A sixth booke to the Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia. VVritten by R.B. esq

A sixth booke to the Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia. VVritten by R.B. esq

Table of contents

Title page

To THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE, THE truely vertuous and learned La: the Viscountesse of Falkland.

To THE READER.

§

To HIS ENTIRELY BELOVED Kinseman the AVTHOR.

Another by the same.

To his approved friend the Author.

An Accrostick Sonnet. To his worthy and deerly beloved friend the AVTHOR

By the same.

A SIXTH BOOKE TO THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.

The Eclogves.

§

Directions to a Painter to draw his Mistri•.

The description of a Tempest.

To his neere kinswoman.

On her lipps.

He showes his Mistris how he came to love her before he saw her.

On the beauteous black Ophelia

A Farewell.

To his BOOKE.

§

§

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A SIXTH BOOKE TO THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.

Written by R. B. Esq.

‘Sat, si bene; si male, nimium.’

Dvblin, Printed by the Societie of STATIONERS. Anno Dom. M.DC. XXIV.

To THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE, THE truely vertuous and learned La: the Viscountesse of Falkland.

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Madam,

THIS sixth Book to the Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia, at the first birth of it was meant for your Honour. If it containe any thing that is good, that you may justly claim as your own, aswell because it was so auspiciously begun, as that goodnes can no where finde a more worthy patronesse. What though it have many faults? yet I hope you will not reject it, both because in its infancie it was vowed to you; and that no where it could have taken a more [Page] priviledged Sanctuarie, then is your favourable censure. The desire I had (seeing it was all I could do) to acknowledge your many favours, mov'd mee, when this addition was scarse begun, to intend it for your Hon: and now it is ended, the confidence I have in your well-knowne clemencie, emboldens me to present it to you; for my distrust of my self makes me feare, that as it could be given to none more desirous to excuse the errours of weake well meaning endevours, so your Honour could no where light on a fitter subject for the practise of that vertue, then is this offering of

Your servant Richard Belling.

To THE READER.

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TO strive to lessen the greatnesse of the attempt, were to take away the glorie of the action. To add to Sir Philip Sidney, I know is rashnesse; a fault pardonable in me, if custome might as well excuse the offence, as youth may prescribe in offending in this kinde. That he should undergo that burden, whose mother tongue differs as much from this language, as Irish from English; augments the danger of the enterprise, and gives your expectation perhaps an assurance what the event must be. Yet let no man judge wrongfully of my endeavours: I have added a limme to Apelles picture; but my minde never entertain'd such vaine hopes, to thinke it of perfection sufficient to delude the eyes of the most vulgar, with the likenesse in the workmanship. No, no, I doe not follow Pythagoras his opinion of transmigrations: I am well assur'd divine Sidney's soule is not infus'd into me, whose Iudgment was only able to finish, what his Inventiō was only worthy to undertake For this, courteous Reader, let it suffice I place Sir Philip Sidney's desert (even in mine owne esteeme) as farre beyond my endevours, as the most fault-finding censor can imagin this assay of mine, to come short of his Arcadia.

Vale. R. B.

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To HIS ENTIRELY BELOVED Kinseman the AVTHOR.

This Isle, sometimes the nurse of sacred Arts,

Wasted by warre, and overgrowne with weedes

Of ignorance, that had ore'run all parts [...]

Did still (I see) retaine some living seeds

Of that old learning, which soft peace doth nourish,

And now begin afresh to spring and flourish.

Which benefite, thy country and thy friends

Reape from the happie labours of thy youth,

Who cannot backe returne thee lesse amends,

Then thus to honour thy deserts with truth:

But I more neerly bound, who in thy blood

An interest claime, as in my countries good.

'Tis true, th'attempt was great; nor blame I that,

Since greatest actions left as patternes bee

For imitation, which t' have offer'd at

So well as thou hast done, will honour thee.

And if thy Booke misse of the due applause,

Th'inimmitable president's the cause.

Another by the same.

That thou so sweetly hast begun to raise

In this high silence, thy harmonious layes.

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Take, as thy due, this honour for thy meed;

Thou art the first who with thy well-tun'd reed

Awak'd thy countries Muse, and led thereby

Into the pleasant fields of Arcady

Her flo [...]kes, her Pastors, and the sportfull crue

Of all her youth that shall thy steps pursue:

Who shall hereafter, to ingirt thy browes,

Bring wreathed garlands of Apollo's bowes.

[...]

To his approved friend the Author.

I Read thy booke on night late, and did feare

Still as I read, I saw appearing there

Sir Philip Sidney's ghost; yet look't about,

And nothing could espie might breed that doubt,

But thy sweet harmelesse Booke: so like in all

Was matter, phrase, and language which did fall

From thy chaste pen, that surely both being gone

Next age will write your characters in one.

And doe I envie this? Yes sure I do

So farre, as to have had the glorie too

I' have finisht such a worke. But since 'twas left

For thee alone, tell me (of faith bereft)

Where you two spake together, and I vow

To keepe it from the world, as I doe now

Not knowing it; that so, before to morrow

I might in honour of thy worke, but borrow

Some little portion of his sacred Muse,

That might to me like flames, and spirit infuse:

For none but such, can reach that height of glory

Which thou bast got, by this immortall story.

W. MARTYN.

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An Accrostick Sonnet. To his worthy and deerly beloved friend the AVTHOR¹

Rather to show my love, then sing thy praise,

I write these lines; for what is knowne to me,

Cannot (my Belling) s [...]and within my layes,

Having lesse words then what to speake of thee:

And [...] thy worth for want of words or phrase

Refin'd and quaint, want due applause, or be

Drencht in oblivion? no, the [...]acred Bayes

Begirts thy head, as a deserved see.

Enough, that speakes thee; for on worthlesse browes

Long tress'd Apollo ne're bestowes his bowes.

Live happy then, and sor thy Countries blisse

I wish thou mayst live long: thy Workes renowne thee,

No better steps thou couldst have tract then His.

Go on, and time, with Sidney's fame, shall crowne Thee.

By the same.

To prayse (my Belling) this thy worke, to mee

Doth seeme superfluous, since good eyes can see,

And seeing judge, and judging know i [...]s worth

Better then tongue or pen can set it forth.

Thus much Ile say, That if this age were blest

Againe by him, w [...]ose soule is now at rest,

The ne' [...]e enough admired Sidney, and

He to thy Booke would but vouc [...]safe his hand,

Thou hast therein such wittie smoothnesse showne,

As out of doubt it would be thought his owne.

H. Delaune.

Notes

1

Pag. 8. lin. 7. for laughing, reade, languishing.

↵

A SIXTH BOOKE TO THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.

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What changes in Fortune the Princes of Macedon & Thessaly have past, together wit [...] what event the uncertaine actions of so blinde a Goddesse, have beene crowned; they may remember, whose eares have beene fedd with their eloquent Story, written by the never-enough renowned Sir Philip Sidney.

Basilius therefore having beheld with the eye of successe, the accomplishment of his misinterpreted Oracle, hastened (together with Evarchus) to his Court of Mantinia; where the infinite assembly, [Page] and the publique Sacrifices of his Subjects, did well witnesse what joy did possesse their hearts, whose eyes were restored to the sight of long-eclipsed Soveraigntie. Fame also, proud [...]o be the messenger of such royall newvs, had soone (with speedie flight) past the limits of Arcadia: so as in few dayes the Court was sill'd with forraigne Princes, whom either the tye of a long observed league of amitie, or a neerenesse in blood to Basilius, at such a time brought thither, to congratulate with him; or were such whose honour-thirstie minds hunted after occasions to make knowne their skill in acts of Chivalrie.

And now was the Marriage day come, when Pamela (attyred in the stately ornament of beauteous Majestie, ledd by the constant forwardnes of a vertuous minde, waited on by the manie thoughts of the forepassed crosses in her love, which now made up a perfect harmonie in the pleasing discord of indeer'd affection) was brought to Church: whom soone after, her sister Philochea (being in the same degree of happiness, clad in the bashfull innocencie of an unspotted soule, guided by the shamefac't desire of her Pyrocles satisfaction, attended on by manie Graces [Page] of a milde cheerefulnesse) followed; both equally admired, both equally lookt upon.

The Temple (where-to in triumph Beautie and Majestie were ledd prisoners by the famous sisters) was a fit dwelling place for the Arcadian Deities; fenc'd from the Sunne and Windes too free accesse, by manie rankes of even growne even set trees: neere which, in divided branches, ran two cleere streames, whose sweet murmure (as they tumbled over their bed of pibble stones) did much adorne the religious solitarinesse of that place. And, that nothing should be wanting that might set forth the carefull judgement of the builder, it was seated in such a neere distance from the Palace, as might not presently burie the gloriousnesse of the show, nor cloy the beholders with the tediousnesse of the sight. In the way, on both hands, vvere manie altars, on vvhich the crowned intralls of the much-promising sacrifices vvere laide. At the doore the two sisters vvere received by as manie Virgins, attired in a vvhite Lawn liverie, vvith [...]arlands on their heads of Lillies and Roses intermixt, holding in their left hands a paire of Pigeons, the gratefull offering to the Queene of Love. Soone after, the accustomed Rites in the Arcadian nuptials being [Page] ended, the King and Evarchus (with the rest of the Princes) returned unto a stately Palace, sumptuously furnished; vvhere both Art and Nature seem'd to be at variance, vvhether should bestow most ornaments to enrich so rare a vvorke: seated vvhere the earth did rise a little (as proud to be the supporter of so curious a building) by meane vvhereof, the sight had freedome to overlooke a large territorie; vvhere the greene levell of the Arcadian Plaines, beautified by the intercourse of manie Forrests, represented the delightfull mixture of a civill Wildernesse. The building of Marble, where, vvhether the Art in carving into manie formes, the in-vaine-resisting hardnesse of the stone, the cunning in knitting these dis-joynted members, or the invention in contriving their severall roomes, did excell; was hard to be judged of.

The inside also might well be the inner part of [...]o glorious an outside: for, besides the well-matcht largenesse of the roomes, and lightsome pleasantnesse of the vvindowes; it was all hung with the choyce rarenesse of farr-fetcht Arras, in which the ingenious workeman, vvith the curious pensill of his little Needle, had limm'd the dumme records of reviv'd Antiquitie. Here did [Page] he present the memorable siege of Thebs, vvhere the ruines of her vvalls seem'd yet to hang, and make the beholders feare the downefall of the lively stones. There you might see how cunningly he had expres't the constrain'd flight of the Trojan Prince, and the cruell sacrifice of enraged Dido's love: Nor vvas the story of Silla forgotten, vvho there stood before Minos with the present of her fathers fatall hayre [...] vvhile you might perceive, by his bent browes and disdainfull countenance, the just reward of her unnaturall attempt. With these and others, vvherein cost and invention strove for the masterie, vvere the Hangings adorned: yet these manie Stories did so stealingly succeed each other, that the most curious observers eye (though his admiration might dwell on each peece) could find no cause of stay, untill he had overlookt them all. But neither these, nor what Art or Nature could have added, did set forth so much the Palace, as the gracefull presence of the Arcadian sisters; whose beauties, till now, of long time had borne a part with their troubled minds, in a sweet pilgrimage to a happie event: And therefore at this present so far disburdened of those thoughts, as 'twas to be setled in the most desir'd enjoying of unspeakable [Page] blisse, the imagination would needs perswade, if it were possible, were bettered.

Dinner being set & ended, while the Knights, (who, to honour that day with Tilting, and to shew vvhat they dar'd and could affect in the service, as they thought, of unresistable beauties) were putting on their Armour, there entred the Hall a Page, who with submissive humblenesse, told the King, he was sent from his Master the naked Knight, who desired there to be received as a Challenger, to eternize, as the justnesse of his cause required, the famous memorie of his deceased Mistris Hellen the Queene of Corinth. Basilius much pittying the before unheard death of so excellent a Queene, will'd the Page to relate the circumstance; which being strange in it selfe, and of so great a subject, wrought a passionate willingnesse in the hearers to be attentive.

After that fortune (said he) had bestowed by the conquest of Amphialus, at Cecropia's Castle, the victorie on his adversarie the black Knight: this Queene (having long time, by the command of Love, her inward Tyrant, made all Greece a Stage for her wandring passions) at length vvent thither; where the end of her search vvas the beginning of her sorrow [...]s. Finding the curtaines [Page] of eternall night, readie to close up his eyes, who (in the voyage her affection made) had alway beene the Port she steered too: yet hoping shee knew not what, that if perhaps Proserpine should meete in Elizium his departed soule, she vvould in meere compassion of her sorrow, send it back to reinhabite her ancient seate; shee carried the life-little-desiring bodie to Corinth, vvhere at that time liv'd an aged mā, by name Arteli [...], one vvhose fortunate experience in desperate cures, had made famous. Him, by the powerfull command of his Queene, and the humble teare [...] of a still-mistrusting lover, she conjures to employ the uttermost of his skill, in preserving him in whom she liv'd. Some time there vvas, ere his vitall spirits, almost now prov'd strangers to their wonted mansion, would accept the tye of hospitalitie: but when the ha [...]d of Art had taught them courte [...]ie, and that each sense, though faintly, did exer [...]ise his charge, Amphialus returning to himselfe, from that sweet ignorance of cares, wherein he liv'd, began to question in what estate the Castle was against the besiegers, thinking he had alwa [...] been there, when Hellen entred the room, with a countenance where beautie appear'd thorow the cloudes of care and feare of his danger: [Page] Her the double and deepely wounded patient, (bearing still about him the inward picture of Philoclea, vvhom long I have heard, in vaine, hee lov'd) thought to be the same Saint, the remembrance of whom return'd, together vvith his vvandring soule, from vvhich it vvas inseparable. Now therefore vvith a laughing looke (the true Herald of vvhat he suffer'd) Ladie, said he, though the vvelcome harbinger of a neere-follovving death hath provided this body (vvhile it vvas mine, alvvay devoted to your service) as a lodging for his Master an ever-certaine guest; yet when I passe to the Elizian Plaines (if any memorie there remaine of this world of comfort, you now vouchsafe, heavens knowes, your faithfull though unfortunate servant) I shall never cease to pay the eternall tribute of thankes to vvell-deserving death, vvho (vvith his presence) brings the happinesse in life denied me.

The Queene, vvith a pensive silence, sorrowing she stood to act the counterfeit of her rivall, and still desirous to enjoy the sweet speech of her reviv'd Amphialus; vvas like a Passenger, vvhom the loud command of the rough Windes had forc'd [...]o wander through the unevennesse of the deepe furrowed Seas, now in sight of land, equally [Page] distracted, betweene the desire to leave this his unnaturall habitation, vvhere each vvave seemes to be the proud messenger of destruction, & feare to approach it, being jelous of his hard entertainment on the rockie shore. Thus did she continue (fixt in a doubtfull imagination) loath to interrupt his pleasing speech, and more then griev'd he meant not her whom he spake to; untill Amphialus (strengthening his newly recover'd senses with the conceited presence of Philoclea) found his errour, and then with a looke on his mistaken object (which he could not make disdainfull, because his happie thoughts had once ador'd it for Philoclea) he suddenly fell into a deadly trance: whereat Hellen (feelingly suffering in his danger) ran to him, and bedewing his even then lovely face with the loving oblation of her many teares, she together poured forth the most passionate plaints that love could invent, or griefe utter [...] so as a while, this accident, overthrowing the fabrick of her halfe-built comfort vvith the suddennnesse of so unlookt for an assault; cōstrained her (vvith bemoning his case) to forget the ca [...]e of his safety. but, being withdrawn by her servants, the indisposition of her bodie, caus'd her a vvhile to entertain in bed the feaver of her affectionate sorrow.

[Page]In meane time Amphialus, by the skilfull care of Artelio, vvas againe brought to enjoy that, vvhose losse he vvould accompt his chiefest happinesse, and faintly vvithdrawing the cover that obscur'd his vveake sight, and setling his look upon Artelio; Father, said he, if you felt the inward agonies of my tormented soule, as you see the desperate state of my low-brought bodie, I assure my selfe you would not be so inhumane, there to imploy your endevours, where when they have wrought their effect, they serve only to confirme the memory of forepassed calamitie, with the growing apprehension of future misfortune: but since my destinies have so set downe, that the whole course of my life should be inevitably disastrous, I must thinke my Tragedie is not yet acted, though what worse than hath befalne me cannot be imagined, or what may be kept in store (more than I have pass'd) farre exceeds my apprehension, though not my expectation.

Here he began to runne over his unfortunate love to Philoclea, the killing of Parthenia, his overthrow in the encounter with the black knight; inserting manie more disgraces, which, the most envious of his glorie, would not have cast as aspersions on his well-knowne fame. [Page] Thus with the thought that Fate (whose working hee could not limit) had reserv'd him for more mischiefe, he suffered his wounds to be cured: And soone after, walking one evening, as his manner was, in the Garden, he chose a time, as he thought, unespied by anie, to convey himselfe thorow a back doore; and there finding his horse (which his Page had brought by his appointment) he rid away, whither he knew not, and much car'd not, so he might leave her whose affection deserv'd a more courteous farewel. But alas! when she heard of his going, what tongue is able to expresse her sorrow, in whom the equally tormenting passion [...] of griefe and despaire were lifted to their uttermost height.

Two daies since the departure of Amphialus posted away, striving in vaine to overtake their irrecoverable fellowes; and now the third was come, to be a prologue to the following Tragedie, when Hellen (slaking the violent course of her incessant plaints) gave occasiō to her servants to be lesse mistrustfull of her actiōs, thinking that time began to weare away her sorrowes. But she (as by the event was gathered) using this as a pollicie to rid her selfe of the cumber of carefull attendance, when (now her truce, in show, with [Page] sorrow, and the restraint of her plaints had wrought the effect she desired) taking her trustie servant Mylama with her, & leaving a letter with Lada (whō, besides Mylama, she only trusted with this secret) which upon the first knowledge of her flight should be given to Drenus the chiefe of her councell; wherein she excused her secret stealing away by a vow pass'd to Apollo, in such maner to go a pilgrimage to Delphos. She put her selfe on her journey, having an armie of passions for her convoy, led by Love and waited on by Desire, in hope of what she knew was hopelesse, yet often checking her despairing foresight, with such unlikely possibilities, as affection (upon these occasions) is wont to supply.

Manie dayes she had not wandred (changing places, to renue her companions in sorrow) whē cōming into a pleasant valley, where, of each side, manie trees (in the greene leav'd mantle of their summer liverie) did apparell two neighbour mountaines, where some Sun-burnt sapless pines by the advātage of the ground (like little in themselves deserving birth onely enobled men) over-topp'd the strait up-raised Cedar, the stock of self-begun honour. Through this flowrie plain ran a manie-headed chrystall current, that did indent [Page] the earth as it smoothly glyded by, to make the obligation of friendship betweene them more firm: & where it fame-like encreas'd by travell, there (as it was the naturall, so) it seem'd to have beene the politick bodie of the state of Springs; such was the constant care of the fountaine Magistrates, & such the well-agreeing union of the watry Cōmons. Heere she stay'd (invited by solitarines, the best repose for vvaried sorrow) yet giving no respit to her mind, she spake nothing but Amphialus, or of Amphialus. O Amphialus, did she say: and to this invocation the flattering Nimph (that alwayes seconds what is spoken) did joine the like of her owne; and Hellen, delighted to heare the sound of so sweet a name beaten back upon her, for a time seal'd up her lipps, listening (with attentive silence) what Eccho would have further said. but shee (who of all the powers of a reasonable soule, only had a memory & a tongue only serviceable to that use) together gave over to reflect her borrowed language, expecting (with like stilness) her further speech. But Hellen, not able longer to restraine the overflow of her panting heart, began to cry out, Vnkinde Amphialus. This also did the Eccho repeate. But shee hearing, by the rebound of the words, Amphialus [Page] accus'd; Discourteous Nymph, said shee, & how is Amphialus unkinde? can the harmonie of such excellence admit so foule a fault to beare a part with his vertues? Yet, wo is me, he is unkinde: could his hard heart else suffer this love of his, (which I onely name, because it is the onely part worth naming in me) thus long unregarded? Could not my Crown (crown'd in being a foot-stoole to Amphialus) have purchas'd some respect? Alas no: how could unhappie H [...]llen expect the Fates reserv'd so great a blessing in store for her?

She had not long debated the reasons of her misfortune, when Rinatus (the onely brother to Timotheus, but yonger by manie years) chanc'd to passe that way: a man on whom Fame had bestow'd, & deservingly, the name of Valiant; yet of disposition so mischievously cruell, & ambitiously proude, that where his deeds might well have claim'd so great an honour, there his conditions (as well weighed) brought a reproachfull burthen to the ballance of his reputation. Hee, (his father dying yong, & unwilling to dismember his estate, and unable otherwise to satisfie the hopes of his sonnes ambition) hearing of the vvarres of Laconia, went thither; where soone he purchased the opiniō of a man resolute to undertake, [Page] & fortunate to execute what he had undergone: and serving under Eborbas (chiefe cōmander for the King) because of the sympathie of humours betweene them (whereby Nature did insinuate for Rinatus, and taught him flatterie without dissimulation) he grew great in his favour. Soone after, this Eborbas, in a conflict between him & the Helots, being mortally vvounded; yet in death, carefull of the vvelfare of his countrey, recommded this Rinatus (partly for his good liking of him, but principally for his experience in vvarres, and well-seconded judgemēt) to the King: vvho, though with some opposition, the countrey men repining at his (a strangers) advancemēt, after his trustie Eborba's death, preferred him to the same place. his discharge of wch, outwent so farre the envie of the jealous Noblemen, that well might their King and they, in the death of the valiant Eborbas, deplore the losse of a private man, but must confesse, that his watchfull care and undanted well-ordered courage did survive in this their Generall.

In this esteeme he had scarce lived a year, when hearing of his brother and nephewes death, together vvith his undoubted right to the large territorie which his brother in his life time had enjoied, [Page] he notwithstanding cōtinued in the charge to which he vvas lately advanc'd; framing, in his conceit, his new-acquired greatnesse but as a step to clime the soveraigntie of Laconia, which being elective, he thought the easier to be compas'd, having, by his bounteous affability, gain'd [...]he hearts of the souldiers, and being alreadie possest of the chiefe Forts (the best strength of the countrey) wherein he had plac't such, who had their devotions link't to his will, because they ought him the benefite of their creation. But finding the accomplishment of these practises to depend upon the death of the King, which his youth promised was unlikely soone to happen, and fearefull to draw on the discovery of his practises, by seeking any secret meanes to make him away, whō the vvatchful eye of dutifull observance did vvarrant secure from anie trayterous plots; he solicites the King to dispence vvith his presence, who (seeing the ground of his journey to be the just cause of his long-deferr'd revenge, for Timotheus his brother, and Philoxenus his nephewes death. Now a peace vvas lately concluded vvith the Helots, and therefore his absence the more excusable) upon condition of a speedy returne, though unwilling, yet for his satisfaction, grants his request: vvho [Page] now on his journey, and having in his vvay to crosse this valley, met the unfortunate Queene, vvhom, though her habi [...]e might disguise, her words (overheard) did assure Rinatus his vvillingnesse to beleeve, that she vvas the same she so often spake her selfe to be, the unfortunate Hellen.

A while hee stood doubtfull of the person, a vvhile amaz'd at so fortunate an encounter, and a long time perplex'd vvhat punishmēt his revenge would judge fit for (the conceited heinousnesse of) his brother and nephewes death. At length the Queen (now first vvithdrawing her thoughts from that object, vvhereto affection in sweetest contemplation had bound them, & suffering her mind, before retyr'd vvithin it selfe, now to be inform'd by her servants senses) seeing this stranger neer her, began, as her maner vvas, to finde by enquirie vvhat he knew of Amphialus. Wicked vvoman, replyed Rinatus, the all-seeing Iustice hath now deliver'd thee to receive fit punishment for Philoxenus & Timotheus death: & using no more vvordes, presently caus'd her to be mounted on horseback, prolonging her life to make her death the more miserable. Thus farre hath Mylama discover'd, vvho, poore Lady, vvas there left, most cruelly beaten, to be the reporter of Rinatus revenge, [Page] and her Mistris hard hap.

The last act of this Tragedie, my Master had the fortune to know, by one of trust & great esteeme in the Court of Laconia, to vvhich Rinatus had conveyed Hellen, vvhere, for a time, she vvas honourably entertain'd, finding no vvant but of command and libertie: the King, belike, fearing the power of the vvronged CorinthiāS, preser [...]ing her as a sure Card for a dead lift. But vvhen he understood that one Tenarus (a man apt to practise innovations, and at th [...]s time able, vvhen the many-headed multitude vvanted the awfull presence of their soveraigne) tooke upon him the governmēt, pretending a title to the crown as descended frō those, from whō Hellens ancestors (as he alledged) had trayterously forc'd it. Then did the Tyrant of Laconia, finding the vvay secure for his mischievous practise, vehemently importuned by Rinatus, and urg'd forward by the politick vvickednesse of his owne desire to pleasure the new King, secretly cause Hellen to be poysoned. Such vvas the end of this great Queene, justly belov'd of all vvho heard the fame of her vertues, & therefore justly to be deplor'd of all, vvho heare the unredeemeable losse of so many perfections.

[Page] Basilius & the rest of the Princes vvere much mov'd vvith so tragicall a story, especially Musidorus, who (in search of Pyrocles) having the fortune to see her, could vvitnesse, that though fame had borrowed all mens mouthes to proclaime her many excellencies, yet it vvas far from doing right to her desert. But this vvas no fit lodging for pitty to dwel in, vvhere joy had so great command. The Messenger therefore being permitted to part, vvith free leave for his Master to enter the lists, Iudges vvere appointed, and the Challenge proclaim'd.

The Challenger understanding of the Kings liking of his demand, came forth of his Pavillion vvith Armour so lively representing nakednesse, vvounded in manie places, (vvhere the staunchlesse blood, in the course the vvorkeman had allotted it, seem'd to dropp destruction) that manie thought a madness had possest him (so unarmed, so wounded) to present himselfe in such a tryall, where a surer defence, and a sounder bodie vvere more needfull. Before him went six, as Savages, bearing the Launces for his first courses; who, comming within distance to be heard, did sing these following Verses.

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Too soone you fled from hence to that fayre place,

The happy period of a well-run Race:

Too late I stay, in griefe's eternall night,

To doe this penance for my over sight.

Once let me dye, let not my dying life

Prolong my woes, and keepe my thoughts at strife:

Let him that did offend your heavenly eyes,

Now please your anger with selfe-sacrifice.

Then one of them reaching him a launce, he began his course against Tyro Prince of Andria, famous for his constant love to the faire Lydia, now married and Queene of Epire, and ever fortunate in the course of his adventures: but here his fortune gave place to vertue, or rather join'd with her to assist the naked Knight; for at the third encounter hee was put beside his Saddle, much bruised in bodie, and no lesse afflicted in minde.

The next that supplyed his place, was Pawsanias, a Macedonian, one who in his late warrs had done Evarchus faithfull service; and now, thinking to be as successefull in this enterprise, had put on Armour to do honour to his Mistris: but his first course compell'd him to acknowledge hee was deceiv'd, seeing himselfe fall so farre short of his expectation.

[Page]To him succeeded Nicanor, a Corinthiā knight, advanc'd by the new King: one extreamely confidēt of himselfe, because never tryed, & now verie forward, fearing to be prevēted of the honour, for which already, in conceit, he had triumphed at Corinth, with the great applause of the people, and the good liking of the King. But the naked Knight, at second course, cut off both his life and imagined trophee: for, couching his launce, and allotting it in his course a just descent, rightly levell'd by his well-judging experience, it met with Nicanors sight, and passing thorow that weake resistance, it pearc't his right eye, and with it his braine; so as Nicanor fell downe, forgetfull both of his forethought fame & following reproach. With this adventure the Tilting that day ended; the Sunne, with loose rayes, posting to his Westerne home, and the naked Knight retyr'd himselfe to his Pavillion, whence he sent his Page, who humbly, for his Master, intreated that his unwillingnesse to be knowne, should excuse the omission of his dutie to the King.

Thus that night drew on, which, to them who enjoy'd de [...]ight, seem'd to have put on all her sails to be the speedier in passing over. But farre other was the naked knights apprehension: he (who [Page] made her ugly darknesse a pattern of the sorrow his afflicted soule endur'd) thought she was becalm'd in the Sea of his misfortune. At length Phoebus, wearie of his importunitie, made hast to distribute his gratefull light, to his care-tyr'd senses; & he, as soone imbracing the smallest shew of comfort, put on his Armour. About two hou [...]es after the Iudges being set, and Basilius and Evarchus (with the rest of the Court) present, Leonatus the yong King of Pontus (who had bin there to acknowledge his beholdingnes to them, whom he was deservingly bound to) tooke the field. His Armor was of a darke colour, thorow vvhich manie flames seem'd to breake out, as vvhen the clowdes, great in labour with exhalations, at length give way to their more violent power: His three first Courses promised a more happie event, than Fortune meant he should enjoy; for (having perform'd them with a well-order'd firmenesse in his seat, & a moving constancie in the carriage of his launce, to the great delight of the beholders) the fourth time hee was dismounted: whose disgrace Pyrocles was ready to revenge, but hee was, by a secret looke from Philoclea, commanded the contrarie. Then Telamon, Phelauceas and Diremus felt, with little advantage [Page] in Fortune, the like successe.

Thus most part of that morning the naked Knight, with little resistance, had the best against all commers, which most of the lookers on, with publicke acclamation, did testifie: but he, having given over the use of himselfe to sorrow, sometimes by the carelesse shaking of his head, did let them know, they burdened his desert with the unpleasing waight of his praise; and staying a while on horseback, expecting the next adventurer, with such a demeanor of himselfe as (though it did accuse him of much griefe) could not conceale the grace of his stately presence. But when hee saw none readie to take the field, with an hūble bend taking his leave of the king, he softly trotted towards his Tent, not so much to repo [...]e his bodie as to give a quiet way to the assaults of his minde. At length, when all the beholders expectation were almost wearied, there entred the Lists a Lady, attended only by one Page, who having lighted, presently went towards the place where Basilius sate; where first kneeling, then taking away a black Scarffe (which griefe had hyr'd to joyne with her selfe, in eclipsing the excellent feature of a most faire face) she began to speake: but Basilius and Genecia hastily ranne to [Page] imbrace Hellen the Queene of Corinth, for this was shee. Great was the joy for her reviv'd presence, and great the desire to know the meanes of her sa [...]etie: But shee (accounting these gratulations cumbersome, and the relation of her adventures tedious) fixing her watry eyes on Basilius: Great King, I am (said she) that unfortunate Hellen, sometime Queene of Corinth, now both depriv'd of crowne and kingdome, by Tenarus. Yet why should I mention this, as fit to be inserted among my greatest misfortunes? The cause why now I come, is my care of Amphialus his safetie, in whom I live, to whose disdaine I have vowed the tribute of my constant love: Hee (alas, why should I live to speake it?) not long since, following the course of his adventures, came to Amasia, where he was made prisoner, and carried to Dunalbus Prince of that countrey; whose brother it was Amphialus his fortune to kill in rescue of a Lady, to whom he would have offered dishonourable violence. These newes came to mine eares (to add more to many miseries) at that time when I chanc'd to be at Delphos, pouring forth my heartiest devotions for my most beloved, my most unkinde Amphialus: but the pittying God, eyther to stay my hands from the execution they [Page] intended (but to what end might that be, that God knows; no time can unbend my affection) or (as heaven grant it may be) in commisseration of my case, thus comforted me;

Hellen ret [...]rne, a naked Knight shall finde

Rest for thy hopes, and quiet to thy minde.

Thus farre have I wandred, ledd by that divine promise, in pursuite of such a one, but no where can I find a happie event to confirm that Oracle: yet dare I not despaire, having so high a warrant; nor hope, having so bad successe.

You are fortunately come, said the King. This Knight, whose skill in Armes hath made your well-deserving vertues famous, may be that man, pointed out by the finger of heaven, to release Amphialus, who both in name and armour represents a naked Knight. O no, said the Queene, it cannot be expected that Apollo would leave so plaine a way for us to track out the footsteps of his obscure misteries. Madam, replied Basilius, (having first plac't her in a Chayre by him) the all-seeing providence, with whom the ends of all things are presēt, is somtimes pleas'd to cast forth the Emblem of our destinies, so strangely hidden in the covert of ambiguous words, that doubtless it serves to beget nothing but matters of distrust, [Page] and labyrinths of errors, where the imagination a thousand vvayes may be led astray. Of this you have a present proofe, confirm'd by my experience. and somtimes the same Iustice unfolds the secret of our fate, and plainely lets us know the misterie of our fortune: yet even that plaineness, to the curious search of our stil-mistrusting brain, becomes a reason sufficient to enforce us to a contrarie beleefe. This last I thinke (if in the interpretation of an Oracle my opinion may be receiv'd) is that meane, whereby Apollo both reveales & hides the author of Amphialus freedom. This said, he sends presently for the naked knight, who, as soone obeying the Kings command (as he was completely armed) came before him; to vvhom Basilius cheerefully told (as glad to be the reporter of so good newes to him, whose prowesse in armes deservingly gain'd much of his good opiniō) of Hellens being there, together vvith her desire to imploy him in an action the heavens had also interested him. What is it, replyed the naked Knight, that without such a cōmand I vvould not endevour to accomplish for my most deere Hellen? and then with excesse of comfort and astonishment, his vveake limmes were readie to give over the support of his joy-burdened [Page] bodie; but, being upheld by Musidorus who stood next him, his overcharg'd spirits had time to recollect themselves.

The Queene gathering comfort from his promise, & seeing faire likelyhood o [...] the Oracles accomplishment; with the oratorie of love, who thinkes no vvords but his owne able to expresse his mind [...] began in this manner. Sir, ill fortune my awfull governesse, as in the most of my actions shee is pleas'd to keepe a hard hand over me, so in this (distrustfull belike of my willingnesse) she forces me to repeat my wonted lesson of receiving courtesies without power of requitall; making one undeserved favor from you, become a cause of further beholdingnesse to you: But the glorie that follows your good successe in this adventure (the best spur to set forward brave spirits to noble actions) hath almost assur'd me, that the love you professe, and a distressed Ladies cause, need not joyne petitioners in a request your vertue must be willing to grant. The reward of your victorie, is the releasing of Amphialus; of whom I may speake, and the vvorld vvith me, all prayse-worthy things. Madam, replyed the naked Knight, I thought the Gods could not have favour'd me more, then in giving you respite of [Page] life, and me power to be serviceable to you: but when I consider the end I must imploy my endevours too, it buries my conceited happinesse in the grave of a certaine misfortune. Shall I labour to preserve that monster of men, whose storie (if the vvorld vvill needs reade) containes nothing but a volume of disasters, and a vaine discourse of a few adventures, cast upon him by the blindnesse of chance? Shall I hazzard my life for him, against whom, had I lives innumerable, I vvould venture them all? Shall I live to make another happie in your favour, & crosse mine owne desires? No Madam, I wil sooner leave my bloud here before you, as a testimony that feare hath no interest in my disobedience to your command, then I will make my after-life truly miserable in the burden of a hopelesse affection. To this the Queene a vvhile in teares, as if her eyes strove to speake for her, made a silent answer: but vvhen her sighes had breath'd forth the overcharge of her brest, first she kneeled, then faintly said; O eternall president of this Court of cares, when wil thy just pittie cōmiserate my distresse! Alas Sir, vvhat new vvay have the Gods found to vent their malice on me! have I made disdaine my only mishap, and must now affection to mewards [Page] bee another undeserved misfortune? Behold Sir, and if you can, vvith pittie, a Queene, borne to command, a suppliant at your feet, begging what goodnesse sollicites you to grant; Release Amphialus: and if your jealousie thinkes he hath too much interest in my love, restore him to the vvorld that wants him; I will vow a Virgins life. Stay, vertuous Queene, replyed the naked Knight, and lifting up his Beaver, Receive, said he, thou best of women thy over-joy'd Amphialus.

The Queene, as when the Ocean swels with the rage of a tempest, if on a sudden these blasts be appeas'd, yet the proude vvaves, mindefull of their forepast injurie, and indispos'd to so speedie a reconcilement, some while retaine the rough remembrance of the vvindes malice: so were her thoughts, before mov'd by the storme of despair, though now she had cause of contented quiet, on a sudden, incapable of so unlook't for a happines; first doubt, then amazement, lastly excesse of joy, by succession were admitted to the Helme of her distressed heart. But when joy had once got to be the Steers-man, his want of practise (by his long absence frō that imployment) soon brought a confusion: here the warme teares of sorrow, there the cold dropps of a present comfort, did [Page] strive vvhether would shew himselfe most officious in drowning her pale blushing cheekes. At length they both, no longer able to resist this powerfull invasion of their mindes (as by mutuall consent) fel, the one intwin'd in the others armes, & made the earth happie in bearing such matchlesse lovers: But their senses being soone restor'd to their wonted function, after some passionate words (to which their eies & touch of their hāds gave the life of expression) Amphialus, divided into manie minds by the turbulent working of his thoughts (turning towards his uncle) with his eyes fixt on the ground, stood with the grace of a man condemned, who, having led a loathsome life in an ugly dungeon, is now brought to a freedome o [...] looking upon the open ayre, yet sees the day is but a Taper to light him to his execution. Of the one side he was brought from the hell of despaire, wherein he liv'd, in the assurance of Hellens death, to the certaintie of her life & presence: of the other, what was his treason to his uncle, to expect but an infamous death, & a divorce from his new-borne happinesse. The shame also of a crime so foule as his rebellion, vvas not the least torment to his minde, unwillingly beaten from a setled course of vertue by Cecropia's practises. At [Page] length (when these thoughts, that almost overcame all the powers of life in him, vvere themselves overcome by his resolution) casting himselfe at Basilius his feet, he thus said. Great Sir, if treason in a subject, and unnaturalnesse in a nephew be punishable, here you have before you a fit exercise for your justice: I am that subject, whose rebellion interrupted the contented quiet of my Kings solitarie life, and brought him to behold the bloudie tragedie of a civill discension in his divided State: I am that nephew, whom a vvilfull disobedience made a traytor to the neernesse of his bloud. Hither did I come (Orestes-LIKE tormented by the inward fright of my guilty conscience) with my bloud to vvash away (if good fortune, in the defence of the cause I undertooke, would draw death upon me) the staines of such unpardonable faults [...] but now that I have found what I least look't for (and then he cast a side look on Hellen) for her, I confesse, I should desire to live, if your just indignation might finde mercie for so hainous offences. which I vvill not strive to mitigate (how ever justly I may:) for I vvould thinke such faults ill excus'd, with vvhich (to ease my selfe) I must have burdened my neerest friends.

[Page] Basilius first graciously lifting him from the ground, Nephew, replyed he, did I retaine the memorie of your youthfull oversights, this your vertuous acknowledgement were sufficient to beare them away: but long since I have buried in oblivion, the thought of your rashnes, because I knew (by vvhat after happened) that the Gods had made you an instrument to worke their ends. it were injurie therefore to question his actions, whose vvill vvas not his own, being overrul'd by their all-cōmanding decree. No, nephew, I do not only pardon these transgressions, but freely also do resigne all such possessions as your father held in Arcadia, taken from you in the last warre, and now in the hands of Philanax. Live happie in your choise: I shalbe proud of our alliance with the crowne of Corinth, and shall rejoyce to see the succession continue in our bloud. This said, he ledd him to Genecia, then to Evarchus: but when he came to Musidorus, This, nephew, is that black knight (said he) who, at your last meeting, gave such evidēt proof of his uncōquerable valor: This is Musidorus, the Prince of Thessaly, whom the Gods have bestow'd as a blessing on my daughter Pamela. Amphialus now assured by the kings speech, unto whose hand the honour of his conquest [Page] had fallen (for doubt had long tormented him, that some baser hand had reapt the glorie of his victorie;) Prince Musidorus, said he, my hard successe in our last encounter much perplext me: not that my confidence of my selfe, was lifted to such an arrogāt presumptiō, to think my strength and skill in Armes matchlesse; but that it griev'd me, an unknown Knight (one whom the vvorld might thinke had conceal'd his name, lest together with him, his bad fortune in tryalls of that kinde, might be discovered) should have the better of me. But now that I know to vvhose lot my victorie hath falne, I doe not onely bring an excuse, but an honour, from the worthinesse of the conqueror.

Courteous Amphialus, repli'd the Prince, whose side the advantage of Fortune did then incline to, if it may be determined; with greater reason, and more desert should the honour be givē you, than bestowed on me: but however, such tryall I then made of your manhood, that hereafter I shall desire to be of your part. Worthy Prince, said Amphialus, your vertue will alway chuse to be of the weaker side: and so turning to Philoclea, Divine Lady, said he, in your excellent choyse of the famous Pyrocles, you have (besides the happinesse [Page] gain'd to your selfe, for which the world may envie you) shew'd me the way to my best hopes, by graffing my affection in the stock of my Helle [...]s constancie. Deere cousin, replyed Philoclea, I am glad it was in my power, and your good fortune so much to better your choise in so excellent a remove. And so casting a bashfull looke towards Pyrocles [...] Sir, said she, we may joine in thankesgiving: this is my cousin, whose vertuous disposition during our imprisonment, was our safest defence against my aunt Cecropia's crueltie. I doe acknowledge it, said Pyrocles, and besides this favour (in vvhich vve have a common interest) Sir, I must crave pardon for a vvound given you at such a time, vvhē belike you made Patience your only defence. Amphialus stood [...]ith his eye fixed on Pyrocles: for his memory supply'd him with a confused remembrance of such a face. Zelmane he could not take him to be; her sexe and this change, at their first birth destroy'd these apprehensions. Pyrocles, his heart swore he vvas not, vvhose youth and beautie God vvot vvere no fit live [...]ie for such atchievemēts as the vvorld fam'd him for. Thus a vvhile hee continued, troubled vvith the uncert [...]intie of conjectures, untill Pyrocles (happily conceiving the cause of his amazement) [Page] stopt his further admiration, by letting him know, that the then Zelmane was the now Pyrocles. Whereat Amphialus, as one newly wak't out of a dreame, cryed out, Anaxius: Anaxius, said he, ' [...]was the Prince of Macedon (not a vvoman) overcame thee. Wheresoever thy soule be, let it keepe this time festivall, as the birth-day of thy glorie. And so, after mutuall embraces, together with the rest of the Princes, they entred the Palace: vvhere, vvhen they were seated, the eyes of all the companie were set on the Queene of Corinth, longing to know the storie of her strange fortune, now a Queene, then a prisoner, now alive, then dead; vvhich shee, at Basilius intreatie, vvith a majestie (which her fortune could not change, because 'twas innate) thus declared.

Great Sir; that I vvas made prisoner by Rinatus, and by him carried to Laconia, Fame (together vvith the newes of my supposed death) belike hath brought you: the rest, since you esteem worthy your hearing, I shall esteeme worthie my relation.

There yet governes (and then did) among the Nobilitie of Laconia, one Creton, a man elected to the crown rather to recompence the desert of his ancestors than for his owne vertues, beloved and [Page] borne vvith for the same reason: such an everlasting monument, of it selfe, can goodnesse leave to posteritie. To him vvhen I vvas brought, my guilt and my guiltie selfe, vvith the best oratorie Rinatus had, vvas made knowne; vvho with vehement importunitie desired, that my speedie punishment (as my fault) should be terrible. The King answered, Though he found his demands reasonable, and such to vvhich he vvas sure there could be no opposition made, yet he thought it fit the Nobilitie should be acquainted vvith so vvaightie a cause [...] before he proceeded further in it; and so for this time (being committed to the charge of Partinax, Chamberlaine to the King) I was dismist. The next day, the Councell being sent for, my cause ran the hazzard of manie opinions: some thought it fit I should dye; and though Iustice, said they, might not dispence with such severitie, yet it vvas fit to please Rinatus, one who had deserv'd vvell, and had the power (if otherwise he vvere dealt vvith) to revenge his injurie. Others (the more in number, and esteem'd the vviser, because the King held vvith them) oppos'd this sentence, alledging, so inconsiderate an act might call the safetie of Laconia in question: for, said they, shall wee thinke the Corinthians so [Page] degenerate, that being justly incenc't against us, they will not endevour to revenge the death of their Prince, in shade of whose raigne they enjoy that peace & plentie their neighbours envie them for? and if they stirre in it, what people is so barbarous, whom the justnesse of their cause will not procure into the societie of this warre? See then if a private mans satisfaction, be to be compar'd to these ensuing dangers: no, let her live, & when the Gods doe otherwise dispos [...] of her, let her death come without the ruine of Laconia. This determined, a new doubt arose, how I should be dispos'd of: They that before thought it expedient I should dye (now that opinion vvas put by) concluded that it was best to send me to Corinth with an honourable convoy, so to tye them, by a perpetuall bond of gratitude, to be their friends, whom they so much fear'd to bee their enemies. the rest, to gratifie the king, whose affection they perceiv'd to leane that way (and well assur'd it was an advice too profitable to be rejected that gain'd a kingdome) though his promise after the Q. death (who not long before left him a widower) had bin pas't to Lemnia a fair & vertuous La: daughter to my keeper Partinax; yet they wisht, if so he pleas'd, my crown might vvin [Page] me to his bed, little doubting but I had thought it an egregious felicitie to be so grac't. The King after manie protractions, at length, as if he were wrought to it (by a desire to satisfie the Nobility rather then selfe-will) declares his mind, to be directed by them: which once known, behold the flatterie of Court began to fawne upō me; who more observ'd, who more admir'd? onely Rinatus, much impatiēt of this my greatnes (in Court) uttered some words in choler, wch made known (by further enquirie) a conspiracie of his against the King; so as soone after (the rather to give me, whom they studied to please, satisfactiō) he was beheaded.

But long it was not before Fortune, neither constant to my happie adversitie, nor adverse felicitie, had brought thither (sent by the usurper Tenarus) a wise, but wicked instrument, whō he call'd his Ambassador, who laboured by the policie of his high reaching braine, and the secret practises of his undermining gold, so farre for his Masters ends, that now in an instāt the stil-changing face of Court-respect began to frowne upon me; my death was decreed, and (untill the time vvere appointed for it) my selfe made a close prisoner in my accustomed gaole. But the King, [Page] chiefly mov'd vvith the hope of my crowne, and drawn by a selfe-conceit of liking to my sorrow, (vvhich perhaps had a sympathie vvith his melancholy) vvould needs continue the suit of his affection to me, though he durst not interpose his overrul'd authoritie for my libertie. Thus for a time did I live, accompanied by some few vvhō the king might trust vvith his intēts; he in shew courting his first love Lemnia, and making that a pretence to come private to her [...]athers house neer adjoyning to Court. But indeed (as at that time he could have no reason to dissemble vvith me) this kindnesse came another way: vvhich Lemnia suspecting, and being as farre gone in affection to this double-dealing King, as he was in the profession of a little-regarded love to me, her vvatchfull eye soon found the advantage of a happie opportunitie to heare himselfe speake his own deceipt; with such a heart-burning vehemencie, that Lemnia (who had plac't her selfe unknown to eyther of us, behinde the hangings) scarse could suppresse her entry, to play a part in our Comedie of affection. But to his demāds truth answered for me plainly, that death, in whose expectation I liv'd, vvould be farre more pleasing, then the marriage he thought so reasonable: adding vvithall to my [Page] speech, much of Lemnia's praise, wch she deserv'd, to instruct his eyes that indeed vvere blinde, in his choyse.

But when he parted, vowing to be severe in my punishmēt unless I resolved better at his next comming, behold Lemnia (with teares in her ei [...]s) fell at my feet: and vvhen she saw amazemēt in my lookes, with a kinde bashfulnesse taking my hand, & rising with that helpe; Vertuous Lady, said she, if ever you have beene acquainted with the tyrannie of all-commanding affection, to that Iudge I appeale, who (though courtesie and good maners oppose him) wil find my fault excusable: This man, who in your presence hath beene the trumpet of his owne inconstancie, first with the vehemēt protestatiō of his sincere affection, won me in gratefulnes to meet him, in the recōpence of his unknown dissimulatiō, if such then it vvere; and now, vvith the good liking of the State, vvere the solemnities appointed for our marriage, whē your arrivall croft those hopes, and drew his thoughts to their naturall temper of unstayednes. But since I have found by this fortunate unmanerlinesse, your answers so resolutely oppos'd to his demands, henceforth I vow to vvorke your freedome, or bring my selfe to perish vvith you. [Page] Her fault found an easie pardon at the tribunall shee appeal'd too: I thank't her (as there vvas good cause) for her desire of my good, onely I wisht, if my freedom could not be procur'd without danger to her, she vvould not heape miseries upon me, by joining her selfe a companion in my disaster. She comforts me vvith the hope of a better event: & to bring her intention to a wished successe, she vvins my unvvillingnes to shew som favour to the King; which next day I did, having plac't Lemnia vvhere shee had plac't her selfe the day before, to be a witnesse to our conference [...] for otherwise perhaps her love this second time might have egg'd her suspition, already prone that vvay, to the distrust of a practise betwixt us. And happie vvas this forc't dissimulatiō: for the king not long before his comming to me, had receiv'd advertisement that the usurper of Corinth had levied an armie, & set forth manie ships to invade Laconia, making the delay of my promised execution the pretence of this vvarre [...] vvhich being also knowne to the Nobilitie, they (who together vvith this forreine enemie feared the rebellion of the Helots, vvho alway lay in vvait for an opportunitie of such advantage) now, more then ever, began to solicite the king to satisfie so potent an [Page] enemie in so just a demād. The king vvel vveighing the iminent dangers that vvere to be prevented by my death, and seeing the little comfort he did enjoy by prolonging of my life, (likely everie day to encrease my obstinacy, being none of those lovers that would die for his disdaining Masters) vvas ready to deliver me over as a sacrifice for the State & countrey; vvhen behold, his sayles vvere fill'd vvith a selfe-opinion in my favour. Born up therefore vvith the vvings of hope, he returnes to Court, where love (or some indulgent Fate) inspired this project into his head: He calls the Nobilitie, and after a long narration of the mischiefes that hung over Laconia, he desires their advice for prevention. They glad that the onely opposer, as they thought, of their designes, vvould have recourse to their directions, in that cause vvherein they vvere jealous of his partaking, after a flatte [...]ring insinuation (the cōmon Exordium to men of his place) they concluded that it vvas fit Hellen should dye. I doubt it not, said he; nor was it to that end I sought your counsaile, that the necessitie of the times, the welfare of our person, & the preservation of our state required her death: but it much perplext me, that our fame should bleed with her, or that the world should say, the threats [Page] of the king of Corinth had inforc't us to behead her whō lately we vvere to take to wife. 'Twas this, my Lords, that caus'd my misinterpreted resolution hang in suspence: for this I have turn'd my invention into all formes, and now behold I have found an even way to lead me between the perrils of a threatned war, & the ill-bought quiet of an ignominious peace. My will is, she be brought to Court (for Partinax his house I think not convenient for this project) and plac't here, with such about her as I know most trusty in such a secret: then, that her keepers at farthest within two dayes poyson her; wch done, weele give it out she dyed of a disease. and to confirme this opinion in the vulgar, wee vvill honour her death vvith such funerall pomp as the state of her life required. Thus shall our cause of dissention with Corinth be taken away, and vve freed from that imputation the vvorld might justly lay upon us. The Nobilitie with silent admiration, began to applaud vvhat he had determined, chiefly Partinax, who (making the cōmō cause his pretence) labour'd by all meanes to confirm a resolution so necessary for his daughter Lemnia's happinesse.

The king having dismist the Councel, acquaints me with these his proceedings, setting forth with [Page] no meane pride, the pregnancie of his owne vvit, who had found a way to over-reach such graybearded dotards: for, said he, you shall that night when you are thought to be poisoned, be conveyed hence (by two of chiefest trust about me) unto my Castle of Nicos. then will I cause a statue, form'd to your proportion, to be coffin'd up, on wch (forsooth) my grave Councell shal solemnly wayte, and performe the ob [...]equies in that ceremonie requisite; meane time you shal live, & live beloved of him vvho hath undergone this dangerous enterprise, and will do many more to indeer his affection to you. And when the limms of this dis-joynted State be set againe, you shalbe restor'd to be your selfe, and to enjoy this Crowne of Laconia so much envied you: till when, I lock these projects in the closet of your secrecie.

The good king was scarce gone frō me, vvhen I made Lemnia of counsaile with me, vvho se [...]ing the fitnesse of the time, being my journey to Nicos was to be perform'd in the night, and the easie execution o [...] so dangerless an enterprise, my guard being only two of the kings servants; she gives in charge to a sufficient number of such vvhō she knew faithfull to her, to meet them midway, and after they had well beaten my convoy (to discharge [Page] them of the suspicion of their consenting to the fact) to carry me to the next sea port, where there stay'd a ship bound for Delphos; to vvhich I needs would bēd my course. This being resolv'd upon, the Lady (equally troubled with the care of my safetie, and the losse of my presence) wept manie teares, which I confesse had beene ingratitude in me not to second; so as a vvhile sorrow seem'd to have flowen thither to bathe her selfe in our eyes: but love at length, in both of one anothers good, had vvell neere calm'd this passion, when the guard, appointed by the king, was come, and readie to carrie me to Court. But why should I, great Sir, anie longer stay you in a storie, whose tediousnes I am well assur'd hath tyr'd you? know therfore, that this meanes of my safetie vvas as fortunately executed, as happily contriv'd; the king not once daring to send to seeke me, lest he should by that discover his own craft us'd in this dangerous deluding of the Laconian Noblemen.

But I vvas scarce a moneth absent, vvhen hee vvhose eyes held the raines of his constancie, the object being remov'd, married (as it vvas before determined) the beauteous Lemnia; who now in possessiō of his love, stick't not to make knowne [Page] to him this whole matter, which otherwise in her behalfe I was bound to keep secret. Thus sir, if my desire to obey your commands hath made the story of my misfortunes tedious, you may excuse me, since all is done for your satisfaction.

Faire Queene, replied Basilius, the sweetly delivered strangenesse of the storie, would still ravish the hearers with a desire of a further cause of attentivenesse, did not a greater desire in us vvho know your vertues, hasten to heare the end of your much pittied distresse: and so calling Amphialus to him, having agreed on the day of marriage betweene the Queen & him, they all arose; for now their appetites (growing jealous of the satisfaction their minds received by the former discourse) began to solicite them in the behalfe of their stomacks.

After dinner, when most of the companie began to impe the wings of time with the feathers of severall recreations, Amphialus and Hellen privately went together into an arbor in the gardē, where first vvith teares (the cōmon apologie of over-joy'd affection) they spake their mindes in silēce, their panting hearts (as they imbrac't) with mutuall desire beating their envious garments, that gave them not l [...]ave to meet. At length Hellen [Page] gracefully shaking her head, as if shee vvould shake away the drops that (like the morning dew on full-ripe Cherries) hung on her rosie cheekes: O Amphialus, said she, & then kist him, as loath to leave so perfect a sentence without a comma; I wil not say you were unkind, but, and there with his lips (loath belike to accuse him) she clos'd up her speech. My sole happinesse, replied Amphialus, (softly wringing her hand) though the foulenes of my fault be no fit subject for her to speake of, who breathes nothing but goodnes, yet I vvāt not an accuser, my soule sets forth my ingratitude; nor can I yet conceive, how mercie can be so farre remov'd frō justice, as to finde a pardon for my offence: but you have given it, and (if it be any requital) it shalbe my after lifes studie to love & honor your vertues, as it was hitherto to offend you. It is fit therefore (said Hellen, with the counterfeit setlednes of Matie) we impose a penance upō you for your oversight; and this it shal be, that henceforth you neither speake nor think of that you account your fault: and to helpe you in obeying my commands, I must intreat you to keep your mind and tongue for a time busied in telling me what befel you in your travel since our being at Corinth. and do it not so niggardly, as if you meant to conceale [Page] what fame hath so largely blowne abroad: yet if you were expos'd at anie time to much danger, dwell not there too long, least I forget I have you heere.

Most deere Ladie, said Amphialus, to conforme my selfe to your last request, would make me disobedient to your first command. Shall I begin with my departure from you? alas, at vvhat time should I more imploy my memorie & speech in discoverie of my faultie selfe than now? But I see your eies begin to take anger into them, I will no longer insist on mine owne accusation.

Know therefore, most constant Ladie, that accompanied onely with Fidutio my Page, when I had past the limits of your dominion, at that time of day whē the high mounted Sunne makes least shadowes, wearied with travell, and desirous of some shelter from the Sunnes violent rayes; I laid my selfe under the protection of an Olive tree, thinking to set my mutinous thoughts at peace, but it would not be [...] these outward signes could not appease the furie of an inward enemie. Thus I lay, deerly purchasing the little ease of my bodie with the affliction of my minde, untill mine eares like faithfull servants, desirous to end this dissension between their Master and himselfe, caus'd all [Page] the powers of my mind to joine in attentivenes: and mine eies, loath to be out-gone in such good offices, did look that vvay from vvhence the noise came; where I might discerne sixe men arm'd, on horseback, carrie a faire Ladie vvith them, vvhose teares & out-cries vvell shew'd her indispositiō to that journey. This sight mov'd compassiō in me, & pittie brought a desire to help her distresse: but my horse (devining belike my intent, & unwilling to leave his food) could by no meanes be taken; so that madd vvith anger, I began to repeat over all the misfortunes that ever had befaln me, to let this know it wanted no fellowes, when there came posting that way, one whō (by his hast) [...] I ghest to have been of the companie gone before. Of him I intreated to know what fault could be so heinous that might take away the name of injurie frō so unmanly a violence as they offred to so beauteous a Ladie: but he with a scornfull silence smil'd, & would be gone [...] and so perhaps he might, had not the narrownes of the vvay, & his courteous horse, that vvould not tread upon me, compel'd him to stay. Whereat his anger burst forth into these threats: Villain, thy vvant of armour shall not excuse thee from a death wilfully drawn upon thee; and though there be no glorie, there will be satisfaction [Page] in thy overthrowe. Then drawing his horse a little backe, he lighted, & without further complement runnes towards me: but his furie broght him too hastily to his death; for thinking belike his threatning mouth was able to defend it selfe, he forgot to put by my sword, that by good fortune was laid in his way, & so justly his death entred at his mouth, whose life I think vvas in his tongue. At his fall Fidutio came in, vvho helping to fit on the armour, of vvhich we had disfurnisht this unserviceable knight, I mounted on his horse, that seem'd to have regarded my hast more than mine owne: and riding on the spurre, I overtook my companie; for so they vvould needs make themselves, saluting me by the name of their friēd Satibarsis. But their better observance soone put them out of that opinion: so as ghessing (indeed rightly) that I had kil'd Satibarsis, & by that mean got his armour; without desire to be further then by their owne conjecture satisfied, they join'd all hands in his revenge. But the Ladies cause vvas just whose rescue I came too, & the all-seeing providēce (that vvould not see justice overlai'd) fought for me. And now five of them had either receiv'd their wel-deserved paimēt of death, or vvere kept by their wounds from further opposition, vvhen [Page] the sixt (who all this time had held Ladie and lookt on) seeing my hand vvhose vveakenesse had left such presidents of the effects of a good cause, now set against him alone; took his prisoner by the hair, & with his sword gave her a deep woūd in the neck. That inhumane act vvould have givē desire to the most barbarous, & power of revenge to the most cowardly: but he (as if he meant to save me a labour) making hast that their vvarme bloud should meet, with the same sword runnes himselfe thorow, dying as just a ludge as he was a traiterous offendor. Amazement would have fixt mine eies upon him, but the La: vvound brought them to her succour. Experience on my selfe made me skilfull, and my faire patient, officious: so that tying up the wound, for some time I [...]tanch't the bloud. Shee in meane time, with her vvatrie eies bent to heaven-ward, heartily praying for my good fortune, & manie times thanking her destinie that (with her death) had ended the miseries of her ever-dying life. When I had done comforting her (as I thought) with my opinion of her safetie, I intreated to know her name, & the cause of this injurie done to her. No, no, replied she; Courteous strāger, the comfort of my neer-comming death (in spite of the torment the memorie [Page] of my most vvretched life puts me too) brings this cheerfulnesse I now present in my lookes: & though the least delay of my end is accompanied with a vvorld of sorrowes, yet I am glad, for satisfaction of your demand, my breath is a while preserv'd.

My name is Leaucade, the onely daughter to Count Brunio, a man of large possessions in this countrie; whom (you may well think because in expectation of his lands) manie sued for, & those not of the meanest esteeme: but my carelesnesse of love had taught me such a carriage, that further then of the favour of my courtesie (of which they did all indifferently partake) none could boast. And this, till about a yeare since, was my daily practise, disdaining (as most that have not known it, do) so ridiculous a passion as I then esteem'd love. At which time this Fluento, vvhose happie hand hath done us both right, came to my fathers Court [...] a neighbour Prince, with vvhom (for incroaching upon the bounds of his territorie) my father hath had much dissention. But a reconcilement being made betweene them, and both alike thinking the best meanes to perse [...]er in amitie, were to have us two join'd in marriage; without my knovvledge (as i [...] it vvere fit I should be a [Page] stranger to their proceedings) determine of the match. But alas sir, at this time I was so far from being at their dispose, that I was not at my own: for love (I thinke keeping mischiefe untill it vvere ripe for me) had presented a Gentleman to mine eies, by birth noble; whose ancestors, all to his father (being men of known vertue in the countrie) were admitted to the prime offices of the kingdome. but he, taking a pride to be unthriftie, and little esteeming these publick imploimēts, lavish't exceedingly both his fame and patrimonie; yet it seem'd he onely made away his estate to purchase goodnesse for his childe: such a sonne he was father too, so rare, so excellent. His name was Persidas; and at that word the teares gusht forth in such aboundance, that it seem'd her bloud had chang'd his course and colour, to run forth at the sluces of her eies: Alas sir, what shall I say of him, or who from Leaucade will beleeve the desert of Persidas? But alas, if they deserve no credite that love him, in this countrie you must heare nothing of him; the knowledge of his person, & the love of his vertues, being things unseparable. In him begun this tragedie, in me it ends: for when my father & Fluento had drawne their agreements to a head, then, and not before, he thought it time (he [Page] said) to let me know my happines. And thus, finding me alone, he breakes the matter to me: Deere childe, I have ever sithence the death of your vertuous mother (though much importuned by manie) reserv'd you to these years unmarried, because your content should be of counsaile with me in your choise. and happie was this delay for the honour of our house; for behold Fluento makes his fortunes serviceable to your will: Prince Fluento daughter, whose powerfull greatnesse the neighbour Potentates stand in awe of, Him I have won for you; and so forward we be, that this day fortnight he is to take you to wife. Father, said I, that your wisdom hath deferr'd my marriage hitherto to give me the cōfort of electiō, my obedience (my only requital) shalbe the same it ever was to you: and yet I vvonder, that having attain'd to these yeares, vvhen my judgement in my choise may be received, you will exclude me frō the end for wch I vvas so long reserved. Iust like a Physitian that tells his patient he hath brought a potion to cure him, yet saies he must by no meanes take it. I must be married to Prince Fluento, & yet your meaning is, I should have libertie to choose; as if this enforcement destroied not my freedom of election. That he is a man beyōd all respects (as you praise [Page] him) fit for your estate, I may wel grant you: but that he is unfit for your daughter, I am priviledg'd to say. At this his severe look, before he spoke, began to lay before me my obedience: & vvhen he had first walk't two or three turnes in the roome, Daughter, daughter, said he, I never thought you were so wilfull; Where I pray you in this countrey is there a match fit for your birth, if not Fluento? Beware, beware you doe not give your posteritie just cause to curse you, that denied them so great, so good a father. I answered, that I thought it vvere too tender a respect of children, vvhō perhaps I might not have, or should not enjoy, to chuse a father for them, and not a husband for my selfe; and too senselesse a feeling of the honour of my house, to vvrong my self to do my birth right. Then kneeling on my knees, Sir, said I, solicite me no more, I have not power to grant. He hastily, vvhen it vvas scarce delivered, snatcht this vvord: And vvhy not power to grant, said he? Because Persidas is the anchor-hold of my life & love. Persidas, cried out my father! now all misfortune fall thick upō me: shal my meanes help to make up a Bankrout in his estate? Accursed be my Fate, that gave me life to heare it. Persidas! vvhy sure it cannot be. Sir, said I, if my love vvere not farre pass't, [Page] my desperate presumption vvould not bring a truth, much lesse an untruth to move your anger. And if those after-hopes have not cleane compel'd you to forget you are my father, have pitty on me; if so, I crave the tryall of the law. This last request (after conference with Fluento) finding my obstinacie, he condiscended to. But because I perceive sir, you are a stranger heere, and that the knowledge of this law doth much concern the storie of my present mishap, I vvill make it known to you.

This kingdom of Argos, wherein you are, vvas govern'd not long sin [...]e by Phenissa, a vvoman vvorthy to have come to that place by election, if nature had not bestow'd it upon her by discent frō her famous ancestors. This Queene (that you may see vve vvant not the president of greatnesse to excuse affection) in her fathers life time, though by him she was promised to Dioxippus, the tyrant of Syracusa; vvas enamoured of one Eumenes Governour (for the Lacedemonians) of the Island and citie of Delphos. And whē it well might be thoght the kings death & her succession had taken away the restraint of her wil, yet she growing lesse willing when she vvas most powerfull; like a horse that finding the raynes hang loose upon him, begins to stay his fury: so she, though by this change [Page] she had not receiv'd anie slacknesse into her affection, began to tender the case of her country that lay open to the invasion of her proud enemie Deoxippus, if so she would have made him. Preferring therefore now this cōmon respect, before her private satisfaction, as she had done her obedience in her fathers life time before her love; she buries her selfe in the grave of Deoxippus loathsome bed.

When the unexpected newes of Phenissa's marriage came to the eares of her faithfull lover Eumenes, his passiō (as Agamemnons at the death of Iphigenia) can best be exprest in silence: all the wilde furies that distracted griefe could gather, being sū moned to the siege of his soon overthrown heart. hastily thereupon to the Temple his mad passion beares him; where casting himselfe at the feet of Apollo, Vnjust God (said he) have I for this given up thy ungratefulnesse, the offerings of my daily praiers? but if I wrong thy name, shew thy justice in revenging my death: wherat, transported with violence of sorrow, running his head against the Altar, his bloudie braines flew forth of their battered lodging. Soon after, the contagion of a most pestilent ayre brought such a plague among the Argians, that many daily felt the furie of the Gods revenging indignation: amongst whom, the king [Page] and Queene (reserved belike, the more to be punished in their subjects calamitie) after the desolatiō of their wel-peopled country, both in one day, by the same infection, ended their lives and government; wherewith this mortalitie ceafed, as hitting now at length the marke it aim'd at.

The few remanēt of the Nobilitie sent to Delphos to know what fault of theirs had brought these miseries upon their country; where being inform'd of what was past, Apollo advis'd them to provide that no such mischiefe should after happen. They well weighing whence it arose, being fully satisfied by the Oracle, enact this law: That neyther private nor publick respect shall detaine a virgin from revealing her love. & if her friends or parēts thinks another then she hath chosen, more fit for her, the combate between them two shall determine the Gods pleasure. How unwilling I was to hazzard my Persidas in this triall, love that bleeds in the thought of a danger, can best assure you: but his earnestnesse that it might be so, and the hard constraint that it could not be otherwise, won me to it.

The day therefore being appointed, Fluento (upon whō Fame, the flatterer of greatnesse, had pin'd the opiniō of valour) entred the lists, mounted on [Page] a bay Courser, whose armour all over represented a greene Plaine, through wch ran little rivelets of bloud that sprung frō the wounds of manie Centaures, dispearc't over all the field. In his shield he bore the counterfeit of Hercules & Deianira, with this word, [...]ndeer'd by Conquest. From him my Persidas drew the eyes & hearts of all the company: his horse was a fierie sorrell: his armour like the azure skie, curiously spotted with manie starres, (vvhose glimpse the vvell set Diamonds, by reflection of the Sun, represented) shewed as if night had flowen thither to end in that assembly, some controversie betweene her & her brother. In his shield he caus'd Andromada and Perseus to be ingraven, vvith this vvord, Never too deerly bought. But I must hasten to the event, said she; for long I finde you may not enjoy your Historian: Know therefore that my Persidas, contenting himself only with the victorie, vvhen he might have taken (wo is me that he vvas so mercifull) Fluento's life, vvas accepted by my father for his sonne in law; good fortune, as I then thought, changing my husband, & not my day of marriage. In meane time Fluento, repining at his disgrace, and desirous even upon the basest tea [...]mes to be revenged, plotted a treacherie unheard of against him. This morning, [Page] having before heard we were to hunt in this forrest, Fluento (with that companie your valor hath brought to their deserved ends) lay in wait for us: and when my selfe & my Persidas (Count Bruni [...] my father and the rest having followed the chase) were left alone, behold these bloudie villaines, cō ming unawares upon him, with manie vvounds sent hi [...] soule to that place, vvhither mine (hoping to finde a more lasting union in that life, then our loves hath found in this) doth also hasten. & with this word, her dull languishing eyes began to roll as if they strove to reserve motiō in spite of death; yet raising her selfe a little, her love found breath to say this, Let me be buried by my Persidas: and so grasping my hand, as it vvere to put me in mind of her last words, alas she dyes.

But manie teares I could not have bestowed as obsequies upon her, vvhen some of her fathers traine, vvho by chance crossing that way vvhere Persidas lay dead, guided by Fidutio (who, vvith their helps had now taken my horse) came to this place; to whom vvhen I had related all vvhat I learn'd from Leaucade of Persidas his death, together vvith her last vvill, vvee all join'd hands in carrying her to the next village: vvhither also certaine of their fellowes (vvhom they had left behinde [Page] to that end) conveyed the bodie of Persidas; from whence soone after, Count Brunio (having begg'd of griefe a little respite of life to fulfill his daughters testament) brought them both, with all funerall pomp, to his chiefe citie Coniga, vvhere he [...]aus'd a stately Tombe to be built for them, on which this Epitaph vvas ingraven:

Love, Beauty, Valour, when their death drew nye

Consulted long, where they should buried lye:

At length with one consent they hastned hither,

And chose this place to be intomb'd together.

Leaving the wofull kingdom of Argos, no better accōpanied then with Fidutio, yet better guarded by Satibarsis armor; my sorrow I think that bore infection with it, made all places where I came fit stages for tragedies: for descending unto a green valley, where of each side the rocky mountains threatned the humble earth with the frowns of their downe-cast browes, I might see a young man leaning with both hands on his sword, breathing as overtoyl'd with labour, and round about him foure or five cast prostrate at his feete, who vvere dead, or thoght their counterfeiting so to be vvould prove their best defence against this young mans furie. But the clashing of my armor had no [...]ooner made known my approach, then he came [Page] running towards me, uttering vvords whereby I might gather his quarrell to me brought the excuse of mistake with it. Not to draw on therfore his misconceived opiniō, that his breathlesse companions did witnes would be dangerous for me; Sir, replyed I, I am so farre from maintaining their cause, vvhose revenge upon a lone man, being so manie, mine owne eyes do perswade me vvas injurious, that had I come at the beginning of your fight (though this event shewes I should but have rob'd you of part of the honour of this action) I vvould have joyn'd my selfe to you.

Alas sir, said he, to oppose your selfe against me, (though it vvere the more unjust) would be the most secure vvay: for vvhat you see, is but a fore-runner of a certain destructiō soon at hand. Leave me therfore, courteous [...]ir, & seek for safety; death to me is so gratefull, that I envie you should be a partner in so great a gaine. But it were a fault unpardonable to have abandoned the most accomplisht man, that ever mine eyes, before that time, beheld: my resolution therefore, though hard against his will, must have prevail'd vvith him; so that intreating to know the cause of his former fight, & further doubt, I found his courtesie as forward in the relation of his own danger, as it was [Page] obstinate in the care of my safetie.

Sir, said he, seeing my storie will be but a heape of misfortunes, I shall do wel to lay the foundatiō my selfe, then vvhom the Sunne looks not upon a more miserable creature: My name is Cari [...]lio, nephew (by his brother Castor) to the king of Natolia, brought up in my youth in the good opinion of my uncle, and the great expectation of manie; Fortune then belike proroguing my miseries until a more serious age should make me more sensible of them [...] vvhich time had no sooner brought on, but that my ill fate, to traine me up for the burden of the mischiefe that vvas prepar'd for me, began by little & little to make me acquainted with the course I vvas to run; first taking away my father, vvhose vertuous age deserved (if that may be thought a recompence for desert) a longer time in this life: vvhen he vvas dead, & that the slipperie steps of my rash youth vvanted the stay of his fatherly advice, presently (not knowing vvhat one mans hands I should put the raynes of my then unbridled youth into, and yet well seeing I might not trust my [...]elfe vvith mine owne government) I chose manie friends; and being by nature given to hate pride, to eschue a vice so loath [...]ome (thinking it might not be done otherwise) I began to [Page] affect popularitie. But I had scarce liv'd thus a twelue-month, vvhen my cousin the kings sonne, a yong man, who (besides the hope of succession, for vvhich the Courtiers did adore him) had nothing more then ordinary in him, grew suspicious of my practises, as he term'd them: to wch humor (besides the mistrust of his owne little desert) his Sycophants, the bellowes of this fire, did daily add further causes to encrease his jealousie. But seeing the discoverie of his suspicion vvould little please the king, vvho ever since the death of my father had doubled his care upon me; he vvas compel'd to dissemble a good liking towards me. In meane time a truce, made for some few yeares vvith the Duke of Amasia, being expir'd, the vvar grew hote on both sides: at length, after the triall of manie changes in fortune, necessitie mediating a peace betweene them, my selfe being given as hostage for performance of certain cōditions of my uncles part, a perpetuall league vvas concluded on [...] 'twas now, and not before, mischiefe began to unmaske her selfe, and take a pride to grow terrible. There vvas at Court during my abode there, attending upō the Dutchesse, a Lady by name Alcida, whose many excellencies won as many hearts as she had beholders, nature making her beautie & shape but [Page] the most faire Cabinet of a farre fayrer mind. To her mine eyes at first sight gave up my heart, with so fortunate an encounter in affectiō, that this surrender vvas but a mutuall exchange; she having in a mercifull gratefulnes, fixt her love one mine. But her parentage, though not base, was so meane in respect of my birth, that thence vvhole armies of afflictions did invade my mind; equally distracted betweene my desire to enjoy this my best of happines, and feare of my uncles displeasure, on whom this match (for his care and love of me) I was sure vvould draw on an untimely death. But before I could determine a doubt of [...]o great consequence, the conditions of the league being faithfully performed; I was safely at a day prefixt, sent back to Natolia, desirous (even in my soule desirous, I am sure) rather by their breach of covenant to have hazzarded my life, then thus cruelly to be taken away from her presence, vvho (far beyond my life) was most deere to me. Soone after my returne, the king (as if the Gods had stay'd him to see the quiet of his State, now that vvas brought to passe, worne vvith age, and much broken vvi [...]h travell & care in his last warrs) left his kingdome to his degenerate sonne & successor; who had no sooner seized upon the government, but meaning [Page] to begin his raigne vvith an admirable act of policie, now his power vvas unrestrain'd, limits me to the absence from my countrey, declaring my bloud for ever uncapable of succession: and not content vvith this, to such a height his undeserved malice to me vvas raised, that he dealt vvith some bad ministers of his wickedness, secretly to make me away. To prevent therfore vvhat vvas plotted against me (disguising my selfe) I hastily fled away, & making use of necessity to further my affection, I put my self into the service of a Nobleman here in the Court of Amasia; easily remaining undiscovered, among them who vvould sooner fall out vvith their eyes, then beleeve that the greatnesse wherein they lately had seene me, could admit so great a change: By meane vvhereof, I enjoyed the presence of my Alcida, whose constancie neither time nor absēce (the mothes of affectiō) nor vvhat is more, this my change in fortune, could alter.

Thus vvhile I liv'd in this happinesse of servitude, Mermidon (brother to the Duke) having commanded with fortunate successe against the Dazians, returned to Court; vvhere seeing this Lady, he became enamoured of her, to no other end then to satisfie his lust: and thinking at first (because he vvas in good esteem [...] vvith himselfe) she vvould [Page] have strain'd her modestie to sue for the acceptāce of a present so gratefull to him, a while he was silent; but when he perceived the vanitie of his fruitlesse expectation, & found that this delay encreas'd the fury of his passion, dispensing with the Matie he had taken on, he began to make known his love to her (for such a title did he give to so base a desire) forgetting not vvithal to tell her, that to excuse her modestie, he had first spoken her wishes. But the vertuous Alcida loathing as much the thought of such a sinne, as shee loved the memorie of me, (together with a [...]esolute deniall) let him know how base his minde was that made so injurious a request. Wherat Mermidon, because this answer came unexpected, was so much the more amazed. But bringing arguments from his late practise in the warre, he began to think his honor would be the greater, if after long resistance, he did surprise a well defended fort: & therefore daily both by rich gifts, the base enamell of affection, & manie promises (wch to win the more upon her, were sent by one of her owne sexe, who, if example might move her, could tell of such a president in her [...]elfe) did he seeke to undermine her resolution. Meane time my constant Alcida seeing the intēperance of Mermidons lust to bring the threats [Page] of force with it, not daring to speake with me, because our conference began to be suspected, sent me a letter to hasten her carrying away, appointing this the fatall place of our meeting.

I much rejoyc'd to be so neere my happinesse, the rather, that since our last conference I received intelligence, that my young cousin of Natolia being made away by one whom he had rais'd to an undeserved height in his favour, the countrey was in great distresse by the factious ambition of the Nobilitie, and that the best affected to the State, much desired my presence. But these meanes, how well soever as I thought, conducing to my happinesse, by the unmercifulnesse of my hard destinie were prevented, as one of those, whom 'twas my fortune to kil, at his death revealed: for Mermido [...] having intercepted the messenger, mad with rage to finde his hopes crost by so meane a man, as he tooke me to be; having again seal'd up the letter, he caus'd it to be delivered, and determining to be reveng'd, sent these men to apprehend me, himself intending to follow presently, leading with him my deerest Alcida, whom in my presence (to ad a glorie to the execrablenes of the offence) he means to ravish. And now sir, you have heard (said he) all what my selfe knowes of my birth & fortune, [Page] ever till this time (when I am well assur'd my end is neere at hand) kept secret.

He scarce had clos'd up this lamentable storie with a heartie sigh, the compendious abridgment of his sufferings, when we might discerne Mermidon with twentie more (so distrustful is treachery, though there be no cause to feare) make towards us: but that sight, together with the thought of Alcida's distresse, was a signall sufficient for Cariclio to begin his unequall encounter; so as like a shee Tygre, who at her returne to her cave findes her little ones to be stoln, with a wilde furie, breathing nothing but destruction, he runnes amongst them, making way for my willingnesse to second his attempt. A while the justnes of the cause, and Cariclio's valour (to wch the glorie is onely due) with the death of manie, did hold the victory in an equall ballance: at length the multitude of our assaylants made injurie the stronger, bringing to a death much to be pittied so incomparable a man at Armes as vvas Cariclio; yet not before he had (in the sight of Alcida) sent Mermidon to be his harbinger at Carons Ferry. And when by his death, the onely stay & support of the fight was removed, if sometimes my desire of revenge made good the groūd Cariclio had bequeath'd me, alas how could [Page] I long resist without him? Know therfore, excellent Lady, that here I was made prisoner, & together with Alcida, carried back to Court, though (I call Cariclio's ghost to witnes) I sought all meane [...] to joine my selfe, even in death, a companiō to his vertues. The solemnitie intended for our execution, & the preparation of new formes of torment, for us that had beene parties in the murther of the Dukes brother, won some lingring daies of life to the inward torture of our expectation. in meane time the everlasting providence (that by changing the intentions and doomes of men, will let them know, there is a power beyond theirs) sent an unexpected meane to helpe our distresse.

Plangus the famous Prince of Iberia, at this time making hast with a few such as vertue had join'd partners in his cause, & taking into his Army such of Evarcus souldiers as in a tēpest at Sea were driven to Byzantium, to the succour of Erona, (vvhose storie you cannot be ignorant of) & being to passe thorow Amasia, sent to the Duke to demand a through-fare for his souldiers. But he who of long time had observed an unviolable league vvith the Armenians, knowing the pretence of this warre, & despising the weaknesse of those few Plangus led with him, not only denied his request, but gathering [Page] a great power of souldiers (whom since his last warres he had kept in garrison in his frontier townes) meant, with the overthrow of her ungratefull nephew, to gratifie Artaxia and her ill chosen husband Plexertus. But the excellent Plangus (then whom this age shewes not, for conduct in vvarre, a better Generall) with the well ordering those few resolu [...]e Troupes, & skilfull industrie in choise of advantages; in two [...]et battailes put him to the vvorst: After vvhich the Duke, not able to reinforce his weakened power, put himselfe (vvith the relicks of his late overthrow) into his chiefe citie, vvherein vvee vvere prisoners; to which Plangus, finding no open resistance, vvith vvondrous celeritie followed him. And though the town by Nature & Art for site & forti [...]ication vvere thought impregnable, yet being defended but by such vvho by their owne losse held a too superstitious opinion of the enemies, it was soon forc't by Plangus his victorious Troupes, vvho beleeved the successe of nothing impossible, to wch their ever-fortunate Captaine vvould lead them. With the sack of this citie (vvherein he tooke the Duke, vvith his sonne, prisoners) Plangus having enrich't his souldiers vvith the bootie, & his ovvn fame by the speedinesse of the conquest, not able [Page] to assure the countrey to his devotion, otherwise then by dismembring his Armie, and delaying his chiefe ends; mov'd vvith a necessarie clemencie, having first received six moneths pay for his souldiers, and the Dukes sonne as hostage, to barre his desire of revenge, (making Alcida and my selfe, to secure our freedomes, companions in his travaile) he leaves the Amasians to th [...]ir former governmēt.

Manie dayes journey we had not beene in our way to Armenia, when the good Alcida, by the inward vvorking of her thoughts, began to find [...]he burden of her griefe too heavy for her; wch when the dulness of her ever-watry eyes, & the paleness of her cheekes had bewray'd to us, we carried her to a Monasterie neer adjoyning, dedicated to Diana, & much fam'd for the strictnesse of the Virgins orders that be attendants on the Goddesse her ceremonies: where, having recōmended her to the governesse of the house, alas I left her, bound even by the greatest tye of gratefulnesse to follow him whom I ought my life to.

These former accidents, most deare Lady, together with the excellent Plangus his companie, in vvhom sorrow vvas drawne to the life, made me reflect upon my ungratefull selfe, & consider how [...]ruell I had beene to you, whose desert pass'd my [Page] best endeavours of requital: so that (farre ingag'd to the memorie of your vertues) thenceforth the thoght of my most deer H [...]llen, vvon my heart to a most passionate affectiō. The Qu [...] [...]t this interrupted his speech, with this answer: My A [...]phialus, they who [...]ollow example [...] in their actions, are [...]o match rightly vvhat they are to do, & vvhat they see done. Leaucade, Alcida, and Fro [...]a might justly claime the reward of love but Hellen (vvhose desert vvas far [...]e short) could expect but disdaine. Disdaine, said Amphialus! you renue a punishmēt. your mercie did once forgive. And here, vvith teares in his eyes, hee vvould have kneel'd to begge a further pardon: but Hellen, kissing away the burthen his eyes vvent vvith, made as much hast to prevent his suit vvith the like of her own. so that a [...]riendly cōposition being made (as it wel might be vvhere both vvere parties, & both Iudges in one cause) the Q got the continuāce of the story (wch Amphi [...]lus vvould put off to another time) to boot And then, willing to discharge him [...]elf of the debt he ought for so good a bargain, he thus began.

Madam; though my memorie be a continued record of much sorrow, yet among the manie stories griefe hath engraven in me, there is none compar'd vvith the disaster of Plangus and Erona, that [Page] deserves compassion: Know therefore, my onely happinesse, that Plangus having received advertisement how the Nobleman, unto vvhose faithfull custodie Erona (upon the accord betweene him & Artaxia) vvas delivered, being hardly besieg'd by Plexer [...]us, & brought to an extremitie by famine, had yeelded to a composition; that if vvithin five dayes he vvere not succour'd he must deliver the Castle. Plangus therefore overrunning the fame of his cōming with his presence, the fif [...] night was neere Plexertus Campe, vvhere (by one of the enemies, whō his Scouts had taken) he vvas inform'd that late that evening, the keyes of the citie & Fort vvere given up to Plexertus, but that he deferr'd his entry till morning, leaving the next gate to the Campe open, that all night his officers might prepare a magnificēt triumph for him [...] as for Erona, he vvould determine nothing of her, untill he had received the honour due to his victorie. At these newes Plangus, causing the reporter to be safely kept, & giving to his vvearied souldiers som time to refresh themselves, af [...]er the toile endur'd in their last daies travell, an houre before day (rightly imagining the aire vvas then apt to disperse a dull [...]leepinesse among Plexertus carelesse souldiers) he calls his Troupes together: & setting before them [Page] the easines of the victorie, the riches of the Camp, and the necessitie of the time; he did incourage them with the repetitiō of their former conquest in Amasia, the justnesse of their cause, & the fame o [...] their enterprise. and then presently disposing of them for his most advantage, he sets upon his enemie, who dream'd of nothing but securitie. But what should I fright you, most deare Ladie, vvith the particulars of this fight? It will suffice you know, that Plangus (doing things in his own person, past the power of expression) made a bloudy slaughter among them. Som few there vvere that escaped, among vvhom Plexertus (fortune being alway indulgent to mischiefe) found, in the speed of his horse, a dishonourable safeguard for his wretched life. This t [...]mult being soone perceiv'd by the citizens (vvhom sorrow made vvatchfull, and the well-knowne treacheries of Plexertus, suspicious) they as soon imagined this vvas a practise of his, contrarie to his faith givē, to sack the town. This once conceited, it seemed by the hideous cryes and confused lamentations, that, as sorrow had put on the vizzard of night to make griefe ugly; so black night had borrowed the mouth of sorrow to implore compassion. The people leaving their vvalls and houses, ran to their [Page] Temples and Altars, offering up (as they thought) their last devotions to their Gods. Nor did this mistake bring forth the effect of mistrust onely in the Citie: the Campe had likewise this feare added to their present misfortune. for Plexertus souldiers (like Satyres, frighted with the sound of the horne themselves blow) thinking the Vantguard of the enemie had entred the towne, and caus'd this confusion; durst not venture to make themselves maisters of it. But betweene both, unable to determine of a meane of safetie, stood fixt in a stupid irresolution.

Meane time Aurora, vvearie of aged Titons bed, began to vvarne Phebe of her brothers approach; vvhen Erona, vvho had set downe in her setled judgement, a death vvorthie the greatnesse of her birth, now first giving eare to the cryes of the citizens, & misdoubting the same false measure they expected: & not long after, hearing a man arm'd comming up the staires to her lodging, she took a poysoned cuppe (long before for that end prepar'd) and making hast lest she should be made a present to the proude Conqueror the vvicked Plexertus, shee dranke more then halfe vvhen her eyes met with the eyes of Plangus, who (infortunate Gentleman) desirous to be the messenger [Page] to Erona of Erona's freedome, had made [...]his hast. The sight of Plangus stay'd her full draught a while; but unable to satisfie her selfe how he might come thither, she began to imagine that it was the force of the poyson which dimm'd her eyes, and plac't the character of Plangus (ever present to her minde) upon each object. With this thought she vvas readie to begin againe, vvhen Plangus, falling at her feet, let her know the event of so manie dangers undergone for her: Whereat Erona being much astonished, lifting him up from the ground, thus said; Prince Plangus, you come in a fit time to receive a heartie vvelcome, and as heartie a farewell. What I meane by this leave-taking, alas you vvill too soone know: now suffer me, only at such a time, vvhen the end vvill assure you I did not flatter, speake a few vvords. I would have you beleeve, yet I am sorrie, for your sake, I have practis'd such a meane to vvorke a beleefe in you: True it is, most excellent Plangus (nor let that truth accuse me of inconstancie) that since the death of Antiphilus, whose memorie even at this time is deere to me, though at first the excesse of sorrow had clos'd up my mind from the thought of a second choyse; yet enforc't by your desert, and to reward mine own love in rewarding your desires, [Page] I vvas resolv'd to satisfie you, and make my self happie. but my envious Fate, finding the times fit to cause me to despair, hath made your selfe the instrument to barre our hopes for ever. Deere Erona, replyed the Prince, what may there now be that the most partiall judgement can equall to the excesse of content Plangus enjoyes in the welfare of his free and loving Erona? For this I have pay'd the mercifull heavens the tribute of my vowes & teares: to this harbour, through the Sea of griefe, (having imbarqu't my carefull love in the ship of my desire) I have alway bent my course; & shall I now, vvhen my vvishes be at anchor in so secure a haven, feare fortune? No, no, most deere Ladie; you are the life and being of vvhat I only esteeme happie. Alas Plangus, said the sweet Erona, the testimonies of your love have beene so manie, that I feare (and only feare) they vvho have heard your undeserved affection, and are not present at this my dying protestation, will for ever record (together with my want of judgement) my injurie to your vertues. Your dying protestation, said Plangus! affright not my soule with such h [...]avie news. Long may you live: the Fates must be indulgent to your youth and beautie. And perhaps, said she, so they might, had not my selfe hastened Clotho to [Page] cut in two the halfe-spun threed of my life. And then she let him know how (to prevent the tortu [...]es and disgraces Artaxia's indignation had prepar'd for her, seeing the citie brought to that desperate state in which he found it, and thinking himselfe to have beene an officer sent by Plexertus to bring her before him) she had poysoned her selfe. Plangus at these last words (with a fixt look upon Erona, as if his eyes would for ever dwel there) indenting his hands & suffering them to fall down, or rather not able to stay them, sinkes to the ground; and was a while happie in this excesse of sorrow, that made him senslesse of all sorrow. Erona would have forc't her selfe to help him, but this sight (join'd with the inward working of the poyson) constrain'd her to beare him companie in his happie forgetfulnesse of his misfortunes. But when, by the help of her women, her senses were restor'd, & that my endevours wrought the same effect on Plangus: as if this had beene but griefes dumb show; Alas excellent Prince, said she, what unexpected effects hath the speech of my death brought forth! and yet though I were silent, I beleeve these deadly signes in mine eie [...], this trembling in my full-swolne veynes, & the often set and rise of the blood in my cheekes, would expresse it. [Page] But my Plangus; should you, whom the world is proude of, take it so to heart? Erona loves you: why so may a more deserving Ladie. yet Plangus remember me, and it will be the best part of my soules li [...]e to live in your memorie. Then taking his hand, and placing it on her heart, that now proudly began to beate the loud alarum of death; Feele he [...]e, said she, the batterie is begun, and this Fort is abandoned of all the powers of life [...] only my desire to be with you, desperately a while keepes the breach. But ô my Plangus. and at that word death clos'd up (in eternall silēce) her tongue that yet stil mov'd, as loath to leave her speech imperfect.

It was a desperate griefe, & wilde passion, that seiz'd upon the heart of the poore Plangus. Accursed earth, did he say, how darest thou support the burthen of these many mischiefs, cast by the spitefull heavens into this sinke of miserie? 'Twas I, Erona, brought an untimely set to thy sun shine of goodnesse. and doe the heavens meane I should breathe, that have so much wrong'd them? What do they do? will they heare me speake that kill'd Erona? But they would have me live, to torture me with the memorie of my guilt. No no; I will prevent their project: that were a punishment fit [Page] for an ill-meant offence, not an infortunate. And with these words, drawing his sword, & lifting up his Bases, he would have run himselfe through the belly: but I stay'd his hand from so unmanly (as I then alleag'd it) a violence, forcing (wi [...]h the remembrance of our friendship, & my much-prevayling teares) the sword, but not his resolution, from him. Then did I begin to alleage all that I thought in reason might remove him from his purpose: for well I might see in the unappal'd stayednesse of his countenance, the greatnesse of some determination. To all my objections, for a time his eyes gave a more heedfull attention, than did his eares: But vvhen I came to call his valour in question, whose unspotted memorie hitherto, I said, this last inconsiderate act vvould accuse of a little firme constancie, in bearing the changes of fortune; Alas, said he, and will you my friend be cruell to me? Is it certaine Amphialus, that it vvell becomes that courage you would have in your friend, to bear an equal temper both in the frowns and smiles of fortune? and is it not as certain, that when the malice of heaven hath join'd with fortune in producing a monstrous effect, there cannot be left in man so infinit a power of suffering, which he dare oppose to such unlimitted works? [Page] No, I will not gyant-like bandy against the Gods: such is their will; I must die. Then leading mee softly over to Erona, as if he would perswade me the violence of passion had not beene his guide to this resolution; See Amphialus, said he, this is shee whom you would have me to live after [...] what can mine eyes, now she is gone, desire to look on? Erona, a woman, could dye for Plangus; & vvould you have me wrong mankind vvith a greater fear of death, or my love vvith a lesse desire to dye? This said (but with a countenance that promis'd no suddennesse in the execution, especially to me vvho was Master of his sword, his only offensive vveapon) behold with a downe-cast look (vvhich sorrow excus'd, though deceit had then, I am sure, put it on to further mischiefe) and such a pace as used slownesse to the same end, he approach't the vvindow; vvhere the remain of Erona's intercepted draught, appointed by the destinies to be fatall to them both, stood in a gilt cup: this he hastily takes, & as hastily drinkes off. I, all confus'd, pale, and trembling (as if the poyson had vvrought its effect in me) made, alas, too slow speed to him. But Plangus, (now first presenting an unfayned cheerefulnesse in his lookes, as if this draught had given him life) kneeling neer Erona; Divine soule, [Page] said he, if confidence in thy Plangus constancie makes thee hover neere this sacred mansion of thine, to see the end of his suffrings, ô stay a while and beare me with thee: thy presence, vvhen I appeare before Radamanth, will be a countenance to my cause. Then turning himselfe to me; Amphialus, Revenge (Amphialus) Erona's death upon the vvicked Plexertus: his blood vvill be the best sacrifice to my ghost. Leade the Armie to Byzantiū, and restore the Amasian hostage. Then putting his trembling lips to the pale lipps of Erona, he coldly kiss'd away his life.

What my sorrow vvas to be a looker on these tragedies, these teares, even at the remembrance of that time, may testifie: yet leaving the bodies to be imbalmed (vvith the Nobleman, vvho in her life time had been faithfull to Erona) dissembling the death of Plangus, lest it should vvork an innovation among the souldiers; vvith some choyse Troupes of light horsemen I followed Plexertus, who posting to Court, had received advertisemēt from thence, how Arguto (the admirable engine by whom he vvrought much mischiefe) being lately falne from the faith vowed to his practises, had reveal'd to Artaxia the purpose his Master had to dispatch her out of his vvay, since now he had [Page] a soone by her to vvhom he might be guardian: esteeming it more content to be great alone, than to share the royalties of her own kingdom with Artaxia. These newes made his flight as dangerous as would be his stay: but vvhen he understood (for the heavens had made this the rendevow vvhere his misfortunes should meete) that the Princes of Thessaly and Macedon (of vvhom his treacheries vvere to expect their just reward) did live, and should be happie in the addition of Arcadia to their greatnesse: that Leonatus had seiz'd upon his seigniories in Trebisond for his treason to Pyrocles and Musidorus, of which not long before he had gloriously boasted: that there vvas no new forme of dissimulation left, to which in this extremitie he might have recourse; O then the uglinesse of his guiltie conscience, that untill this time had made peace with his wickednesse, presented before him the progresse of his ill-spent dayes, drawne to life in the colours of despaire: now his father, now his friends, Tideus and Telenor were summon'd by his soule to make partie against him. In this affright he continued all that day, which scarce was time sufficient for him to reade over his misdeedes: and when the silent night, drawne in he [...] Ebon Chariot, had spred her [Page] curtaines to hide her brothers face, Plexertus (glad to see her flatter his mind in this likenesse of darknesse) resolv'd, by despaire, that the Godds wanted mercie for his faults, & well assured men had lesse; he secretly vvent into a Garden, to vvhich a back doore from his chamber led him: where, loathing as much to die, as wishing he vvere dead, he spent some time in execrations on himselfe. At length, tying a cord (newly taken out of his bed) to the stump of an Elder tree (that stood with such conveniencie as if it would invite him to that exercise) he slipt into his death, easing the earth untill morning of the burthen of so detestable a wretch.

But when the day appear'd, & made knowne his death, the magistrates of the towne (striving vvho could be best sighted in the discoverie of the murther, hoping to have the reward of their diligence from their Queene Artaxia) soone found out, as a man to be most suspected, the messenger come from Court, vvhom Plexertus had (till late in the night) kept in his chamber, to know of him the particulars o [...] Arguto's revolt. This fellow, because none more likely, in the vvilde form of their popular justice, vvas to dye a thousand manner of deathes: But he, making just protestations of his innocencie, being questioned vvhat occasion he [Page] had so long to stay the last night vvith the King, if not for that end. He plainly let them know, vvhat Arguto discover'd; wch he then reported to Plexertus. The many-headed multitude called not the truth much in question of vvhat they heard, but vvith the same violence as before (every one in this also thinking to gratifie the Queene) ran to as uncertaine a forme of execution on the dead, as they did before to a judgement of the living: first they stript the bodie naked, then dragg'd it through the streets; now they open his belly, and suffer his gutts to marke forth his progresse, doing many mo indignities to him vvho had deserved many more. I much rejoyc'd to heare Plexertus had beene so just to himselfe: yet I determined to join Erona's revenge on Artaxia (to Plexertus his judgemēt on himselfe) but her an untimely death had freed from my revenge. for taking to the heart Plexertus his treacheries, & her brother Teridates unrevenged death, she calmely gave her selfe over to a life oppressing griefe, leaving her kingdome & young sonne to the care of Salindor, vvhom she appointed Protector during the minoritie.

Returning therefore somewhat grieved that both Plangus and Er [...]na's death, without my help [Page] had beene revenged, I conveyed the bodies to Lycia, vvhere the sumptuousnesse of their Tombes shewes their estates, and their everlasting fame their everliving vertues. From hence I vvould have parted private; but remembring Plangus his last will, I pass'd thorow [...]masia, restoring his son to the Duke: and comming to Byzantium, I gave up my charge into the hands of Lisantus a Macedonian, leaving the souldiers full of heartie sorrow for the death of Plangus their Generall.

Soone after, hearing of your death, and resolv'd to sacrifice my blood to your memorie, to disingage my selfe of some part of my faultinesse; leaving Fidutio in Thrace (lest by him I should be discovered) disguising my selfe in an armour, fitly (as I thought) presenting the massacre of my naked heart: passing the Courts of Elis & Argos, & lastly comming hither, I met (what should I more say?) with thee my Hellen, reserv'd to be a blessing beyond vvhat most I could desire. And so vvith a sincere fervencie kissing her hand, they both walk't towards the Pallace: where having ended Supper, vvhile Basilius and Evarcus (vvith the rest) expected a Maske, prepar'd for them; the Queene of Corinth let them know what she had heard of Plangus & Erona, together vvith Plexertus [Page] deserved end, and the death of Artaxia. The audience greatly pittied their fortunes, especially Pyrocles, vvho much griev'd to heare of Plangus his death, for the love he bore his vertues; & vvas no lesse troubled at Plexertus his mischance, for his deere servant Zelmanes sake. But the entry of the Maskers caus'd him put over those thoughts to more solitarines, his eye being fed vvith a daintie varietie of representations, and his eares vvith most harmonious well-agreeing musick: to wch the footing kept so good time, that doubtfull it was whether the musick conform'd it selfe to the life of their motion, or the Maskers their motion to the musicks livelinesse. But night (mask't in these sports) crept on undiscover'd: and though Pyrocles and Musidorus at other times would dispence with the length of the sports, yet now (in respect of the armfulls of joy they vvere to expect in bed) they thought them tedious; which once perceiv'd, their dances were sooner at an end then was intended.

Thus dayes & nights past over, as if they had no other Spheare then delight to move in; & the appointed time for Amphialus his marriage was at hand: to which Basilius invited the Shepheards, both to chāge their daily pleasures, as also to shew [Page] Evarcus, that though a greater cause had mov'd him to the solitarie course of life by him imbrac't; yet the witts of Arcadia, and the pleasantnesse of their harmelesse life, might have drawne him to that retirednesse.

The Eclogves.

Kalydolus now minded to marrie his daughter, and uncertain whether he should bestow her on the contented young Arcadian Menaleas, or the much-having, much-wanting Thessalian Coridon, who both vvere then present, hearing of this summons; puts over their cause to be determined by Basilius: And Strephon and Klaius, no lesse desirous to bring Vrania's name to Court, joined themselves to the rest. Nor was Agelastus wāting, who not for a Mistris but Heraclitus-LIKE thinking man, was made to mourne; & repining at the vanitie of greatnesse, had maintain'd a religious sorrow. No sooner was the companie set, and that their silence began to proclaime their expectation, but Strephon who before his comming had prepar'd an Epithalanium, began thus to sing.

Str.

Sweet linck of hearts, joyes surest anchor-hold,

Loves peacefull Crowne, the harbour of desires.

Hymen approach, but think not Pan too bold,

If to invoke thy name our love aspires.

[Page]

Dwell heere for ever, that this couple may

Renew the blessings of their marriage day.

Firme be their roote of love, and cause a blisse

From forth this royall happie stock to spring;

That all the world may justly say he is

Vvorthy to be, and to succeed a king.

But shorten not their dayes; for 'tis decreed,

The best can be, but worthy to succeed.

Amphialus thankt Strephon, for his heartie wishes: but he had scarce ended, when Klaius looking upon him with as sower a countenance as their friendship could allow; thus said.

Kla.

I pray thee Strephon, if these glorious showes,

Of Courts admired greatn [...]sse, do not close

Thy mind, frō former thoughts, where can thy layes,

Finde other subject then Vrania's prayse?

Or dost thou fondly thinke, thou wert too blame,

To breathe among these Lords Vrania's name?

Or is it certaine that her flames in thee

Are quench't, that lately doubled were in mee?

Str.

Nor so, nor thus; that verse I last day made,

As with my flock I sate in Hestars shade:

I studied it; yet all my studie was

I vow, to strive to let Vrania passe.

[Page]

For'twas the only name my pen would write,

My thoughts imagine, or my lipps indite.

Am I not bold, when nights vast stage is set,

And all the starres and heavenly audience met,

To speake my mind, while their bright twinkling flame

Seemes to rejoyce to heare Vrania's name?

And shall I feare, that what the heavens approv'd,

By men (though great men) should be disallow'd?

But where you thinke that I have check't mine eye,

And freed your Strephon from their treacherie:

O no, mine is the Gyant Tithius maw

That doth encrease to feele a Vulturs paw.

No day runnes over, but my loves deepe sore

Renues his paine, and festers more and more:

Kla.

No day runs over but our loves deepe sore

Renues his paine, and festers more and more!

Alas, where's pittie then? belike it flyes

The place we come too, frighted with our cryes.

Str.

Pittie; why friend 'tis certaine that their eyes

Vvho know they can or' come, learne to despise.

Yet Klaius why should we repine? our Saint

Is pleas'd sometime to heare our loves complaint.

And if mine eyes (to ease my inward paine)

Become not flatterers, she doth not disdaine.

[Page]Kla.

Disdaine! that were a blisse, so great a waight

Might lift our sorrowes to their utmost haight:

And then perhaps our owne despaire would mend

Our lingring hopes, that must or breake, or bend.

O no, ours is a worse calamitie,

A heedlesse care, and carelesse courtesie.

Then Klaius pawsing a while, with crost armes and a down-cast look, began againe these following Verses to Strephon, whom he spake to as representing the person of sorrow.

Kla.

Foule sorrow, wilt thou alway build thy nest

In the wilde mountaines of my care-swolne brest?

Str.

O yes, I finde it happy for my breed,

And neere your heart whereon I use to feed.

Kla.

But gentle griefe, if not for pittie, spare

Me, for Vrania's sake: she hath a share

In these my wounds, and she must feele the smart

Vvhose image's carv'd so lively in my heart.

Str.

O no, she shares no paine, from whose faire eyes

The wound did first, and now the cure must rise.

Kla.

Vvhy gentle griefe, thou'rt witnesse of my love,

Then alway sigh my plaints untill you move.

[Page]Str.

O no, there's too much rigour in such lawes,

They binde a man to speake against his cause.

Suppose I move, this is my recompence;

Ioy must succeed, and I am banisht hence.

Kla.

Then must I dye unpittied, no help's found

Since you my spoksman do conceale my wound.

Str.

O no, let not that make us to despaire:

Shee knows we love her, but she knows she's fayre.

When they ended, Musidorus (in whose memorie their courtesie to him, had ingraven a beholdnes) forgot not to approve what they had said. But the audience had little time to determine whether they deserv'd, what the Prince thoght them worthie of; whē Coridō, who long'd to hear the debate between him & Menalcas (for Kalidolus daughter) ended, clapping him on the shoulder, thus said.

Cor.

Fond beardlesse boy, now shall the chastisement,

(Fit for thy rash youths unweighed attempt)

Fall heauie on thee; but you may relent,

I'le not be crnell if you do repent.

O no you will not, you'l be alway blinde:

That gracelesse smile bewrayes thy scornfull minde.

Sing then, and show these goodly dotes in thee,

Vvith which thy brainlesse youth can equall mee.

[Page]Menal.

Gray bearded frenzie, what canst thou alledge

To shun my blowes, but thy age's priviledge?

Thy tongue may safely snarle, while his offence

Is still protected by that reverence.

The dotes, old Dotard, I can bring to prove

My selfe deserves that choyce, are only love.

A prizelesse Treasure, not to be exprest,

A guest too great, for thy cough-breeding brest.

Corid.

Yong man, thou speak'st as if thy braines were wood,

Vvho can determine of that inward good?

I say I love, and will Menalcas grieve

That all the world should Coridon beleeve?

But that's not it; these flames will soone decay

If they be not maintayn'd some other way.

A thousand sheepe I have, whose snow-white fleece

Do adde a lustre to these parts of Greece:

On whom as many lambes doe waite hard by,

That weare their damms white curled livery.

O what a joy wil't be to her I love,

Each morne and even, to see her sheep remove

From field to fold, while she may freely say

That Lamb is fat, that Lamb I'le eate to day?

Menal.

Blinde fortune, I'le confesse, hath given you more:

Yet I am richer; my content's my store.

[Page]

A thousand sheep thou hast, tis very like,

But thy diseas [...]s want arethmetick.

Nature between our yeares a marriage made:

Vve bloome together, and at once may fade.

But your old age is gone too farre before,

Time beates you on, and you'l returne no more.

Cor.

Hasty young man, do not despise the end

To which your selfe, as to a center bend.

Vvhat if I want your bodies active toyes?

My setled minde a greater good enjoyes.

Menalc.

Old man, thou speak'st as if thy braines went wood,

Vvho can determine of that inward good?

Thinkst thou will that sweet beauty take delight

To heare thee cough a proverb in the night?

O no, there are some other joyes in bedd,

They must partake whom you desire to wedd.

Coridon inwardly out of countenance to heare his owne words byte so sore upon him, would have shrunke away; but hoping he had found a Iudge whom the cause concern'd, stood a while to attend what Basilius would have said. But the king put it over to Musidorus, who (glad to find an occasiō to pleasure Minalcas, his first Master in the practise of a Shepheards life) thus ended it.

[Page] Coridon, said he, could I as well lop away some of your overgrowne yeares, to make your ma [...]ch with Kalidolus daughter equall, as I can adde to Minalcas state, I would for a time suspend my judgement: for readily I know not vvhether of you two deserves best; but in the one my power seconds my will, as in the other my will overgoes my power. Kalidolus daughter I therefore adjudge to Menalcas; and I will make him worthie of her, the rather, that I know his rash youth vvould impatiently beare a repulse, where your experience (vvhen it reflects upon it selfe) vvith more discretion may consider she vva [...] but a vvoman. Glad vvas Menalcas to speed so vvell: nor v [...]as Coridon displeas'd, because the Prince (as he conceiv'd) had entertain'd a good opinion of his wisedom. Thus vvhen they ended, Pyrocles, who mark't Agelastus his silent pensivenesse, desir'd to heare him disburthen his mind of the thoughts that brought him to so deep a studie; thinking that Agelastus stood fixt, with the eye of his mind cast upon the beautie of some faire Mistris: but he, who thought of nothing lesse, thus answered his expectation.

Agel.

Nor fate, nor fortune, whose inforcing power,

Man still complaines, upon his state to lower;

[Page]

Do worke these changes: man himselfe's the cause;

They be but wheeles that keepe their movers lawes:

Yet alway when he sees his fault too late,

He turnes it over upon chance or fate.

Each man is borne a King, his passions be

The practise of his soveraignetie:

Vvho though they stil their soveraign's good pretend

[...]onspire his ruine for their private end.

The love of skin-thick beautie drawes his eye

To yeeld to love, his reasons Majestie.

His feare throwes Bugbeares in his way, his state

Is still infested by revengefull hate.

His idle griefe, for what he might prevent,

Or might not, doth usurp his government.

Thus he whom God ordain'd a King to be,

Obeyes his subjects, and is never free.

Besides, whose state's so firme, into whose way

The world flings not his joyes injurious stay?

The surges of the deepe, whose jawes devoure

The Merchants far-fetcht hopes, the skies that poure

A second deluge on the plow-mans corne,

Vvhen now his fields are readie to be shorne;

The souldiers long remat, the doubtfull chance

Of bloudie warre, the new-found ordinance,

The Citie hornes, the Courts brave flatterie,

Doe force content to dwell with povertie.

[Page]Then looking round upon the Princes, as if by their survey he were againe enabled to speake, he thus said:

Honor, thou spongie Idoll of mans minde,

That sok'st content away, thou hast confinde

Ambitious man, and not his destinie,

Vvithin the bounds of forme and ceremonie.

Oh happie life of shepheards, whose content

Rests in a soule that's free and innocent:

They stay their lodging, and remove their roofe,

Not for their owne, but for their flocks behoofe;

Vvhile some (to fill the blanks of their meane story)

Do travell in their cares, to gaine vaine glory.

They never leave the plaines, unlesse sometime

To looke about them, they the mountaines clime,

But dwell not there; for even this change doth show

Vvhat choyser sweets they doe enjoy below.

Here the rough windes do buzze about their eares,

The rockie steepnesse adds unto their feares:

Here they are readie to be torne assunder,

By malice's hatefull blasts, and envie's thunder.

From hence they may descend; but greatnesse stay,

If you come downe, it must be th'other way:

For 'tis a blisse, in which your honour shares,

That though you would, you cannot leave your cares.

When Agelastus ended, the companie might see a [Page] man, who seemed to be misfortunes herald, with a rope about his neck, make towards the Queene of Corinth, and cast himselfe at her feete. They, thinking it had beene some Shepheardish invention, expected a while the conceit of it: but approching after a time neerer to him, they might discerne that it was Tenarus the usurper of Corinth; who hearing of the Queens welfare, and her happie marriage to Amphialus (finding in his owne practise for the Crowne, the Corint [...]ians aptnesse to embrace change, and considering the powerfulnesse of his enemies) had come thi [...]er in the basest forme of humblenesse, to set a beleefe upon his submission. Him the Queene (because he was a sutor on her marriage da [...]) pardoned, and restored to his possessions, forfeyted by his treason to the Crowne; onely she caused his libertie to be restrained, untill her going to Corinth: whither, after she had taken leave of Basilius & the rest of the royall companie, she tooke her journey; making Amphialus, within a yeare after her departure, a happie father of a much-promising sonne, whom the named Haleamphilus. Evarcus also soone after, with his sonne Pyrocles, and Philoclea, and his nephew Musidorus, together with Pamela (who was desirous both to accompanie her sister, [Page] and to see her mother of Thessaly) parted from Mantinea; leaving Basilius and Gynecia, when they had accompanied them to the frontiers of Arcadia, to the happie quiet of their after life.

Stat. THAEB.

Tu longe sequere & vestigia semper adora [...]

Sidnei—

Finis.

§

§

[Page]

These FOLLOWING VERSES at severall times came to the hands of the right worsh. Sir R [...]c who being the Authors deere friend, & therfore thinking them too good to perish, hath caus'd them here to be annexed to his booke.

Directions to a Painter to draw his Mistri [...].

Vvelcome Apelles: may a faithfull eye,

A steadie hand and painfull industry

Crowne thy endevours. Here my Mistris stands;

Draw such a face, such hay [...]e, such eyes, such hands.

The pensil's ready, and the Painter's set;

The table's plac't must beare her counterfeit.

He views her face, and with that looke there sinkes.

A powerfull charme, as who of Lethes drinkes

He stupid stands, forgetfull of his Art,

While wonder carves her figure in his heart.

At length reviv'd, he weanes his charmed sight,

And then all things seeme overcast with night.

His trembling hand an ill form'd line indents,

Meander-LIKE, erring in thousand bents:

For now his eye, though that her face be neere,

Powers in the Species to his heart not heere.

Asking at length how such a shivering cold

So soone withdrew his bloud; the cause he told,

And did intreat she might retire from thence,

Whose aspect dimm'd his sight, and bound his senc [...].

Shee's gone: he then desires my tongue should bee

The glasse, wherein my Mistris he might see.

I doe obey, willing to beare a part

In her description, with the Painters Art.

[Page]

Draw first an Orbe, a perfect Spheare-like round,

With amber lockes d [...]sheveld, bravely crownd:

Let Ivorie, and never-melting snow,

Both soft, and sleek, upon her [...]orehead grow.

Draw then Favonius sweetly breathing heere,

And softly bounding from my Mistris leere.

Let him beare back when [...] then he smoothly purles [...]

Her waving tresses in the golden curles.

O give him leave a while to kisse her hayre,

To binde himselfe, then loose the captive ayre:

But when constraind he needs from thence must go,

Paint him unwilling; for I know he's so.

Draw here bright Phoebus in his mid-day Coach,

And let his rayes my Mistris eyes approach.

Then like the Ocean gainst a high swolne streame,

A while let them encounter beame to beame.

At length, draw him eclipsd, to end these warres,

With greater light, as he doth smaler starres.

Then d [...]aw her nose, whose alabaster white

May joyne in all eyes wonder with delight.

Here place the ayre, still wayting to succeed

His fellow servant, who too largely feed

For his attendance: passe her pretty pores,

Their swee [...]ly breathing ever-open dores [...]

And save the inward treasure of her heart,

Stor'd with her thoughts, all goodnesse chiefest part.

When hee's compeld from thence to take his flight,

O let him often stay, to blesse his sight [...]

From selfe-swolne mountaines of encreasing ayre,

With the best prospect of so sweet a fayre.

But when these liquid [...]ills, striving to stay,

O returnd with pride of greatnesse, breake away,

[Page]

Then let him vanish, and uns [...]ene remaine,

As now despayring to returne againe.

Draw next her cheekes, and let a crimson redd

(Not strictly bounded, nor too largely spredd)

Be heere enthron'd: draw then her pure white skin,

The vayle transparant of the bloud within.

From these two founts convey (but under ground)

The rosie dye, which in her lips is found.

Now paint them shut, that so their mutuall kisse

May be the modell of a peacefull blisse.

Now let her speake, then let the gentle winde,

Close up his lips, to heare my Mistris minde.

Nay, this Favonius must observe I know,

His eares being charm'd, he must forget to blow.

Shape here a figure to perclose the face,

Not meerely round nor pointed, both disgrace

Her perfect feature: But Ile bring her in;

Though I want words, you may expresse her chin.

P. O stay, you'r better to dispence with some,

Then cause me leave a blanke for what's to come.

Then draw, but what? alas a shadowing night

Now stops the current of mine eyes delight.

Her Band, her Gowne, be envious vayles that [...]ide

Her stately neck, her round and slender side:

Yet now a while againe that cloud remove,

And draw her hand, the adamant of love.

Here meare the soft and alabaster plaines,

With the neat windings of her azure vaines;

And cause them first from forth five Rocks of snow,

As from their springs, in manie streames to flow:

[Page]

And let them still encrease, as swolne with pride

Nature had made them through such fields to glide.

Now Painter, you may draw her outside downe:

Your Art (without my helpe) can paint a gowne.

O draw it not so long, 'twill hide her foot,

These graces sweet support, and gracefull root.

Paint not a spangled Rose, to show the In

Where such a neate fine guest is lodg'd within.

Now all is done, but Painter you must censure

If this come neere my Mistris portrature.

P. Yes sir, this colour, and this forme of face,

Resemble somewhat; but the life of grace,

Life's active motion in her rowling eye,

Her humble state, and courteous majestie,

What art can paint, or what mellefluous tongu [...]

Can fit the subject with a worthy song?

Then to conclude, good sir I must confesse,

Your tongue did little, and my hand did lesse.

Finis.

The description of a Tempest.

Bound for my countrey from the Cambrian shore [...]

I cut the deepe, the Mariners implore,

With whistling prayer, the winde growne too milde,

To hasten to beget their sayles with childe.

The humble Sea, as of our ship afraid,

Pale, breathlesse prostrate at our feet, is laid.

The Morne scarse out of bed, did blush [...]o see

Her rude beholders so unmannerly.

[Page]

She scarse had blusht, when she began to hide

Her rosie cheekes, like to a tender Bride.

To sute Aurora, all the heavens put on

A mournfull vayle of black, as shee had done;

And gave the garments to the Sea they wore,

Wherewith it growes more blew now then before.

This stage being set, the lightnings tapers were,

The drumms such thunder as affright each eare.

Vpon this summons, great King Eolus,

Attended on by Nothus and Zephirus,

Enters, and where the King his steps doth place,

The waves do swell, trod with so proud a grace.

He was to speake, but opening of his mouth,

The boisterous winde did blow so hard at South,

I could not heare, but as the rest told me,

He spoke the prologue for a Tragedie.

Behold huge mountaines in the watry maine,

That lately was a smooth and liquid plaine,

Ore which our Sea-drunke Barque doth reeling ride.

She must obey, but knowes not to which tyde:

For still she plowes that rugged mutinous place,

All skilfull Pilots call the breaking race.

A while ambition bare her up so hie,

Her proud discoloured flagg doth touch the skie:

But when the winds these waves doe beare away,

She hangs in ayre, and makes a little stay:

But downe againe from such presumptuous height

Shee's headlong borne by her attractive weight,

Into the hollow of a gaping grave,

Intomb'd of each side with a stately wave.

Downe poure these billows from their height of pride:

Our Barque receives them in at every side.

[Page]

But when they finde no place where to remaine,

The scuddle holes do let them out againe.

At length, as Castles where no force can finde

A conquest, by assault are undermin'd:

So in our Barque, whose walls no wave [...] could breake,

We do discover a most trayterous leake.

To this, though much our hopes do now decline,

We do oppose the Pump, our countermine:

That midway breakes, whereat our Master cryes

All hope is past, the Seas must close our eyes.

And to augment deaths hideous show the more,

We in the Poope can scarse discerne the Prore:

Such ugly mists had overcast the ayre,

That heaven I thought had meant we should despayre [...]

But in the last act of this Tragedie,

Behold our great Gods all-d [...]s [...]erning eye,

Caus'd in an instant these thick mists disband [...]

The windes are calm'd, and we at Skerries land.

Dread ruler of the floods, whose powerfull will

Each thing that hath a being must fulfill;

Whose hand markes forth the end of each mans dayes [...]

And steers our humane ship in unknowne wayes:

To thee great guide this incense I present,

Thou gav'st me time to live and [...]o repent.

To his neere kinswoman.

Laid in my bed, to give each wearied sense

For [...]ormer paines, a drowsie recompence;

My [...]aking minde, [...]o whose ill hap it [...]ell

To be my care-tyr'd bodies Centinell:

Borne on the winged Cha [...]st of my thought,

Vnto the bank [...]s of Acheron was brought:

[Page]

Where greedy Tantall makes a vaine pu [...] s [...]te

To catch the co [...]sening, falling, flying fruite.

Sometimes his watry mouth and downecast eyes,

For pittie craves the ebbing stood to rise.

But in his prayer he deceip [...] prepares,

And strives to catch the Apples unawares:

They at his motion as a shadow fly,

And give a sur [...]e [...] only to his eye.

I smil'd; [...]e l [...]ok'd, and w [...]sht I might remaine

Another Tantall with as little gaine.

I f [...]ig [...]ted si a [...], and straight my curious eye

Prov'd Tantals wish a [...]atall prophesie.

I see the sweetnesse of your ruddie leere,

And cannot taste, and yet I am too neere:

Neerenesse doth dull, and set my teeth on edge;

Your blou [...] restraines affection's priviledge.

I love to looke upon you, yet lesse deere

You never are, then when I see you're neere.

Distance in some doth quench affections [...]ire,

But neerenesse is the death of my desire.

Thus neerenesse hurts; O that the Fates allow'd

That You or Love a little were remov'd.

On her lipps.

Shamefac't Cherrie, blush no more,

Nor esteeme your beauties store

To be lessened, cause you see

Her lips excell much worth may bee

In your Vermillion, though no eye

Can discerne a par [...]lie.

You worthy were to set at odds,

As did the Apple, all the Godds:

[Page]

But then had nature showne this pay [...]e,

These rosie lips so sweetly fayre;

Both would be prizelesse, and the blisse

That crownd reward had been a kisse.

He showes his Mistris how he came to love her before he saw her.

Deare fayre, the blinde boy loath to be depriv'd

Of seeing her, whom fame so much admir'd.

Assum'd mine eyes, to gaze on that bright day

Which to the world your orient beames display:

And now returnes them fraight with love to me [...]

To make me smart for what the wagge did see.

Thus I, though absent, love; do not despise

What Cupid gives for interest of mine eyes.

On the beauteous black Ophelia

Heavens glorious Senators of late,

To mend the worlds confused state,

Met on Olympus, where the wrongs

By Poets over-studied songs,

Done to the Gods, they must redresse,

And after comming tongues represse.

Vnshorne Apollo showes his hayre,

By thousands cut [...]o make her fayre

Whom they adore. The Sunne doth say,

He scarse hath time to serve the day

They hale him so who poetize,

Into their Mistris beauteous eyes;

That he is hid with meere disgrace,

To see two Sunnes in every face.

[Page]

But mother Earth, to move the more,

Vnlac'd the garment she then wore:

Then said, Behold [...] do [...] complaine

Who most have cause, I feele the paine [...]

My Alabaster and my Pearle

Make up the parts of every gyrle [...]

See all the roomes of Poetry

Hung round with my embroydery.

They all were mov'd, a meane was found

To helpe the Gods, and save the ground:

With one consent they do decree,

The chiefe of beauties black should bee [...]

Then Iove, to see how beautie might

Become that colour, brings to light

The sweet Ophelia, whose black eyes

(The Stage whereon loves tragedies

Be daily acted) show they erre

Who bring their similes so farre.

The Sunnes bright rayes, Apollo's hayre

Fit not this new well chosen fa'yre;

No gorgeous lemms, no earthly pelfe,

Black hath no likenesse but it selfe.

A Farewell.

Live ever happy, let my love remaine

A pledge for me, till I returne againe.

Let not these lips, whose sweetly yeelding tuc [...]

With one deare kisse reward my love too much,

Be made a sponge, whence each man may be free

To suck the Nectar only due to mee.

Seale up these eyes, let not them wound each heart,

I doe desire few fellowes in my smart.

[Page]

Let these thrice-happie gloves still shade the plaines,

Thus sweetly interlac'd with azure vaines:

Cut not their singers, lest the curious eye

Perhaps these shafts of love chance [...]espie.

What would it then avayle to hide the rest,

When that sole part inslames his wounded brest?

Be alway sitting: no, that posture [...]ills

The steadie eyes with that, that charmes that kills.

Walke then awhile; alas that motion gives

Life unto beautie, it by moving lives.

What can you then observe, what may I wish

That helpes not to betray where beauty is?

Then dearest, since no art can hinder love,

I will make you famous if you constant prove.

O gaine that praise, add that unto your feature:

You are the fayrest, be the faithfull'st creature.

To his BOOKE.

There is a Saint whom you may [...]inde,

If you have eares, or be not blind [...];

Even shee whose speech and beautie charmes

The blinde boy from his mothers armes.

Not that; O what a foole thou art,

Come back and reade her in my heart:

And then before you flye away,

Ile teach you w [...]ere and what to say.

Ile show you wayes, that though I fayle

To gaine a ki [...]e, you may prevayle.

Tye up in knots your strings, and lye

Neere her, in gilded braverie.

Sheel looke, and with her snow-white hands

Strive to untye your knottie bands.

[Page]

Yeeld not: if she aske the cause,

Say, that such are womens lawes.

Then will a prettie rage, incense

Her teeth to offer violence.

Be happie then, enjoy a blisse:

I want, you have; you gaine, I wish.

Shee kiss'd in anger, you'l complaine [...]

Would I had kisses of disdaine.

What if a niggard cherries have,

Of which his friends a few doe crave;

The cherries taste nothing the worse

That he bestowes them with a curse?

Let others have I know not what,

Ile buy such fruite at any rate.

But be not proude, forget not me,

Thou silly peece of Poetry.

Say that my Love, my only store,

Is gone, and can returne no more.

Shee'l send it back, shee'l say, but sweare

Shee cannot, till her eyes forbeare

To wound anew; else like a boy

That lets his hopping Sparrow toy

In new-go! freedome, and againe

Restraines him with his flaxen rayne:

Shee'l give and take, and loose and tye [...]

And make a sport of victorie.

O no, [...]faith I am more wise,

Ile never leave to love her eyes.

Finis.

Information about this book

Title statement

A sixth booke to the Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia. VVritten by R.B. esq

Bellings, Richard, d. 1677.

Edition statement

1624

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A07657

ID [STC]

STC 1805

ID [STC]

ESTC S113724

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99848955

ID [PROQUEST]

99848955

ID [VID]

14080

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Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A07657)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 14080)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1057:04)

Source

— A sixth booke to the Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia. VVritten by R.B. esq, Bellings, Richard, d. 1677., Sidney, Philip, Sir, 1554-1586. Arcadia..

Extent

[8], 100, [6] p.

Printed by the Societie of Stationers,. Dublin :: Anno Dom. M. DC. XXIV [1624]. (R. B. = Richard Bellings.) (A sequel to Sir Philip Sidney's work.) (Reproduction of the original in the British Library.)

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