[Page] THE Life and Death of william Long beard, the most famous and witty English Traitor, borne in the Citty of London.

Accompanied with manye other most pleasant and prettie histories, By T. L. of Lincolns Inne, Gent.

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Printed at London by Rychard Yardley and Peter Short, dwelling on Breadstreat hill, at the Signe of the Starre. 1593.

¶ THE LIFE AND death of William Long beard.

Howe Willyam Long beard betraied his elder bro­ther vnto his death, of his falling in acquaintance with the Abbot of Cadonence in Normandy and how cunning­ly and coulourably they got authority from the Kinge to accomplish their ambitious pretences.

WHilst all the world was in vprore, and schismes raigned in the Church, when God by prodigious signes, threatened pestilent plagues: at suche time as two sunnes appéered in our Horizon in England, and three Moones were discouered in the West in Italie, William with the longe beard was borne in the famous Cittie of London, of greater minde then of high parentage, a graft of mightie hope at the first, though (as it afterwards proued) his parents spent too much hope on so little vertue. This frée Cittizen borne, tenderlie fostered in his infancie, was afterwards trained vp in good letters, wherin he profited so suddenlie, that most men won­dered at his capacitie, and the wisest were afraid of the con­clusion: And for that the age wherein hee was bread (being the third yeare of Henrie the Second) was full of troubles, this yoong mans rare guifts were raked vp in the embers, little regarded because not yet ripened: but at last as years increased the minde ordained for mightie thinges began to mount, the rather because ambition sealed his eies, which made him with the Doue soare so hie, till his own cunning [Page] and labour made him be ouerturned: for when he perceiued his fathers foote alreadie prepared for the graue, his mother seazed by age, and more besotted with affection, himselfe at mans estate & without maintenance, he thus began the first fruites of his impietie, the sequell whereof exceedeth all con­ceit, and testifieth his deuilish and damnable nature. He had a brother elder than himselfe in yeares, but yoonger in policie, who (hauing by his owne frugalitie gotten great wealth) was called to be a Burgesse of the cittie: a man be­loued of all men for his vpright dealing, and lamented of al men for his vntimelie death. For William little regarding the benefites he had receiued of him in his youth, the bro­therlie kindnesse, the bountifull curtesies, sought all means possible to betray him, who had trained him vp, to suck his hart bloud, who had sought his harts rest, and to that intent séeing the opportunitie fitted him, in the raigne of Richard the first, that noble Prince of famous memorie, he suborned certeine lewd and smister confederates of his to accuse him of Treason: for which cause poore innocent man being sud­denlie apprehended, his goods were confi [...]cate, his body im­prisoned, his wife and children left succourlesse, whilst wic­ked William being both complotter, informer, and witnes, wrought so cunningly with the kings councell that the goods were his, which his brother with his long labour had gotten, and the poore innocent man brought out before the Iudges with wéeping eies, beheld his yoonger brother both reuel­ling in his ritches, and reiocing at his ruine. Many were his obtestations before God, and protestations to the Iud­ges, manie his exhortations to his brother, and detestati­ons of his periurie. But William whose hart was the very harbour of all impietie, ceased not in his owne person to so­licite, and by his companions to incense the Iudges in such sort, that his brother was at last by them condemned and ad­iudged to death, as some Writers suppose for coining. And being led forth to his execution like an harmelesse innocent, the people mustering about the place, the curssed brother the occasion and compactor of his confusion accompanie him, [Page] with these or such like words he finished his life. Thou God that knowest the cause of my vntimelie death, canst in iu­ [...]ice punish my vniust accusers, meane while take mercie on my poore soule, who am forsaken of my priuate friends, be thou a safeguard vnto me, whoe am left without succors, and helpe the desolate widdow with hir distressed children: This said, after some priuate conference by permission, be­twéene his brother and him, he suffered torment.

But William hauing gotten wealth began to take vpon him state, and vnderstanding his father and mother through hartie griefe were in their extreame age committed to the graue, he seazed on their goods, carrieng such a countenance in London that all men wondered at him: In wit he was pregnant; in publike affaires pollitike; in reuenges con­stant, in speeches affable, in countenance graue, in apparell gorgeous, yea so cunning was he to insinuate himselfe a­mong the Commons, that as the report went, he had more Prentises clubs at his command, then the best Courtier had seruants to attend him.

And as the custome is whilest thus he behaued himselfe, it fortuned that hee fell in companie and conference with the Abbot of Cadonence in Normandie, a man as high min­ded as himselfe, and more subtill than Sinon, by whose ad­uise and directions he grew so craftilie conceited, that vnder a holie pretert he wrought more mischiefe, than either the Councell of England could for a long time remedie, or by industrie reuerse, and thus it fortuned. After that the no­ble and warlike Richard the firste of that name, had to his immortall glorie recouered his rights in France, establi­shed peace with the French king, and by the perswasions of his mother Dame Elianor, reconciled his brother Iohn, who had before that time béene at deadlie [...]d with him. It ple­sed his Maiestie, partlie for his owne recreation sake, part­lie to remedie the discontents of his subiects, to goe on Pro­gresse in the eight yeare of his reigne, and in the yeare of our Lord 1197. at which time the Abbot of Cadonence and William watching an occasion and oportunitie, so cunning­lie [Page] wrought she matter, that they had audience at his Ma­iesties hands, and attained vnder the broad seale the whole summe of their requests. The Abbot couloured his strata­gem vnder the coppie of conscience: assuring the king that the corruption of his officers were the chiefest groundes of publike contention, praieng him in the bounty of an heroick and princelie potentate, to take some order for she correction of them, least at the last it should turne to his owne confu­sion.

His maiestie that had euer regard of the poore, with gra­tious good words thanked him for his good will, giuing him warrant and authoritie to redresse those inconueniences, and promising him great promotions, if he tooke any profite by his pollicie. William now that hath the second subtiltie to enact, suted his lookes in all sobrietie, and stroaking his long beard which he curiouslie fostered euen from the begin­ning, tolde the king of the insolence and outrage of rich men who spared their owne and pilled the poore, robbed Irus and clawed Midas: beséeching in the commons behalfe, a reme­die for this inconuenience: wherevnto the king easilie con­discended, so that he likewise was authorized to redresse such enormities, and both he and his fellowe Abbot, were with manie princelie fauours dismissed.

Mounted thus vpon the whéele of Fortune, which euerie waie sheweeth hir selfe as fickle as she is fauourable, as ful of gall as she hath honie, they both of them depart for Lon­don, carrieng so high countenances as euerie one were a­mazed at their manners. My lord Abbot first suted in his Pontificallbus called forth diuers officers, purposing to ex­amine their accounts, taunting them with vntowarde lan­guages, and accompanieng threates with imprisonment. But as the Giants that threatened the heauens were ouer, throwne in their most hautinesse, and as Phaeton vsurping his fathers seat was confounded for his ambitious pride by vntimelie death, so the Abbot of Cadonence, when he thoght to cauell at all accompts, was called to accompt himselfe, before she Tribunall iustice seat of God, and died in midest [Page] of his iollitie. But William who towred with the Phaenix to burne in the sunne, and aduentured to crosse the troblesome seas of this world to perish with ouermuch wrastling in the same, now began his pageant exhorting and stirringe the commons to loue and imbrace libertie, to fight and labour for freedome, brieflie to detest and blame the excesse and out­rage of ritch men, whoe as he tolde them reaped the sweet whilst they poore soules sweat for it. Heerevnto wrested he manie stories of antiquitie: First the Laconian state, next the popular gouernement of Athens, wherein peace neuer flourished better said he, than when the Commons had frée­dome of speech. With these and such like honie spéech, he so animated the multitude, that like a second Hercules he drew them by the eares thorow the honie of his eloquence. And to his words he annexed action, vndertaking manie poore mens causes, who were ouerborne by the rich, handeling his matters with such pollicie, as that he was held for a second God among the poore, and for a long time esteemed for a good subiect by the Prince. Yet notwithstanding this, the mightie maligned him greatlie, for that he had informed the king that by their meanes his Maiestie lost manie forfeits and [...]scheats which were due vnto him: and for that his dete­sted subtleties may be more apparant, where through he clo­ked his succéeding treacheries, I haue thought good to sette downe some one of them, which may giue a taste to those tra­gike miseries which shall ensue.

How William with the long beard handled the cause of Pe­ter Nowlay a Cobler, who was iniuried by Robert Be­sant, sometime Bailife of London.

DUring the time that William long beard flou­rished after this manner in all pompe and pleasure, attended dailie and hourelie by hole troops of Citizens, it fortuned that one Peter Nowlay a cobler, a man of little capacitie liued in London, whoe hauing gotten vppe [Page] by his owne handie labour and endeuour, the summe of for­tie marks, and not knowing the meanes how to employ the same to his best commoditie, solicited one Robert Besaunt, sometimes Baylife of London, to take the same money in­to his hands and to employ it to some good vse, to the ende that after his decease, his poore infants which were twoe in number might haue some succour and maintenance.

This money Robert Besaunt accepted, hauing the vse thereof for the space of ten yeares, accustoming poore Peter as these great men are wont to doo, to a Sundaies dinner, and swéet words (which in these our daies is the verie poison of this world, & in that time was no small pestilence) At last, pleased God to call the Cobler to his mercie, where through his poore wife liued distressed, his children complaine theyr miserie, and all his neighbors considering the honestie of the man in his life, were compassionate, and pittied his Or­phans after his death. The poore mother seeing hir necessi­ties increase, and hir abilitie quite ouerthrowne, separated apart from all companie, began to wéepe verie tenderlie, re­commending hir poore babes to his mercy, who had no doubt lent them hir to a better end than famishment.

Ahlas (said she) my God, if the least Sparrow is not vn­cared for by thee, what letteth me to trust my childrens helth vnto thée, who hauing bestowed breath vpon them, mayest likewise in fauour bestow bread vpon them. Thou séest Lord their friend is taken from them, and the mothers neastlings without thy helpe must become staruelings: Woe is me; would God I had forgon my life, or forgotten loue: o [...] would my handes were as plentifull, as my heart is pittifull. Ah Pellican, I must imitate thée, and pierce mine owne breast to the end I may foster my babes, otherwise the helpe is vaine which hope yéeldeth, since charitie is cold which should feede hope. Woe is me, where should I begin to mourne, that haue no end of mone. Shall I lament my marriage: no, the heauens ordained it: shall I complaine of Fortune? no: for then I suppose an enimie where there is none: shall I blame my fruitfulnes? how vaine were that? since it is [Page] a felicitie to enioy babes. What then shall I doo? truelie put my whole trust and confidence in Gods mercie, whoe being Lord of all plentie can best of all relieue necessities. Scarsly bad she ended these words, when as hir yoong ones, the one imbracing hir necke cried for meate, the other kissing hir hands moorninglie bewraied his wants: whilst she like Mir­rha hauing tears to bewail them, no tresure to relieue them, sung this wofull Lullabie vnto them, whilst the musicke of hir voice enforced them to listen hir.

Lullabie,
Ah little Laddes
Giue ceaselesse sorow end with lullabie,
Suck vp my teares
That streame from out the fountaines of mine eie,
Feed, feed on me
whom no good hope or Fortune glads,
Oh set me free
From those incessant and pursuing feares
which waken vp my woes and kil my pleasure.
Lullabie,
Weepe, weepe no more
But let me weepe, and weeping weepe life hence,
That whilst you want,
I may not see false Fortunes proud pretence.
When I am dead
My God perhaps will send you store.
Oh smile in need,
Poore hungry babes let smiles be nothing scant
I teares, yow smiles; both haue no better treasure,
To bring these woes exceeding meane or measure
To Lullabie.

Noe sooner had she finished hir song but Robert Besaunt entered the house, who though altogither giuen ouer to co­uetousnesse, yet beholding the wofull estate of the poore wife [Page] and children, he comforted them the best he might, sending for some little sustenance to yéeld hir and hir little ones som succour, and after some conference about hir husbands state, & his maner of death, he desired colourablie to see hir wri­tings, to the ende he might couenablie conuaie out of her hands the bill of fortie marks, which he had past vnto Peter hir husband in his time. The sillie soule supposing his almes deeds was vnattended by trecherie, drew out of an olde till, certeine briefes which she had, vsing these or such like terms. Maister Besaunt (saith she) your worship as I remember, ought to be a patron of these poore infantes: for I haue of­tentimes heard my husband saye (when I had a motherlie care what should become of my children) that he had proui­ded for them, charging me to remember that till euer when I needed, & to vse you as a father for these infants, whose honestie as he sware, he would builde his soule vppon: for which cause (giuing him the writings) I beséech your Wor. quoth she, to pervse all his secrets, & to stand my good friend in this my miserable widdowhood. Maister Besaunt tou­ched to the quicke, changed coulour verie often, and recea­uing them at hir hands with a quiuering feare (procéeding by reason of his earnest combate betwéene conscience and couetousnesse) he at last, after long perusing, found his own bill, which he carelessie tearing, tolde hir that all of it was but wast paper, and therevpon blushinglie departed, giuing hir but colde comfort for hir great hope.

The good woman animated by some diuine power, and [...]spieng the scales of his shame shadowed in his blushing browes, tooke hold of his gowne sléeue, praieng him to staie a little while, and not to leaue hir so suddenlie: for (said she) good sir, if you thus leaue vs, you shall proue that you little loue vs: besides, your hast makes me to misdoubt your ho­nestie (pardon good sir I praye you if I mistake) for thus to wreak your selfe on paper, and to shew by your suspectful lookes, your apparant misdoubts, makes me imagine you haue deceiued my Peters hope, besides these papers which you haue torne, may perhaps be some testimonies, which I [Page] will gather as she relikes of your rage (and therewithall she stooped and tooke them vp) But aboue all good maister Be­saunt remember God, quoth she, and if there be ought that concerneth these little ones in your conscience, cloake not in that behalfe, for God who gaue them me, will not suffer their innocencie to be vnreue [...]ged.

Maister Besaunt sore incensed with these words, and sus­pitious least his councell should be disclosed, by the broken and scattered papers: at firste by smooth spéeches, began to persuade hir, to restore him them; but when reason and in­treatie inioyed no place (for the more he moued hir, the more she suspected) he began to vse violence. When as she poore children seeing their mother iniured beyond measure, cried for helpe for hir, whom motherlie care had animated alrea­die, euen to the triall of death, rather than to leaue hir pa­pers.

The noise in the house, and the crie of the children, cal­led in the neighbors, whoe seeing Robert Besaunt, a man of such reputation as he was held: not daring to inforce, began to intreat his forbearance: who dreading his owne discredit beyond measure, left hir for that time, puffing, sweating, and swearing, that he would be reuenged on hir, whoe had in this sort wrought his discontent: to be short, he neuer de­sisted, till she were imprisoned, vowing neuer to graunt hir libertie, till suche time as she restored to him the torne wri­tings.

The miserable Widdowe in this peck of troubles, gathe­ring a verie confident boldnesse vnto hir, denied the restitu­tion. And finallie, after the councell of some poore Citti­zens, put vppe a supplication or a supplantation (as the sil­lier sort of people called it) vnto William with the longe beard, presenting him likewise with the broken and torne p [...]ces of paper, neuer ceasing in most humble and pittifull manner, to intreat a mercifull and tender compassion, to­wardes the reliefe of hir selfe and hir poore children. Willi­am that pretermitted no occasion whereby he might insinu­ate himselfe amongest the poorer sort, and winne the credit [Page] of a good Iusticer at his princes handes, began to examine euerie circumstance, and to leaue no meane vnsought, wher by he might get himselfe glorie, and doo the poore widdowe good.

First therefore, he ioyned the papers, and conferred the manner of the iniurie with the other circumstances, and at last he euidentlie found, and therewithall certified others, that these torne papers, was the bill of debt for forty marks. Finallie, comparing the estate of the poore man with that of Besaunts, the time the money had béene in the defendants hands, and the corrupt intention of the riche man, whoe by renting the bill, thought to race out the remembrance of his due debt, he called him before him, charging the officiall to bring the widdow and hir children before him in open sessi­ons: where after long debating, and trouble on both sides, Besaunt standing on his credit, the widdow on hir innocen­cie: William willing to catch the cat with his owne clawe, began thus. Maister Besaunt, you are called into iustice, not that we suspect your honestie, or detract from your esti­mate, but for this cause are you called: that if you will be deposed, that all allegations which may be alledged against you by this widdow are false, you may see hir punished, and iustice executed. Besaunt little suspecting the snare that was laide, and the subtiltie intended, began with huge oathes to protest, that he neither stood any waie indebted to the poore Coblerlatelie deceased: neither was in any sort liable to the false suggestions of the widdowe. William perceiuing euidentlie she vngodlie intent of the man to defraud, and how gratious a déed he should doo, to speak in the innocents defense: First commanded Besaunts Oath to be taken, and after that rowsing himselfe in a maiesticall manner, he be­gan thus.

I sée well my countreymen, that iustice had need of a pa­tron, when those that should maintaine hir, séeke to maime hir: Ah what a world liue we in, when trust shall be betraid: when simplicitie, shall be vndermined with subtletie: and pouertie ouertopped by power. Behold saith hee, my con­treymen [Page] (and therewithall he caused the two children to bee placed by him) two harmelesse infants: for whom the poore father laboured in his life time, both left to begge after his death. Alas that corruption should blind iudgement so farr that where we ought in charitie to succour these, men make no conscience to supplant them. The Cedar though a tall trée, lets the little shrub prosper vnder him: the Eglantine flourisheth by the Oake: the Gold [...]nch féedeth by the Grif­fin: but the prouerbe is true among vs nowadaies.

Homo homini Demon.

We liue as we should know no lack, we flourishe as if we feare no fall, we purchase as if life could not perish: to win the world we make shipwracke of our soules: and in suche a world where corruptions are so rife, iustice must not sleepe: for if it should, the weake should to the walles, and the peny father by his power, should ouerpresse the penilesse in their pouerties. Now therefore countreymen giue eare, and hea ring, pittie: and pittieng, patronize these poore soules. This Besaunt wrongeth them, making his credit the countenance of his craft, and his goods the coulour of his vngodlinesse: behold his hand writing, wherein he thinking to extinguish the memorie of his debt, hath renewed the meanes of his owne destruction, (which said, he publikelie shewed the pa­pers) and after that turning him to M. Besaunt, he expostu­lated thus; Well sir, since your corruption is found out, and your vngodlie oathes haue doubled your offence, by that au­thoritie which I haue receiued from his maiesty: I condemn you to pay the summe of fortie marks with the vse thereof, for ten yeares, vnto this widdow and hir children: next, for your periurie, wherein you haue offended God especiallie, and next your countrey: I adiudge you to paie, in waie of a fine to his Maiestie, two hundreth poundes sterling: adui­sing you hereafter, to vse your conscience more vprightlie, and to deale by the poorer sort more iustlie.

Besaunt who highlie stood on his reputation, was so ama­zed at his so sudden conuiction before the assemblie of the ci­tie, that he knew not what to say: his owne hand he coulde [Page] not denle, and if he should, there were some in the companie well acquainted therewith. To be adiudged thus of by his inferiour (as he thought) it was no small disgrace: for which cause, smothering vnder faire lookes his false hart, he appe­led to the king and his Councell: assuring William that he would not be discredited in that sort, and that it shoulde cost him a thousand pounds, but he would be reuenged. With these and such like spéeches, the court brake vp, the widdow & the children were dismissed with giftes, and William with a thousand Cittizens at his taile, was with great triumphe conuaied to his lodging. But Besaunt for all his braues, was committed, and enforced to pay the penaltie, yea so did William worke with the king and his councell, as had not this corrupt marchant with great sommes got himself frée, no doubt he had béene brought within the compas of a Pre­munire, such subtill suggestions had William practised a­gainst him.

How William with the long beard behaued himselfe towardes the Courtiers, and of his loue to his faire Lemman Maude­line.

WIlliam (hauing by this means insinu­ated himselfe into the fauour of the king, and by that reason brought the cittizens in feare of him) like the vn­toward childe, whoe hauing an inche, stealeth an elle: began to presume a­boue the latchet (as the prouerbe is) setting light by all men, animating the baser sort against the better: so that the Nobilitie put vp much iniurie at his hands, the clergie were badlie vsed by him, and the officers of the cittie highlie offended. The earle of Durham then Chancellor and bishop, taking the parte of a chapleine of his, who was iniuried by a meane and mecha­nicall townesman, was braued by him in Cheape side, bea­ten of his horsse, and had not the Bailifes of the cittie rescued [Page] him, the common spéeches went, he should neuer haue cour­ted it more. A gentleman in court at another time, vpbrai­ding William of his base estate and birth, told him that the worst haire in his beard, was a better gentleman than hee was: for which cause William mightilie agréeued, and wat­ching opportunitie of reuenge, at last incountred him braue lie, mounted on his foot cloth in Friday stréet, where taking him forceably from his horsse, he carried him into a Bar­bers shop, and caused both his beard and head to be shaued close, pleasantlie giving at him in this sort.

Gallant, now haue I cut of the whole traine of of the best gentlemen, you durst compare with me the last daie, and if hereafter you bridle not your toong, (as base a Gen­tleman as you make me, Ile haue you by the eares. The king informed héereof, grew highlie offended, but William who wanted neither money, friends, nor eloquence, so orde­red the matter, as his maligners might barke, but not bite him. But for that all his minde was planted on ambition, and his greatest feare was, least by ouer forward thrusting himselfe into state, his cloaked aspiring shoulde be discoue­red, he began for a while to leaue the court, to intend onelie the causes of the poore, and complot those meanes, whereby labouring for mightines without suspect, he might attaine the same without counterchecke: and first to make shewe how much his mind was altred from high climing, he craf­tilie pretended a new conceited loue, and but pretending it at firste, at laste was inforced to practise it, and thus it fell out.

An honest and well disposed Merchant of London, had by his wife a faire and amiable yoong mayden to his daughter, being the onely hope of his age, and the fruit of his corage: This louelie Mawdelin (as the lesser starres are in respect of the sunne, or Mercurie in regarde of the Orbe of Venus) a­mongst our London damosels, was the A perse for beautie, [...]d the parragon of perfections, hir looks full of quickening puritie, were able to animate loue in Marbel, nature could doo no more but wonder at hir owne handiworke; & art had [Page] nought but shadowes, in respect of such a substance. Al eies that beheld hir wondred, all pens that praised hir were quic­kened by hir excellence. To be short, hir least worth was of so great consequence, as the best writer might be abashed, to conceit or imagine them: with this faire damosell Willi­am Long beard traffiqued his fancies, summoning hir yéel­ding affections, with so manie earnest sutes and seruices, that he at last conquered that fort, wherein fancie himselfe tooke delight to tyranize: and as the Iet draweth Amber, the Load stone the Stéele of the compasse, so hir beautie as­saulted his sences, that all of them had no power of their of­fices, but were fatallie assigned to subscibe to hir sorceries, And where as authoritie and countenance are wrested, the bulwarke of chastitie (though otherwise impregnable) is of­tentimes impugned, and not onelye assaulted, but at laste subdued: William by his friends and followers so wrought, that what by his friends and faire words, he won hir for his Lemmon, sparing no cost to trick hir out in brauerie, to the end he might by that meanes, giue a foile and glasse to her beawtie. This Maudelin thus compassed, hir paramour be­gan to pranke it in the brauest fashion, wresting his wits to make an idoll of hir worth: whose amorous passions, since they are of some regard, I haue heer set downe for the court­liest care to censure of.

Amidst the maze of discontented mind,
The royall trophey of ioy-breeding loue,
A happy holde and resting place did find,
Within that brest which earst earthes hel did proue.
Since when my long-enfeebled eies haue reard,
Their drooping sight to gaze vpon the sunne,
Since when my thoughts in written lines appeard,
Reioycing at that Palme my faith had wunne.
Ennobled thus, by that thrice-nobled passion,
Which hath the power all worldly cares to banish,
[Page] I flie sweet-seeming leures of false occasion,
And let al thoughts but loue-sweet vade & vanish.
The fruits I reape in spight of Fortune froward,
Makes me suppose no torment too vntoward.

Another he made vpon this occasion. Maudelin his mi­stresse had a faire Iewell, wherein the twoe Cupids of Ana­creon were painted, wrastling the one with the other, with this Motto Pro palma, for which cause he wrote this sonnet, and presented hir therewith.

Ye braine-begotten dieties agree you,
Nurst by transparant christall of chast eies,
Least she that gaue you life on sudden see you,
And frowning kil you both who causde you rise.
From hir you came yong Cupids from no other,
And but for her if enuious you shal wrastle,
I feare you both wil lose a louely mother,
Hir brow your bower, hir bosome is your castle.
There gree you both, there both togither go you,
And suck the Aprill ritches of hir brest,
Then I who long haue serued and loue to shew you
How much I loue the bosome where you rest.
Will come and kisse and blesse you little wantons,
And feed you kindly wantons if you want once.

Another in respect of the occasion, I could not find in my hart to forget, for being at supper once in hir companie, where were manie that discoursed of loue, shewing all the idolatrie of their pens, in exemplifieng that vnchast deitie, he at last when the table was taken vp, remembring him of a sonnet in an ancient French Poet, on sudden wrote this imitation.

As soone as thou doost see the Winter clad in colde,
Within September on the Eaues in sundry formes to fold,
[Page] Sweet Swallow farre thou fliest till to our natiue clime,
In pleasant Aprill Phaebus raies returne the sweeter time.
But Loue no day forsakes the place whereas I rest,
But euery houre liues in mine eies and in my hart dooth nest.
Each minute I am thrall and in my wounded hart,
He builds his neast, he laies his egges, and thence wil neuer part
Already one hath wings, soft downe the other clads,
This breakes the skin, this newly flegd about my bosome gads.
The one hath broke the shel, the other soares on hie,
This newly laid, that quickly dead, before the dam come nie.
Both day and night I heare the smal ones how they crie,
Calling for food who by the great are fed for feare they die.
All wax and grow to proofe and euery yeare doo lay
A second neast, and sit and hatch the cause of my decay.
Ah Maudline what reliefe haue I for to remoue
These crooked cares that thus pursue my hart in harboring loue.
But helpelesse of reliefe since I by care am stung,
To wound my hart thereby to slaie both mother and hir yong.

At another time, being absent from his mistresse, by rea­son that he had a poore mans cause in Essex to be heard, he wrote this briefe fancie to hir, after the manner of the Ita­lian rimes.

Oh faire of fairest Dolphin like,
within the riuers of my plaint,
With labouring finnes the waue I strike
whose flouds are honored by my saint.
Withouten hart or gall I spring,
And swim to heare thee sweetly sing,
All like the fish when natures art
Hath reft of [...]ate and tender hart.
And in the sea for loue I burne,
As for Arion did the fish,
At euerie note I skip & turnes
I harke, I praise, I like, I wish.
[Page] But out alas with better chaunce
The friendly fish did him aduance,
He bare Arion on his back
Where I thy sweet imbracements lack.

These ofher twoe for their shortnesse and strangenesse, I could not finde in my hart to pretermit, knowing that the better sort, that are priuie to the imitation and method, will haue their due estimate.

My mistresse when she goes
To pull the pinke and rose,
Along the riuer bounds
And trippeth on the grounds
And runnes from rocks to rocks
With louely scattered locks
Whilst amarous wind doth play
With haires so golden gay
The water waxeth cleere
The fishes draw hir neere
The Sirens sing hir praise
Sweet flowers perfume hir waies
And Neptune glad and faine
Yeelds vp to hir his raigne.
A [...]ther.
When I admire the rose
That nature makes repose
In you the best of many
More faire and blest than any
And see how curious art
Hath decked euery part
I thinke with doubtfull vieu
Whether you be the rose, or the rose is you.

An Ode he wrote amongst the rest I dare not forget, in that the Poesie is appertinent to this time, and hath no lesse [Page] life in it than those of the ancient, & the rather because here­by the learned may sée, how euen in those daies, Poecy had hir impugners, and industrie could not be free from detrac­tion.

His Oade.
Since that I must repose
Beyond th'infernal Lake,
What vailes me to compose
As many verses as Homer did make?
Choice numbers cannot keepe
Me from my pointed graue,
But after lasting sleepe
The doomb of dreadful iudge I needs must haue.
I put the case my verse,
In lieu of all my paine,
Ten yeares my praise rehearse
Orsomewhat longer time some glorie gaine.
What wants there to consume
Or take my lines from light,
But flame or fierie fume
Or threatning noice of war or bloudy fight?
Excell I Anacrion
Stesicores, Simonides,
Antimachus or Bion,
Philetes, or the graue Bacchilides?
All these though Greekes they were
And vsde that fluent toong,
In course of many a yeare
Their workes are lost and haue no biding long.
Then I who want wits sap,
And write but bastard time,
[Page] May I expect the hap,
That my endeuors may ore-come the time?
No, no: tis farre more meet
To follow Marchants life,
Or at the iudges feet
To sell my toong for bribes to maintaine strife.
Then haunt the idle traine
Of poore Calliope,
Which leaues for hunger slaine,
The choicest men that hir attendants be:

These and such like fruits of his fancie, may sufficientlie testifie vnto you, both the high spirite and déepe inuention of this craftie Citizen, who flourishing thus in the verie ful­nesse of loues ioy, and reuelling in the chiefest pallaces of pleasure, at last recalled to mind, the ambitious desires that were wont to accompanie him, which hauing the nature of fire (which no sooner catcheth hold of drie matter but present­lie it consumeth it) from a light smoke at last fell to so huge a flame, that himselfe was confounded therewith, and all his hopes made frustrate: and thus it fell out.

The kings Maiestie hearing of his continual assemblies, and comparing his purposes with his practise, began vnder no small grounds to conceiue his curssed intention: for con­sidering with himselfe the manner of his life, the businesse of his braine, the [...] eloquence of his toong, and the migh­tinesse of his mind; he imagined (as afterward it fell out) that so great meanes of quick and capeable fuell; would at last breake out to an vnquenchable flame: wherevpon the K. with considerate iudgement called him to court, comman­ding him to cease his disordered assemblies, least in séeking to exterminate the iniuries of the rich, he shuld reuiue the in solence of the poore. For (said he) William, whoe séeth not whereto these routes tend? whoe thinketh not that riot will follow them? The labouring men that were kept from in­nonations [Page] by their worke, are now capable of all chang and nouelties in their idlenesse: In liuing as they doo, they ra­ther are drawne to detest labor, then to follow it: wherthrugh the offices and mechanicall crafts in the citiie doo cease, and by the omission of industrieriseth, the pretermission of du­tie. For this cause, as you haue care of my loue, incite them not to too much libertie. Further them what you may, if they be wronged: but let not iustice be a coulour to winne them to wickednes. With these, or such like admonitions kinge Richard attempted him, and so wrought him, that for a while the commotions and motiues of trouble were laide apart, so that he walked London stréets with lesser troops, and wholie adicted himselfe to play with his faire Maudeline, whose vn­chast life was abi-word in the cittie.

How William with the long beard slew Arthur Brown, who deceiued him of his Maudline.

WHilst William was conuersent in the affaires of state, intending euerie waie to inlarge his own power, and attending daselie vppon the kinges pleasure; it fortuned, that one Arthur Browne, fur me red by his youth, and fitted by occation, fell in with Maudline, Willams wanton concubine: and hauing welth sufficient, and wit no lesse subtill, he so craftilie handled the cause, that he won the yoong woman to stoope to a seconde lure, and to accept his loue. Manie and often times had they entercourse, so that at last the rumor passing in euerie place, it coulde not choose but light at laste in Williams hearing: who moued beyond measure to sée himselfe outfaced by one, who had so long time béene feared by all, he frowningly pre­pared reuenge, resoluing with himselfe that no means were too meane, to giue a tragicall sauce to his corrupt meaning. Wherevpon, breaking his mind with certaine of his facti­on, he a gréed to watch an oportunitie to reuenge impietie: and for that cause watching verie craftilie when Arthur his riuall should repaire vnto his lawlesse lemman, he at laste [Page] surprised and encountred him, and causing some of his train to muffle him in his cloake, and to stopp his mouth for fears of crieng, he stabbed him with a dagger in diuers places, and in the last wound left the same sticking, fastening the poore caitifes owne hande with his owne dagger, which he had purposelie (to auoid all meanes of suspition, and to raise an opinion that he had murthered himselfe) sheathed in Ar­thurs owne bodie. This doone, he departed vnespied and vn­suspected: and the bodie being founde, according to the cen­sure and verdict of the Iurie which behelde the same, was thrust thorowe with a stake, and so buried as if he had béene guiltie of his owne murther. William thus deliuered of a supplanter of his pleasure after some vnkindnesse past and calmed betweene him and his Maudline) finallie fell to an accord, accustoming hir as he was wont, vnder promise of more constancie in affection, and to the intent she should re­member hir of the iniuries offered, he wrot this with a poin ted Diamond in hir glasse.

Thinke what I suffred (wanton) through thy wildenesse,
When traitor to my faith thy losenesse led thee:
Thinke how my moodie wrath was turnde to mildnesse
When I bad best yet baser groomes did bed thee.
Thinke that the staine of bewtie then is stained,
Whenlewd desires doo alienate the hart:
Thinke that the loue which will not be contained,
At last will grow to hate in spight of art.
Thinke that those wanton lookes will haue their wrinkles,
And but by faith olde age can merit nothing,
When time thy pale with purple ouer-sprinkles,
Faith is thy best, thy beautie is a woe thing.
In youth be true, and then in age resolue thee,
Friends wil be friends, till time with them dissolue thee.

But leauing these his effeminate follies of youth, wherin he so vngratiouslie passed his time, let vs draw to the conside­ration [Page] of his traitorous practises, and finallie, as the fruits of such sinister follies conclude with his tragicall end. After he had for a time, vntill the princes minde were otherwise withdrawne with more waightie matters, ceased both his routs and riots; the old ranckled venome of his ambition began more fréelte to breake forth, so that what before time he colored vnder conscience, now at last he manifested with audacious considence: The mightie in court that maligned him, he ouermaistered by his attendants, swashing out in open streats vppon euerie light occasion: for himselfe, hee thought no man sufficient to suppresse him, [...]or of sufficien­cie to braue him: for at a beck, Coblers, Tinkers, tailors, and all sortes of the hare-brainde multitude attended him, fought for him, supported him, and made him Lorde of their factions: where-through, the better sorts neither were Lords of themselues, neither commanders of their owne liuelie­hoods. From some he extorted wealth by corrupt witnesses, sparing no meanes to inrich his followers, by racking and wresting the kinges authoritie: and no sooner did he heare that the kinge had giuen order to his councell to sensure on his bad demeanors, but gathering to himselfe a huge multi­tude, he openlie vsed this discourse vnto them, beginning his exhortation with this place of Scripture:

Haurietis aquas in gaudio de fontibus saluatoris

Which is as much to say, as, You shal drawe waters with Ioy out of the fountaines of our Sauiour. For, quoth he, my worthie and faithfull friends, whoe haue more courage than coine, and abilitie in armes then possibilities of wealth, I am the sauiour of you that are poore, and the soueraigne of such as are penilesse: you that haue assaied the hard hand of the rich, shall be succoured by the happie hande of the righte­ous.

Now therefore draw your happie fountaines of councell out of my words, and turne the troubles you haue, to assu­red triumphs: for the daies of your visitation is at hande. I shall depart waters from waters; I mean, the proud from the poore, the mercilesse from the mercifull, the good from the [Page] euill, and the light from the darkenesse. I will oppose my selfe against all dangers, to preuent your domage; and loose my life, but you shall haue liuing. Be confident therefore and bolde: for such as haue courage, are sildome conquered. Let the greatest vpbraid, they shall not bite: we haue wea­pons to withstand, as well as wordes to perswade: we are as couragious as our enimies are craftie. Stick therefore vnto me, who will striue for you: let me be supprest, you are subdued: let me flourish, you are fortunate: but if finister chance threaten; whie, Alea iacta est:

vnasalus victis nullam sperare salutem

Thus dailie and hourelie animated he the ill minded sorte: and although the king did oftentimes summon him, and by letters disuaded him from his ill demeanour: yet was hee enforced to vse violence; or otherwise, that stripe which at first séemed to be but a fillip, would at last haue growne vn­to a Fistula. For which cause, Hubert then Bishop of Can­terburie soundlie resoluing in his thoughts, that forbearance would be the meanes of further mischiefe, by the aduise of others of the Priuie councell, called him in question, sum­moning him against an appointed day, to come and yeelde a reason of those his factions tumults.

William, that saw the iron readie to war hot, and the ham­mers readie to strike, began to remember himselfe; and his guiltie conscience (which as the wise man saieth, is a hun­dreth witnesses) would not suffer him to walk with so great confidence, yet least feare should be suspected in him, whose good fortunes and life wholie depended on his courage, hee oftentimes lookt abroad, but attended by such a band of base companions, as if it had béene the proude Changuis leading his legious of Tartars thorow Europe. But when the day of his appearance came, he was backt with such a number of mechanicall rebels, that Hubert in stead of attempting him with vpbraids, was faine to temper him with flattering persuasions: yea the stoutest councellor, though neuer so considerate, were faine to intreat him, whom they had re­solued to threaten and imprison. William séeing them abasht, [Page] wared bold, and in these wordds saluted them: Honorable Fathers and graue Councellors, according to your Honou­rable summons, and the dutie of a subiect, I present my self before you, attended in this sort as you sée, not to violate lawes by lewd insurrections, but both to present my seruice to my Prince and your Honors, and to drawe my friendes and wel willers to that dutie, wherevnto in soule I am de­uoted to this state. If therefore you haue ought to command me, or if my seruices in times past be any waie suspected; I stand readie to satisfie you in the one, or answre to the other. Hubert, that knew well that soft drops in time, pierce harde stones, and that the Diamond though not tainted by the hammer, is tempered in strong vineger, began to coulour where he might not command, and flatter where he coulde not inforce; and thus he said:

Being assured, William, that good subiects tied by no bountie to their prince, yet yéelde him all obseruance, wee cannot persuade our selues that you, who haue béene autho­rised by your prince to counterchecke iniustice, will be the pattern of iniurious insolence: for which cause we haue cal­led you, not as condemners of your faith, but commenders of your forwardnesse: neither haue we so bad an opini [...]on of th [...]se good men that follow you, that either they would be drawne to violate iustice, or you could be induced to violate and al ter their honest and christianlike duties. Our onelie request to you in the kings behalfe, is to cast off this Lordlie traine, and suffer these poore men to follow their professions, least being vnawares assailed by want, they shall at laste desparatelie attempt wickednes. As for these good fellows who in their lookes promise no losenesse, I beséech them in his Maiesties name to kéepe their houses, promising them in generall, that if any one of them be wronged, they shall haue remedie. Nay, we will haue remedie in spight of you, said they, as long as William liues. And this said, without all reuerence they departed the place, carrieng with them their captaine commander, scoffing at the fainthartednes of the Archbishop: for full well was he assured, that greater [Page] seueritie was concluded vpon, then he there would insinu­ate: for which cause he continuallie stood on his guard, spoi­ling all such men as hee thought were abettors of the Bu­shop.

The Bailifes of London, according to their authoritie, séeing matters were growne to such extremitie, kept dili­gent and strong watch, drawing some of the commons from him by faire words, and some by guifts: This notwithstand­ing, William was neuer vnattended. The Councell, who euerie waies were vigilant to roote out this viper from the common weale, what they could not by proues, they aduen­tured by pollicie, animating diuers valiant men with huge promises to marke his manners, and when the occasion was offered, to apprehend him at such time as he little suspected. But long was it yer they either could finde oportunitie, or catch the Fore in his forme: yet at last, when he least suspec­ted, they caught him tardee in Breadstreat, attended onlie by ten or twelue; at which time, they drawing their swordes assailed him valiantlie.

But he, who in all conflicts of Fortune was both confi­dent and couragious, first animated his retinue to the fight, and after that wresting himselfe by maine force out of their hands, he tooke him to flight towards the hart of the Cittie, and ranne int [...] Cheapside. They who were bus [...]ed against his poore followers séeing him fled, gaue ouer fight, and earnest lie pursued him. By this time, the cittie was in an vprore: the poorer sort laboured to rescue William: the Bailifs with the best Cittizens armed them to back the kings officers: so that the cittie was altogither vp in armes. William long beard séeing himselfe hotlie pursued, and knowing no mean to escape, stept to a poore Carpenter who staid in Cheape for worke, and taking his Axe from him, desperatlie assailed his pursuers, and with his owne hands valiantlie siue some of them: but when he perceiued the factions of his enimies to be great, and his friends wel nigh tired, he betooke himselfe at last into Bow church, not for his sanctuarie, but for a bul­warke of his safetie.

[Page] Thither repaired all the poore commons, some with bats, some with spittes, and such weapons as they had, driuing a­waie all the kings officers in despight of their friendes, and determining with themselues rather to dy than to lose their William Long beard amongst the rest Maudline his mini­on knowing that his wracke was hir ruine, came vnto him where wéeping mild teares from hir immodest eies, shee so mollified his marbell heart, that (as some testifie) he was more moued therewith, then with the threats and terrors of his greatest enimies: but sée impietie where it preuaileth, how it worketh? That church which was sacred to praiers, was now made a den of rebels: those places which were re­serued to holie vses, were now soiled with dishonest abuses: where before our Ladie was praied to, lewdnesse was plaid withall. But to bring these causes to their Catastophe, suf­ficeth it that darknes for this time ended the discention, and the comming on of the night, wrought also the conclusion of the fight.

How William with the long beard after long trouble was taken by the kings officers, and executed for his misdemeanors.

NO sooner gan the howers draw forth the bru­nisht chariot of the sun, and the star that beau tifieth the morninges breake, shut vppe her beames in the bowels of the hidden Hemis­phere, but Richard and his councell assertai­ned of that which was happened, comanded the Bailifes of the citie by expresse letters to ferret him out of his hole, and cease the tumultes, by their authorities, for which cause, [...]he Bailifes attended by a bolde troope of men in harnesse came into Cheape. The eldest of whom, being called Gerard de Antiloche, handled himselfe with such gra­uitie, and vsed so effectuall persuasions, that the commons for the most part withdrew them to their owne houses, and after assurance of pardon from his Maiestie, b [...]tooke them to their labour. As for the rest in the Church, when neyther [Page] persuations could allure them, nor threats intenerate their harts, the Bailifes fell to armes, and for the space of foure houres continued a bloudie and desperate fight. But when they perceiued the Traitors were desperate, and the Church was sufficientlie strong to keep them out: they at last found out this worthie pollicie.

They caused some chiefe men to bring them great store of straw, which they f [...]ered in diuers parts about the Church, & in euerie corner whereas the wind might worke the smoake anie entrance, which so smothered and stifeled them in the Church, that they were all of them for the libertie of a shorte time of life, to submit themselues to the iudgement of suc­céeding death. Herevpon, after manie wofull plaints pow­red out on euerie side by William, his Maudline, and other malefactors, they were all inforced to leaue the church, and submit themselues to the hands of the Bailifes, who accor­ding to the kings command, picking out William with nine other his confederats, committed them vnto warde for that time, dismissing the rest vnder the kings generall pardon: whoe certified hereof, was not a little solaced. For which cause, he sent some of his Councel and Iudges the next day who ascending the iudgment seat, called forth William with the Long beard with his confederates, arraigning them of high treason against God, the king and countrey.

Among all the rest, William shewed himselfe most confi­dent: for neither did the ta [...]nts of the Iudges extennuate his courage; neither could the bonds he was laden withall abash him any waies, but that with a manlie looke and inti­cing eloquence, he thus attempted the iustices. You lords and Honorable Iudges, though I knowe it a hard thing to striue against the obstinate, or to extort pittie there, where all compassion is extinguished: yet will I speake, vsing the officer of nature to worke you, although I know I shall not win you. I am here called and indighted before you for hie treason, a hainous crime I confesse it, and worthie punishe­ment, I denie it not; but may it please you with patience to examine circumstances: I haue imboldened the poorer [Page] sort to innonation, to fight for libertie to impugne the rich; a matter in the common weales of Greece highlie com­mended: but héere accounted factions, and whie? there sub­iects made kings, here kings maister subiectes: and why not say you, and whie not think I? yet am I faultie vnder a good president, and the ambition which hath intangled mee, hath not beene without his profit. To offend of obstinate will, were brutish: but vnder some limits of reason to defaulte, can you (my Lords) but thinke it pardonable? I haue rai­sed one or two assemblies, and what of this? peace was not broken, onely my safetie was assured: and were it that the Law had béene iniured, might not the righting of a hundred poore mens causes, merit pardon for two vnlawfull assem­blies? But you will saie, I haue animated subiects against their prince. I confesse it, but vnder a milder title; I haue councelled them to compasse libertie, which (if nature might be equall iudge betwéene vs) I knowe should not be so hai­noustie misconstred.

For my last tumult, I did nothing but in mine owne de­fence: and what is lawfull, if it be not permitted vs, Vim vi repellere? But whie pleade I excuses, knowing the lawes of this Realme admit no one of my constructions? If it be re­solued I must die, doo me this fauour my Lords, to protract no time: execute your iustice on my bodie, and let it not pine long time in feare thorowe supposall of extreames. For my soule, since it is deriued from a more immortall essence, I dare boast the libertie thereof, knowing that eternitie is pre­pared for it, and mercie may attend it. But for these poore ones who haue defaulted thorough no malice, but haue béen misled through vaine suggestions, howe gratious a deede should your honnors do, to exemplifie your mercie on them? poore soules, they haue offended in not offending, and but to enthrone me, haue ouerthrowne themselues: for which cause, if consideration of innocent guiltines, & guiltie innocence may any waies moue you, grant them life, and let me solie enact the tragedie, who am confirmed against all Fortunes tyrannies.

[Page] These latter words were deliuered with so great vehemen­cie of spirit, and attended with so quickening motions and actions of the bodie, that euerie one pittied that so rare ver­tues should be rauished by vntimelie death, or accustomed with so manie vngodlie practises. The Iudges, whoe were Socratical in all their spéeches, shewing their Rhetorique in their vpright iudgements, not quaint discourses; after the examinations, indictments, verdicts of the Iurie, and suche like, at last gaue finall and fatall iudgement: That William with the long beard with his confederates, should the nexte daie be hanged drawne and quartered: and so, after some other worthie exhortations to the people to mainteine peace, and that they should shew themselues more dutifull, and af­ter thanks to the Bailifes and good cittizen for their faithful and good seruice to his Maiestie, the assemblie broke vp, and the prisoners till the next daye were committed to the dun­geon.

No sooner was the gaie mistresse of the daie break prepa­red in hir roseat coatch, powdering the heauens with pur­ple, but the Bailifes repaired to the prison, leading foorthe William and those his other confederates to their execution. Then flocked about them diuers sorts of people, some to sée those who were so much searched after: others to lament him whom they had so loued: at laste arriued at the place where they should finish their daies, & all stood to beholde their death. William, as principall in his life time of seditious practise, was to enact the first and fatall part in the tragedie: for which cause boldlie climing vp the ladder, and hauing the rope fit­lie cast about his neck, after some priuate praiers, he spake after this manner vnto the people: My good countreymen, you are repaired hither to sée a sorie spectacle, to beholde the follie of life paid with the fruits of death, to marke how sini­ster treasons, ende with condigne torments: if you applie what you here see and beholde to your owne profits, I shall be glad, whoe now euen at this my last hower, desire rather you shuld reconcile your selues from all wickednes, then be dismaied ormoued with my wretchednesse.

[Page] Oh my déere friends, I now protest before God, & vowe before men, that mine owne presumptuous climing hath béene the iust cause of my confusion: I haue had more desire of glorie, then respect of God, more regard of dignitie, then of dutie, déeming it better to be a famous Traitor, then a faithfull and true subiect. For which my inestimable sinnes I crie God hartilie mercie, I beseech his Maiestie to forgiue me, and pray you all by your praiers to implore Gods grace for me. Neither deserue I death only for the offence I haue made the king, but my conscience accuseth me, and I heere doo openlie confesse it, that I was he who murthered Antho­nie Browne, in that he was a riuall in my most lewde loue, This, this, if nought else, my countreymen, sufficeth to con­demne me, for this and al I am hartilie sorie. My God, I repent me from my soule, my God. Which said, lifting vp his eies to heauen, he praied a long time verie vehementlie and after manie fruitfull exhortations, finished his life to the comfort of those who wished his soules health. The reste his confederates after their seuerall confessions, were ser­ued with the same sauce, and thus ended the troubles with their tragedies.

Their bodies cut downe, were buried by their friends, and happie was he among the poorer sort that had any thing to inritch the funerall of William Long beard: and notwith­standing his confession at his death, and diuers other eui­dences at his condemnation: yet were there diuers, whoe after his death held him for a saint, casting out slanderous libels against the Archbishop, terming him the bloudsucker of good men. There were manie superstitious women, who in their deuotion were wont to pray to him, and after his death digged vp the ground about the gallowes trée, affir­ming that manie had beene healed of sundrie sicknesses by the touch thereof. All this their idolatrous constructions at first began by reason of a priest, a néere alie to William, who openlie preached, that by vertue of a chaine wherewith Wil­liam was bound, during the time of his imprisonment, ther were diuers men healed of hot feauers, the bloud that fell [Page] from him at such time as he was quartered, they cléerelie scraped vp, leauing nothing that could yéeld any memorie of him, either vnsought or vngotten: But at last the Arch­bishop of Canturburie remedied all these thinges, who firste accursed the Priest that brought vp the fables, and after that caused the place to be watched, where through such idolatrie ceased, and the people were no more seduced. But for that William wrote many notable Poems and translations in the prison, which if you pervse will notifie vnto you his sin­gular wit, I haue thought good to subscribe them, desiring your fauourable censure of them.

William Long beards Epitaph.

VNtimely death and my found fruits of Treason,
My lawlesse lust, my murthers long concealed,
Haue ship wract life amids my Aprill season,
Thus couerd things at last will be reuealed.
A shamefull death my sinfull life succeedeth
And feare of heauenly iudge great terror breedeth.
My mangled members in this graue included,
Haue answered lawes extreames to my confusion,
Oh God let not my murthers be obtruded
Against my soule wrongd through my earthes illusion.
And as the graue my liuelesse limmes containeth,
So take my soule to thee where rest remaineth.
Thou trauailer that treadest on my toombe,
Remembreth thee of my vntimely fall,
Preuent the time forethinke what may become,
See that thy wil be to thy reason thrall,
Scorne worlds delights, esteeme vaine honor small:
So maist yu die with fame, where men of conscience foule
Perish with shame and hazard of their soule.

I haue here vnto annexed likewise some other of his spiri­tuall [Page] hymnes and songs, whereby the vertuous may gather how sweet the fruits be of a reconciled and penitent soule.

The First.
That pitty Lord that earst thy hart inflamed
To enterteine a voluntarie death,
To ransome man by lothed sinnes defamed,
From hel, and those infernal paines beneath:
Vouchsafe, my God, those snares it may vnlose
Wherein this blinded world hath me intrapped:
That whilst I traffique in this world of woes,
My soule no more in lusts may be intrapped.
Great are my faults, O me most wilfull witted:
But if each one were iust, there were no place
To shew thy power that sinnes might be remitted.
Let then O Lord thy mercy quite displace,
The lewd and endlesse sinnes I haue committed,
Trough thine vnspeakeable and endlesse grace.
The Second.
Such darke obscured clouds at once incombred
My mind, my hart, my thoughts from grace retired
With swarmes of sinnes that neuer may be numbred,
That hope of vertue quite in me expired.
When as the Lord of hosts my gratious father,
Bent on my dulled powers his beames of brightnesse,
And my confused spirits in one did gather
Too long ensnard by vanitie and lightnesse.
A perfect zeale (not office of my sences)
So seazde my iudgement smothered in his misse,
That heauen I wisht and loathd this earthly gaile,
My hart disclaimd vile thoughts and vaine pretences.
[Page] And my desires were shut in seemely vaile,
So that I said, Lord, what a world is this?

After such time as he had receiued his iudgement, he grew into this meditation of the miseries of life, which I dare a­now is both worthie the reading and noting, yea euen a­mong the learnedst

The Third.
A shop of shame, a gaine of liue-long griefe,
A heauen for fooles, a hel to perfect wise,
A theater of blames where death is chiefe,
A golden cup where poison hidden lies.
A storme of woes without one calme of quiet,
A hiue that yeeldeth hemlock and no hony,
A boothe of sinne, a death to those that trie it,
A faire where cares are sold withouten mony.
A fleshlieioy, a graue ofrotten bones,
A spring of teares, a let of true delight,
A losse of time, a laborinth of mones,
A pleasing paine, a prison of the sprite,
Is this my life: why cease I then resolued
To pray with Paule and wish to be dissolued?

Thus endeth the life of William Long beard: a glasse for all sorts to looke into, wherein the high minded may learne to know the meane, and corrupt consciences may reade the confusion of their wickednes, let this example serue to with draw the bad minded from Bedlem insolence, and incorage the good to followe godlinesse. So haue I that fruit of my labour which I desire, and God shall haue the glory, to whom be all praise.

FINIS.

Of manie famous pirats, who in times past were Lordes of the Sea.

THere were manie worthie Pirates in our forefathers daies: but among all of greatest reckoning, Dionides was not least, who exercised his lar­cenies in the Leuant Seas in the time of Alexander the great and Da­rius, disdaining either to serue the one, or submit himselfe to the other: yea so resolute was he in his robberies, and dissolute in his life, that he neither spared friend nor sauoured foe, but robd all in generall. Against this man Alexander leuied a great armie, and by strong hand subdued him: and afterward cal­ling him into his presence, he said thus vnto him: Tell me Dionides, whie hast thou treubled all the Seas? to whome he thus replied: Tell me Alexander, whie hast thou ouerrun the whole worlde, and robbed the whole sea? Alexander an­swered him: bicause I am a king, and thou art a Pirat: tru­lie (replied Dionides) D Alexander, both thou and I are of one nature, and the selfe same office: the onelie difference is that I am called a Pyrat for that I assault other men with a little armie, and thou art called a prince, because thou sub­duest and signiorest with a mightic hoast: But if the Gods would be at peace with me, and Fortune should shewe her selfe peruerse towards thée, in such sort as Dionides mighte he Alexander and Alexander Dionides, perhaps I should be a better prince then thou art, and thou a worser Pyrat than I am.

Stilcon for sixtéene yeeres space was a pirat in the Car­pathean Sea, and executed manie great robberies vpon the [Page] Bactrians and highlie infested Rhodes. Against whom king Demetrius leuied an armie, and finallie tooke him: and cal­ling him to his presence saide vnto him. Tellme Stilcon, what harme the Rhodians haue doone thee, that thou so muche indemnifiest them? and wherein haue the Bactrians defaul­ted, that thou haste thus ruinated their Realmes? Stilcon answered, I woulde thou wou'dest tell me Demetrius, what harme my father did vnto thée, that thou commandedst him to be beheaded? or wherein haue I iniured thée, that I am exiled by thy iudgement? I councell thée in this my last ho­wer, and not with the least consideration, that thou perse­cute not, neither pursue any man as much as shou maiest, because it is a matter verie dangerous to deliberate with them of peace, who are desperate both of life and honnor.

Cleonides was a pirat in the daies of king Ptolomey, and scowred the seas for the space of twenty and two yeares, and for seuen of them neuer set foot on land from out his Gallie: This Cleonides was squint cied, and crup shouldred, not vn­worthilie in that manner marked by nature, because euery waie he was most tyranouslie minded against cuerie priso­ner he tooke: he neuer obserued promise, or pittied prisoner: but those enimies he tooke (amongest other millions of tor­ments where with he tyrannized ouer them) he powred hot scalding oile into their fundaments, and set their féet in boi­ling oile, till they were burnte and scorched. Against him, Ptolomey sent out an armie; and hauing taken him, called him before his iudgement seat, and spake vnto him after this mannre: Tell me Cleonides, what barbarous inhumanitie or infernall furie haue instigated thee, to inflict such insuffe­rable torments on those who as thy selfe are men, and being as thy selfe, ought to be pittied by thy selfe? to whom Cleoni­des gaue this churlish answer: It sufficeth not me thou king, to execute my enuie vpon the bodies of those I hate, & whoe haue persecuted me in their life times; but also I resolue to burne their bowels vp, and scalde out their harts wherewith they hated me. Prolomey wondring at his desperate inhu­manitie, gaue him this iudgement: that he should likewise [Page] by little and little be dipped in scalding oile, to the ende hee might tast the selfe same torment where with he had attem­ted manie others.

Chipanda the pirat was a Theban borne, and flourished in the time of Cyrus, a man of high minde, great valour, ge­nerous hart, and vertues hardinesse: for he had vnder his conduct 130. shippes, with which he brought vnder his sub­iection all the kingdomes of the Leuant, and struck continu­all feare into all the heartes of the princes in the West. A­gainst him Cyrus rigged out an armie, by whome his ships were conquered, and himselfe taken captiue: who comming into Cyrus presence, was by him saluted in this manner: Tell me Chipanda, whie forsookest thou my paie, and after­wards submittedst thy selfe to the seruice of the Parthian? to whom he thus answered: The lawes which are made on land binde not those that serue by sea: and those also which we ca­pitulate at Sea, are not accustonied or vsed on lande: and I tell you this O king, because it is an auncient Custome a­mongest vs pirats, so often to alter and change our patrons as often as you shall sée the windes alter and change at the Sea.

Millia the pirat liued in the daies of Dionisius, the first ty­rant in Syracusa, and both of them were highlie at oddes the one with the other: yet in such sort enimies, as they conten­ded not which shoulde exceede one another in goodnesse, but which of them should haue the palme for vngodlinesse: for Dionysius ruinated all Scicily, and Milia sacked all Asia: he vsed this exercise of pyracie more than thirtie yeares, and at last the Rhodians arming themselues against him, took him: and afterwards they bringing him to the place of his execu­tion, he lifted vppe his eies to heauen and said thus: O Nep­tune god and lorde of the seas, whie wilt thou not helpe mee at this houre, who haue sacrificed and drowned flue hundred men in thy waues, and p [...]cemeale cut them in gobbets be­fore thy maiestie? Fortie thousand haue I sent into the bo­wels of the floud, to the end they should inrich the bottome, and thirtie thousand haue died in my shippes thorowe sicke­nesse: [Page] twentie thousande haue perished in my gallies man­fullie fighting: and shall it nowe suffice in that heere I die alone, whoe haue glutted thy vast waters with so many car­cases.

Alcomonius was a pirat at such time as Scilla and Marius flourished (and following the faction of Scilla, was he that tooke Caius Caesar when he fled from Scilla, whom Caesar very often after a pleasant manner assured, that he had delibera­ted to hang him and all his confederates by the neck, and ac­cording to his words accomplished his promise, at such time as he came to the gouernement of the Romaine common-weale. This Alcamonius being readie to die, said; I am lit­tle gréeued for that I lose, and lesse afflicted for the maner of death by which I die: but this is it that vrgeth me, that I fal­len into his hands who was once my prisoner, whome I might haue hanged then, as he now hangeth me.

There were likewise manie other ancient and moderne pirats, whom for that I am studious of breuitie, I in this place willinglie pretermit: It onely suffiseth you, that you consider that no one of them died in his bed, neither made testament of his goodes, but as soone as the fatall houre of their destinies was arriued, they died both defamed vnto the world, and detested for their wickednes.

The Agisincts were famous pirats in the time of Themo­sticles, who turned out a hundred Gallies amongst them, and tooke all of them: and after he had imprisoned and disarmed them, hanged them vp: which act of his caused him to be fa­uoured in Greece, and feared on the sea.

Frauncis Enterolles a famous pirat was borne in Valentia of noble parents and a princelie stocke: This man commit­ted mightie and manie robberies at sea, and in the riuer of Genoua: and finallie, when in the yeare 1491. he had longe time followed a chace, he was by tempest and Fortune dri­uen vpon the Ilande of Corsica, and those wh [...] by chance escaped the daunger and sury of the Seas, incountred death on the land, and were all of them with their capteine Francis hanged by the neck for their piracies, the rest that were left, [Page] were made Gallie slaues, being by the Ilanders surprised in their Gallie: and this was the end of this noble Valentinian.

Monaldo Guecca a famous pirat borne in Nauar, flouri­shed in the yeare 1496. This manne hauing occupied and strengthened himselfe vpon the rocke of Hostia, hindered all the conuey of victuals to Rome after suche a manner, that neither wine nor corne, neither any other march andise could be brought either from the kingdome of Naples from Corsi­ca, or the riuer of Genua vnto the cittie: Against him Pope Alexander sent the great Consaluo; who tooke the rocke, and brought Menaldo bound to Rome vpon a leane Iade in ma­ner of triumph. And it is reported that he went with so con­fident a countenance; that he inforced terror in all those that beheld him, Consaluo, for that he was a Spaniard, got him his pardon, and wrought the Pope to be very bountifull vn­to him.

A true and famous History of Partaritus king of Lombardie, who being pursued by Grimaldo, fled first of all to Cucano king of the Auarior Huns, and then into France, and finallie after manie trauailes was restored to his kingdom with much ma­iestie, wherein the worthy memorie of two faithfull seruants is happilie registred.

PArtaritus was the sonne of Albert kinge of Lombardie, who after the death of his father raigned himselfe in Millan, and Gundibert his brother in Pauia. Betwixt these twoe there grewe a mortall discention, for which cause Gundibert sent Caribald Duke of Turinge to Grimoald duke of Beniuent a most worthy and valiant Cap­teine, requesting his assistance in armes against his Bro­ther, and promising him in rewarde thereof, to bestowe his sister vpon him in mariage. But Garibald vsed Treason against his Lord, animating Grimoald to the enterprise not as an a better, but a conqueror. For (said he) you may easily occupie the kingdome, by reason of the twoe brethren, whoe [Page] through their dissentions haue almoste ruinated the same. Grimoald asserteined her of, made his sonne Duke of Bene­uent: and leuieng a mightie power, set onwards on his way to Pauia, and through euerie Cittie that he passed, he drewe friends vnto him, and won the better sort with benefites, to the end they should assist him toward the attainment of the kingdome: and comming to parlie with Gundibert who (lit­tle suspecting the trecheries which Garibald had complotted, came slenderlie and courtlie accompanied to intertain him) he on sudden slue him, and occupied the kingdome. Partaritus assertained hereof, abandoned Rhodeline his wife and his iit tle sonn, and fled to Cucano king of the Auarior Huns: Grimo­ald confirmed in the kingdome of Pauia, vnderstanding that Partharithus was entertained by Cucano; sent ambassadors vnto him, threatning him, that if he retained Partharithus his enimie in his kingdome, he shoulde be assured to pur­chase of him a mightie enimie, and more, to occasion a pre­sent and dangerous warre.

The king of the Hunns assertained héereof, called Partari­thus vnto him, and said thus: I pray thée, gentle friende, de­part into some other place: for if thou be héere resident, my good will towards thee will occasion great warres againste my selfe. Partharitus vnderstanding the kings mind, retur­ning into Italie, went and sought out Grimoald, reposing his life vpon the good dispositions of his enimie: And drawing neere the Cittie of Lodi, he sent before him one of his faith­full seruants called Vnulfe, who might make manifest to Gri­moald, both how much he trusted him, and what he required at his hands. Vnulfe presenting himselfe before the kinges Maiestie, told him that Partaritus his maister had recourse vnto his clemencie, and sought succour in his court: Grimo­ald admiring his confidence, faithfullie promised him that he might repaire vnto him, vppon the faith of a prince assu­ring him, that before he should be harmed, he would hazard his owne hart.

A little while after when Partharitus presented himselfe be­fore Grimoald, and humblie knéeling on his knées be sought [Page] his fauour, the king pitiouslie and gratiouslie entertained and kissed him, whome in humble manner Partharitus salu­ted thus: mightie Soueraigne, I am thy seruant, who kno­wing that thou art a Christian, doubt not of thy compassion. I might (as thou knowest O king) haue liued among Pa­gans: but what life were that? and howe base confidence were I in rather to trust the faithlesse, then humble my selfe to the faithfull? I beseech thée of mercie, and kissing thy feete craue maintenance. The king according to his maner swe­ring a solemne oath, promised him saieng: By him that be­gat me, since thou hast recourse vnto my faith, I will neuer forsake thée; but I will take order for thee in suche manner, that thou maiest both honestlie and honorablie liue in this countrey. Wherevpon he commanded him to be worthilie lodged, giuing charge that he should be furnished of all ne­cessaries whatsoeuer, vpon his treasurie.

It chanced that Partaritus departing from the king, and re­pairing to his lodging, was suddenlie encountered with a whole troope of Cittizens of Pauia, who came to sée him and salute him, as their sorestemed friend. But sée what great mischiefe procéedeth from an euill and detracting toong? For some malignant flatterers beholding the same, sought out the king, and gaue him to vnderstande, that if he made not Partaritus suddenlie out of the waie, himselfe without all doubt should lose both his kingdome and life: swearing to him, that all the cittie was alreadie addicted to take his part.

Grimoald considering these thoughts, and by his ouermuch credulitie suspecting more then he néeded, suddenlie resol­ued on the death of miserable Partharitus: and calling his councell vnto him ceased not to contriue the meanes howe the innocent might be made awaie. They séeing that daie far spent resolued the déed shoulde be doone, the next morrowe animating the king by good words, who otherwise through feare was almost out of his wits: notwithstanding thorow their perswasions gathering to himselfe more confidence, the better to coulour his intention, hee sent vnto him that [Page] night manie excellent dishes and strong wines, purposing (if it were possible) to make him drunke: assuring himselfe that by the meanes thereof he for that night shoulde haue more care of his sléepe than regard of his safetie.

But see how God helpeth the innocent: for a certein gen­tleman who before time had béene a seruitour in Partharithus fathers court, presenting him with a messe of meate from the king, and leaning downward as if intending reuerence to his Maiestie, tolde him secretlie howe the kinge the next daie had resolued to put him to death. For which cause Parta­ritus suddenlie called his squire, willing him for that night to giue him no other drink but a little water in a siluer cup: knowing this, that if those who presented him in the kings behalfe would request him to carouse to his health, he might easilie doe without intoxicating his braines, drinking onelie water. Those that serued him at the table, seeing Partaritus take his liquor so liuelie, certified the king thereof: who with much ioyfulnesse said, let the drunkerd drinke his fill for this night: but to morrowe yer euer he suspect the banquet, I meane to feast him with his owne bloud.

This saide, he caused his guard to be set the house, fearing and suspecting, least Partaritus should escape him in any sort. The supper being ended, and euerie one hauing taken his leaue, Partharitus thus left alone with Vnulfe his trustie ser­uant and the Page who ordinarilie attended on him to bed, he discouered vnto them howe the king had resolued to kill him: for which cause Vnulfe winding him about the necke with the shéetes of the bedde and laieng the couerlet and a Beares skin vpon his backe, leauing him without capp, as if he were some rusticke or common drudging fellowe, be­gan to driue him out of the chamber, dooing him manie in­iuries and villannies, so that he verie oftentimes fell to the ground.

Grimoalds guard, whoe were appointed vnto the watch, seeing al these outrages, asked Vnulfe what he meant. Why said he, my maisters, this rascal slauehath made me my bed in the chamber of that drunken palliard Partharithus, which [Page] is so full of wine, that he sléepeth as if he were dead without stirring: and this is the cause whie I beat him, and I praye you dooth he not deserue it? They hearing these words, and beléeuing them to be true, did all of them laugh verie harti­lie to heare the tidings, and giuing both of them licence to depart Partaritus hasted to the cittie of Hasti, and from thense went into France, praising God for his happie deliuerie.

As soone as they were gotte awaie, the faithfull page loc­ked the door verie diligentlie, remaining all that night alone in the chamber: and when the messengers of the king came with commission to bring Partaritus to the pallace the nexte daie, they knocked at the doore, whome the page in humble maner saluted, praieng them to haue patience for a while: for (saith he) my Lord being wearie of his last iourney, slee­peth now verie soundlie: The messengers returning to Gri­moald, told him the pages answer: who all inraged, charged them presentlie to bring him to his presence: who repairing againe to the chamber doore, were in like sort once more soli­cited by the page to vse forbearance: but they admitting no delaies, cried out hastilie and hartilie, tut, tut, the droonkard hath now slept enough, and therevpon bearing the doore of the hinges they forceablie entered the chamber, and sought Partaritus in his bed, but found him not: wherevpon they as­ked the page what was become of him, who answered them that he was fled: The messengers all amazed herewith, fu­riouslie laieng hands on the childes bushie lock, and buffe­ting him pitiouslie, brought him to the pallace: and conduc­ting him to the presence of the king, saide, Mightie Prince, Partharitus is fled, and this caitife boy helpt to conuey him: and for that cause meriteth death: Grimoald commanded them to laie hands off him, and willed him with a friendlie countenance to discouer vnto him the manner and meanes how his maister had escaped awaie: The page told him eue­rie thing as it had past; whose faithfulnes when the king had considered vpon, he royallie offered him to make him one of his pages, assuring the lad that if he would be as faithfull to him as he had shewed himselfe towards his old maister, [Page] he should both be rewarded and regarded.

After this, he made search for Vnulfe, who being brought before his presence, was pardoned by him, and not only par­doned, but commended. But as where affection is rooted, there no fauors can supplant it, nor promises suppresse it: so these two louing their maister Partarithus verie deerelie, took no delight but onelie in desire they had to sée and serue him: for which cause a few daies after they repaired to Grimoald, beséeching him of license to séeke out their maister. Whie my friends (quoth he) had you rather séeke out your necessi­ties, then liue with me héere in all pleasures? By God re­plied Vnulfe, I had rather die with Partharithus, than liue in all other worldlie contents and delights. What (saied the king to the page) wilt thou also rather séeke out a bannished man, then serue a king? I my Lorde, saide he: for they are bad seruants that will leaue their maisters in miserie. Gri­moald wondering at their confidence, & praising both their faithes, dismissed both of them with all fauour, giuing them both horsse and money to furnish and further them on theyr iourney.

The two faithfull seruants humblie thanking the kinge, tooke their waie into France, hoping to finde their maister in that place according as was appointed. But Partaritus fearing least by reason of a peace latlie capitulated betwixt Dogobert kinge of France and Grimoald, he shoulde be there surprised suddenlie by some sinister subtletie, tooke shipping for England: and hauing alreadie sailed from the shore, the voice of a man was heard among the rocks, which asked for Partaritus and whither he were in that ship. Whereto when answer was made that there he was, the voice replied, Then will him presentlie repaire vnto his countrey: for Grimoald a three daies hence is departed this life: Partaritus suddenly returned backe, commanding the marriners to reenter the harbour: and as soon as he was landed, he diligently sought out the messenger that had thus informed him: but finding him by no meanes possible, he supposed it to be some messu­age sent from God. For which cause, poasting towards his [Page] countrey, and arriuing amongst the confines of Italie, hee found there a great number of Lombards who expected him, with whom he entered Pauia, and driuing out a little son of Grimoalds from the kingdome; he was by generall con­sent created kinge of Lombardie thrée monethes after the death of Grimoald. For which cause he presentlie sent vnto Beneuent for his wife Rhodolinde, and his sonne Cunibert: And being a godlie Catholike and iust man, a liberall pa­tron of the poore, and father of the innocent: as soone as he hadde quiet possession of the kingdome; in that place from whence he fled, which is on the other side of of Tesinus, he buil ded a monasterie to the honor and glorie of God his sauiour and onelie defender, wherein there were diuers Nunnes in­closed, whom he alwaies enriched with manie very goodlie possessions.

The Quéene likewise builded a church in honour of our Ladie without the cittie wals, adorning it with maruelous rich ornaments: his page and trustie seruant returning to his court, as soon as they had tidinges of his establishment, were by him fauourablie intertained and richlie rewarded. Finallie, after he had reigned eighteene yeares, he departed this life not without the generall lament and teares of the whole inhabitants of Lombardie.

The wonderfull dreame of Aspatia the daughter of Hermoti­mus the Phocencian a verie poore man, who afterwards tho­row hir wonderful vertues, became the wife of Cyrus king of Percia and was afterwards married to Artaxerxes.

ASpatia was the daughter of Hermoti­mus of Phocis, who after the death of hir mother, was brought vp and nou­rished in great pouertie: yet was not hir pouertie so gréeuous, as her continencie was gratious: in her in­fan [...]ie she had vnder hir chin a great swelling, which dis [...]igured hir face, [Page] and was a great disgrace to hir fairenesse. For which cause hir father desirous to haue hir cured, carried hir to a physi­tian, who promised to heale hir for a certeine summe of mo­ney. The good olde man hauing no money, tolde the Phy­sitian of his little meanes, beséeching him to stand fauoura­ble vnto his child: but the greedie wretch which was too well learned in no pennie no Pater noster, told him, that then he had no medicine for him: for which cause the poore Hermoti­mus and his sicklie daughter repared home without succors. Aspatia being thus ill bested, entered hir chamber, and set­ting hir glasse betwéene hir legges, she gased so long inten­tiuelie on hir imperfection, and with so manie tender teares bemoned hir wants, till at last she fell asléepe, where vpon a suddaine she beholde a doue changed suddenlie into a wo­man, which saied vnto hir, Be of good chéere, and leaue these drug-maisters, and goe vnto the dried crowne of Roses vp­on Venus head, and taking some of them beate thou them to powder, and then doo thou but strew them vpon thy grée­uous sore.

Aspatia hauing performed no lesse then was commanded hir in hir vision, was healed and [...] [...]ie faire, and so manie were the graces [...]erwith [...]he [...]hed, that no man could either compare or equall them. She had hir haires glorious and goldlike golden, somewhat daintilie curled, hir eies fierie and christalline, hir nose hooked, hir eares lit­tle, and the coulour of hir face like vnto Roses washed in milke, hir lippes crimosin, hir teeth more white than snow, hir voice was delicious sweete and musicall, hir delightes were estranged from all effemina [...]e newfanglenesse: shée studied not to be rich in apparell (which is but the verie sur­fet of substanc [...]) b [...]cause being nourished in pouertie, shee could not nor would not in anie wise yéelde any art to her beawtie, wanting both the meanes and the manner.

It chanced that this maiden amongest a great manie o­thers was bought by a Baron, who belonged to king Cyrus, who séeing that she was beawtifull and faire, brought hir (af­ter a verie solemne and sumptuous supper) into the presence [Page] of Cyrus, accompanied with thrée other Grecian maids, who were tricked and attired by courtlie dames before h [...]ide, to the end they might know how to entertaine and delight the king; onlie Aspatia would not admit any foile for hir faire, but after many refusals, at last consented to put on a sump­tuous habit, wherein she st [...]de so melancholie and blushing­lie, as if she thought all lookers on vnworthie to beholde hir beawtie: and firing hir fiery eies vpon the ground, she wept bitterlie before Cyrus, who commanded the thrée other Uir­gins to sit downe by him, who were obsequious to his will: but Aspatia fained as though she heard him not when he cal­led hir, vntill the Baron who bought hir, enforced hir to sit by his maiestie.

Cyrus dallieng and beholding the thrée other virgines, commended their countenances, and condemned not their behauiour. But hauing but touched Aspatia with the the tip of his finger, she suddenlie cried out, telling him that shee should be punished if she vsed such licentiousnesse. This her behauior pleased the king, whoe afterward offered to dallie with hir paps, she presentlie flung from him and offered to depart: for which cause Cyrus maruelling at the great mind of Aspatia farre against the custome of Percia, said vnto him that had bought hir, Thou hast onelie brought this mayden vnto me frée, sincere, and without spot: these others are but counterfeits in their customes, and their beawties are but borrowed not naturall.

Here vpon Cyrus affected by this meanes, and earnestlie fixed his loue vpon Aspatia so that he forgat all other fancies, addicting himselfe onlie to hir bed and beawtie. Not longe after, Aspatia called to hir mind the doome she had séen in hir dreame, and the spéeches which were vsed, and in regarde of those benefits she had receiued, she erected a [...]atue of golde in honor of Uenus, and annexed therevnto a doue beawtifi­ed with costlie gems, offering daielie sacri [...]ces to remune­rate the Goddesse kindnesse. She likewise sent vnto her father manie rich Iewels, and made him a man of great au­thoritie. A few daies after a faire and curious Carkanet [Page] was sent out of Theslaly in present to king Cyrus, who reioi­cing greatlie at the same, and finding his Aspatia one daie asléepe, laid him downe by hir, and (after some amorous em­bracings) drewe the carcanet out of a casket and saied vnto hir. How saiest thou my loue, dooth not this iewell become either the daughter or mother of a king? yes my liege saide she: whie then my loue; it shall be thine quoth he: discouer therefore thy neck, and put it on.

Aspatia little respecting the rich guift, reuerentlie & sage­lie replied thus, how should I be so bold to submit my necke vnto that gift, which is a present more conuenient for Parisa­tides thy mother? Giue it hir my Lorde, and I am readie to shew you my neck without any such ornaments. Cyrus re­ioysing at hir answer, kissed hir, and hauing written all the manner of discourse which had past twixt him and Aspatia, he sent the same with the carcanet vnto his mother. Parisatide no lesse delighted with the letter than the carcanet, renume­rated Aspatia with rich gifts and royall presents, and concei­uing a gratious opinion in that Aspatia gaue hir place, shee euer after loued hir and presented hir both with the carcanet and much other treasure. Aspatia humblie receiuing hir in­estimable curtesies, sent both the iewell and treasure to Cy­rus with this message: These for a time will helpe thee, and for that thou art mine ornament, meseeme [...]h I haue obtay­ned a great gift, if as I both should and woulde, I heartelie loue thee.

Cyrus was amazed at this deed, and not without reason, because this woman had no meane minde, but the courage of a great and magnificent princesse. But when Cyrus was slaine in the warre which he waged againste his brother, As­patia remained prisoner: notwithstandinge sought out, and at the last found by the noble Artaxerxes, she was deliuered of hir bonds, & such as had captiuated hir, were committed themselues. Finallie, being richlie apparailed like a Prin­cesse (although by reason of the deth of Cyrus she made great resistance, Artaxerxes being vehementlie enamored of her beawtie, after long intreatie and comforts, at last won her [Page] consent and married hir: yet as some writers testifie, the in tire affection she bare hir last husband, was neuer extingui­shed vntill she died.

A wonderous reuenge executed by Megallo Lercato of Genoua vpon the mightie Emperour of Trabisonda.

AT such time as the Genowaies weare Lords of certeine citties in the Leuāt it chanced that amongest other Citti­zens whoe traffiqued in Caffa, & were most familiar with the Emperour of Trabisond, there was one called Me­gollo Lercato, whoe by reason of his rare quallities, was excéedinglie fa­uoured by him: for which cause he was gréeuouslie enuied, and hated by the principall courteors, whoe ceased not conti­nuallie to inuent new meanes & waies whereby they might bring him in disgrace. It fortuned that sporting himselfe one daie at the game of chesse with a yoong Noble man who was greatlie beloued by the Emperor, they fell at wordes and bitter vpbraides: amongst all others, the yong Noble vttering certeine speeches in contempt of the name of Ge­nowaies, Megollo was inforced to giue him the lie: but see­the other little moued the rewith, his countrey dishonoured, and the court laughing at him, he sought his remedie at the Emperors hands, from whom he could get no redresse in re­paire of his honor.

For which cause Megollo hotlie discontent (though for a purpose he smothered his displeasures a space) a fewe daies after vpon a lawfull cause tooke occasion to craue the Empe­rours licence, and departing to Genua altogither inflamed to reuenge, he furnished himselfe by meanes of some pa­rents and friends, and rigging out two warlike Gallies, he sailed with them into the great sea, and there indeuored him selfe to spoile all the coast and ransacke euerie shippe belon­ging to the Emperour: whomesoeuer hee tooke, in waie of [Page] great disdaine he cut off their noses and eares, and though there were manie ships set out against him, yet in spight of all he neuer desisted from endangering him: and this might he the better performe, in that his ships were verie swifts: and when he found himselfe at any disaduantage, he coulde both leaue and take how and when it pleased him. It chan­ced amongst manie other preparations that were set out to intrap him; foure stout. Gallies were rigged, who vpon con­sultation as soone as they had discouered him, deuided them­selues apart, thinking to inclose him in the midst of them, & so all at once to assaile him. Megollo that quicklie percei­ued their pollicie, suddenlie fained to flie: whom when their swiftest Gallie had long time pursued, and ouer-wrought all hir consorts, Megollo made hed againste them, and slewe them, and serued them all after the same sauce, to the woon­derfull amaze and discontent of the Emperor.

Amongest one of these Gallies, there was an olde man wish his two sonnes, whoe fearing the like fortune which had befalne others, should light on him and his sonnes, humblie prostrating himselfe at Megollos féet, he humblie intreated him for mercie: The old mannes teares were gratious, and had such power ouer the generous mind of Megollo; that he forgaue both him and his sonns with the rest that were aliue in his Gallie, and sent him back vnto the Emperor with a vessell full of Eares and Noses, willing the olde man to let the Emperor vnderstand that he would neuer cease to in­demnifie him, vntill such time as he hadde sent vnto him the man who had so disdainfullie and dishonorablie iniured him in his court.

The Emperor asserteined hereof, determined with him­selfe as the lesser euill, to go himselfe in person vnto the sea, and carrie with him (as he did) the yong man, who had occa­sioned all this trouble: Megollo hearing thereof, thrust his Gallies néerer the shore: when as the Emperor presently in a light boat sent him the yoong Noble with a rope about his necke: whoe hauing his eies proude with teares, humbled himselfe at Megollos féet, beséeching mercy: Megollo com­passionate [Page] therewith, bad him get him thence, telling him that it was not the fashion of the Genowaies to tyrannize o­uer effeminate milksops.

The parents of the yong man seeing him returne againe beyond their expectation, receiued him wish great ioye: di­uers offers were made by the Emperor to Megollo, who re­fusing them all returned this answer: That he came thither not for desire of riches but for honors sake, and to eternise the name of the Genowaies, admitting no other couenantes but this, that in memorie of those his actions, a pallace shuld be reared in Trabisond for the commodity of the Genowaies, wherein he would that by a curious hand and cunning work man those his actions shoulde be eternized: which being af­terwards fullie obserued by the Emperor, they whoe traffi­qued there followe their marchandize with more honor then they were accustomed. Megollo after this worthie acte re­turned home to Genoua, where he was receiued and gratifi­ed with great honors by the Cittizens.

The memorable deeds of Ualasca a Lady of Bohemia, whoe causing all other Ladies to kill their husbands, Brethren, and sonnes, raigned seuen yeares in Bohemia.

I Read in the Bohemian historie writ­ten by Pope Pius, that this Valasca of whom I héere meane to intreate, was a woman of great mind, bolde in all attempts, and highlie fauored by Fortune: and to the end you may the better vnderstand hir historie, I will first of all begin with hir cause of hatred. You haue therefore to consider, that Crocus second Duke of Bohemia dieng without issue male, his daughter Libussa (held in those daies in as great account as one of the Sibils) with the fauour of the people, and good liking of the better sort, was placed in hir fathers seate, and gouerned that Prouince manie yeares, with the generall good liking [Page] of all men. Finallie, hauing giuen a iust sentence in right of certeine possessions against a mightie man in that coun­trey, he being there with incensed, prouoked vp the people against hir, saieng that it was an oprobrious & scandalous thing for such a people as they were, and so great a Nobilitie as was resident in that place, to suffer the kingdome & cau­ses of iustice to be vnder a woman.

Libussa hauing intreated silence at their hands for a time, said vnto them that she knew their new desire, and was not ignorant of their firme determination, disabling her selfe to satisfie their expectations, praieng them to assemble the next daie; which, according as she willed them they perfourmed. The morning began noe sooner to pushe forth his blushinge beawties, but the people repaired to the iudgement seat in great multitudes: and as soone as the pallace was filled e­uerie waies by them, Libussa began to speake vnto them on this maner: You know (Bohemians) that to this present day I haue beene your peaceable and bountifull Ladie according to womens custome, whoe are audatious in nothing but in offering curtesies. Hitherto haue I not béene offensiue to any of you, either chargeable by reason of Pompe, shewing my selfe rather a mother vnto you, then a mistresse: but in­gratefullie, vnkind men as you are, requite you my gouern ment. But at these your actions woonder not I at all, be­cause you accustome your selues to the common fashions of men, who are neuer content, but are more skilfull to desire a iust and mercifull Lord, then hauing him they haue know­ledge to kéepe him.

As touching mine owne title, I wholie surrender it into your hands: and as you haue desired one who shal gouerne you, and order your lawes as he list; so am I contented you shall haue him. Therefore go ye and take me a white horsse, and bridle him with all his other apparell and ornamentes, and afterwards lead him to such a plaine where he may take that waie which best likes him. Which doone, let him trot as he list, and follow you him by his footsteps: as he turnes, so turne you: and as he returneth, so returne you: finallie, [Page] when you shall see him staie before a man that foede [...]h at an iron table, then assure your selues he is the man forpointed to be my husband, and your prince. This his speeche pleased them all: so that taking with them the horsie as Libussa had instructed them, they let him freelie goe and followed him. But scarselie had they trauelled ten miles, when as the horse staied at a riuer called Bieli, and arrested himselfe before a countrey fellow called Primislaus: shewing manie signes of humanitie and obseruance toward him.

The Bohemians, as well the nobles as commons, behoul­ding this, ran with all hast vnto him, and after their saluta­tions said thus vnto him: Mount vppon this horsse, and goe with vs: Libussa hath chosen thée for his husband, and the Bo­hemians admit thee for their prince: Primislaus, although he were a poore countrey clowne, not incapeable of the gene­rall desire of rule which attainteth all men, gaue vnto them a homelie salutation after his manner, and tolde them that he was addressed to doo whatsoeuer pleased them: and vnder standing that he was to goe to Libussa (as if hee had a longe voiage to make, he fastened his bottle to his saddle bow, and grasping his bread and chéese in his hand he rode on féeding like a rusticke king, which was a verie sufficient euidence of that which Libussa before time had declared and told vnto them.

As soone as his guttes were full and his bottle emptied, he mended his pace, and they conducted him with great pomp and honnour into the cittie, where he tooke Libussa to wife, and during all his life time was wholie ruled and gouerned by hir counsels and perswasions. But after she had submit­ted hir selfe to the destinies, the gouernment remained who­lie in Primislaus hands, and the authoritie of Ladies ceased, which euen vnto that hower was both maintained and aug­mented by Libussa. After this, Valasca (which whilst Libussa liued was hir secretarie) being a Ladie of great valour and no lesse resolution then an Amazon, not induring or abiding that the authoritie of women should be thus annihilated, as­sembling one daie in a priuie place all those that were of her [Page] faction, she said thus vnto them:

My sisters, we haue lost our good Ladie, who alwaies de­fended vs from the outrages of men, neither could she euer endure that we should be ouer borne by them, so that she her selfe h [...]ld the Emperie, and we wish hir were in respect held and accounted for Queenes. You see now, how inforced we indure a hard and miserable seruitude, liuing vnder the go­uernment of our husbands after the maner of slaues, except of our selues we shall gather head and courage to recouer our former liberties. Wherefore, if your thoughtes be as mine is, let vs ioine like heroick Ladies, and we will easily recouer our estates. I (as you know) was secretarie vnto Libussa, of whom I learned that which she knew: I am skil­full in inchantments, and the nature of hearbes is not vn­knowne vntome: if therfore you haue any meaning or will to followe me, assure your selues, that you shall be once a­gaine lords ouer men.

Upon these words, the whole assemblie of women condis­cended to Valascas words, and mutuallie conspired against men. During this time, Primislaus dreamed one night, that a virgine gaue him bloud to drinke: for which cause he being a notable soothsaier, and willing to preuent a mischiefe which (as he imagined) might verie easilie be impugned, hee con­uocated all the chiefe nobles of his Prouince, vnder intenti­on to prohibit the ouer-great licence and libertie which wo­men had in the common weale: namelie, the women were accustomed to ride and run the race on horssebacke, to tour­nay, shoote, and followe the chace, and brieflie to exercise themselues in all warlike discipline, which (as he thought) were matters manageable by men, and vnfit tasks for wo­men. But the Barons scoffed at him when he told them ther of, and said, that they rather deserued loue and reuerence for their agilitie and hardines, then reproofe and dishonor.

Valasca meane while desisied not neither daie nor night to exhort hir confederates, and often with drinks & inchat­ments turned away their affections from the loue of men, and daie by daie drewe more and more into this her League [Page] of conspiracie. Finallie, when she perceiued that she hadde gathered a sufficient power both of married wiues & maids, in one night she caused euerie one of hir faction to kill their fathers, husbands, brethren, and sonnes in their beddes, and afterwards taking armes, with great expedition, they all of them marched togither to a place appointed them by Ve­lasca, not farre distant from Prage, and subduing some that had them in chace, they made a roade to Vissigrade whereas Primislaus aboad, intending there to surprise him: but séeing they could not take the fortresse, they retired themselues into a mountaine, a place naturallie impregnable, and there building a castle, they called it Deiuizo that is, the place of virgines, bicause that in their toonge a virgine is called Deiuize.

This action of theirs seemed abhominable to all the inha­bitants of the countrey, as wel in respect of the great slaugh ter they had made, as also because they had a great suspition of further mischéefe, for which cause they generallie gaue Pri­mislaus to vnderstand, that they were addrest to bidde these new Amazons battell, and that, if it pleased him to marche forward with his hoast, they also were in a readinesse to fol­low him. The K. certified them, that at that present he could not come, by reason that the Gods had admonished him, that all those who were addicted to indemnifie the virgines, were to die; certifieng them that it was behouefull to go another time. But they, who set light by his counsell, leuieng by them selues a great armie, marched toward Deiuizo and striking battell with Valasco, were ignominiouslie ouerthrowne and put to flight with the slaughter of the greater part of the ar­mie: and whereas in this seruice Malada, Nodea, Sua [...]acia, Vorasta, Ragda, Zastana and Tristana, had behaued themselues valiantlie; in rewarde of their seruice they had co [...]ars and chaines of golde giuen them: and amidst that vnmeasurea­ble pray which they had, euerie one was rewarded acording to their desart.

Valasca slue with hir owne hand seuen of hir enimies, and after that time was held and estéemed for a goddesse, so that [Page] neuer a [...]ter that time the Bohemians had the courage to tro­ble or molest them: But they euerie daie ranged about the confines, spoiling, robbing, and burning, and daie by day in­forced greater dread and feare in the harts of their enimies: and being now Ladies and soueraignes of the better part of Bohemia, they were constrained to haue the companie of men, by reason that other wise by course of time and warres they were likelie to be reduced and brought to nothing: for which cause, marrieng themselues they made a lawe, that those maidens who were borne by them should with all dilli­gence bee tenderlie and carefullie brought vppe: as for the males, they commanded that their right eies should be pul­led out, and their middle fingers cut off, to the ende, that ha­uing attained Mans estate they should be disabled to shoote in the bowe, or to handle warlike weapons.

Finallie, Velasca hauing afflicted Bohemia for the space of seuen yeares, and made them altogither tributarie, was deceiued by Primislaus, whoe wrote hir a letter that the Ba­rons against his will had attempted hir with war, and that he was greatlie pleased that they had [...]ceiued condigne pu­nishment for their in solence: assuring hir, that he hadde al­waies held hir in place of his daughter, not onlie for that she had béene secretarie to his wife, and well thought of by her, but for that she knew so well to gouerne so great a state as Bohemia was for the space of seuen yeares. And moreouer, that now since he felt himselfe olde and vnable to gouerne his subiects; on the other side, his sonne too yoong in yeares for so waightie a credit, that his will was to render into her hands the fortresses, so that by this meanes at one time he would yéeld all Bohemia into hir hands, referring the estate of his sonne and heire, to hir kindnesse and curtesie, conten­ting himselfe to returne vnto his first estate, and liue satisfi­ed in the towne from whence perforce they had taken him, and afterward vnwillinglie crowned him. And him séemed as he wrote, that it should so be, that as from a ladies hands he receiued the thre [...]e, so to a ladies hands he might return the title. [Page] This letter written and sent vnto hir, wonne such credit with hir, that presentlie she sent before hir a squadron of hir best Amazons to receiue the fortresses, whoe were brought into the lande with great solemnitie, and entertained in the Dukes owne pallace: but whilst thee were at the table, they were all slaine by a troope of armed men, whoe were hidden for that purpose. They hauing flaine these, ran to Deiuizo with a great armie, & Valasca hauing notice of the strange accident, issued hir selfe smallie vnattended and cloased in glittering armes, and mounted vppon a verie braue and lu­stie courser, that lightened fire from his nostrils, shee was followed by some few a farre off, whilst hir selfe solie incoun­tred the whole hoast that came against hir, and without anie word speaking she laied about hir like a Lionesse or a Libian Tygre in his great furie. Finallie, failing in the midst and thickest of hir enimies, she died valiantlie.

Hir companions a farre of as soone as they vnderstood of the death of their princesse, not vnder anie hope to con­quer, but stimulated to worke reuenge, fell to armes: be­twixt whom and the Bohemians was a most bloudie and des­perate fight: but the Ladies at last hauing the worst, were inforced to flie, whom the Vissegradians following, entered togither with them into their Castle, and hauing caused the gates to be shut, and being Lordes of the fortresse, they cut all the poore women to peeces. And thus was Bohemia de­liuered from the tyrannie and thraldome of women: And Velasca, being worthie to be eternized amongst the Ladies of most famous memorie, laie vnburied, and serued for a prey for birds and beasts to féed vpon.

An excellent example of continence in Frauncis Sforza.

AMongst all other I will not preter­mit a singular example of continence in Francis Sforza, whoe deserued in this action of his to be compared with Alexander the great, and Scipio the noble: Cassanoua a castle of Luke be ing forciblie surprised by Erle Fran­cis. There were certaine souldiours who tooke a faire and tender yoong damosell prisoner, whoe whilst they forceablie drew hir from out the house, wéepingly besought them to present hir to the earle Francis Sforza and to no other, so that they whoe had outraged hir, fearing the displeasure of the countie; suddainlie presented hir vnto him.

At that time Francis by reason of his yoong yeares, and the sound complection of his bodie, was verie proane and addic­ted to wanton and effeminate pastimes: and although hee were inueigled by the tender yeares and excéeding beautie of the maiden, notwithstanding he inquired of hir whither she had rather consent vnto euerie pleasure wherin he might imploy hir, or remaine in their handes whoe had first taken hir. Whom she thus answered, that she would be alwaies readie to obay him, so that it might please him to set hir frée from the handes of base iniurie. Where vpon Francis pre­sentlie commanded that she should be conducted vnto his pa­uilion. When night came, and before he entered the bed, he asked the maiden againe, if she were of the same minde, or whether she had changed hir purpose. Who answered him that she continued resolued, then he willed that she shoulde disrobe and vncloath hir bodie, and so to laie hir selfe downe by him.

But no sooner was she entred bed, but she espied the pic­ture of our Ladie painted after the maner, wheron turning [Page] towards the Earle she wept and with all reuerence & sham­fastnesse she saied vnto him: O my Lorde I pray thee for that vnspotted virgines sake, whose image is in our sight, vouchsafe to be the protector of my virginitie, and thorough thy clemencie grant that without stain or dishonour I may returne vnto my betrothed spouse, who liueth a desperat and desolate life amongest the other captiues. And whereas I promised thee to submit my selfe to thy will, no other thinge moued me there vnto, then the desire I hadde to deliuer my selfe from the hands of those who rauished me: and not that alone, but the iustice and pietie I haue heard of thee, made me conceaue a great hope to submit to him who had so great vertues to command.

These words had so great power in the mercifull and ge­nerous mind of the Captaine, that they extinguished in him all heat of vaine desires, so that of his owne proper charges he rescued the husband and redéemed him from shraldome, restoring the yoong virgine vnto him as soone as he came in to his presence. Hir spouse knéeling vppon his knees, and sighing bitterlie, said; My Lord thou dooest fullie answere the great expectation and fame which through euerie part is dispersed by thee, so that there is no land nor no péere in the world that either may match thee for humanitie, or conquer thee in clemencie. Almightie God, who may requite thée in our behalfe, yeeld thee condigne fauours for thy vertue: The Countie would haue giuen him manie thinges of that praie that he had taken, but the yong maiden would accept no­thing, saieng that the neighbours séeing such gifts, woulde thinke and imagine that it were the price of hir virginitie that she had lost, and so by that meanes she shoulde fall into verie great infamie, which she euer rather chose to flie than death, wherevpon Frauncis Sforze dismissing them, they ioy fullie returned into their countrey.

Of many learned men ancient and moderne, who violently and infortunatelie ended their daies.

THemostocles the Athenian slue him­selfe. Lucretius the Philosopher died the selfesame death, and Gallus (as learned as both they) was murthe­red by his owne handes: Pliny was smothered by fire in the mountaine Aetna. Besides all these, manie o­ther neuer seconded in science peri­shed sinisterlie. Thales the Milesian died for thirste, Zeno was slaine by the commandement of the Tyrant Phalaris. Anaxarchus by the iudgement of Nicocreon finished his life with manie tortures. Archimedes the Philosopher an excel­lent Mathematisian was slaine by Marcellus souldiers: Py­thagoras with his threescore schollers was put to the sworde. Anacharsis died suddenlie. Diodorus burst thorough harts gréefe, by reason he could not answer a question which Stil­bo the Philosopher had propounded him. Aristotle after he had lost the fauour of Alexander, being in Calcide, drowned himselfe in the floud Euripus. Calistines his scholler was cast hedlong out of a window. Marcus Tullius had his ears and hands cut off, and set vp in the publike place where the Drators declaimed.

Seneca was put to death by his scholler Nero, whoe had first caused his vaines to be opened in a bathe of hot water. Iohannes Scotus reading in England, by a sudden conspira­cie of his schollers was with his best fauorites put to death, but if I should vndertake to repeat all the haplesse endes of these ancients whoe were excellent in learning, it were too long for me to write, or you to read. For which cause I will begin to let you vnderstand the death of some moderne lear­ned. Petrach died suddenlie, Domitius Caldarinus perished through the sicknesse of the plague. Consiliator was burned aliue. Angelus Politianus finished his daies by hauing his [Page] braines dasht out against a wall. Peter Leo of Spoletum was drowned in a ditch, the Lorde Francis Pico was slaine by his tenants. Fisher and Thomas Moore were beheded, Cranmer and Latimer burned, the rest since fresh in memo­rie I néed not to trouble you with: I onelie set these down for the learned to consider vppon and examine themselues by circumstances, & cunninglie canuase in their conscience an argument a comparatis.

Howe kinge Rodorigo the last of the Royall house of the Gothes, lost his kingdome and life thorough his incontinence.

IN the yeare 712. Roderigo raigned in Spaine, who earnestlie enamored of a daughter of Iulians Countie of Cantabre, and desirous to gather the fruite of his loue because otherwise he might not in that the maiden was verie honest and vertuous, he sent hir father embassadour into France, & by that oportunitie enforcing hir, he satisfied his lewd and dissolute lust. Iulian returning in­to Spaine, and vnderstanding the heauie case and estate of his daughter, made shew before the king that he was vtter­lie ignorant thereof, and after a few daies he fled into Affri­ca with all his familie: taking vppe his house in the cittie of Lepte: and seeking out Muca the gouernour of Affrica hee tolde him of the outrage doone him by the king, and howe for that cause he was come vnto him. First to offer him a great rich, and faire empire: next, to profer him his seruice: and moreouer said he, the time is come to reuenge the Arabians which were slain a few yeares past in the hoast of king Bam­ba. To the performance whereof I will backe you with the greater part of the Lords of Spaine, whoe will be readie to assist you in this enterprise, bycause the king is deadlie ha­ted of them, both for his crueltie and lawlesse corruption.

[Page] Muca sent him vnto king Mulit in Arabia, whoe hearing Iulianos purpose, dispatched him with letters to Muca wher in he wrote that he should fauour him with all reasonable helpes. Muca gaue him an hundreth horsse and foure hun­dreth men on foote, vnder the conduct of a famous captaine called Tariffe: with this power they passed the Seas, & lan­ded in Spaine: and to the end they might the more secure­lie beard the enimie, they builded a cittie which they called by the name of Tariffe captaine of the Barbarians. And as­soone as Iulio had giuen notice to his confederates for what occasion he was come, & what desire he had to reuenge him of the iniurie doone vnto him by the king, many of them v­nited themselues with the Arabians, and ouerran al the con­trey of Algazera which the said Iuliano had in gouernement vnder the said king.

The Arabians of Africa séeing the great progresse and for­tune the countie had, and assured of his faith, sent him twelu thousand horsse, and a great multitude of footmen, by reason that they had intelligence that the king had sent against him his cosin Ignicus with a huge host, who fighting many times vnhappilie with the Moores, at the last was himselfe slaine, & all his followers cut in péeces: wherevpon the Moores being rid of this impediment, ouerran and spoiled a great parte of Spaine. For which cause the king leuied a greater army than the first, and comming himselfe to wage the fight with the Moores, there fell a terrible and dreadfull battell betwéene both the armies, which continued eight continuall daies, saue onlie the intermission of night, but by reason of the rebellion of the two late kings sonnes called Detifa the king had the worst and perished in the field with many other valiant per­sons: and the Moores like couragious victors possessed the spoiles. This defeat was on sunday being the xi. of Septē ­ber in the yeare 719 The Moores attaining victorie, had the dominion of Spaine.

Of many famous men whoe leauing the gouernement of the Commonweale gaue themselues ouer to a priuate life.

CAto the Censor was the most vertu­ous and best reputed Romaine that flourished in that time: for during al the daies of his life, there was neuer man that saw him commit anie light action, neither lose or diminishe any one inch of his seuere grauitie. This man after he had liued fifty and eight yeares, leauing the trauailes of the common wealth, went and spent the remnant of his life in the kingdome of Na­ples in a village called at that daie Picenio, and in this time Pozzuolo liuing vpon his owne liuelihoods and reuenews: And whilest thus this good and vertuous Cato liued seque­stred from all others, sometimes reading his bookes, some other times trimming his vines, there was one of his nei­bours who wrote vpon his gate with a coale, O fortunat Ca­to thou only amongst al others knowst how to liue in this world. Lucullus the Consul and Romaine captaine remained in the Parthian warres, and continued the same for the tearme of sixteene yeares: in which he acquired much honor to Rome, many laudes for the common weale, much fame for himself, and as great riches for his house. This man, after he retur­ned from Asia to Rome, and found the commonweale alto­gither swarming with dissentions by reason of the factions of Scilla and Marius, purposed with himselfe to leaue Rome and to build him a certaine place of pleasure néere Naples, vpon the riuer of the sea at this daie called Castello di Lu­po, in which place he reposed ten yeares: entitled to all kind of pleasures and quietnesse of mind, frée from all trauailes and troubles, till suche time as he finished his wearied age with a contented and worthie death.

Dioclesian, after he had gouerned Rome and the emperie for the space of eighteene yeares, vtterlie refusing all the [Page] Empire, departed Rome, and repaired to Salona in Dalma­tia where he was borne. But two yeares after that he had refused the Romain empire, an honourable embassage was sent by the Senate vnto him, praieng him earnestlie that he would haue pitie on the commons, and content himselfe to returne to Rome. It chanced that at such time as the said Embassadors came into his poore and homelie cottage, hee himselfe was in a little garden he had, setting of Lettises and diuers other hearbes; and assoone as he had heard the discourse of that they were to deliuer him, he returned them this answer: Séemeth it a requisite matter vnto you my freendes, that he who hath planted, cut, and watered lettice as these be, should leaue them to seeke royalties, and not to eate them in repose and quiet in his owne house? yes my friends, it is better eating these in quiet, then gouerning of Rome with care.

Moreouer he said vnto them, Now haue I proued howe much it auaileth to commande, and howe healthfull it is to plough and dig. Leaue me therfore, I pray you, in my house: for why, I rather desire to get my liuing in this village with my handes, than to haue the charge of the Romaine empire accompanied with hate. Porides the Athenian hauing in great iustice gouerned his common weale for the space of sixe and thirtie yeares, at laste growing olde and fatiate of publike affaires, departing Athens he went vnto a certein Lordship of his left him by his auncestors in a certeine vil­lage without the cittie; in which plieng his booke by night, and labouring his fields by day he liued fiftéene years more; Aboue the doores of his house these words were written.

In veni portum: spes & fortuna, valete
Nil mihi vobiscum est, ludite nunc alios.

Scipio the Affrican was one of the best beloued and hono­red captaines that euer Rome had: for in the space of sixe and twentie yeares wherein he continued warre in Spaine, in Affrica and Asia, he neuer committed anye dishonost acti­on, neither lost any battell: he neuer denied any man Iu­stice, neither was there euer one obscure or base thought [Page] knowne in him: he subingated Africa, ruinated Carthage, ouercame Hannibal, destroied Nununtia, and also restored Rome, which after the battell of Cannas was almost forsa­ken and abandoned. This man in the two and fiftie yeare of his age departed Rome, and retired himselfe vnto a little farme of his which was betwixt Pozzuolo and Capua, in which (as Seneca witnesseth) he had no other reuenewes but certeine fields wherein he liued, a house wherein he ledged, a barne wherein he bathed, and one of his Nephues who ser­ued him: And with so great affection retired hee himselfe to the farme house, that for eleuen yeares space which he li­ues, he went not once to Capua or set foot towardes Rome. All these excellent men of whom we haue spoken, with ma­nie infinite others also, left their kingdomes, Consulships, gouernments, citties, pallaces, fauourites, cares and rit­ches for no other intent, but a quiet life: intending after worldlie affaires to reconcile themselues to a more straight order, hauing respect to that which insueth after death.

A most subtill dispute made in Antioch in the presence of king Ptolomey, by seuen seuerall Ambassadors which of their Common-weales had the best lawes and most notable Customes.

PLutarch writeth in his booke De exi­lio, that king Ptolomey being in An­tiochus, there were vpon an appoin­ted day at dinner with him manie embassadors from the Romaines, Carthagenians, Scicilians, Rhodians, Athenians, Lacedemonians, and Scici­lians: whoe falling into disputation amongst themselues, euerie one began to praise and extoll their countries Lawes and customes, as the best and moste exquisite.

The dispute was handled with great feruencie betwéene [Page] them, and with manie reasons each one endeuoured him­selfe to dignifie his state: for which cause Ptolomey dest­rous to know the truth, and to bring all contentions and discords to an exigent, commanded them that euerie one should write or speake their customes or perfect Lawes which they had in their common weales: for by that means it might be easilie iudged, which prouince best deserued the Palme of iustice.

The Embassadors of Rome began and said, We hold our Temples in wonderous great honor and reuerence, we yeeld great obseruance to our gouernors and rulers, we gréeuouslie punish the wicked offenders and malefac­tors.

The Embassadors of Carthage saied, in the Common-weale of Carthage, the nobles cease not to fight, the com­mons and mechanicall persons to labour, the Philosofers and learned to instruct.

They of Scicilie said, In our lande we obserue intire iu­stice, we traffique with vpright conscience, and generallie imbrace equalitie.

They of Rhodes said, In our common weale the olde people are honest, the yonger sorte shamefast, the Ladies and women solitarie and silent.

The Athenian Embassadors said: In our common weal the rich are not permitted nor allowed to be partiall; the poore to be idle; neither those that gouerne, are suffered to be ignorant.

The Lacedemonians said, in our State, enuie raigneth not, because all are egall: nor auarice because our goodes are in common: nor any suffred to be idle, but euerie one doth labour.

The Scicionians saied, In our common weale, we per­mit nor maintaine any trauailer, least returning home againe he shoulde bring vs matters of noueltie, neither admit we Physitians, who spoile and kill the whole nor [Page] Orators, who maintaine publike contentions.

Assoone as Ptolomey had heard all the seuen Ambassa­dors, he praised all their common weales, saieng: that they were iustlie and worthilie gouerned, commendinge their customes and holding their lawes praise worthie: where vpon with great honors euerie one returned to his lodging, glorifieng and reioycing in their credit, and sa­tisfied in his iustice.

Strange Lawes of Tirzus the Tyrant where-through he withstood Conspiracies.

TRizus the Tyrant indeuouring to preuent the coniurations and tre­sons which might be imagined and wrought against him by his citti­zens: forbad them by an especiall and prescript law, to surcease their priuate and publike conferences, tyranizing aswell ouer their toongs as their tresure. But his cittizens enuieng and hating this his commandements, kept their consultations by becks, gestures, and eager countenances when they were agrée­ued, and smiling and pleasant lookes when they were con­tented: if dangers threatned them they frowned, if For­tune fawned they were not froward: by this meanes ex­pressing and shewing the affections of their minds, and de luding the pollicie of the tyrant.

Tirzus séeing and beholding this varietie in the faces of his cittizens, began to feare, and for that cause forbad them such like significatiue and mute consult: whervpon, one of his cittizens amongst the rest, repining at his ty­rannie [Page] inuented a new meanes: and entering the pallace with other friends, wept and cried out verie bitterlie. The Tyrant vnderstanding héereof, hasted him with some of his guard, to depriue the eies of their naturall libertie, in like manner as he had reduced the toong and gestures in­to seruitude, but the people amazedlie hating his inso­lence, drew the weapons out of the hands of his guard, and murthered both him and all his followres.

FINIS.

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