligge, is nowe at leake, his purse [...]is emptie, and his mistres begins to lowre, which he per­ceiuing, & earnestly bent to continue his credit with his Curtisan, comes to his vngratious Broker, whom with faire tearmes he desireth, and with humble suites more earnestlye beséecheth to further his credite in what hée may. Who séeing which way the Hare windeth, begins to blame him of his liberalitie, and yet only is the cause of his spending, and after a few priuie nippes, bearing shew of good meaning, but yet indéed his way is to trie [Page] conclusions, hée hasteth to the principall his good maste [...] Merchant, whom he findeth altogether prompt & redy at a becke, to send abroad his refuse commoditye for crackt angels: what conclusiō is betwéene thē both may easily be imagined, but y^• end is this, y^• Broker returns to my solitarie youth, & recountes vnto him, first to make him feareful, how many places he hath ben at, when he hath not visited one, how many he hath desired, yet how few are redie to plesure, at last he breketh out, & telleth him y^• whole, assuring him y^• he is to think wel of his master scrape-penie y^• vsurer, who is willing in hope of his wel dooing to let him haue once more of his incōmodious cō ­modity, vpon resonable assurāce. To be briefe, y^• bargain is quickly beaten on, y^• broker laieth y^• losse, y^• gentlemā es [...]eemeth not so his néed be serued, y^• Merchaunt laughs at his folly in his sléeue, & to conclude, y^• bonds are deli­uered, y^e cursed cōmoditie receiued,& at this second mart, how spéeds our yoncker think you, perhaps of 50. pounds in ware, he receiueth 30. pounds in ready money, & yet y^• money repayable at three months end. O incredible & iniurious dealings, O more then Iudaicall cousonage, truely Gentlemen this that I write is true, I my selfe knowe the paymaster, naie more, I my selfe know cer­tainly, that by name I can recken among you some, that haue ben bitten, who left good portiōs by their parents, & faire landes by their auncestors, are desolate now, not hauing friends to reléeue them, or money to affray their charges. A miserable and wretched state is this, full of inconuenience, when such eie sores are not seene in a cō ­mon weale, when such abuses are winked at, when such desolation is not perceiued, & wonderfull it is, y^• among so many godly lawes, made for y^• administration of iu­stice, ther be none found out: for these couetous malefac­tors, purchase armes now, possesse y^• place of ancient pro­genitors, & men made rich by yoūg youths miss [...]idings, doe feast in y^• halls of our riotous young spend thrifts. [Page 4] It will be answered, it is y^• gentlemens owne folly, & I graunt it, yet of their folly who should beare the blame, truely the bier, who hauing experience to cousin, might haue also conscience to forbeare thē: nay among y^e rabble­mēt of such as we find to haue falne in their youth, how many experienced men find we at yeares of discretion? who hauing only y^• name of gentrie left thē to promote them to honor, & finding no reléefe any way, are inforced either in forren coūtries to end their liues miserably or desperatly, some more vngratious, are a pray for y^• gal­lous, choosing rather to die with infamie, then to liue to beg in miserie. But to leaue this to his place, & to re­turne frō whence we haue digressed: Our gentlemā ha­uing got new supplie, is pricked on to new sinne, & the minister of y^• diuel seruing, at his elbow, perswades him to new change, for varietie saith he, is meruelously to be admitted of, especially in such causes, & withall bringes him to a new gamester a wittie worldling, who more cunningly can handle him thē y^• first, & hath more shifts of descant for his plain song, (but this by y^• way is to be noted, y^• the broker hath his part of y^• gaines with y^• cur­tisan, & she cosins for them both,) this miniō so traineth our seduced youth in folly, as not only himselfe is at hir cōmand, but also his substance remaineth to her vse, this high prised cōmoditie is imploied to y^• curtisans braue­ry, & she which makes him brutish in behauior, doth em­ty his replenished purse: thus y^• eie of reson is closed vp by sensualitie, & the gifts of nature are diminished, by y^• disordinate vsage of bestly venery. Spuplies are sought for euery way, by his wicked broker, to bring him to ru­ine, & to work his vtter confusiō. Thus, thus, alas, y^• fa­ther before his eies, & in his elder yeres, beholdeth as in a mirror, y^• desolation of his owne house, and hearing of the profusenesse of his vngratious sonne, calleth him home, rebuketh him of his error, and requesteth account of his money misspended: Hee (taught and instructed [Page] sufficiently to coulour his follie by his vngodly mi­stres, and cursed mis [...]eader) at his returne to his father, maketh shewe of all honestie, so that the olde man lead by naturall affection, is almost perswaded that y^• truth is vntruth: yet remembring the priuie conueiaunce of his youthly yeares, & déeming thē incident to his young sonne, he discourseth with him thus.

O my sonne, if thou knewest thy Fathers care, and wouldest aunswere it with thy well dooing, I might haue hope of the continuaunce of my progeny, & thou be a ioy to my aged yeres. But I feare me the eyes of thy reason are blinded, so y^• neither thy fathers teares maye perswade thée, nor thine owne follies laide open before thine eyes, reduce thée, but that my name shall cease in thée, and other couetous vnderminers shall inioye the fruites of my long labours. How tenderly good boye in thy mothers lyfe wast thou cherished? How déerely be­loued? How well instructed? Did I euer entice thée to vice? Nay rather enforced I thée not to loue vertue? And whence commeth it that all these good instructi­ons are swallowed vp by one sea of thy follie? In the Uniuersities thy wit was praised, for that it was preg­nant, thy preferment great, for that thou deseruedst it, so that before God I did imagine, that my honour shuld haue beginning in thée alone, and be continued by thy ofspring, but béeing by mée brought to the Innes of Court, a place of abode for our English Gentri [...], and the onely nurserie of true lerning, I finde thy nature quite altered, and where thou first shuldest haue learnt law, thou art become lawlesse: Thy modest attire is become immodest brauerie, thy shamefast séemelynes, to shame­lesse impudencie: thy desire of lerning, to loitering loue: and from a sworne souldier of the Muses, thou art be­come a master in the vniuersitie of loue, & where thou knowest not anie waie to get, yet fearest thou not out­ragiously to spend. Report, nay true report, hath made [Page 5] me pri [...]i [...] to many of thy escapes, which as a Father though I couer, yet as a good father, tenderly I will re­buke. Thy portion by yeare from me, is standing fortie pounds, which of it selfe is sufficient both to maintaine you honestly and cleanly: besides this, you are growne in Arrerages within this two yeares no lesse then 100. pound, which if thou wilt looke into, is sufficiēt for thrée whole yeres to maintaine an honest familie. Now how hast thou spent this, forsooth in apparell, and that is the aptest excuse: and lauishnesse in that, is as discommen­dable as in anie other, if in apparell thou passe thy boundes, what make men of thee? A prodigall proude foole, and as many fashions as they sée in thée, so manie frumpes will they afford thée, counting thée to carrye more bombast about thy belly, then wit in thy head. Naye my sonne, muse not vppon the worlde, for that will but flatter thée, but weigh the iudgement of God, and let that terrefie thée, and let not that which is the cause of pride, nussell thée vp as an instrument of Gods wrathfull indignation. What account reapes a young man by braue attire? Of the wise he is counted riotous, of the flatterer, a man easily to be seduced, [...] where one will afford thée praise, a thousand will call thée proud, the gretest reward of thy brauerie is thi [...] sée yonder goes a gallant Gentleman: and count you this praise worth ten score pounds? Truely sonne, it is bet­ter to be accounted wittie, then wealthy, and righteous, then rich, praise lasteth for a moment that is [...]ounded on shewes, and fame remaineth after death, that procée­deth of good substaunce: choose whether thou wilt bée in­famous with Erostratus, or renowmed with Aristides, by one thou shalt beare the name of a Sacriledge, by the other, the title of Iust, the first maye flatter thee with similitude, the last will honour thée indéede, and more, when thou art dead. Sonne, sonne, giue eare to thy Fathers instructions, and grounde them in thy [Page] heart, so shalt thou bée blessed among the elders, and be an eye sore vnto thy enimies. A second griefe, nay more, a coras [...]ue to my heart (young man) is this, you are both prodigall in apparell, and in life, and vngratious and vngodly curtisans, (as I vnderstand) are become the mi­stresses of your mastership: & thinkest thou this report could come to thy Fathers eare, and not grieue him? Sonne, I had rather thou shouldest bée accounted foo­lish then amorous, for the one may be borne withall, the other is most odious. Incontinencie (yoūg man) is y^e root of all inconuenience, it dulleth the memorie, decayeth the bodie, and perisheth the bones, it makethstedfast fic­kle, beautifull deformed, and vertuous vicious: it im­payreth mans credit, it detracteth from his honour, and shortneth his daies, a harlots house is the gate of hell, into the which whosoeuer entereth, his vertues doe be­come vices, his agilitie is growne to slouthfulnesse, and from the child of grace, he is made the bondslaue of per­dition. The wisest by lewde loue are made foolish, the mightiest by lust are become effeminate, the stoutest Monarkes to miserable mecockes. I wot well (my child) that chast loue is necessarie, but I know (my sonne) that lecherie is horrible. A harlots wanton eie is the lure of the diuell, her faire spéeches, the snares of sin, & the more thou delightest in her companie, y^e more hepest thou the wrath of God against thy selfe: Let Lais looke neuer so dem [...]rely, yet Lais is Lais, measure not thy liking by lookes, for there be some holy diuells: to bée briefe, the end is this, he is best at ease that least meddeleth with anie of them. Demosthenes will not buie repentaunce so déere, as with high summes to purchase transitorie pleasures. and I had rather thou shouldest learne of a Philosopher, then bée instructed by thy owne fancie, marke this axiome, there is no vertue which is odious after it is attained to, but the pleasures of loue are then most loathsome, when they are determined: and there­fore [Page 6] no vertues: and to conclude, not to be sought af­ter. It is idlenesse my sonne, that seduceth thée: for the minde that is well occupyed, neuer sinneth. When thou enterprisest anie thinges, measure thine owne fortune by other mens successe: as thou considerest of theyr ends, so imagine of thine owne. Thinke with thy selfe the wisest haue fallen by loue, as Salomon, the richest, as Anthonie, the proudest, as Cleopatra, the strongest, as Sampson, and by how many degrées they did excéede thée, by so many circumstaunces preuent thy ruine. It is inough for sillie Birdes to be lead by the call of the Fowler, and for men it is most conuenient to flye ap­paraunt goods, & sticke to that which is indéede. Though thine eie perswade thée the woman is beautifull, yet let thy experience teach thée, shée is a Curtisan, and wilt thou estéeme of painted Sepulchres, when thou know­est certaine and determined substaunces? Doe we buie ought for the fairenesse or goodnesse? Spangled Hob­bie horses are for children, but men must respecte things which be of value indéede. I imploie my money vppon thée, not to the vse thou shouldest be lewde, but for that I woulde haue thée learned. It gréeueth mee to heare reportes of thy companie kéeping, for where thou offendest in the two formost, thou art altogether nusled in this, and truelye I can not but meruayle at thée, that béeing borne reasonable, to make election, thou art so vntoward in picking out thy choice: Agrée light and darkenesse? Or the I [...]knewmon with the Aspis? Doeth the Wéesell loue the Cockatrice? Or gentle borne, such as bee vngratious? No my Sonne, broking bugges are not companions for continent Courtyers: for who so eyther accompanyeth them, is eyther accounted a spende thrifte, or one that is Sir Iohn Lacke lande, eyther of their fraternitie, or else a verie foole.

[Page]Finde me out anie one of them, that in thy aduersiti [...] will helpe thée, or in thy misdemeanor aduise thée. Nay. such they are, as will rather binde thée prentice with Sathan, then exhort thée to eschew sinne. They bée the Caterpillers of a Common weale, the sting of the Ad­der, nay, the priuie foes of all Gentrie, and such they be, that if they get, they care not how vngodly, and if they cousen, they care not how commonly: So that thrée vi­ces haue nowe taken hold of thée, first prodigalitie, the enimie to continencie, next lasciuiousnesse, the enimie of sobrietie, and thirdly ill company, the decayers of thy honestie. The meanes to auoyde these euills are mani­fest, but they must be followed: it is not sufficient to knowe a fault, but it is wisedome to amend it: Humble thy heart (my sonne) to the highest, and the more thou considerest of him, the lesse wilt thou care for this flesh: For what is the body better by the gay rayment? truly no more then y^e soule is by superfluous zeale, for as the one is foolish, so is the other franticke. Leaue lust, least it lose thée, vse chast delights for they will comfort thée; it is better driuing a toye out of memorie by reading a good lesson, then by idlenesse to commit an errour, which is sawed with repentaunce. Of néedlesse euills make no accompt, y^• lesse you accompany y^e worst, the more wil you be sought to by the best. Easie is it to say well, but the vertue is to doo well: O my déere childe, as thy frend I exhort thée, and as thy louing father I command thée, to consider of the tender care I haue of thée, and to im­ploy all thy indeouours now to my comfort: if thou hast runne awry, call thy selfe home, and waye within thy heart the reward both of vertue, and the discredite by vice, so the honour of the one will incite thée, the infamy of the other will deterre thee. For those debts that haue ouerpast thee, in hope of amendement I will sée them satisfied, and if heereafter thou fall into the lyke lurch, I promise thée this, that as now I deale with thée as a fa­ther, [Page 7] so then will I accompt of thée as a reprobate. Thou séest fire and water before thée, chuse to thy liking: in dooing well, I will reioyce in thée, in dealing otherwise, I will nothing account of thée.

The, father with teares hauing ended this his exhor­tarie, is aunswered in humble sort of his dissembling sonne, thus.

Whatsoeuer (good father) hath passed, is irreuocable, but what is to come may be considered of: it is natu­rall in me to fall, and vertuous to recouer my selfe. I confesse good sir, I am guiltie of errour, and haue faul­ted highlye, yet not so greatlye as you intimate: the world now a dayes is rather bent to aggrauate then to couer escapes. Wherefore, as the first step to amende­ment is repentance, so (deare father) I am sorrie for that is past, and most earnestly request you to continue your fauour, and no doubt but your sonne shall behaue him­selfe héerafter to your comfort.

The father delighted with his sonnes discréete and humble aunswere, conceiueth hope of amendment, and returneth him to the Innes of the Court againe, and setting him on free foote, exhorteth him to follow vertue, and intentiuely to long after learning. But he, whose heart was pliable to receiue all impressions, no sooner is out of the view of his fathers house, but began to for­get his olde promises, and renewes the remembrance of his mistresse, deuising by the way how to delight her, and what sutes to prouide that may satisfie her. To bee briefe, being returned to London, and quit of his fathers seruants, (y^• newes of his arriuall being blazed abroad) his Broker in post hast comes and salutes him, his mi­stresse by tokens and swéete letters greetes him, hée maketh his marchant ioyfull in the receipt of the mo­ney, and mistresse Minxe merrie for the returne of her young copesmate.

To be briefe, in post hast he▪ posteth to her chamber, [Page] where Lo [...]d what friendly gréetings passe, what amo­rous regardes, how she blameth him of his delaye, and with fained teares watereth his youthly sace, howe shée sweares that she is constant, and yet a curtisan: howe she vowes she is continent, and yet common: truly it were a matter to make a Comedie on, to sée both their actions, and to note their discourses: there needes not many or long sermons on this, master Brokers help in short space is sought for: for the money my youths [...]a­ther gaue him, hath bought his mistresse a sute of the new fashion. The Broker readie at a becke, without delay furnisheth him with money: it is lamentable to report euery losse, and sith in another place I meane to set them downe, I will not motion them héere. In short space, our Marchant beginneth to looke after more assu­raunce, and where to fore he was content with obliga­tion, he now hunteth after statutes. (This kind of bond Gentlemen is well knowen among you, the vsurers by this time haue built mannor houses vpon some of your lyuelihoods: and you haue lost that for little, which will not be recouered with much.) The force whereof our youth considering not, so he haue foyson of money: the world to be short, at the last falleth out thus, both land, mony, & all possibilities, either by father or friends, are incroched vpon, by this gentle master Scrape-peny, so that now our youth finding neither suretie nor simi­litude, by his flattering vsurer is laid vp close for esca­ping. Let him write to his huswife Mistresse Minxe, she disdaineth him: let him intreate the Broker he re­fuseth him, let him make sute to the vsurer, he saith hée shall not cousen him: thus (this Gentleman that ney­ther by his fathers counsell woulde refuse, nor by his owne experience be perswaded, to auoyde the eminent daunger that hanged ouer his head, is brought to con­fusion, and those friends that fawned on him before in prosperitie, now frowne at him in his aduersitie: those [Page 8] that depended with flattering words in time of wealth on his finding, now altogether disdaine him that cannot finde himselfe. Loe Gentlemen what it is to winke at good counsell, and to preferre young attempts before old experience: sée héere the fruites of contempt, and lette these lessons serue you to looke into: had this Gentle­man regarded aduice, had he considered of his estate, himselfe had bene at libertie, his friends in quiet. But (alas the while) our heires new a dayes haue running heads, which makes their parents abounde in teares: some are led with nouelties in forreine Nations, some with prodigalitie in their owne Countrey: some with pride, the first fruites of all impietie: some by loue, the ladie of loosenesse. If one hunteth after vertue, how ma­ny hundreds doo dayly practise vice? Let the experience of this young Nouice (my youthly countrey men) make you warie, and sée but into this one parcell of his lyfe, and giue your iudgement of his misfortune: his wit was sufficient to conceiue vertue, yet knowing (with Medea) the best, he headlong runne to the worst. Na­tures giftes are to be vsed by direction: he had learn­ing, but hée applied it ill: he hadde knowledge, but hée blinded it with selfe opinion. All graces whatsoeuer, all ornaments what so they be, either giuen vs by our fore-parent, or grafted in vs by experience, are in them­selues as nothing: vnlesse they be ordered by the pow­er of the most highest. What care conceiue you, may be comperable to this young Gentlemans fathers sorrow? who séeth his house pluckte ouer his head: his sonne imprisoned to his great discredite, and the vsurer the onely gainer, and yet the most vilest person.

Nowe, what becommeth of our youth thinke you? his Father refuseth him, dispossessing the ryghte heyre of what hée maye, and poore hee is lefte desolate and afflicted in prison. And in these dayes how many are infected with this desperate disease, Gentlemen [Page] iudge you, I my selfe with teares haue heard some pri­uie complaints, and lamented my friends misfortunes, falne so sodainly. My good friends y^• are héerafter to en­ter into this world, looké on this glasse: it wil shew you no counterfait, but the true image of a rebellious sonne, and the rewarde of contempt▪ of parents; account your selues happie to learne by others experience, and not to be pertakers of the actuall sorrowe: Obey your pa­rents, for they loue you, trust not to straungers, for they will vpbraide you of their benefite; it is better to haue the stripes of a friend, then the kisses of a flatterer. Pla­to would haue young men to looke in the glasse, for two causes, the one, that if they founde themselues beauty­full in visage, and of exquisite stature, they might inde­uor to make the vertues of their minde, answerable to the liniaments of the bodie: the other, that if they found themselues of deformed shape, they should séeke to beau­tifie the same by the inward perfections of the minde; & for two causes my good friends, woulde I wish you to consider of this mans fall, and read his misfortune: the one, that not being yet nipped, you may preuent: the o­ther, that being but yet a little galled, you would holde backe.

As the Loadstone draweth yron, so let good counsaile conquere your affections, as the Theamides of Aegypt driueth awaie yron, so let the feare of God dispell all worldly plesures: If a simple man fall to decay, it may be borne withall, if a man of wisdome grow in arre­rages, may we not blame his follie? It is better to bée enuied then pittyed, for thou art pittied alwaies in mis­fortune, but en [...]ied at time of thy prosperitie. To bée briefe (Gentlemen) ouerlooke this aduisedly, & you shall finde many things worthy the noting, and no few mat­ters written for your cōmoditie. This miserable young man, ouerwhelmed thus on euerie side with manifolde [Page 9] and sundry cares, beholding his most vnfortunate state, in wofull termes in the prison house breketh into these complaints.

Alas vnhappie wretch that I am, that hauing a good father that did cherish me, a tried mother that tenderly nourished me, many friends to accompanie me, faire re­uenewes to inrich me: haue heaped sorrowe on my owne head by my Fathers displeasure, refused of my friends for my misdemeanour, & dispossessed of my land by my prodigalitie. O incestpous lust that enterest the hart, & consumest the bones, why followed I thée? & O vngodly pleasure why didst thou flatter me? O wicked and vngracious man that hast vndone me, and woe be vnto thée (vile wretch) that in my miserie doest thus leaue me. What shall become of me poore wretch? faine now would I begge that bread, which vainlye I haue spent: now too too late doo I sée, that fainednesse is no faith, and he that trusts to this world, cleaues to a bro­ken staffe. Alas, how should I attaine to libertie? or by what meanes may I escape my confusion? My Father hath accepted of another sonne, and all by reason of my lewdnesse: O that I had respected his vnfained teares, O that I had accepted his good aduice, O that I had re­iected my flattering friends. But I sée no hope is lefte me, my creditour is too cruell, yet hath he co [...]soned me: and faine would I be his bond slaue, woulde he release me: but since no hope is lefte me of recouerie of my E­state, I referre my cause to God, who as he will remit my offence, so will he redresse my miserie and griefe.

Whilest in these or such like tearmes, the poore young man bewayles his heauie happe, sodainly enters his cousoning creditour, and in outwarde shew bewai­lyng his misfortune, yet in very truth the onely ori­ginall cause of his destruction, comforteth him in these or such like termes.

Gentleman, the exigent and extremitie that you are [Page] now at, though it be most tedious vnto you, it is most lamentable in my opinion. These young yéeres to taste of sorrowe so soone, is straunge, considering all circum­staunces: but since the cause procéedes of your owne lewd misspending, mine be the losse in part, but the gre­ter must your affliction be. I hoping of your well doo­ing, neither denied your pleasure nor profite, yet in liew and recompence of all, I finde iust nothing: a few sub­scribed papers I haue, and some money I haue recey­ued, but nothing to my principall, and yet notwithstan­ding so fauourable wil I be vnto you, as if you procure me any one suretie I will release you. To léese my mo­ney I were loath, and to kéepe you héere it were more loathsome. I wold doo all for the best, not hindering my selfe, so you would straine your selfe to satisfie me some­what.

The Gentleman knowing in himselfe his vnability, beginneth in truth to open his state, protesting, that nei­ther of himselfe, nor by any one at the present he is to doo any thing, no not so much as if he released him to pay his charges, such is his miserie, in that all his frends had giuen him ouer, wherevpon most humbly he besée­cheth him, to way his cause, promising any seruice what so euer may be: if so be it will please him to set him frée. Mas vsurer smelling out the disposition of the youth, beginnes to bring him to his bowe after this sort.

The world at these dayes is such (my friende) as there is small respect had of those which haue nought, and great honour attributed vnto them, that will most neerly looke to themselues: which I perceiuing, haue gi­uen my selfe (as naturally men are inclined to séeke after glory) to the hoording vp of riches, to the end that my posteritie might be raised vp, and my fathers name (which as yet is of no accompt) might by my meanes become worshipfull. To perfourmaunce of this, trulye [Page 10] I haue neither ben idle nor euill occupied: my thoughts haue wholly bene set of gettings, and who so nowe a dayes hath not the like meaning, his purpose will grow to small effect. And though of my selfe, I doo what I may, yet (as it is necessary) I must haue ministers, wher by that which I looke for may be brought to my hands: otherwise, my stocke might lye without vsaunce to my vtter vndooing. Wherevpon, if thou wilt followe my direction and be ruled by my counsell, I will release thée of prison, and set thée at libertie: restore thée to thy wonted credite, and countenaunce thée with my coyne, so that in shorte space thou maist haue money in thy pursse, and other necessaries to set thée vp againe. Thou seest that now thou art miserable, but I will make thée fortunate: thou now art almost foodlesse, by me thou shalt be satisfied with the best: thy friends now disdain thée, the day shall come that they shall séeke to thée: now art thou without apparell, through me thou shalte bée costlye attired: naye, what pleasure soeuer thou shalt either imagine for thy preferment, or wish for to doo thée good, thou shalt both finde me ready to performe it, and friendly to continue it.

The Gentleman surprised with this sodaine ioye, and vnacquainted good speaches (not dreading that the Serpent laye hidden in the grasse) most willinglye as­sented, promising to the aduenture of his lyfe, (so his creditour woulde be his wordes master,) to doo his in­deauour to perfourme his will, as hée ought to doo. The Usurer séeing the minde of his prisoner, precise­lye bent to doo his commaunde, openeth his heart vnto him thus.

Gentleman, for that I haue an opinion of your honestye, and truste in your secrecye: I will open vnto you my minde, and according as I finde your aunswere, I will shape your deliueraunce. Such time [Page] as you were at libertie, you know you had acquain­taunce with manye Gentlemen, and they not of the meanest: who at sometimes as well as your selfe were destitute of siluer: such as those be you must finde out for me, I will delyuer you presentlye: apparayle you in print, giue you money in your pursse, and at suche an Ordinarye shall you lye, where the greatest resorte is: your behauiour and vsage towardes all men must be verye honest, especiallye in all causes looke into the natures of men. If you spie out any one Gentleman pensiue, enter into discourse with him, if you maye perceiue, that either by parentage or possession, hée is worthie credite, laye holde on him, feede him with mo­ney if he want, and (as though it procéeded of your own good nature) profer him to be bound for him: if he ac­cept your offer, come to me, I will furnish him: nowe you may deuide the commoditie or the money betwéen you, and out of your part (considering me after the big­nesse of the summe) take the rest for your owne fée: which if you looke into, in a yeare will growe vnto no small summe. This is the Load-stone must lead you: and by all meanes you must fashion your selfe to féede humours: this is an honest meanes to lyue by, this is a way to libertie, by this you may pleasure your selfe: and to conclude in dooing this, you maye mightelye in short space inrich me. When you haue found out one fit to your vaine, remember this lesson, that what so euer vauntage you get of him, either for me, or for your self, care not how little paper and inke he can shewe of yours, kéepe still your owne stake cléere. In these mat­ters you must be verie circumspect, for there be now a daies such vnderminers start vp, that scarce a man can imagine his owne profit but they preach it a broad, and laye it open. Thus doo you sée whereto you must trust: howe saye you nowe, will you be content to doo this.

[Page 11]The young man aunswereth, Good sir, there is no­thing that you haue sayde that by mée shall anie wayes be forgotten, I am readie and willing to put in practise what you haue taught, and no doubt you shall finde me so diligent, y^• your selfe shal say, you were happie in put­ting me in trust. In briefe the conclusion is this, the v­surer glad of this new Gentleman broker, dischargeth him, sets him a floate: now who so braue as our late pri­soner, or who so frolicke? The olde sorrowes are for­gotten, and new inuentions to cousin▪ possesse the recep­tacle of his reason. His olde acquaintaunce flocke about him, some reioycing at his recouered libertie, some wō ­dering at his sodaine brauerie, yet fewe suspecting his pretended and hidden knauerie. Of them some he salu­teth humblye, some ordinarilye, he was not so well in­structed, but it is as well performed. Now who but our Gentleman is a companion for the best, and a cousiner of the most, he staies not long before he be-prouided of a praie, whom he so ordereth, as himselfe is pertaker of y^• halfe, though the other be paymaster of the whole, and as those that are in the heate and extremitie of an ague, desire drink to satisfie their drought: so this young gen­tleman that is brought into bondes by one cousining spend thrift, hauing once entered foote in the high waie of prodigalitie, continueth headlong his course to his owne confusion. But by the way it is to be noted, that this Gentleman which is brought into the laps by our late prisoner, hath his possession & portion alotted him, so that our vsurer & his mate worke vpon sure groundes. Two or thrée Obligations and commodities receiued, our vsurer grows to new deuises, and sets his schollers to practise them, saith he, I must now haue you learne, to bring in this your friend to paie your debtes, and by this meanes you shall bring it about, you shall when next time he shall demaund your helpe, tell him that of me there will be had no money before your olde bondes [Page] be canceled, so that vnlesse he deale with me, by some meanes to acquit that, it is vnpossible to attaine vnto anie farther supplie. You may alleadge vnto him howe in such like extremities you haue stucke, and will sticke vnto him, and desire him in so easie a request he wil not leaue you destitute, by this meanes shall you be rid of your olde debts, and be as frée from inconuenience as e­uer you wer. No sooner hath our seducer learnt this les­son, but forth he trudgeth to find out this young master, if possible may be, if so be he as yet be stored, he doth ei­ther make him spend it or lend it, & vpō his new request of supply, openeth vnto him all the circumstance which before he had learned, & so cunningly handleth him, that the Gentleman desirous of money is easilye content. Wherevpon the matter is handeled thus betwixt the Merchaunt and this Gentleman broker to preuent in­conuenience, if the brokers bond be an hundreth pounds, the Merchant will lend fiftie more, and maketh y^• young man to seale an absolute bond as his owne debt, so that the desperate debte of the decayed co [...]soned, by his meanes is brought to be the true debt of this silly Gen­tleman. Naie when they haue fatted both their fingers, they leaue not thus, but from money shoote at land, for if the Gentleman haue 500. pound in stocke payable at 24. or 25. yeares, they will so worke as all that shall be their proper goods which they will recouer out of the executors hands, either by attachment or otherwise, and besides that, so cunningly will they deale, that although they haue sufficient assuraunce in hand alreadie, yet wil they not leaue till they get an other more sure string to their bowe, therby to compasse the poore Gentlemans lands, at his want they will deale thus. This Gentle­man and the broker must bée inuited by the Merchant, when amongst other table talke, M. Scrape-penie féeles my youth if his monie be gone, & offring spéeches of wil­lingnes to prouide him alwaies at his néed, sets on by a [Page 12] beck his cousoning mate, to procure y^• gentlemā to craue more mony, which he doth, y^e merchant cunningly coule­ring his craft, answereth him thus. Gentlemā you sée I [...]m far out already, & vpon your single bond I haue dis­burst a round sum of money, no lesse then 500. poundes, which in a poore mans purse as I am, is no small quan­titie, neuertheles if you wil affoord me farther assurāce, I wil not stick in redie mony once more to lend you 30. pounds. The gentleman neuer tofore vsed to receiue re­dy mony at y^• first hāds, begins to yéeld him harty thāks & humbly to pray him to demand & he will performe, for saith he, considering your honest dealing, I cannot think you may imagine any resonable assurance which I wil not seale to. Why the quoth y^• merchant, y^• matter stan­deth thus, if so be you will seale me an estatute for my mony, no sooner shal you haue done it, but you shal haue y^• mony, all your bonds in, & a desesance, to this y^• I offer is reasonable, & to morrow if you will I will doe it. A­greed quoth y^• Gentleman, & so takes his leaue, the next morrowe according to promise, the Gentleman sealeth the assurance, acknowledging an estatute, before some one Iustice of the bench, and comming to his Merchants house for his money, is delaied for that daie of, & in fine, his absolute answere is this, that without a suretie he promised him none: he takes witnesse of his friend (as he tearmeth him) a prety péece of witnesse, when he séeth no remedie, he demaundeth his bondes, & he witholdeth thē, he craues his deceasance, & cannot haue it. Thus is y^e poore Gentlemā brought into a notable mischiefe; first in being co [...]soned of his mony; next deluded by his esta­tute w^tout deceasance (for if y^• deceasāce be not deliuered y^• same time or daie, y^• statute is yet nothing auailable) thirdly by his bonds detaining, which may be recouered against him, & continue in full force; and the vsurer that playes all this rie, will yet be counted an honest and well dealing man. But flatter them who so list for me, [Page] I rather wish their soules health, then their good coun­tenances, though I knowe they will storme at me for o­pening their secrets, yet truth shall countenaunce mée since I séeke my countries cōmoditie. Héere you see two houses destroied manifestly, y^• one of them, from a Gen­tleman made a craftie cousoner; the other of them from a landed man, a silly poore wretch. And wonderfull it is to sée, considering the asperitie of the Penall statutes set downe by her Maiestie, and her honourables Péeres in the Parliament. How pretie collusions these cunning merchants can [...]ind to infringe them. One priuate prac­tise they haue in deliuerie of y^e commoditie, to make the condition of the Obligation thus. The condition, &c. is this, that if the within bound. T. C. his heires, executors or assignes, doe well and truely pay or cause to be paide to y^• aboue named M. S. the sum of 40. pounds of lawful mony of England, at his own dwelling house, scituated & being in Colman stréet, which he y^• sayd T. C. standeth indebted vnto him for, if so be that he the sayd M. S. or S. his wife be in life, y^• then. Otherwise, &c. Now in this cō ­ditiō, y^• casual mart bringeth it out of cōpasse of statute, thus by collusions M. Scrape-penie gathers vp his mo­ney. Others worke by statute and recognisaunce, ma­king their debter to discharge in their bookes of ac­count the receit of so much money, where indéede they had nothing but dead commoditie. Other worke by liues, as if such a one liue thus long, you shall giue mée during his or her life 10. pounds a yeare, for 30. pounds, and be bound to the performaunce of that by statute. O­ther some deale in this sorte, they will picke out among the refuse commoditie some pretie quantitie of ware, which they will deliuer out with some money, this sum may be 40. pound, of which he will haue you receiue 10. pound readie money, and 30. pounds in commoditie, and all this for a yeare: your bonde must be recogni­saunce, now what thinke you by all computation your [Page 13] commoditie will ar [...]se vnto, truely I my s [...]lfe knew him that receiued the like, and may holdly auouch this, that of that thirtie pounds commoditie, there coulde▪ by no broker be more made then foure nobles: the commo­ditie was Lute stringes, and was not this thinke you more then abhominable vsurie? Naie common losses, & y^• reasonablest is, for 36. pound for thrée months, accoun­ted a good penie worth, if there be made in redie mony, 20. pounds, naye passing good if they make 25. poundes, I haue knowen of fortie, but sixtéene pound, and tenne shillings. These be general payments, and receits, inci­dent to the most part of the young Gentlemen that I knewe deale that wayes: and truely I my selfe knowe within my time, no few number of Gentlemen, which are vtterly vndone by this meanes, and vnlesse this e­uill be preuented, and Gentlemen take not more héede, more will followe after. But if the punishment of these men were. In discretione Iudicis, notwithstanding the lawe were couloured with all by them, yet the consci­ence of the iudge woulde cut such ill members off. In former ages these things being knowen, were lookt vn­to, and now when most punishment is meanaced, vsurie is most practised. Well may we now sée that the craf­tie haue as many cautiles, as the discréet cautions. If we had as seuere lawes in England, as once in Athens Solon set downe, wée shoulde then cast a rayne ouer the head strong vnrulynesse of these Caterpillers: there it was not lawfull, the Father béeing liuing, that a­nye money shoulde bée lent vnto the sonne: who bée­ing vnder his Fathers gouernement, was not to bée ordered according to his owne lyking: and there who­soeuer did transgresse this lawe, it was ordayned that hée might haue no recouerye, nor bée reléeued anye waye by iustice, for that it was doubted, that the sonne hauing no wayes to aunswere that hée did owe, should eyther be inforced by practising coniurations in the Ci­tie, [Page] or exercising priuye thefte in his Fathers house, to ridde and discharge himselfe of the burthen of his debte.

The Aegygtians and Athenians séeing the errour of couetous vsurie to take footing in their prouinces, by approued iudgement concluded, that by no instrument, plea, execution, or other meanes in lawe, a bodie might bée detained: the originall béeing for corrupt gaines.

The Romanes, who not onelye inuented, but imitated those Lawes which confounded errour, by decrée of Senate, with the Athenians, in the verye same tearmes as they didde sette downe, that no money should bee lent to young heyres vppon interest, neyther allowing the detinue pleadable, nor the vsurie aunswerable, hauing a priuate eye into the vnmeasu­rable and gréedie intents of those couetous carles, who compasse the Fathers landes before the Sonne come to it.

In the Lawe of the twelue Tables, orders in this cause were prescribed, and directions set downe by the Tribunes: among whome, a man of rare ver­tue, Lucius Gomatius instituted and made a law, where in he enacted, that no vsurie, nor vsurers shoulde bée allowed.

Lucius Lucullus séeing this errour alreadye creapt thorough all Asia, and (lyke a wise gouernour) wyl­ling to preuent, not onelye made a Law to auoyde all occasion of vnlawfull games, but also appoyn­ted punishmentes to those that were subiect to the errour.

Tiberius Caesar as curious as the rest for com­mon good, didde with as greate circumspection as might bée, take awaye the cause, and displace the ef­fecte of this mischiefe: not suf [...]ering that to take [Page 14] heade in his gouernement, that was the capytall enimie of a well ordered State: Claudius Caesar not yéelding to his Auncestours in honourable acti­ons, renewed these Lawes: Vespatian continued them: and Marcus Antonius Pius, with Alexan­der Seuerus established them with publike instru­mentes: who to the fore-passed erroures by farther insight ioyned this, That by this vnlawfull get­ting, manye of the best and most auncient houses in all Italy, were brought to vtter ruyne, and con­fusion.

The Indians disdayning such seruile attemptes, not onely mislikie of lending, but also forbad borrowing, neither is it lawfull for an Indian to proffer, nor agree­able for one of the Nation to suffer iniuryes: disday­ning among them both the vse of oblygations, and the abuse of pawning.

Hatefull was this errour in Licurgus Common weale of Sparta, whereas not onely the name was o­dious, but also the thing it selfe was asperlye puni­shed.

Agis King of the same Citie, séeing the practises of the couetous to work so wōderfully as they séemed, not onely punished the attemters of vnlawfull profite, but also in the open market place, hée burnt all the bondes and Oblygations of the rich Bankers in the Citie.

In Thebes it was by statute [...]orbidden, that anye man should be put in office, that within tenne yeares before the election had practised any vnlawfull chaffe­ring.

The Germanes in theyr tarations of antiquitie: whereas they bounde the Théefe to restore double the thing he stole, they ordeyned that the vsurer shuld make recompence foure folde▪ for his iniurie. And in [Page] borrowing the felicitie of all these Countries, wée ar [...] not so happie, as to abridge those errours that they most mislykt off: But héere perhappes some curyous maintainer of vnnecessarie members will conclude, that the state cannot anie wayes bée hindered by ani [...] these actions, inferring that the dissolution of one fa­milie, is the setting vp of another: which in as many vertues maye match, and with as greate value im­ploie it selfe in the state, as the other that is decay­ed.

Héerevnto I shape this aunswere, that if it bée true, that the nobilitie of the Father worketh in the childe, I cannot sée howe these vpstartes maye anie waies employe themselues in honourable Actions, when as neither their auncestours euer knewe more then their Beads, or their Fathers other then vnlaw­full gaines: and howe canne it bée that where the minde onely worketh in seruile subiects, it should anie waies be eleuated to attempt honourable exploits? But be it these sorte of men are necessarie both in thēselues, & for their Countrie, which cannot be concluded, in that they be broken members: yet must they conclude by the (touchstone of truth) the Scriptures, that their necessari­nesse in this world, makes them vnnecessary for God: by whose presidents if they should leuell their lawes, I am afraid the graft wold be so stiffe in the bending, that it would be rather thought more necessarie for the fewell, then worthy the correction. In the most happiest man y^• euer was, whether philosopher or otherwise, I find this, y^• one onely blemish in his actions hath made them ben noted for an error: now if these men shuld in their en­terprises be ga [...]de into, I feare me y^• as in the black Iet is séene no white: in the deadlye poison is founde no preseruatiue: in the sprouting iuie, no fruite: on the vnnecessarie thistle no grapes: so in these men the mis­chiefe [Page 15] woulde be so manifest, that the shew of vertue would be extinguished. So that I can necessarily con­clude this, that both these sorte of men are vnnessarye for themselues, vnméete for their countrey, vnfit for a family, yea conuenient for nothing, but to present the painter with the true image of couetousnes. For them­selues how can they be profitable, in destroying theyr soules, and martering their bodies? in consuming them­selues with thought, in deuising of newe attemptes to delude. If they compare but their hearts sorrow, with their excesse gain, they shall finde this most certain, that the encombrances of the minde are so peysant, that they doo by oddes weigh downe their commoditie in the bal­launce. What is it to get good, and to loose happinesse? to enioye much riches, and little rest? to haue manye Lordships, and much hart-breake? Alas, what are the goods of fortune, that they should entice? or the plesures of the flesh, that they should allure? If our stately pal­laices were to continue permanent, if our worldly ri­ches were to make our after yeares renowmed, if eue­ry thousand of our ducates, were to benefit vs but with a hundred good precepts: I wold beare with couetousnes with the best, & practise it with the most: but since we sée that much hording cannot be without sinne, much get­ting without griefe, much profite without paine, much increase of goods, without decrease of vertues, I cannot but conclude with the philosophers, that the hoording vp of riches maketh many impressions of vices. And that those that are no wayes profitable for themselues, are not worthy the names of citizens in a state: whereas, when all things should be limitted by vertue, how can vsury be winkt at, when it is no way legitimate. Our lawes in this state, although they suffer a commoditie, yet confirme not they taking: concluding heerein, a meruaylous pollicye: to those haue in sight, which is, [Page] that leauing it euident, that where neither Lawe of God can limit them, nor disposing of right suffer them, nor preuention of errours withdrawe them from puni­shing this error, and not letting it slip, they as willyng to pul away by péece-meales, as to confound altogether: like wise Surgions eate out the dead flesh, by sundrye plaisters, and no sodaine corosiue, thereby wisely war­ning the wise to pull back by curtesie, and the indurate by beholding their forbearance, to feare the scourge when it shal come.

Yet some will héere adde and inferre, (though vnnecessarily,) that those whom I héere so asperlye re­prehend, are as religious as the best, haunt the Church with the most, at their buriall be as bountifull as the godliest, and therefore it may not be thought, that séeing so many goods, they should follow the bad. To whom I aunswere, If they heare correction of sin by often haun­ting of sermons, yet continue their wickednesse, when they know what it worketh, their actions are wicked, their liues dissolute, their endes desperate. For theyr bountie at their burialls, that is but their last action, & their best attempt: but if we looke into the considerati­ons of their benificence, I doubt not but we shall finde whereas their shooe wringeth them. If they are liberall to leaue them a memorie when they are gone, alas they striue against the streame: for this it will fall out, per­haps they shal haue a few poore womēs praicrs for their blacke gownes, but a thousande decayed Gentlemens curses for their high exactions. If they be bounteous in hope to recompence y^• which is past, alas it is as much, as to cast water to stop a gappe, or gather brambles to builde mannor houses. If they be lookt into in this their penie doale, we shall finde a kinde of impulsion in all thinges: Truely, truely, I feare mée, if Mas vsurer [Page 16] knewe he shoulde liue, hée had rother haue a fayre pawne for his foure nobles, then a thousand prayers of a poore woman: and the forfaiture of a Lease for his xx. poundes, then the funerall Epitaph of the vniuersi­ties for his last willes liberalitie. Since therefore im­pulsion forceth them to be bounteous, not frée will, libe­rall, we must accompt of them thus, that both they are both vnworthie praise, being vnwilling to be boun­tifull, and little to bée estéemed of, though their pretence bée neuer so perfect. What praise deserueth he that will proffer medicines to a whole bodie? or the spur to a wil­ling horse, or the raine to an vnwildie colt, or honor to a peruerse man: shall we conclude, because y^e vsurer is rich, he is righteous? Because wealthie? Wise: because sul of golde, therefore godly? I feare me it wil fall out that some of our scrape penies, are as worthie to be deliuered to perdition, as Sauanarota of Rome, of whom Marubus maketh mētion) who not satisfied with excessiue gain in his life time, at his death became a praie to diuells: It gréeueth me to consider of y^• vnhappie state of some, who like fine cloth are deuoured with these moths, like white rambricke are stained with this yron moulde: & silly birds, are deceiued with the call of this Fowler. O vn­happy state, staind with so vnprofitable members, whose féete tread the wayes of errours, mindes imagine mis­chiefe, heartes are indurate, confounding the fatherlesse, oppressing the widow, making all poore, and themselues onely rich.

A lamentable case it is, to sée howe true sim­plicitie, the maintainer of peace, is almost altoge­ther exiled out our common weale: and that world­lye wit doeth wade so farre, as heauenlye wise are brought into admiration of their mischiefe. In o­ther notable Gouernementes and common weales, this one vice hath hadde a fall, and héere where it [Page] should be most detested, it is most vsed. Great hath ben [...] our wisdomes in repression of cōspiracies, great our po­licies in maintaining of peace, circumspect our preuēti­ons to eschew mutinies: and yet the long time we haue laboured in this, yet dayly more and more it groweth to head: and whereas the other vices haue bene exter­minated by good looking to, this (though altogether loa­thed) is most lookt after. And in this case I must appeale to you (right Honorable) whose wisedome is continual­ly imployed, to the maintenaunce of our state: & craue you cast your eye aside, and but looke into the worlde a lyttle, lette your Herauldes Bookes be spied into, con­sider the state that hath bene, and now is: and I feare me there will some teares fall, and more care be concei­ued. Alas I know it well, that many auncient coates will be found there vncountenaunced, and it is to bee found out, that some sléepe on their beddes of downe, in those mannor houses, which were builded for the staye of some of our best noble seigniors. Nay, is it not true, that more are eaten out with vsury, then anye o­ther abuse whatsoeuer? And although Commissions are graciously graunted from her Maiestie, as a most mer­cifull Prince, and from your Honors, as most sage, fa­therly, and prudent tenderers of gentry, grown into po­uerti [...]: yet such is the contempt of some men, as they neither measure commaund, nor haue respect to consei­ence. The reuerend Fathers and eyes of Religion in this Common weale, how exclaime they on this vice, and pronouce the wrathfull threates of the Almightie against these vngracious gatherers? yet how slenderly they regard them, their manifest & notorious mischiefes beare record. So that it is to be feared, that when neither honourable command may controll them, nor diuine ad­monition reclaime them, they are growen into a repro­bate sense, and hane forsaken the Law of the Lord, and hunted after the whore, and are dronken with the ly­cour [Page 17] of her abhominations.

Noble Lords, may it please you yet a little more to giue me leaue, that as I haue manifested the mischeife, so (to my slender conceit) I may imagine a salue. The Nobilitie, Gentrie, and other heires whatsoeuer, either by reason of their Fathers tenour are wardes vnto her Maiestie, or else by the tender prouision of their Pa­rents, they are lefte to the discretion of their kinsfolke. For those that by her Maiesties prerogatiue, by y^• death of their Fathers, fall into her protection: the most part of them are begged by Gentlemen, and committed to their tuition: among whome, as there be some proui­dent and carefull to consider of the childes commoditie, so (I feare me) other some are selfe minded, and gréedie of their owne gaine: which if so be it fall out. I feare me the childe that is vnder this gouernment will hap­pely miscarrie, for if maintenance come from the pro­tector slenderly, the nature of the youth béeing noble, will couet after supplie, and so through the couetousnes of the one, growes the confusion of the other, and by this meanes growes y^e Gentleman into y^• Merchants booke in arrerages, when his warden furnisheth him not ac­cording his degrée and calling: but it may be, that there bée purposes imagined by the gouernour, and practised by the Merchaunt, so that the one will not bée pertaker of the shame, yet will he not sticke to beare part of the gaine. But to let further matters wittingly ouerslip, for that I finde it good to winke at somewhat: returne we to the other sortes of heires, lefte to the tuition of friendes: among whome there growe lyke inconue­niences, as in the former: for nowe a dayes kins­folkes are as couetous as others, and as craftye as the best, whose priuate conueyaunces the young heires knowe, and seuerallye when they be sought into, will [Page] open. But for the ordering of all these thinges, and the recouering of this state, it were conuenient that the Warden of the Wardes vnder her Maiesties pro­tection, should at the receit of the Gentleman, be bound according to the value, to the honourable, that haue authoritie in that case, for the vsage of the Gentle­man, and that certaine stipend might be set downe an­nuallye for his prouision, rather with the most then least, so that then it will fall out, that hauing sufficient of his owne, he will not depend on the supplie of an other. The like annimaduertion if it bée had in respect of the other, and the care of taking the bonds, and pre­firing the portion set downe by the direction of certaine Iustices of peace in euerie shéere, we shoulde haue lesse complaints to trouble your honours, and merchauntes should want young ministers to ridde them of their re­suse cōmoditie. I haue glaunced into a matter (my good Lord) which if wisdome consideratly looke into, there will growe an exquisite platforme. These causes right honourable are necessarie, and néedfull to be noted, and such they be, that no doubt they will be as beneficiall to the state, as anie other whatsoeuer. For by this meanes your honours shall be praised, the wardens wel thought of, the Gentlemen kept in good state, and the Merchant abridgde of his craftie dealings. I haue heard this cause lamented of among the most part of that profession, who loth their title should be attributed to so outragious dealers. If they will desire the name, let them vse the nature, & let not all the whole order bée blemished, by a few disordered dealers blame: but to leaue this to your honourable and graue consideration, and to returne to your curteous Gentlemen, to whome this matter most pertaineth, & for whose onely cause this pain is taken: I most earnestly beseech you looke into your owne states, & consider with your selues, the misery & mischiefe that groweth by these follies: consider y^• end of all these prac­tises [Page 18] which the vsurers doe put in vre, forsooth it is to make you beggers, where now your supplies be plenti­full, & to emptie your purses, where now they are reple­nished: consider of their mercy either it is imprisonment, or else libertie with more shame: weygh of their ends agréeing to theyr life: it was a pretie and wittie saying which was written.

Wish a couetous man no more mischiefe, then that he may liue long. For he dieth daily in care, and con­sumeth in thought: refraine prodigalitie, so shall you haue no need of thē: bée continent, so shall you be sought to of them: leaue them to their owne lusts, they are not of y^• Lord: let your garments be comely, & not costly: sor a comly continent man is more estéemed of, then a cost­ly spende thrifte accompted of. It is the vertues of your mindes, the perfections of your vnderstandinge, your intellectuall contemplacions, that makes you ac­counted of among the wise, and beloued among the learned: In your professions be studious, for y^• brings profit: an houre well spent, is better then a dayes plea­sure: eschew those things that may decay your memo­ry, & in euery good action cōtinue to the end: trust not to apparant goodes, beléeue not credulously y^• faire spoken, be as prouident to eschew trouble, as the enuious is prudent to procure your discomsort: looke on nothing that may altar you from a man, thinke on nothing that may mislead you, if you promise, performe it, but in pro­mising vse discreation: these be the fruites of expery­ence, learnt by some in sorrowe, and lette them bée practised by you in securitie Let not the garish shew of a present pleasure, the sillie shadowe of an earthly delyght, a transitorie similitude of a momentanye glorye, make you followe that which wyll coste you manye sighes and sundrye sorrowes (when you looke into your state, and see howe you are [Page] compassed of friendes, smilde vpon by fortune, beau­tified by nature, pefectd by art, when you perceiue care hath not yet forrowed your forhead: labour euen then to continue friendes, to make peace with fortune, to mainetaine nature, to studye arte, and béeing fréed as yet from trouble, fence your actions so strong, as they may neuer become troublesome. Aurelius in his Court seeing certaine Philosophers vsing vnséemely iestures, wagging their heads, toying with theyr garments, and stamping with their féete, gathering by their exteriour behauiour, how vnapt their actions were in respect of their precepts, exprlsed them the court, as vnméete to be preferred to honours. Although not Marcus Aurelius, but wise Saba now gouerning, think you that gracious Elizabeth cannot as well finde out a vain head vnder a wauing feather, a dissolute minde vnder a codpeece dub­let, a wanton thought vnder a straunge habite, as the Emperour vnder a lyght iesture? Yes truely (Gentle­men): no doubt but that eie y^• winketh at most things, séeth many, and that wonderfull capacitie that compre­hendeth so much discipline, cannot ouerslip the mislyke of masking brauerie. If one errour were as much ba­nished England, as it was Rome, neither should idle­nesse offer the couetous opportunitie, neither the idle be cousened by the couetous. It is idlenesse that ma­keth amorous, it is idlenesse that maketh fascionatine, it is idlenesse that bréedes excesse, it is idlenesse that destroyeth all humane happinesse the eye fixed on heauenlye contemplations, gazeth not on earthlye beautie, the thought occupyed on remembrance of moral preceptes, neuer vouchsafe the misdéemings of the fan­tasie: y^• bodie subdued by assidious trauaile, is neuer al­tered by the motions of the flesh: the hope grounded on immortality, hath not reference to an houres pleasures. So that man is neuer altered in himself, enimie of him­selfe, procurer of his parents troubles: but euen the [...] [Page 19] chiefly, whē idlenes is predominant, follypreferred, & fa­shions to féed fantasies allowed of. The meanes then to auoyd the Usurers booke, is to be continent: the way to be continent, is not to be idle: the reward of not béeing idle, is the daily increase of more knowledge: and the increase of more knowledge maketh a man happie. The sting of the Aspe confoundeth in slumbers, the venonie of idlenesse, waiteth carelesse opportumities: truly gen­tlemen, the first step to auoyd expence, is to grow in con­tempt of brauerie, which if our noble younge youthes wold practise for a while, it wold so fall out, y^• not onely vaine fantasies should cease, fonde fashions finde no fa­uourers, and the vsurer hauing his odde refuse commo­dities dead i [...] his hand, would either afforde better pe­niworths, or séeke for forreine traffique. But to leaue you Gentlemen to your good counsailes, and returne to you good master vsurers, whose eares glowe at the re­hearsall of these enormities, I must pray you giue mée leaue to make vp a conclusion, and to finish these fewe lines with an admonition for your cause; and though the corrections I vse be bitter, account of them the bet­ter, for why they be more cordiall. A gréedie desire of gayne, is the disease that infecteth you, some termes it thriftinesse, some néernesse, but in plaine tearmes, it is vsurie: and that is nought els but a gréedie desire of o­ther mens goods, and this by the commandement is for­bidden to be followed, and therefore irreligious are they that vse it. The man that coueteth gold, conceiueth not goodnesse, his appetite is of the earth, and those that are earthly minded, sauour not the things that are of God. What though you cloath your selues in simplicitie of Doues, and your inwarde habite be worse then the vo­racite of Wolues; he that made you knoweth you, and he whom you offend can (and will) punish you; you wil say you were naturally borne, (as Tully witnesseth) to take care for your selues, and to prouide Victum & ve­stitum, [Page] meate and clothing: and I graunt it, but wher [...] find you, either Ethinke, prophane, or sacred sentence, to confirme your extreame hoording vp of golde, yea then most earnestly, when you are most rich? The laboursome Ant gathereth not in excesse, but sufficient prouision for the Winter, yet without reason: and you which are rea­sonably borne, hoorde vp more, then orderly (at first sight) you well knowe howe to imploy. You long after Nabals vineyard with Iesabel, but the dogs shall deuour you in the gate: you heape house vpon house, land vpon land, Quasi numquam sit periturum soeculum, as though this world would last euer, but sodainly shal the wrath and curse of the Lord fall vpon you, and (without spée­die repenta [...]nce) he will consume you in a moment. O turne spéedely vnto the Lord, and put not off from daie to daie, least his wrath be hot against you, and he make you pertakers of the plagues of Chore and Abiram. Re­member your olde escapes that haue past you, consider of their falls that are decayed by you, and your selues if you haue anie contrition, and compunction of heart, wil lament the generall misfortune with me. Did you arise of nothing? Were you calde from base degrée to high e­state? From poore seruants wer you made rich masters? Why, your goods make answere, saying, you haue more then you can well spend, and I deeme the greater your talent is, the more you haue to answere for: but weigh in your selues, howe this greate masse of money grew vnto you: you must count that this Farme came to your handes by the forfayture of such a Lease: this money became yours, by the vertue of such an Obliga­tion: you haue scrapte vp this ready coyne, by making Centum pro cento: nay, you haue vndone these manye poore Gentlemen, onely by iuriching your selfe. Too true it is, (alas) (and wisedome priuately bewaileth it, to looke into your crueltie, and Gentlemenes folly) that [Page 20] many houses are decayed by your meanes, and that you are Lords of that, which should be the portion of more profitable subiects: whose miserie driueth them to trie conclusions in all places: and both to forsake their Countrey, I pray God not to alter their conscience.

Nay in these extremities that they are driuen into, which of you either reléeueth them? or comforteth them in their sorrowes? so farre are you (you worldlings) frō lessening their miseries, as that (Perillus like) you in­uent new tortures, to driue them from your doores, cal­ling them varabonds, and bride well birdes who in very truth were your best Masters and setters vp? but your selues with Perillus shall tast of the engines you haue prouided for others, and the Lorde shall pittie the fatherlesse, and comfort the afflict [...]d, when that dread­full daye shall come, in which the heauens shall be ope­ned, and the Sonne of man shall come to iudgement: how will the case then stand with you? shall your welth then acquite you? No, no; the Iudge is not partiall, he is iust in all his dooings, and true in all his sayings. In that day the horrour of your conscience shall con­demne you; Sathan whom you haue serued shall accuse you; the poore afflicted members of Christ shall beare witnesse agaynst you; so that in this horror and confu­sion, you shall desire the mountaines to fall vpon you, and the hils to couer you from the fearfull indignation of the Lord of hostes, and the dredfull condemnation of the Lambe Iesus. When it shalbe found out, that you wer rich, yet reléeued none: that you were of wealth, yet comforted none: that you rather replenished the prisons, then released the prisoner: that your life be sound saw­ced with crueltie, and no one action sauoring of mercie: the Lord shal place you among the goates, & pronounce his Ve against you, he shall thunder out this sentence, Goe you cursed into euerlasting fire, prepared for the [Page] diuell and his angeles. This is the reward of wicked­nesse, this is the punishment of crueltie: look vpon this therefore (you worldly minded men,) and consider of these sayings: harden not your hearts, but be you con­uerted, reléeue the poore, be harboursome, restore to the owner that you haue wrested from him, and turne, turne, turne vnto the Lord (I beséech you) least you pe­rish in your owne abhominations: and to conclude, ac­compt of me as your wel wisher, who for publike com­moditie haue opened your inconueniencs, and for bro­therly amitie, counsailed you to call your selues home: and I beséech yo as spéedely reclaime you from your errors, as I doo brotherly admonish you of your escapes. How happie were I that hauing lesse cause, might haue lesse matter to write on? And haplesse are you, if not won with these warnings, you giue more occasion to be written on: now stay you where you are, & alter your natures, and where you were accustomed to doo ill, now acquaint your selues to follow goodnes; and then it will thus fal out, that I which exclaimed vpon you for your vices, will then honour you for your vertues: & where in common assemblies your name growes odious, in publike audience, you maye be praised for your good life. The Lord send our Gentlemen more wit, our vsurers more conscience, and vngodli­nesse a fall: so Nobilitie shall not de­cay, but the sinner shal be reclai­med, and wickednes con­founded.

IN Memphis (the chiefest citie of Aegypt) a place most renowmed by reason of the opulencie of the princes that haue gouer­ned that Monarchie: at such time as Sisi­mithres was head Priest of the same, & Hidaspes gouernour of the Prouince, a noble Gentleman called Forbonius (highly accounted of for his vnreprouable prowesse, and among the best sort allowed of for his vnspekable vertues) made his abode, whose tender yeares not yet subiect to the experience of more riper iudgement (as the winding Iuie about the stately Oke) entangled it selfe with many amorous ob­iects, now allowing this choice, now approuing y^• per­son, straight admitting a third. But the fates hauing registred his last opiniō in euerlasting & permanent de­stinie, made his manifolde aspectes (as yet not stayed) to light vpon one séemely impression, and to allow of but one onely paragon: yet so sealed they his opinion, as (if it be true that the gods euer were lasciuious) I thinke the chiefest commaunder of the Heauens might vouch­safe of such dalliance, and be onely amorous in this, that knowing heauenly perfections to be resident in earthly substance, he would either borrow fire of Venus to make the creature pliable, or carrie fire into the heauens from whēce Promotheus first did steale lightning. Fauorable [Page] was the climate, that allowing vniuersally to all the creatures it compassed onely, blacknesse, vouchsafed Prisceria (Forbonius mistres) such swéet fauor, who borne of noble parents within the citie, (as of Solduuius, vize­roie of that Prouince adioyning to the citie, and Valdu­uia, daughter and heire of Theagines of Greece, the copartener of sorrowe with Caricleala, the straunge borne childe of the Aegyptian king:) not onely match al titles of honour with exquisitenesse of proportion, but also so coupled the perfections of the minde, with the proportion of the bodie, as rather nature might disdaine her industrye, not art repent her of the dowrie she had granted her: this sweet fixed Comet coasted Forbonius affectiōs, who like the careful Marriner, hauing (amidst the frostie night) sought for his Loade starre, and at breake of morning (his eies almost dazled with looking) found it out: so our noble young Gentleman, hauing past ouer many personages w^t a slight ouer looke, at last finding out his mistres alotted him by fate, yéelded wil­linglye vnto importunitie of the Destinies, and wonne altogether to bée subiect, béeing captiued with fancie, hée applyed himselfe wholye to the accomplish­ment of his desires, and the attainment of his mistresse fauour: and for that the Goddesse of loue is plyable to all benignitie, as not suffering a true seruitour to bée long vnrewarded: it so fortuned, that she prosperously furthered our noble Aegyptian in his purpose, prefer­ring him by opportunitie to the sight of his desired plea­sures: for the propinquitie of their abode was such, as that Priscerias chamber windowe, had a prospect into Forbonius garden, by which meanes, the Gentleman in his meditations might beholde his mistres, and Prisce­r [...] (beeing by the equitie of the destinies prefigurated to straunge misfortune) might haue occasion to looke, and séeing, might loue: but as this conueniencie was fa­uourable one waie, so was the frowarde disposition of [Page 22] the parents, vntoward on the other parte. for Solduuius, (whether lead thereto by appointment, or driuen to the exigent, by some former mallice borne by the progeni­tors of Forbonius) had neither a lyking to the youth, nor a longing to haue his daughter marryed: eyther lead by couetousnesse, for that he woulde not stresse his cof­fers, or by enuie, for that he contemned Forbonius: yet what is concluded secretly amidst the heauens, cannot be circumuented with mans circumspection: for For­bonius as one which depended onely on the fauour of Prisceria, though fortune had hereft him of occasion to in­ioy, yet would not he be seuered from the benefite to be­holde her whom he loued: who warmed with the same fire, in increasing his flame, kindled her owne fancie, & being as willing as the other to procure remedie to her passion, with manye chaunge of coulours, and sundrye swéete aspects, opened that to her seruant, which he wi­shed for in his mistres: who (with like sorrowes requi­ting euerie circumstance) as one willing and borne to attempt: at such time as Prisceria solitarily solaced her selfe at her windowe: in mournefull melodye (making his Lute tunable to the straine of his voice) he recorded this Sonet.

Prisceria not altogether priuie to the report, yet con­cluding all purposes to hir owne fantasie, conceyuing by his manifolde sighes, aspectes, and motions, where­vnto he applyed his actions, with a solempne sighe, as wishing him present, and a séemely bent, as requiting his curtesie, betooke hir selfe to hir pillowe, where com­paring euerye accident together, both of the zeale shée bare to Forbonius, and of the profer he proffered to her, she brake out into these spéeches.

Alasse (vnhappie Prisceria) what vntoward destinie hath befallen thée? That in thy flowring yeares and prime of beautie, thou art become a thrall to vncertaine pleasure, neyther knowing from whence the errour first sprong, nor by what Treacles it may at last bée expelled. If it bée that nature enuying my perfecti­ons hath allotted mée this purgatorie, that hauing at free becke all the benefites of Fortune, yet I should with inwarde bondes bée inchained with the holdefast of fancie. Alasse that in prefixing the tor­ment, shée hath not proffered a remedye, or in bestow­ing an vlcer, hath not vouchsafed a corrasiue. Howe straungely am I martyred, sillye maide that I am? That by one onelye looke haue conceyued such an im­pression, as neyther arte can alter with medicine, nor time eate out with continuaunce.

Woe is mee that I loue, yet fortunate am I [Page 23] that I hate not, for by the one, I am depriued of lyber­tie: by the other, I shall onerpasse the sorrow by sure­nesse. Yet are thy thoughts more fauorable to thée Pris­ceria, then the successe in thy loue will be fortunate. Thou louest Forbonius, and why? for his vertue: yet thy father hateth him vpon olde grudges, with whom when rancour preuayleth, what may be more lookt for, then contempt and denyall? But Forbonius séeketh Priscerias fauor, not Solduuius friendship: but Prisceria cannot en­ioy Forbonius, without Solduuius fauor. But Forbonius will by happie marriage conclude all mallice, but thy father hauing an enuious mind, will haue a suspitious eare. Alas why imagine I wonders in my fancy, hoping that those destenies (which inthralled my affection) wil subiect my fathers resolutions: since neither reason al­loweth me any probablitie to worke vpon, neither hath Forbonius any motion as I sée to compasse ought: well, to the satisfaction of my freend, and to the contentment of my sorrowing hart: my freend shall know my zeale, and I will continue my affection, which being begun with so wonderfull causes, must néedes finish with a miraculous effect.

With these conclusions she fell a sléepe, leauing me to returne to Forbonius, who being tormented with the same furie, and troubled with equall fancie, séeing his light to be eclipsed, I meane his Mistresse vanished, be­gan heauely to complaine himselfe in these or such lyke termes.

Alas you destinies, whose courses are ineuitable: how fortuneth it, that in bestowing casualities in mās life, you prescribe not meanes to preuent misfortunes? and onelye beginning to fester the heart, prefixe no pre­sidents, whereby the humours may be expelled. If all things are to be referred vnto an ende, what may I wel imagine of my estate? who intercepted by all occasions, must either finish my misfortunes miserably, or despe­rately. [Page] O loue, iustly maist thou be counted licentious, whereas thou neither prescribest limites to thy selfe, to inthrall: nor meanes to thy subiects to attain libertie. But why exclaime I on him, that hath blest me with a benefit? as though the fate that made Forbonius happie in louing, cannot establish his successe, as that it shall not be measured by misfortune. I glorie in the benefit of my martirdome, since a certain inward hope assureth me, that diuine beautie cannot be sequested from iust pittie, nor a tried seruice in loue, requited with a dis­dainfull hate. But foolish man that I am, how maye it be, that in séeking beautie, I labour not to attaine it? & desiring to enioy a benefit, I attempt not to make triall of my Mistresse bountie? Why, by last nights becke she vouchsafed some shew of acceptaunce: and that may as well be of reproofe as lyking. (O Forbonius,) it is a sil­ly hope that is conceiued by signes, either attempt fur­ther, or perswade thy selfe of no sauour. Her father (sil­ly wretch) enuieth thée, and thinkest thou to compasse his daughter? alas, faint hope is this when as those that should build vp, doo destroy: when such as shoulde per­swade, doo diss wade: when as he that dooth commaund most earnestly, dooth forbid. But loue hath no respect of consanguinitie, but hauing onely relation to him which he fauoureth, delighteth onely in the possession of his choyce, yet is not Forbonius, sure she loueth: well, I sée he that will be fortunate, must hazard, and that man that will be gracious in his Mistresse eye, must by out­ward attempts and vnaccustoured purposes, séeke to con­firme his happinesse.

Wherevpon (vpon sundry conclusions) he inserred thus, that the next day, by certaine rare attemptes, hée would either finish that he had so long sought for, or pe­rish in the perfourmance of his enterprise: and the day seruing to attempt that which he imagined by night, he bethought himselfe of the Cymnosophists of y^• coun­trey, [Page 24] among whom remembring one of singular experi­ence, and notable lerning, he resorted vnto him, opening first, how he was inthralled by fancie, how precluded by all occasions especially by the fathers disdaine, next, how some opportunitie serued him, lastly how the agony tor­mented him, desiring the Philosopher, whose wisedome coulde sée into all causes, to search out the fatall Exi­gent of his loue. Appollonius (for so the Gymnosophist was called) hauing calculated the Gentlemans natiui­tie, and séeing some planets retrogate: couering the as­peritie of the destenies, with the hidden secrecie of an Artist, discoursed thus.

O Forbonius, if as Socrates did his golde, thou drown thy affections, it would follow that with him thou shul­dest enioy frée libertie of thy selfe, and not suffer thy af­fects to rule thy reason. Art thou bewtiched by Circes? of a humane shape hast thou gotten a beastly forme? of a man borne to reasonable actions, wilt thou now swal­low an vnreasonable misfortune? If many cares be the decayers of the minde, if many sorrowes the consumers of the body, better were it by day to studie the lyberall Sciences, then at such time as we shoulde imploye our selues to honourable attempts, to become vnhonourably licentious. Alas Forbonius considering what a louer is, what a louer suffereth, what a louer séeketh, I finde the person idle minded, I finde his patience an insupporta­ble sorrow, I finde himselfe not himselfe, in y^• he is vn­reasonable. The daily actions of a louer are discommen­dable, the night exclamations so odious, as that they in this cōuert nature, who shadowing y^• world with dark­nes, limitting each creature his rest, yet they euen in y^• time labor in out-cries, in which they shuld take conue­nient rest. My good friend, y^• gretest wisdome is to mea­sure euery attēpt w^t his casualties, & if ought happen y^• may séeme impossible, to cast off the rayne, and suffer it to passe in that sorme it was concluded in.

[Page]Thou louest (Forbonius,) better wer it thou didst loath: for by loathing thou canst but be comp [...]ed vnnaturall, but by louing thou mayst fortune to be vnfortunate. If all thinges be ordered by the higher powers, it is vayne you must conclude to infringe what is conclu­ded on, if the destenies haue appoynted, that Forbonius shall not be happie in inioying Prisceria, Forbonius is not reasonable in suing for Prisceria. Unhappie Paris in Helen, though fortunate in inioying her beautie: but when loue begins with a fading benefit, it endeth with an euerlasting sorrow. The conclusion of a wise man must be, to yéelde to the necessitie of Fate, and to continue contented with that which cannot be altered by succession. Tell me by the immortall Gods, my good friend I beséech thée, what happines conceiuest thou pos­sible to follow, either in enioying thy Lady, or finishing thy loue? Alas, the greatest swéete is a continuall sow­er, and after many vnfortunate repulses, a sodain mis­fortune makes an ende of many a yeares courting. I speake all this to this ende (my Forbonius,) because I would preuent that by counsell in thée, which other­wise (if thou follow thine owne lure) will be a confu­sion to thy selfe. Thou comest to me for counsell to com­passe loue, and I would confirme thée, that thou should­est auoyd the occasions of following loue. Thou woul­dest by my meanes strayne arte to subdue nature, yet I labour both to direct by arte, and to suppresse by na­ture. Truly (my good friend) looking but to the hidden secretes of nature, I finde thée subiect to manye misfor­tunes, and no way to be remedied but by one only ver­tue. Thou shalt (after long toyles) compasse that thou hopest for, yet when thy greatest plesures begin to take the originall: euen then shall they finde their exigent. Since therfore the reuolutions of the heuens conclude, that by onely continent forbearaunce, thou shalt be dis­burdened of many misfortunes, I beséech thée lette this [Page 25] transitorie pleasure be accompted off as it is, and finish vp thy loue with my counsell: so shalt thou be fortunate in preuenting destenie, and continue in happines, wher too much loue may make thee vnluckie.

Forbonius lead by the inconstant opinion of his young yeares, not waying the graue and fatherly councell of Appollonius, aunswered him thus.

O Father, when the wound is giuen, it is ill coun­sayling how to auoyd the stripe, and when the heart is captiuated, there can be but small recouery by counsell: how wer it possible for me to restrain that in my selfe, which the Gods could not limit in their Deities? Ea­sie it is for the whole Phisition to counsell the sick pa­tient, but when y^• extremitie wringeth excessiuely, none bideth the martirdome but the afflicted. O Appolloni­us my minde measureth not the iniquitie of fate, ney­ther doo I séeke limits for that, which by no direction can be exterminated from out my heart. So that good father rather respect my present sute, then my future discom­moditie, and by your counsell make ende to my sor­rowes: whereby it will thus come to passe, that enioy­ing the pleasure I long wish for, I may more boldlye beare the assault of froward fortune when it commeth. If it be onely death, that my enemie Fate threteneth me with, let me enioye this benefit, as for Fortune, I will be friende to her enemie, the which is the graue, and acquaynting my soule but with the onely Idea of my Mistresse, thinke my selfe as happie, as they that haue walkt the Elisian fieldes, a long space to their con­tent.

Appollonius willing to doo him good, yet sorrie hée could not preuaile with his counsaile, at length began thus.

Since my Forbonius thou wilt be ruled by no coun­sayle, thou must be pertaker of thine owne sorrowe. As for thy request, I will so satisfie thée, as not onely thou [Page] shalt at thy pleasure conceiue thy Mistresse minde, but also open vnto her the secrettes of thy heart, by which meanes thou shalt héerein haue accomplishment of thy wish, though in so dooing thou shewe but lyttle wise­dome. Wherevpon, resorting to his studdie, he brought foorth a mirrour of notable operation, a practicke in prospectiue, which deliuering to Forbonius, he commen­ded it thus.

O my friend, I deliuer thée that héere to féede thy hu­mour, which was composed to comprehend Arte. In this myrrour thou maist after thou hast written thy minde: taking the Sunne beame, send the reflection to thy mi­stresse eye, wherby she may as legeably read thy letters, as if they were in her handes, and by thy instructions made priuie to the secrets of thy glasse, retourne thine aunswere in that very forme in which thou sendest. For the rest, I leaue it to your discretions, and good for­tune, wishing all things to fall out as prosperouslye in your loue, as you would, and as I wish.

Our noble youth (In amours) hauing furnished himselfe of that he sought for, repayred vnto his studie, where deuising in what tearmes he might sollicite his Mistres, at last he cyphered out his sorrowes in this se­quell.

This cyphered out in faire charecters, and disposed in such termes as his fancie then prefixed him, he tooke his way into his garden, waiting some necessarye opportu­nitie, to put his purposed attempts in practise, and to bewray his woes to Prisceria: who woūded with the re­membraunce of Forbonius perfections, and séeing no waye but his presence a meane to expell sorrowe, be­tooke her selfe to her accustomed prospecte, and with longing lookes she leuelled at his loue, which was alre­die stroken with her beautie.

The Gentleman fitted by these conuenient occasi­ons beganne his Philosophicall demonstration, and taking his aspecte as necessarilye as hée might, hée presented Prisceria with his pensiue submission: who confirmed by so conuenient opportunitie, betaking her selfe with all spéede possible to her studie, and by a becke charging him with no lesse dispatch to giue at­tendaunce: she gaue annswere to his amorous intrea­ties with this gracious affabilitie.

These conclusions being ministered with the same aspectes they were profered, the two poore couple had no other meanes to noate the effecte of their priuate ioyes, but onely by silent smiles, gracious regardes, and trickelyng teares, and such lyke amorous actions, each one wishing the other, either happie in possessing their delyght, or fortunate, if by death they were reléeued of their sorrowe: and being intercepted by the closure of the euening, they betooke themselues both of them to their restlesse pillowes, concluding vpon many pur­poses, how to finish their languishing and tormenting martirdome.

[Page 27] Forbonius as one born to attempt, concluded with him­selfe, considering how fauourably all occasions fawned vpon him) to attempt y^• stealing awaie of Prisceria: who poore soule in carefull dreames imagining of her dayes fancies, was forestaled of all fauour by the vnhappie approch of her father, who furnished with all worldlye policies to preuent what he mislyked, and compasse that he suspected: perceiuing by his daughters solome as­pects, some secret sorrow y^• troubled her, hauing remem­bred that axiome of the Philosophers, that dreames are the prefigurations of dayes sorrowe, watched his time so néerely, that euen at that verie instant he ente­red the chamber of his daughter, when drowned in her swéet delightfull dreames, she begā at his entrie to cry [...] thus. O fortunate Forbonius! which her father mar­king verie precisely, and concluding wherevpon the sigh tooke his holde fast, awaking his daughter on a sodaine, verie cunningly compassed her thus.

O my Prisceria, let it not seeme straunge vnto thee, to beholde thine aged Fathers vnaccustomable accesse, since he is now perplexed with vnacquainted feares. A­lasse my daughter, thy father séeing thée beautifull, is not carelesse of thy comfort, neither can he that labou­red to bring thée to lyght, suffer shée to passe thy dayes in loathsome mislyke. At this instaunt when I entered thy chamber, in thy dreame (as me séemed) thy soule be­tokening (as it shuld séeme) some daies sorow or plesure, exclaimed thus: O fortunate Forbonius, thou knowest how hatefull the person thou diddest name is to thy fa­ther, who if he be fortunate in thy dowrie, I loue him: I shal estéeme him vnfortunate in the fauour thou wilt assure him: who béeing a collop of my [...]lesh, wilt not al­lowe of that, which is loathsome to thy father: O Pris­ceria Solduuius séeth, and thy secrete dreames bewraie that the fortunacie of Forbonius, is eyther vnfortunate for thy selfe, or not allowable by thy Fa [...]hers opinion. [Page] Thy chaunge of constitution, thy hidden sorrowe, my swéet child made me suspitions, but now the verie true messenger of thy minde confirming me, I must without circumstance conclude, that Prisceria loueth her fathers enimie, that Prisceria desireth Forbonius fauour, and de­testeth her fathers choice, which if it be so; O my daugh­ter, I feare me thy loue will not be so fauourable, as my disdaine bitter, wherefore if thou art intangled, since thou knowest my opinion, forbeare, or if no wisedome will conclude thée within limites, my displeasure shall exclude thée from out all benefit of my fauour. Choose now Prisceria, whether with calme perswasions thou wilt yéeld to my bent, or by vnaccustomed displeasure bée pertaker of thy Fathers wrath.

Upon these conclusions, Prisceria all abashed, shaking of the drowsinesse of her dreaming, made aunswere to Solduuius in these tearmes.

These straunge suppositions, my good Father, argue the slender opinion of your self, who by the vncertainest signs y^• may be, confirme your opinion as you please. In my dreames you said I called Forbonius fortunate, and may it not bée, that as my tongue vttered y^• it thought not, your minde immagineth that which is not? coun­ting euerye lyght shadowe a substaunce, and euery lit­tle similitude of truth, an vndoubted demonstration. Did I call thine enimie fortunate? Truely Father I feare me I might iustly conclude it, for he poore Gentle­man little dreameth on displeasures, when at such time as rest should occupie your sences, you most trauaile in your rancour: by certaine tokens as you saie, you con­clude, that I am affectionate, and by this silly conclu­sion of a dreame, you inferre an vndoubted trueth, that I am enamoured with Forbonius, and if perhaps the necessitie of the fates be such, Prisceria shall finde her selfe happie in louing Forbonius, by whose meanes [Page 28] her Father may cease rancour, and take rest, and his daughter satisfied with that she séeketh for, be no farther troubled with dreaming fantasies.

Solduuius perceyuing by these spéeches the certain­tie of his daughters affection, as one altogether enra­ged, calling vp his wise, and raising his seruaunts, left the [...]illye maide all amased at his sodaine departure, whereas the olde man exclaiming vppon the disobedi­ence of his daughter, and thundering out many reuen­ges against poore Prisceria, caused his horses to be sadde­led, and perforce (contrarie to her expectation) made her bée conuayed to Farnusium, a mannor house of his owne, a place for the solytarinesse more fit for a Ty­mon, then conuenient for a beautifull Ladie, the one­ly companie there being shepheards, who vpon the Vast mountaines recorded the praise of the Countrie fauou­rer Pan, and the rurall amitie betwéene them, and their Countrie lasses. Thus from stately Court, from the re­gards of her swéet friend, from the plesures that follow the Citie, her companions were rurall maidens, her re­tinue forlicke shepheardes: whose slight rapacitie not yéelding anie comfort to allaie the Gentlewomans sor­rowings, made her (to her more hart griefe) continue her pensiuenesse, and sup vp her conceiued sorrow in silence. But to repeat the moane on the other side that amorous Forbonius made, when hy certain report he had notice of his mistres departure, were wonderfull, who béeing in himselfe altogether confounded, not knowing where to finde her out which was the onely mistres of his fan­tasie, Lord with how many sighes breathed he forth his sorrowe, and compassed on euerie side with dispairing ioyes, in the verie same garden where tosore hee repea­ted his pleasures, hée in these waylefull tearmes re­counted his miseries.

Alas vnfortunate Aegyptian, whose faithful affectiōs ar [...] so immutable, as thy naturall all colour is vnstainable. [Page] How iniurious are the destinies? that graunting thée life, they dayly hasten thy destruction, that vouchsafing thée plesure, they sus [...]er it not to be permanent: that ad­mitting thée the benefit of beauties good grace, they de­priue thée of the possession and blessing of that thou de­sirest. Alasse what shall befall mée? when the glorie of my eyes are dimmed? when the pleasures of my heart are determined? whē she whom I loue néerest, is farther off frō my presēce? whē y^• iniurious repulses of y^• father, makes euery attempt of Forbonius vnfortunate. Wo is me, what way may I imagin to make an end of my mi­serie? Should I with dispairing rashnesse finish vp the Catastrophe of my troubles? Should I béeing bereft of her by whom I liue, dispossesse my selfe of that she most doth like? Should I in making my selfe onelye fortu­nate by y^• alaie of my sorrows, leaue Prisceria to her dai­ly mournings, both to lament my deceasure, & her frow­ [...]rd destinie? no Forbonius, it is but vaine quiet that is to her discontentment, who béeing equally inthralled w^t thy selfe, will as willingly be pertaker of thy torment as thy self. But why waile I thus in feminine sorow, when my happinesse is to be accomplished by manly at­tempt? Solduuius rigour hath caused Priscerias absence, yet cannot the fathers displeasure determine the daugh­ters loue, she liueth to thy wish Forbonius, she loueth to thy weale Forbonius, she wilbe cōstant til death Forbo­nius, why shouldest thou then leaue her vnsought for, Forbonius? Attempt vain man, to seke out thine assured, let not the distance of place disanull thy good hap? Sol­duuius banishment is concluded within the limites of Aegypt, and since it is so, either Forbonius will attaine her he desireth, or reuenge the vniust rigour of an iniu­rious Father.

Upon this resolution, as a man quite dispossessed of himselfe, he hasted to Apollonius, recounting vnto him how all things haw fortuned, beséeching him (not [Page 29] without foison of t [...]ares) to séeke but by art where Pris­ceria was conuersant, and to direct him by counsell, who altogether was confounded with dispaire. Apollonius by exteriour [...]gnes conceiuing the interiour heartes­griefe, and séeing the poore young Gentleman martyred so miraculously, comparing times and reuolutions, at­tained to the knowledge of her aboad, and concluding in himselfe to comfort him, which almost dispaired, hee spake thus to Forbonius.

My good friend, whence groweth it, that neyther the nobilitie of thy auncestors? nor thy forepassed attempts? neither the benefit of thy mistres fauour can confirme thée, but that thou wilt be carefull for that which thou hast alreadie almost compassed. Pluck vp your heart my swéete Forbonius, for thy Prisceria is not farre from [...]hée. Farnusium a mannor house of her Fathers, seated East out of this Citie, whereas she is so circumspectly lookt into, that by anie meanes, vnlesse by secret and conueni­ent pollicie, thou canst come to the accomplishment of thy desire. Thou must therefore attyred altogether like a shepheard, depart this citie, and by some conueni­ent meanes procure the kéeping of some one Farmers shéepe, which is resident among those mountaines, by whose meanes thou shalt fall in acquaintance with the garden of thy mistres, called Sotto, and hauing conueni­ent occasion to satisfie thy affection, possesse thy selfe of y^• thou hast long desired.

Forbonius concluding his replie with hartie thanks, sodainly departed, & remembring himselfe of one Cor­bo, a tenaunt of his, which had his mantion house verie conueniently, seated hard by the mannor house of Soldu­nius, he hastely shaped his iourney vnto him, & making him priue to y^• he desired, & swearing him to be constant & continue secret, he betooke himselfe to y^• kéeping of his tenants shéepe, & not forgetting to driue his flocke néere vnto the lawnd wheras Solduuius seruants grased their [Page] shéepe, he so demean [...]ed himselfe, that not onely he attay­ned the fauor of Sotto which he sought for, but also for his curteous affabilitie was accoūted of amōg y^• whol [...] troup of heards men for y^• best singer, & y^• tunablest Mu­sition. His Aeglogs were so delectable, & the deliuery of them so delicate. Whervpon by good fortune it so fel out, y^• Forbonius vnder the coulourable name of Arualio, was desired by Sotto, to resort vnto y^• mānor house, who informed him of all y^• hapned, telling him of the careful demeanour of his sorowing young mistres, who pleased with nothing but with solitarie musicke, pined her selfe awaie w^t melancholy, & not without cause, (said he,) for my old master hath forbiddē me y^• admitting of any one to her presence, not suffering her to passe the limits of my warie eie: nor allowing her to walke w^tout y^• castel walles for her recreation. For my sake therfore chaunt her some melodie, & resort with me to a conuenieet ar­bour within our garden, whereas shée walking for her recreation, may perhaps take some delight in thy sorow­full mournings, in y^• they most fit her fantasie. Forboni­us as willing to wend, as he desirous to perswade, ac­companied Sotto to Farnusium, wher hauing a place ap­pointed him to apply his Aeglogs, and the Goddesse be­fore him whom he should deuine vpon, hee vnder these secrets described his passions.

THis delectable Aeglogue finished by the amorous Forbonius gaue occasions to Prisceria to satisfie the thoughts that then troubled her fantasie. For con­founded in her selfe, not knowing what to conclude of [Page 33] that she shepheard Arualio had reported, yet welnigh perswades that the reporter was he she liked off, with a séemely grace, not minding to incurre the lightest sus­pition, turning toward Forbonius, whose hand was on his half-pe [...]ie, shée say thus.

Gentle shepheard, that Nimph thou louest shuld al­ter from womanhood, that considering thy true zeale, & exquisite proportions, would not requite thy loyaltie, with the benefit of her loue. Truly Madame (aunswe­red the imagined Arualio, and I thinke my selfe gra­cious in this, that for her whom I loue I am enioyned this torment, wherevpon t [...]rning himselfe a side, and drying vp the teares which should bewray his fancie, he was at last knowen by Priscoria, who altogether ama­zed at the presence of Forbonius, forgerting weln [...]e the infortunacie she was intangled in, cast her armes about his necke, yet colouring with a séemly disdain to sha­dow her opinion, and blindfold subtill [...]otto, shée sayde thus. Truly shepheard, if I may preuaile with thy mi­stres, thou shalt not be vnrewarded for this curtesie: & Madame (said Forbonius) might I counsell your Ladi­ship, you should not sorrow for that maye be compassed at your pleasure.

This said, Sotto taking Arualio by the hand, tooke his leaue of his young Mistresse thus: My young La­die, I as studious of your pleasure as maye [...] haue brought you this young shepheard to laugh at, & if his musick like you, you shall haue euery day at the least a lay or two. And héerin shalt thou doo me no small plea­sure said Prisceria? & so with a séemly regard shaping a loth departure, y^• two shepherds resorted to their flocks, Arualio altogether amazed at his mistres beautie, and Sotto very iocond he had fitted his young Ladies fancy so well: whervpon y^• old shepheard, turning to our so­litarie & distressed Arualio, said thus, What maks thee thus sollom my youthly compéere? cease to gréeue thy [Page] selfe about those thinges that may be compassed, if thou loue, time shal eate out that which Treacle cannot, and thou shalt either be fortunate in possessing hir thou de­sirest, or in ouerpassing thy passions with good gouern­ment, leaue loue to those that like her. Arualio not to séeke of curteous humanitie, gaue him this aunswere. O Sotto, it is not the loue that greeueth me, but the meanes to compasse loue: I labour not to attain loue, but to possesse the profits of my long seruice in loue: as for time, it may worke wonders in them that are re­pulsed: but when Cupid is gracious, and occasions vn­fortunate, thinke you y^• this is not a bitter sowre? Yea, but answered Sotto, & if it be so Arualio plucke vp thy sprights, and doubt thou not, but if thou prooue dily­gent in pleasing my young mistresse, I meane not to be idle, if I may know whom thou likest of. As for that doubt not, said our disguised Forbonius, for since I know by thy onely meanes my loue is to be compassed, I wil not stick in so slight a pleasure to profit, when as by thy meanes I may onely succour my selfe. In such lyke termes passing ouer their werisome walke: At last they betooke themselues each of them to the folding of their sheep, for it was welnie night, and the Sunne was stée­ped in the Ocean: whervpon Arualio the shepheard, be­comming now Forbonius indéede, hasted him home vn­to his Tenaunts house, making him both priuie of his happie [...]ortune, and concluding with himselfe howe to performe that he wished for, and for that long trauayle requireth some quiet, he betooke himselfe to rest: where recompencing al his nights wakings, with a quiet sleep: At dawne of day he returned in his counterfeit habite vnto the field, and vnfolding his flocke, he draue them into those pastures, that wer adioyning to Sottos walk: who no sooner spied Arualio, but saluting him very cur­teously, he earnestly intreated him, (setting all excuses [Page 34] apart) to go to Farnusium, and in the best sort that hée might to solace the vnfortunate Prisceria▪ who onely wayting that occasion, commending his flocke to the ouer-flight of the old man, & accompanied with Saracca the daughter of olde Sotto, he was presented to his de­sired, within the castle, who by the absence of Sotto, fin­ding all occasions to serue her turne, hauing sent sillye Sarraca about some sléeuelesse arrant, she taking the oc­casion profered, said thus to Forbonius: Blest be that sweete conceipt of thine (O my friend) which to the vn­fortunate rigour of my father, hath adapted so conue­nient an end. Now maist thou with as great pleasures enioye thy desired, as with déepe perplexities thou hast sorrowed in her absence. Now neither distaunce can se­uer vs from imbracing, nor the watchfull eye of my fe­ther, intercept thée of thy wish. Sée héere thy Prisceria, who though the Fates worke neuer so contrarie, will liue to Forbonius, and onely loue Forbonius.

This said, with many kisses com [...]orting him which was almost ouercome with pleasaunt imaginations, she was returned this aunswere by her most assured fauourer.

O Prisceria, if ouerpressed with manye suspitious thoughts, if made pertaker of the infernall tortures in Phlegeton, if subiect to the punishment of the Daugh­ters of Danaus, or affixed to the torture [...] marte­reth Titius, I should be confirmed by this onely benefit in opinion, and made constant in all misfortunes, yea, euen to ouercome the insupportable trauailes of the si­sters, and be enabled with constancie to subdue all tor­ments what so euer, by remembraunce onely of one gratious regard. It is neither thy fathers rancor swéet Prisceria, nor distance of place, nor any one occasiō what soeuer, can either sequester me of my hope, nor thee of the possession of thy wished: cast off therefore all doubt [Page] of after dole, & assure your self, that as this plesure hath his originall this present instant, so by my meanes ere long it shalbe continu [...]d for euerlasting mamory. Pas­sing the time in such like pleasures, and ministering a remedie vnto each others torments, I cannot tell, whe­ther by the iniquitie of destenie, or otherwise: Solduui­us learning out Forbonius departure, and suspitious of his forward attempts, at that very instant arriued at Farnusium, when the two amorous couple, little doub­ting his sodaine approch, were coasted with this sower, in midst of all their sweete, that the enemie of their ple­sures euen then entred the Castle, when as it séemed the fates had prefixed them that conueniencie & oppor­tunitie to allaye their long sorrowing. The brute of whose aduent brought to the eares of Prisceria, Lorde how she was confounded in her self, how dismaid was Forbonius at that instant, how at y^• very time were they both astonied, when most circumspection should be had: so that scarce they had [...]en dried vp their teares, when as Solduuius entring the chamber, quicklye discouered the whole counterfaite (for iealous eyes inflamed with rancour pretermit nothing) wherevpon the olde man at first, nothing at all deluded by the straunge habite, spying out their procéedings, laying violent hands on Forbonius caused him forcibly to be conueyed to the stronge [...]ower in the Castle, and tourning himselfe to Prisceria, he began thus.

O thou wicked and vngracious mayd, degenerating from the Nobilitie of thy auncestours, and led by vn­seemly affections, not directed by the likings of thy ten­der parents, in what tearmes shuld I accuse thee? or be­wray my sorrowes? Woe is me, that am inforced to be an eie witnesse of mine owne sorow, & to behold y^• with mine eyes, that I hate in my heart: Is this the reward of bréeding children? Is this the benefite that is reapt by issue? Are these the pleasures that befall Parentes? [Page 35] O Solduuius, happie hadst thou bene, if either Prisceria had béene vnborne, or thou vnmarried, by the one thou shouldest haue escaped this present miserie, by the other preuented the vntoward sorrow that now confoundeth thée. Is thy loue to be fixed there where I hate? or shul­dest thou be amorous of him who is odious to thy Fa­ther? O vile wretch borne among the Hirean Tygres, which respecting not thy Fathers felicitie, ouerburthe­nest his olde yeares with vnlooked for calamitie: but if euer iust Gods pittied a lawfull complaint, I doubt not but they that minister iustice to all men, wil wreak the iniuries thou hast done to me.

Thus sayd, he sate down altogether confounded with melancholie. When as Prisceria finding occasion to speake for her selfe, began thus.

Who seeketh O father, to preuent the destinies, labo­reth in vaine, and who indeauoureth to alter nature, as he striueth against the streame, so must he perish in his owne ouerwéening: the Gods haue concluded our loue, and will you being a creature séeke to infringe it? A­lasse my father, why should my pleasure be your discom­fort? or that by which I liue, proue that which most you hate? Doe not you héerein breake nature? who laie vi­olent hands on your owne flesh, and séeke to alter that by rigor, that was ordained by diuine instinct? O lette your rancor ouerslip (my good father) and [...] hum­ble sute preuailed with an honourable minde, cease to hate him whom I loue: and couple vs both together, whom the Gods hauing ioyned in an assured league of friendship, it cannot be but iniustice to alter their pro­ceedings.

Soldu [...]tius not able to digest the furie of his passion, nor willing to weigh of the submissiue request of his daughter, interrupted her thus: And is it not sufficient or thee (vaine wench as thou art) to passe the limites of nature? but to continue thy error too? Thinkest thou to [Page] compasse me with teares, who without sighes cannot call to memorie thy escape? no Prisceria, both thou shalt sée, and that varlet shall knowe, that my displeasure wil not be finished but w^t bloud, nor my anger satisfied, till I haue confounded him, who hath discomforted me. Whervpon flinging ont of the chamber in a great rage, and fastening both boltes and lockes he with his frame resorted to the imprisonned poore shepheard, his capi­tall enimie Forbonius, whom after he had taunted with these vniust tearmes, he procéeded further to this vniust reuenge: Thou cursed and abhominable caitife, is it not sufficient by the iniuries of thy Father Clunamos, to moue my patience, but that thou in person must vio­late my daughter? Thinkest thou that the Gods detest not these iniuryes? when as with wicked attemptes thou be witchest the daughter, and massacrest the Fa­ther? naie nether in iustice will they pretermit the of­fence, nor will nature suffer me to beare with thine errour: prepare thy selfe therefore to make him recom­pēce with thy bloud, whom thou hast troubled with thy attempt.

Forbonius confounded with sorrowe, and amazed at this austere iudgement, yet remembring the nobilitie that was alwayes accounted in him, aunswered him thus.

Alth [...]gh enraged rancour hath made thée passe the limits o [...] honour. (O Solduuius) yet passe not so farre in thy resolutions, as to staine the dignitie of thy person, with the martyrdome of a guitlesse Gentleman. If I did hate thy daughter, that lyttle enuye that grewe by my Fathers displeasure, might by reason grow to deepe and rooted mallice, but when I loue Prisceria, why shoulde I bée contempned of Solduuius? It should seeme that loue was not accompted lothsome among the gods, when as prefixing a punishment to all escapes, they prescribe an honour to this: chiefly concluding it to be [Page 36] a vertue: wherevppon thou must conclude, that eyther thou contemnest the decrees of the Gods, or measurest all thinges by thine owne mallice. Thou threatnest me with death (vaine man) and I weigh not the dissolu­tion of my bodie: for this I assure thée, as long as I may liue, I will honour Prisceria, and béeing dead, my ghost shall persecute thée with reuenge, and prosecute my af­fections towarde my best beloued. So Prisceria lyue, Forbonius careth not to dye, the onely memorie of whome shall make mée constaunt in misfortunes, and willing to withstande the brunt of thy crueltie: where­vpon my conclusiō is, that if Solduuius for faithful assu­rance wil become a friendlye allower of Forbonius, he which by reason of the mallice of his Father had once cause to hate him, will now honour him, and that strife which separated two so noble families, shal now be fini­shed in our happy marryage: if this like not, procéede as thou pleasest. In granting mée fauour, thou shalt finde honour, in bereauing mée of lyfe, thou shalt finish all my misfortunes.

The discourse of Forbonius thus ended, Solduuius be­gan thus, after y^• he had somewhat digested his cholar: Although Forbonius the iniuryes thou hast offered me, together with former displeasures, be sufficient to conti­nue my resolution, yet weyghing with my selfe that it is vaine to alter that which is prefixed by destinye, wonne by reason which directeth all men, and by the tender loue I beare my Daughter, which shoulde preuayle with a Father: I yéelde thée thy loue to in­ioye in chast wedlocke, and wheres thou lookedst I shoulde bée thy tormentour, loe I am nowe conten­ted to be thy vnlooked for Father. Wherevppon ta­king Forbonius by the hande, and conueying him to Priscerias chamber, hée confirmed the Gentleman in his former purpose, and his daughter of his assured sauour, [Page] vsing these kind of his intention: My daughter, that father that euen now hainously mis­likt of thy louer, now gloryeth in thy lyking, & he which whilome hated Forbonius, now vouchsafeth him his son in lawe: wherevpon comfort your selues with mutu­all solace, & to morrow we will to the Citie to finish vp y^• ceremonies. The two louers compassed with incredi­ble pleasures, & not able to suppresse the affections that possessed thē, but by breaking out into spéech: they both humbled thēselues to aged Solduuius, returning him by y^• mouth of Forbonius these thanks. O noble gentleman, it may not be expressed by tongue, what I imagine in heart, who by your meanes, of the most vnfortunatest man that liueth, am become the only happie man of the world: notwithstanding this in lew of all fauour I wil returne you, that both by that meanes all priuate quar­rells shall cease betwéene our two families, and you re­gistred in our Aegyptian Records, for the onely peace­maker of Memphis. In these I swéete spea [...]hes ouer pas­sing the daie & night, the next morrow the whole traine po [...]ed to Memphis, whereas by the high Priest of the Sun they were solempnly espowsed, and after many so­rowes were recompensed with nuptiall pleasure. Now Ladies and Gentlewomen, I must leaue this to your consideration, whether the louers for their constancie are more to be commended, or the olde man for his pati­ence more to be wondered at: I leaue you to fit that con­clusion, till you haue read what is written, promising you that if my rude discourse haue wrought you anye pleasure, I will both labor, heer after to serue all occasi­ons, and so fixo my studies as they shall not farre differ from your fantasies: and thus crauing you to winde at an errour, and commend as the cause requireth, I take my leaue: willing to be made priuie if I haue anye wayes trauayled to your contentment.