AT such time as Octauius possessed the mouarchy of the whole world, and Rome the maiestie of all wealth and wisedome: there dwelt at Rauenna (a famous Citie in Italie) a yong Gentleman, who had as great reach in wit as riches, and as many perfections, as possessions, beautifull hee was, and this was natures benefit: rich he was, and that For­tunes bequest, in breefe: Nature and Fortune (striuing to ex­ceede each other) strained so farre, as Fortune could impart no more wealth, nor Nature no more woorth. But as the Beast Varius hath a ritch skin, but a ranke flesh, and the birde Stru­chio a big body, but weake wings, so Philamis hauing a rype wit had a running head, placing his felicitie in trauaile, not in temperance, in seeking forraine countries, not hearing fruit­full counsailes, for which cause, gathering together much wealth, and neglecting his welfare, forsaking his friends to trust to forrainers, after he had trauailed many countries, hee entered into Austria: This prouince (among all other) is plea­sant and plentifull, inritched with fruitfull mould, and replen [...] ­shed with fortunate men, hauing euerye part thereof deuided after this proportion: what so is scituate betwirt the riuer of Laite, and the beautiful floud of Anasus was subiect to Hun­garia, and what so is contained betwixt Anasus, and the riuer Enno was woont to bee vnder the iurisdiction of [...]: Enno is a great riuer, springing from the mountaines of Ita­lie, which passing by the populous Citie of Pasan, entreth into Danubius: Laite is a little riuer which also with [...]der floa­tings yeeldes his waterie homage to the mightie [...]: This countrey is bounded to the Northward by Bohe [...], [Page] and Morauia, to the westward by Bauaria, to the southward, by the mountai [...]es of Sticia, and to the Estward, by Hunga­ri [...], and notwithstanding the spatious length, and long spati­ousnesse of the countrie, yet Danubius (seeming as though he were in a mored with the same) with resistles mightinesse run­neth thorow the midst of the soyle in this prouince, and that pompious cittie of Passan, did Philamis make his staye, inui­ted therevnto by the salubritie of the aire, and the sumpt [...]ous­nesse of the buildings, finding there both courtlye companions to conu [...]rse withall, and comlie ladies to disport with all, it was woonderfull to see, how insteed of Philosophie, he subdued fan­cie, reposing his worldly felicitie in prodigalitie and fashions: but as the hungrie sparrow flieth to the full barne, the diligent Bee, to the delightfull flower, as the raging Woolfe seeks out the ritchest fould, and the carefull Ante the greatest haruest, so Philamis hauing much mony, had many attendants, who with Aristippus could flatt [...]r for profit, with Batillus dissemble for substance: yea many there were that carryed vermine in theyr toongues to open secrecie, many that bare [...] in their harts to abuse his [...], but the young Raue [...]noes ha­uing his hand on his halfepenny, had day lookes, for quaint la­dyes, cunning delayes, for craftie deceiuers, he had a finger to couer his scar with Alexander: a faire woord, to coulont his suspect with Antimachus, yeelding such lips, such [...], [...] that as Acteon was de [...]oured by his owne Dogges whom he nourished, so credulous manners are ouet throwne by those [...] whome they haue cherrished, and surely not without occasion was he prouident h [...]erein: for flatterers are like rich tombes, on which the only name of amity is written: or worse then rauenous Crowes, who (as Antisenes was wont to say) do [...] feed on dead bodyes, wh [...]re flatterers corrupt the liuing [...]: they are Summer Birdes, who endure no storme, [...] about young Princes in their glorye, flying from them in their disgrace, in breefe, like the Partridge they steale others egges, and with the Birde [...] hatch other Chickins, so that the wordes of Virgil may bee applyed to theyr [...]:

But leauing this, retur [...]e we to Philamis, who liuing in Pas­san and louing his pleasure, was commended of the most for his pleasant discourse: of the wisest for his ripe wit and know­ledge: among the rest, Anthenor (a man [...]uergrowne with yeares, but graue in discourse) knowing that as the horne of Cerastes purgeth venom, the hearbe Rew preuaileth against the poison of serpents, as Abrotamum [...] out thor [...]es, & Mirtus healeth deadly maladies, so counsalles molifie youth­lie courage, giumg reason the raine, when will hath the spurre: called young Philamis a part, where with fatherly regard and friendly reasons, he thus scholed him. Gentleman, since a man may better perswade by counsaile, then disswade by correctiō, since discipline reformeth manners, and aduice suppress [...]th youthlie motions, I will though a stranger rather be presump­tuous to draw thee [...]rom mischiefs, then in forbearing to show thy maimes, I should be an agent in thy miserie. Oh Philamis thy behauiour showeth thy bringing vp, which if it were l [...]sse courtly & more constant, the flatterer should be further of, the friend neerer at hand: thou hast learnd to show outward cour­tesie, but art lame in true courtesie, which rather thanketh the better sort for a iust reproofe, then commendeth the worser sort for an vnde serued praise: is not he a poore Uintner (and not so poore as fo [...]d) that setteth out a ritch Iuie bush where there is no wine? Is not he a vaine man, who praiseth the person wh [...]re there is no vertue [...] Is not hee most ignorant, that [...] to knowe all things, yet is ignorant of himselfe? If thou confesse the Uintner fonde my Philamis, howe more fond art thou, who hast beautified the outwarde parts with silkes, and blemished the inward with great sinnes, shutting thy [...] body in strange coulors, but shunning to inritch thy h [...]auenlye minde and soule with good counsailes, if thou blame [...] that commendeth the person, not the vertue: howe blam [...] [...] is Philamis: who choosest the flatterer for thy [...], the taunter for thy Table guest: the incontinent for thy [...], [Page] the inconstant for thy counsauers. If his ignorance be great who presumeth the notice of all things, but knoweth not him­selfe, oh how haplesse is Philamis? whose presumption is his imperfection, and who is only miserable in this, that he know­eth not his miserie: If thou p [...]ce thy felicitie in goods, euen the felicitie thou seek [...]st is gale, which is fel my Philamis, if in pompe, oh vaine pompe, where the opinion glorieth ouer his trueth, prodigalitie ouer frugalitie, the shadow ouer his shape, and the imperfections of the flesh, ouer the perfection of the soule: what art thou (young man) wherein thou art not poore? what hast thou (young man) wherein thou maist not be ritch? thou art fashioned like thy maker, but mortall, thou art weal­thy, but maist want, thou art strong, but maist be weake, thou art faire, but shalt haue furrowes, and as the bud perisheth in the flower, so shalt thou finish in thy fulnesse: what is then thy ritches? that of the mind Philamis, which is plentifull, when the body is poore, thou hast a reason to discerne error, a will to followe vertue, a soule to contemplate heauen, a thought to imagine happinesse. But why wade I so farre, where the black Oxe hath not troden on the foote? Why wrest I to teach expe­rience, where the thoughts are peremptorie? Thou art here in Passan a straunger, a Lambe among Woolues, a weakling among wicked ones, so that eyther thou must learne Pithago­rus silence, or Socrates fiftie yeares subtiltie, yet was Pitha­goras taunted houlding his peace, and Socrates poisoned for all his science. Heare are they that makes their guts their Genius, theyr gorge, their God: their perfumes, their perfec­tion: their dalliance, their deuotion: either liuing as though there were no God, or loathing (as if it were not lawfull to know God, and among these liueth Philamis: and with these [...] Philamis liue without follie? To speake liberallie Gen­tleman, but how without lament may I speake it? our Catoes nowe a dayes wante moderation, our Ciceroes conscience: Fooles are held ritch, because riche: poore, ignorant because poore, a worldly reason, a wretched reason, heere our quadrati homines, are become rotundi, wearing so much of the world on their heads, that they forget God in their hearts: there are [Page] Ladies, that haue maskes to couer maimes, who are fayre by Esculapius sirrups, and haue been foule by Bacchus surf [...]its: heere are Epicures which counterfeit fast, when they most feast, carrying the User [...]rs decipe in their possessions, and the Apothecaries recipe in their pursses: heere glosing is glorye, and Thraso held for Thesene, in breefe, in this countrie Irix an ordinarie beast liueth many yeares without sicknesse, and few men are there amongst vs, that passe one yeare without their feauour through beastlines, among these ca [...]st thou liue without loosnes? I but thou wilte saye, that as the cle [...]rest Christall hath his crack, the fairest day his clowde, the tallest Cedar his worme, the greenest Cicuta his poysen, so C [...]ttyes cannot be without sinnes, nor monarchies without mischiefes, many spots in the Leopard maketh the white more purer, so many defaults in anie estate make the vertues more famous. Oh that vertue might want his shadowe, in seeing all like hir selfe, none loser then he should bee: I but Alexander had a finger to couer his scar, I but had Alexander no sc [...]rre what need he so vse his finger? I but Cicero had eloquence to co­uer his vaine glorye, I but had Cicero no vaine glorie, howe sweet were his cloquence. O Philamis who so liueth in Pas­san, must beare the stone Smaragdus with the Griphon a­gainst the stinging of Serpents, carrie Garlike to conquere the Leopard, learne of the bird Laurus to flie like an Egle, and floate like a fish he must be fit for all times, and haue foresight against all treason, for heare with vs men intend much but a­mend nothing, being singular in sinne and simple in science: liue therefore with friends, as if thou maist lack friends, Lions a great cittie hath beene consumed with a light fier, Hemus a huge riuer hath beene dryes with a little drought, wealth will faile, and followers will be faulce, learne therefore to preuent occasions, least thou be inforced to crie with had I wist:

Let thy attire be co [...]e without prodigalitie thy behaui [...]ur courtly without peremptorines, let thy companions hau [...] more wit then words, let thy diet sauor more of Philosophie the [...] su­perfluitie, let thy reason bee thine eyes maister, thy God the [Page] gouernour of thy reason: so shall thou worke according to his will, and will no lesse then I wish. No sooner had Anthenor ended in these termes, but Philamis feeling where his shooe most wrong him, being stoong with a Nettle, thought to cure it with this Item. Great Lorde and learned Cittizen (your estate requireth no more, your studdie shewes no lesse) as I perceyue your c [...]unsailes proceede of loue, so shall my replyes be seasoned with dutie, being as well taught to reuerence Cae­sar for his dominions, as Seneca for his disciplines: whereas you condempue me for mistaking curtesie, I am not curious to amend that, since the Cap pleadeth not reconcilement, and a man were better reforme himselfe indeed, then performe more mischiefe vnder the colour of duti [...]: you haue vsed many reasons to diswade retchlesnesse, choise figures to disprooue fancies, tying vanitic in the gin, attyring [...]rtue with the Garland: whereby you haue prooued your selfe eloquent, my selfe ignorant: wherein I neither crosse you, neither consent with you: knowing that vertue is not discerned without vani­tie, and contraries beeing opposed are the sooner perceiued: should I not trie sowre, how should I trust sweete? should I not conuerse with bad, howe should I knowe good? compare not Heridmi with the Eagle that is a faire bird? ioyne not the Lillie with the Rose that is a sweet Flower, allude not the blacknesse of the P [...]rpuse, to the beautie of the Dolphin that is a faire Fish: Oh [...]ather the knowledge of si [...]e is a mightie step to vertue? Cato continually liuing among seuere men, became more seuere, where if he had borrowed somewhat of the Epicure, he had not beene so impatient in his ende: Alex­ander a great Monarch, talked with Diogenes a poore Ci­nick, whose precepts had he followed in his exploits, he had [...]in more constant, and lesse incontinent? you condemne youthlie companie, so did the woolfe in his age, who seeing his whelpes forwarde in the spoile, reprehended them for their hast and spee­die footmanship: you blame brauerie, so did Laertis who see­ing his shoulders vnable to beare rich armes, began to discom­mend Vlisses when he was armed: you mislike loue, because you lack power, being loath we should performe that in acte, [Page] which you daylie practise in will. Though you delight with the [...] to be solitarie, yet giue vs leaue with St [...]rla to take out sollace. The Agate hath spots and yet pretious: the Er­mine spots & yet pretious, the blew saphire, hath a white cres [...], and yet pretious, onely precise thoughts alude all things to their owne purpose, and despise most things in that they may not practise any thing, and this thing, and this thing is thei [...] principall practise to reprehend, which being seasoned with an enuie of others happinesse, is very pernitious, you sorrow for the defaults of your cittizens, and the corruptions, vrging the desarts of our forefathers, to condemne our follies: but shall I [...]nswer with Cleander, they in times past which were not ouermuch studious of Philosophie, became most braue and re­nowmedmen by their actions, and more famous then wee be, because they practised vertue indeed, and we in these daies only vse it in woord, by which meanes they are more happy then [...] be. The fish Mirenula hateth the Crocodile, yet both poyson: so oulde men hate the young in that they execute, and them­selues cannot inact. It were tedious to measure the sea by a line, to shut the heauens, in a compasse, to number the Honey combes of Hibla, to count the sauors of Affrica, and no lesse troublesome to alledge the reasons, which approue the conuer­sing with ill, and the commoditie to knowe error: the enuie of ould men is as common as they are crooked, and as they haue furrowes in their faces, so haue they frowardnesse in theyr fan­cies. I must end with Tully (Anthenor) and bouldly tell you this, that your opin [...]on is not onely full of lightnesse, but also fraught with follie. Tis better to be Vlisses then Ciclopes: Prometheus then Epimetheus: Argus then Cepidus, let me therefore c [...]unsaile you good Father, learne more & speake lesse, graye hayre should haue grauer behauiour, good perswa­sions, or no speech: for as a moth is soonest spyed in the sunne, a spot in the whitest Lawne, a moule on the fayrest face, and [...]ier in the cle [...]rest fountaine: so ignorance is most apparant in an oulde man, in that his discourse ought to bee most per­fect: with this abrupt conclusion Philamis departed his com­panie either loathing to answer the r [...]st: or l [...]cking iudgement [Page] to co [...]eiue the right: but Authenor who had sounded the [...]reame, and knewe the shallowe, sailed the Sea, and seene the danger, sorrowing at the y [...]ng mans inconstancie, and woon­dering at his discourtesie repaired to his [...]udy, where he wrote this Item to all yo [...]ge Gentlemen.

In this sort Anthenor councelled his countrey meu war­ning them by his experience to preuent their youthlie negli­gence, but Philamis not perceiuing, that the rotten wood which glistereth in the night is gray and drye in the day time: that delights which are faire in showe, are foule in substance, that things which are best in apparance are woorst in proofe, followed his [...]uld course, and defaulted in his youthfull incon­stancie, thinking that the tide would haue no ebbe, the time would haue no ende. Among all such as conuersed with him, there was a young Gentleman of the same yeares, and no lesse substance, called Philamour, who cyther for that he agreed in nature with Philamis, or for that necessitie would haue it so: entered an inuiolable league of amitie with the braue Rauen­nois, these couple counited by vowes, and vnited by loue, ly­ued together in such manner, that if Philamis sighed, Phila­mour was sorrie, if Philamour was pleasant, Philamis was not pensiue: if Phllamis would mourne, Philamour was melancholie: if Philamour passionate for loue, Philamis was loues patient: what Philamis said, Philamour would sooth: what Philamour intended, Philamis ended: so that neither Eurialus was more deere to his Nisus, nor Caesar to Cicero: nor Ephestion to Alexander: nor Lucilius to Seneca, then Phil [...]mour to Philamis.

In this sort passed they theyr time in Passan, so that there seemed to bee one soule in two bodyes, one heart in two har­boures, neither seperated at boorde, nor seuered at bed: but as idle mindes haue yeelding motions, and such as are in­tangled with libertie, are soonest thrauled by loue, so Phila­mour, like the light Fether in the strong winde, the slender skiffe in the greatest storme: the weake Willowe in the waste­full ouer ouerflo [...]e, tra [...]ersing the streetes with his fr [...]nds, and seeking how to satisfie his fantasse: at last beheld the daughter [Page] of Nicrosion a Noble man of that Cittye, w [...] [...]d no other heyre but Harpaste, nor other hope, but hit good [...]ortune: this Ladye was beautifull beyond woonder', and more wittie then wealthie: hir bodye was adorned with the guiftes of nature, (hauing eyes as faire as the Carbuncle, but more cleerer: Cheekes more crimson then the Rose, but sweeter: Lippes Cherrieripe: limmes choicely framed,) her minde with stai­ed iudgement: reddy thoughts, pleasant conceits, perfect constancie: treasure enough to intangle the eye, riches suffi­cient to rauishe the soule. These perfections had so much power ouer Philamour, that he tooke no other comfort but in hir company, her eye was his Idol, her wordes were his Ora­cles, so that he seemed to confesse with Alexis, that loue was the infallible mistresse of men, killing all former pleasures in them, planting theyr delight on one onely obiect, which the more a man seeth, the more he seeketh, neither was young Philamis vnattainted. (But in contrarie sort) for Harpaste behoulding his hautye lookes, his honourable learning, his braue discourse, his boulde demeanour, his Socraticall que­stions, his Iudiciall aunswers: began to catche houlde where there was no handle, to kindle Fuell where there was no Fier, and to beginne hir loue where there was no lyking. This entrance made Fortune to manifest troubles, making this her induction to most tyrannicall cruelties: for the more Philamour courted Harpaste, the more she contemned him: the more Harpaste laboured to allure Philamis, the more Philamis neglected the loue of Harpaste.

Manye were the presents on both sides, many the per­swations, many the priuie sighes to importe fancie: manye the apparant shewes of vnfayned fauour, if Philamour complayned hee found no comforte, if Harpaste bemooned hir, shee fo [...]e no medicine. But Fortune which is ac­customed with great Arte (as Garimbert wrighteth) to take feare from those ouer whom she most meaneth to tyranise, in midst of Philamis security, shewed hir greatest seuerity, for he chaunsed (oh vnfortunate chance) to behould Eurinome the disdainef [...]ll, the paragon of comlinesse, but the patterne [Page] of [...]: [...] had a [...] to [...], a Circes [...] to enchaunt, Phillis beautie, but Amarillis pride. Oh too faire [...]: she was eloquent to [...], learned [...] contempue, shee was wilye to [...] men wretched, shee [...] smile to see men sighe ( [...] Eurinome) this the aime of his conceit, this the ende of his comfort. Amidst the passio­nate estate of these louers, Philamour that was first caught in the [...], was most of all tormented in his loue, confessing with Aristotle, that onely beauties eyes were eloquent, pro­testing with Plato that loue was a sage Poet, and made other [...], for his onely comforte was to contemplate one Har­paste, and his minde (altogether before time addicted to plea­sure) was wholy giuen ouer to painte out her prayses in Poe­trie. One especiall day among the rest, Harpaste desirous to discouer [...] discontents, perswaded her father Nicrotion to make a solemne feast: wherevnto among the rest, Philamis for loue, and Philamour for fashion sake were inuited. The­ther also repaired Eurimòne the [...], bearing a browe of Iuorie, a brest of Adamant. Great was the assembly on that day, sumptuous the Banquet. These louers obserued Ouids obseruations at the Table, making such prittye combates with their longing eyes, that theyr hearts through impati­ence were well nye consumed with pashion. The Dinner [...], and Table taken vp, according to the custome of Au­stria, the Gentlemen first daunced theyr Courranto, some [...] their Temples with wreaths of Mirtill, other with Garlands of Roses, each one presenting theyr [...] with a seuerall Flower: Philamis among the rest, with due reue­rence gaue Eurinome a Marigoulde: Philamour bestowed a [...] on Harpaste, hearing their Corronets of [...] in their handes: when being desired by the Ladyes and Gen­tlemen to discouer the secret of theyr presents: Philamis be­ing most forwarde, commaunded the Cornets to sounde this Barginet, when taking Eurinome by the hande, he began the daunce, and tuned his delightfull voice, warbling out this Songe.

This conclusion was shut vp with a long looke and a [...] sighe, when Philamis conducted Eurinome to her place, from whom hee receiued this crabbed curtesie. Sir in that you are to sillie to be the Sunne, and I nothing so fonde to be your flower, twere good you sought a more kinder [...], for I like no such false harted Phoebus, with this smiling [Page] answer and sorrowfull reput [...]e, Philamis nipped on the head, rubd there where it itched not, and drawing himselfe a parte gaue himselfe wholye [...]uer to penstuenesse, whilst Phila­mour reddye to satisfie the expectation of the Ladyes, after the Musicke had sounded his Madrigale, tooke Harpaste by the hande, and in this manner applyed his Song to the melodie.

Euery one in the companie was delighted with this dittie, onely Harpaste counted all stringes out of tune, since hir heart stringes were out of temper, notwithstanding to shew her selfe courtelie, though somewhat discontented, she answe­red expectation with action, not speech: vouchsafing him a Basolos manos, for his melodie and martirdome. After all these Bargincts and Madrigales were daunced, according to the custome of Austria, the Ladyes called for a Basket, wherein euery Gentleman and Gentlewoman casting their Gloues, there was election made who should be Kings and Queenes, the lottes cast: Philamis was appointed King, and Harpaste Queene, who by order ought to preferre some question whereon the company should dispute: and which they should decide, the Rauennois therefore vouchsafing the place, and incited to the performance, began thus, When Mi­das was made Judge faire Ladyes, Apollo had the woorst: [Page] homlie wits cannot decide heauenly doubts, and better were it to giue ouer with ignorance, then to be presumptuo [...] in error: but since I haue a Cibilla to assist me, who if my words be ri­diculous, can aunswer you with Oracles, I will speake that you may condemne me, to the end she may sprake, and all may commend hir. The Lapidarie layeth the foyle before he setteth the stone: The Dier washeth the cloath before he stayneth the coulour, the Mason squareth his plot before he layeth his foun­dation: so am I but the entrance to iudgement, she the essence, she the substance I the cipher, hauing this onely happinesse to speake with her, which of her selfe onelie speaketh well: Har­paste blushed at this praise, taking the commendation most kindlie at his handes, from whom she expected most comfort, and sodainly had shee yeelded him replye, but that Philamis fearing least the wounde should be stung with too many Net­tles, began thus. Since I am to propone the question, and you to decide the quarrell, (faire Ladyes and braue Gentle­men) let it bee this: Whether it bee better to deserue and haue no friendship, or offend and finde fauour: A matter incident to the time, and accordant to the persons: and since Eurinome is cheefest in woorth, and choisest in wisddme, I will if so my Queene condiscend, that she begin the contro­uersie, Harpaste that liked the clawse, quicklye subscribed: Wherevpon after some attention: disdainfull Eurinome be­gan thus. Since I am charged by those who may commaund, and peremptorinesse is greater offence then ignorance, I will vtter my opinion meo Iure, yet conclude all things with reue­rence, and salua authoritate. The question is not so doubfull as daungerous, for either shall I war [...]e against my selfe, in wresting somwhat, or lay my hand on my hart, and wish I had sayd nothing: B [...]t since I must say something, to obserue De­corum. I will with Apelles drawe a line to showe my leuell, giuing reasons rather of likelihood then opinion, since I meant my words shall be no nets to intangle me, and my desire is to please in speech, to preuent offence, not to performe what I pleade, for that is against my conscience: I say, that offence to finde fauour is a fonde course, for that were to catch the moone [Page] with a trammell, to charme the haire with a tabor, to couple the Cinick with the Stoick, or the Snayle with the Storke, for women are like quailes not charmed without a sweete call, like Dolphins not allured but by musick, and shew of obser­nance towards them, is the best meanes to be soueraignes o­uer them: but [...]nce this difference stands vpon election, which is best, and the choise is either desert or offence, which are con­trarie: let vs examine the fruites of both, so shall we finde the successe of fauour: desert proceedeth rather of hope and will to please them by seruice, whom we honour, then to displease: desert hath many branches, dutie, seruice, loyaltie, forwardnes to exemplifie our loues, either by aduenture of life, expence of liuing, endangering our bodies, or endeuouring our wits: con­tempt or offence, dependeth on detraction, [...] consist­ing on more branches of iniustice, then the other hath respect vnto equi [...]ie. Since therefore to deserue well proceedeth from vertue: to offend, from iniustice: heere is a deepe Dilemma to be discouered, why the one should finde fauour, the other haue no friendship: and how may this be decided but by a wo­mans reason, who since she borroweth of the [...] to many infirmities, may bouldly with the blinde man take a pillar for her paramour: and determine all controuersies at hir plea­sure, Vulcan deserued well, yet Mars was befreended, and the God of warre offended much, yet was fancied most: see heere an instance to destroye all propositions, women admit no proportion, they are peremptorie, theyr choise is as theyr change, and their change as the moone, if any aske why so: the answer is, the Moone dooth so: if any hath the power to mend her, we will giue them leaue to amend vs: Thus haue I made my spoke, which if you admit in sporte, and take as I meane, the wisest shall be incertaine of my meaning. Philamour sec­ing how voluntarie she sought to obscure hir thoughts, short­ned her talke by the [...]st, and in this sorte leueled at his loue: Lady Eurinome I [...] you auowe much but allow nothing: giuing vs a taste, but no triall, vsing the pollicie of cunning embroderers who when they haue exceeded themselues and other mens conceit, leaue somewhat imperfect to couler their [Page] owne wants, and mooue admiration in those which cannot fol­low the woorke, you neither condempne the one cause, nor cō ­mend the other, but I that haue a wound by Achilles sword, must seeke my weale by the same. Applying my reasons to that purpose, I may perswade, and to that ende shee may take pittie: which she (sayd Harpaste) you speake to doubtfull? That (she replyed) Philamour that examines me in this dif­ferent: whie I examine you Philamour (sayd shee) as your Queene, whose fauour exceeds your fortune. But I (replyed Philamour) pleade pittie at Harpastes hande, not as she is a Q [...]een: why sayd she, but being Harpaste she is too bare for such a Lord, but sayd he Philamour were blessed in hauing such a Ladie. Soft madame replyed Philamis, suffer suppli­ants to offer at your shrine. I will Philamis (sayd she) so you will hould the candle. Lorde sayd Eurimone howe Queenes forget themselues and louers loose themselues, for our king is become a priuate Gentleman by this plea, and Philamour hath so forgot himselfe in the entrance, as I feare me hee will be to feeble to make an end: Philamour galled with a sharpe spurre, pricked with a stiffe thorne, after a smiling modestie be­gan in this sort to prosecute his pretended discourse. Though it be a common fault (Ladyes) yet is it commendable, (the heart to bee where the treasure is, the eye to be fixed on that which is most fancied) yet is it an honest [...] (at least wise ho­nest in womens opinion) w [...]o yeeld most thanks to their louers when they are most thoughton, and greatest praise when they are [...] plaid withall, pardon me therefore Eurimone. if I haue aunswered Harpastes doubtes, since I am curious, least she should suspect my dutie ( [...] neglect it sayde Harpaste in secret, yeelding that period to his pause) wherevpon hee thus proceeded.

It is a certaine and practised rule among the Phisiti­o [...], [...] Serpents haue least venome in theyr teeth, because their often chewing auoydeth the same, which rudiment is most certaine in loue, which the more it is exercised with trou­bles, the more constant it is, and lesse fayned, and what grea­ter troubles in loue then to deserue: the strange rigors, the [Page] rude repulses, suffered with content, sustained without con­tempt, is not this desart? To be rewarded with cruelty for cur­tesie, to returne fauours for frumpes, praises for displeasures, is not this desert: To esteeme all dangers dutie, all torments trifles, all penance pleasure, is not this desart: and are not all these troubles: being rewarded with vndeserued torment: which though among liuing men they are counted vaine, a­mong louing men are helde for vertuous: for as the Pecocke hath fairest coulors about the crest, the Doue choisest feath [...]rs about hir neck, so Louers haue deepest sorrowes in the heart, which since they suffer to deserue, they accoumpt their misfor­tunes felicitie.

Tullie complayning him of all his miseries in exile, annexeth this: At vbi pro aris & socis agitur nullis, ego malorum tempestatibus impellor, and as Tullie, so true Lo­uers, when the cause concerneth loue for which they endure, theyr discontents sort vnto delights, and it is vnto them felici­tie to suffer misserie. For as without the mixture of light no­thing is cleere, and nothing darke but that which hath darke­nesse: as without the aide of fire nothing is hot, nor without the assistance of aire could, so without trouble in loue there is no triumph, without repulses no pleasures, without sower [...] sweet, without danger no desert, which like the pure gould in the hot fire, the bright Saphire in the blacke foyle, the cleere Moone in the winter night, the more it is frowned at, the more it is refined: Since then desert is such, and exercised with such sorrowes, howe vnkinde are they that regarde it not: [...] how happie are they that are vnregarded? This is the bent of the question, this the benefit of my quarrell: who auowe that it is better to deserue and haue no fauour, then offende and finde friendship: for heare the indignitie followeth the desert, and they are iustlye conuicted, who valew not the force of ver­tue: and who are they? Truelie Ladyes your selues, imi­tating the Saintes in Churches, who smile as well on those that deface them, as they that defye them, resem­bling the woonderous roote [...], which beeing tou­ched, [...] out fire, and plucked vppe procureth death: [Page] the more you are praised, the more you repine: the more men scrue you, the more you scorne them, resembling the Cama­mell, which the more it is troden the more it springeth, and the more you are courted, the more are you coy: to be breefe then, as they that walke in the Sunne are still accompanyed with shadowe, so those that follow fancie must waight on sorrow: for as there are no limits in Ladyes beautie, so are there no limits in their affections, all their workes are of supereroga­tion, which we may see to bee so, but must not say so. To be briefe, I so glorie in my desarts, which show the constancie of my minde, that though I haue no friendship, yet I reioyce that I deserue friendship. Since the one showeth my [...]euotion, the other her doublenesse, the one is my best, the other her brutish­nesse, Philamour spake this with a vehement sighe, which I suppose he set downe for his period. When at last Hirpaste firing hir eyes on Philamis, with blushing modestie began thus.

How likes your Maiestie of this Orator? hath he not prea­ched well? Yes Madame said he, and would haue pleaded bet­ter had he chosen his owne pulpet: oh said she quid Graculo cum fidibus? play vpon them if he had cunning replyed Phi­lamour. Stop the fludgates sayd Eurimone, wee abound in to much follie, all are follies in them madam, answered Phila­mis, whose best desert is but offences: I but howe blest is hee that offends and findes fauour sayd Harpaste? as blest quoth he as he that angleth without a baite, and catches a Breame, why not beauty replyed Eurmome pointing at Harpaste: yes beautie if you please said he, pointing at Eurinome. Thus tossed they the discourse too and fro, till at such time as Har­paste was ready to speake hir opinion there entered the hall a faire and beautifull Ladie, neerely allyed to Nicrosion the Lorde of that place: attyred all in mourne full coulours of black [...]ir goulden haire scattered along hir goodly shoulders, in the o [...]e hande shee bare a light Taper, in the other a naked Sw [...]de: who after she had amased the whole assembly with her [...], hauing attayned silence, began thus.

thus said, she gaue vp the ghost: & hir handmaids drew both him and hir out of presence: conuaying both the bodyes according as Nicrosian commanded into a priuate chamber, inuiting al the assistance to these haples louers fu­nerals. Eurinomes hart throbbed to consider on their thral­dom: and Harpaste taking Philamis by the hand, asked if the chaunce were not pittifull? But this noueltye and the night parted the whole companie: so that Philamis had no meanes to sollicite his mistresse, nor Philamour to b [...]ay his misery: for euery one in steede of opening loue, was inforced to take leaue: but among al the rest, Harpas [...] was most mooued, who behoulding the haples death of Claetia, [Page] was so discomforted, that no speech can discouer the halfe of hir sorrowe. Philamour as a body without soule, see­ing his mistresse without sollace, departed to his lodging and fell a languishing: Philamis both comforted him, and sought to content hir, and taking pen in hand, presented hir with this letter consolatorie.

Philamis hauing finished his letter, both signed, sealed it, and sent it away, spending all his other indeuors in me­ditation of his mistres, and comforting his Philamour, who poore Gentleman tossed in the s [...]as of sorrow, like a ship without a helme, grew so wan with weakenes, & pale with pensiuenesse, that euery one who beheld him, thought him more fit for his funerals, then meete for his mariage, Philamis who preferred the safetie of his friend, before his owne sollace, in midst of his dumpes, assailed him with this aduice. How now my Philamour? what wilt thou be so spent with griefe, as to be past gouernment, & so giuen ouer to mone, that thou wilt forget thou art a man? [...]oderate [Page] teares, are like immesurable showers, which in steed of fee­ding the plants with forwardnes, ouerflow thē with furie: these weeping asswage not, but incite g [...]iefe, which with the Aspis pricking but the arme, pierceth the hart: thy disease is not sicknes, but want of foresight, neyther any fauor but fancie: a graft of thine owne eyes planting, a griefe procee­ding from thy owne idlenes. The Tortuse [...]eping in the sun, is soonest surprised: the Mullet strained by the gill is sonest betraied: in briefe your [...] beuers are like y^e trouts: fish, caught with tickling, consumed by fancie, because you will be foolish. Fie my Philamour, let reason teach thee, that loue is but a sightly sweet, not a substantiall, shadowed in the shape of a woman to show hir wantonnes, painted in the figure of a flying Child, to show his fleeting inconstan­cie. If thy reason had as great power as it ought, and were thy opinions restrained by good perswasions, thou shalt cō ­fesse, that time spent in loue, is time lost in life: then which (before God) there is nothing more foolish, then which (the more griefe) there is not any thing more followed. There is nothing can be vertuous, that endeth in repent: & what then loue, is more repented when it is possessed? the ioyes are no soner attempted, then ended, & a little kindnes maks him who was as hote as a tost as coole as a clock. But say thou loue a Penelope, euen in this chaste loue thou shalt haue some crosse, a woman to kill thee with weepings, La­ertes to trouble thee with his lothed age, Telemachus to try thee with his childish teares, riuals to tempt thy wife, if she wilbe wanton, roisters to reuel in thy hall: in briefe, this one wife is the occasiō of many woes: this one Penelope the cause of much preiudice: say she be a Helena, oh thou [...]happy, that must weare Vulcans badge on thy browe, and beare the seales of hir shame, & thy scant foresight. Be­ [...]? Philamour, as there is no shadow without a sub­stance, no Leopard without his spot, no Liz [...]d without his staine: no sweete without his sower: so is there no Wo­man without hir fault, no Lady without hir imperfections. [Page] [...] may be faulse, say she [...] wise, she will be wilfull, say she [...] an ideot, she is a burthen: how so euer she be, she [...] chuse but bee a woman, which from their in fancie follow new fanglenesse: say thy wise be fruitfull and bring thee infants, euen herein maist thou be infortunate, when loofe heyres shall l [...]ish out thy heritage: say she hee barrame, thou wilt loath hir, what so euer she be, beleeue me she hath a longing tooth, and a long tonge, two ill neighbors in one bodie, the one will weaken thy purse if it be still pleased, the other waken thee from thy sleepes, if it be not iustly char­med. Beleeue me it was worthily sayd of Tully, and not fo worthily as wisely, that it is extreame follie to delight our selues in those things, in which there is more excessing pleasure, then exceeding profit. The baites of louers (saith Ruben) the art they vse, the snares they set, the [...] they shew, are not all these fruites of Uanitie. It is [...] [...]aith [...] to behould faire things, but not to bee too bould with them, for as Zenophon [...]aith, the fire burneth, and a faire face inflameth: harke what Seneca alledgeth, there was neuer faire woman whose beautie was not ac­companied eyther with crueltie, or whose heart was not thrauled by ingratitude. To bee briefe my Philamour, since nothing is more curssed, then curious follie, nor anye thing more vncomlie, then for a man to disclaime libertie, good friend be good to thy selfe, and leaue griefe, other­wise in languis [...]ing as thou doost, and liuing thus desolate, thou wilt kill me in being cruell to thy selfe, and end my dayes by eternizing thy discontents. Philamour finding that as the fire cannot be opprest, nor the ayre be indoma­ged by strokes, so the minde afflicted by loue, cannot bee drawne from affection, returned [...] this aunswer. Deare friend as no tyrant in Scithia is so cruell as to for­bid the miserable to weepe: so no mans heart can be so in­censed, to draw them from distresse, who wholy are deuou­red in heau [...]nesse: hast thou not read of Socrates? who be­ing [Page] [...], by onely death sayd he, for [...] dateth [...]ut [...] [...]eath, and calamitie finisheth with life: Thou art sorry to [...] sad, and this is kindnesse, but wert thou settled to [...] my s [...]c­cors, how palpable were thy curtesie. Well sayd Menan­der, that he that is sick in body had néede of the [...], but he that is crucified in spit it, had need of a friend, I haue heard thee speake well Philamis, but would haue thee doo well: thou perceiu [...]st I loue, thou then perceiuest a deepe wound Philamis, a lingring passion, but deuine in possessi­on: loue is like Darius Uine, ritch in showe, like Architas Doue, cunning in flight, which thou maist catch with thine eye, but not cast of without thine end, your proud Philoso­phers for all their precepts, haue sacrificed Roses to this Venus, borne a Candle before this Saint, being Lordes of theyr sayings, but not of theyr sences. Plato commen­ded by Augustine for his heauenly policies, had his para­moure, who in his deepest studdies, had rather see Archa­naesse naked, then discourse vpon nature, who being a block in euery letchers way in hir youth when the Crowes foote had caught hir eye, was Platoes deerest pigsney, and hee who before time was famous in many wrightings, became in his best time in [...]amous, being besotted on many wrinc­kles, Socrates though he were patient, was entangled by Aspatia: Demosthenes the eloquent, a louer: Leocra­tes, though a great Philosopher, loued the flesh: Pericles though famous for wit, loued a faire Woman: Aristotle for all his Metaphiskes was loue sick, making his happines of none but Hermia, in briefe it is a common rule: these leárned men haue y^e lightest mistresses, & do penance before the world for their peremptorines of wit. O Philamis, if it be possible to charme loue, why were these inchanted: if they were toucht in their excelence, why should I greeue to be tryed in my ignorance? who washeth the Asses eares, looseth both his Sope and his labour: who endeuoreth im­possible things, mispendeth his cost and his candle: in dis­swading [Page] loue. Then sweete friend, thou followest the na­ture of Hiosciames, which hath a blacke graine, but a grosse fruite, and vnder shadowe of inforcing sleepe [...]erea­ueth the sences: Make mee Caucasus a playne, Danubie drie, Ripheus without snowe, driue the Pilat fish from the Sharke, the Iron from the Loadstone, then take loue from a liberall minde. Oh Philamis, Loue is the bond that linketh the heauens, and should I loath it? Loue the sweet that makes the Gods insaciate, and should I leaue it? But to proceed and prosecute reason.

Thou condemnest Loue, seeking by a fewe shadowes of imperfection to extinguish the sweetnesse of pleasure. Oh my Philamis, thou canst not haue the effecte, but the defect followeth, neyther the honny in the Bee, but the pricke in the bum: beleeue mee, as it is rashnesse to con­demne that which thou canst not determine. So in some thinges it is better to bee deceyued, than to distrust. You blame all for one, making all skinnes fowle, in that some are scard, all bodyes without beautie, in that some haue blottes, attyring all natures in one necessitie, as if all [...] shoulde bee blasted, because some bloome not: all waters shoulde bee deadly, in that some indaunger: and all women wicked, in that some are wanton. Oh Phi­lamis, though there was a lew [...] Phillis, there was a louely Philacides: and though a loose Lais, yet a louing Iphias.

Heare Ouid, for hee was ominous: Saepe viri fallunt, els Iason had vsed lesse iest, and Medea possessed more ioy: Theseus had deserued more, Ariadne had serued lesse: Demophon had kept his promise, Phyllis scapther penance.

You iudge women by colours, and tye diuinitie to con­ceits, [Page] where Aristotle neuer wrote surer Axiome t [...]an this, that as when the Raine-bow sheweth, then there fore­passeth a show [...]r: So when Ladies shew freshest coulo [...]s of coustancie, then men do [...] most colour: b [...]shrow their pain­ting, women owe them penance. But to drawe nearer to catch occasion by the fore-locke, and curtall my Philamis in his folly: if nature had done nothing in vaine, as the phi­losopher affirmeth, then the bonde wherewith shee tyeth thinges cannot bee in vaine, the harmony of the heauens consisteth on loue, yea such force and effect hath loue in all thinges, that the Uine imbraceth the [...], the Iui [...] the Oke, seeming to delight in the barke, when the body is dead: in stones the [...] loues iron: in mettals, golde quick-siluer: among mortall which are saints, man would not be besotted with these sweete saints. Proue that Ve­nus haue a yellow colour, yet Mars will followe Venus: good mens pleasures, depende not vppon bad mens pre­cisenes.

But to leaue long discourse, since wordes haue no pow­er to expresse true worthinesse, (my Philamis) know thou that I loue, neyther can I discharge mee of that thral­dome, but by myne owne ouerthrowe: It behooueth thee therefore in louing mee, to styrre vp Harpastes loue towardes mee, otherwise, as thou vnderstandest not the least of my ieopardies, so shalt thou beholde the last of my ioyes.

Philamis, that knewe the cloth by the lyst, the Lyon by his clawe, and the daunger by his discourse, replyed thus: Philamour, if thou were counselled by Democritus, more surer were thy comfort: for if thou desirest not much, a little would seeme vnto thee sufficient, but this thy lon­ging appetyte beyond custome, threateneth thee wyth a daunger aboue conceipt, which I see it were better to lament than amende in thee. But since the lawe of na­ture tyeth mee, and the league of amitie enioyneth mee, I will rather fayle my selfe than loose thy wel [...]are. [Page] Rise therfore and write, let me be the messenger to present, and the instrument to perswade, whereby thou shalt bring all things to such conformitie, that thou maist be assured of comfort: to sit lingring thus in thy bed, and lament thus against beautie, is rather the meanes to waste thy life, then win thy loue. Philamour in this sort being comforted by his deere freend Philamis, gathered his spirits together, and taking pen in hand began this perswasiue letter.

This Letter watered with many teares, and clos [...]d [...] with kinde kisses, was commended to the [...] of [...] ­mis, who wholy addicted to procure his friend [...], [...] expedition to finde out Harpaste, and at such time entered he hir fathers house, as she had perused a [...]d pawsed on his [...]ast perswasions, who no sooner was certified of his [...], but expecting that which he suspected least: she gaue h [...] [...] [Page] courteous welcome. Sir Philamis, were we not inforced to strawe Flowers for our last buriall, we would strawe rushes for you, you are such a stranger: but you I feare me, are so much giuen ouer to Philosophie, as you forget your friends. Madame replyed Philamis, vnlesse you soone leaue your strangenesse, I beleeue wee shall haue more cause to straw flowers, then you to syred Rushes. Harpaste touched at the quick, could forbeare no longer: but drawing him a part into a baye windowe which ouer looked the Garden, she began thus.

Why what newes Sir Philamis? or what cause of dis­content. Oh Harpaste sayd Philamis, and therewith ga [...]e such a sigh, as made hir heart sick: here is a secret depending on your sentence, which if you answer not with courtesie, you may hap to lament with Claetia: wherevpon he deliue­red hir the letter, who supposing it to bee an arrowe of his owne Quiuer, a plea of his owne penning, replyed thus. Sir I will peruse the texte, that I may interpret the mea­ [...], and if I finde no error, your Maistership may hap haue kinde iudgement: wherevpon leauing him in a mase, shee soddainly lockt hir selfe in hir closet, where with a trembling hand, and a troubled heart, shee brake vp the s [...]ale and per­vsed the scqueale: but when shee perceyued the streame ran the wrong waye, hir Cake was dowe, hir courage was dampe: and in steede of replye, shee rent the paper. But when shee remembred him who brought the Letter, and considered his [...], in that hee brought the message, shee gathered hir wits together, and wrote this replye.

[Page] No sooner had she dispatched this pertmptorie replie, but she returned to Philamis, who seeing hir coul [...]r chaunged, and hir curtesie waxen could, began thus. Howe now Har­pastes, howe like you my plea: not so well as your person said she, which if I should set light by, it were a slight matter, in that you are so slie a messenger. Why Madame replyed Philamis, haue you found any error? I would I had not, said Harpaste, so you had lost your labour: houlde take this Li­bell and carrie it to your Lawyer: wherein he shall finde I except so much, that I accept nothing. Philamis troubled with this gleeke, began in this sorte once againe to rub vppon the gall: Why my Harpaste, I had well hoped that Phila­mours desert should deserue more pittie then impatience: what he deserues sayd she, he may deuine by my sentence, as for your selfe, if you haue sutes of your owne, you were best follow them, for beleeue me his is non suited. I but madame replyed Philamis, shall he not be welcome to the buriall? Welcome sayd Harpaste? belecue me none better, I had ra­ther waight on his burials then bridals, and so tell him. Here­with all with a disdainfull blushe, she soddainlye forsooke his company, and Philamis departed thence wholye discontent. And as wretched fortune would, hee passed by Eurimones doore, at such time as in hir greatest triumph she sat to showe hir selfe, expecting to giue some due to some one of hir L [...] ­uers: who espying Philamis, soddenly called him vnto hir girding at him in this sort. Now fares our gallant stranger? what hath not anye goodly lasses as yet [...] you honour Venus? Yes faire Eurimone (quoth he) I haue with the Athenian long time playd with Venus shadowe: and were you as forward in fauour, as I could deserue in fancie: what then sayd Eurimone? I would then replyed Philamis, play with [...] [...] your person: you would hurt [...] I feare me sayd she: [...] hir Madame (quoth Philamis) wherupō setching [...] sigh, he in this sort discouered his fancie. Oh [...] your [...] hath grāted me a clew to trace loues [...], [...] your goodnes vouchsafeth me to speake to [...] whō I most serue: I wil [...] my passions by your pa­tience, [Page] which if they may [...] you, as they haue mated me, beleeue me, I shall enioy the fulnes of my ioy, & you [...] my faithfulnes and loyaltie. Truth it is ( [...]) that I loue you, and Venus hath past such iudgement on my paint, as it cannot be reuersed but by your pittie: since therefore my af­fections are firme, and you fitte for fancie: you yoong, and I youthfull: you faire, and I faithfull: vouchsafe the oportu­nity, and salue my impatient sorrow, since crueltie is y^• staine of your credit, and pittie the greatest of your perfections.

Eurimone like a cunning fowler, seeing the bird alreadie pend in the snare, began in this sort to play with his feathers. Why Philamis I am sure you are too learned to loue, which is a sicknesse of the mind, a surfet of idlenessc. Beleeue nice I know you mocke Loue, for you cannot meane not Loue. May it bee thought that a man who writes so well, should doate so soone [...] Or he who can square out the quadrant, be so farre out of square. Alas Philamis, I am too yong to be marryed, and too old to be mocked. I pray you therefore exercise your gibes on other, for my nose loues no iesting.

Philamis seeing her impatience replyed thus. If my sun­plicitie shoulde bee taken for subtiltie, and my deuotion for doublenes: beleeue mee Eurimone, I had rather die than speake any thing, and perish ere I would perswade: but since Loue (as Garimbert saith) surmounteth the fortresse of the spirit, carueth the hard Diamonds, warmeth the cold I sicles that often lie hidden in the brestes of delicate Ladies: I will speake in that hope, and vow that I auow nothing but truth. Plato hauing long time lead a chast life, finally in his latter dayes made his sacrifice to satisfie and appease nature, in that he seemed greatly to haue offended her, by his seuere cha­stitie: time lost in loue is the lame time of our life, and Ladyes that loath when they arc wisht, are soonest lefte when they would. Ah Eurimone, thou art yoong, and must be yeelding: thou art a saire rose, and must be gathered: a pretty bud, and must be plucked: thou art fitte for mans meat, and meete for marriage: which (since in a [...]l honorable [...] I [...] vnto you) repay me not with [...] for my [...], nor wi [...]h [Page] [...] for my good deserts. Beleue me Eurimone, as salt sauoreth, so it fretteth: as Salsa parilla dryeth, so it decayeth: as lingering is sweete in loue, so too long lingering breedes languishing. Oh seeke not thou my griefe, least I proue thee vngratefull: these m [...]yst teares trickling from my mournful eyes, since they are my witness [...]s in loue, craue that thy chast thoughts may preuent thy wilfulnes in loue. Eurimone, like the faulcon seeing the fowle stoope, began to strike, and the flye intangled, left not to follow him, but gaue Philamis this gillop to coole his hot stomacke.

Oh sir, they that go a marrying, run a madding, who are inforced to make those who now would [...] their heeles, then to be their heads. Philamis, in faith you are too wise to per­swade me, and I wise enough to repulse you: it is a principle in Phisike, y^t the knowledge of sicknes is to some men t [...]e oc­casion of death: therefore (gentle friend) complayne not of this loue sicknes, least in stead of bedding you, we bury you, & it were meere pittie, when so hot a Gentleman who will car­ry no coa [...]es, must bee borne like a coarse: possession they say is in loue the strongest point, I will therefore [...] my loue, though you demaund it: and I promise you w [...]en I meane next to learne huswifery, you shalbe the last that shall husband mee. In this scoffing [...] r left she Philamis, who seeing himselfe forsaken, and his friend forlorne, departed in such discontent to his lodging, that neyther imagining howe to consort or conuerse with Philamour, he cast him the reply of Harpaste, resoluing euer afterwards to shun the presence of so pestilent a mynion: and in this sort entering his chamber hee cast him on his bed, spending his time in such languish­ing lamentes, that the report thereof must needely mooue pittie.

Alas (he sayde) iniurious sexe, giuen ouer to subtiltie, who with the vayle of honest occasion couer the dishonestie of your spirits, I cannot lament your follyes so much, as be discon­tented with your falshood: you are plyant when you are not not pursued, and fawne when you are most flattered: Oh vi­perous brood full of vices, who in your greatest calmes lyke [Page] Dolphins threaten stormes: they like the Crab are crabbed, the one hauing a crooked walke, the other a cursed wit: they are as full of despights as the Ermine of spots: they are the foormes of sinne, aud the fiendes of Sathan: the gate of the Deuill, and the Serpentes venome: their beauties are lyke burning swords. But whither now Philamis? Shall men condenm them in their wickednes, when they are themselues wretched? What is man but a minde incarnate? a fantasie of time? a beholder of life? a manciple of death? a walker going? a dweller of place? a laborious mind subiect to passion, being as subiect to bee seduced, as women are sub [...]ill to seduce? Shall we blame the fire because it burneth vs? or our selues that thrust our fingers in the fire? The potion that poysoneth is not to be blamed, but he that presenteth it: and our defaults are not to be ascribed to them, but our owne follyes. Thy I­dlenes Philamis, I there is the nurse of this same, and the seale of thine incontinence: Studie is the preseruanue of such vnstaiednes, where the eye beholding good things is not besotted with euill, and the eare that harboureth science, is stopped to the Syren. Blame not them therefore who are the weaker creatures, but thy selfe which was so ill councelled. In this manner ceased Philamis to complayne, and beganne to contemplate, resoluing with himselfe wholly to intend the succour of h [...]s friend, and otherwise euery way to giue ouer fancie.

During this troubled estate wherein Philamis stormed, Claetia and her louer were buried and richly intombed, to the great sorrow of all the beholders. But leaue we these trage­dies, and returne we to Philamour, who seeing Philamis sodaine depart, began to suspect somewhat, and nowe chaun­ged he his colour, and straight wayes swelled in choller, ma­king much of the shadowe of griefe, before he knewe the sub­stance: but considering with himselfe that it is meere vanitie to [...], before there appeare some cause to conde [...]e, bee opened his letters, and sawe the cause of more lamente: and whylest hee canuased each sentence, and cons [...]rued eue­rie lyne, hee at last vnluckily behelde that doubt decyded, [Page] which he most [...], the loue of Harpaste towards Phi­lamis, and hereon grewe hee into desperate rage, suspecting doublenes in his friend, who detested all falshood, so that with out any opinion of excuse, he resolued to reuenge himself cru­elly: whereuppon apparelling himselfe, and taking his wea­pons, he sodainly knocked at Philamis chamber doore: who little suspecting hatred from him whome hee loued with his heart, was thus insolently assaulted.

Traytor as thou art, and riuall in my loue, who hast lear­ned of the Cretan to lye, of thy countrymen to dissemble: did I not measure my dishonour more than I make account of thy life, I would draw thy periured heart from thy panting brest, who since thou hast robd me of my Loue, canst no way satisfie my reuenge but by thy death. If thou therefore bee no crauen cocke, or hast desire to performe as thou canst prate, arme thy selfe and follow me, otherwise, wh [...]re euer I meete thee, Ile teach thee how to mocke mee: So saying (after hee had cast downe Harpastes letter) he sodainly flung out of the doores. Philamis greeued in soule to see this alteration, pretended a reply, but it would not bee [...]: whereuppon taking his weapons and gathering vp the letter, he perused it as he pas­sed on, where hee sawe Philamours mistaking was the onely breach of their amitie: notwithstanding stirred vp with his inciuilitie, and instigated with contempt, hee folowed his ene­mie: hoping by counsaile to digest his choller, or decide the dif­ference by combat. Thus parting both of them out of the Ci­tie, and walking along the bankes of Danubius, Philamis knowing with Menander that the enuious is enemy to him­selfe, in that his spirit combats continually in contrary passi­ons, hauing the greater iudgement, shewed the more modera­tion, and taking Philamour by th [...] [...], sought to perswade him: when hee altogether giuen ouer to his owne fury, more inraged than Celius the Senator of whome sully maketh mention (who being angry with one of his seruants and bond men, who was alwayes most [...]bseruant and dutifull, ful of dis­daine saide vnto him: why doest thou not contradict mee in some thing, because we may be enemies in all things?) drewe [Page] his sword, not suffering Philamis to shape defence, & woun­ding him to the death, fled with all expedition, vnscene & vn­perceiued, into the Cittie. Philamis in his fall declared his friendship, and in stead of wishing hi [...] preiudice, saide, I par­don thee Philamour. See here Gentlemen the effects of fu­rie, which is neither tempered with desert, nor extenuate by aduise: Enen as (saith Aristotle) the smoake offending the eyes, hindereth vs from seeing those things which are before our feet: so anger assailing the mind and iudgement, blemi­sheth reason. Naucrates a man of great wisdome, was wont to say, that the cholorike men resembled lampes, which the more oyle they haue, the more they are inflamed: for as the more the one gathers fire, the more the other groweth furi­ous. It is therfore wisdome to temper this violent passion of the mind, which in Caius Caesar had such superioritie, that he was incensed against a cittie, & in Cirus, that he waxed wroth with a riuer: least herein we shew our selues bruter thā beasts who are by nature taught to temper their fury, when they haue aslaked their hunger, following the lenitie of Antigo­nus, of whom Seneca maketh mention, who rather releeued than grieued his rebellious bondmen, pulling them out of the durt, not casting them in the dust. Oh how the very fury of A­lexander was a blemish to his fortune? and the [...] of Scilla a scarre in his victories. But let me heere by way of di­gression prosecute this purpose a little further (Gentlemen) for that now a dayes forbearance is accounted want of for­wardnes, and moderation, pusillanimitie: prescribing by your patience three remedies, wherby the impati [...]nt may [...], and the willing may be warned. The first is not to be angry: the second, to restraine the same: the third, to aduise coun [...]ail, and heale the furious infirmities of anger in other men: We shall not be angry if we consider all the errors of anger, and considering them, rightly iudge of them. Anger is first of all worse than all vices, where couetousnesse gathereth, [...] de­stroyeth: anger breedeth griefe in the father, diuorce to the husband, hate to the magistrate, repulse to him that reacheth at honour: It is worse than l [...]t, for that [...] his p [...] ­liar [Page] pleasure, this reioyceth in anothers harme, it is worse than malignitie and enuie, for they wish a man vnhappy, these make him vnfor: [...]ate. In briefe, he hath no noble mind, neither is magnanimous indeede, who is broken with in­iurie:

But to leaue this and prosecute our purpose, Philamis being in this sort falne, l [...]y long time amazed weltering in his bloud, and awaiting his death, when Clorius a shepheard, who kept the grange of Nicrosion, scituate neare at hande, secking out some stray lambes, at last bcheld this lamentable spectacle, when mooued by compassion, he with a bloud stone which he carried about him stopped y^e issue, applying such cō ­fortable salues that there was some hope of the Gentlemans succor: Philamis more deade with vnkindnes, than daunted with his wounds, s [...]king to shun the consort of all men, bee­ing demaunded what he was, shrowded his name, labouring by all means possible to recouer such a course of li [...], as might be free from the furie of fortune, or the inconstancy of frends. Wherupon remaining in Niciosions grange with old Clo­rius, till such time as his wounds were healed, hee wrought such priuye meanes by postes that he had some supplies out of his owne Countrye charging his deerest frendes to con­ceale the course of his safety, he sought out the mountaynes, [...]here buying through the assistance of Clorius a desolate and sweete seate on the top of a pleasant hill, compassed with a faire groue, hauing a sweet riuer murmering alongst it re­sembling Petrarchs seat neere Sorga, among the thickest of the mountaines of Stiria: hee betooke himselfe to his studie, earnestly intending naturall Magicke, wherein in short space he became so ski [...]full, that he not onely grewe famous in Au­stria, but through all Bohemia, where I will leaue him for a while, hauing recourse to Philamour: who entring his cham­ber vnsuspected, caused a rumor to be spread of Philamis so­dain depart out of Passan, seeming to take y^e vnkindnes hea­uily, where in sooth his soule groned actually to remember his vngratiousnes: he changed his youthful colors to ruthful dis­content, and in all [...]riumphs called himselfe the Knight of de­spaire, [Page] neuer may heart imagine what mone hee conceyued, if in priuate conference Philamis were named (in that hauing a fewe dayes after searched for him to giue him secret sepul­ture, he was sodainly carryed away) often when he was soli­tary, and had liberty to lament, he watering his wan cheekes with weeping moysture, began in this manner to expresse his complaints.

Woe is mee, whose anger is the beginning of my folly, & the fall of my fortune, who seeking my Philamis torture, haue tormented my selfe. Euen as the rust consumeth the I­ron, the moth the cloth, the worme the woode: So enuie the worst of all vices, and rage the direst of all furies, hath re [...]te me of my friend, hath ro [...]d me of my delights. Oh that with delight and my frend I might loose my life, too smal a plague for my ouer hasty peruersenesse. Oh furie the surfet of For­tune, that robbedst Alexander of his Clitus, Dionisius of his Plato, and mee of my Philamis. Oh beautie, thou deuou­rer of my delightes, and death the possessor of my pleasure, I would I had shunned the one, and slept with the other, or that my heart bloud might recouer his lost life: but why bewayle I his fatall losse, and forget my liuing torment. Thou louest (Philamour) but art lothed, oh fruitlesse comfort for faithfull seruice: Harpaste is too faire to bee dispraised, but thou too vnkind to be pittyed: Philamis dyed by thy rage, and disdai­nest thou to die by hir rigour? The Marcians liue amongst serpents in peace without stinging: the Phelii amongst vi­pers and not sti [...]d: oh fortunate they, who among the h [...]rs of nature find grace, where I among the glories o [...] nature die for gri [...]fe. In this sort passed Philamour his life, seeking all m [...]anes to conquer the loue of Harpaste, who after many repulses, at last being wearyed with s [...]tes, [...] him this pe [...]ce, that vnlesse hee could bring the body of [...] a­liue, and make Laite as bigge as Da [...]by for two dayes, hee shoulde neuer enioy her fauour, or bee enter [...]ned in her thoughtes. Philamour enioyned to these [...], thought it neuer p [...]ssible to enioy her fauour, [...] conquering his hard fortune with a [...], hoping [Page] that inundations might effect the one of hir requests, and for­tune present him with the other, hee set forwardes: in quest of which his purpose let me leaue him, to laugh with you faire la­dies, (or at least wise to lament the follyes of some fine fillie follies among you, who are like vipers in your [...]ings, and for all your ven [...]mes, you carry meanes to [...]ale mens harmes) and recount vnto you the storie of Eurimone, who during the presence of Philamis could pr [...] it, & in his absence repen­ted hir: for whether it were femeni [...] feare, or dissembled [...]f­fection, or some such folly or fancie, that haunteth that sweete kind of cattel, no sooner did she heare of Philamis departure, but (suspecting that hir coy answere had beene the occasion of his concealed depart) she sodainly [...]led the whole house with her fond complaints, renting hir haire, and beating hir brest, shewing such apparant signes of repent, that euery man pitti­ed hir pensiuenesse: in briefe, the [...] of her griefe was so great, and hir imperfections so many, hir body beeing weake, hir mind weaker, that sodainly she loft hir wits, conti­nually exclaiming on the name of Philamis, neither did the nobilitie of hir birth, nor the reprehensions of hir friends, nor ought els cause hir to forbeare, but hir onely thought was on Philamis. In this raging madnes continued she for the space of a whole yeare, at which time, after much penury, and many miseries, shee ended hir youthfull dayes, and being ri [...]hly in­tombed, was honored with this Epitaph.

Contrariwise Harpaste with more moderation; kept Philamis in remembrance, gouerning bir affections with such a raigne, that though inwardly she felt the wound, yet outwardly no one could perceiue the scar or showe of scath. Such gouernment had she ouer hir fancies, as Curio had in entertaining temporall fortunes, who being presented by the Samnits with great sums of gould, laughed hartely, retur­ning this constant answer. Go you embassadors and tell the Samnites that Curio desireth rather to rule them that haue possession of gould, then to haue gould: and that neither mo­ney shall corrupt me, nor dread of mine enemies confound me. So was Harpaste as Curio, moderate, but not with like meane: for as the one fancied not wealth, so the other was fond of loue: yet in that Harpaste being a woman cou­loured so well, she may be compared with Curio for constan­cie.

But leauing these in Passan, returne we to Philamour: many and emment daungers passed he, being subiect to the mercie of the seas, and furie of the wind: now vndertooke he trauell through vnknowne deserts, fearing leaft P [...]ilamis should liue there desolate, oft and many were his complaints exclaiming on Harpastes crueltie, so that sometime he in se­cret would crie out, vnkinde, but durst not name Harpaste, fearing the windes, and being ielious of Eccho, least the one by their vertue, the other by hir voyce, sh [...]uld accuse him to his co [...]e mistresse. Strange were it to rip vp his disconten­ted passions, for feare to mooue Ladies patience, who are ne­uer more sweeter then when they smile, and when they are mooued none more mournefull, resembling the qualitie of Euphrates, which is neuer more comelie then when it is calme: nor no wayes so terrible as when it is troubled, for as the one is tossed with the least winde: so is the other tempted [Page] by the least word. In short he arriued in Rauenna, making such inquisitiue search after his friend, that the most part who resolued on Philamis death, accused him of follie, and ente­ring his house, which was of no small accoumpt, he vsed the same ceremonie which the Indian Princes haue in theyr pillars, who honour the bodyes and pictures of theyr dead parents, for finding the portrature of Philamis drawne, han­ging at his bed chamber, he fell downe before it, making such pittiful lamentation, as neither th [...] teares of Niobe nor Mi­chaoes moane, may compare with the halfe of his melan­cholie.

Now imbraced he the shadowe like Pigmalions image, powring such store of teares ouer the sencelesse image, that if anye goddes of compassion had behelde him in that per­plexitie, assuredly his moane would haue mooued a soddaine miracle, there was no place wherein Philamis was [...] to disport wherein he sat not: and neuer parted he thence with­out sighing. But seeing no similitude of hope, or apparance of good hap to be found in that cittie, he speedily departed, seek­ing Italie ouer, and inquiring in euery Acadamy if happi­lye hee might heare of his friend, or els happily encounter him.

In some countries happily he met with many so named, who happy in tijeyr Christendome and name, were with such cere­monie intertained by him, as if he imagned by those friendly offices to inuite this absent Philamis to fauour him. But when in no Countrey, nor in no place, he could attayne anye certayne notice of his Philamis residence, hee returned into Austria, resoluing with himselfe to forsake the world, who­lye discharge him of worldlye hopes, and arme himselfe vnto the death.

For which cause without returning to Passan, he trauai­led vp towardes the Mountaines, by the verye same waye wherein hee had vnhappylye left the wounded body of his [...]: where coniecturing as [...] as hee could, the place of the Combate, and loathing the crueltie of fortune, and [...] the losse of his friend: he vnbridled his steede, [Page] and tooke of the Saddle, hanging them vp in a Pine tree [...] and with pitteous teares [...] out in this sort, he discharged the dombe creature.

Goe faithfull companion, and helpe of forlorne [...] ­mour, & [...] out thy pasture, thou hast Danuby to quenche thy thirst, and these medowes to yeelde thee meate, liue thou at libertie, though my lyfe bee los [...], but of [...] beast straye farre from societie, least [...] vnhappie sight [...]ee the cause of my speedye search: And when the [...] with nimble footing fled out of sight, hee thus followed his discourse.

Happy art thou in flight, that maist not behold my fall: and now Fortune spit thy venome, spight at [...], execute the wyll of [...], and crucifie poore Philamour: [...] thou blinde wanton, all thy detriments are well [...], ney­ther wyll I flye the stripe, though I dye by the [...]. And thou insaciate Venus, behoulde I forsake Societie, and since thy followers are so frowarde, I wyll contemplate on them in my discontentes, and dye for them in these de­sarts.

By this time the syluer Tapers of the night, ouer spred the heauenly circumference, and [...] in [...] Coatch, gan smile on all the attendants of the night. when Philamour wearyed with toyle, and attainted with [...], entered a cloase [...], and in the mydst of his meditations fell a sleepe.

No sooner did the daye beginne to discouer, but cer­tayne Robbers who were [...] to [...] those woodes, espying Philamour brauelye appoynted, ganne [...] assayle him. The young [...] d. [...] nothing but death, was glad of this occasion: and betaking himselfe to hys weapons, he tought so desperatelye that [...] slewe three of them, but beeing at last ouer come [...] the [...] of assailants, hee fainted and fell soddainly, hauing manye dangerous gashes in most parte of his bodye. [...] deeming the conquest woon, and their [...], [Page] [...] of coate [...] [...]ls, leaning him no furniture, [...] taking with them each [...] that could [...] found, they left Philamour weltring in his [...], who lifting vp his heauie eyes, being somewhat awaked from a long sound, and seeing the place all to bee de [...]d in his blo [...]d, tombled himselfe as neere as possibly he could imagine, in that his feete fayled him to the place where [...] left his wounded Philamis, when drawing as many [...] from his eyes, [...] there issued drops of bloud from his woun [...]es, with fee [...] voyce he thus con­cluded his tragedie.

You are pittifull, ye heauens saide he, who enuie me not to die; who in life time was continually indangered by dis­dame, now shall I incounter him whom I slew with crueltie, and content hir who delighteth in my daungers, but oh thou cruell, be thou now pacified, for my dayes are expyred: and gentle ghoste (if Philamis ghost haunt this desert) let vs be at vnion and embrace: eccho at this word, seeing as though she could not content hit selfe without speaking, returned the last word embrace, which gaue such heart to Philamour that fainting through losse of bloud, he closed his armes, as of yeelding consent, and waighted for death with willing con­stancte: but fortune who after she hath tripped vp the heele, houldeth vp by the hand, and cast downe to the depth, lifteth vp to dignitie, altered his expectation, and preuented his death: for Clorius the good shepheard and guide of ould Nicrosians grange, who was continuasly accustomed to o­uerpasse those groundes, had by fortune that day good occa­sion to search the groue, in that he had lost a Kid: who fol­lowing his narrowe sea [...]ch, encountered this dying bodye, sprawling and weltring in his owne bloud: and being moo­ned with fatherly compassion, he staunched the same, and bound vp the woundes: bearing gasping Philamour on his backe to the grange which was neere at hand, where laying him in a warme bed and giuing him wholsome brothes, hee restored him: in such sort (continually plying his woundes with the balme and sweete medecines hee most vsed) that Philamour recouered hope of life, and began oft times to [Page] walke, but so disconted euery way, as bett [...]r had it beene for him to haue perished, then to haue endured such perplexiti [...]: often times did Cloreus enquire his name, but he would not confesse, he onely tould him this: that he was a Gentleman, who trauailing the countrie was assayl [...]d by theeu [...]s, and robbed of his substance, for the rest hee craued pardon, ter­ming himselfe the Unfortunate and Unworthie, and hauing borrowed some poore clothes of the ould man, he offered to leaue him, promising within two monthes to make him that recompence, as both should show his nobilitie, and requite the others good nature. Cloreus at such ti [...]e as he tooke him vp, found a Jewell of great valew (being s [...]auen Dia­monds set in gould, after the manner of a heart) fast tyed vn­der his right arme, which for want of search scaped the su [...] of the robbers, yet had they stripped him into his shirt, which Jewell (when he sawe Philamour would needes part from him) he freendly presented him with: which being a guift be­stowed on him in times past by Philamis, Philamour recei­ued with such ioy, as vpon Cloreus earnest intreate he re­solued for that day to spend the time with him (for that was the sheapheards holydaye in that countrie) great was the glee among the pastorall troopes of Shepheards, and Clo­rius as an auncient, was a chiefe at the feast, the ther came euery louer in his best sheeyes Russet, wearing stathe greene laces on their strawne hattes, with a great Nosgaye before like the fether of a forehorse: gartered they were vnder the knee, vpon theyr cloth stocks, some white, some gree [...]e, s [...] partie couleured, with great Cruell garters of Val [...], and happie was hee that could crossegd leane most lobb [...]rlie (louingly I should say) on his staffe, and cast a she [...]pes eye on his sweete heart, the young frie of the foulde, the p [...] maides, s [...]d it maruailouslie, and Sib would [...] the bag pipe play naught but heigh ho, my heart is gon [...], so [...] she was stoong with a nettle or needle, or some such weap [...]n, about the wast with a wan [...]ion. It greeueth me to ty [...] [...] with the countrey layes, or trouble your eares [...]h [...] loues, who hauing tasted of [...], are to lil [...] to [Page] [...] peneiue. [...] the rest, a mountaine [...] Ce­lio, a [...] of [...] capacitie, though a [...] of the countr [...], sat [...]rest our des [...]late Philamour: and seeing [...]o [...] to [...], enquired of Cloreus what cause he h [...] of [...], [...] into those desarts, with all other circum [...]ces, who [...]ing the [...] mans imperfec­ti [...]ns who was deaffe: resolued him in a lowde voice, which was the occasion that Philamour blushed, on whom Celio flxed his eyes with great seueritie, and at last, after hee had made a learned c [...]cture, he began (foreseeing where Phi­laniours shoo wrong him) to boord him in this manner.

Sir if a swaine may be bould to discourse with a Sig [...]r, and an old man reason with his young maister, may it please you to suffer me to enquire your cause of care, who in our publike mir [...]h are so pensi [...]e and melancholie. I haue read good si [...] of diuers, who sought their quiet in the citties, yet haue found it in the deserts: where although there be no ritch coates, yet may you meet reasonable good counsailers. I know sir you are learned, and your education hath beene courtly, so that it cannot be but you haue read Ariosto (a dis­course fit for dainty cares) and there shall you find, that Me­dor in the des [...]rts found no small cause of mirth. Besides Tassoes Frminia finding no faf [...]tie in court, was succoured in a cot. Tully was quiet in his Tusculano, but troubled in Roome, he are the peace; & heare the pleasure: if therfore we may merit such grace to know your grief, let an old mā hear it, who among al the trials of this world can coniccture som­what of the [...]ranies of a woman. It was no need to bid Phi­lamour [...]sh, for he was soūdly bitten, & though he had vsed no speech, his griefs had been discouered by his sighes; not­withstanding to couer his imperfections as much as he could he replyed in this maner (straning his voyce on high, that Ce­lio might better heare him.) Father (said he) though the Ea­gles fether pr [...]uaile against thunder, & the leaues of the Lam­rell [Page] preserue from lightning, though the Ostrich skin driue out ache, yet there are some woundes that ad [...] no weale, some diseases that are desperate: among which sort since mine is vnrecurable, I greeue to discouer it, knowing this, that all the Eloborus of Anticira, al the drugs, of India, all the gold in Ganges, cannot purge one dram of my melancholy, pacifie one fit of my feuor, nor buy me one ownce of content? what then profite th it you to heare that which you cannot helpe? or me to tell y^t which makes me tremble to thinke it. Celio that had already winded him, in this maner ceased not to worke on him. When Venus (good sit) was wounded with Cupids venome, she found a [...]ecipe in his quiuer: there is no sore but may be salued, no dead flesh which Sublimatum sercheth not, no body poisned in Sydmis, but may be cared by Philips po­tion: yea the heauens are so fauourable in all casualties, that the Coural comforteth against Epilesia, & Alexanders visiō betokeneth the care that God hath ouer euery creature, who in his victorie against the Brachmani, finding no remedie to to cure his soldiers, who were wounded by the Indian poisned weapons: nor to cure Ptolomeus his deere page, whilst full of care he tooke rest in his pauilion, he beheld this strange vi­sion. Him thought he saw a great Dragon houering ouer his head, which caryed a hearbe in his throate, which taught him the vertue of the same hearbe, & the place likewise where it grew, and he awaking, went and found the herbe, saued Pto­lomey, and releiued his souldiers: the examples are innume­rable in this cause: but vouchsafe me the hearing of a history, which though it hee short wil yeeld you some solace. There dwelled heere in these deserts, more neerly bounding yonder mountains, a yong shepheard called Calimander, who fel in­amoured with a yong nimph of this countrie named Ruthe­nia, many countrey curtesies vsed he towards hir, showing such signes of obseruance & duty, as had coy Amarillis bin so courted, she had long since bin cōtracted with Coridon, but she vain maid, being more faire then fortunat: & more precise then pritty, conceiuing pleasure in Calimanders sufferance, like y^e peacock, gasing, onely on her faire plumes, not her foule feete: supposing what shee was, not what she might be: at [Page] such time as with great deuotion the Sheapheard sought her fauour, she to trye his constancie, or els to deferre him from further fancie, enioyned him this impossible matter, to endure a seauen yeares penance in the woods of Saracon, without tasting anye sustenance but rootes, to swim ouer Laite sea­uen dayes euery one of these winters in these seauen yeares: and lastly to change all hir younge Lambes to lustie Heigh­fors. Calimander (coniecturing hir cruelty by these impossi­bilities) desisted not to accomplish hir desires, enduring all this seauen yeares penance with such peremptorie resoluti­on, that all the whole countrey Swaines pittyed him, and exclaimed on Ruthenias crueltie, but as time maketh the stiffe Oke wante pith: the proude steede a poore Iade, the lustie yoong man a thr [...]e footed ould man, so after long inde­uour, and more daunger, Calimander was fortunate in per­secuting the two least of hir commaunds, but dispaired on the last: where vpon comming with sorrie sheapheards about the mountaines, and hearing of one Climachus a cunning man, who hath forsaken the worlde to follow his studdies, hee imparted his cause of trouble to this scholer, and reported the whole circumstance of Ruthenias tyranny: who being natu­rally borne to vertue, and in that he was vertuous; was incli­ned to pitty: sought ouer his bookes to worke the shepheards benefite, and as science would and his skill sorted out, on the next day when Ruthenia should driue foorth hir lambes, she found Heyfers. Calimander assured by Climachus, and confirmed by the assurance of his friends, gaue thankes to the scholler, approoued his vowes to be accomplished, and Ru­thenia had hir will, and these warres ended in a wedding, and as the poet sayth so say I sir:

By that time the table was taken vp, the tale was doone, when Philamis impatient of delay (after he had giuen a sol­lemne [...] for his intertaine) desired to talke a parte with oulde [...], where discoueryng euery sorrow of his se­cret, he besought him in waye of friendshippe, to certy­fye him of Climachus a [...]ode: (this Climachus was his [Page] frendly Philamis, [...] (as you ha [...]e heard) [...] y^• world, had taken himselfe to this Cell, where [...] [...] ­heards and gote-heards for recreation sake, and applying his studie for to attaine knowledge, hee became so excellent, that he seemed rather framed to learning, than to loue: to match­lesse knowledge, than to [...].) Celio, as courteous as wise, quickly satisfied his request, not onely offering himselfe as companion, but as guyde in his iourney, whereon Phila­mour gathered heart, parting from the company with such a pleasant looke, that each man esteemed Celio a good sur­geon, who could heale his patient of such a passion so [...] ­ly. Clorius was iocund to see him reioyce: in briefe, euery one departed from the feast to their foulds, whilest Philamour and Celio followed their way.

At [...] the mountaines which discouered themselues a far off, presented themselues more neare. Laite was heard how along hir pleasant banks shee prettily murmured, and nowe beheld Celio the solitary [...] of Climachus, [...] by age more meet to take rest than to indure toyle, was glad to behold the end of his ra [...]e, and the end of both their trauels: oftentimes by the way discoursed they of diuers accedentes, and deluded the time with words, least they should haue beene tyred with theyr walks. Celio drawing neare his owne cot­tage, commended Philamour to good fortune, pomting to the toppe of the hill, and speaking to Philamour after this manner.

You know my Courtly friend (said he) that in the [...] ­pian games the wrastlers suffered [...] b [...]fore they tasted the sweet: and Alexander seeking out the Temple of lupi­ter was inforced to trauaile through deserts, ere he [...] his desires: so then though thou hast [...] payne, [...] the pleasure, and hast thee to the toppe of yond [...] where thou shalt meete with [...], and [...] th [...] [...]: for my selfe, were not my [...] weake, I [...] thee. But since I knowe the onely n [...]me of [...] is able to coniure the scholler, vse it, commend me [...] him out [...] a [...] ­sured of successe, and so far [...]wel. Whereupon [...] [Page] ous conge he entered his cottage.

Philamour that saw but [...]opes picture, not her person, deferred no ti [...]e, but tooke a thankfull leaue, and about the [...]. in of the Euening atta [...]ned the toppe of the moun­tayne. Now heard hee the falling streames of Laite which in theyr rushing made him remember Harpastes rigour: [...]owe behelde he the solitary Cell, and with admiration cryed out: [...] place of content, the very Court of my Paradise, where lyueth my ioy, and the sage of science. Euery way as he cast his eyes, he beheld fayre meades, sweete shades, and liuing fountaines: so that him seemed that Passan was a prison to this solitary place. At last he beheld entering through a thick groue a m [...] of try [...]e proportion, attyred in homely russet: his hayre was scattered ou [...]r his shoulders, & beard vnkempt or vncut, after the maner of [...]hat retchles Philosopher, whom Seneca describeth in his booke De vita beata, who [...] sooner espyed Philamour, but chaunged his purpose, and sodamly encountred him. But he that had behelde this meeting, might shew matchlesse admiration: For as Cleopatra in hit waine stood am [...]zed to see her Anthony weeping: and Artheme­sus seeing M [...]usolus sacke did [...]rfet in sorrowe. So fared it with these two couple, but with the o [...]e more forcibly: for Philamis knewe Philamour, but he knewe not Philamis. After long admiration, a secrete opinion entered the heart of Philamour, him thought this solitary man shoulde bee no straunger, and in looking on th [...] H [...]rmit, he was so distraught with passion, that he had no li [...]erty to speak [...]. But Philamis more stayed, in whom Philosophie had wrought an [...]quabilitie of mind, forgetting all iniuries, began to [...] for compa­ny, and breaking off the m [...]ditation that detained Philamour he began thus.

Si [...] what seeke you? if succour for your griefe, drye vp your teares: I knowe what you [...]re Philamour, a G [...]ntle­man of Passan, you loue H [...]rpaste, she is too cruell, I know your penance, and weigh each possibility: you come from Ce­lio, and you seeke my helpe, is not all this true Gentleman? Philamonr standing like a statue of stone, as if lately trans­formed [Page] with Medusa, began to admire, and casting him at the seete of Climachus his approoued Philamis, he imbra­ced his knees, weeping such store of teares, as was pittifull to behold: Now came into his minde the vnkind crueltie to­wards his friend, and the thought therof was so forcible, that neuer looked Hecuba more ruthfull in the losse of her Poli­doce, than Philamour did in thinking on his Philamis. The wise Rauennois knowing both the cause of his griefe, and his hearty repentaunce, as hauing fore seene them long be­fore in his pryuate intellectuall science, comforted him in this sort.

Arise Philamour, there was neuer so great an offence a­mong friends but will haue a pardon: thy Philamis lyueth, and hath forgiuen thee: vertue in him hath ouercome all thy disgraces, neyther canst thou bee so vnkinde as hee is wylling to pardon. The infirmities of youth (yoong G [...]ntleman) are many, and hatred once sprung, is more great amongst friends than forrayners. Come enter my hermitage and re­pose you: you shall haue time to weepe lesse shortly, when you haue attayned your wish.

Philamour, as if before the Oracle of Delphos, or hauyng receyued a curtesie from Sibilla o [...] Cuma, with humble reue­rence returned this answere.

Good sir, and reuerend Scholler, could I expresse what I imagine, or define my ioy, as I deuine your iudgement, I would in good wordes witnesse my great thankes. Sooth it is, I am miserable Philamour, the abi [...]ct of fortune, the ob­iect of Harpastes crueltie: Tis I (O my seule thou kno [...]st I sorrow it) that haue iniured my friend, wounded my friend, and lost my fr [...]nd: whome might I see, to breath out my re­pentance in his bosome, to sigh at mine owne shame, to finde that with my heart bl [...]ud, which I haue defaulted in by my hairebrayne heedlessenes, I were satisfied in soule, and [...] should see I was sorrowfull.

Philamis not able to indure any longer, to see the yo [...]g Gentleman so p [...]nsiue and passionate, cutte off his continued discourse with this short answere.

[Page] Philamour greeue no more, euen for Philamis sake art thou welcome: I imbrace thee as if I were himselfe, and wil loue no lesse than Philamis. Cast off therefore this dis [...]on­ted heauines, and frolike it in this solitary seat: for if thou ca­rie beleefe, which is a helpe at maw, as the Phisition sayth to such as wil be cured: assure thy selfe the day is thine, and the daunger is past. Hereupon taking Philamour by the hand, this disguised Climachus brought him into his solitary Cel, where from a faire windowe he shewed him all the vallyes, & smilingly beholding Laite, said thus: Heere is some of your pennance [...], Laite must be beholding to you for an ouerflow: I beleeue Harpaste knew she should driue you hither, she in­ioyned you so happily. Philamour sighed to heare her na­med, but see a wonder, Philamis altered this sorrow: for ta­king a booke in hand, and turning towards the East, there so­dainly fel a thunder-clappe, the heauens were disturbed, and the waters came down with such vehemencie from the moun­taines, that Laite sadainly of a little Riuer, began to exceed Danuby. [...]eere might you see the poore shepheards, leading theyr flocks to the higher places, and the [...] that fled in the plaines were driuen into the mountaines: many streetes in Passan were troubled with thi [...] inundation, and Harpaste hearing of these waters, with blushing modesty diuined in hir heart, that she must shortly haue a husband.

All this while Philamour lay looking of the window, wee­ping for ioy, and oftentimes imbraced he the barre of the win­dow, as if it had beene the dead body of his Harpaste: till so­dainly Philamis smiling made him surfet at another wonder: for enioyning him by no meanes to mooue at whatsoeuer hee sawe, he caused him to sit downe by him, when sodainly there entered two in rich attire, resembling Harpaste and Phila­mis, the one proffering him kindnesse, the other courting him with amiable lookes: good Lord howe faine would Phila­mour haue moued? But feare with-held him, and care of his friends content, yet kneeled hee to Philamis, crying o [...]t in great agony: Ah deare friend, I haue offended. But to draw him from this passion, Philamis practised an other secret: for [Page] dainly they vanished, when as hee sawe in a mirrour which stood opposite against him the whole course of his trauels, his daungers, Clorius comfort, and Celios friendly trauel with him: whereon while hee meditated, him thought the Tables were spread with great delicates, the musicke and melodie reuiued his spirites, the Eunuches serued him in bowles of Saphir, and his entertainment was so sumptuous, that al­though hee had a good stomacke to his meate, yet fedde [...]ee onely on admyration, tyll Philamis cheared him after this manner.

Behold (said he) Gentleman, the one halfe of your danger past, Laite is increased, your Philamis is liuing, Harpaste will be kinde, now [...]all to feed and welcome: assure your selfe that hee who found out your friend, will bring him you, eate therefore and reioyce, yoong men must not fast which are to­wards marriage.

Philamour inuited thus kindly, fell to his victuals wel fa­uoredly, and both of them tooke the repast more pleasantly, in that the one beheld, and the other hoped to see his friend. At last the tables were taken vp, the attendants vanished, and the night beeing farre spent, Climachus conueyed his Phila­mour into a sumptuous chamber, where he was entertained with such delicates, musicke, and delightes, as the lyke was neuerimagined by Cleopatra for her Anthony. In briefe, after long discourse, and Philamours many vowes, his secret sighes, his repentant hearts griefe, his humble suite to see Philamis, his prayers to enioy Harpaste, the graue scholler left him fully resolued, promising him the next day so to fur­ther his desires, that he should not onely enioy her whom hee sought, but see him whome hee wished for: and thus with a friendly Adios he left him to his rest.

No so [...]ner did the fayre morrow with blushing beautie in­cite the sun to enter his chariot, & golden Phoebus with ra­diant beauties guilded the mountaine toppes with his fiery beames, but Philamis arose: & now gan the sparke of affec­tion long smothered in cinders to discouer it self, the coles be­came quicke fire, & Philamis forgetting all [...] defaults, [Page] began to reuiue the image of his Philamour, which absence and vnkindne [...] had defaced in his heart: so that hee resolued sodainly to seeke his discouery. For [...]s many [...] show­ers, and infinite liuing springs, as the force of many mediter­ranean fountaine, and the furie of raging riuers, alter not the saltnes of the sea: Soneyther destruction of bodyes, altera­tion of place, or any casualtie of vnkindnes, can chaunge hys affections in whom perfect amitie is placed: whereupon at­tyring himselfe after his courtly manner, trimming his locks and [...]eard after their accustomed beauty, he prouided althings necessary for the iourney, causing a seruant to present Phila­mour with rich ra [...]nents, and all other necessaries, who new­ly awaked, wondered very much at this stra [...]ngers curtesie, and the rather in that whatsoeuer was sent him, the messen­ger was wont to say that Philamis presented it. At last when Philamis had ordered all things by his Art, and prouided hor­ses for their iourney, he sodainly entered the chamber of Phi­lamour: who beholding the olde countenance, and auncient courtly habite of his friend was rauished with ioy, and falling downe before the feete of Philamis, he thus expostulated.

Ah deare friend Philamis, what ayre hath diuided our bo­dies? or country hath detained my [...]riend? whom I haue in­iuriously wronged, and cannot but vnworthily speake vnto. Ah gentle heart, thou mirrour of vertue, my soules peace, my minds content, my court [...]ous Philamis: beholde my teares the testimonies of my sorrowes, and accept my vowes the to­kens of my true deuotion, who repent my rashnesse, and if I may merit reconcilement, promise such affectionate loue, as neyther time, nor the tyronny of fortune, neyther many daun­gers, nor mortall detriment shall euer alter.

Philamis not able to indure further delayes, casting his armes about the necke of his Philamour, began thus.

My deare friend, though Venus had a moule, it was no mayme: and Alexander a scarre, it was no s [...]ath: Ciceroes wen was no disgrace: and Philips crooked lymme lamed not his fortune. The Rose is not to be contemned for one canker: the Cambricke, for one staine: the sworde for one flawe: the [Page] silke for one fret: neither all friends to be forsaken for one fal­ling out. Alpheus being fresh, cannot alter the sweet water of Arethusa: neither is Mithridates poysoned with one po­tion: we esteeme our cloth by the wearing, as wel as the wool: our wines by the tast, as wel as the col [...]ur: & our friends as well in theyr faults, as in theyr fauours. The [...] that haue fairest glosse, soonest loose theyr glory: [...] mindes are soonest mooued: Though the Taylers goose [...] the fin­ger, it smootheth the hemme: though the Diers [...] wea­ken his arme, it washeth the cleth: though vnkindnes fall a­mong friends, yet kindleth it affection. Wherefore content thee my Philamour, the wrong is remitted: behold nowe no more disguised Philamour, but thy deare Philamis: beholde the wound I receyued, and assure thee the wrong is forgiuen: being left by thee, Clorius releeued me, who saued thy life, su­stained mee in necessities, since when I haue heere lyued in studie in this solitary plac [...], reserued to do thee good, who hast long be galled with griefe: Come therefore and haste thee, our horses are in readinesse, and I will ryde with thee, assu­ring my Philamour, that eare night Harpaste will she we some curtesie.

It is vnspeakeable to declare the many cour [...]ngs, the of­ten courtiags the kinde pleas, the courteous replies, which past [...] Philamis and Philamour. But to be short, they broke theyr fast and mounted on theyr horses, beguyling the weary [...]ourney with kinde wordes. No sooner were they en­tred the Cittie, which was about noone stead, but the rumor was sodai [...]ly spread of theyr arryuall: each one reioyced to behold Philamis, who hering of the death of [...], s [...] ­lingly sayd thus. Qualis vita, [...] it a:

Amongst the rest Nicrosion beeing a Gentleman of no­ble nature, hearing of t [...]s good happe, the vnyon of friends, and theyr happye retourne, as one alwayes delighted to entertayne straungers, inuyted Phil [...]is and his fri [...]nd to Supper, making a royall [...] to manie rich [...] to the ende to receyue them with more honour. Amo [...]st the test, I doubt not but you thynke this (Ladyes) that [...] [Page] [...] in his loue: but when she thought on the [...] of [...] alas she said, hath not Philamour des [...]rued my loue hee [...] of noble byrth, ofliber all nature, a [...] well [...], and my professed seruant.

Thus as the Diamond which [...] not the [...], but is mollyfyed in vineger, like the h [...]lme which [...] the [...] but is cut with the bone, her affections began to y [...]ld: and after some deliberation resolued on his lout. In [...] louely contemplations passed she the time till supper drew on, when sodainly Philamis & Philamour as inuited [...] the house of Nicrosion, who with great humanity and [...] curtesie entertained them both: neyther was there any ci­tizen who seemed not highly contented to beholde the [...] of this friendly couple. Amongst the rest fayre [...], with blushing modeslie demeaned her selfe so [...] as both caused Philamis to reioyce, and Philamour to [...] who assisted by the aduise of Philamis, whilest the [...] was making ready, tooke Harpaste apart, and with a tremb­ling tongue and troubled countenance courted her after this manner.

Madame, if faithfull thraldome deserue fauourable accep­tance, and harde aduentures happy auailes: I doubt not but your heart will bee accompanied with fauour, as mine hath beene occupied in for wardnes: and since I haue effected your demaunds, you will not neglect my loue. Behold my vowes performed, and your requests accomplished: See Laite with raging waters raunging through the vallyes, seeming rather a huge Sea, than a little Riuer: beholde my Philamis aliue, whom you supposed dead, whom Ipresent as apresent to in­treate you to take pittie.

Here with Philamis, who still had an eye that way, drewe neare vnto them, and willing to make vp the contract, brake off Philamours discourse, & began thus. These were strange [...]owes Harpaste, which shew your strictnes to reuiue y^e dead, & commaund the waters, which shew you are a right woman [Page] in your will, who can step ouer, where you will not [...]umble, and commaund impossibilitie when you will not be plyant: but Philamours vertue hath preuented your follie, and [...] reason, since you haue caused him to make Laite rise, you must now content him with a kinde fall. A cypher by it selfe is nothing [...] but ioyned to one maketh ten: there m [...]st be a bond where there hath beene a breache, and kindnes owed where crueltie hath beene showed: rewarde therefore your true seruant good Ladie for my sake, who hath endured so much in pursuite of your demaundes, that it would pittye you to feare, and it perplexeth mee to reporte. Harpaste mooued with these reasons: like the Marbell tamed with manye stroakes: the gould tryed with whote fire, the steele formed by many heats, at last relented: and behoulding Philamour with a kinde looke, and taking Philamis by the hande, retur­ned them both this short and sweet aunswer.

Things attained with long labour (Gentlemen) at the last breede most delight, and when the tryall is past, the truthe is more accepted: since therefore Philamour hath endured, I will rewarde his dutie: and for your sake Philamis vouch­safe him such kindnesse, as my honour regarded, and my fa­thers consent procured, I rest his in all loue, and yours to commaund, who haue trauailed for him as his friend, and I shall ere long see him the Lorde of my fauours. Philamis was not a little iocund to see this end: nor Philamour sol­emne to heare this sentence: to be short, after the feast was finished, and the guests readye to rise, by the consent of both parties, Philamis brake the matter to Nicrosion: who knowing Philamours birth, bringing vp, and great riches, heartily condiscended: Wherevpon in the assemblye of the Nobles they were both bethrothed, and happily in short space marryed: at which solemnitie Caelio was a bidden guest, and Clorius was highly entertained, and for his many curt [...]sies made Lord of the grange, vpon the friendly request of Phila­mis. Long time in great ioy liued these louers, entertayning Philamis in harty affection, who wholy delighted in his soli­tarie life, and contemning the vanities of the world, hauing [Page] regard to the well ending of his lyfe, and the intending of his study, with harty affection tooke his leaue of his Philamon [...]: the one desired the other to continue companie: yet Phila­mour must not leaue his newe wife, neither will Philamis be drawne [...] contemplation: in briefe, after many promi­ses of continuall intercourse by letters, they tooke their friendly farewell: onlie Philamis in that he knew his friend was too much besotted with the worlde, and might forget himselfe soonest through securitie, to [...] the [...] enormities of his life, he left him in his studye this graue admonition, which he termed The deafe mans dialogue, which I haue heere vn­der inserted, and leaue vnto your censure.

GOd morow father, & wel met.

Sir if you like the Kid lay downe the price, it is fat and tidie, hauing tasted the sweet waters of Danuby, & the wholsome her­bage of Austria.

Why I salute thee Celio, but cheapen not thy kid?

Oh sir that which I wil take at your [...] shalbe but half the worth, halfe a Bohemian crowne or no money.

I beleeue be [...], I will speake lowder: [...] Celio I come not to cheapen thy Kids, but to haue thy company, for eld hauing many e­uels hath much experience, hearst thou me, or art thou deaffe?

I heare you and yet am deaffe: deaffe if you talke as you did first, quick of hearing if you speake hie, as you did last, pardon me good Philamis in my imperfection, it is not of will that I offend, but by reason of [...]: if therfore thou [...] keepe thy last key in speaking out, sit thou neere me and pertake my shade, and preferre what question thou list, and I will [...] thee.

I would I had Stentors voyce for [Page] thee Celio, truly I should then need no strayning, but so as [...] I may; and so long as you list, I wyll [...]rye out my words be­fore I loose this company.

I but there is a meane in all things Maister, a difference betwixt staring and starke mad: speake therefore so as you may not hurt your selfe, and I may heare you what newes?

Heare is a vaine world Celio.

Thou tellest me no newes Philamis, neyther may we mend it till God end it, I aske no tydings of it but of thee: howe thou spendest the daye heere in these mountaynes? what are thy studdies? what thy methode?

I studdy the Mathematiques.

Thy stud­die is then superficiall, In alieno aedificat Mathematica, it borroweth his principles from an other; by meanes where of it attaineth to matters of higher perfection, if by it selfe it comprehended truth, & [...] to attaine the same, if by it selfe it could decide and manifest the nature of the whole world, it would profit our mindes, & help our memories: but in that it doth not so, doate not on it so.

I wonder Celio you dispraise that so generaly, which is so perfect in his parts. I haue red Aristotle, who in his Elenchs saith, that they who are vnredy in number, are vncapable of the secrets of nature: beside Augustine a catholique doctor concludeth this. Nemo (saith he) ad diuinarum [...] rerum cognitionem accedat, insiprius artem numerandi discat. If therefore A­rithmatique being but the entrance to the Mathematiques be so beneficiall, what shall we thinke of the rest, but as of things exceeding singular.

I condemne them not as unnecessa­ry, but would teach and traine thee in studies more necessary: numeration teacheth thee howe to count thy sheepe, but not how to amend thy sinnes. Arithmatique schooleth thee to ap­ply thy fingers to auarice, but I would haue thee instructed how to draw thy mind from couetousnes: the candle is a faire light till thou behouldest the sun, and these [...] blocks of wit are sweets, till thou perfectly see wisdom.

What thinke you of Geometry.

Geometry lerneth thee how to mesure thy fields, but not maister thy fancies: what profiteth thee to know an [...] of land, & not the anchor of life? [Page] It teacheth thee how to obserue the [...]tting of thy la [...]s: but how much better were it for thee to learne howe thou migh­test willing loose them? It instructeth thee to knowe the round from the square, the distances of the Planets: but broughtest thou thy minde in proportion were it not better? Alexander of Macedon began to learne this Science to his sorow: for finding by dimension how little the world was, and how small a part he possessed, he found himselfe great in too little. I tell thee Philamis, had Philips sonne sought out true science, as he studdied this silly secret, he had seemed greater to himselfe in contemning the world, then in conque­ring it.

What thinke you of Musick.

It is the darling of lost time: it teacheth thee to know sharpe and flat, high and lowe, Diapente and Diapason: but could it teach thee consonance of the minde, and constancie in counsailes, this were better Musick, this instructeth thee in vnitie, but maketh thee not as one. I haue reade that Zenophantus Harpe could mooue affections, but neuer maister them: these are trifles that aske much toyle and yeelde little treasure.

What thinke you of Astrologie?

The kaye of presumption is Astrologie, where men ascribe to the opositi­on of Planets the cause of alterations, which are onely to be applyed to Gods prouidence, who is he that dare claime the knowledge of things to come, vnlesse he haue the seale of a Prophet? these are vaine things young Philamis, and lets in our way, which hinder vs from the attainment of true bles­sednesse. Beware therfore, and bind not thy selfe to the things thou knowest not: but learne thou to seeke out such things as thou shouldst know.

And what are they?

Not trifling Philosophie, but true: learne to know thy selfe how weake thou art: learne to know thy life how wretched: learne to know thy death how certaine: thou shalt then finde, that al things in this earth are the fruites of error: that heauen is the hauen of felicitie, death the harbour of worldlye miserye.

And what is death?

The law of nature, the tri­bute of the flesh, the remedy of euils, the path eyther to hea­uenly felicity or eternall miserie.

Howe is the fruite [Page] thereof knowne.

By the in [...]rmities of life.

Why is it possible that lyfe should be in [...]rine, which may attaine the title of blessednes? or may it be thought there is hea [...]nes therein, wherein men haue liued so happily? had not Caesar liued where had his fame been, which in the epicures opinion being spēt in delight, cōtaineth true felicity.

He had need be an epicure that so speaketh, y^t only councelleth himselfe by his sence not by science: he hath a fleshly vnderstanding, which as Paul saith is the enemie of the spirit. I will tell thee what life is, and thereby showe thee the commodities of death: lyfe is a pilgrimage Philamis, a shadow of ioy, a glasse of infyr­mitie, the pathway to death, wherein whilst we trauaile, the most of vs loose tyme, but preuent it not, aud as s [...]raungers from our infancie, by many pathes we trauell to one end, by many functions to one fate, yet is there no estate so certaine in lyfe, no stay so steddy, that complayneth not his wantes ere he come vnto his waine, begin in degrees, what thinkest thou of princes liues?

I deeme thē hapy, so they be vertuous.

Thine exception then sheweth they may default, and in that they may want, see thou that there is no worldly felici­tie, true felicity. Saye princes grow great, they feare the vn­gratious, if vertuous, they are odious to the wicked: if tem­perate, they escape not contempt: say zealous, they are held seuere: if they winke at faults they are thought retchlesse: in breefe, if they borrowe theyr happines from life, which lyes in the estimate of worldly eye, they are onely wretched in be­ing happy in worldly iudgement. Dionisius a tyrant let him speake, there is no princely happynes sayth hee, but in death.

What deemest thou of nobilitie?

As of the [...]nowes of the body, they are the linkes of the state, yet haue they flat­terers to seduce them, ambition to depriue them, desires is corrupt them, in breefe they do dayly but begin to liue, in that they feare to dye

What of Lawyers?

They are miserable, for they get with care, they thriue by contention, they are all in the quantity not in qualitie, you know the pre­dicaments Philamis, I may not preach further, they are good members of a weake bodye, who if they spend as much [Page] s [...]uddie in learning God as they do in the liues of the kings, thou would amend some qualities, and leaue some quidities.

What of Merchants.

They are studious to loose theyr wealth, and weepe when they haue lost it, care­full to get good, but ready to forget God. It is easier for a Camell to passe through a needles eye, then for a ritche man to enter the kingdome of God: if this be true as it is most true, what is theyr life? miserie: what is theyr felicit [...]e? mise­rie: what is their end? miserie. Is it not strange that these men should be miserable liuers, yet hate miserie, all is vanity saith the wiseman, and Solons words are true, Ante obitum ne­mo foelix.

Haue they not charitie?

Yes charity painted in theyr walles, not in theyr hearts, Quilibet quippe, euery Dog his loafe, though we may be liberall at his fune­rals.

I see you then make no life but ful of languishing, as there is no night without darkenes: what deeme you of Poets?

To run on the letter they are pennilesse, studi­ous to make all men learned, and themselues beggars: and whilst they lament al mens want of science, they are supplan­ted by all men in substance: they wright good tales, and reape much taunts, and are answered with, oh it is a proper man: but neuer a rag of money.

And why is that, is it not for theyr corrupt life?

Seest thou that pad in the straw, truly Philamis thou sayst well: some are excellent, of good capicitie, of great learning, whose paster all pleasance, includeth much wit, and merits much reward, but for the rest I would they might shift more and shif [...]t lesse.

How meane you this shift, me thinks it needs some syfting?

I would they had more shift in shirts, and lesse shift in subtil­ti [...]: in briefe Philamis their liues is miserable, looke on eue­ry mans way; it is eyther wickednes or wretchednes.

What thinke you of the deuine?

Why this is Huste­ron Proteron, the Cart before the horse: this figure was not appoynted by Susenbrotus in this place, this is a [...]euerend profession, wherein the infirmities of lyfe are most healed, a happye course in this worldlye wildernesse, where mens thoughts are thornes to wounde theyr conscience, these seeke [Page] theyr benefits in Gods booke, yet haue they theyr maimes in lyfe, theyr dayes and yeares are but miserie, for in that they long after a further ioye, theyr comfort is imperfect: leaue we to discend to perticulars Philamis: the end is, there is no content in earth, but this worlde is the onely pageant of in­constancie, neyther hath man any thing whereof he may tru­ly boast, or wherein onely he d [...]oth excell: if he haue gnifts of the body, they are blemished by sicknesse, they are determi­ned by death, if of the minde, they are weakened by the wan­tonnes of the flesh: discend we in to those perticulars which are in our selues, and rippe we vp our originals, ground wee not vppon the benefite of reason the beautie of our soule (where [...]y we learne to know God, and discerne good from euell) what goods haue we that beasts pertake not with vs? We haue health, so haue Lyons: we are faire, so are Pea­cocks: we are swyft, so are Horsses, yea and in all these well nye are we ouercome by vnreasonable creatures. Let vs now see what is greatest in vs: we haue boddyes, so haue trees, we haue forces and voluntary motions, so haue beasts and woormes: we haue voyces, but how shriller haue Dogges? how sharper, Eagles? how deeper, Bulles? howe sweeter and delyuer Nightingales, why boaste we then of that wher­in we are ouercome? and is not this misery of lyfe to be by them in these things ouercome?

But by your patience Celio heere is confusion growne in this discourse, els are many learned men deceyued: I haue read in Epicte­tus, that a lyfe ioyned with vertue is felicitie, so all lyfe by this meanes cannot be miserable.

I wyl rid thee of all these doubtes, cleere thee of al these clowdes, confirme thee in all these controuersies: There is good in apparance, and good in deed, felicitie in shadow, and felicitie in substanc [...]: the onely intermedium of which is death, which kylleth the corruption of the one, and furthereth vs to the frui [...]ion of the other, hee onely good is God, for hee is onely good as the Scripture teastifieth: the good in: shelve is this ver­tuous vniting of life and [...]arning, which taken by it selfe is a sollace, and compared with GOD, is but a shadowe, [Page] the true felicitie is to know God, the fained is that which was Platoes Idea, Aristotles summum bonum, the [...] Virtus: the Epicures, sensuall telicitie: the one the inuention of man: the other an inspiration from God. As touching a lyfe led in vertue, if it bee taken morrally according to the meaning of the E thnicks, it may be termed felicitie, who had not light in the darkenesse: that doore, that vine, we haue to illuminate: let vs in, and refresh vs in our worldly trauell: Cicero d [...]emed Catoes [...] lyfe Uertue, his end happie: so did Seneca, so Caesar his enimie, yet knew we it was my­serie: his life irreligious, his end desperate. Seneca himselfe talking grauely in his life time, wrighting constantlye of death, and touched somewhat with the thought of immorta­litle, made a sicknesse of a sigh, and in his end shewed some o­uer stoic all resolution, but we that haue attayned the cleere day, and are in the sunny lyght of the Gospell, what shall we terme this vertuous life? naught els (my Philamis) but a combate of the flesh with the spirite, our time of temptation, where we warre to haue victorye, and by fayth attaine the crowne of immortalitie. This is the path, & our flesh the hin­derance: D [...]ath the hauen where wearied wee rest vs, and being dissolued, attaine the direct fulnesse of our ioye: Oh ioye without compare, oh little daunger, oh great crowne, or waye to true lyfe. Now seest thou Philamis what thou soughtest, these doubtes are decided, and the conclusion that followeth of all thys controuersie, is that lyfe is miserable euery wayes, but most miserable to them that lyue ill, whose hope is dead, whose faith is falsified, who haue forsaken the true Sheapheard, to followe Sathan, betrayed theyr soule, to serue theyr bodyes, who are become the bondeslaues of sinne, and the seruauntes of vnrighteousnesse, who serue [...], and refuse God, whose portion after death is the bottomlesse pitte, where in steede of laughing they shall lament, insteed of solacing they shall sigh, and whilst the righteous shall clap theyr hands for ioy in heauen, they shall foulde theyr armes for sorrowe in hell: oh theyr horror, [Page] oh theyr miserie, oh that men can be so peruerse, and God so propitious, who calleth all, and will succour sinners, who wil ease the heauy laden, comfort the comfortlesse, giue [...] euen to the murmurers: oh whither am I carryed with these contemplations? into what Oceans of delight? wherein I be­hold as it were in a mirrour the indignitie of man, & the mer­cies of God: the miseries of this life, and the fruits of death: of which when I begin to to thinke (my Philamis) I beholde these writhen lims, as saylers doe theyr brused barke at the entrance of the hauen, reioycing that I haue past my perils to enioy my paradise. Oh happy death of those (saith Cicero) who being borne mortall, haue so well liued as to enioy eter­nitie. This is the last medicine of all euils (saith Sophocles) & the way that leadeth vs to al beatitude (as witnesseth Leo­nidas.) This bringeth vs through the stony way to the plea­sant path: this healeth vs in all infirmities: to this were wee borne, being by nature sent abroad to learne experience, lyke yong sonnes, to the ende we may with iudgement entertayne happy death as our best heritage.

Why pauseth Celio? or what holdeth thee in suspence?

Oh Philamis, I con­template the true life: and as trauellers by the beauty of the coast coniecture the benefits of the country: so in describing the commodities of death, and weighing the fruit thereof, I gather the happines of heauen, to which the spirit would flye, were it not hindered by fleshly infirmities.

Leaue these contemplations (good Celio) and prosecute your discourse: It were pittle your studies should preuent mine instructions: I pray you let vs know why som men, since death is so sweet, account it so sower, and why other men take that for plea­sure, which some esteeme to be their vtter perdition.

Tru­ly Philamis, thou hast propounded a quaint question, which auayleth much to knowledge of death, and causeth the better sort to reioyce thereat, the worser to prepare them in worthi­nes to receiue it. That sort of men which feare death, are they that li [...]e in darknesse, whose liues are worldly, who consider not the iudgementes of God, but are like Oxe and Mule in whom there is no vnderstanding: these are not touched with [Page] [...] [...]owledge of God, but are very hypocrites in his church: these proceed from euil to worse, and their practises are often frustrate: these seize vpon the widows gleanings, and perse­uer in their wickednes: these are happy in seruing the deuill, and hardened against the seruice of GOD: these are they that thinke their sinnes are vnseene, and who perseuering in their wickednes shall perish: these are they against whome Micah crieth out, whose iust condemnatiō is death: these shal sigh in the day of iudgement, whose blindnes is more thā Ci­mar [...]an, w [...]o shall haue portion with Sodom: these are they whose company is to be eschewed, who make teares dwell on the widowes cheeks, and deuoure the fatherlesse & desolate: these are they who in stead of prayers, make purchases, whose indentures are their deuotions, whose priuy seales bee theyr prayer bookes: these are they that spende in wast what poore men want, and bestow that on hounds they should giue to the hungry, and imploy that on brauery, they should vouchsafe the begger: these are they (as Bernard saith) that are made riche by poore mens farms, whose sin shall be reuenged in hell fire: these feare death, because they hope no better life, and flie the graue, in that they are fallen from grace: And this sort of sin­ners haue many swarmes of attendants: some more vehe­ment, some more desperate, all damnable: as are they who incounter violent death, after their wicked liues: and such as being adiudged for offence, make the separation of soule and body adesperate laughing game. These are they of whome Ezechiel speaketh, the soule that sinneth shall die. Examples of these sorts of men are infinite, among which Saul may first exemplifie, who being rent from his kingdome, reft himselfe of lyfe. Iudas who hauing betrayed his Sauiour, hung him selfe in despayre. Brutus who hauing murthered Caesar, slew himselfe miserably with his owne sword. Carundius Tiri­us, w [...]o hauing made a Bedlam lawe, endured a bloudie end.

Oh too many, too maruellous are the examples of suche men, who in theyr desperatenes haue made death damnable, and in theyr dissolutenes fearefull. W [...]at are they that take pleasure in death? oh blessed men, oh happy pleasure. Such [Page] as shine lyke the Sunne in theyr sinceritie, such as ack [...]w­ledge their deliuerance from God, such as are f [...]ythfull in af­flictions, and humble them in persecutions: such as a [...]e god­ly in patience, and patient in godlinesse: such as are obedient in dutie, and stedfast in doctrine: such as haue faith with the leaper, confidence with the blind-men, zeale with the woman of Canaan, acknowledge them [...]infull with the sicke of the palsie, prouing rather Cornelius, a souldiour to beleeue, than Simon Magus an inchaunter to lye: such as looke for the promises of God, and thirst after righteousnesse: such whom the zeale of the Lordes house swalloweth vp: such as suffer for persecution sake: such whose faith is not wauering, and whose vowes are in heauen, though the body be on the earth: such as are faithful and not fearful, that trust in [...]od, and mi­strust not his promises: such as are persecuted with Paul, and beleue with Paul: such as desire to indure for the truth, not to be indurate against the truth: the number is too many to tell them, yet wold my numbring might breed more, so that with Mo [...]s I might pray, O blot me out of the book of life so they may liue; so they may increase, so they may florish: & these also haue folowers, who thoe they deserue not to sit on the throne with the elders, may wait vpon the lamb as their shepheard: for my fathers house hath many dwelling places. But let vs now consider of death, for he craues constructiō: ther is a dif­fe [...]ence to die with Socrates in innocence, and Ouid in exile: there is a death to dy for euer, there is a de [...]th to liue for euer; the one pertaineth to the nocent, the other to the innocent; the one to the impugner, the other to the penitent; the one to the merciles, the other to the merciful; the one to the blasphemer, the other to the righteous: & among the righteous sort, some may fal to arise; for the righteous sinneth seuen times a day: some fal to perish, the examples are manifest, & let the learned dilate them. Among the wicked, some from Saul becommeth Paul; another from an Apostle, doth grow to be an [...]oistata: for such as may and will not be, let their sinnes light on their heads; for the righteous, blessed be the Lord, that hath chosen them into his fould; for such as fall and may rise, I wyll [Page] [...] somewhat Philamis, for it is my custome: but I would [...] that were all our [...]. [...] thou [...], and [...] th [...]u [...] thy fault? [...] leaue (O mortal man) to per­seuer in thy follyes. For [...]. Augustine saith: As the loue of God is the well of vertue: so is the loue of the world the wel of vices. Come vnto me (saith Christ) all such as are laden, & I will ease [...]. Bernard saith, the perfect seruaunt of Christ loueth nothing but him. If then [...] man, thou [...] doted on thy riches, reconcile thy selfe, take thy crosse & follow Christ. He that setteth his [...]and to the plough, and looketh [...]? he that would follow him, and will straight bury his father, he is vnworthy of the haruest, vnmeet of such a maister. Hath the Deuill tempted [...] lay hold on Christ. Heare Hierome: The power of the Deuill is of no force beeing resisted by a strong faith: And Augustine, who saith: That the Deuill can deceiue no man, excepthe confidently put his trust in him, [...] thou [...] through contention with thy brother, amend thy selfe: Learne of Paule to the Galathians the sixth chap. Let euery one (saith he) among you [...]eare the burthen of ano­ther. [...]eare Tully: There is nothing (saith he) but may bee suffered by him that perfectly loueth his neighbour. I haue read in the Ecclesiasticall historie, that Antipater Idumeus, which was Father of Herod the great, in diuers battayls re­ceiued diuers wounds, bearing such perfect loue to the Em­perour his maister, that he indured them patiently: notwith­standing afterwards being falsely accused before the Empe­rour, and brought vnto him, not relying on his accusers com­plaints, but guided by his owne innocencie, hee spake in this sort to his Maiestie.

Mightie Soueraigne, I will vse no great wordes for my excuse, but these greene wounds, which I haue suffered for your loue, and aduentured in your seruice, which are euiden­ces of my deuotion towardes you, and not of any doublenes: let them speake for me and expresse my loue, condemn my ac­cusers, commend my constancie.

The Emperour beeing of iudgement, receyued him into grace, and in stead of punishing him, plagued his accusers: a [Page] lesson to reconcile friendes, and hauing [...] them, [...] arme them to die well. For true friendship [...] but a­mongst good men (as Tully [...]) neyther [...] a good man that truly trusteth in the euer liuing God, euer fayle of a good end. But leaue we offences towards man, and cast we our eyes vp to heauen: there sitteth a Sauiour, who hath suf­fered for all our sins, hath beene buffeted for our benefit, hath borne the burthen to lighten vs, hath beene cruci [...]ed for our comfort, hath had wounds, to heale our weakenes, hath suffe­red shame to subdue our sinne, hath swet bloud, to graunt vs sweet blessings, hath beene plagued for our peace, hath gro­ned to end our griefe: his mild hands hath been wounded for [...]: he hath suffered for vs that did sin, in his body which had no sin: who endured that which we deserued: and compare we our [...] in offending him, with his righteousnes in pardoning vs: [...] offended him? (as thou canst not but sin in this flesh) lift vp thy heart, and be [...] sorry, then see how [...] calleth from the heauens: I am come to destroy saith he, be thou therefore stedfast. I wil locke the penitent man in my [...]: I will loue thee, if thou but leane towards me. Poure my repentance in thy lappe my brother, and I will saue thee, I haue compassion on thee, and will gather thee though a straying lambe, & cal thee home tho a lost sheepe, and kisse thee though a [...] son, and pray for thee in that I am thine aduocate. Oh vnspeakable mercy, who would not cleaue to this anchor to leaue the worlde? Who would not be reconciled to this God for a litle calami tie? who would not be hartily penitent for such a patron'?

Oh de­uine spirit in a deafe man, good Celio proceede, for thou com­fortest my soule.

Trouble me not to conclude Philamis, but heare thou, can the pilat in the storm refuse a good [...] can the condemned in his danger contemn his pardon? vnlesse eyther the [...] be desperat, or y^e other deuilish: it is impossible, it is inconuenient, among men it is incredible: how then shuld we refuse Christ, when he calleth vs, who through the narrow seas of death, calleth vs to the hauen of heauen? who would [...] imbrace these waues thogh they embowell them: & kisse [Page] [...] though they ouerflowe him, and blesse this de [...]th for [...].

I but Celio, this wealth is a great foe of [...], this is a deepe thorne (as Gregory [...]) that [...] in all [...], to leaue rich possessions, kind frends, to dwell in the graue, is not this a griefe?

What griefe Philamis, what griefe can it be? Barnard saith, your [...] be bayne, for they [...] Lordshippe, and cause [...]: they [...], but make payment of feare: And Paul writeth to Timothy, they that will be rich, fall into greate temptations, and snares of the Deuil, and into diuers [...] desires, [...], and noysome, which bring men to death and perdition: are not these euen reasons enough vnto reasonable men to forsake wealth? What is a rich man but the flower of the grasse? A poore man in his good heart, is better than a gay man with his golde ring: God [...] the hungry, and sendeth the rich empty away. The poore widdow in Luke was commended aboue the great rich men: for [...] is as great in a poore widowes inyte, as in a rich mans Miriade.

Say thou [...] riches, will they not wast? and are they not subiect to rust? betrayed by fire? But gather not riches (my sonne) the wealth that will perish, but that which wil endure: all pompe is vaine, all pleasure but a shadowe, seest thou not them die daily before thyne eyes? and wilt thou liue to them? They are the foes of men (Philamis) they bring traytors to thy bed, worke murthers [...] father and sonne, twixt mo­ther and daughter: Oh vanitie of vanities, which men call riches. Art thou rich? know that the things which are at ful­nes must haue a fall: wilt thou say vnto thy selfe, come let me reioice in my possessions, my barns are ful, my bagges stuffet? [...] the sentence sounding in thine eare, Thou foole thy soul shal be taken from thee. Crates the Theban, a man of great fortunes, and a graue Philosopher, threw great substance in­to the Sea, and sayd thus: [...] you from me ye fruits of [...], for [...] in detayning you I drowne with you. Saint [...] alleadgeth the example of an other [...], who [...] a great [...] of golde with him in hys [Page] tranaile, and considering in his minde that he could not pos­sesse riches and vertue together, [...] threw his wealth from [...], and sayd thus: O vaine riches [...] me, the Gods graunt me that I may euer loose you.

Thus did Ethnickes seeking but theyr chiefest good, and shall not we leaue worldly trash, to liue with our good [...]? Who had not rather be a blessed Nathan, than a cursed Na­bal? though the wicked liue and growe in wealth, it is his forbearance: for what hope hath the Hypocrite (saith Toby) if when [...] hath [...] vp his riches, [...] take away hys Soule? Chrysostome sayth, God giueth benefites both to the worthie and vnworthy: thou mayest then be rich in vn­worthinesse, and tryumph in thyne owne wretchednes. Draw neare my [...] (sayth Athanatos) I wil make your [...] kingly, though you bee caytiues: I gouerne both the royal Crowne, and the humble Cradle. Come vnto me (sayth Athanatos) I wil with drawing one sigh, end al thy sorrows: with one grone end al griese, make your soules fit. I wil sette you forward.

Here stay good Celio, thou hast long time discour­sed heere of the benefits of life euerlasting, but giuest no assu­rance of the same. Saith not the Philosopher, Post mortem nulla voluptas? how can then this life be eternal wherin there is no pleasure. If it be true that Apollonius Tianeus aled­geth, and the Pythagorists perswade, that the soules haue passage from one body to another, me thinks this separation should be rather cause of molest, than myrth to the spirit. Ho­mer besides a great Poet sayth, that death is ful of horrour: satissie me heerein (good Celio) that euery way thou mayest say sufficient.

If it bee true (Philamis) as Tully testifieth, that there is no nation so [...], that standeth not in some re­ligious awe of God, whose seate is the heauen, whose foote­stoole is the earth: If it be vndoubted in thee, that Christ his Sonne is the propitiation for our sinnes, as each true Chri­stian must confesse, thou needs not doubt, the scripture shal sa­tisfy thee: hark what Iohn the Apostle saith of our sauior, nay [Page] [...] himselfe speaketh of himselfe, Jesus said to Thomas I [...] the way, the truth, and the life: no man commeth vnto the [...] but by mee? wil [...] thou haue life euerlasting? ke [...]pe the commandements. Christ hath swalowed vp death, that we might be heires of euerlasting life. Christ is the bread of lyse: the life eternal is to know God, and Christ whom he hath sent his son. Beleeuest thou Gods booke? why art thou then be­sotted? why bringst thou in this blind instance of the Epicurt? Doth not Seneca the graue Philosopher condemne hi [...], pro­uing by assured reasons that there is no felicitie but in death? If there be no pleasure after the soule is departed, what be­commeth of the righteous? deemest thou who hath runne hys race, hath not his garland? and that hee who hath finished hys course, hath not his quiet? For Apollonius Tianeus since the Fathers condemn him, commend him not: for as one swallow maketh not a sommer, so a fewe instances subuert not an vni­uersal certaintie. Eusebius (with other learned) examining the cause of feare, especially in death, reasoneth thus: If there be any euill in death, it is the feare of the same that increaseth it, and if there be no euill, the feare it selfe is a great euil: fond then is he that feareth death, for that he augmenteth his euill, or rather causeth it himselfe. Base is the spirit of euery man, saith Sabellicus, which feareth deth: for fearing it in his own respect, in that he is in soule immortall, he ought not to fear, if he lose his body: for what folly is it to be afraid of that which is at enmitie with vs? If desire of gaine hath made death but a trifle, among the men of no heauenly capacitie: If it hath incouraged some to stop a swallowing gulfe with y^e Romane, to die for their maister, as the slaue of Anthony, what should death be to vs, which expect not a momentary, but an immor­tal glory? nor raised among men, but registred in immortality? The sweetnes of death was manifest in the persecutions of the Primitiue Church, where infantes with great constancie endured much crueltie: sweete is the payne in expectati­on of the [...]. Beleeue mee Philamis, there is nothing so accordant [...]o nature as death, and nothing more enemie to the soule, than mortall life, which is a Sea so tempestuous, [Page] that none but a constant mind ( [...] by [...] grace) [...] a­uoyd the shipwrack, marke the hard penance of [...] is life assig­ned to our grandsire Adam: Bicause (saith the Lord) thou hast obeyed the voyce of thy wife, and hast [...] of the [...] whereof I commaunded thee, saying. Thou shalt not eat of it, cursed is the earth for thy sake, in sorrowe shalt thou eate of it, all the dayes of thy life: Thornes also and thi [...]les shall it bring foorth vnto thee, and thou shalt eate the herbe of the field. [...] the sweate of thy face shalt thou eate bread till you returne to the earth, &c. [...] how Iob cursseth that lyfe which thou commendest. Let the day perrish wherein I was borne, and the night when it was sayd, there is a man childe conceiued: heere haue we no continuing citty saith Paul to the Hebrewes, I am wearied with speaking Philamis, and the sunne inclineth to the West. Thus time passeth like a sha­dowe, and life as Barnard sayth, consumeth away like a bub­ble: scorne therefore to be in prison, when thou maist haue li­bertie: to be a bondman, when thou maist be fre [...]: [...]o [...]e captiue in the flesh, when thou maist liue in the spirit; cast of thy ould wayes, and thy wonted vanities, forsake vnprofitable stud­dies, and search out the Scriptures, there is the liuing foun­taine, the other are muddy puddles: there the truth, the other mens traditions: there the strong anchor, y^• other but a weake grapple, oh looke on Gods booke, & leuel at Gods blessings, his words are perfection, the others the fruites of earthly opinion: ca [...]t of vaine loues, and put on the loue of vertue: learne of Octauius to be continent, trust nothing that sauo­reth not to righteousnes: beleeue not euery fable, for follie hath many fine shadowes: beware flatterers, they are the snares of the innocent: be warie like Esops Mowse, for there be many cats stirring, who will clawe thee where it doth not itch, and catch thee in their gripe, if thou haue no good regard: in breefe, liue thou well, and thou art wealthie. Senecat ather liked learned Senetios slaue Dipaostes, then his obliuious master the Senator: choose thy friends not by their coate but by knowledge, and among all things loose no time, it is thy best treasure: in thy writings ascribe all good things to God, [Page] [...] to thy wit, in thy reading medi [...]ate often, it is Seni­caes lesson, Nulla dies [...], if thou be passionate, [...] thee of thy [...]: if mery, [...] the meane, the humble cot hath quiet, when lofty towers haue greatest assaults: finally [...] all earthly things in comparison of heauenly ioyes, where is ioy without ceasing, where the saintes sing Os [...]ma seated a­bout the throane, and the Angels minister to his deuine ma­ [...], who giue thee grace to follow my counsaile, and grant me constancie in mine end, I am wearie Philamis, and these old bones and crused carkas would haue rest: farewell, God blesse thee, and as thou likest this dayes labour, come visit me often.

Fatherly are thy woords Celio, and thy coun­sailes conformable, which I will lock vp in this b [...]est, and thinke on to mine benefit, beseeching God to send many such shepheards, to counsaile such as I, who are youthful sinners.