Lord ANDRVGIO his departure from the Court vvith his aduentu [...]s.

THe noble mind of this yong prince, now in the flourishing tune of his age, began to shewe it selfe in such sort, as he might wel be knowen to descend of so honorable Pa­rentage as the Duke of Saxonie: for, as the sonne-beames cannot be hid, so did vertue appeare in him, pricking a forwardnesse to his de­sires, to see the maners and gouernment of other countries: But too soone (alas) hath this naturall Father yeelded to the desire of so greene a head, whose yeares doo scarsly require the raine to be left in his owne hand, as you shall heare.

Fortune, mutable & vnconstant dame, desirous to shewe what she could doo, hauing brought this yoongling to the top of his desires, began now to checke him with such a bit, as might well serue a colte of elder year [...]s, for beeing void of all doubtes of any mischaunce to betide him or his companions, such miseries was he oppressed with, as are most lamentable to be remembred.

For, vnderstand after his departure from the Court of his Father, traueiling by guides (as the maner of the coun­try is) thorow vncoth places, enuyroned with wooddes, and hanted with multitudes of wilde beastes, a noble man of I­taly, banished from his countrie for a most hainous treason [Page] conspired against the prince of the land, ranged continually those desartes, where he with his companions became most cruell manslears, and spoylers of as many as fell into their hands, without feare of God, or respect of christianity. Ne­uer was there any tyrant of what name or condition soeuer, so cruel as this mischieuous Gonsala Ieriomanim, for so was he called.

Earnest trauell within small time hath brought this youth Andrugio with his companie within the precinct of this cursed murtherer, where he kept his residence, lodged in caues and holdes of their own framing. Of whose scouts Andrugio was no sooner espied, but with al possible speed they prouide to meete them, armed in all partes, as if they should encounter their professed enemies in the field.

Andrugio void of all feare, tooke great pleasure in this iourney, passing in pleasant discourses the time to beguile their trauell: But (alas) in midst of these pleasures, befel them most vnhappie fortune, euen as the sillie lambes, skip­ping by the side of their tender damme, is by the rauening Woolfe bereaued of life. So fares it with Andrugio, who no sooner came to the place wher these reprobats lay in am­bush, attending their comming. But Gonsala stern & fierce of courage with his followers resolued to be their deathes, furiously assailed them, and in small time, taking them at aduantage, ouercame them, leauing not one to breath, as they supposed, bathing their murdering blades in the blood of these Gentils: taking spoyle of their treasure and other prouision, they leaue their bodies couered with mosse and loose leaues, speeding them to their places of refuge, re­ioicing with the spoile of those poore innocents, whom m [...]st traiterously they had slaine.

Now beholde the vnspeakeable goodnesse of God vnto this Lord Andrugio, whose woundes being not so deep as the rest of his friendes, after a litle trance began to recouer, when breathing with a piteous grone, he striued to recouer his feet to stand: but the blood being cold about his wounds [Page] caused such a [...]ifnesse, that impossible it was for him to mooue, with taking cold after his long bleeding: yet by the permission of the highest, vnto whose holy will al creatur [...]s bend, in short time he recouered reasonable memorie: when viewing round about him the slaine carkasses of his follo­wers and friends, with piteous schriches and lamentable plaints complameth his misfortune on this wise.

Andrugio, what cruell starres guided thy byrthday? or what cursed hag bewitched thee to motion a suit vnto thy noble father, so greatly displeasing the Gods, who noting thy follies, haue appointed these vnmercifull murderers to daunger thine owne life, and bereaue thee of thy friends, ap­pointed by thy carefull father for a comfort vnto thee? O that the heauens had neuer condescended vnto my natiuitie, or that in my cradle I had (like Hercules) bene assailed by some poysoned scrpents, which might haue abridged my life! But like Mydas wish I for that that displeaseth the Gods. Andrugio, vnhappie Andrugio, and most vnfortu­nate in being sonne vnto so noble a Duke, whose life must end in these accursed desartes, and no man to make report vnto thy aged father, what is become of thee or thy compa­nions, whose deathes by following thee in thy follie, is thus befallen them: cursed therefore Andrugio, whose desires haue robbed so noble gentlemen of their sonnes, gallant la­dies and faire gentlewomen of their loues, and thy renow­med father of an heire to succeede him in his Dukedome. O heauens, might your furie with my life haue bene appea­sed, how happie had I bene! that the wrath of him whom I haue prouoked to ire, might haue fallen vpon mine owne head: then noble friends, should you haue enioied life to haue reported my tragedy, which now are left void of all comfort to be a pray to the rauening beastes of this Desart, and to the foules of the aire. Yet kind Gods, whose pitifull condi­tion is not to punish at ful, the witkednes of your creatures: Heare with the eares of mercy my last petition, and sende thy messenger Ziperus to blow into the eares of our com­footlesse [Page] Parentes and friendes, our vntimely tragedies, that they knowing the place where our mangled bodies lie, may entomb vs with our ancestors, and reuenge our deaths on those most cursed homicides, whose bloody handes haue bene our confusions.

Scarsly could he finish his sorrowfull speach, when bee­ing faint with the losse of blood issuing from his wounds, and ouercharged with sorrow for his friends lieng slain by him, he gaue so heauie a sigh as might haue mooued a hart of flint to pitie his estate.

In this extremitie, behold, a comfort: for loe, a poore la­bouring man, seruant vnto a miller, dwelling two miles distant from the place where he receiued his wounds, sear­ching for the straied beastes of his saide maister Miller, happened by great chance to ouerheare this wofull com­plaint: which ended, standing halfe amased to heare so sweet a voice, casting many waies in his simple minde the daun­gers, and subtilties of spoiling miscreants, supposed verily that it had bin a deuise of some villaine, lurking there abouts of purpose to betray traueilers, and to bring them within their compasse to rob them. Thus many wayes misdoubting the worst, not yet resolued whether to depart, or to see what he was that made such a piteous mone: at length taking vnto him the hart of Sampson, he boldly stepped ouer the hedge into the groue whereas this wounded Andrugio lay.

No sooner was he entred this groue, but viewing round the place, like a good Pilate for feare of rocks, glancing his eies eftsoons to the ground, then els where, hee chaunced to espie great store of blood, which when he had with no smal admiration beheld, putting on his holyday countenance, like an hardie squire, he marched on, following the tracke of the blood, vntil he came vnto that place whereas all those dead carkasses lay, when he had recouered the sight of these wounded men, his hart trembled with griefe, & was worse mooued at the discouering of them then euer in his life be­fore, [Page] standing thus in his dumpes, deuising whether it were best to touch them or no: casting his eies stedfastly on them, suruaieng their grieuous woundes. Andrugio faint and full of paine with the extreamitie of his woundes, breathed softlie: which being noted of this swaine, drewe neere vnto him, layeng tenderly his hand on the stomach of Andrugio felt a panting short wind withn him, whereat the man be­ing somewhat ioyfull, rubbed his temples, so by litle and ly­tle recouered him.

When this kind-hearted swaine had by his diligence recouered Andrugio, and that perfectnesse of memorie was againe restored him, as a wight grieued at the mischances he saw was hapned, he comforteth him in this wise.

Gentleman (quoth he) for so your countenance sheweth me, what euill fortune hath brought you vnto this pitifull plight? or by whose hands haue you with these your com­panie bene so cruellie mangled? tell me I beseech you, that reuenging your iniuries, I may pursue with diligēce those bloodthirsty billaines, and by their deathes make satisfacti­on to the Gods, and those innocentes soules that they haue murthered.

Andrugio with gastly countenance looking earnestlie in the face of this comforter, after hee had a while attentiuelye hearkened vnto his speeches, thus answered.

Whosoeuer thou be (gentle friend) that the Gods haue thus apointed for my help in this extremitie: I yeld thanks according to thy curteous deserts: but couldest thou shew as much grace to these my distressed friends here lien, howe great cause I should haue to glorifie the Gods, and honor thee, my tongue cannot expresse, wretched and vnfortunate that I am: yet gentle friend, in whom such courtesie remai­neth, do me fauour so much, as to tell me howe thou earnest to this place, and thy dwelling: and thou that art a man chri­stian and kind, as thy paines on me bestowed beare witnes, vouchsafe, in such sort as thou canst, to comfort these my friendes, and see if it hath so pleased the Gods to giue any [Page] one of them leaue to escape the heauie vengeance of those accursed slaues that haue robbed vs of our substance, and murdered our bodies: and the rest that haue yeelded their liues to the furie of those tyrantes blades, helpe me to en­tombe them according to their callinges, who were all Gentlemen of account, which is the greatest honour I can doe them: for the which as they died Innocents, their soules shall yeeld thee thanks before the throne of the greatest god where we shall all meete.

Sir (quoth the swaine) I see your wan lookes betoken faintnesse, by occasion of your great losse of blood: wherfore if you will hearken vnto the counsell of so simple a creature as my selfe, you shall cease this parlie vntill you shal better endure it, and haue recouered more strength. Two miles at least haue I to my maisters home, which is a sillie cottage, not worthy to entertame such a one as you seeme to be: yet as it is, your welcome shalbe as to your owne: his only vi­ctuals is goats milk, a white cake, oile, & honny, which com­mand at your will. If these may in extremitie pleasure you, arise and rest you on my shoulders, for I see you are feeble, vntill I haue brought you where you may refresh you. As for your friends, whom you so much bewaile, suffer them to rest in peace, for your wailings may not be any way auayla­ble vnto them, and to morrow my maister, with such helpe as we can prouide, shal fulfil your request, and burie them, though not as you would wish, yet as we may, in the better sort.

Andrugio wounded and faint, hearkening to his words y^t he spake of good wil, began to rouse himself: but so weak was he, that alone w [...]thout helpe might not stirre: where­fore the swaine taking him in his armes, set him alone on his feete. But in vaine it was, for stand he could not: which seeing, the poore swaine shewing a good inclination, as one beseeming some better education then he proffered, bound first his wounds, so y^t through straining they might not bleed: when taking his bodie as gently as hee might on [Page] his neche, countaieth him as speedille as was possible to the Millers house, where as he above with great trouble. At last they haue attained this mill, long (God knowes) of them de­sired before they came thither: whether they being come, Druha (for so was the swaine called) recounteth vnto the Miller and his wife the perplered estate of this Gentleman Andrugio, with the losse of his friendly companions, berea­ued of life by the murderous handes of ma [...] villaines, all strange and vnknowen vnto them.

The pitifull grandam, being of a right womanith na­ture, could not refr [...]in [...] she ading of teares to heare this s [...] ­rowful proces: yet at last, to show how welcome the distres­sed noble was, albeit a mere stranger vnto them, she bathed his woundes, and applied thereunto such huswifely salues as she thought might pro [...]te best, in restoring his health. This done, she brought him such viandes as shee had ready prepared, commanding her daughter to prouide some com­fortable brothes for him, which was speedilie perfourmed. Whē he had refreshed his wearied weak carcase, the good old wife began for his better comfort these speaches.

Sir (quoth she) though the Gods haue giuen you ouer into the handes of those miscreants, that haue sought your life, yet be not dismaied, thanke their Deities, that in the sharpnesse of their furie, haue preserued you from death, no doubt for some better fortune, and to reuenge the slaughter of your friends on those villaines: for which their gratious­nes geue them thankes, and feate not your health. Yn the meane time, if [...]ou thinke good to accept such homely enter­tainment as I can giue you, welcome shall bee your best cheare, and what els you want command at your pleasure: my dearest and onely daughter Susania shall attend you vn­till your strength be recouered.

Thanks (quoth Andrugio) to the heauēly powers first, for prouiding me this good: and next to thee (my friendlee Hostesse) for thy fauour bestowed on me, which might pe­rish without comfort: but what friendship thou shalt impart [Page] vnto me in this distresse, if the pleasure of the deuine Deity be to restore me againe, thy courtesie shal be recompenced, and this kindnesse to thee and thine neuer be forgotten.

Thus leaue we Andrugio a while at his rest, attended on with Sufania, curteous and friēdly vnto her charge, de­liuered by her ancient mother: the old wife taking like care for the buriall of the dead bodies, which in the best sort was shortly accomplished.

Susania y^e good wench, attēding diligētly on her charge, hath in short time by the care she had of him, recouered his strength, that forsaking his bed, he walked often about his chamber, not daring yet to aduenture into the ayre. Andru­gio all this time of sicknesse noted the curteous demeanor of his attendant: and often times, as strength increased in him, would take great pleasure to trie her wit by pleasant parlie, sometime discoursing of one thing, and so enter­changeablie of many. But so long the flie plaieth with the flame, that at length she is constrained to die through her follie: so fares it now with Andrugio, whose fine head had so long propounded quick questions, and was so sharplie answer to of Susania, that his fancie began to settle on the maiden in such sort, that it grew from small kindeled coales, to great flames: insomuch that nothing was pleasing vnto him, if Susania had not bene at the dooing therof: yea, such in short time became his affections, that neuer was his wounds so grieuous as she absence of Susania: euermore recountring in his mind her beautie, courtesie, and qualities which did in all pointes so far passe the vulgar sort, as the white snow dooth exceed in beautie the blacke pitch. These graces so abounding in Susania, haue so besotted Andrugio his sences that he is driuen now to non plus, amazed which vertue to commend as principall in her. As these cogitati­ons beginning in him, so the feruent heat of loues passion encreaseth in such sort, as there is no other pleasure to bee had of him but onely in commending the person, wit, and condition of Susania: yea, now is his onely study how to [Page] please her, and his greatest care to make his loue knowne vnto her. Thus as a man of reason cleane bereft, he calleth to mind his honorable discent: and then againe the base li­nage of Susania, being no better by byrth then the child of a simple Miller, in whose companie he was at that season recident which began to make him regard his nobilitie and waieng the honorable house of Saxony. To take aduise how by ioyning in mariage w^t a person so inferior to his estate, might dishonour his progenie, & enbase his posteriue. But Loue who is now great maister of his affections, seeing himselfe by reasons almost expulsed, begad againe to assault him in such wise, as Susania, no none but Susania, faire and most braue Susania, and the chiefe of humaine creatures, his onelie attendant Susania.

In this passion, behow, his beloued hauing care of her charge, entered the chamber with some daintie prouided of purpose for Andrugio: whom he no sooner beheld, but his spirites with ioy died within him. whose strange passion grieued Susania at the heart to see him, whom with such care she had nourished, when all dangers of his woundes were passed, to be in so faint a case: his collour which eftsoons was like the sanguin rose, is now pale and wan as the lilly: his breathing tronke readye to deliuer his last gaspe: Su­sania carefull and diligent, noting the straungenesse of the same, began greatly to maruell thereat, suspecting her se [...]fe, to be the cause of that griefe: like a kind phisition carfull of her patient, rubbes his temples, and with her tender hande stroked his cheekes softly, sprinkling on them sweete water of roses distilled, and often with her tender lips would lend him many a sweet kisse, bedewing his honny mouth with her milke-warme teares, in this sort bewailing the distres­sed estate of Andrugio.

Ye heauenly Gods, by whose deuine powers all crea­tures breath life, what heauy sinnes hath your handmaide committed against your Deities, that for my sake you shew vengeance upon this weake creature, whom (as ye know) I [Page] haue with all diligence to my vttermost power releeued, since his comming to this homely cottage of my poore Fa­ther, in whō I hoped to haue bin happy by my careful pains for his releefe, emploied by your assistants for the recouery of his former health, in curing those grieuous woundes where with his weak body was afflicted. Yf your crueltie be such in requitall of my charitable mind, or that your venge­ance hath not bin sufficiētly shewed to my charge: yet vouch­safe of your Godheads, in whom it consisteth to pardon and punish, to take your heauie handes from this curteous Gen­tleman, whom you haue punished, and let him liue to be the comfort of many, which may be comfortlesse, and such your furie poure vpon me, as may free this Gentleman from all displeasure whatsoeuer.

Andrugio comming to himseife, and hearing a sound of lamentation, looking vp, saw before him y^e obiect of his life, and noting her blubbered eies, which shewed her heauines, and her cheekes besprent with teares, mooued to pitie her extremitie, not knowing it was for his sake, comforted her in this sort.

Susania the careful minister, next vnder the Gods, of my life, whose paines haue restored my wounded body, whose trauailes I connot requite, thanks is the onely recompence I can make thee yet, albeit my desire is to perfourme much more: but with that sacrifice of hartie thankes bee the Gods pleased. Then sweet Susania, no lesse in comfort to thy poor charge, then the Gods, [...]ccept thou the same at his handes that greueth, yea whose soule lamenteth to behold thy way­lings, of which I know not the cause: but if there remaine in thee that courtesie, as is commonly found in your sexe, participate with me of griefe, to the end I may to my pow­er requite thee with comfort: for assure thee Susania, there is none vnder the globe of the celestiall firmament, whome my heart hath such desire to honor as thy selfe. Wherefore my dearest sustainer, if thou hast any affiance in thy charge, speake boldly as to thy selfe, imagining thou doost commit [Page] the secretes of thy sweet breast too thine owne heart.

The old Beldame hauing some want of her daughter, to be emploied in her busines, enterrupting their speech by calling her with her shril voice, caused them to leaue their parly for a time.

Susania being gone (as duetie commanded) Andrugio began within himselfe to call to mind the courtesie, wisdom, and good gouernment of his sweet attendant, entring so far into the laborinth of loue, as he is likely to loose himselfe, where reason could not suppresse will, nor wisdome control affection: somuch hath this lunatike fitte distempered his braines, which made him enter into these tearmes.

Why Andrugio, what fancie hath bewitched thee? art thou abnost growen to mans estate, and art thou so little ma [...]ster of thy selfe? If thou do but gaze on a picture, must thou like Pigmalion be in loue with it? Canst thou not tast wine except thou be drunke with it? Maist thou not warme thee without burning? Ah fondling as thou art, know this, Fire is to be felt, not handled: the collour Argicke, poyson by nature, may be caried in the hand, but eaten it is death: and beautie first ordained of the Gods to feed mans eie, not to corosiue, the heart, Do not then as the simple fish, swal­low the bait y^t wil breed thy destruction: wade not too deep, vse beautie, but honour it not, vse it as a game for thy pa­stime, yet swallow it not. But fond foole, knowest thou not that Loue is tearmed of the wise a God, then by reason and dutie ought to be obeied: Loue hath commanded the migh­tie, yea the Gods themselues. Iupiter disdaining Cupids power, resisted him, yet went by the worst, and yeelded at length to his power. Iuno strave with Venus, yet was van­quished. Then striue thou not with a sore so dangerous, least thou offend the Gods, and endanger thy selfe.

Can beautie be resisted which made the Gods to bowe? Cupid himselfe loued Phiches, and thinkest thou to bee of greater force? But what fondnes is this in thee Andrugio, to dandle thy selfe in such follies? Thou didst at thy com­ming [Page] from thy father pretend study in the famous citie of Siena, and doest thou now forget that the benefite is great which learning bringeth? Educacion is more meete for thee than loue? Foolish boy, how can the states of thy coū ­trie thinke thee sufficient to gouerne them, that canst not rule thy selfe? Yt will be to much for thee to take so great a charge, which canst not maister thy affect [...]ons. Yet Andru­gio, if thou wilt needes loue, vse it as men vse the seeing of Comedies on a stage for recreation, where when thou art weary thou mayest depart at thy pleasure. Then leaue to loue, but in this sort subdue thine affections: be maister of thy mind, so maist thou laugh at Cupid and his fondlings, and say, thou wast in loue, what then?

He had scarsly finished these wordes with a sorrowfull sigh, when Fortune that blind Goddesse, and his sworne e­nemie hath brought Elanicus a yoong Noble of Saxonie, to the house of the Mister, bound by the commaund of the Duke to the citie of Siena to seeke Andrugio, of whome there came no newes at all to the court of his Father since his departure. This Elanicus posting thorow the desartes, was warned by a swain whō he met, to shun the way wher­in he rode, for that night approched, recountring vnto thē a most cruell murder committed there by vpon certaine Gen­tlemen not passing three mōnethes before. This newes ap­paled the heart of Elanicus. For about the same time An­drugio with his companie departed: for which cause he en­tered farther talke with the swaine, demaunding if he sawe the dead carkasses of the slaine men: if he did, to recount vn­to him their feature as neere as he might, with their appa­rell. To whom this swaine accomplishing his request, in rude maner describing at large to all his demandes: the hearing of which so grieued Elanicus, that starsly might he breath. But remooued from his dumps, he enquired how he came to the knowledge of this he had deliuered. Sir (quath he) dwelling not far hence, a neighbor of mine came [...] vnto the place where the murderers had left them: [Page] where, by his paines, he recouered one proper Gent [...]man, the rest being buried as well as we could. Friend (queth Elanicus) sith it hath pleased thee, to acquaint me of friend­ship, with these tidinges, and withall, war [...]ed me from falling into the hands of those [...]aitifes, I giue thee thanks. And if I may not be tedious vnto thee, that thou vouch safe to bring me where this recouered man resteth, I will so sa­tisfie thee, as thou shalt haue no cause to complaine of loo­sing so much labour. Thus agreeing, the Swaine con­ducted him and his companie vnto the Miller, where An­drugio rested.

Elanicus hauing well rewarded the Swaine, bad him farewell, whose sodaine entring, the horsse put Andrugio out of Loues cogitation. Elanicus meeting first with Su­sania, saluted her as the maner of his countrey, with cour­teous congies, beseeching the mayden of so great fauour, being a trauailer, and night growing on, for his mony to to haue entertainement.

To whome Susania, (whose womanly conditions more giuen by nature then education) aunswered. Gentleman, what you are I knowe not: But I vnderstand (good sir) the owner of this filly cottage my father, being from home, I may not boldly presume to giue entertainment to anie, how willing soeuer I were to the same, for many causes: and especially, for that I doubt me greatly, you with your accō ­plices are they, which most vnchristianlike slaughtered the Gentlemen of Saxon, as they trauelled those desertes. Wherefore, whether you be the same or whatsoeuer you be, take not discourteously the words of a sillie mayden, but while you haue time, I beseeche you depart elswhere to prouide you.

Elanicus doubting to haue the repulse, began to glorie with the mayden, beeing loth to depart without farther knowledge of Andrugio, and his companie: and therefore besought her to take p [...]tie on his wearie carcase, worn with hard trauaile in searching for such Gentlemen of Saxon, as [Page] by her talke seemed to be dead, protesting vnto her in most vehement oathes, that he was a stranger and born in Sax­onie.

Andrugio, who had listened to their talke, hearing Ela­nicus to name Saxonie, was so rauished with suddaine ioy, as he might not stand: recouering himselfe, could not for­beare the presence of his louing countriman, and compani­on, with whose speach he was sometime acquainted: but lea­uing his chamber, came to see him.

Andrugio no sooner entring the place, where Elanicus sate parlieng gently with the maiden, who might not in any cause be intreated to entertaine him, But being espied of Elanicus, his speach sodainly failed, and his tongue failtred in his mouth, he fell mainly on the shoulders of Andrugio, when passed his trance, he cried out: Ah my Lord, my louing Lord, what destinies haue brought you and your companie to these extremities? Are the Gods so vniust, that they will suffer your noble blood innocently shead, to goe vnreuen­ged? Little knoweth the Duke your father of your hard mishap, yet doubting the worst, hath sent me to Siena, to know what mooued you to keepe the tydings of your happy artiual to the place of your desire, w^tout writing vnto him. But I see the Gods haue preuented your noble intent, by suffering your body grieuously to bee wounded, and your friends to rest in death. Accursed Fortune, who hath no [...] better prouided for you than thus, in the spring-time of your flouring yeares, to be thus masacred. Yet thankes to the Gods that gaue you life: and thankes to your good Phisition, whosoeuer hee bee, whome if I might knowe, I will in some sort requite as I may, though not as I would.

Thankes Elanicus for thy kindnesse. (quoth Andru­gio) But happie had I bene if my life might haue accom­panied my good friendes, which it had done, if this my sweete Phisition (taking Susania by the hand) had not bin, whose cares as they haue bene great to restore me to health, [Page] so will I neuer forget them, if the Goddes permit me life.

But my Lord (quoth Elanicus) what is your Lord­shippes pleasure to doo? Dooth your strength serue you to bestride a horse? or shall wee make some prouision of coatch to conueigh you to the Court of your renowmed fa­ther?

Ah, no my sweete Elanicus (answered hee) if thou loue me (as thy paines employed in aduenturing thy selfe for my safetie sufficiently witnesseth) counsell mee not to returne to my Fathers Court vntill I haue spent some time in the famous Citie of Siena, to perfourme there, what my heart did desire long time before I obtained licence for the same. Therefore cease to take further cares for me: onely employ me with money for my necessarie vses, and returne with what speede you may to the Duke my father: This night shall you rest with me, where your cates shall not be dainty, homelic, cleanly, and welcome your principal dish.

Thankes good my Lord, (quoth Elanicus: but thinke you that I may obtaine that fauour at your commaund, which intreating for the same so lately, was so hardly ex­persed?

Susania intercepting Andrugio his wordes, answered, sir, blame not a fearfull maiden to doubt the worst, hauing too great a cause of late to bee warned: and to excuse my boldnesse, let my submission in the humblest wise make sa­tisfaction for my fault, and vouchsafe to accompanie your noble countriman, vnto whom both the Gods and Fortune (in my opinion) haue done great wrong, and my selfe (a rude maiden) with my aged parentes haue highly offended, in not giuing him the dutie to his estate belonging. But I trust he will pardon the fault committed, sith he himselfe is the principall cause thereof, which would not make himselfe knowen but onely in this tytle, a Gentleman of Saxonie, yet to such prouision as wee coulde make in this wildernes he was welcome, so is your selfe if you accept it.

[Page] A million of thankes (curteous maiden) I render thee for thy kindnes to this noble man which he hath found, vn­knowen what he was, and therefore the more to be consi­dered: VVhat cause he hath to honour so good an atten­dant as you haue showed to be, for auoyding of flattery I omit.

Thus passing the night in ioy, recountring their olde friendship, the next morning early, as Andrugio gaue dire­ctions, Elanicus leauing behinde him horse and money, he hasteneth with al speed to signifie vnto the Duke what had happened.

Andrugio feeling now the extremities of his woundes to be passed, imagining the duke would not suffer him far­ther to aduenture himselfe when tidings should be brought him of his perils escaped, and plight he remained in, not for­getting his affection towards Susania, whose desires the more he sought to suppresse, y^e more his hart was inflamed in loue towards her: wherefore hee resolutely determining what to do, he waiteth opportunitie to disclose his loue vnto her: which luckily was presently offered. For lo [...], Susania in the midst of these determinations, according to her ancient custome, came to see her patient: wherefore setting al drea [...] apart, taking his fit time, knowing wel that secret forrowes doo confound the sences, and that lingring in perill is the cause of many insiting miseries, thus boldlie he began to batter the bulwarke.

Blush not Susania, that for thy graces, I tell thee I loue: For (Susania) Loue is in men, and therefore in me. Since therefore to stop the streame dooth make the flood more fierce, and to suppresse the flame dooth make the fire en­crease: Cammomill the more it is [...]rodden, the more it sprin­geth: Wherefore Susania, fearing the flame of my affecti­on shall corosiue my heart, know this, thy manifold vertues haue made such an impression in my heart, and the sweet­nesse of thy feature so wounded me, that the blaze of the one and the bountie of the other hath broken the bulwarke of [Page] my heart, where Loue aduanceth her Ensigne as conquero [...] and keepeth my hart prisoner, neither will she deliuer but onely with this ransome, Susania her loue. Looke therefore my drare Susania vpon thy captiue, and as thou hast cured the outward woundes of my bodie, minister that sweet por­tion to my hurt which my heart desireth: that being healed by the phisicke of thy affections, I may ioy in thee. Lookes (men say) are the messengers of loue, and outward moti­ons the be [...]ra [...]ers of inward malladies: then cast thine eies vpon the countenance which doth manifest my care, and let thy thoughtes penetrate the heart that doth endure calami­tie. Deeme, sweet Susania of my loue as of the Salaman­dar stone, which being once set on fire, will neuer be quen­ched: or the Emerald which graceth all other stones, but neuer looseth his collour: so likewise neuer determinable shall be the loue of Andrugio to his beloued Susania. Then Susania in right consider of my cause according to my care, nothing besides thy bountie can procure my blisse, thy only perfection hath increased my pame: then let thy pitie set free my person from p [...]rill. The Porcupike that hurteth with his quilles makes a salue with his blood, and Aclytes speare trieth an earnest effect of both natures: so likewise it lieth in thee to apply the plaister that inferreth my paine, to minister such phisick as may cure my malladie. Sith then my life dependeth on thy loue, and my danger attendeth your spee­die redresse, let your courtesie finish my care, and repay my loue with his like.

Susania, poore soule, neuer vsed to those louing speeches, and sweet wordes vttered by Andrugio, was mute to heare so suddaine a motion: yet the thought of which tick­l [...]d a sweete conceit in her, as a portion shee coulde well brooke, yet determining to shewe in full the nature of the female sexe, began to spurne at that with her foo [...]e, which willingly she could haue imbraced in her heart, re­sembling the byrde Orpyes that hatcheth the Nightin­gale, yet will feed on her egges, so dooth her heart secret­lye [Page] reioise to thinke her selfe beloued of Andrugio: yet meaning to giue him a bitter pill, she ministreth to him this portion.

My good Lord Andrugio, I humblie beseech you of pardon for my harsh behauiour toward your Lordship pas­sed: but gratious Lord, wherein hath Susania shewed her selfe at any time light of behauiour, that thus you goe about to intrap me to the lure of your will? if my dutie to my vt­most, shewed in your weaknesse, breed lust in your recoue­ring health, I will prouide a new nurse for you, and arme my selfe against the subtill piping of so cunning a Fouler, Yf your friendship be with your faining glozes to that end to bewich such ignorant creatures as my self, I must needs get the hearbe Glozia, a preseruatiue against that malady, and intreat your Lordship to bee content with an other at­tendant: for wisedome it is to beware in time, and warned, prouide to escape dangers. Yf your Lordship had bene be­fore put in mind of the murderers waiting to kill you, I doubt whether you would haue aduentured the place wher they awaited you: therefore blame mee not to bee hereafter aduised how I come too neere you, and so farewell. Thus as it were in a litle chafe she would haue departed, but An­drugio staieng her, replied thus.

Sweete Susania, and louing, if thou tender his life whome with paine thou hast nourished so long, doo pitie me which vnfainedly cra [...]e it at thy bandes. Though Fowlers meane falshood, Andrugio is faithfull. what if many men haue pleaded for obtainig of lust the affections of Loue? yet blame not Andrugio till triall: if I bee false, then let the Gods poure vengeance vpon me, or when ANDRVGIO shall seeme to chaunge his amorous thoughtes of sweete Susania, the obiect of any life, let fire consume me from the heauen.

Enough of this my Lord, quoth Susania, except it were to better purpose, for your talke is to no end but to bring a [Page] foole to your becke, or at least to see, whether my lightnesse were such as you suppose it.

Credite me Susania (answered this louing Lord) let my trueth make triall of my faith vnto thee: it is not lust but the pure single meanings of loue imprinted in my true heart. Therefore sweete comfort of my life, respect thy ser­uant which humbly seeketh thy grace, stand not on tearmes with me, if thou tender my life, my progenie which I haue concealed, is now by fortune reuealed, whereby thou maist be assured it is no disparagement to thee, to yeeld me loue of my affection towardes thee, but graunting it, shalt there­by increase the reputation of all thy ancestrie, whom for thy sake I will inuest with titles of calling, for the more honour to thee. I stand, Susania, vppon thornes, vntill I come to Siena, where my desire hath led me, for feare of being pre­uented by my father in calling me home againe: therefore resolue thee and let me not languishe for thy sake, whome thou mayest easily remedie.

Ah my Lord (quoth Susania) it is a principle amongest Lappidarines, that the smooth stones be soonest broken: amongst faylers, where the water is most smoothest, there likest danger: the greenest grasse, hideth the moste veno­mous serpent: the stone Granio looseth his vertue, if it be not continually rubbed with golde, powder is no sooner kindled, but it quencheth: mens affection may be compa­red to the Fawcon, that commeth to euery full fist, or to the spaniell, that will fawne vppon euerie one that holdeth bread in their hand.

The stone Quacius freeseth within, when it fryeth without, and sighes may be fetched aswel from the loongs, as from the heart, teares bee wrong out of the fingers when men be disposed to fame: knowe you not that the new wrought dough wil receaue any impression? Is it possible to take those birdes, that hath espied the twigges? no, no: the hawke will neuer be called to that lure wherein the pennes of a Camelion are pricked, for well I knowe that [Page] the Theop [...]rate looking at the woolfe, i [...] taken at a pray, and the Porcupike staring on the starres, is ouertaken by the dogges, too late comes had I wist, when follie bytes vpon repentance. Better it is to skip with the lambe, in the sweete field in freedome, then to be companion to the grea­test monarche in thraldom: which considered I neither can, as being not gouernour of my selfe, nor will yeeld my selfe to that yoke which I cannot shake off.

Stay there Susania, and giue me leaue to liue a while, that am sure to die, when you pronounce denial: let not par­ticular examples proue a full conclusion, though some haue bene false, all are not faultie, stones (I yeeld) are to be va­lued by the vertue, not by the outward viewe. But Susa­nia, thinke that stones may be better polished, then vnper­fected, and the defectes of nature, corrected by nature. An Emralde, hath many pernicious properties: but set in gold, is corrected by the vertue thereof.

Thou Susania, c [...]st aptlie the comparisons: then assure your selfe that the Granicke whiche is blacke yeeldeth a white iuice, and the Ieate burneth best in water. Then Su­sania commend the perfectnesse of the sunne, although thou gaze at inferiour planets.

Andrugio hauing thus clearkly discoursed for himselfe, with a deepe sigh sealed his faithfull sayinges, in such sort that the teares trickled downe her cheekes for sorrowe to heare him. Which perceaued by Andrugio, with many im­bracinges, and louing kisses enterchangeablie giuen be­twixt them, to both their comfortes, desiring pardon of her Lord whome she was loth to offend, shee leaueth him with this hope, his courtesie should be remembred: so bid­ding him ad [...]ew, betaketh her selfe vnto her lodging, where being solitarie, the forces of Cupids affection began now to flame in this virgine, that forced with the extremitie of contrarie motions, subdued her heart with such repugnant passions, that she sodainly fell into this processe.

Ah haplesse Susania, what motions are these? whither [Page] art thou rouing with a self conceipt, captiuated by the lawes of affection, proceeding from that blinded God Cupid, and fast [...] in his laborinth? O impatient disease of loue, [...] of loue, thrise vnpitifull, what strange malla­die breedeth so great a martyrdom? what intollerable griefe doth glut my desires? nay what desperate desire doth breed such intollerable disease. Ah Andrugio, sweete Lord An­drugio, yet vlab not Susania, let thy loue hang at thy heartes bottome, not at thy lippes brimme: thinges vntold are vndone, golde boyleth best where it bubleth least. Yea but the flame pressed down, it inforceth smoke: Loue that is secretly kept, consumes in sorrow, and the fire of fancie raked vp in silence, will both fire the sences, and shrinke the sinewes. Ah but Susania, the Griphen neuer spreadeth his winges in the sunne, hauing anie sicke fethers, and a may­den snarde in loue doth shame to bewray the same: what then shall Susania liue, and lose her beloued to whome she is so deare, as his faithfull wordes, with piteous sighes, bewrayeth? yea, but the Crockidell singeth moste sweetest when he meaneth most subtiltie: the Scorpyon biteth moste venomous, when he is least suspected: and may not An­drugio, thinke I, put a dissembling visard vppon his fayre face? But suspitious girle, what cause hast thou, to imagine anie such thought of him, whose othes, made in the sight of heauen and the Gods confirme his trueth. Blush therefore Susania, at thy folly, and take heede in time, suppresse that fancie that maintaines this affection, for litle sparkes may proue great flames, and small twigges growe to tall Cedars. Loue is a Lord, who like an ambitious Caesar, that is graunted a part, resteth not till hee dangereth the whol possessiō. Knowest thou not y^t to loue, is to liue in losse. Remember Susania, men be subtill, and full of deceipt, Theseus was false, and Demophon faultie, else had Ari­adne bene fortunate in her loue, and Phillis happie: but what then, because some were faultie, is none firme? pause there Susania, though snowe melt, flint is another sub­stance, [Page] gall is bitter, yet honie pleasant: therefore measure the condition of al men as they be, and conceiue of Andru­gio, as of a noble Lord, whose wordes shewes [...] whose faith is firme yea, but wretched Susania, [...] noble, thou farre inferiour to him, whose parent [...]s know­ing the match, will disdaine him for my sake.

Looke not therfore so hie, least some danger befall thee, none gazeth in the sunne, but the Eagle. Iccarus presumed to mount into the ayre, but his climing cost his life. An­drugio is no fondling, though thou wouldest. wherefore, content thee fondling, and rather die, then indanger either thy friend that loues thee, or thy owne credite, which will be crased, if it be but knowne the least sparke of thy loue to Andrugio, peoples toonges being so sharpened with standered arrowes. Thus heauily without comforte, be­wayling her hard fortune, that God had not made her a matche sufficient to linke with Andrugio, we leaue her to her sorrowes.

Eugenia whiche hath rested little since his departure from the duke of Saxony, diligently searching Andrugio, whom he found as you haue heard by chance, is nowe ari­ued in the court of the Duke his mayster, vnto whome hee relateth the vnhappie aduentures of Andrugio, with the deathe of his companie. This heauie newes bre [...] great discontent in the heartes of all courtiers, yea there was not one that shed not teares for their dead companions, bitterly bewayling them, whome they are sure neuer to see againe liuing.

The heauinesse of the aged duke somewhat ouerpassed, carefull for his towardly sonne, aduising what is best for his welfare, hath determined, for auoyding of succeeding dangers, to post Elanicus again to the place, from whence he came, and with straight charge, not to suffer him to pro­ceede farther in his iourney, which had bene so vnfortunate vnto him.

With this commandement Elanicus is againe depar­ted, [Page] taking small ease vntill hee came to the millers house, where he thought to haue found Andrugio: but for all his hast the bird was flowne ere he could returne. Andrugio hauing thorowly debated of his loue with Susania, is nowe concluded of the matche, so that there is a mutuall loue, en­tered both their heartes, in somuch that one of them may not sorrowe without great griefe to the other, that with much adoe he craueth leaue for a time to goe to Siena: thus hauing obtained his desire, recompensing his host for the charge bestowed, taking leaue of Susania, his deare belo­ued, he is departed towards Siena, leauing the poore mai­den grceuously lamenting his absence, whome neyther the gentle perswasions of the father, nor care of the mother may mittigat so effectually was loue in the hart of this sillie mayden, that neither distance of place, nor the threates of the pareutes, whiche were many: coulde any whit preuayle, no there was not one day, houre, nor minute, wherein she did not with great aboundance of teares bewayle the absence of her Andrugio, in this sort.

Ah Andrugio, sweete Andrugio, let these droppes of lukewarme teares shed from the spring of myne ouerbur­dened heart, be messengers of my loue, and let my woefull playninges shew the sorrow of thy poore Susania, Ah An­drugio thy loue hath pearced the fort of my true loue, and by pitying thee, am I my selfe caught in that snare, which I feare hath so f [...]ttered me, as nought but deathe can lose me: Andrugio, sweete obiects of my thoughtes, are the onely cause of my mourning, rest therefore in peace my dearest friend, and let thy faith remaine firme, play not the part of Thesus, now thou art departed, least worse betide me then Ariadne, Medea: her wretched miserie, procu­red through false Iason, may cause all of our sexe distrust men.

But peace Susania, the prating byrdes may declare thy hard opinion vnto thy Lord Andrugio, whiche beeing knowne, may giue him cause to abuse thee, cease therefore [Page] thy prating miserable wretche, and inioy thy [...]are in court, let thy sighes be messengers of thy good wil vnto him, stu­die to be pleasant with thy parents, to recouer their health impayred for griefe of thee, yea learne to be content in sor­row, though thy hart be wounded: hope is a medicine most precious, then applie it, and dispayre not: Andrugio is ho­nourable, faithfull, and kinde, whose teares spent in the bit­ternesse of his sorrowes, and many othes protested, to cause me graunt him fauour, I am sure shall neuer be violated. wherefore wretched Susania, test thee content in this hope for a time: when thou shalt heare more of thy best beloued Andrugio, with this falling into a sweete s [...]mber, ease to her grieued heart we leaue her.

Time hath brought Elanicus vnto the place where hee supposed to haue found the Lord Andrugio, who doub­ting that which insued, loth to be detained from his desire, is now gone to Siena, whose departure Elanicus bewayleth, accusing him of vngratefulnesse to his friend, disobedience to his father, whose fauour he no more extenued, but to adde more forrowe vnto his aged hart through this l [...]wd depar­ture against all promises at their last taking leaue eche of other. Elanicus hote on the spurre to see Andrugio, and to bring him to the duke, maketh short stale, but departeth neuer resting vntill he had found him in the beautifull City of Siena, vnto whome hauing deliuered the pleasure of his father, Andrugio returneth this answere.

It is not vnknowne vnto thee, my swe [...]te Elanicus, what earnest suite I made before I obtained grant of my father, for this iournie, and how long before he would con­sent to the same: wherfore, my good friend, let it not seeme any thing discontent vnto thee, that I refuse to heare thy message and obey it, I trust my father knowing before this my minde will be the better satisfied, and pardon my pre­sumption for this offence in breaking his commandement: for doubtlesse, resolued I am not yet to returne, vntill I haue seene the maners of this honourable place, so much [Page] commend in [...]ll princes courtes.

Elanicus when he heard Andrugio his minde, and saw-that is was as easie to carie backe the whole citie, as dis­swade him being there, was sorrowfull at the heart, yet ho­ping to perswade him, replieth.

Gratious Lord, how tender your welfare is vnto me, my soule beare witnesse, neither will Elanicus euer offer to speake, but for thy benefite: mooued therevnto by zeale and dutie both to the Duke and you. Stand not therefore (Andrugio) vpon these tearmes of disobedience to your fa­thers command, for the hearing of your contrarie answ [...]e how kinde soeuer, will cost his life: yea, the very remem­brance of your disobedience, whom hee so carefully loueth, will bring his white head with sorrow to his last home. A­gaine, my gratious Andrugio, if nature and the Gods cal him to the heauens, where all our hopes be to rest, you bee­ing absent, in what estate shall your country stand? Soue­ [...]anitie is a vild worme, and such a bait as wil make many a­spyring minds in the absence of their Soueraigne to reuolt, especially they being of power, when once for feare of tu­multes planted in thy countrie they be not easily displaced: so maist thou be cosoned of thy gouernment, and by treason vnhappily done to death. Againe, thy father hardly dige­sting thy harsh demeanour, may disinherit thee, and so leaue thee to thy fortune. Many other casualties there be, more then the sorrowes of my heart will permit me to vtter: let it therefore suffice that my words spoken of the tender ʒeale of my heart may remooue thy fond determination, so maist thou keepe the good will of thy father, preserue his life, and enioy thy countrie and friendes. Teares would not suffer him to speake what he had to say: wherefore constramed, he ceaseth his parlie.

All the speeches Elanicus could vse, was bootlesse, nei­ther was his counsell regarded more, then of a childe which hath no vnderstanding. So bent was this colt to take his race for a time, and therefore besought Elanicus to per­sist [Page] from perswading him farther, for he was resolued not to returne suddainely, if all the kingdomes of the earth lay thereon.

Elanicus faithfull to his Lord and maister, and kind to Andrugio, when as he perceiued how hee was be [...]t, and that it was as easie for him with the Osterich to swallowe yron, or w^t his nailes to crash hard flint, as with his wordes to win him to his desire and cause him to returne: with a heart as heauie as Hero for losse of her Leander, after hee had vttered in milde tearmes his faithfull minde, taking leaue of Andrugio, returneth to the court of Saxony, lea­uing him to his owne will for a time.

Who in the vniuersitie hath planted himselfe to studie, and was in short time growen into great familiaritie with diuers yoong gentlemen: amongst others, with whom hee vsed daylie to frequent, Galastina, sonne vnto the Duke of Millaine, and be became most conuersant, from whose companie (so mutuall was their loue, and their liking so great one to the other, that they might neuer bee simdred, night nor day. No, neuer was the loue of Damon to his Pi­thia, nor Pylidies to his Orestes more firme then Andru­gio to his Galastina, for one heart vnited them, and one purse they vsed betweene them

But yet absence, which is the greatest enemie to his former desires, being so far sundred from his Susania, hath not power to put her out of minde, but euer in the midst of his mirth would he call to mind his deare loue, and often with a sigh rehearse her name, saying, Susania, sweete and con­stant Susania. So often he vsed this, so that in the end Galestina desirous to knowe what dame shee was of whom by day he talked so much, and in the night dreamed of, was so unportunate on him, as hee might not hide the flame no longer, of which so greate smoake was seene, and therefore Galastina brake with him on this maner and fashion.

Andrugio, now my second selfe, whose welfare I e­steeme [Page] as mine owne, and according to the dutie of a friend, regard thy friendship as my life.

I haue noted euer since thy comming to Siena, amongst all thy myrth, how suddainly it hath bene ouershadow [...]d with sighes and fantasticall speeches tending to loue, as thy passion describeth: If it be so my Andrugio, thou art ente­red into the most intricate labormth that can be, and such as exceede the capacitie of men to conceiue, such a worme is it as I greatly feare thy health: yea, and without con­tent shortly thy life. For doubtlesse to loue is not tollerable especially, where the loue is absent. Besides, it hath manye defectes, as if thy loue be sctled on a Dame full of disdaine, who regardeth thee not. Yf shee be poorer then thy degree doth require, then is she loth some to thy kindred, how plea­sing soeuer she be to thee. Loue they say is a commander, and of the common people tearmed a God, & honored with glorious tytles, yea, some are so besotted in planting their loue, that they reape for their best fruit endlesse misery, or preuent it by vntimely death, from which the Gods preserue thee my Andrugio.

But sweet friend, if thou wilt be aduised by him who is as deere in respect as mine owne heart, listen as litle to Ve­nus allurements, as I doo to Cupids flateries, so shalt thou haue no cause to say the Gods be vniust, nor women cruell: for I thinke of Loue, as Gnato the Greeke did, who was woont to say, that of all plagues wherewith mortall men are aff [...]iced, loue was the greatest, for that they earnestlye desired that for their comfort, which they founde their mor­tall death.

Andrugio hauing listened to Galastina his oratiō could not well tell how to digest his speech, yet after a small pause taken, answered.

Why Galastina, doost thau count it madnesse to loue, or him besotted that yeeldeth vnto affection: Knowest thou not or art thou so fond as not to know, that Loue is deuine, and can command by his power? Who subdued the heartes [Page] of inuincible warriours, whome Fort could witholde, no Force withstand, and who subdued the whole worlde but loue? Alexander, Hercules, Scypio [...], and manye o­thers haue subiected them to loue. Therefore thinke not as the Greeke did, that loue is a plague, least thou die an here­ [...]ike, beleeue hee is fauoured of the Gods that is an hap­pie Louer.

In faith no (quoth Galastina) for I count him most vn­happie which is in loue most happie.

Why then Galastina, thou thinkest him vnhappie that loueth.

Orels (quoth he) I should thinke amisse. Should I thinke him happie, which for one penny of coyne cecey­ued at his neede, shall lie shut vp in prison all dayes of his life? Or for one dramme of prosperitie, reapeth a whole pounde of miserie? Shall I esteeme him happie in loue, whose golden gaine prooues leaden griefe? No, that is nei­ther pleasure which is interlaced with paine, nor that hap­pines which turnes to losse.

Why then Galastina (quoth Andrugio) doost thou thus blaspheme against Cupid and his sweete mother? and esteemest thou so lightlie of loue, which is so great a commander.?

Because (quoth hee) it is Loue, and is such a poyson, which infecting the mindes of men, entreth as pleasant as Nectar the drinke of the Gods, but prooueth more vytter than the ioyce of wormewood: for as the Mer­mayde bewitcheth hearers with her sweete musike, vntill they be iulled asleepe therewith, and so they fall into some danger. so amorous louers haue their sences besotted with the franticke passions of this Idoll Loue, that they ac­count not themselues happie, but in their most vnhappines, being at most ease in their disquiet: at greatest rest when they are most troubled, seeking their pleasure in care, hunting continually after that, that bringeth endles harme and destruction vnto them, as I haue many examples [Page] Dauid and Sampson, in holy writ, Hercules, and Lean­der in prophane histories, and many more which I omit, wishing thee, my good Andrugio (if thou desire the fauour of so poore a friend as my selfe and thine owne quiet) to persist from loue otherwise, it will breede thy confusion.

This is your harsh sensure Galestina: but die not herein neither stand long vpon those tearmes, for if you doe, Ʋe­nus is angry at your blasphemie, will endite you as an he­reticke, both to nature and her selfe, and so plant you one day, for you-disdaine in loue, as you shall haue cause to la­ment, whilest you leaue your hard fortune: but for this time I am content to giue ouer this argument, least that my fol­lies in praysing loue, as thou sayest, should make the more earnest in enuying against that sweete goddesse, & so cause thy punishmentes to fall the sooner. For Ladies by kinde, the more they are grieued, the sooner they seeke reuenge of their enemie, of which number Venus accompteth the one to her Godhead.

My speeches, Andrugio, is no more then my heart thinketh, as should be apparant, if that foule goddesse (as thou tearmost her) were present: for I doubt least her fore­ces in loue, to inflict me with hauing alwaies reason, which shalbe of force sufficient to expell from my heart, that fran­ticke humour loue, in despight of the goddesse, and her blind sonne. But least we being friends become focs thorow this sound argument, we will for this time cease our parly.

The fire of loue, raked in the heart of Andrugio, began now to flame, insomuch that his onely care was how to at­taine the sight of his beloued Susania, as well to satisfie at full his minde, which often doubted of her welfare, as also to participate with her, in familiaritie.

Wherefore, after many determinations, which way he might with moste credite accomplishe the same: thorowly now resolued, without taking leaue of his friend Galastina or acquainting other with his pretence, hearing of a small [...]rke, which was readie to passe from Siena neere where [Page] his loue soiourned, he secretly enbarqueth him for the same iourney. But see howe this cruell enemie fortune enuying the towardnesse of this braue Gentleman, cammaunding Eolus as her vassaile, when as this barke was mid seas, of the port of his desire, pleasantly cutting the siluer waues with a gentle gale, and ech man for his recreation betakes himselfe vnto those pastimes, best him liked, for the begui­ling of time, sodamly might they heare a grecuous blu­string of winde, which came of a mayne tearing y^e waues before it, in which cruel tempest, y^e split of their maine saile, strooke ouer boord their maine mast, and with much adoe by the prouidence of him that preserueth all, and the good industrie of their comfortable maister, they escaped the dan­ger of drowning. A whole night thus spent in meditation to God for their deliuerie, no sooner-came the dawning of the day, when their watche espied a saile, and called vnto the companie for ioy, hoping of some comfort, they man'd their ship eche one censuring what the shippe should be: at length they might perceaue, though a farre off, her ordi­nance all made readie and put out, as if shee were presently minded to fight, this beeing perceaued, the maister called his companie togither, acquainting him what he thought, and besought their counsels in the cause if neede should be, whether they should fight, or yeald vnto their mercy. These speeches of the maisters appalled wonderously the compa­nie, so that sodainly they might not answere to his de­mand: At length Andrugio, as one shewing by outward signes, the noblenesse of his heart, when hee had long ex­pected the answeres of the companie, began to say.

Louing maister, whose courage sheweth you to be a man able to gouerne your charge, in whome nowe vnder God dependeth our welfare, or receiue what danger soeuer happen, God and your helpe withall, we will be partakers with you: if they be friendes, let vs intreate their fauour, for our reliefe in this extremitie, for that we need it, if they contrary to our expectation abuse vs, euerie man resolue to [Page] lie rather then submit our selues to such we knowe not: my selfe, albeit yoong, and neuer haue tried the forre of my [...] ioynted armes, shall by industrie encourage the rest of you to doe your indeuour. An honourable death is al­waies to bee preferred before an ignominious life: resolue therfore with me, & maister, whose charge we are all vnder God, sweare euerie man to that is sayd, so shall we be sure euery man for himselfe, to performe what you pretend.

Then maister noting the courage of Andrugio, whose fe­minine face shewed him fitter for a chamber, then a field, commended highly his forwardnesse, imagining with him selfe, that albeit he tooke not vppon him the worthinesse of his birth, nor claimed the place fitting his degree, yet doubtlesse was descended of some noble progeme. And in quitall of his valour showne, to make him ad more courage to his inuincible heart, he elected him their captaine, com­manding all the companie to vse him accordingly, and to be ruled by his directions, of whome hee was perswaded to be valiant, discreete, and well gouerned.

Andrugio called to this honour, bethought him of hys charge, which vnwillingly hee had receaued by the impor­tance of the maister & his companie, yet as the shortnesse of time would permit him, gaue directions more fitter for an olde captaine, then a nouesse following the counsell of such antient souldiers, which he had red, to the great admi­ration of his companie, and incouragement of them all.

By this time their enemies, (as they proued to be) were within hayling, where a couple of desperate villaines, not regarding the miseries of those distressed creatures, whose ship they saw so beaten with fortimes stormes, in the top of their ship waued thē with their bright sworde amain, their Trumpets sounding likewise destance vnto them, bearing still vppon this distressed companie which were not a little greeued to see that offered vnto them, fearing greatly that which after happened.

Andrugio, our yoong captaine, when he perceiued their [Page] intentes, knowing their forces to be weake, and not able without the prouidence of God to withstand them, [...] ought it most fittest to put in proofe the pollicie of which they had determined then to fight it out with handie strokes, per­swading himselfe of the best, commaunded all the [...]mpa­nie to bestowe themselues vnder hatches, and with those fewe, small shot they had, and other hand weapons at their bording to apply vpon aduantage their prin [...]e fightes, pla­ring in diuers corners vnder their deckes, barrels of pow­der, readie to fire if neede should be, and so to procure the end of their enemies with their own, by blowing them ouer borde.

The accursed pirate, being come within shot, dischar­ged a minion vpon them, mauger their shippe with th [...]se [...]ake-shames they had abord, whose gri [...]ly lookes shewed them like deuils, so blacke and vglie were their coun [...]nan­ces with long keeping the seas, that for all this Andru­gio, would not [...] of his companie to appeare, but onely himselfe, and one more, or two with him to helpe to take in such small sayle as they had, as presently they did.

By which, the Pirate assured him of the ship with such goods as was in her: Thus making all speede they might, as desirous to knowe what they were, and what wealth they had, making no reckoning to be resisted, grapled their ship with the vnfortunate barque of Andrugio, and despe­rately entred, dnubting nothing of that which happened. When Andrugio sawe them all aboord, by giuing his watchword to the ambush vnder the forecastie, they present­ly gaue fire to their powder: the forc [...] of which, caried both decke and men ouerboord: The Pyrates insinated at this suddaine mischiefe, were wonderfully perple [...]ed: yet as men dreading neyther God nor deuill, they persisted most terriblie in their actions, threatning vengeance to Andru­gio, who gaue his other signe and blew vp both mast and all the waste of the ship, where by he was almost [...] of hys [Page] bad [...] in this sort all their p [...]wder, and his ship freed from those oppressing villaines, when they thought themselues sure, and to haue [...]aid aboord the Py­rates ship, with such men as he had in his companie, an other small Pinnisse waiting on this ship had recouered thē, which for [...] se [...]ne, and approching neere the Barke [...] Andrugio, seeing so small stirring, made reckoning that their co [...]fortes were rifling their prise, and desirous to haue part of what they should finde, stood not demaunding question [...]s, but boorded them also: in the entering of which, Andrugio [...]lew their Captaine, to the terrour of his enemies which looked for no resistance. But all in vains was their proceedi [...]gs, for his men with blowing the powder were either fore hurt or slaine, so that perforce he was compelled to y [...]lde himselfe. These [...] nowe being maister of this weather beaten Barque, and saw what spoke those small companie had made, their companions were grieuously vexed, and greatly threate­ned Andrugio with bitter tormentes for his valour shewed against them, and especially for the death of those Cap­taines their gouernours.

Andrugio thus in the handes of those people, of whom he earnestly be [...]ought fauour could hardly be permitted life, such was their crueltie in reuenge of their Captaines death whom they lost in boording Andrugio his Barque: yea, they had examined to be the cause of their resistance, was more then for all the rest: yet as greate as their furie was, behold when as many tormenting deathes and most bitter were called to minde, and none thought bitter enough for him, pitie mooued the hearte of one gratious fellow of some ac­count amongst them, to compass [...]on, who noting the milde countenance of Andrugio, and considering his valour, ear­nestly besought his company for his sake, to forbeare the ex­ecution of their crueltie towardes him in bereauing the life of this yoong prince: which with much adoo was gran­ted him.

[Page] Thus at the intercession of thos [...] [...] w [...]s An­drugio his life preserued to greater extremities, for swee­ter had death bene vnto him, if they had shewed their cruel­tie then life, for that he was marked in his byrth vnfortunats as the storie shall shew you.

Well, those cursed true hauing most violently handled such as remained aliue in the ship, commanded Andrugio to be as hardly intreated as might be, oppressing his body with cruell afflictions toomuch for any to enduce, yet could his noble mind neuer [...] to intreat for pardon: albeit they should haue carued his flesh from his [...] with their meate kni [...]es, or with [...] haue nippe [...] the same a­way. To which his [...] courage, his ancient friend that had saued his life, gaue good notice, and [...]ued his case, but could not redresse him, neither shew any more fauour vnto the Gentleman then he did, yet as opportunitie was offer [...] when his [...]acking [...] were at play, or otherwise busied, he would vifite him, and comfort him as well as hee could.

But so long continued, this good theefe his familiaritie towardes him, that in the ende Andrugio confessed vnto him, of what parentage he was descended, and how fortune in this time of his youth had continually dealt with him, omitting nothing: whiche lamentable oration of his ouer­heard, with promise made, when God should to send them to any harbor to release him, It was presently carried to such as was chiefest amongst them in commission, for as yet they had appoynted no captaines of their ships.

The reporter of this newes had skarsly finished his tale, when furiously and in great rage they commaunded Andrugio and his friendes to be brought vnto them: the miscreantes de [...]canting the meane while, of such crueltie as they should both receaue.

No soner came these vnhappie men before those merci­lesse bloudsuckers, bent to begin their tormentes, they caused them to be hoisted to the yard arme, and so drencht [Page] in the seas, at which their misseries they tooke exceeding delight: By this this time to aggrauat their misery they had deuised to strip them naked, and euery man with a cordes end as they passe them, turning round the capstone to deale such strokes vpon their bare carkasses as they could with pitie of heart, either for crueltie of encreasing their paine, bestow on them: or of compassion fauour them. But the Gods that yeeld comfort in extremite, looking on those af­flicted persons, preserued them from this punishment: For behold, as they were in stripping them, they espied a fleet of Gallies at sea, which in the calme made such speede to them as they might not escape by any meanes: wherefore they commanded Andrugio with his companion to the bil­bowes, & themselues to determine for defence against their enemies, whom they might easily perceiue, now pretending to haue some saieng to them, and to repay their bloody ty­rannie vsed, with the like.

Time hath brought those discried fleet within litle more then a league, so that they might easilie discerne them to be Gallies belonging to the gouernours of Trypolie, of which place those villaines had wronged many, and therefore their feare began the more to encrease, doubting that if they fell into their handes, as they did not know howe to withstande them, their crueltie vsed to others would be repaied: wher­fore like friends that in many mischiefes had ventured to­gether, they resolutely determine to die and liue together, and so preparing themselues with those fewe, Andrugio had lift them, to be in readinesse, ordering their fightes with the best pollicie they could: they scantly had finished what they would haue done, when a cannon shot comming frō one of those Gallies, stroke their maine mast by the boord, and so beat their ship with shot, with the losse of diuers of their companie, that in vaine they resisted: wherefore spreading their flag of truce in their missen top, They committed themselues to mercie of those, with whome there is no mer­cie at all.

[Page] When the smoke of the peeces was cleared, and that they saw there came no more shot from the ship thinking be­fore they had lost her: espying their slag of truce, the Cap­taine of the Viz-admyrall commanded the Helms-man to fal too and boord her, where finding those braue mates that had spoiled many, now in this conflict to stand as mute as silly sheepe before a woolfe, intreating hardly for their liues which could not be granted them, yet bound backe to backe, they left them lying on the hatches, vntill they had ransac­ked the Shippe, searching in euerie corner, and tooke the spoile.

VVhere finding our comfortlesse ANDRVGIO, and his pitifull companion, miserablie wronged in those yron Fetters, taking them to bee prisoners to those cruell and bloody Pyrates, and such as had bene wronged by them, commaunded that they should be released from their capti­uitie, and to be brought before the Admirall, which was pre­sently done.

Andrugio for all the tormentes hee had bene afflicted with, could not bee compelled to make himself knowen: but being by the Admyrall examined, what he was, and how hee fell into their handes: told him that hee was a passenger in a small Barque whom they had spoiled both of goodes and men, and that none of his companie remianed aliue, but himselfe only.

The Admyrall noting the courage of the prince, com­manded that he should be brought with his fellow prisoner aboord his owne Gallie, requiting the crueltie of the rest as they had deserued: for beeing bound backe to backe, heaued ouerboord, ending their liues in blood as they had liued, Ha­uing taken such spoiles as those Pyrates had aboord, they s [...]ed the shippe and fell to the Sea, seekeng more ad­uentures.

Hauing thus some leysure to debate of thinges passed, the Generall called to minde Andrugio and his mate, who were not [...] grieued to thinke what miscrie they were [Page] like to come to being faln into the hands of those mercilesse and vnhallowed people of whome there was no hope of fa­uour at all.

As the generall commanded, they were brought before him, of whome he diligently inquired of what countrey they were, and how they chanced to their handes, who kept them captiue. To whome Andrugio hoping of fauour, declared that he was borne in the Duke of Saxons country and being a student in the vniuersitie of C [...]silia, as he was minded to see his father being a poore gentleman of that countrie, was surprised with those pyrates, which had delt with them, and his companie, as himselfe had before heard.

The generall for his owne part hearing him make his lamentable complaint, might well haue shewed himselfe a pitifull gentleman, and haue released Andrugio. But for­tune halling on [...]ore miseries vpon him, the onely author that must pl [...]e her miserable commedies: gaue notice to the captaine of another Gallie, who was a vowed enemie to the Duke of Saxonie, and all his countrey, which came presently a bord the Admirall, and begge him for his priso­ner, which might not be denied, carrying him away from his friendly companie to his more griefe, and chayned him with the foremost ore, next his cabine, that hee might haue the ouerseeing of his labour and punishment himselfe, of whom this miscreant tooke no compassion at all, But ioyed when he saw the Booteswayn, bestow his cruel almes with a r [...]pes end on his naked skinne: yea and often would cause him without anie cause to be greeuously beaten: thus the space of one whole [...] indured this yoong prince: hys captaines rigour, at which times greeuous stormes oppo­sed the whole fleete of Gallies, that they were enforced to put into harbour, and hardly escaping the perill of drow­ning, yet recouering with much trouble their desired port, the captaine not vnmindfull of Andrugio, commanded him a shore, and where the other slaues had libertie, commanded him to be shut close within a most darke and lothsome dun­gion, [Page] into the which entered no maner of light, where hee sorrowed and sighed moste lamentably, exclayming on for­tune, and cursing the time wherein he first made motion of parting from his princely father, which found him dearer then his own life. Thus foure moneths (too long a time for people in suche extremitie) passed in serable Andrugio in most grieuous aduersitie, hauing scarse clothes to hide his secretes of nature, and no other sustinance, but the great boulting of barly meale, mingled with water, which was not all times of the best, yet in the midst of all whiche mise­rie, Cupid a confederate, with his sworne foe fortune, be­gan to remoue his thoughts with that fresh remembrance, of his dearest and most beloued friend Susania, for whose sake in going to see her, more dearer then his life vnto him, his miserie began: the remembrances of whome in the extreamest anguishe of his miserie, bredde suche sweete comfort, that there was no houre, yea sleeping or waking wherin he ceased to call vpon the name of his deare mistres and comforte of his life Susania, sometime exclaiming on fortune for her crueltie against him, other while, making his orisons, to Venus for fauour, that by the vertue of her god-head, she might so worke with her sonne Cupid, y^t where it should please the giuer of all comforte to free him from that captiuitie, he might once inioy the sight of his so long desired Susania.

Lo thus passing his miserie in the most patientest fort that hee might, the omnipotent Creator to shewe thereby his glorie, and to make Andrugio feele the fauour of his sweete and gratious hand, when this filthie dungion, the place of his miserable lodge, had so weakened his corpes, with short diet, and moste lothsome funels, and that past hope of euer seeing anie creature, but the barbarous hard hearted and pittilesse villaine his iaylour, loe there, behold how sweete a comforte on the sodaine vnexpected vnto him happened.

The Emperours daughter, Princes Guyrdania, wh [Page] betrothed vnto the Barbarian king, accompanied with ma­nie states of great honour, with the kinges of Denmarke, and Sweathland, who for honour of the mariage, as also for the ease of the aged Emperour, accompanie this prin­ces, were all by weather most greeuously seabeaten, and the ship where the two kinges and princes were, hardly escaped the danger of splitting.

But after this moste grieuous storme, putting into the port of Tripolia. They had no sooner anchored their shippes, but presently they dispatched ambassadors to the gouernour, making themselues knowne vnto him, with in­treatie, for the princes, who hardly brooking her last dan­ger, surprised with the feare of death, and weake with their long beating at sea, was verie euill at ease, for whom their desire was, to haue entertainement.

This knowne to the gouernour, no lesse courtesie, then honourable, he assembling the chiefest captaines, & Bur­gurs of the Citie, and with their moste conuenient speede prepared themselues towardes that place of the harbour where this wearie beaten shippe anchored, when shewing themselues on the shoare in the sumptuous maner they could vppon so short warning, they dispatch [...] Embassa­dours to the kinges, willing hun to declare their plea­sures vnto them in this sorte.

That whereas they had so hardly escaped the danger of shipwracke, and by Gods prouidence vnexpected of them, had fortuned into that place, a Citie farre vnable to giue such entertainement, as there estates required, yet howe welcome they were vnto them, as vnto the subiects of their gracious soueraigne, and their highnesse friendes to their vtmost power it should be showne. And farther, that they being principall vnder their soueraigne, attended with re­uerend duetie their highnesse comming to the shoare, to conduct them vnto their lodginges, which in the best maner was preparing for their entertainement.

When the Embassadour had declared this aunswere [Page] from the gouernour. The two kinges verie glad thereof, expected the same with thankes: and giuing order for the landing of their traine, with such necessaries as was abord of prouision, they besought the princes to be readie with them, to goe a shoare, where these honourable and wor­shipfull gouernours of the saide Citie, attended their com­ming, with all their ladies in their coaches, to welcome the Princes, at whose meeting, the courteous welcomes, with the fauourable thanks returned from these princes, I omit: but with great honour and welcomes from all estates, as well the poore as the best, they were conueyed to their lodging, which was in the kinges owne pallace within the walles of the same Citie, where reposing themselues, I leaue them to their solace for a time.

When these noble princes, had ouer passed their weary toyle and hard trauaile without some ease taking, then be­gan the nobles of this Citie, to deuise some pastimes, as well to recreat their mindes, which were giuen to melan­cholicke for losse of their shippes, of whome they heard no newes: amongest which, the captaines gathering theyr men togither, rigged and furnished a dosen gallyes and pinnasses to the sea, with intent to shewe their maner of fight and sea skirmishes, to which seruices, was Andrugio and his fellow pyrate called, to take their places at an ores end, as before they had done.

When all thinges was prouided for this pastune, the princes hauing taken place to beholde the same: in whiche fight after a little time, the gally wherein Andrugio was, being by another taken, his captaine, aswell to shewe what extremitte they vsed to those they vanquished, as to grieue the body of Andrugio, caused him to be stripped, and most greeuously to be whipped, and after, by the armes with two great waites at his toes, hanging, to be drawne vp to the yard arme, where, when he had hanged, that all men pitied him sauing his mercilesse captaine, at the crie of the people was at length let downe. But to agrauate still his extreame [Page] griefe and torment of body: the Captaine (as one bent to seeke his vtter destruction, prouided yet a more greater torment both bytter and cruell: for loe, when time had brought their pastimes to end, This mercilesse tormenting Captaine, inuited all the Captaines to a banquet aboord his Gallie: at the end whereof, he caused Andrugio to be cased in the raw hide of a new slaine woolfe, which with the ship­dogges from euery Gally, baited him beastlike, in such ma­ner, that they had like to haue wearied him, sometimes tea­ring his armes and legges, otherwhile the other partes of his bodie, which crueltie of the dogges, vexing poore An­drugio, bred such content to the barbarous villaine, that his heart was more ioyed with the sight thereof, than if hee had receiued a noble victorie against his enemies: such deadly hatred had the cruell tyrant conceiued against An­drugio.

At this banquet there chanced to bee a noble man of the traine of the Princesse Gurdania, whose heart pitieng An­drugio so much that he could not endure the sight of his ex­tremities: but turning his head from that which the barba­rous people tooke delight in, he secretly enquyred what hee was that was so hardly vsed aboue the rest of those slaues. these questions of the noble man was demanded by chance of y^e pyrate before taken with Andrugio, who being a faire welspoken man, and of good demeanor, recounted at large vnto this noble man Andrugio his tormentes, & besought him, that as he was a gentleman, to take compassion on his miserie, and buy him for money, or by some other meanes to worke his deliuerie: for that if he remained amongst them, this would euery day be their vse vntill God by death shal thinke good to end his sorrowes, albeit hee was in his Countrie a Gentleman of good name and honorable repu­tation.

The noble man mooued with pitie and compassion at the Pyrates ruthfull tale, thought euery minute of an hower a day, vntill he might come to the presence of those two [Page] kinges and the Princesse, which he might not do that night: Wherefore in the morning awaiting earnestly to bring his desire to effect, he was brought before them, vnto whom he recounted the grieuous sight he had seene, and how much it troubled his minde, and grieued his heart to thinke that euer Christian should endure such miserie. VVhere, in the most earnest manner that hee coulde, besought the Princesse and the Kinges of Denmarke and Swethland to procure his freedome, either by intreatie, or for ransome, at his charge, to what somme soeuer it amounted.

The princes hearing this dolefull discourse, mooued to pitie his miserie, sent for the gouernour, and besought him, that as their welcomes had bene great, and their enter­tainment exceeding, so they might craue his friendship in a suit they had to impart vnto him.

The Gouernour glad to content those princes with all the fauours he might, did not only by his word assure what they desired, but deepely sware they shoulde obtaine what they craued: holding himselfe highlie in their fauour, that they would demaund any thing that lay in him to performe, beseeching to know what their suit was.

The princesse thanking him for his kindnesse, and fauor, told him that their suit was for the libertie of a slaue, a poor man, and what ransome hee would demaund, he should haue with thankes.

My gracious Lords (quoth the Gouernour) not one, but all the prisoners and slaues in this place shall bee at your highnes command: and therefore I humblie beseech you to let me knowe his Captaines name, and the person, and hee shall presently be sent for.

The noble man whose desire was to haue Andrugio his libertie, very glad to heare his suite growe to so good effect, gaue thankes to the gouernour, describing vnto him what he was, and in what Gally, but his name he could not remember, which by the especiall notes giuen, was well knowen vnto the Gouernour, who with all speed dispatched [Page] one of his seruantes for Andrugio, commanding that hee should be brought vnto his lodging, which presently was ac­complished. Whom when the gouernour saw, he demaun­ded of what calling and countrey he was, and how long hee had serued in their Gallies. To whom Andrugio answe­red: by byrth (noble Lord) I am a Saxon, of reputation a Gentleman, and passing the seas, was most vnfortunatelye taken prisoner by the Fleete of Gallies that last serued a­gainst the king of Spaines forces. This fourteene moneths haue I endured most miserable seruitude and grieuous pu­nishmentes by my vnmercifull and rigorous Captaines-command.

VVhen the Gonerall had heard him, commaunded his man that he should be cloathed in a faire suite of apparell of his owne, and so presented him to the Princesse, vnto whō he was verie acceptable:

Thus when Andrugio by the appointment of the Gods had remained a while at libertie, and that the princes had well reposed themselues, prouision was made for their de­parture vnto the Barbarian King, of whome they were ex­pected long, by reason of some of their Fleet arriuing in his countrie. all things being ready for them, a faire gale blow­ing, they take their leaues of the Gouernour, whome they reward with great and bountifull presentes, with much courtesie and thankes for their royall entertainment, the which they vowed should neuer be forgotten. And so bid­ding them farewell they imbarqued themselues for their pretended iourney, with whom also departed Andrugio, attending vppon the Lord Ieronymy, who had released him.

Thus by the prouidēce of the hiest, Andrugio was from the miserie he endured deliuered, and in great fauour of the Lord Ieronymy his maister, vnto whose gouernment hee committed all his affaires, who so well behaued him selfe, that he was in great account of his Lord and louing maister.

[Page] Their businesse and honorable mariage of the Empe­rours daughter accomplished, and the kinges with their traines safely retourned to their owne countrie, Andrugio highlie in fauour of his Lord, gained so the loue of all the people, that none of the retinue of his Lord, was helde in such account of all estates, as well of Nobles and Gentle­men of the countrie, as the inferiour sort. It fortuned, this Lord Ieronymie hauing one onely sister, wise, beautifull, and well gouerned, hearing such generall commendation of Andrugio, and amongst the rest her brother so highly to commend him in all places, and at all times, so that his com­mon talke was euer to the credite of Andrugio, which no­ted in the yoong ladie Messeliua, (for so was she called) her affection began to encrease towards him in such wise, that from a small sparke, the fire of fancie began to grow to a great flame, and her chiefe and onely delight was in behol­ding of her best beloued Andrugio: yea, her thoughtes were so setled vpon him that in the night she dreamed of him, and in the day he was neuer out of her remembrance, in so much that this passion increasing, she began to growe into great extremities, euermore deuising what meanes she might best worke to make her loue knowne vnto him: now casting this doubt, then another, so that in no sort shee might settle her thoughtes how to bring her desires to ef­fect, in such maner as she might be void of suspition to the world, and acquaint Andrugio with her secrete loues to­wardes him, hauing not any friend of familiaritie to bee aduised by, but her wayting woman, of whose trust and fidelitie in such a waightie cause shee was not as­sured of. Yet notwithstanding arming her selfe with hope, the only comfort of the distressed, she resolueth with her selfe a litle while longer to beare it out, hoping that time and her courtesie vsed towards him, might cause him to craue that which she could willingly, and with all her heart offer him.

Andrugio on the top of his pleasure, leading a life free [Page] from all incumbrances of body, yet could not forget the loue he bare his Susania, which howe often he called to minde, the more began his sorrow: yea such desire he had to see his best beloued, that his whole studie and continuall care was how to accomplish the same, in doubt of euerie occasion that might hinder his determination. Thus betweene doubt­fulnesse, and dispaire, liued this yoong prince discontented, that he tooke no pleasure in keeping anie kinde of compa­nie at all. Such was his honourable minde, with duetifull allegiance, tied by the lincke of faith vnto his Lord, who had freed him, that he durst not for feare of deniall, make any request for his fauour therein: and to goe of his free­will, he thought it villanie to requite with such ingratitude, so honourable a man, that loued him as his owne. Well so long continued those passions, abiding such grieuous tor­mentes of minde, that his liuely collour began to waxe pale and wanne: yea his bloud which was fresh, and well besee­ming, dried, and his bodie growne with continuall griefe in­to a faine sicknesse, insomuch that his alteration, was noted of all, lamented of many that did know him, but especiallie of the noble Lord Ieronimie, and his sister Messalina, who continually noted euerie sight, and woulde oftentimes de­mand the cause of his sorrowe, whiche by no meanes they could vse, he would discouer. But Lord Ieronimie, as one carefull of his well doing, woulde neuer be satisfied with such answeres as Andrugio would giue, nor allow his ex­cuses for trueth: wherefore taking him one day into the fields of purpose to solace, they spent their time in walking, pleasantly discoursing vntill the Lord Ieronimie comming to a pleasant medowe, bedecked with natures ornamentes as much as they had seene, which viewing, they both cen­sured of the bewtie of the field, one commending the de­lightful smell of floures, the other the situation of the place, which was most excellent, neere vnto the edge of one side running a most pleasant christall streame, which bubling ouer, the round Poples gaue a sweete noyse to the hearers [Page] vpon the side whereof was growing a rowe of moste ex­ceeding fine poplar trees, which ouershadowed the place, as it was most pleasant.

This place aboue the rest that they had chanced on, Lord Ieronimie those to solace himself in, as also fit for his purpose: wherefore, commanding Andrugio to sit down by him, like a louing kind Lord hee began to partici­pate with Andrugio, in this wise.

Andrugio, mine owne Andrugio, I haue long sought fit opportunitie, to haue secret conference with thee, and ha­uing found place and time for the same, be not moued, that I growe into those speaches, which I haue to vse, conside­ring that they bespoken of loue, and not maliciously. First my Andrugio, whiche I haue to say vnto thee is this, I haue since our comming from the mariage of my liege the Emperours daughter, noted many a sad and heauie coun­tenance in thee, which I knowe argueth a discontented mind, proceeding as my cōiecture assureth me of loue: now Andrugio, as I freed thee from the bondage of y^e turks vnknowne, if there be anie such cause, feare not to make it known vnto me. I haue vowed to pleasure thee al y^t I may, stand not therfore on nise tearms, but let me know y^e dame whom thou hast made choyse of, to gouerne thy affections, and if I seeke not all possible meanes for thy heartes con­tent, accuse me euer of dishonour, and holde me the moste wretched vile creature on the earth.

Andrugio hearing this discourse of his Lordes, which he least looked for, could not well on the sodaine tell how to answere, for that he was not assured whether he spake vp­on surmise, or that he had some secret knowledge of his loue to Susania, yet thinking to hasard his credite with Lord Ie­ronimie, he answereth.

My gracious Lord, what humble thanks my heart ren­dereth for so great fauours, my toonge cannot declare. But gracious Lord, where fortune hath placed an extraordinarie want, their wil shal supplie the defects of wealth, & loyaltie [Page] performe that whiche my meane abilitie can neuer put in practise, The tree that bringeth foorth no fruite, is good for fuell, and stones are not to be valued by an outward view, but an inward vertue, Prometheus did consture wel of the workes of Lycias, and I hope my gratious Lord will not misconsture the will of Andrugio, but rather, to cast an eye to my secret willingnesse, then to looke for me­rites which I cannot manifest: what I finde noble Lord by experience, the time and place forbids me to participate least I be accused of flatterie, yet what I conceiue, I leaue to your honourable coniecture, which I cannot any way discip [...]er: onely this alwaies accompt, Andrugio is your duetifull and loyall seruaunt vntill death, which hee hath vowed by the true band of friendship, neuer to violate: Thus finding in my selfe, a will that shall neuer wauer, a faith vnfained, and a life vowed to perpetuall loyaltie. Hoping that as Protagenes was excused for his vnper­fect pictures, by doing what he could, so also shall I finde your Lordshippes fauour, since I promise the performance of anie thing I may.

But my good Lord, touching your demand, I beseeche you thinke thus, that if there were any thing which distur­bed my quiet of heart, I should aboue all, for many consi­derations acquaint your Lordship with the same, but loue as your Lordship censured, it is not but as I can best con­ceaue of mine owne griefe, a melancholicke passion, naturally proceeding of desire, to see my natiue countrie, my prince and friends to whome it is altogether vnknown what is become of me, whether I liue or rest with death, Besides my good Lord, I liue heere a meere stranger in high fauour, reaping the benefite of your honourable coun­tenance, more then any man, whiche as I am stranger, may make me dread, the spight of some one or other, enuy­ing your Lordships will, when noting my vnworthinesse, for so great benefites, may seeke my confusion▪ Thus my good Lord haue I in the humblest maner I may, made [Page] knowne vnto your Lordship, the greatest and of what I say, for that it is spoken in trueth.

Andrugio answered his Lord, I take thy wordeas a warrant, for what thou sayest, & assure thee on my honour, that as thou art a stranger, thy welcome is the greater. I neither yet haue deserued at thy handes suche loue as thou professest me, but assure thee, hee shall not liue in bondes of my royaltie, that shall enuie Andrugio, or seeke to doe him the least wrong which may be offered a man. Therefore surcease thy heauinesse, and set feare apart, for of a Lord, I wil become a father vnto thee, and a friend vnto thy friends and louers. Time calleth vs nowe homeward, wherefore I will detayne thee no longer.

Andrugio glad at the heart, his counterfait answere was taken for currant, thought himselfe the happiest of manie, this communication was ended, and with a better will followed his Lord home then we can imagine, as glad he had escaped the suspition of his maister, as the scholler that feareth beating for his lesson: but nowe to returne to madam Melissina.

This Ladie whose heart Cupid hath made a prisoner vnto his dutie, sought manie times opportunitie to ease her griefe, by all the occasions she could imagine, but none that she durst attempt for feare: diuers times she determi­neth one meane, and fully resolueth to followe it, then the doubt of some contrary accident, driueth her into dispayre, combating thus in the extremities of her heart, deuising what was best to bring her desires to effect. Venus seeing her so firme and constant a souldier, lending a little ayd to comfort her, prouideth this shift. There was attending on a Lady, a neighbour of the Lord Ieronimie, a Gentlewo­man in Saxonie borne, with whome, for countries sake, Andrugio: grewe something familiarly acquainted with this gentlewoman, did Ladie Melissina seeke also to haue familiaritie, and on the sodaine began to accompanie her Ladie so often, that with her repayre, she grewe into great [Page] friendship with her waiting Gentlewowan, so much th [...]t there might no day stape her, without visiting her n [...]we ac­quainted friend. VVhen Melissina had with great fauours and bountie wonne this Gentlewoman to bee her friende, walking in a garden neere adioyning to her brothers house the brake with her in this sor [...]e.

Elenora (for so was she named) I haue seene thy honest kind demeanor as well to straungers as to thy Lady and friendes that prooue thy loue, and of all, of what estate or calling foeuer of our owne countrie, I haue for thy good behauiour made choise of thee, as of one to whom my hart hath linked her [...]elfe in bond of true friendship aboue all o­ther. Yf thou canst therefore (my sweete Elenora) thinke but the like of me. I protest vnto thee, from this time to the end of my life, I wil be a second Elenora, & honor thee as my self, vsing thee as if thou wert Melissina: speak therfore my friendly companion, if my offer be acceptable, resolue me, for I long to heare thy answere.

Elenora which had receiued great friendshippe at the handes of this Lady, knowing shee was of honour and of great reputation, thought her selfe happie to liue in the so­ci [...]tie of so noble a Lady. Yet notwithstanding the fauour offered, with humble and [...]utifull reuerence as one know­ing full well how to behaue her selfe, returned this answer.

My honorable Lady, how acceptable your gracious of­ter is vnto your seruant, I hope your wisedome will con­ceiue: far vnwoorthy I am to participate with so honorable a Lady in such familiarity as it hath pleased you to make of­fer. But seeing it standeth with your fauour to make choise of one so simple as I am, a Gentlewoman of meane paren­tage, and a straunger borne with all dutie: I commit my selfe vnto your Ladiships disposition: protesting that for e­uer Elenora is and shall be the dutifull attendant of Ma­dame melissina truely and faithfully to serue you in all re­uerence, as becommeth so noble a lady: to the which by the Gods that framed me, I sweare.

[Page] Ynough my Elenora (quoth Maddam Melissyna) geue me thy hand to performe thy saying, and hereafter leaue to vse these tearmes of reuerence to thy Melyssina, who hath in friendship vnited her selfe vnto thee, supposing the shape of Elenora to be transformed to Melyssina, and Melissina to Elenora.

And now Elenora, to make proofe of that which I hope to finde in thee, I must impart vnto thee, according to my trust reposed in thy secr [...]cie a matter of no small waight, with which (Elenora) I commit my honor, life, and reputation: which if I loued thee not, I [...]ould for euer con­ceale, as I haue long done from discloasing thereof to any friend whatsoeuer, yet dooth it concerne me neere. To make many words (my Elenora) is but to fill the aire with winde, and spend time, which we may hardly doo: for feare thou bee of thy Lady missed: and therefore briefy (sweete Elenora) I loue, yea loue I doo, with the most entire affe­ction and desire of my heart one with whome I knowe thy selfe to bee familiar, with whom my selfe cannot be acquain­ted yet I haue offered many courtesies, and offers of friendshyp, which hee regardeth not. This is the somme I haue to say, onely I omit his name vntill I heare thy answere.

Elenora seeing by her countenance that she meant what she said, striken in a dumpe, began to studie an answere, for for feare her rash proffer might breede cause of repentance, that shee had a louer of her own, whome shee was loth to spare to Madam Melissina, although she loued her well, yet after a pause taken, hazarding her word, she vowed deuoutly to conceale whatsoeuer should be vttered, and with her best counsell and greatest paines labour to bring her desire to effect.

Melissina hauing made sure worke with Elenora, was halfe comforted, and without any more protestations, told her, that Andrugio a seruant to the Lord Ieronymie, her [Page] countriman was the man, whom she fancied aboue all the creatures that euer her eies beh [...]ld. But such is his strange condition, that he abandoneth the famyliar companie et al, so that I cannot heare by the report of any one, that he [...]ee­peth companie with any but thee: Wherefore (sweete Ele­nora) as I haue with the integritie of my hart declared my zeale to thy countryman, so bee the instrument to bring my desires to effect, and command Melyssina, yea her [...] to doo thee good.

Melissina with teares trickling downe her cheekes ten­derly wringing Elenora by y^e hand finishing her long orati­on, of whom Elinora tooke such remorse as she was forced by the tender instigation of her heart to participate with her But hauing passed this womanish fit, she answereth, Mad­dame, I haue now what I desired, by knowing y^e man your heart so much wisheth to enioy, Patient therefore your selfe, and doo not with griefe oppres [...]e your heart, for sorrow is no medecine for this maladie, but a corosiue that will con­sume you, onely as you haue imparted the same vnto me, so leaue the execution thereof vnto me whome it concer­neth for your fauours shewed me in some part very neere.

Thankes (Elenora) for this comfort, wherewith thou hast indewed my heart with such a simpany of ioy, as I feel the sweetnesse thereof already dispearsed throwout euery member of my body. Time, an enemy to friendes ouer stip­peth so suddainly, that we must needes part for feare thou be missed: wherefore we will for this time cease our parly not doubting but that thou wilt remember me, and so de­parted Elenora to the house of her Lady, and Madam me­lyssina to her lodging.

Andiugio according to his accustomed maner, present­ly after supper comming to see his countriwoman, whome he found in a great studie, as one (as it might seeme) careful of that she had vnder taken: which gaue Andrugio cause to demaund the reason of her heauiues, which she manye [Page] wayes excused. But Andrugio measuring her fancies by his owne desires, in iest told her she was in loue. Entering thus into communication, Good countriman (quoth Eleno­ra) if your experience in Loue-causes be such, that you can conceiue by outward apparance, what the heart desireth, be not mooued, nor any thing displeased, if vnder benedicite I demaund with what Lady, Gentlewoman, or other you be your selfe in loue: Blush not man (quoth Elenora) for your wan lookes, your heauie sighes, and your griefe by outward apparance is such, that I haue noted in you a gret alteration since your comming home with my lord Ierony­mie, which doubtlesse argueth you are in loue. Wherefore (Andrugio) if thou be, feare not to disclose it vnto me, for a womans helpe may stand in such a cause in more steed then the counsell of an experienced wise man: and for my part I vow vnto thee by the honour I owe to Diana, and by all such holy rites as become a virgine, if either my paines or counsell may auaile thee, thou shalt [...]ud my worde and deed one: yea, if it were to manifest thy suite to Madam Melisi­sina thy Lords s [...]ster, if she he the woman.

I am very glad countriwoman, answered Andrugio that my comming hath remooued your melancholike hu­mour, and made you thus pleasant, but that I loue as thou supposest, I neuer did, nor neuer meane to do, because that experience by others hath taught me to eschew that hayte, which entering pleasantly, will confound the intrals and consume the he art, if that present remedie be not ministred in time by their desired Ladies, Therfore knowing the per­till, I will as I haue done, auoid that mischiefe, which may breed my confusion.

Well (quoth Elenora) I may take thy word, but how I beleeue thy weake answere I leaue to report, for that I knowe there is no creature liuing, who dooth not make es­peciall choise of one, with whom they participate aboue al other, and to loue (I know) is incident both to men and wo­men, by which I assure me Andrugio, thou doost loue, de­nie [Page] it as long as you will.

If thy reasons propounded, be true (Elenora) and that thou iudge of the secretes of my heart, by outward signes, why [...] thou denie thy loue to me, that so friendly de­manded to knowe thy choyse, at my first comming, thy countenance shewing it so plaine: for behold in thy forehead written that worde that Paris wrote euer in the sight of his beloued Helena, (I loue) which beeing apparant, why shouldest thou denie it.

Well Andrugio, it is folly for women, whose wittes be weake, to stand reasoning with men, whose studies in re­thoricke and logicke may perswade & deswade such fooles as my self, to what (in honest wise) they list, but were mad­dam Melissina here, you could not carrie it so away. It is nowe but early nightes, and my Lord and Lady in bed, wherefore good countriman, if thy businesse be not great, accompanie me to the Lady Melissinaes lodging, who I know, will bid you welcome, and for my sake, to whome I am bound, & would faine acquaint thee w^t her. Be not there­fore so strange, God may prouide for thee in time, that as the desertes hath wo [...]e the loue of the Lord Ieronimie, thou mayest likewise obtaine in time the loue of this Lady, and become heire of Lord Ieronomies liuing, for that hee will neuer marrie as I haue heard him say: and children he hath none.

Thankes good countriewoman, quoth Andrugio, for thy kinde frompe, a poore man may liue to requite you: for my companie, which you craue, if you will accept it, I am ready to waite on yoe to her Ladieship.

Elenora, glad that shee had made this entermed­ling to the Ladies motion, tooke him at his worde, and conducteth him vnto her lodging, whome they found readie to bed, that hearing the voyce of Elenora, com­manded her waiting woman to open the dore, Melissina seeing her beloued enter with her, was put to such an non plus, as she could not well tell what to say, that at last, re­moued [Page] from her studie, she bad him most heartily welcome, and demaunded the cause of Elenors comming, on such a sodaine: To who [...]e said Elenora, the trueth is maddam, that hauing this good companie of my countriman, and my leisure fitting, too vntimely yet to goe to bed, I intreated him to bring me hither, whither I trust he is welcome.

Elenora, quoth Melissina, he is in trueth welcome, for thy sake, as also his owne, and for that my Lord and bro­ther, doth so much fauour him as I know he doth, if it shall please him in anie sorte to vse my friendship, for his better preferment to my brother, or any one, he shall finde me rea­die: and good Andrugio, be no stranger vnto me, for of my honour, the honest care you haue of the charge my Lord hath committed vnto you, hath gained you credite with your Lord, and fauour of his friendes, amongest which Melissina, though she speake least for your benefite, yet will not be the last, make triall where you please.

The vndeserued fauours, I haue found at my honou­rable Lordes handes, with your Ladiships courtesies, poore Andrugio knoweth not anie way howe to deserue, but in trueth and loyaltie, to whiche in the most humblest maner, I binde me so long as I shall inioy breath, and if your Ladyship shall please to command Andrugio, my readi­nesse to your seruice shall shew my zeale, in performing the same.

Passing thus the time in communication to little pur­pose, the night reasonably well spent, Elenora bidding madam Melissina good night, takes her leaue with her friendly countriman.

After this first familiaritie, Andrugio had with mad­dam Melissina, oftentimes repayred vnto her lodging, as well to shew his dutie vnto her, as to spend the time in honest and friendly talke, discoursing of diuers thinges, to delight her, beeing often solitarie, as desirous of little co [...]panie, Andrugio and Elenora excepted, nowe began his miserie to approche. Fortune pretending to giue [Page] him another spurne, for loe, a gentleman of the Lord Iero­nimie, who bare secret loue vnto maddam Melissina al­beit he neuer durst reueale the same, yet continually would he walke at least two or three houres in the euening, neere about the lodging of his beloued Ladie, by which meanes, he chanced oftentimes to espie Andrugio, comming late from the Ladies lodging, which perceaued & noted, grow­ing iealous of his often repaice there, hee sought manie waies to acquaint his Lord with the same, but could not de­uise anie fit meanes to the accomplishing of the same, enuy­ing still in his heart Andrugio. This gentleman amongst others his companiōs, hauing spente their time in riotous drinking, and carousing, he began to accuse Andrugio of villany, saying, that there was no night escaped, wherein Andrugio vsed not in moste vile and dishonest maner, the bodie of madam Melissina. This talke noted of diuers, in the morning one enuying Andrugioes happinesse more then the rest, greeuing that a stranger should haue that countenance vnder their Lord, came vnto this foresayd gen­tleman, and charged him with his speeches, vsed agaynst madam Melissina, which he affirmed, whereupon finding as they thought, time to thrust him from their Lordes fa­uour, they determined to accuse him of the crime, & taking no respect on their deuise, they presently sought the Lord Ieronymie vnto whose presence being come, kneeling on their knees, they humblie besought his honour, to pardon them, for what they had to say. Ieronymie amased at this sodaine motion, desirous to knowe their mindes, bad them say on. Then thus my gracious Lord, whereas it hath plea­sed you of more zeale, and pitie to a Christian distressed, to free Andrugio from the captiuitie of the turkes slauery, of a bondman, to make him of great accompt in your coun­try: knowe this my honourable Lord, in requitall of those your honours gratious fauours bestowed vpon him, moste caytiue like, hee seeketh the dishonour of you and your house, by accompaning himselfe with your dearest and be­loued [Page] sister madam Melissina. This my good Lord, I speake not of any euill will to the man, nor enuiie to the Lady, but in trueth and dutie to your Lordship, for that I haue seene oftentimes my selfe, his repayre to her: and once suspecting the same, I followed him, when peering in at her chamber window, I saw thē in most vnlawfull sort together on her bed, her mayden beeing sent of purpose a­way, to my great griefe, knowing well by the fauours you haue done that vnthankfull Andrugio.

Ieronimie could scarse forbear to heare his tale to end, so greeued at the heart was he at their speeches, but dis­sembling the same in the best sort he could, thanked them for their good wil, and bad them depart. Ieronimie iealous of what he had heard, could not be quiet, vntill he did know the effect of what they had tolde, and therfore determining with himselfe to see the euent of it, pretended to watch that night disguised, when hee came thither, and hee departed, supper ended, and euery man departing his way, Ieroni­mie awayted his time, and scarsly went out of the house, disguised in such sorce that hee that had knowne him well, might haue bene mistaken, secretly ambushing himselfe, to see Andrugio his comming.

Not long had he stayd, but Andrugio, with Elenora, as was their vse came togither, and entered the house, which whē he saw, blame him not tobe malecōtent, fearing by this vnhappie beginning, y^e euil euent of the rest yet vn­quiet as hee was, perswaded himselfe as well as he could, thinking, that being both there, no further matter at that time could happen, yet would hee see his returne, wayting thus two houres, and something more. Andrugio and the Ladie playing a game at ch [...]stes, which they were loth to giue ouer without victorie on the one side, Elenora hauing more hast then the rest, desired madam Melissina to lend her mayd to accompanie her, which she did, when Ieroni­mie saw this, think nowe Lordinges, how [...] intollerable it was to him, albeit no defartes of either part, but wrong [Page] suppositions of an enuious person? Ieronimie seeing this, might no longer forbeare their presence, but with speed en­tered the house and entering the chamber wher they plaid: (checke) quoth Andrugio to the Ladie, which Ieronimie hearing, answered, I vulaine, and that checke shall cost thy life, miscreant and vngratefull vislaine as thou art, tell mee for which good fauour y^t I haue done thee, hast thou sought the confusion of me and mine? I will not now stand to rea­son the cause with thee, but goe with me. As for thee [...]ewde Da [...]e, that hast yeelded thy body as a companion to this rascal, I wil take such order as thy hot desies shal bee made coole inough. Thus furiously hailing Andrugio out of the chamber, he departed, commiting him to the custody of the Goaler, where bewailing this suddaine chance, not know­ing any cause why, we leaue him.

Maddam melissina whome the griefe of this had ouer­whelmed, was so surprised with the same, that she fel into a trance, in which extremity, her maiden which went with E­lenora returning found her, wondring at this suddain alte­ration, but left her not without calling help, and with al pos­sible means sought to bring her to life: but in vain they striue, for she hath paid her due to death, whom al the labour they might vse preuailed not to call againe. When they saw no remedy, the maide presently dispatched a messenger to Iero­nymy, enforming him what was happened. But carelesse, he thinking it had bene some pollicie of the Lady to drawe him thether, that by intreatie shee might craue grace at his hands for her friend, would not giue credite to it: But rewar­ding the messenger with bitter words, rested all night as he might. In the morning early pretending to let his sister know his mind, and how hardly he brooked her lasciuious life, which she spent in formcation with Andrugio, he repa­red to her chamber, wher entring the same, he saw y^e breath lesse tronke of the Lady lieng on the rushes, and her maide with others in teares bitterly bewailing the vntimely death of her, whom for her curtesie they loued deerely.

[Page] This sight of Ieronymie, was litle pleasing, at which maugre his heart he could not refrain the shedding of tears but standing mute a long time, as one in a trance, on the suddaine comming to himselfe, he inquyred the cause of her death, and how it came to passe, whereof none in the com­panie could aduertise him, wherefore accusing his owne fol­lies and light beleefe, hee supposed that his bytter wordes, vsed in disgrace and slander of her honest life to be the caus [...] thereof. But dissembling his griefe he presently departed to his owne house, and sending for those two Gentlemen which had made the complaint vnto him of his sister and Andrugio, taking them into his chamber, as if he had in secrete to impart vnto them, he stabbed them both, to the end they should not in like sort, as they had to him acquaint others with the slander of his sister and Andrugio.

Taking order for Madam Melissina her buriall accor­ding to her estate, he kept his chamber long time, and would not be seene or spoken to of any body whatsoeuer: in the midst of these sorrowes, he often thought of Andrugio, who lay in most pitifull miserie, almost starued for want of foode by his owne command: which when hee considered, dreading the punishment of God for his light beleefe, and massacring those he had slaine, besides his sisters death, more neere vnto him then all the rest, he commaunded An­drugio to be dispossest from all the substance he had, and to bee clothed in such base apparell as he found him in, beeing prisoner in the Turkes Gallies, and sent him into frees­land to a friend of his, a Nobleman, whome in his letters he earnestly desired to inflict some grieuous torment vppon Andrugio.

This Noble man not knowing any cause, but at Ieronymie his request, kept him as a drudge in his kitchin to doo his slauerie, and for all kind of cariage for the prouision of his house, he made him to drawe home like a horse vppon fleids, shooing him of purpose in wooden shooes with long calkes of yron, for slyding on the yse: in this miserie liued [Page] Andrugio the tearme of two yeares, with greate penurie still accusing Fortune, that would not as wel commaund his life to be taken from him, and so end his calamities, as to aggrauate his paines, dayly to inflict new punishmentes on him, too much for a man to indure, and enough for a beast. Traueiling thus with his [...]leids from place to place, there chaunced a countrie man of his, a traueiler, wanting in the towne where Andrugio was a common [...]leid which ca­ried passengers, he requested Andrugio (whom hee vnder­derstood dwelled within a mile or two where his businesse lay) that he might passe with him. Andrugio vnderstan­standing by his speech, that he either was of Saxonie, or neere there bordering, tooke him in, and curteously enter­tained him: and passing on their iourney, enquired from whence he was, who answered he was of Saxonie. This word began to renue a liuely collour in the face of miserable Andrugio, who thought now to heare the certaine newes how all things did stand, of the health of his father the duke: wherefore he began as a straunger that did know little, to enquire of the gouernment of the country, which the stran­ger curteously tolde him, adding withall the death of the Duke, with their sorrowe for the losse of so noble a Prince. These wordes caused Andrugio to shead teares most pite­ously, which was noted of his passenger, which demaunded the cause of his suddaine heauines. Andrugio excusing the matter, said that he could not choose but lament their losse, who shoulde want so good a Iusticer as hee reported that Duke to be: demaunded further, if hee left no children be­hind him to succeede him, and how the countrie was gouer­ned? My friend (quoth the Saxon) but that griefe will not permit me to discours it, I could tel thee as lamētable a historie as euer thy eares haue heard, but answering thy demandes, I beseech thee of friendship to pardon mee the rest. Trueth is (my friend) our Duke hauing one sonne of wit pregnan [...], in learning forward, and of personage for his time peerelesse: This yoong prince in wofull time we may [Page] all say that liue in this grieued countrie of Saxonie, desi­rous to learne knowledge, craued licence to study at the V­niuersitie of Siena whether he had leaue to goe, accompa­nied with diuers yoong Nobles of our country, and Gen­tlemen of great name, who most vntimely lost their liues, as they traueiled thorow Germany, and he only left aliue, & yet in great danger: but recouering his health he departed to Siena, and from thence no man knoweth whether, nor none can tell whether he liue or no, yet hath there bene great inquirie made for him in many countries. His Dukedome in his absence is gouerned by sixe lordes of the countrie in very good order: vnto whome not long since, there came a braue Gallant from the Vniuersitie of Siena to enquire of the good health of our Dukes sonne, named Andrugio, for that as the report showeth, they were bedfellowes and sworne friendes in Siena. But when he found not my Lord Andrugio, and was truely aduertised that they had not seene him since his being at Siena, with great griefe he la­mented his absence, and vowed neuer to leaue trauell vntill hee found him, or had some certaine newes of him: so leauing his name, which (as I can remember) was Galastio, sonne vnto the Duke of millaine, hee departed to the great sor­row of our Nobles, who perswaded him earnestly to leaue the hazard of so bad a match.

Andrugio who had with no litle grief harkened to this, could not forbeare the shedding of teares most aboundant­lie, which the traueiler pitied to se, least doubting that which afterwards happened.

Andrugio with much a doo drieng vp the conduites of his weeping eies, vnto the talke of the traueiler thus an­swered.

Then good my friend (quoth hee) if your dwelling bee within the Dukedome of Saxonie, as you make report, tell me I beseech you how you came by the knowledge of this that you haue made relation, & I wil requite you if I may.

Yea, quoth the traueiler, I was borne in [...]he Dukedome [Page] and from my childbyrth brought vp y^e citie where the Duke kept his court. What I say is full well knowen vnto mee, My father a Gentleman of his Graces retinue while he li­uen, whome I haue daily seene with teares to bewaile the death of this good Duke, and with no litle sorrow, lament his sonnes absence. Tell me then friend, how if it shoulde be thy chance to meet the dukes sonne, what fauour wouldst thou doe him: if his want were great, couldst thou anie way relieue him, or in what sorce wouldest thou deale with hym. Sir (quoth hee) if my hope were suche to finde him, I were the happiest creature of my whole pro­genie, and so shoulde repute my selfe, and great fauour should I gaine in my country if I might but bring certain newes of his life or death, to whome I would willingly as my dutie and leache Lord, impart what I haue or can by my acquaintance, marchantes of our owne countrie take vp to relieue him, whome I trust, needeth not my helpe, if he liue.

The dukes sonne may thinke himselfe bound to you quoth Andrugio, if he did but know your loue to him, and if he be a gentleman, he cannot but requite it. That Andru­gio, by talke had knowledge of the man, yet not resolued, whether to make himselfe knowne vnto his countriman, to heare the sorrowe of the Lordes for his absence, and what griefe his whole countrey indured for him: besides his double sorrowe for the decease of his noble father studying this what to doe, hee refolued that it was the pleasure of God, so formnately to giue him knowledge of the state of his countrie, and therefore not against the pleasure of God to refuse so good opportunitie, least he that sendeth all hap­pinesse displeased at his follies, shoulde augment his pu­nishmentes. wherefore resolued (he saith) Lorenzo (for so was he called) since I see the loue thou barest the duke in his life, as thy report, to his houre after deathe, sheweth, I were vngratefull, if I shoulde not requite thee with some friendship. Therefore my good Lorenzo, know that thou [Page] art the man y^t shalt glad the heartes of them thou sayst doo mourne, by bringing them certaine tidinges of Lord An­drugio their yoong Prince, whome I can assure thee, li­ueth but in great pouertie, farre vn [...]tting his estate. wher­fore if thou canst procure to furnishe him with prouision of apparell and money for his charges, I can and will bring thee to his presence, let me know therefore thy minde for our iournie beginneth to shorten, and I must leaue thee. Lorenzo hearing the name of him whome he had thought neuer to haue seene more, began to note the man more and more, but so much was he altered in countenance, with the sunne, and weather beating at sea, that he coulde not knowe him, wherefore Lorenzo besought him of that zeale that Christians owe one to another, not to hide himselfe anie longer, if he were the man as he did suppose he was, to let him knowe it, that he might doe him that dutie as to hys dread Lord, or if not himself, not to depart vntil he brought him vnto Lord Andrugio his presence, that if his pouertie be such as you report, Lorēzo may relieue it, and shew the zeale, he oweth vnto the noble Andrugio.

Andrugio, being assured by this of Lorenzo his zeale could forbeare no longer, but with teares running lyke streams, wringing Lorenzo by y^e hand, sayd, Lorenzo, my olde acquainted friend and companion Lorenzo, how may my heart reioyce to heare thy loue to him whom thou ne­uer hadst no cause to thinke on? but since I knewe it by proof, and see what dutie thou didst owe the duke deceased, albeit I may be ashamed to manifest that I cannot conceale from thee. Know this Lorenzo, I a [...] that Andrugio, Sonne and Heire to the noble Duke of Saxonie, who by the crueltie of fortune haue neuer liued since my go­ing to Siena but in great miserie, and neuer was it my chance in my trauels, which hath not bene small, to mee [...]e with anie of my acquaintance. But seeing God hath caused thee to be the first, and only man: let me know Lorenzo, thy counsell what is best to be done, thou seest the life I [Page] lead is slauishe and moste odious, suche as my heart hardly broketh, yet can I not eschew it in any sort. If I should fue, he, to whome I am thus inthralled, would pursue me: if I refuse this wherein I haue some libertie, then might it be worse for me, nor how to discharge my selfe from it, I can­not deuise: if I acquaint him with my estate, then may [...] be, that he will inflict some great sommes of monie on me, for my ransome, so that I am now in such an agon [...]e, tha [...] I know not what shal become of me. Desirous I am to see my natiue countrie and friendes, and to comfort these my louing subiectes, which sorrow for my absence: if thou lend ayde to my desire, let me knowe therefore thy aduise Lo­renzo, and assure thee, that the good thou affoordest me in this extremetie, shalbe repayd thee with many thankes.

Lorenzo shed teares aboundant, to heare his tale, yet was his heart surprised so with ioy, that hee coulde not speake, but passing it ouer as he might, kneeling on hys knees, humbly kissed his hand, giuing God thankes, for blessing him with so good fortune, as to be the first that should bring the tidinges of comfort to his countrie, prote­sting withal, his purse, yea life & all, was at his commande­ment: & my good Lord, (quoth he) touching your depar­ture, if you will be ruled by my aduise, we will return to the place from whence we came, where I haue some friends & acquaintance of our countrie, with whome I will deale, for monie and necessaries, befitting your Lordship, your selfe shall rest as secret as you may, vntill the spring our ships may be free, when with the first we will depart. This coun­sell liked Andrugio well, and without deniall returned to the place from whence they came, which ere they might re­couer, was late in the night. Lorenzo being well acquain­ted in his lodging, called them vp with diuers of his coun­trimen, to whome he declared what had happened, who were as ioyfull of this good newes as Lorenzo.

Thus remained Prince Andrugio, amongest hys friendly countriemen, honoured with all titles of maiestie [Page] beseeming his estate, but verie secret, nor neuer disclosed, what hee was but amongest themselues, for whome Lo­renzo was not a little careful to prouide all thinges for his honor, that he might with maiestie, beseeming a prince re­turne to his countrie.

All thinges prouided for this his happie iournie, the spring nowe appearing, where the frosen alpes began to disclose, and the splendant beames of the sunne shewed in moste glorie, Their prouision beeing all readie to clappe a boord, they attend but his pleasure that hathe wrought all thinges else for their content, to send them a happie gale: whiche luckely comming as they expected, they were with the first readie to set saile, bidding Freesland farewel, their gallant Barke fleesed the waues, with a prosperous and happie gale, to the ending of euerie one of their wi­shes, and accomplishing Andrugio his desire. Time, and short time, hath brought them to the port of their desire, when they had no sooner anchored, but Lorenzo sent by Andrugio, hastined to see his aged father, and withall to will him in all haste to repayre vnto him, to participate in counsell, what he were best to doe, either sodenly to make his arriuall knowne, or to conceale it for a time, but scarsly had Lorenzo his father blessed him, & giuen his welcome, when blab-like he reuealed vnto his father Andrugio his comming, who as ioyfull to heare it, as the other was in recounting it, presently spred it throughout the citie, and to the gouernours of the state, who presently vpon the re­port, addressed themselues withall the honour they could to receaue him, commanding the belles to be roong, and sol­lome prayses with reioysing fires, throughout the Citie in signe of ioy.

Andrugio expecting long the returne of Lorenzo, loo­king earnestly for him, on the sodaine heard all the belles to ring, which made him admire woonderfully: in the end hee might beholde the shoare filled with multitudes of people, and the numbers to increase, by which he imagined, there [Page] was some thing in hand. Thus standing in dumpes, there came from the shore all the Nobles of his countrie to giue him welcome and to bring him to land, wher with great ioy of his subiects he was intertained in such sort, as might haue caused the mightiest Emperour to haue thought well of his people, and to giue them thankes. In great pompe rides Andrugio to his pallace with ioifull hearts receiued of his subiectes, who to shew their loues, with triumphes, masking, and other pastimes, during one whole we [...]k spent their times.

The solemne welcome was not finished, when the lords and states of the countrie that had the gouernment, in open assembly deliuered their authoritie in most reuerent and du­tiful maner, acknowledging him to be the right and lawful heir of their deceised duke, desiring him y^t guideth the harts of all princes, to make him as fortunate in his actions as his father.

Andrugio setled thus in his Dukedome, gouerned with great wisedom, vsing iustice to all, with his nobles familiar, and to his commons curteous, wronging no man, but relee­uing all that were comfortles, to the prisoners and men in bondage, he had a speciall regard, measuring their miseries by his owne calamities, hauing ben as they are. To recount all his honors, would fil large volumes, and grow tedious to the hearer onlie let this suffice, he liued the tearmes of two yeares and more vnmaried, beloued of all within his duke­dome so generally, that they delighted in nothing so much, as in lauding & extolling his honorable actions in such wise that other countries gaue him the like honor as his owne people: passing the flouring prime of his youth, the Nobles of his country hauing care of the state, offered many greate mariages, but al to no purpose: with thankes he returned all their friendship, accepting none. The old sinders of affecti­ons which lay raked vp in his heart, began now againe to burne, so that day nor night was spent without great care taking how he might accomplish his desire, & inioy Susania [Page] to his wife, yet for that she was so base, and fearing his n [...] bles would be offended, to know her calling, & refusing their offers, was in great perplexitie, not dating to disclose it to his dearest friend and most familiar. But Cupid geuing spur to his desires, could not let him rest vntill hee sought some meane for his quiet. Casting many waies in his per­plexed mind, how to giue his heart ease, and his desire end, determineth to prooue the faithfulnesse of Lorenzo, whom he had aduanced to honor, for this fauour showed: wherfore finding opportunitie, he brake with him after this manner.

Lorenzo, how much I doo reckon my selfe beholding vnto thee I will not say, by whose means and good fortune in meeting thee I am the sooner setled in my Dukedome, a friendship which shall neuer be forgotten so long as An­drugio liueth. But Lorenzo as thy faith hath bene firme vnto me, and thy readinesse as great to doo me this good, so am I the bolder to make choise of thee aboue al I know to impart a matter of more waight, and toucheth me nerer then the losse of my Dukedom, in which if I find thy readi­nesse and secrecie according to my wish, thou bindest An­drugio by an euerlasting band of inuiolable friendship to rest thine. Speake therefore Lorenzo, if I shall repose this trust and confidence in thee according as I doo de­sire, then solemnely sweare the concealing of the same, and thy speedy furtherance.

Lorenzo as one desiring nothing more then the princes fauour and to augment his good opinion of him rather thē to decrase it any way, protested vnto hun by the faith of a loyall subiect, that rather would he iudure all the torments that might be deuised, then disclose any thing he was char­ged to conceale, to any one, but such as he was commaun­ded.

Andrugio seeing by his earnest lookes, that he meante faith, interrupted his speech: saying, enough Lorenzo, I ac­cept thy word, therefore hearken to what I haue to say vn­to thee.

[Page] Thou hast heard me already recount the hard begin­ning of my vnfortunate iourny to Siena, with losse of my friēdly companions, what time my selfe hardly escaped with life: wounded thus I was cured by the handes of a simple countrie woman, who entartained me well, of whom I wan­ted nothing necessarie for my releefe. During this my time of sicknes, I was attended on by my friendly Os [...]es daugh­ter, a maiden with all perfections of a woman so indowed, that it is hard to finde her equall. This maiden for her womanish behauiour, her wisdome and good conditions, be­sides her beautie which exceeded, so pleased my minde, that she wonne my affections to be hers: yea so did I in hearte craue her for my wife, before all that euer I sawe, that I took no pleasure but in her companie, to parlie with her, and to heare the sweete soule recount such olde tales as shee had learned of her ancient father and mother. To this may­den (Lorenzo) I plighted my faith to liue with her as my wife, and she the like to me, as to her husband, the which vow, I neither can nor may forget. Wherefore (Lorenzo) being now opprest with the remembrance of the same, I cannot be quiet day nor night vntil I enioy her presence, and be linked in mariage to her whom I esteeme deerer then my life. Now Lorenzo my wil is, that in the secretest ma­ner thou maist, thou prouide thy selfe with such sommes of money necessarie for this iourney, and accompanied with thy trustiest seruants, speede thee vnto my beloued, and in my name greete her from me, and deliuer this peece of ring for a token which she gaue me at our departure: by vertue of which commaund her to come to me with all speede, A signe to giue true testimonie from whome thou comest, and intreat her Lorenzo as the wife of thy Lord. See thou apparell her as beseemeth my wife, before she approch the confines of our Dukedome. This businesse committed vn­to thee, perfourme as faithfully as my hope is in thee, and bind Andrugio for euer to be Lorenzos. Thou know­est my mind, my Treasurer shall furnish thy iourney with [Page] treasure, to whom thou shalt haue my warrant, make speed therefore as thou tenderest his life that holdeth thee deere.

Lorenzo hauing heard his long discourse, humbly than­ked his Grace for the good opinion he had conceiued of him protesting that his loyaltie and dutie should in such sort bee employed, as he might iustly say at his returne, Lorenzo is faithfull, honest, and firm, whereof my gratious Lord (quoth he) haue no farther care, but according to your trust, all shall be perfourmed, as your heart shall wish or desire.

Lorenzo sleeped litle time, but hauing made his proui­sion, departed the citie and iornied day and night, vntill hee came to the deserts of Gusqueno, where the beloued of his Lord made her abode: to whome Andrugio his messenger came not before he was looked for, nor so soone by many yeares, for that she neuer heard of him since his going first to Siena, by reason of his troubles. Lorenzo hauing reco­uered y^e Millers house, enquired after the maiden, to whose presence being come, in reuerēt maner (more then she would or wished) doing his duetie, he recounteth vnto her Andru­gio his message, declaring that it was his pleasure that presently she come vnto him, for that the time was nowe come that all thinges to her content and his desire should be per­fourmed.

Susania when her hope was all past, euer to see or heare of him againe, hauing bene absent so long, and neuer coulde heare any tydings of him, neither in his owne countrie, nor at Siena, whether he iornied from her fathers house, thought verily he had bene dead, wherefore on the suddaine could not tell what to say yet viewing the peece of ring, which she did well know, she imagined that he was liuing, wherfore after diuers questions, demanded of Andrugio his successe in his absence both abroad and at home, answered, what you are I know not, wherefore I beseech you of pardon, if vnreue­rently I vse you, or not as beseemeth your calling, my bringing vp is rustick as you see in this poore cottage, and your self a meere stranger vnto me. Touching my Lords demand [Page] I know not what to say, being not at myne owne disposing, but to be gouerned by them of whom I receiued my being: as I haue euer by them bene ruled, so wil I of them be ad­uised, yet my Lords loue is deere vnto me, yea dearer then mine owne soule. Rest you I beseeche you sir this night with such homely viandes as this wildernesse affoordeth, welcome I assure you shall be your best cheare, and at my Fathers home-comming you shall know more.

Lorenzo wearied with trauaile, accepteth her offer, yeelding thanks for that fauour.

Susania descanning on Lorenzo his message, imagineth whether her heart was ioyful or no, hauing so good a cause, and her hope so great to come from a Millers cottage to a princes, & liue in court honoured of Nobles. This happy tydings could Susania with much paine indure to conceale any time, wherefore shee dispatcheth a messenger in all hast to seek her father and mother, vnto whom being come, shee recounteth at large Andrugio his message deliuered by Lorenzo, with his happie successe, and attayning vnto hys dukedome, with all beseeching her father and mother, as they loued and tendered the preferment of their childe, not to gainsay the will of the noble Andrugio, for that their loues had bene equall, & fortune had done them both wrong to separat them so long, seeing it stood with the pleasure of God, after many daies of trouble to her louing Lord, and no little sorrow to her selfe, that they might inioy ech other, his francke consent, with her mothers, might be granted.

Thus with ioy, the toonge faltering in hir mouth, shee could not vtter a word more, which the father perceiuing, beganne to censure the cause, proceeded of great ioye and entering into iudgement of all causes, which might be preiudiciall to his childe, as also the desire he had to see her well bestowed, the old beldam his wife casting their heads togither, in priuie counsell, betwixt them it was agreed that she should goe, although nature would hardly brooke to for­goe her, especially so farre, that all thinges considered, and [Page] that their faith was plighted one to another, they woulde not be denied, wherefore at supper Lorenzo being placed at such homely viandes, as could be sodainly prepared, the aged father said, Gentleman of Saxonie, if my Andrugio, your Duke were present, he could be but welcome, and so he hath bene to this simple cottage, so assure your selfe you be, and thankes I yeeld you with my heart for this paynes taken for the benefite of my poore childe, for whome with­out b [...]ast I may with teares report, I haue and euer had a fathers care. Many a good yeomanly sonne, yea, and sonnes of gentle race, hath shee forsaken, proffering their loue with large dowries vnto her. But since the time of your Dukes lodging in my house, she neuer had anie minde of mariage, taking lesse pleasure in hearing of any such offer then in ought else might be spoken: my selfe coulde neuer tell the cause, but that my wife her mother did partly vn­derstand somewhat of her mind, being heauy, sad, & diuers times sickely. when other youth spent their times in plea­sure and sporting, to recreate themselues, she would wayle and lament in such sorte, as it hath not a little greeued me to behold. But (my Lord) what was concealed then, I part­ly gesse at now, it was loue I see, the loue of my Lord An­drugio, who by what meanes I know not hath obtayned her heart and faithfull liking, and since I heare by the re­port of my daughter, howe constant hee remaineth in hys choyse, not respecting her base birth, and that I holde it the wil of God, after manie perils, they should inioy ech others companie, I am content she shalbe at his graces obedience and my selfe with what I haue at his commaundement, praying God to make them in loue so happie, as the for­tunatest that euer liued. And this by the way my good Lord, since it hath pleased him amongest manie others to make you the man should take charge of my childe, and to bring her to his presence, I doe herewithall beseeche thee as thou art noble, and bound to defend virgins to the vtter­most of thy power, to be ayding vnto her, not suffering her [Page] to be iniuried in what thou mayest remedie, I knowe her aduancement shall haue manie enemies, who spiting that she from so base birth shuld be so exalted, wil enuy her hap­pinesse, and be a meane to set discord betwixt the duke and her, by which meanes she may be scorned, & cast from hys presence, and so constrained to seeke her fortune in miserie. wherefore to preuent insuing euils, as thou tenderest the loue of thy princely Lord, that sent thee, sweare vnto me, by that order of nobilitie, which thou professest in all extreme­ties to be ayding vnto her, and in Gods name at your plea­sure, she shall accompanie you.

Lorenzo listening to the large discourse of this kinde father, noting the care he had for his childe, whome he t [...]n­derly loued, presuming on his Lordes constancie, vowed with solemne othes vnto him, that so long as euer it plea­sed the deuine deities, to preserue him with life, hee would stand and abide a father, and firme friend vnto her, and in al honest causes maintaine her iust quarrell against all men, yea if it were against the duke himselfe.

Time now is come when they must depart: wherefore these aged parentes might not forbeare the shedding of teares in moste aboundant wise, the sight whereof moued Lorenzo to great pitie, yet passing ouer the extremitie thereof, with a heauie heart, and countenance wanne for her departure, he saith, my louing daughter, how I haue nou­rished thee euer from thy birth, thou canst partly conceaue by my fauours shewed, since thou hadst reason to knowe good from euill, in hope to finde thee a comfort to thy mo­ther and me, nowe in the enclining of our dayes in the earth, which how neere they drawe, he that gaue vs breath best knoweth. But contrarie to my expectation, thou art now parting from vs, into a better place, where thou hast few friendes, and lesse acquaintance: wherefore it behoueth thee to haue the more regard to thy behauiour: for I tell thee my Susania, promotions haue manie enemies & fewe friendes the mightiest are hated when the poore liue secure­ly, wherefore as it is the pleasure of the highest, to make [Page] thee the best of thy kinne, haue these preceptes in minde, and doubtlesse thou shalt inioy thy estate in the lesse perill: Let not thy calling make thee proud nor disdainfull, but re­member alwaies from whence thou camest: if thou be humble, thy nobles in better sort will loue thee, but being ambitious, wil disdaine thee, & seeke thy destruction, Empe­rours and mightie potentates, thorowe ambition haue bene foyled, and thrust from their [...]eates of dignitie. Then let not this estate make thee proud, least it fare worse with thee. Be duetifull to thy Lord and husband: if hee loue thee, be thou kind to him: if he be froward, do not with crosse spee­ches moue him, for odious speeches will make thy honest behauiour lothsome vnto him: if he be impatient with anie, let thy industrie be to pacifie him, and for thine owne part, let not his speeches, spoken neuer so greatly in thy disgrace moue thee to choller, so shalt thou shew thy selfe wise. If he haue any imperfection, do not as common gossips do vpon their quaffing reueale it, for that is a moste odious fault, and it shal make thee a laughing stocke to others, and cause thy honestie to be attempted by ruffians, and such as would gladly see thy dishonour, for all honest women will feare that, which is commōly spoken of dishonest women. Brief­ly please thy Lord and husband in all thinges, but especially in such as draw neerest his inclination, loue him intirely a­boue all others, be patient and learne to winke at manie thinges he doth the prudent in thy houshold affaires, careful to bring vp thy children, fayre spoken, kinde and courteous to his nobles, and all others, plentiful in honourable works, a friend to the honest, and a verie enemie to light youthes, as thy leysure from thy Lord shall permit: spend thy tyme in reading learned sayinges of the wise, for by suche honest occupations women are withdrawn from other vnworthy exercises. Thus as a father haue I in my blunt maner, pre­scribed thee to gaine the loue of all men, and continue the good opinion of thy Lord. Time draweth on, and thy pro­tectour Lord Lorenzo attendeth thee, wherefore I will [Page] detaine thee no longer, but with my blessing commend you to the protection of him that best knoweth how to preserue thee, and so sweet daughter farewell.

Thus after kind teares spen [...] on either side for their departure, Lorenzo contenting bountifullie his host for his entertainment, they betake thēselues to their desired iorney. Duke Andrugio which had long expected to heare of his best beloued, is now certified by a messenger, that she with Lorenzo are within two daies iourny of the court: vppon which newes, he sommoneth his nobles and estates, com­manding them to be ready to accompanie him the next day, in the most sumtuous sort they migh, to giue entertainment vnto a stranger, comming from far to see him, y^t which was accordingly performed in such wise, as Andrugio by their diligence in fulfilling so sodainly his desire, thought himself most highly honoured by them. Thus all thinges perfour­med as his heart could wish, the next morning Andrugio with his train set forward to meete Susania at the house of Signior Anthony a knight of his court, where hee had appointed to meete her: vpon which iourney, as hee trauey­led, hee acquainted diuers of his chiefest Lordes with the pretence of his comming from the Court, & with what zeale he had honoured and loued that mayden, which they went to meete: beseeching them of that loue they did beare vnto him and his deceased father [...], to make account of his loue, and to do her that reuerence which belonged vnto the Lady and wife of their Duke, for that she was the obiect of his heart, and the onely one that should participate with him in loue.

The Nobles which harkened to his protestation so vn­suspected, began diuers waies to coniecture of the same, his friendes and trustie followers conceiuing the best: others whose loue was not so firme, as it pleased them: yet all alike to content him, gaue their willing consentes, that if hee had planted his liking, it were against reason & their othes of dutie and obedience, to gainsay what liked him. Therfore [Page] wishing vnto him much ioy of what his heart desired, they bad God prosper them both to their owne content.

Passing the way in parlie, they arriue at the house of Signiour Anthony, who glad to see his Lord and maister within his mansion, had prouided the cheare hee could come by, bidding him and his traine most friendly welcome. To tell you the exceeding ioy of those two Louers at their mee­ting were needlesse, but suppose how welcome the sight of any long desired thing is vnto you, so shall you easily gesse in what happie estate those louers thought themselues.

After some conference had betwixt the Duke and his be­loued, with the consent of their nobles, their mariage was determined, and presentlie in the house of Anthony was it constituted to both their contentes, and the liking of all such as loued him, who with a generall consent made out­ward apparance of their good consents.

This mariage performed, and some time spent in plea­sure, as tilting, masking, and other pastimes in honor of the wedding, the Duke with his new adopted Princesse than­king their friendly Host for their entertainment, bad him farewell, departing towards their owne pallace, wher they were of the citizens (wher he kept his court) most royallye receiued, each one crieng with a generall voice, God saue their Duke and Duchesse.

The tearme of two yeares and sometime more was pas­sed in exceeding ioyes betwene those kind Louers, in which time God sent thē two saire & goodly children, to wit, one some and one daughter to their great ioy, and reioycing of all the commons. But as the vertuous bee alwaies most subiect to the enuie of the worlde, so in time the fire of ha­tred which had bene long smochering in the bosomes of Gonsalo and Flodericus, two Nobles of Saxony began to breake foorth into hot burning flames, in such sort that ray­sing their tenants, kin, and followers, perswading them their intents were honorable, and for the benefite of their common wealth. Thus they assembled a great armie and [Page] encamped themselues within two small miles of the court, seeking by al the meanes they could to draw vnto them such as fauoured the Duke and his.

The newes of this rebellion brought vnto Court, the Duke marueiling much what should be the cause: present­ly to preuent insuing mischiefes, as well as for his own pre­seruation, dispatcheth with all speed postes for all his No­bles, commanding them with al the power they could make to repaire to y^e court. In y^e mean time himself prouideth (as he best could) for the safety of the city. Whē he had takē this course, being thereunto aduised by his friendes, hee dispat­cheth his chiefe Her aught at armes vnto those two rebelli­ous Nobles, commanding them to dislodge their armie, and to yeeld themselues to his mercie. But they whose stomackes were sharply bent to see his confusion, with stout tearins refuse his honorable message, and by his Her aught des [...]ed him: commanding most arrogantly the Herhaught to tell the Duke, that their pretence was to subuert the duke­dome and to driue with shame both the Duke and his beg­gerlike Compere from so honorable a place as the Duke­dome of Saxonie: adding further, that in the life time of his father their late Soueraigne, they were sworne to main­taine the estate and honorable reputation of the Dukes house, which he his sonne did not regard, but had by ioyning in mariage with a base Minion, ruinated his posteritie, and made their bloods innoble, refusing for her many of honour and great reputation which were offered him. Wherefore Her aught (quoth Flodericus) say thus vnto the Duke, that if he wil condescend vnto such demandes of our, as wee shall set downe, we shall accordingly submit our selues vnto him and acknowledge our duties: otherwise we are resolued to die in that cause which we haue taken vpon vs to maintain.

The Her aught hauing heard their answeres, certified the Duke of their intentes, wherewith hee was not a litle grieued: yet as one tendering carefully his Ladies loue and welfare, he still concealed the same from her, deter­mining [Page] rather to end his life, then part with his heartes de­sice: in such account held he the loue of his Lady, whose cur­teous behauiour was such, as gained the good liking of all his subiectes, from the best to the meanest, onely those two Nobles, of enuie that the Duke refused the daughter and heire of Gonsalo, sought his destruction.

To be briefe, so strong were those two Rebels, that they besieged the citie round about in such wise, y^t in short a time their victuals began to wax scarse, and no remedie, but ei­ther they must all starue, or trie their fortunes by the sword. The Duke thus resolued with his company, astying on him that in many miseries had bene his protector, yssued out on vnawares vpon his enemies and fought with them a sharpe and grieuous battell, in which many of his compa­nie miscaried, and hee compelled to flie, losing the field: at which time his enemies taking their aduantage, pursuing them that sled towards the citie, entered pell mell commit­ting great slaughters of his people, in the end being quietly possessed of the same, they sought for the Duke, who was not to be found. Wherefore to be reuenged on the Duches, they determined to put her to the sword, for whose life the common people with one generall voice made earnest inter­cession, at whose request she was preserued, but banished with her two Infants, commanded vpon paine of her life neuer to returne againe, within any part of the regiment of the Dukedome of Saxonie.

This cruell sentence pronounced against the Duchesse, caused a number, which dutifully honoured the Lady for her curteous conditions, to shed teares, & to be earnest Suters for her, but in vaine, for she must needs depart to seeke her fortune, where it best pleased the giuer of al good to guide her.

This wofull Lady banished in such wise as you heare, her onely companions were two wayting women, which for her loue exiled themselues, departed the Citie, so ouer­charged [Page] with sorrow, as might haue moued a heart harder then adamant, to haue pitted her: yet for her owne part con­tent to beare this yoke with patience, so that shee might be certified of her Lord the Duke, who hiding himselfe in the desartes, durst not be knowne or seene of anie one, but as fortune had parted them in extremitie, so God gaue them leaue to meete in their sorrowes, to comfort one the other. For loe, as he by chance was stragling, to gather roots and hearbes to relieue his hungrie stomacke, hauing no other sustenance, hee heard the pitifull lamentation of a woman, complayning her hard fortune, and bitterly weeping ouer her tender babes, beseeching God to shew that mercie vn­to a distressed wretche, in her aduersitie, to grant the duke to meete them.

Andrugio which with a woefull heart had listened to this sorrowfull plaint, knowing well the voyce of hys deare Ladie, was so ouercharged with griefe, y^t he could not well speake: but recouering his sences, he cryeth out on fortune which wrought his miseries, but more exclaymed against the fates and destinies, that had suffered him to escape with life, to see his Ladie and sweete babes to indure such extre­mitie. After he had long debated with himselfe, what was best to be done in such an exigent, he entered y^e place where his Ladie sate, rocking on her knee the sweete babe, which was a daughter: whose face, when the good Ladie beheld howe ioyfull shee was I neede not relate, onely this let me tell you, his presence exiled from her heart the greatest griefe. After this ioyfull meeting, and that they had re­compted one to the other, their mishaps, Andrugio as one carefull for his Ladie and infantes, more then for himselfe, bethought manie waies of one especiall, by which they might haue comfort: calling to minde his friend and com­panion, Galastino now duke of Millaine, he determineth not to rest in anie place vntill he could recouer his countrie. And thus setting his mind throughlie so to doe, he with his Lady and two children, with the two waiting Gentlewo­men, [Page] with all speede they might, repaired to the next port towne, which was within three or foure leaguts of them, where they embarqued themselues, for Millaine, sel­ling such iewels as they had to pay their passage.

The winde seruing fitly for their purpose, within short time, they discouer the high landes of the countrie, & with­in small time after, the citie of Millaine, whether by the grace and helpe of Godthey came safely, and being in an euening lated, tooke their lodging in an o [...]rie, were they recreated thēselues, two or three dayes, one ioyning in the others companie, hoping of entertainement of the duke.

When Andrugio had reposed himselfe and that his heart was a little setled to quiet, beeing out of the danger of his owne countrey: taking fit opportunitie, when the Duke of Millaine with his nobles were pleasantly passing the time, in beholding the [...] of the [...] springing fieldes, Andrugio presented himselfe before him, yet not offering to speake vnto him, nor [...] he had aniething to say: but as one amongst other great [...], which came to set him, the duke casting his [...] all sides, to the people which reioyced in his presence. Among [...] the companie beholding a stranger, first noted his apparell, then the per­son, whiche by h [...]s face hée did verie well remember, yet doubtful whether it should be the same he supposed, for that he stoode so simple, not beseeming the estate of the duke of Saxonie: but his minde not being yet satisfied, whiche was continually on him, commanded one of the Peerces to seek him, describing his apparrell, and to inquire of what coun­trie he was, and to bring him vnto his presence, which ac­cordingly was accomplished.

When Andrugio came before the duke, and that by the noblemen hee was aduertised y^t the stranger was of Saxonie, the duke viewing well this face, knewe him to be the duke of Saxonie, and lighting from his horse, imbra­sed him most louingly, maruelling what had happened, that thus one beseeming the estate of his maiestie, he came vnto [Page] Millaine, vnto whome Andrugio, with teares in friendly wise [...] the miserie he was driuen vnto by his nobles with the [...]nishment of his Ladie and childrē, which ruth­full historie in such wise deliuered by Andrugio, his friend m [...]ed the duke to pit [...]e the distressed estate o [...] him and his, and with a heart of loue and bountie, bad him to comforte himselfe, and what was in the Dukedome of Millayne, to hold and take as his owne, protesting withall, that none in the worlde was more welcome vnto his countrey, then An­drugio the duke of Saxonie. Thus enquiring where the duches remained, he gaue present charge to diuers his no­bles, with his own coche to go to her lodging, & in the best and honourablest maner they might, to bring her to the court. This friendship of the dukes so vnexpected of An­drugio, so ouerioyed his oppressed heart, as with the same hee was almost ouercome: whereof hee thanked God most highly, and next, his maiesty beseeching God to main­taine the h [...]nor he had, with all happinesse, and free from the oppression of all foes whatsoeuer.

Andrugio setlcd in Millaine, where hee was welcome as to his owne home, coulde not content himselfe in this wise, but grieued in minde to see his miserie, more exclay­med on fortune, for this cruel part, then for all the sorrowes he had indured: so carefull was he, for his sweete children, y^t he did neyther quietly possesse sleepe, nor without trouble of minde eate his meate, wherefore entering into conside­ration of his present state, waying what he was by byrth, and what pleasure he had possessed, well considering what an vnstable goddesse they serue, which are fortunes dar­linges, growing into contempt of all worldly thinges, for that hee noted their frailtie, and diligently searching the ioyes of heauenly motions, determineth for euer to aban­don himselfe from all humaine societie, in despight of for­tune, and the vaine intising baytes of the world whiche he seeth is transitorie, he sequestreth himselfe from the world, onely contenting himselfe in contemplation. And thus ha­uing [Page] thorowly resolued what to doe, in an euening late, when all men draw homewards from their sollace, and pa­stimes abroad, to ioyes of their friends at home, Andrugio vnknown, or without acquainting anie man of his pretēce, withdrewe himselfe into a desart, twentie miles distant from Millaine, where fearing a place, which was by all likelihoodes, least frequented, he labored vntill he had buil­ded in the hollowe of a hard rocke, a proper lodge, where the remainder of his life he finished contented with rootes, hearbes and such prouision as the earth naturally yeelded: where when hee had spent some time, in continuall prayer, and heartes case, and saw the quiet content hee inioyed in that life, entering into the manifold miseries of all Christi­ans, he exclaimeth on that fickle goddeste fortune, in these bitter tearmes.

O fortune constant, in thy vnconstancie, if there be such a dame as phantasticall Poets affirme, whose blindnesse cannot discerne the noble from the pesantes, the Lord from the slaue, nor the seruant from the mayster: cruell art thou which takest thy pleasure in ouerthrowing monarchies and exalting the base, onely of presumption, to derogate to thy name, a title of Godhead. But what vaine opinions they hold, y^t tearme thee a goddesse, are easily to be perceaued, if they enter into it: for what can the seruant doe without sufferance of the maister, or what power hast thou, but by the sufferance of him that breaketh life into all his crea­tures? but fo [...]ish be they which haue by their supplications to thy blinde dietie, made thee more presumptious, where they ought to tread thy honour vnder foote: for what is for­tune, but a fayned deuise of mans spirite? an imagination without trueth? vpon which (as Plutarhe sayth) a man can­not settle his iudgement, nor cōprehend it, by any course of reason, so that by this we must confesse, that all thinges are ruled and guided by the prouidence of God, and not by blinde fortune: for when wee want the blessinges of God through his anger which wee cannot appease, then [Page] we accuse our ignorance, and ingratitude towardes his ma­maiesty, by the vnfortunate chance of humaine things falling through the common error of men. we attribute to fortune, As the Romans in elder tunes honored Fortune more then all the world, calling her the Nurse, Patrone and vpholder of the citie of Rome: they builded for her, many sumptuous Temples, wherein they honored this proude dame by many tytles.

Silla hauing obtained the Dictatorship, yelded him­selfe and al his actions to Fortune, sauing that he accounted himselfe the child of Fortune, and thereupon took vnto him the name of happie Iulius Caesar, gaue a certaine assurance of the hope he had in Fortune, when entering a small Fri­got in so dangerous a storme, that the Maister was loth to waigh his anchor: he said thus vnto him be not affraide my friend, for thou cariest Caesar and his Fortune.

Agustus sending his Nephew to the warres, wished him to be as valiant as Scypio, and as fortunate as himself. These and many other of great prowes and magnificence, forgetting the honor of the true God, attribute al to fortune, which is nothing. Ah deceitfull Fortune, thou art easilye found, but hardly auoided. They that haue most laboured to paint out this fained Goddes say, that she hath a swift pace, a loftie mind, and a quick hope: they giue her light winges, and a globe vnder her feete, in her hande a horne of aboun­dance, which she powreth foorth vpon such as pleaseth her. Some put a wheele in her hand, which continually turneth, whereby they that are on the top, tumble down into the gulf of miserie: as histories are full of examples. Haniball that liued flourishing conqueror, died miserablie by poison. Eu­mines one of Alexanders lieftenants, exalted to honour from a Potters some being taken prisoner, died of honger. Pertinex a souldiour came to the Empire being a poore womans sonne, wherein raigning two monethes was slain by his gard. The Emperour Probus was the sonne of a blacke smyth. Maximua of a Gardiner. Iohn Leyden a [Page] butchers sonne of Holland was proclaimed King, and raigned three yeares in great prosperite, and then subuerted. Lo this is y^e stedfastnes of fortune, desirous of change, whereby many are drawen by her sweete proffers to pride, and many vilde grieuous sinnes, to prouoke the Gods to wrath, who seeing their insolencie throw them downe soo­ner then they rise, of purpose to make their states more mi­serable: let vs therefore wisely waigh what Fortune is, and prepare our selues for all euents, for hee that is able to say, Fortune, I haue preuented thee, I haue stopped vp all thy passages, and closed vp all thy waies of enterance: that man putteth not his trust in Fortune, but ioyeth in the dis­courses of reason: riches, glorie, authoritie and honor reioise them most that stand least in feare of their contraries. wherfore in despite of Fortune vertue flourisheth. Then there is no good but vertue, and no euil but vice, which is the contra­ry to it. The vertuous man is only free and happy, the viti­ous man bond and vnhappie. Likewise beautie and the dis­position of the body, maiestie and honors are al of no force: But prudence, magnanimity, & iustice are anchors of grea­test stay, which cannot be plucked vp by any tempest, and prooueth the sayings of Socrates to bee true, that whole troupes of souldiours, and heaps of riches haue bene strai­ned often to yeeld to the enemies which haue trusted in for­tune, contemning the maiesty of God: For wise was that noble prince Amcharsis a Barbarian, who was so desirous to attaine vertue, that he left the kingdome of Silla to hys yoongest brother, and went into Graecia to profit with So­lon: saieng, that Fortune should neuer triumph ouer him, but he would triumph ouer Fortune. These examples (Andrugio,) may draw thee to vertue, and contemne the world, persist in thy dooing, respect not the worlde, nor take care for thy famylie, thy friend Galastino faithfull and kind to thee and thine, shall be to thy wife a husband, and a father to thy fatherlesse infantes: yea thou Galastino maist be in the world a mirrour, to giue directions of true friendship: [Page] for besides thy selfe there is not one on the whole earth: thou that showest thy mind by thy deedes: Thou prince of Mil­laine art the true friend that Socrates prescribeth to be the inestimable iewell of the world, not to bee valued by all the mortall things of the earth, which true friendship of thine maketh me happie in my vnhappines, and my distressed familie blessed, for whom I trust in time, thy sword shall make passage vnto the Dukedome of Saxonie, and there plant my sonne Alphonsus to succeede his Father in his right, yelding vnto those accursed traitors & their ofsprings the reward of traitors.

O friendly Galastino thou mirrour of men, whose wor­thinesse cannot be valued, for thy faith and loyaltie to thy friend. Many in prosperitie like the fawning dogs wil fol­low a man, but in aduersitie flie from him like the full gor­ges hawke. O world where is the faith and friendship that hath bene in times past amongst men, taken from men be­cause of their ingratitude to God. Hystories tell vs of ma­ny which liued, offering both life, landes, goodes and what els for their friends, signes of true fidelity, as Ionathan for Dauid, we reade in holy wryt of their ieopardy one for the other, how often theyr friendship was approoued bee­tweene them, neither could the desire of dignitie draw the affectionate loue & zeale of prince Ionathan from his Da­uid, albeit he knew that Dauid should succeed his father in the kingdome, he being his heir. So we reade of Achylles and patroclus, Orestes and pyllides, both of them calling themselues by the name of Orestes, who was content to dy to saue the life of his companion. The like was Ephenus and Eneritus, and Damon and pythias of whose friendly loue Dyonisius the tyrant seeing the prooffe, the one beeing ready to die for the other, pardoned them both.

This is the tryall of true friendes: how many liueth at this day like those: Ah none, the more may our harts grieue to think thereon. Ambition, couetonsnesse, pride, and hatred are so crept into the hearts of men, that they contemne God [Page] and his dooings, their fathers, kin and welwillers. How ma­ny men liue in these daies, that for a kingdome would not murder his prince, if he might do it without feare of death, which is a terrour to most men? How many men be there that for riches will not sticke to rob Temples, prophane the name of God, vse periurie, to the confounding of the honest and their posteritie? yea, to inioy what their owne fathers haue, seeke vntimely to cut of their liues that first gaue thē breath? We daily see in our courts of iustice the father con­tend with thr sonne, brother with brother, wife with hus­band, and al estates one with another cannot content them­selues with their callings: all proceede from ambition, which is nothing but a desire to inioy honours, estates and great places. Further, it is a vice of excesse, and contrary to mo­destie: for that man (as Aristotle saith) is modest, which desireth honor as he ought, and as becommeth him, but hee that desireth it by vnlawfull meanes is ambitious. Howe many treasons hath there bin by ambitious men conspired against their soueraignes? We read of Frederick the third who after hee had raigned thirtie yeares, was miserably murthered by Manfroy his bastard sonne, whom hee had made prince of Trantinum, and after he had committed this paracide, poysoned his owne brother Conradus y^t he might make himselfe king of Naples, Antonius & Geta successors in the Empire to Seuerus their father, could not suffer one the other to enioy so large a monarchy: for Anton. flue his brother Geta w^t a dagger y^t he might rule alone. Soliman king of y^e Turks, when he heard the showtes of his armie y^t they made for Sultan Mustipha his son, he caused him to be secretly strangled in his chamber: & presently (being dead) to be cast out before his army, causing this speach to be vtte­red with a loud voice, there was but one God in heauen, and one Sultan vpon earth: within two daies after he caused his second sonne Sultan Soba to die, for y^t he wept for his bro­ther and Sultan Mahomet his third sonne because he fled for feare, leauing but one of his race aliue to succeed him.

[Page] These are but the familiar examples of ambition in respect of those that cause men to put innocentes to deathe, that they may the surer grow and increase: but no doubt for the most part, iust punishment follow the ambitious, for exam­ple to others, whereof there are vnfaigned histories, which mention the same. Marcus Craessus, the richest man of his time, iealous of Caesars glorie, at the age of threescore yeares, lead with a vaine hope of conquest, vndertooke the warres against Arsaces, king of the Parthians, in which warres himselfe was miserably slame, with twenty thou­sand of his men, and ten thousand taken prisoners. Mar­cus Marlius was for the like occasion throwne downe from a rocke, and brake his necke. Oh that men would consider the fruits of ambition? who would then willingly offend? for as the wise man saith, (cōparing them to smoke dispersed with the wind) desire nothing more then to runne out their race in continuall cares, and miseries and calami­ties, depriuing themselues of all liberty, and which is worst, pawning their soules, to an eternall and moste miserable thraldome.

Thus let vs detest ambition whiche is an infinite euill, and companion of pride, so muche hated of God and men: let vs consider that wise precept whiche is written by the learned Tarian, to Plutarcke, I enuie (sayde this good Prince) Scipio Africanus, and Marcus Porcinus more for their contempt of offices, then for the victories they haue gotten, because a conquerour, is for the moste part in fortunes power, but the contempt of officers, and refusall of honours consisteth onely in preiudice: let vs marke well this one saying of Titus, who vsing continuall sithinges at meate and elswhere, being demanded the cause, said, I can­not keepe my selfe from sighing and complaining, when I call to minde, that this great honour which I haue, is not certaine but moueable, that my estates and dignities are in sequestration, and my life as it were layde in pawne or pledged vnto me. Let the saying of the good Philip, Prince [Page] of Macedonie, be well noted of great men, who one day fal­ling in a place where wrestling was exercised, beholding his bodie printed in the dust, good Lord (quoth he) how litle ground must we haue by nature, and yet we desire all the habitable world. Thus Andrugio, in thy sollitarie life, thou must (hauing nought els to do) call to minde what (in studie) thou hast read, and in the bitter griefe of thy heart bewayle them that liue in those daies of miquitie, and note how God suffereth all sortes of people to raygne, giuing triall by his aboundant giftes to all estates, some to rule, some to obey, some to wealth, some to want, some to sicke­nesse, and all to proue either their aspiring heartes, by pro­motions, or their patience by trouble, whereof thou An­drugio hast iust experience, whiche being yoong in respect of the aged, for yeares, hast continually tasted the rod of hys wrath: yet thankes to him that frameth my heart to beare with patience this crosse of pouertie, for in the ende shall it fall out with me the better: in this contented life, shall I be better pleased, then with al the aboundance of the world: for riches prouoke manie infirmities, which worldlings thinke not vppon, especially to the couetous minded, of whome Aristotle saith, the couetous man desireth to haue from all parts without reason, and vniustly withholdeth that which belongeth to another: he is sparing and scantiue in giuing, but excessiue in receauing: the couetous man is neuer con­tented, but the more he hath, y^e more desireth: the medicine golde, and siluer, which he seeketh increaseth his disease, as water doth the dropsie, and may most rightly be compared to mules, which carrie vpon their backes, great store of gold and treasure, yet eat nothing but hay. They indure la­bour in procuring, but want the pleasure of inioying: they inioy: neither rest nor libertie, whiche is of wise men moste desired, but liue alwaies like slaues to their riches. Their greatest miserie is, that to increase and keepe their wealth, they care neither for equitie nor iustice, yea, for riches they contemne both God and man, and all threatninges, and pu­nishmentes [Page] God hath pronounced against them, they liue without friendship and charitie, and lay hold on nothing but gaine, when they are placed in authoritie aboue others, they condemne the innocent, and finde alwaies some cleanly cloke to their bribing, making no difference, betwixt iustice and profite, wherefore we may well say, that couetousnesse is the roote of all euill, for what mischiefe is there not pro­cured through this vice, from whence springes quarrels, strifes, sutes, hatred and enuie, theftes, polling, sacking, warres, murders, and poysoninges, but from hence God is forgotten, our neighbours hated, yea manie times the sonne forgiueth not the father, nor the brother, the brother: nor the subiect the Lord, for desire of gaine (O execrable impietie to be well thought of amongest vs,) it causeth men to breake their faith giuen, to violate all friendship, to betray their countrie and subiects, to rebell against their Prince, but note how manie mischiefes couetousnesse hath attempted: Mulcasses king of thiues, had his eyes by hys owne sonne put out, that he might cease vppon his riches: Polimnestor, sonne to Priamus of Troy, slew his kinsman Polidorus, to gaine golde, for the which Queene Hecuba, comming vnto him, without anie shewe of discontentment, hauing him alone in a chamber, with the helpe of her wo­men, thrust out his eyes. The Emperour Caligula was so muche touched with couetousnesse, that there was no meane to get money, how vnlawfull soeuer it were, which he sought not out, insomuch that he layd a tribute vppon Ʋrine, and solde his sisters gownes, whome he had bani­shed, yet in one yeare of his raigne, he spent prodigally 67. millions of gold, which Tyberius his predecessour had ga­thered together, I call now to minde the remedie of a coue­tous cardinall, who vsed when his horsekeepers had giuen otes to his horses, to come downe all alone by a trap dore without light into the stable, and steale their otes, and car­ried them into his Garner, whereof hee kept the key him­selfe so long as he continued this goinges and comminges [Page] that one of his horsekeepers, not knowing who was the theefe, hid himself in the stable, and taking him at the deed doing, with a pitchforke, so basted him that he left hym for dead, so that he was faine to be carried by foure men into his chamber. These with manie other examples may moue vs to open the inward meaning of the heart, by true prayer to the giuer of all goodnesse, and learne with mode­stie the heaping vp of worldly treasures, for godlinesse with contentation is great gaine, and let all Christians procure that God may be worshipped, duetie and reuerence giuen to superiours, concord be amongest equalles, disci­pline to be vsed towards inferiours, patience towards ene­mies, mercie towardes the poore: but men puft with pride, ambition, couetousnesse and al vile sinnes, shew themselues ingratefull to God their maker, a vice odious in the sight of God and men: for note first, Adam hauing an vnthankefull mi [...]de to his creator, did eat the forbidden fruite contrary to his expresse commandement, to whome he owed all obedi­ence: thus as by his ingratitude he neglected his obedience to his Lord, so his punishment was according to the maner of his offence, for his owne spirites, which were before at his commandement, rebelled against him, and led him to all kinde of sinne, which maketh vs inheritours of hys curse, both of sinne and death, yet so dull is our vnderstan­ding, that dayly we fal into this crime of ingratitude, which we ought to hate in great measure, and to flie from it more then death it selfe, by reason of the euils whiche it hath brought vppon vs: but yet alas, wee see amongest vs too many vngrateful persons, who betraye them soonest by whome they receaue all their liuing and aduancement. And if vnthankfulnesse be familiar with the meaner sorte, let vs not thinke it farther off from those of higher calling, for vppon euerie light occasion, especially if a man frame not himselfe to that vice, which they haue in greatest com­mendation, they easily forget all the seruice that hath bene done vnto them, by reason of some new come guest, who [Page] will sh [...]we himself a seruiceable minister of their pleasures this hapneth sonest whē men grow in greatnes, because cō ­monly as their calling increase (not being instructed in ver­tue) they wax worse and worse in behauiour, but let them take this for an infallible rule, that an vnthankfull person cannot long retaine in his seruice an honest faithfull & good seruant. The ancient said not without good cause, that im­pudencie was the companion of ingratitude, for if no beast (as they say) is so shamelesse as an impudent, who is he that may be said to haue lesse shame thē an vnthankful body, for this cause of ingratitude. Among the sawes of Draco esta­blished among the Athenians, there was this, that if any man had receiued a benefit of his neighbor, & it were proo­ued against him, that he had not bene thankful for it, it was death to the offendor.

Alexander the greatest for bountie, and Caesar for par­doning iniuries renowmed in all the histories: of them both it is saide, that when Alexander had knowledge of an vn­thankfull person he neuer gaue him any thing: nor Caesar neuer forgaue such. So grieuously haue vertuous men ha­ted ingratitude. Yt is reported of the Storke that she neuer bringeth foorth yoong ones but shee casteth one out of the nest for the hier of the house where she lodgeth. But bar­barous is that ingratitude in him that hath bene borne, bred, fostered and serued, and all with the sweate of another mans browes in the end to seke the spoile of al that is ther­in, euen the honor, and oftimes the life of the Host. Won­derfull are the mischiefes that happen to the vnthankfull, & many be the examples of the sorrowes and punishents that haue followed ingratitude. Now if we desire to shunne this vile sinne, and to imitate the vertues of the noble min­ded to our vtmost power, this is our help if we alwaies e­steeme the benefit which we receiue of another greater then it is, & repute that we giue for lesse then the worth, neither let vs as proud and vaine glorious men doo, who vaunt that they stand in need of none, disdayn to receiue a pleasure of [Page] our friends, although they be of lesse calling then we, when they desire our friendship, for if it be an honest thing to doo good to all, that cannot be dishonest at all, for in requitall of friendship, a receiuer is as requisite as a giuer. Further­more, this one other poynt, to banish this vilde sinne from amongst men, if we requite double the good turne wee re­ceiue one of another. Lastlie let vs recompence double, and reward without reckoning those good turnes which we re­ceiue of others, rather fearing least we should be ouercome in Benificence then in worldly reputation and glory.

But wretched Andrugio, the more thou enterest into those grieuous calamities of the world, the more thou cal­lest to mind thy hard hap, and more, greeuest to thinke of thy sweete Susania, and her tender babes then of thine own penurie. But God which is iust, will with vengeance re­ward those traiterous reprobates which haue depriued their lawfull prince from his seat of iustice and maiestie, compel­ling him to seeke curtesie wher he may best get it, but worse shall befal them then that traiterous prince Iustinian, who selling for lucar of the kingdom the famous city of constan­tinople, was crowned there and after three daies had his head cut off. pasanias a Captaine of Lacedemon, hauing receiued fiue hundred duckets to betray the citie of Sparta, was by his father pursued to a church, whether he fled for sanctuarie, who commanded the walles to be closed, and so famished him, and afterwards his mother cast his body to the dogs. Brutus cassius that would haue betraied Rome was in the same maner serued. Darius king of Persia caused his sonne Aariabarzā his head to be cut off, because he sought to betray his army to Alexander. Brutus did the like to his ch [...]ldrē, who had conspired against their coun­trie, that king Tarquinius might reenter.

If those noble Princes rewarded treason, by the deaths of their children and most fauoured, then thinke not but your liues will be shortened for your conspiracie against me: yea, assure you that the righteous iudge of men wil punish [Page] it in you, as he hath done in many others. The remēbrance of your crimes, with the thoughtes of iust iudgment to bee inflicted vpon you, driueth my oppessed heart into a world of griefe: but if I had searched so narrowly into the thoughts of you (accursed Traitors) I had bene happy in this my vn­happines, but wise men haue taught mee that miserie is ne­cessarie.

That man (saith the wise man Bias) is able to beare mi­serie which hath bene trained in the same from his youth. And Dyonisius the elder said, that man that hath learned from his youth to be vnhappie, shal bear his yoke the better which hath ben subiect to it in times past.

Demetrius said, that he iudged none more vnhappy thē he which neuer tasted of aduersitie. And Cicero iudgeth him most happy that thinketh no miserie how grieuous soeuer it be, or intollerable, or dooth any way discourage him. No­thing (saith plutarch) is euill that is necessarie: by which word necessary, Cicero vnderstandeth whatsoeuer hapneth a man by destinie, is necessarie, and we ought to beare it with patience as that can not bee auoided. Socrates spea­king with a deuine spirit said, y^t when we shal be deliuered from this body wherein the soule is, as an oyster in y^t shel, we may then be happy, but not sooner: and that felicitie can not be obtained in this life, but that we must hope to enioy it perfectly in an other life. Yf death be the happines of men, how happie had I bene, if in my cradle I had paide the due I owe vnto death, the ioies which follow death, if our fraile nature could conceiue, and allow were such comfort to al as wel to the happy, as the miserable, that none would desire life: for my owne part hauing tried the happines of world­ly men, riches, of couetousnesse so called, and consider the frailtie of it, and the abuse of men, I chose in these deserts to abandon me from al humaine fellowship, costly fare & soft lodging, losing the company of my louing wife, & ten­der infants, liuing w^t such roots & other things as y^e earth yeeldeth, for y^t I haue seene y^e tyrannies vsed toward y^e poor [Page] such wilful robberies and spoiles made of miserable peo­ple, so great discentions, so many hurts and miseries in the common weale, such oppression, such partiall iudgement, such couetousnes, such whordome, and all sin so abounding: The bringing of which to memory, maketh mine ei [...]s blind, my tongue to folter, my members quauer, my heart pa [...]te my intrals breake, and my flesh consume: it is more griefe to see them with mine eies, and to heare them with mine eares. Therefore seing the fountaine of all happinesse con­sisteth in contentation, I will purge my selfe of all pertur­bations, which may hinder the tranquilitie of the spirit, to the end eternall thinges may bee vnto mee more welcome and familiar when I shal know how to vse them. But re­solued I am in despite of fortune (whose banding bal from my infancie I haue bene) to continue the remainder of my life in this sweete contentation: for as she (most blinde and fained Goddesse) hath taken my honors, my goods and worldly dignities may driue me in disgrace with the people, but she cannot make my honest mind [...], which hath alwaies bene noble and valiant, nor take from mee this set­led mind, neither by the tediousnes of my life, which is lot [...] ­some vnto me, nor by any grieuous or troublesome thinge that can befall me.

Thus with teares ceasing his mornful speeches, bewai­ling with heauinesse of heart the worldes ingratitude, wee leaue him to his solitary life for a season in those deserts.