The first Chapter.

IT hath béene sayde (courteous Gentle­men) in the first part of this Hystorie, that this most famous Prince, our home born Countriman, hauing finished with great solemnitie, his marriage, to the good content of himselfe, and more en­crease of ioy to his Ladie Valia, ma­king small stay, as desirous to see the ho­lie place where our Sauiour was aliue and dead, giuing the Thracian King most honourable thanks for their great inter­tainment, & honor done him and his Princes at their mariage, embarked first his Ladie in a small Sattia, which came from Marceelas, which of purpose he fraighted for Ceneto Vecha, committing the care of her, & her seruant Alinda, to the good regard of the Frier who married them. Which done, hauing well intreated the maister, marriners, and marchants, for their more fauour in their voyage, the winde blowing a fres [...] leuant, th [...]y weighed their Anchors, set saile, and betooke them­selues to the mercies of the raging Billowes.

What sorrowfull parting was betwéene them, I omit, leauing that to their iudgement, which on the like suddenn [...]sse, [Page] depart with their sweete loues. To recount vnto you the tra­uaile of our beloued Knight to the holy lande, of which hée had great care, hauing embarqued his Ladie with her fol­lowers, taking a most reuerend farewell of the King, the Queene, and the Princesse Argentino, with all the Péeres of their Countrey, who both honoured and loued him, hée betooke hims [...]lfe to trauaile, not vnlamented of all the Court, whose loue was so vnited vnto him, that it séemed theyr spi­rits to part with their bodi [...]s at his bidding farewell. But as all things must haue ende, so had the Knight made an ende of giuing the kinde Adieu to that Countrey: and onely accom­panied with his Page, well mounted, hée tooke his iourney first for Peloponensee, an auncient Cittie of Greece, which after many a wearie iourney, passing the dangerous moun­taines, and vncouth places vnhabited but of rauening and most ouglie beastes, he recouered that Citie of fame, where he had of the Viceroy most honourable entertainment, with all shewes of loue and kindnesse that hee could require: where resting himselfe after his wearie trauailes, we leaue him for a time, to recount vnto you the successe of the Princesse Vallia, in her iourney by sea.

CHAP. II.
How Argentino consorting with a Knight of her Coun­trey to make the Ladie Vallia away, who assailed her at Sea, and what chaunced her.

THe prince, whose loue Argentino, daugh­ter to the Thracian King by all meanes sought to obtaine, burned in such iealou­sie and hate, wanting her desire, that all her mind and studie was, by some death or other, to quite her of her ryuall, the louelie Ladie Vallia, thinking thereby to gaine the loue of her knight, which we [Page] more desired then the worldes goods, and sifting her womans wit, which was apt inough to manie diuelish deuises, and fin­ding none so perfect, which shée du [...]st to practise, flaming with reuenge to finish her intended euill, bethought her of a knight in her fathers Court, whose countenance and shewes of kind­nesse perswaded her, he intended some singular affection vn­to her. Of this knight, her thoughts assured her: wherefore, casting from her all regarde of honour, required in such of so highestéeme: she sent for the knight, commanding her messen­ger to hast him vnto her presence. In which, no time was delai­ed of either part. For the Messenger no sooner had deliuered the princes pleasure, but the knight whose affections was somwhat bent to her loue, as one new risē from a dreame, [...]mazed to be­hold such visions, as often in sléep appeareth, r [...]wsing himselfe, without any questions demaunding, hasteneth with such spéed as he could best vse, to her presence, whom with great fauour, and vnwonted courtesies, she kindly entertained, vsing manie pleasing spéeches, to inchaunt him to effect her diuelish will. Of all which, when he had with such kinde thankes requited her, and that shee felt the toole had taken some conceit of her lyking, cunningly to sée howe this potion would worke, shee sayeth:

Siegniur Gualintie, for that I haue noted the weake con­ditions of men, and sée by experience the small account they haue of their words, and faithfull promise, I dare not say what I would, wherefore, I am enforced to conceale in secret, that which to the death consumeth mée. And therefore withall, feigning a womanish kinde of heauinesse, powring forth a fewe dissembling teares, like the Crocadill, to effect her inten­ded euill, she ceaseth her speach. Gualintie which sawe these vnexpected motions, amazed thereat, could not suddenly con­ceiue what these motions might intend, yet ayming at her pas­sion, which he imagined was some discontent, he saith.

Honoured Princesse, what occasions your grace hath to carrie so hard opinions of mens constancie, it were too dé [...]e a matter for me to question, yet wold your good thoughts m [...]ght [Page] be such of your humble seruant, as I desire it should, and as my will is at your excellent hands to deserue, I doubt not then but my loyaltie should recouer those loose opinions you haue of mens constancie: for performance whereof, in all faythfull du­tie, I humbly offer the faith of a knight.

The Princesse Argentino, glad to find the Gentleman in so good a humor, was easily drawne to beléeue what he pro­mised. And therefore without standing on tearmes of light be­léefe, she sayde. Gentle knight, whose worde I hold so firme, as the surest bands, I accept your kinde proffer of courtesie, for which, by that true fayth which honour ought to maintaine, your performance shall bee so requited, as thou shalt euer bée honoured for the same, and thy posteritie. Therefore what I intend, I will nor can no longer conceale from thée.

Know (gentle knight) and with that a sigh drawing teares, restrained her dissembling spéech, so that she could not vtter what she had to say, yet putting off she proceedes: Let it bee knowne to thée, most honoured knight, those abuses offered me in our owne Court, by that disloyall and vniust knight of the holy Crosse, who making shewes of loue vnto mee, manie times courted me with his false intended suites, as well as by his flattering teares of no other intent, as I find now by iust proofe, but to dishonour me and my father: else after so manie protestations, vowes, and solemne oathes taken, his loyall af­fection to me was such, as no torment nor sorrow, nor no tur­moyle whatsoeuer, could remoue from his false and dissem­bling heart: he would not before my face in presence of my gra­cious father, and his most noble Péeres, haue conioyned him­selfe in marriage with a runnagate Damsell, a begger, a com­mon traueller, and therefore no better then a common courte­zan, by his disgrace, so disgracing mee, as the remembraunce thereof can neuer be rooted from my faithfull heart, nor neuer [...] my bodie take his naturall sustenance, vntill I be by some meanes or other, reuenged on him and her, that thus most per­iured hath shewed himselfe, the most vniustest knight of the world. And that minion, the which doubtlesse by some enchan­ted [Page] spelles hath woonne his loue from me, to her liking, which otherwise she could neuer haue done.

This (good knight quoth she,) my long protestations might wearie thee: but pardon my fault, and imagine how deare I holde thée, that amongst all the Knights of my fathers Court, haue made choyse of you, to participate with mee of my great heauinesse: for which, if thou canst but set downe a reuenge sufficient for them, but chiefly for that enchaunting sorceresse, and execute it by thine owne hande, I promise my selfe thine euerlastingly, or what other reward so euer thou shalt require. Gu [...]lintie, which felt by her spéeches, that gréefe she endured, was onely a longing to reuenge her of her loues riuall, a tor­ment which stingeth all women to the heart, hoping she would proue as firme as she proffered she would, and that in plea­sing her fancie, and reuenging her on the Ladie, hée shoulde gaine her loue, for so much by her insinuating spéech hée ga­thered, standing on no more poynts of hauing, but effecting her worde.

He vowed by that honour, which at her princely fathers hands he had receiued, neuer to take one quiet sléepe, vntill hée was for her on the Ladie throughly reuenged, and that with such rygour, as shee her selfe could not deuise so ill a torment. And so taking his leaue, humbly kissing her handes, he left her to her accustomed thoughts, spéeding to the Lantano of the ci­tie, or as we say the Admirall, who had charge of all the kings Gallies, Foysts, Brigandines, and Frigots, vnto whom, faig­ning a matter of seruice, hee had for the imployment of one chiefe Gallie, he compounded with him for her, and presently had her furnished, with vittailes, and all other néedfull things: which done, as one carefull of what he intended, he put to the Seas, and by his owne skill, knowing what course the Ladie kept for her port of Cenito Vecha, shaped the like to his mai­ster, rowing that night with all the force his poore slaues was able to make. In the morning the Sunne shewing his most glorious and splendent beames, and finding himselfe by his maisters reckoning to be well shotte from his owne coast. Af­ter [Page] some kinde shewes ofloue, and requitall to the master for his seruice and forwardesse in finishing his pretence, omit­ting the principall cause of following the shippe he sought, hee [...] offered him, by a Marchant in that companie of whom he so earnestly craued reuenge. The Maister which could well demeane himselfe, knowing the knight to be of great account, and beléeuing what he had sayd, promised his best furtherance for the same. And shifting his course for their more spéede, well waiting howe the wind had scanted vpon them, halled ouer for an Iland, where common­lie all men bound that way, accustomed to water. In which place by chaunce vnhappily they met them. The Lady and her wom [...]n beeing on the shore recreating themselues, and the men busied in getting water, wood, and such wants, aboord, sawe the Gallie which rowed mainely in for the place, who shewing their colours, by which they were knowne to bee of Thrace, there was no further doubt, they hauing the Kinges passe, and the league such betwéene the nations.

But the knight whose heart was bound to reuenge him on a guiltlesse Ladie, no sooner came to anchor in the road, but halling the ship, enquired for the Lady, who was then a shore, which hearing, he spéedeth vnto them, furnished with twentie of his best men well appoynted, which he thought to bee suffi­ent to supprise such naked people as hee supposed they were. No sooner was he on land, but with hollow heart, saluting the Frenchemen he met, vnto whomhe was well knowne, requi­ring spéeches with the Ladie, he was by those that honoured her for her fathers loue, as also for her noble husband, sim­ply conducted to the place, where the Frier, with all the Mar­chants were deuoutly on their knées at prayer, vnto whose O­risons this bloodie minded knight, as bad clearke, said Amen, long before it was time, without regard of honour or oath made for defence of Ladyes, rushing vpon them, layde vio­lent handes vppon her, and others on the rest of the Gentle­women, intending to haue carried her away perforce, which the Frenchmen séeing, loth to loose the Ladies good company, [Page] required th [...] knight to acquaint them with his intēt, in offring them that wrong, whose kindnes refusing, without returning any answere, with his sworde slue him that first spake, which caused the others, with such weapons as they had, to reueng [...] their companions death, so that betwéene them began a most cruell and grieuous fight: the Frenchmen fighting in the right of our English Caueliers Ladies, so valiantly behaued them­selues, that they slue the most part of those which came a shore: from whom recouering their weapons, it is not to be thought what exployts was done betwéene them. But in the ende all sorting out to the knights ouerthrow, who was in the fight slaine, with all his companie that stood with him in the action. Such as fled was by those y^t were busily imploied, séeing their friends so ill entreated, slain, so that none recouered to carri [...] tidings how they sped. The Frier in this broile being a man of peace, taking care of the Ladie and her companie, with­drew thē from their presence: & searching in feare some place o [...] safetie, from pursuit of the enemies, by chaunce lighted on the Cell of an Hermet, wherein they shrowded themselues.

The maister in the Gallie, noting their ill successe a shore, layd the ship aboord, rifled her o [...] what she had, and like a most cruell wretch, sunke her in the roade: which done, hoysing his sayles, hauing a winde faire for his port, hee made no longer stay, leauing the Ladie with her companie in a barraine vn­frequented Isle, hauing no reléefe at all of any thing, but such rootes and hearbes prouided for them by the aged Hermet, whose guestes they were. Nowe against their willes, with this. Hrmet wee leaue them a season, to attend their deuoti­ons, and a time of deliuerance, the Maister with the Gallie bound for his home, to shewe you what other fortunes befell the Knight of the Crosse.

CAHP. III.
How the Knight of the holie Crosse, after some small stay in Peloponenses, betooke him to his trauaile, with his fortunes.

EDward hauing reposed himselfe in this Citie, thinking the time long vntil hee sawe the ende of his desired iourney, ta­king leaue of the Viceroy, betooke him­selfe to his good fortunes. Two dayes trauailed hee throughout those desarts of Greece, onely accompanied with his Page, and a Currier which was his guide. The thirde day hee had sight of a mightie conuoy of Cammils, being at least sixe thousand, with their Marchants, which came from India, bound into Egypt. To those gouer­nours and Marchants he sent, requiring them of vittailes to relieue his store: his wine and oyle, by a casuall happe being lost, and no place of refuge néere to relicue it by a farre way: which the Marchants verie kindly graunted, furnishing his wants of what he required, and they could spare. With this companie he continued thrée daies, very pleasantly passing the time amongst them, of whose companie they were all right glad. The third day drawing towards the euening, as they be­gan to vnfurnish their Cammils, and to set vp their Tents, determining to lodge there all night, their espials descried a companie of armed people, well mounted, which sped them to­wards their companie, so hardly pursuing the scowts, that they had much a doo to escape. Of these people the Marchants had great doubt, and séemed to be verie much troubled in minde at these tidings: which the knight perceiuing, chéered them with such comfortable spéeches, as he could h [...]st vtter, and they vn­derstand: arming himselfe to withstand their forces, and pla­cing his companies with such weapons as they had to receiue [Page] them, which was scarcely finished, before sixe galland Caun­leres, with their staues charged come néere vnto them, and re­quired the marchants to deliuer those goods they had, for the vses of their king.

The Marchants, reposing themselues of this noble cham­pion, were driuen to a non plus, what to aunswer, but as men amazed, stoode gazing one the other in the face, whose timerous­nesse the knight perceiuing, dreading no colours, mounting himselfe with his staffe charged in the rest, singled himselfe, and putting forwarde, required those gallants to say what their businesse was. The Tartares perceiuing him to bee a knight at Armes, and they souldiours, answered.

Sir, what thou art we know not, but by thy seeming, if wée be not deceiued, thou art a man of Armes, whom we come not in any sort to molest. But for these base fugitiues, which haue wronged our King of his customes, due to be payde of all men passing his Countrey, we come to be satisfied, which we will haue, or leese our dearest liues in gaining thereof: therefore gentle sir, as we haue declared the truth of our comming, take no part with them, if thou louest thine owne welfare. The knight which heard their reasonable answeres, could not take any thing spoken in ill part, vntill he had examined the truth of the marchants, and whether there was any such custome due to their king as they required, which on there great oathes they denied, vowing vnto them by all solemne prote­stations they could vse, that there were none belonging to the King, but outlawes, and such as liued on the spoyles of tra­uailers, neither was there euer any custome required of anie prince in their time, some of them hauing vsed that passage ma­ny yeares before.

The good knight which was loath to wrong either part, could not tell what to answer, considering the guise of men, which is to make the best of their owne matters, called the chéefest mar­chants, for in them he had most trust, and examining strictlie each particular, of their abode, their cause of trauaile, and their place whither they were bounde, swore them to the truth of all [Page] what they had spoken, which donehe returned againe vnto the armed outlawes, which attended his answer, saying.

False villaines, and deceitfull wretches, how dare you, be­ing robbers and disturbers of peaceable trauailers, so much to abuse the reuerent name of your king, who is altogither vnac­quainted with your trecheries, as to make his authoritie a shel­ter for your bloodie mindes, and spoyling the goodes of honest men, that you haue abused both him and vs, you shall all well know. Therefore if your businesse be no other then I haue no­tize it is, depart, or you shall know, to your great sorrow, and hearts griefe, that you haue met with him which will not bee dared with your high lookes.

The Tartares hearing him speake so like himselfe, and with such resolution, could well haue forborne to deale with him, or his companie, yet setting their rest vpon the courage of their companie, which were all well appoynted, and better moun­ted, defied the knight, who taking all aduantages, seeing their resolution such, encouraging the Marchants, who were all fearefull of loosing what they had, began most honourably to assaile them whose power was as brauely resisted a long time: in this conflict was most honourable deedes of Armes by the noble knight done, who euer cheared his companies, which were all likely to runne away. So hote and fiercely continued this good knight this assault, that encountering hand to hand the principall leaders, he gaue them such payment, as they could not with all their skill finde fault with their paymai­ster: such order hée tooke with them, dealing dole to all their costs, that manie of them for feare fled the fielde, betaking them to places where they might beholde the woonderfull déeds of honour done by this most renowmed knight, which on all sides they so assayled, as he had no way to get out, but such passage as he made with his well tempered Curtelar, of whose mettall he made at that instant sufficient proofe, which those outlawes well felt. And p [...]rc [...]yuing their power too weake, to conquer where such a guider was, resolued no longer to abide in hope, but euerie one to make such meanes [Page] as he best could for his owne safetie, which the noble knight perceyuing, so hotlye pursued, that many Tartares soules hee sent to death: Others without armes, legges, and other limmes, lay weltering in theyr owne bloud, that it was lamentable to sée, such a Massacre amongest men, if they had beene such, as in men liuing in Princes obedience they should bée.

These Pessants thus flying, and the noble Edwarde wearied with pursute of them, night béeing at hande, so as it was not to bee discerned a friend from a foe, retur­ning againe vnto his companyes Tentes, in a Valley di­staunt from them a good Myle, hée was there at vna­wares set vppon by one of their leaders, which had esca­ped him in the battaile, who gathering together an hun­dreth of his straggling Consorts, knowing him to bée gone that way, encountered him, who béeing wearie of the toyle taking so lately, had like to haue put him to the foyle, béeing so at the aduauntage assayled. Yet hee whose heart neuer was séene to faynt, arming himselfe to defende, ca­sting his Shéelde on his arme, putting himselfe amongest the rowte of them, still crying Lancaster, God and Saint George for Englande, laying so about him, that some heades, some handes, and others in most pitifull wise cry­ing out, hee made way thorowe the thickest, so beha­uing himselfe, that euerie one that coulde make shift for one, was willing to giue him rowme, and to bée gone. Of whome béeing cleared, breathing himselfe, and recey­uing some ayre, hee might espie before him running vp the Hill, a Gallant mounted on a Milke white Courser, which the knight imagined shoulde bee the commaunder of those companies which last assayled him, with whom desirous to acquaint himselfe: hee gaue spnrres to his horse, and so earnestly followed this Companion, who little thought of his comming, that ouer-taking him before hee was looked for, hee arested him so soundlie with his blade of authoritie, as he made him forsake his Horse, to taste the swéetenesse of the [Page] earth, which done he dismounted himselfe, saying: Abide you gallant, and accept a straungers courtesie. I promise thée false fellon as thou art thou dishonourest thy Maister, which made thée a receiuer of custome, to run away when payment is ten­dered: wherefore séeing there is no more trust in thée, héere in your kings name, I discharge thée of this office. And so at one blow taking his head with his Curtelax from his bodie, left his soule to him that had most right.

This latter taske accomplished, breathing himselfe a while, hee mounted his Horse, and pacing easily towardes the Tents, which by the fires light hée had sight of, hée was mette with diuerse of his companie of the Marchants, who béeing men of more valewe then manie of the rest, had put themselues in search of this woorthie Knight, passing all the way, thorowe so manie heapes of deade men, and grie­uous wounded bodyes, that they admired his worthinesse, a­plawding his valour, and still praysing him, giuing him the ho­nour, aboue all men at Armes, whatsoeuer they had either heard of or séene.

Thus passing on in search of their honourable friend, whose companie they were not willing to forgo, sometimes carefull of his welfare, otherwhile commending his hawtie déeds of chiualrie, they espied passing downe the hill, a man armed, which they coulde not perfectly discerne, and there­fore made a stande, intending to sée if there came any more, before they put themselues into daunger. But beeing per­ceyed of the Knight, who stoode still on his guarde, doubt­full of anie more such vnexpected customers, making readie for the fight. And giuing his Horse such way, as in his swif­test galloppe hee accustomed to make, he cried fiercelie out saint George. At which words the Marchants hauing know­ledge of him, dismounted themselues, and kissing his handes, his knées and feet, honored him for more then a mortall man, which kindnesse, asbeit he expected no such reuerent honour, hee tooke thankefully, requiting them with all courtesie, for the care they had of his well doing, so with pleasant discourses [Page] they passe the way vntill they came to thrée tents, where they alighting, tooke him carefully from his horse, and bringing him with all dutie to his lodging puruaide for him, they vnarmed him, washing his brused body, and such small scarres as hée reserued in fight, with most precious Balmes, which done, making him all the frolike cheare and honour they could, they commend him for that night to his rest, causing a sure guard, and héedfull watch to attend him in his tent, and placing faithfull sentinels, dreading the enemies, they tooke them­selues to their quiet repose.

CHAP. IIII.
Howe the Knight of the Crosse, taking leaue of the Mar­chants and their companie, left them to their iourney.

THe day ne sooner gaue light, but the Ne­groes and slaues prouided to load their Camels, which done, the Tents taken downe, and all things ordered to depart, the way lying now for the knight to leaue their companie, when they had well bro­ken theyr fast, and carowsed to their wel­fare, prouiding of al such prouision as they had, they presented him with a most curious casket of the ra­rest Iewels that euer his eyes beheld, beséeching him to ac­cept them at their hands, as interest of their loues, vowing themselues euer his in all humble seruices. The Knight which was as courteous as valiant, séeing their thankfulnesse such, making choyse of some speciall Iewels, required them to va­lue those which hée did fancie, for without paying their prize, hée would accept none. The Marchants which had receiued the benefit of his valour, and fréed from thòse men of mis­chiefe which had despoyled them of all if hee had béene absent, generally besought him to take in worth those they had presen­ted, for that not onely theyr goods but their liues was his, al­leadging [Page] that by him they enioyed what they had, and there­fore would not be intreated to receiue any of them againe, but besought him with all humblenesse, if hee would not receiue them, to bestow them on whom he would.

The knight when he saw their importunate sute, commen­ded their thankfulnesse, willing them to attribute that good hée had done for thē to God, by whose sufferance he had wrought their safetie, and in all places to speake of Englands honour, and their knight aduenturers: which done, taking those Iew­els of most estéeme with him, hee commended them to theyr iourney, who with many loath depart, bade him often times farewell with heauie hearts. This adue taken, we leaue the knight to his aduentures, the Marchants to finish their iour­ney, vntill fit time serue to recount such other aduentures as hée enterprised, to shew you further of the Lady Valia, A­lynde and their honest company, left in the vnfrequented Isle.

CHAP. V.
Of the great discomfort of the Lady Vallia, who of a conceited feare, fell sicke of a greeuous malladie.

YOu haue heard gentils, how the Ladie Vallia with those Merchants, was in the vnfrequent Iland, left without any man­ner of sustenaunce or reléefe, other then such wilde rootes, hearbes, and fruites, as naturally had their beeing in that barraine soyle, through which vnusuall diet, and a conceited feare of more insuing daungers, the Lady fell sicke of an extreame malladie, for whose recouerie no helpe could auaile: yet did those religious Hermits and Fryers the best they could. The Mar­chants and others of the companie, to amende theyr diet, employed theyr labours to fish, and to making of ginnes, to take foule and such beasts as was there to be had, onely [Page] for her content, but in vaine do they séeke to mittigate her sor­rowes, or recouer her health, such was her gréefe for her Lords absence, and feare of more harsh pursuit of the enemies.

In this perplexed estate continued this good Lady, past all hope of recouerie, giuen quite ouer to death by all the com­panie, who ceased not their prayers for her good health. But as in all extremes the fauour of our God is most shewne, so beholde in this, Vallia lying on her hard cabine, slumbring as in a dreame, there appeared vnto her thoughts a beautifull Personage, so glorious in his attyre, as she beholding there­of séemed to lacke her senses. This Angell as shée suppo­sing, after some pause and standing to behold her, thus said.

VAllia, surseace thy further dread: thy Lord eioyeth his life, whom once againe thou shalt meete, but haue no knowledge of him for a time: thine nearest allied death hath taken: yet dismay not, for in the seede of thy wombe shalt thou be made glorious. My message is done: thine intercessions are hard, and thy deliuery from this place asit hand.

This said, clapping his wings, as to her séemed, hée left the caue, and departed, wherewith Vallia, as one awaked from a trance, séeming as one of her wits to be bereft, cried mainely out for helpe, whose sodaine motions caused them all to feare her death was at hand: yet comforted they her all they might with such spéech & words of heauēly pleasures as in such times is conuenient to be vsed, so long continuing their talke, that in the end grasping her hād about the neck of her trusty Alinda: she raised her selfe in her bed, and fetching a déep sigh, said. Re­uerent father Hermit, you patron of learning, and others my good friendes, this night haue I séene my sauiour face to face, who by his diuine prouidence hath vouchsafed to shew him, selfe vnto me his sinfull handmaide, by whom I am assured of my Lords prosperitie, and all our fréedomes from this place.

The Hermit and the rest hearing these spéeches proceed from [Page] her imagined the lightnesse of her head had moued these fan­cies, and had the more doubt of her good health, and standing as men amazed, gazing one the other in the face, were as men senselesse, whose hard beléefe of her words vttered, caused her thus replie. Fathers and my good friends, let it not séeme in­credulous what I haue sayde, but attend the euent, which en­suing to our comforts as we expect, giue the honour to him, by whose prouidence we are comforted. This said, bidding them good night, shée fell into a most swéete sléepe, in which she con­tinued till the morning was farre spent. Before which time the company which vsually went about their vndertaken la­bours for getting their victuals, from the tops of the moun­taines descried a small sayle at sea, which they viewed, ear­nestly waiting by a compasse they had, which way shée bare: but so long gazed they, that the gale blowing hie, and fitting their cause, which were bounde thither for water, hauing spent their store at sea, through such continuall foule wether which they indured, in such manner, that they durst cease no land for feare of daunger. They descried their hull, which séene, well was hée that might make most haste with the first tydings, thinking the time long vntill they came to the caue, where béeing néere spéechlesse with the hast they made, a so­daine feare possessed all the companie, specially Alinda, whose heart was at her héele vntill shee heard them deliuer the cause of their spéedie comming, which knowne, God was glori­fied in generall. And Villia as one ouer ioyed at this sodaine newes, might not by any intreatie be held longer in her bed, but calling for her apparrell, attired her selfe with such cou­rage, as if shée had felt no gréefe, which done, resting her weake body on the arme of her Alinda, shee left the desolate caue, to take the comfort of the swéete ayre abroade, and to sée the euent of those blessed tydidgs she hoped of.

By this time was the ship ancored, and the Marriners ma­king haste for water, whereof they had great neede, hoysed their boate, and with their vessels came a shore, where they were heartily welcommed of those poore distressed people, [Page] who enquired diligently from whence they were, and what oc­casion droue them to that coast. Syr quoth the boatswaine, be­ing a man of some good demeanour, we are of Sicilia, an Iland belonging to the Spanish king, bound by our charty partie, for the coast of Egypt, and méeting as poore sea men oft doo, with foule weather, the winds raiging in such maner, our store of wine being spent, & water scarce, our cōming is hither for that reléefe. Thus sir, quoth he, as I haue acquainted you with our fortunes, refuse not to let vs knowe what you are, which haue your abode in a place so vnfrequēted as this, where I haue be­fore this time bin oftē, but neuer saw or heard any y^t liued here.

Friend quoth the Marchant, wee are here a great many poore distressed soules, which by violence of an enemie that vn­awares assailed vs on the shore, were driuen for safegard of this Lady to stand on our defence, where by fortune and the assistance of God, we vanquished the proude daring enemies, which were on land with vs: which when his companions perceiued that kept aboord his gally, they first rifling our ship, taking what they best liked, and afterwards leauing vs with­out any reléefe, sauing that apparrell on our backes, sunke our ship, and left vs to our fortunes, since which time we neuer had sight of any man or shippe, whereof we had any hope of comfort, before this time. Therefore if God haue ordained you for our good, and that as Christians you pittie our distresses, helpe this Lady with vs her friendes, to any place inhabited by Christians, your payment shall be large, and your charita­ble déede rewarded both of God and men.

The Boatswayne being a man as full of pitte as courage, hearing this lamentable discourse, and séeing the weake e­state of the Lady, was moued with remorse of their good, pro­mising his best furtherance for their comforts: so shipping one hogshead of water for the companie, hastneth aboord, ta­king with him the Fryer and two Marchants, whose words wrought such effect with the master and the rest, that a con­clusion was paste for their passage, and the master comming a shoare, brought with him for the Ladies releefe, such [Page] bread, succor, and other prouision as he had, which came in good time, and not before it was long looked for, which was as thankfully receiued. The master and his company hauing a care to bee at sea, applyed all their people to labour, so that within two dayes they were well prouided with water, ready to set sayle.

CHAP. VI.
How Vallia and the rest taking leaue of their good host the Hermit, was shipped from thence, with their fortunes.

SVch was the industrie of the Master, that long time was not spent before all néedful things were prouided, when hauing a pleesing gale for their course, warning was giuen to the passengers to be readie, for whom they made no long stay, but their leaue taken of the old Hermit, they commend him in their prayers to God, and themselues to such successe as they expected.

Al things fitted and the passengers aboord, the ancors weyed, an nimble boy yare with his knife, gaue way to the sayles, which tryned to good passe, a maine they cutte the waues, and ioyful of this happines, as to be endowed with great trea­sure, two daies & more they enioyed of quiet and calm content, without any annoyance either of wether or enemies: the third morning beeing ouercast and gloomie, a Boy looking out for daungers, espied vnder the edge of an Iland, two stout Gallies, who hauing sight of the Shippe, made towardes them with all spéede they could, of which béeing aduertised, a generall feare possessed all their hearts, especially the Ladie, who hauing so lately felt the force and extremitie of the mer­cilesse foe, was doubtfull of the like. But how timerous soeuer women in their kinde be, it resteth for men in extremities to shew themselues. The master being a man of courage, called [Page] all the companie, as well strangers as others, and vnto them hée sayth. Friendes all and companions, wee haue nowe small time to stande on discourses, séeing our enemies are at hand: if enemies they bée, as it is most likely, howif they getts the best, and wée by our cowardize subiect our selues vn­to them, I doubt not but you all haue heard what mis [...]rie wée shall endure, for Turkes they are, that is without all doubt: therefore like men shewe your selues and arme you with courage and hope of victorie, for howsoeuer death cannot bee so bitter as the torments they will inflict on you, if they preuaile. Therefore as many as will take parte with mée, holde vp your heades, and prouide for your safetie.

These wordes were no sooner deliuered from the Mai­ster, but you might sée with what vnited hearts euerie man gaue his consent to fight it out, and standing on no tearmes, euery man prouided him such weapons as hee coulde best vse, lacing close theyr mettinges, and making ready theyr fire workes to annoy them: whilst euerie man was thus busied, Vallia whome feare hadde neare ouerwhelmed, was comforted by her friendly trust Alinda, who chearing her weake spirits, said. Auant your feare Madam, cast hea­uinesse aside, and let not these sullen thoughts cumber you, wée know the worst, death is to bée preferred before a mise­rable life. Therefore take courage, sh [...]we your selfe to bée your selfe, and remember your noble Lorde, who were hée present, would dare all those curs to behold his face. Though we be women lets do our best, or at least, if your heart quaile, giue me leaue, for before you die some of them shall abie your life, or both my heart, power, and weapon shall faile me.

Vallia, which sawe her woman in this humour, could not forbeare to smile, howe heauie soeuer her heart was, yet set­ting a good face on the matter, sayde, well Alinda well, your great shewes will proue I feare but a bolde cowards bragge, as much may they do that say little, as they that fill the ayre with threatning clamours, whatsoeuer thy thoughts are of my [Page] feare, if my helpe néede, whereunto I trust it will neuer come, Alinda shall sée Vallia hath Raynolds heart, though not his apparrell.

Whilst they were thus pleasantly iesting, to the good encou­raging of all the companie, whose care was most for them, the Gallies comming vp, hailed them, commanding them to strike, and the maister with the Marchants to come aboord, or without resistance to suffer them enter. The Marchants of France, passengers hearing theyr peremtory spéeches, answe­red. Proude and vnhallowed curs, what think ye of vs, to bée men or babes, that you dare vs so with these spéeches, knowe that before thou haue in possession the least haire of any of our heades, thou shalt déerely abye them, therefore amaine, amaine, and therewith all hauing his péece reade, fired the same, aiming at the poope, wherewith shooting at randen, by great fortune killed the Admirall of the Gallies, w [...]ich done, a most sharp & bloudy fight began, and with great courage on the Christians parte maintayned, who with their ordinance sl [...]w their slaues and companies like Bées: which disaduan­tage the Turks séeing and féeling, fighting so farre off, bor­ded them one on the one side, the other on the other: at this onset beganne the Spaniards to quaile, which were chéered to the fight by their passengers, who séeing theyr valour, was incouraged to sticke to that which else they had giuen o­uer, especially séeing and noting how manly and without feare, the Lady Vallia and her Alinda deuoired themselues, who spying their times to worke on the aduantage, séeing their chaines full with Turks, ready to enter theyr ship, from a port with their shorte pikes, spoyled many, thrusting them ouer boord, and killing diuers, and spéeding them from that labour, two naked Turkes hauing fastned an anchor at their Shippes rother, thinking to enter in theyr stearne partes, by Vallia and Alinda were so plyed with Pottes of Powder fired, Pikes of wilde fire, and such other, as theyr whole companie giuing ouer the fight, there was very fewe or none, eyther Turkes or Christian slaues [Page] which could stand so pitifully were they spoyled, burned, and massacred, whereby they enforced them to yéeld themselues vnto the Christians mercies, of whom they tooks small pi­tie: but drenching them all in the sea they founde aliue, sunke one of the Gallyes, and taking all the Christians into the o­ther that were able to serue, fréed them from their chaines, and caused the wounded to be drest, left the Gally in possession that night of a Marchant of Marceelas: which done, and all things quietly ended, the Frier which sawe how valiantly the Ladie and Alinda employed their forces, highly commended them for their forwardnesse in this action, which made Alinda in ieasting maner thus to say. That your Ladiship is become so valiant on the sudden, I do not greatly maruell, considering the fellowship you haue so lately with so honourable a knight, whose courage hath animated you to this hardinesse: if the husband bee famous for his woorth and honour gained in all places, no doubt but France and Spaine, and Italie, shall sound the Ladie Vallia her high deserued commendations, whom, if God blesse with increase of children, are likelie to proue men of high account in the worlde, if they haue the fa­thers courages, or the mothers stomacke which is passed by with an English heart. Vallia hearing her Maiden to ieast thus broad, cut off her speach thus.

Alinda, what motions are these, that on such sudden causeth your strings to iarre so farre beyond your custome, such maner of ieasts I brooke not, though louing thée, I straine my selfe at this time to digest them. In deliuering of which spéech, Alinda perceiuing by her vnwonted scowling of her browes, that shée was somewhat discontent at her spéech, forbare her further an­sweres for that time. To put her from her melancholie, the ma­ster of the ship, told her such viands as they had was readie, if shée pleases to sup: whereunto she was easily entreated, ha­uing gotten her a stomacke with her long fasting, and hard toyle in the fight Their discourses at table of each seuerall ac­cident happening, I omit, to let you knowe their ensuing acti­ons with their successe.

CHAP. VII.
How the Spaniards deliuered the Gally vnto the French Marchants, and Mariners, with such vittailes as they nee­ded, who taking with them the Lady Vallia, left them.

THe Lady with her friends discourst at sup­per of the dangers past, leauing nothing of worth by any one particular vnremem­bred, done in that action, a motion was made, that the Gally with the flaues able to labor, and vittails necessary should be giuen vnto her to bring her to her desired port, vnto which the Spaniards to requite the good done them by her whole companie, granted very wil­lingly, for performance of which, order was presently takē, and each thing néedfully puruaide to the ladies good content. In the morning early by break of the day, the master hauing the wind faire, was loath to make longer stay then néed, haled the gally, willing them to com néere the ship, and vnto the marchant re­uealed their intent, and what the whole companie had agréed vpon, which was verie well accepted of the French men, who rendred him many thanks for his fauour, for dispatch of them both: such hast was made as possible they might, which was so­denly done to the general, reioicing of these poore captiues who by this ouerthrow of the Turks, were made frée. The ladie a­boord, taking their solemne farewell each of other, they shaped each one there seueral course best fitting their turne. Vallia fro­like with her companie, & holy father, vnto whom with a verie thankfull mind vnto her maker for all the successe she had re­ceiued from him, and accomplishing her hearts desire, omitted nothing worthy the recounting, to the great admiration of all the hearers, especially the Frier, whose charge she was, who calling to mind the fauor of God, in reuealing to her by vision their time of sudden departure, thought her some holy & chosen woman, & euer after in all his Masses & other ceremoniall rites [Page] according to the order of their church and blind deuotion, extol­led the ladie farre beyond her expectation. Thus falling frō one discourse to another, to driue the time away: after they had spēt one whole wéeke at sea, they might discouer y^e mountains néer the old city Ceueta vecha, or old Rome, so called, & had al things so fauourable to their desire, that long before night they reco­uered the road, where comming to anker, was presently boor­ded by the officers of the citie, who had great feare they had bin Turks at their first comming in: but hauing some conference with the Frier, was certified of all their procéedings, leauing nothing vnspoken which might gaine them fame, and the ladie honour, wherfore the officers hauing knowledge, holding that truth which the frier had spoken, whilest they frolicke with the ladie, & her company, sent his guidelow a shore with one of his confederates, charging him to deliuer to the abbot & his friers what he heard, taking like order for puruaying her of lodging in the old palace of the Emperour, which he caused to be furni­shed with all néedfull furniture, as the shortnesse of time would permit them, with all prouision that was there to be had.

The officer who was a ioyfull man of these tidings to be the messenger, hasteneth all he might, being with child with those newes, & longing to be deliuered, wherfore as soone as he reco­uered the shore, staieth not vntill he came vnto the lord abbot, vnto whom he forgat nothing of his charge, which the old man hearing, blessing & crossing himself, wōderously perplexed with the strangenes of y^e tale deliuered, he first called his couent togi­ther in their church, wher they praised God for them, and their safetie, and so putting on all their best masking attire, went in procession to the sea side, to receiue her a shore, where they car­ried with them the speciallest relicks they had.

The captaine of the towne with his band, in solemne order marching in like maner, and all the bels ringing for ioy, to wel­come the holy Ladie. After all these the gouernors and councell of the towne in their order, making such a beautifull shewe as had not béene on such a sudden euer séene before.

All things ordred at point deuice, boats were sent out so richly [Page] furnished with Tapistrie, Carpets, and curious Cushions, as was a wonder to see, the shore standing full with all the people in the Towne.

The men appoynted to bring her a shore, being noble men, the one a gouernour in the towne, the other a Cardinall, who boording the Gally, on their knées solemnly kissed her handes and féet, doing her as much honour as if our Ladie had bin pre­sent, which she tooke small pleasure to haue, which done, and a generall welcome to the whole companie, the gouernour en­treated her to take the comfort of the shore, to which small per­swasions serued, at her going to the boat, well was hee that might set hand to helpe, & he thought himselfe most happiest, y^t could come nearest her, such fopperie wos not vsed aboord, but much more on the shore, where was ducking on all sides, crou­ching and kneeling, with such singing, drumming & gunning, that y^e Eccho thereof was enough to make a man sicke. The welcome giuen, this noble Ladie might not be suffered to touch the earth with her féete. But at her landing place, was spred a most sumptuous cloath of estate, and a Chaire thereon to rest her, where when she had a while reposed her selfe, and euery one of account kissed her féete and hands, foure comman­ders, two Priests, and two Captains, carried her in the chaire, ouer whom was borne by the Abbot, the Cardinall, and two noble men, amost rich Canapie. So marched shée vntill they came vnto the Abbey, where preparation was made for her lodging, where the Procession ending, the Cardinall and Abbot tooke leaue of the gouernours of the towne, bidding them good night.

But they which had prouided the Emperours pallace, and béene at great charge for her viands, tooke in ill part, that anie such vnkindnesse should be offered them, and in quiet maner besought them to grant them leaue to haue the guard of her, which they so scornefully answered, that the Cardinall in spea­king as his cholericke nature accustomed, with his hande had like to haue giuen the Gouernour a blowe on the face, which vnkindnesse the souldiours disdaining, by violence sought to [Page] carrie the Ladie, in such maner, and with such harsh behauiour on both sides, that the Cardinall, Abbot, the Crosse, Banners, and all were layd lowe on the earth, and such a hurley burley begunne, as was neuer séene the like, striuing for the Ladies entertainment, which gréeued the good Ladie, which was then to be ruled by those of greatest power, the souldiers and com­maunders of the Towne, with whom she was best pleased, for that her loue and honourable Lord, was a man of Armes and honour.

This discurtesie the Cardinall and his company tooke in such ill part, that they cursed all the Towne, and Towne in­habiters, suspending them from the holy Church for euer. But they whose care was small at that time, for any their doings cared but litle. The Lady they cheared, who wanted nothing that was fit for her honour and welfare, where let her repose her selfe a time with iollitie, the Fryers sweating in their own grease, and the Cardinall and Abbot chafing like men frantike, to shewe you what after happened.

CHAP. VIII.
How the Gouernour aduertised the Emperour, of the arri­uall of the Ladie Vallia, and what after chaunced her.

THe broyle ended, a great sturre was in all the Religious houses, amongst them­selues, debating of the wrong offered by the people of the Towne, the Church doores were all sealed vp, and no man vp­on paine of their curse to enter them.

This was considered of the Gouer­nours, who tooke aduise in the matter, knowing the authoritie they haue in all places where their re­ligion taketh place. Besought the Ladie for her Letters of fa­uour to the Emperour, to the end this begun enmitie, might be app [...]ed, vnto which she was easily perswaded, though [...] against the minde of her Protector the Fry [...]r.

[Page] The Ladies Letters signed, which imported her message from the Knight of the holy Crosse, and the messenger appointed, there was no detracting of time, but with all spéed that Horse could make, he applied his businesse, vntil he came vnto Rome, where comming before the Emperour, he deliuered his Let­ters, which were very welcome, taking great pleasure in the comming of the Lady into those confines, being Lady and wife vnto the Knight which of all men liuing he holde in most re­gard.

Whilest the Emperour was discoursing with the Mes­senger, a Cardinall came to summon him before the prefence of the Pope, presently to appeare, to answere those wronges done by his Gouernours to the Church and Patrons thereof, of all which, the Cardinall had signified his holinesse, which was held a matter most hainous.

The Cardinall gone, the Emperour called againe for the Messenger, and with him questioned of all those troubles be­gunne, whereof he did aduertise him in each particular, and withall, deliuered the Gouernours Letters, which he had writ­ten to that ende, doubting such a chaunce would happen, and that the Cardinall would séeke reuenge, with all extremitie he could. When the Emperour was aduertised hereof, making no stay, he came before the Pope, vnto whom as the maner was, doing reuerence, he requireth the cause of his spéedie sending for him.

The Pope whose fury was not yet ouerpast, incensed to more choler by perswasions of the rest, who hung al in a string, doubting least giuing héed to these, it might incurre a farther damage vnto them all, in their seuerall gouernment, began in loude and most harsh termes to reuile the Emperour, calling him hereticke, and subborner of heretickes, vttering against him spéech of most dishonour and disgrace. All which the Em­perour like himselfe, as he was a most graue and well gouer­ned Magistrate, knowing by his owne perfections, other mens humors, forbare to answere what he in choller offered, but mildly leauing his presence returned to his Pallace, very high­ly [Page] discontent, yet gouerning his passions, betaking himselfe to his studie, he gan with great wisedome to consider of each ac­cident, and finding his Gouernours offence to touch his repu­tation, albeit he had done all for his honour and credit, yet the Church carrying a hand ouer all of what estate so euer, know­ing by experience their insolencie, thought it best to reconcile himselfe without farther mouing of trouble, and thereon resol­uing sent presently for the Cardinall his Confessor, vnto whom he faineth, what heauinesse and griefe he conceiueth at those vnkinde dealings of his Gouernours against his holinesse, the Church, and state thereof, beséeching him, of those loues he al­wayes proffered vnto him, to finde some meane to accord his holinesse and him, so that a league and peace being obtained, all wrongs might be forgotten, and his Townes men restored to the Church againe. All which his Confessour promised most faithfully to follow. And so taking leaue of the Emperour, spée­deth him to his holinesse Presence, where forgetting nothing that he had promised, omitting nothing for his better successe, declareth at large the heauinesse of the Emperour, for his abuse offered against his will and knowledge, so earnestly applyeth his sute vnto the Pope and his honorable friends, that though with much adoo, yet at last an attonement was graunted, but the Emperour and the Towne fined at ten thousand Florence for the offence: wheron concluded, a peace was made, and vni­tie betwéene them, and they all restored to the Church.

This brawle ended, the Emperour not forgetting his friends Lady, bent his studies for her royall entertainment, for which taking order with all his Officers, he appointed a day to set forward to her place of abode. Till which time, we leaue them to recount vnto you the Knightes troubles, and what chaunceth him in his trauailes.

CHAP. IX.
How the Knight of the holy Crosse, by the trechery of his guide, was robbed of his Horse and Armour, and what happened.

AFter the departure of the Knight with she Marchants, on the Mountaines of y^e Tar­tars, comming to a place called Sylo, where he was to imbarque himselfe, he discharged his guide, and sayled with other company to Misath, where being landed, presented himselfe with the rest of the passengers to the Bashaw, who came in person to sée the passengers bounde for Ierusalem. This Bashaw being of a proud and insolent cōdition, expected great reuerence, which of the common company was giuen him. But our Cauylier scorning such base fashions, could not stoupe in such maner, wherefore the Bashawe began in vile spéech to taunt him, which he better vnderstanding then the rest, though he had not his language so perfit, in Italian answered his spée­ches, whereat great excepttions were taken, yet by reason of his safeconduit, he durst no quarrell or make stay of him, but amongst the rest, without fauour, had vittailes and a guide: and so mounting his horse departed, leauing the company to the common guard of the souldiers, as is the custome.

The Bashawe whom spite had moued to choller against the Knight, vnderstanding he left the ordinary passage, enten­ded to cry quittance with him, by trechery, or as he best might, to fulfill his diuellish minde: And that night armed a hundreth of his best Iannisaries, whom he hyred to slay him, appoyn­ting them the way to follow the Knight, whom they very hard­ly pursued, in such maner has [...]ning, that they had sight of him, following by easie pace a long time, till night growing vppon them, they caused a naked Moore to ouertake him, and to keepe him company, appoynting him to take such order with his [Page] guide, that where he should rest, to robbe him both of horse and armour: And that done, to giue them notise, whome he should be sure to finde by their seuerall Fyers, which they would of purpose make. With this lesson the naked rogue left them. And ouertaking the Knight, fell in iesting with his guide, with whom he vsed such pleasaunt behauiour, that it greatly deligh­ted the Knight, who made much of him, and willed him to stay by the Fountaine where he pitched his Tent, imparting with him such vittailes as he had: when the Knight had well refre­shed himselfe, and had séene his Horse well meated with barley which he brought for him, giuing straight charge to the Moore his guide, to maintaine the Fyer which vsually they kept, for defence of the Lyons and wilde beasts kéeping the desarts, he tooke him to rest.

The Moore hauing now opportunitie to worke his com­panion, taking him from the Tent, beganne so to worke with him, that with showes of kindnesse being his countrey-man, loue of the souldiers where he liued, and hope of great reward, he wonne him to effect whatsoeuer he desired: which done, ta­king the opportunitie offered, he aduentured first to enter the Tent, and by seuerall péeces tooke the Armour, his shield being vnder his head he durst not touch, and his sword with an ar­ming lace fastened to his arme, being well as he thought with this, they tooke each of them a Horse, and leauing both y^e knight and his Page to walke on foote, left them thus in their sounde sléepe.

The trayterous villaines hauing sped of their businesse, ceaseth not poasting from Fyer to Fyer, vntil they had giuen notise to all the souldiers what they had done, who gathering themselues togither, set on to find the Tent whither they were conducted by the guide and the other slaue, his companion in this practise. But he that in many perilles had deliuered our braue and endaunted Knight, preserueth him still for his Coun­tries honour, as you shall note.

For the villaines gone, and heauy slumber oppressing him, he fell into a sound fléep, in which he dreamed, and in his dream [Page] séemed perfitly to sée an hoast of men, enuiron a fewe peaceable trauailers, which he of mere deuotion sought to rescue: in whih dreame awaking, and bustling himselfe, as to helpe those di­stressed, sought for his armour, being neither fast a sléepe nor throughly awaked: which ensuing, he calleth his Page, and both went to séeke their horses which were likewise gone, lea­uing them none but the Asse and Mule which carrieth theyr vittailes.

This chaunce happening, he could not imagine what to do, nor where to séeke those miscreants which so had robbed him, ye [...] searcheth he here and there, crying and calling for them, which were too farre off to heare him: So long they followed séeking those villaines, that they might hear the noyse of many horses, which trouping made great spéede towards the place where they kept.

Attentiuely listned the Knight, to note if he could here any voyce, and bnsily bethought him what was best to doo in this extreme, beléeuing verily that he was betrayed yet making no semblant thereof, caused the Page to bring from out his tent a case of Pistolles with his powder and shotte, which com­monly the Page carryed, with those he charged the boye, if occasion serued, to doo his best seruice, and to giue him that helpe he could, which faithfully he promised to accomplish.

Scarsly had they determined what to doo, but they might discry the two Moores gallopping on their horses, which by their white Algosines they perfitly did knowe, leading the o­thers which closely followed them, making all the haste they could.

This fight made him verily beléeue that those villaines had betrayed him, and that those Horsemen were they which en­tended to worke him mischiefe, for whome hée purposeth to prouide, séeking his best aduauntage to continue the fighte, sheltering himselfe close to a shrubbed Oliue Trée, which grewe thereby, distaunt from his Tent a furlong or there­about, by which they must néedes passe that came to séeke him.

[Page] The Moores approaching, making readie to take them first, which were the Authours of this stratageme, the Page with a Pistolle killed the one, and the other whiche was his guide, with his Curtilex hée vnhorsed, dooing him no other harme. But perceiuing who hée was, thought to saue him aliue, to bee a guide for him, if hée escaped out of those Mountaines, so binding him hande and foote, hée put a gagge in his mouth, and cast him from him: which done, making readie to entertaine the rest, hée spéedeth to his chosen Trée: where long hée had not stayed, but the others gallopping came as swiftly as they could, where finding the two Horsses without men, made them stande, but to their cost, for his Pistolles being prouided, by them the foremost two lost their liues. Which done, hée armed himselfe to defence, euer annoying them as hée sawe his most aduauntage, whilest the Page with his Pistolles did his part, paying surely all those that hée made offer to hitte. A hardie broyle and daungerous fight endured this Noble English Knight, which for all their great multitudes was not dismayed at all, but in the middest of his distresse, to the encouragement of his poore Page, cryed still Lancaster, Saint George for England, neuer making any shewe of discouragement, albeit his woundes were many, which bled moste greeuously, yet stoode hée, to the great euer­throwe of them all, brauely and ioyfully encouraging him­selfe with hope of theyr shamefull downe-falles. In which ayded by him whome hée zealously serued, hée brought to confusion, sometimes assayling, sometimes defending, as hée best could finde opportunitie, and greatest aduauntage, euer spéeding one or other, so that hée neuer strooke in­vaine.

Continuing his dole with such a kinde of deuotion, that the better part of their Army béeing slaine, and the moste of the rest lying grouelling for life, amongst them, he espy­ed one of the verye principallest hauing on his A [...]mour, [Page] who being none of the best men, séeing the others haue such ill successe, was flying as fast as he could, but the Knight percei­uing him, got him to horse, and so earnestly followed him, that to his great cost he ouertooke him, in ill time, as he might well witnesse: for with such authoritie he arrested this run-away, that he had no leisure to aske at whose sute, but being an execu­tion, pawned his life for satisfaction.

This companion hauing his pasport to the great diuell, signed and sealed by the hand of a noble English Knight, he ar­med him, and poasting backe amongst the rest, payde them more then he owed, by many a Turkes life.

By this time the day gaue him faire light, so that he might well sée his worke, wherfore such as could make shift for them­selues, séeing the ill successe their fellowes had, stood not on any more poynts of manhood then was fit they should, but without taking leaue, made what haste they could for their safetie.

The noble Edward séeing his companions gone, and none left able to make any resistance, went to suruay them, which were all goodly fellowes, and well appointed after their fashi­on, amongst which, he found one Spanyard, who was newly taken in Turky, and turnde Turke: this fellowe had some knowledge of y^e Knight, and was abiding in Gebraltare, when by the Turkes he was betrayed to the Gouernour. And in his company two Easterlings which had bene men of value and good worth, who hearing the Spanyard craue for pittie at his handes, hauing some hope to escape with life, cryed out vnto him, beséeching him to heare them speake, who being of kinde and noble condition, commanded them to say what they wold he would heare them.

This comfort obtained, the Easterling bewayling their ill fortunes, which through the crueltie of the Turkes, were com­peld to forsake their Sauiour, allured thereunto oft by threat­ning, and menased with gréeuous torments, and oft with pro­mise of large possessions, so that in the ende to their great sor­row and more shame of themselues, they repented their fol [...]y and great sinne committed against God, beséeching the knight [Page] to haue mercie vpon them, who being now in his hand, might either deliuer them by death from that sting of conscience, which continually gn [...]wed as the hungry Tyger on his prey, or graunting them life, accept them as his slaues, so that they might thorow a repentant minde, obtaine the fauour of God, whom so highly they had offended.

With this pitifull suit, the Knight whose heart was alwaies inclined to mercie (moued with remorse of sauing their soules, whome none but he that gaue th [...]m life could pardon) forgaue them theyr death, and the Spaniard also, and with the h [...]lpe of the Page, carried them vnto his lodging, where he played the Surgeon, binding and dressing theyr woundes: which done, with such Balmes and eyntmens of rare worth, hée trimmed his owne gréefes, giuing God thankes for his safetie in those extreames, and fréeing him from those daungers, for the ease and recure of al which, hee made his stay there, some thrée or foure dayes, releasing the Moore which lay bound, who serued to dresse theyr horses, on whose examination, and the Easter­lings, he had knowledge, that his intended euill proceded from the Bashaw, who hyred the Ienesaries of purpose to slay him, for whom God continually fought.

CHAP. X.
How the Knight of the Crosse-arriuing at Ioppa, through the treason of those that fled, was there imprisoned.

WHen this most famous Knight, and myr­rour of honour, had reposed himselfe with those wounded people, some foure dayes, and had gotten strength to trauaile, hée puruayed him for his iourney, and set for­ward as his way lay to Ioppa. To this place, s [...]me of the Ienesaries which esca­ped from the fight, was come before, lay­ing watch there, as alse at R [...]ma, and other places, for stay of [Page] the Knight in his passage. At this towne, the General no sooner arriued, but by those tokens was giuen, he was well knowne, and had entertainment by the Bashawe, which sate in the gate daylie, of purpose to entertaine such trauailers as came.

When the Knight had declared what he was, and his oc­casion of trauaile, doing all customes that to the place appertai­ned, deliuering his weapons, with which, no man being a strā ­ger, is suffered to enter, hauing him naked, and at aduantage with nothing to defend himselfe, or offend them, the Bashaw suffered him to enter the Towne, appointing his lodging as the custome is to doo. But before he recouered the place, an vg­ly monster of men, with a face as griestie as a Beare, came vn­to him, accompanied with a traine of rakeshames, which at­tended him, all weaponed: and laying violent hands vppon him, calling and reuiling him at his pleasure, commanding him to go with him.

The knight and his companie that saw this extremitie and wrong offered him, being now in such a place, where it was bootelesse to resist them, hoping the best, yeelded himselfe vnto theyr mercies, who caried him to a most vilde and stinking pri­sō where the roome was scarsty able to lodge two dogs, hauing nothing but the bare earth to lodge on, neither could he be suf­fered to haue any, his trunkes, bedding, and such money and goods as he had, they confiscated to the Bashawes vses, who would not depart with one ospéere of his dutie.

The knight in safetie, they laide hands on the page, who be­ing a proper yong man, they sought to haue him a Turke: But he who scorned his life, in regard of Gods fauour and loue, on which he builded, resisted all their deuises, sometimes speaking fayre, and other times, daring them to doo what they durst, re­specting nothing what they could d [...]uise to doo him harme, such was his constancie and firme hope in God.

The Spaniards and the two Easterlings, were fayne to sticke still to their olde consortes for fauour, whome they woon with such gentle spéeches, to fauour the knight, that they obtained leaue to bring him his vyands, which was so good as [Page] any they could get for their monies, euer chéering him in his ex­tremities, vowing themselues his, so assured, that their liues should be offered for their safetie, which comfort hee tooke so kindly, as if they had done him all the good hee could himselfe desire, promising a good requitall, if God euer released him of those troubles.

Thus leaue we the noble Edward in his imprisonment, for a time: the Page to the fauour of the Bashaw, and the Easter­lings employing all their best power for his deliuerance, to let you heare of the lady Vallia, & her companie, what hapned thē.

CHAP. XI.
Howe the Emperour with all his traine, set forwardes from Rome, to conduct the Ladie Vallia vnto Rome.

THe Emperor hauing made the atonement with the Pope for his people, omitted no time for purueying all thinges, which might any wayes tend to his honour, or please his most noble friends ladie, whom in his absence he tooke a princely care of, which ordained as he could best deuise, he dispatched two noble men of his Court, with great presents vnto her, to signifie his comming, which tooke the easier iourney, his age requiring it, cōmanding those nobles to sée each thing with such honour to be furnished, as if himselfe were present. With this charge the Nobles departed, desirous to sée the Ladie, of whō for her rare vertures, and most excellent graces was so much spoken of, as also for her Lordes sake, whose followers in the Emperors wars they sometimes were, delaieth no time for performance of what they intended: so as in very short time they arriued at Cenita Vecha, & were suddenly brought to the ladies presence, vnto whō doing all the reuerence they could, or as their countries vse is, they declared the great care of the Emperor for her, the ioy he conceiued of [Page] her safetie and good arriuall in his confines, and how much his desired the presence of her Lord and husband, whose welfare he wished as his own, and whose companie he more desired, then all the Princes of the world. This said, and the Lady returning heartie thanks for those Princely fauours, as also for her hono­rable presence, the nobles desirous to be certified of y^e knights safetie, beganne to question with her of many sundry matters, who were with such wisedome and honourable courtesie an­swered, that they admired her, giuing her the prayse of all the Ladies that euer they had séene.

The nobles delighting in her companie, neuer were satisfied with her spéech, but as times conuenient serued, with much pleasant parley and spéech of importance, as occasiō was mini­stred, they passed the time two or thrée daies. After which tune, the Lady, who had often felt such fits as to yong women are incident, though vnaccustomed with those passions, and being acquainted with none but her Alinda, which had as small skill in such causes as her selfe, she put that off often with good coun­tenaunce, which beganne now to increase so on her, that shée could no longer hide: all which she attributed to her trauaile, and such other cares as she endured, that to be assured of her disease, and to séeke reléefe for her, beeing in verie weake case, they acquainted the Phisitian of the cardinall with her water, who by all his skill, found the cause no other, but bréeding child, for which hauing a carefull regard (commanded stricktly vnto it by his Lord) he prescribed order of diet and gouernment for her, which he gaue with great charge vnto Alynda, to execute. In this carefull heauinesse of the Ladies sicknesse, a messenger arriued at the pallace, which brought tidings of the Emperors comming, who was within halfe a dayes iourney, and meant God willing to sim with them that night. At hearing of which, a great stir began in the citie, making all the preparation for his most honorable entertainment. The Cardinal with al his crew mounting themselues, with all the nobles and burgesses of the Citie, in good and most commendable order, issued the Citie to méete him, at whose comming, such a general ioy was séene in [Page] euerie place, as of long time had not beene the like.

What kind and louing embracing was betwéene the Car­dinall & him, the Bishops, A [...]ots, and all the rest, with shewes of loue and dutie, and how honourably the same was requited, I omit, bringing him to the pallace gate; his long desired place to be: where the Lady Vallia with her Alynda, and all the La­dies of the nobilitie and honour met him, vnto whome Vallia prostrating her selfe on her knées, besought his excellent high­nesse, to accept the humble seruice of her lord and husband, who rested his in all dutie, beseeching his imperiall maiestie to par­don hi [...] negligence, and lusse ofher Lords letters, by which she was commended vnto his fauourable custodie, not omitting each particular action, which chanced her and her companie, with the cause of their losse, of all which she intreated his maie­stie to enquire of those marchants, and that reuerent father the Frier, to whose charge she was committed by her Lord.

The Emperour full of maiestie and honour, making great shewes of heartie welcome to her and her people, most honou­rably entertained them, giuing those Ladies and nobles of his countrey gracious thankes, in honouring him so much as they had done, in entertaining this welcome Lady to his countrey. These welcomes of each side giuen, the time vntil supper was ready, they pleasantly spent in discoursing of seuer all matters, the most part tending to the honour and high commendations of the knight of the Holy Crosse, of whose vallor, courtesie, and resolution, they all affirmed none could sufficiently speake. At hearing of which, suppose you Ladyes and women of what e­stéeme soeuer, that haue men of person, valour, and honour, en­dowed with many good parts, as this noble Edward, if Valia were proud yea or no, you are made iudges of her thoughts, which by your owne thoughts can best censure of hers, if she be proude, it is not her fault, for by him his countries honour tho­row the world is increased.

CHAP. XII.
How the Emperour taking care for the Ladie his charge, af­ter great honour done vnto her, set forwards to Rome.

THe Emperour whose honourable thoughts was most in giuing due honour vnto the La­die, was ioyfull in her presence, but more ioy­full in that she was with child, which he hoped should haue his beginning in the world in his dominions, for whom as for the Ladie he was not a little carefull, taking an especiall charge on himself, for her easie conuay to Rome, whither after some stay made, as well for the ease of his aged body, as for dispatch of such businesse the lady had then in hand, when by his excellent bountie at her en­tercession, the Marchants for their goods lost, were satisfied, and those Christian prisoners with good rewards set frée, and all things sorted to such happie euent as she desired, euerie one content, and the Emperour best pleased in his charge, hearing by generall report, her most godly behauiour, and her resolute courage, in their and her owne defence, louingly embracing her, he sayth: welcome the flower of womanhood, to thine owne Empire, where thou shalt not liue to be commaunded, but to command: whatsoeuer I possesse, in all places where I haue a­ny command: therfore honourable Ladie, set feare and care a­part, and frolicke it with those whose care is now for you and your welfare.

For whose gracious offers, Vallia rendered her most hearty thankes, beséeching God to endue her Lord with life, and safe returne to Rome, that hee might acknowledge the like.

This finished, the Emperour commaunded to prepare for their iourney, which was in all readinesse against the next morning, when with all the honour might be shewen, shee [Page] was accompanied, with all the estates of the countrey, both Ladyes and others: at whose departing the citie, great gifts were presented vnto her, which she most thankfully accepted, and the Emperour for her sake most honourably and bounti­fully required.

Thus leauing the citie of old Rome, by verie easie iourneyes they procéede, passing the way with all deuises might be procu­red, to beguile the wearinesse of the iourney, as hauking, hun­ting, and other pastimes and pleasing discourses, in which, the Emperour desirous to knowe of what countrey she was, for that shee spake his owne language so perfectly, required it at her hande as an especiall fauour, which Vallia with great reuerence and courtesie aunswered, discoursing bréefely vnto him the long and heartie affection shee bore him, béeing but a stranger, and how she left her fathers court, with her wo­man then attending on her, disguised both in mans attyre, not omitting his deliuerance frō the Spanish imprisonment, with all their procéedings, vntill their marriage. Which wonder­full discourse the Emperor was neuer wearied to heare: when she had all finished, with such heartie loue and more zealous af­fection, if more might be, kissing her tender chéekes, which he bedewed with his teares, procéeding from the entire ioy of his most honorable hart, he saith. Thou lamp of honor, & wonder of y^e earth, how may thy most deserued praises be eternized as they merit? my noble friend in so honourable a child, and thy country thrise happie is renowmed wherein thou hadst thy being: bles­sed by y^e loynes from whence thou procéedest, & a world of hap­pinesse betide those, whose tender paps gaue thée nourishment. Honorable friend duke Philip, happy father, eternally shal thy name liue, in this gracious and noble child: oh Philip, ioy of thy louing friends and kin, didst thou know thy daughter, whom long sithence it may be, thou reckonest among the dead, where liuing and so neare thee, what ioy would it bring thy drooping aged heart: Me thinkes I sée thy sprites how they would skip, to heare thy Vallia liueth, which thou shalt know, with such spéede as I best may, or can giue thee notise thereof, [Page] if you gracious Ladie say▪ Amen, to what I intend. Vallia seeing the ioy of the Emperour, for her fathers good, could not forbeare shedding teares at his kind offers: which passing o­uer as she best could, prostrating her selfe, she in all humblenes, besought his Maiestie, to thinke howe much she had incurred her fathers high displeasure so to leaue him, without giuing any notice of her departure to any one, which she doubted would neuer be recouered without his speciall suit, which if by his most honourable meanes she did obtaine, how she shoulde hold her selfe blessed of God, and honoured of his highnesse, modestie caused her conceale: vewing by the honour of her husbands name, that all the fauour he could do her, was not, neither could it be so acceptable vnto her as this.

The Emperour noting her heauinesse for her fathers displeasure, comforted her all he might, assuring her on his ho­nour, to recouer what she required. And calling for pen, ynke, and paper, wrote as followeth.

These letters written, he read the contents vnto the Ladie Valya, who praying for his long life, she heartily thanked him for his gracious fauour and care of her, which done, & she there with well pleased, he signed and subscribed the same. Then cal­ling one of his Nobles, which was graue, and of honourable account, he deliuered the same, with especiall charge, for the spéedie conuay thereof, and secret conscealing of the Ladie. Which done (commending him to his iourney, and good per­formance of his charge) hee bid him farewell, whom we leaue to his trauaile, and the Emperour and the Lady, vnto theyr pleasure, vntill her time of deliuerance, of which you shall here, as soone as the midwife hath done her office.

CHAP. XIII.
How the Knight of the Crosse, by the industrie of the two easterlings and the page was freed from prison, and what chanced to them.

THe Noble Edward cloyed with his mis­haps, and harsh vsage in his imprisonmēt, thought euery moneth a yeare, and euerie minute a moneth, vntil he was at libertie. Oftentimes perswading himselfe to great hazard in fréeing him from that captiuitie: And then by intreatie of those, one whose trust he relied his determinations ceased, [Page] attending his pleasure, which neuer left him without com­fort, his poore followers dooing for him what they could. But as long looked for, comes at last, so the time of his deliuerie drawing nie, and euerie thing effected securely, his guides by whome hee was to be ruled, pretending a iourney to Sylo, obtained his horse and armour of the bashaw, for a present to their Bashaw, from whence they came, which closely they con­uaied away out of the citie, to a place of seacreci [...], which they in their idle walke had founde, leauing the Page in his lodging, which was in a Iewes house verie secret. For the Page they ordained Turkish attire, and him furnished very orderly, with a counterfeit mustacho, the better to disguise him for béeing known, hauing another for the knight, vnto whom before their going they had imparted their deuise, which was so slay his kee­per that euening, when he came to bring him water, and in his apparrell to escape, appoynting him a place without the Citie, where they with the Page would tarrie his comming. This done, first conuaying the page in his attire, which escaped the watch without suspect: they sought the gaylour, of whome pre­tending to take a solemne farewell, they carryed him to a Ba­niard, a place where the Christian Captiues were kept, ply­ing him so with Aqua vitae, or as they call it Rakcaye, that hée forgot himselfe, that with kindnes and shewes of loue, they pro­cured him to the prison, to take their leaue of y^e knight, wherein the kéeper was no sooner entred, but the Easterlings thinking that the fittest time, gaue him y^e word to make him away, whilst they kept sure guarde for his safetie. By whose d [...]uise béeing ruled, the Gaylor ended his life, with a weapon which they gaue him: which doone, long stood not our knight attyring himselfe in Cerberus apparrell, who being furnished, and dis­guised with a counterfeit beard, hee aduentured thorow the gate all alone, faining a manner of stumbling and réeling in the gate, and passed the ward, who seeing him in that man­n [...]r drest, cryed out Buracho, which is to say drunken. This d [...]one, his companions séeing all well effected, made no long stay, but presently followeth, and brought him vnto the [Page] taue, where the Page with the Spaniard and Moore stayed: they presently mounted themselues, and away they go, pray­sing God for his deliuerance. The haste was made, is not to be forgotten, who neuer ceased gallowping vntill they came farre without daunger of the Towne, where night ouertaking them, they found place fit for their purpose, where they alighting, gaue God prayse, and refreshed them­selues awhile. Here the knight armed himselfe with his ar­mour, girding his sword of great woorth close to his side, which doone, they againe mounted themselues, and taking a course as they thought, farre from sight of any theyr olde acquaintance, or keeping any readie way for feare of en­tercepting, they trauailed by ayme. Two dayes, and some, what more well neare was spent, since their comming from Ioppa, when they met with a Moore, borne neare Al­geere, in Barbarie, who comming from Myca (the place wher their Prophet Mahomet was buried) was that day spoyled by a rout of Arabian theeues, which kept those moūtains. Of those spoyling people, the Moore warn [...]d the knight and his com­pany who were all dismaide at his tydings: yet by the most no­ble knight comforted, relying on his vallour, more then theyr owne manhood, they proceeded, trauailing all that day, yet ne­uer heard any newes of them. The next morning, the knight hauing taken some extraordinarie sleep, it was long be­fore they putte forward, when they had not ridden by theyr account one league, but they espied a crewe of horsemen which were so farre from them, on the side of a huge moun­taine, as they coulde well desearne. This sight caused the companie to doubt of some ensuing euill, which the knight perceiuing, againe incouraged them, so comforting those his companions with his spéeches, that they cast al feare apart, to take part with him that was not to be dared with euerie na­ked bug. In this mind continuing, these faint hearts looking a­bout them often in their trauaile (for feare they shuld be backed) they espied another rout, which had them in chase, acquainting the knight withal, of whō he took little care, but cōmanded them [Page] to holde on their way easily, that if they followed them, they might ouertake them, before the formost could come to helpe them.

Long had they not ridden, following the knights directions, but one of the gallants that pursued them, was come forward with them, who viewing their strength, which he supposed was far to weake to encounter them, began in scoffing tearmes to flout them, especially the knight which he saw armed.

Edward, which brooked all offences vnwittingly committed, and curteously reconciled, séeing the peremtorie doings of this base groome, drawing néere vnto him, said. Base fugitiue, who was thy schoolmaister that learned thée no more good: here after when thou chancest to méet strangers, salute them with more curtesie. And therewith all lifting vp his Battelaxe, gaue him so sound a blow on the head, as the brains started about his horse necke. And he hauing no power to sit, forsooke his horse, falling dead vnder his feet. His companie which saw him fall, and had noted the blow he receiued, gan all at once to assaile the knight, bending their launces vpon his breast, which like a man of power, and policie, he cunningly awarded, and drawing his curtelar, which before he had bathed in the luke warme gore of many those helhounds, he so behaued himself, that in few hours he left not many of them to stand: but leauing their horses mai­sterlesse, exchanged such as they be [...]t fancied, and left the rest to their owne libertie. The other companie, which from the top of the mountain had feene the feats of Armes done by the knight, thinking to rescue those that liued, and to reuenge those that were slaine, came amaine vpon them, sparing not their horse sides from the spurs, to learne them a swifter pace, (but in ill time) to soone came they to the after reckoning: for they were faine to pay the host, who gaue them such entertainment, as they had neuer power to depart from him, so honestly did this honour of knighthood deale with them, whom he found so cruel without cause offered them. In this companie there were foure Portugall marchants, whose Camils these villaines had spoy­led, taking their goods, and kept them captine, intending to sell [Page] them as slaues, to the first caua [...]liers of that countrey. These Marchants being vnder the charge of their horse-kéepers, left far off, séeing the ill successe of the robbers, made way for them­selues, recouering such weapons as the slaues had, from whō being cleare, they mainly followed the knight, crying vnto him for succor, and earnestly beséeching his fauor, which the knight perceiuing, caused the rest to stay, spurring his horse to méete them, to giue them rescue from the slaues that pursued them, from whom they fled with all the hast they could make, but with too slow spéed, for some of them were faine to stay behind their legs being too weake to carrie theyr bodies. The knight returning from spoil of those slaues, enquired of the marchants of whence they were, they answered of Portugall, and were bound for traffique, with an hundred Camils laden with spice and silke for Constantinople, of all which they had béene spoy­led by these villaines, of which fraternitie, there was as many more as he had slaine. The knight which saw the heauie coun­tenance of the poore Marchants, could not forbeare to pittie them, & commanded them to horse themselues, vpon the best of theirs which he had slaine, which done, taking care for their re­léefe of vittailes, for their horses, and for themselues, they were conducted to the place, where the store of those theeues lay, where th [...]y furnished themselues with such viands as they li­ued with. And after taking choyse of all maner of furniture, money, spice, and i [...]wels, so much as they pleased, they fired the rest, [...]nd departed, holding theyr iourney by the Portugals di­rections, who were verie well acquainted in those mountaines, applying still to recouer the holy Cittie of Ierusalem, neuer da­ring to enter any towne or place of force, as you shall hereafter vnderstand.

CHAP. XIIII.
How the Bashaw of Ioppa missing his prisoner, pursued him, and how he escaped.

NOw the couetous Bashaw, which had the custodie of this honourable knight, was perswaded by the Easterlings his friends, that the Bashaw of Silo, would giue for his prisoner, tenne hundred thou­sand Duckats. In hope of which, at their earnest suites he kept him aliue, sending his horse, armour, and furniture by them, vnto their Bashaw for a present (as besore you haue heard) but when he missed the Knight, the Page, and those Runa­gates, he was like in choler to haue slaine himselfe, by despe­ration to send his soule to the Diuell before his time, from which extremitie, no perswasion of his best and dearest friendes, might any way preuaile, but that in a furie he would mischiefe himselfe, séeing that by his too much trust, he was so deceiued of a prisoner, and a be [...]fellow of so much worth, as the Knight and his Page, whom he intended to yéeld to his pleasure.

The Bashaw which fared in such frantike maner, be­thinking him of all the Diuelish practises could bee intended, called to minde an auncient Nigromancer, which kept in the Mountaines, betwéene Ioppa and Rama, in the way to Ieru­salem. By this good fellow he thought to be reuenged, what soeuer it cost him, and so comforting himselfe in that hope, hee ceaseth his raging furie, dispatching two of his best ap­prooued friendes in search of this diuelish practiser, who vsed such diligence in their businesse, that in short time they found him, in whom this Bashaw reposed his whole confidence for reuenge.

This diuell incarnate, they intreated with all curtesie, and [Page] best pleasing speeches they could frame, to go with them to Ioppa, to the Bashaw, promising great summes of golde for his paine. But all th [...]r intreaties or perswasions preuailed ne­thing with him: if the Bashaw haue ought with him to do, he must be messenger himself, or surcease his businesse: which per­emptorie cours [...] of this Archdiuell, vnto the Bashaw made knowne by his friends, though he were in mind grieued at his denial, yet he wisely considered, how vainly he should spend his time in séeking reuenge on him. Wherefore, without any fur­ther trouble (accompanied with a garrison of Ienesaries, and his two friends for his guides) he set forward froin Ioppa, and in time conuenient, came before the Caue, where the Nigro­mancer kept, who knowing of his cōming, thought to be some­what pleasant with him, to trie his manhood. Whē the Bashaw had a while attended, & saw none stirring vnto whō to speake, he commanded a souldier to knocke: which done the Cuniurer transformed into the likenesse of a monstrous diuell, breathing [...]lames of fire from his nostrils, came out vnto thē, whose vgly shape caused them all to such feare, that they wished thēselues again in Ioppa, and were ready to take their héeles to be gone. But séeing their timerousnesse, hee tooke another way from them, and inuisibly returned into his caue.

Once againe making triall what was in them, tooke on him the forme of a little goate, thinking they woulde bee doing therewith, if any occasion should be offered them. To preuent therefore what danger in this disguise might insue, he annoyn­ted his head and body with an oyntment, which so hardned his skin, that no weapon wou [...]d pearce it.

This done, he issued againe amongst them, which durst not knocke anie more. And approching neare the Bashaw himselfe, began furiously to fling fire vppon him: which his companie séeing, armed them to his defence, whom the suppo­sed goate euer assailed with fire, sometime flinging on him so furiously, as hee woulde teare him in peeces, manie times clawing him, that he enforced him to runne away, leauing his message to do for which he came.

[Page] This coniurer when he had plaids his part with him, and saw that he would be gone, thought to speake with him, to sée how he liked his entertainment, and shifting him to his wea­ring apparrell, met him on the way, as if he had no knowledge of his being there.

The Bashaw his kinsmen which did know him well, when first they had sight of him, shewed the Bashaw, who comming towards him, after the countrey fashion saluted him, and a­lighting from his horse, bréefely tolde him the cause of his com­ming, beseeching his fauour and helpe for recouerie of the lost knight, for which he promised to reward him to his content.

The sorcerer which saw the enuie of the Bashaw in hope of gaine, promised him to do what art could, for accomplishing his will, crauing respit of time foure or fiue dayes, that hee might finde what way he tooke, which said, and they both ther­vpon agréeing, they take leaue each of other, whom to their di­uellish practise we leaue, returning to the Ladie Vallia.

CHAP. XV.
How the Emperors message being done to the duke of Ge­noway, for verie ioy of his daughters life he dieth, and what else chanceth.

HEre Gentles the storie sheweth vs of the Emperours safe arriu [...]ll in Rome, where the many courtesies offered to the Ladie was such (as well for her own sake, being daughter and haire to the noble Duke of Genoway, as for the loue and entire af­fection of the renowned knight of the Crosse, her honourable and beloued hus­band) that the Emperour thought himselfe greatly bound vnto all his nobles and communaltie, and highly contented the la­die his charge, for whose pleasure and content so much cost was employed. The recounting of each particular I omit, [Page] leauing the Ladie to the solitarie thoughts of her best beloued Lord, and her gracious father the Duke, from whom the Em­perour expected hourely the returne of the noble man, his am­ [...]assadour, who being as carefull of the charge to him commit­ted, spareth not his hard and diligent trauail, night nor day, vn­till he recouered the end of his long wished for iourney: which finished and come to the Emperours presence, prostrating him selfe on his knée, was most graciously welcomed of the Empe­rour, whom he questioneth of the Dukes health, and welfare of his state. The noble man which imagined how heauie the newes he had to report, would be to his highnesse, and all the hearers, humbly besought the Emperour to heare in secret what he had to deliuer, which the Emperour graunted, with­drawing himselfe of purpose, which done, he saith.

Tell me (noble friend) what chance hath befallen thée in this trauell of thine, and how fareth our honorable friend the duke. Gracious liege, and my deare Lord, answered this noble gen­tleman, to kéepe from your highnesse, what you must know in time, though with a heart full fraught with griefe, it cumbreth me greatly, to become the heauie messenger of such tragicke newes. Know (most excellent Prince) the duke hath left this life, to séeke the ioyes of the heauenly Hierarchie. The Empe­rour whose thoughts were surprised with heauinesse, hearing his long deferred answere to his questions, breathing out ma­nie sighes at the deliuerie of the same, with sighes and bitter teares (after he had a while lamented, with many mournefull cries, and pitifull shréekes, the Dukes death) he straitghly char­geth the noble man, to deliuer vnto him the time of his depar­ture from this world, and the cause: whether of any old griefe, or suddaine action: commaunding him (all dread set a part) to tell the truth.

The noble man (whose heauie heart by his outward sor­rowes might well appeare, thought hee could well haue sor­borne the reuealing thereof, yet not daring through silence, to incurre his highnesse displeasure he fayth. Most gracious so­ueraigne: thus, and in this maner, fared it with the duke at my [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [Page] first arriuall at his princely Court, who frollicke with the best, ioy [...]ull and pleasant to heare of your Maiesties health, as his loue might well appeare, by those welcomes I receiued from him, and his Nobles, by his commaund, of whom I was [...] intertained, as well might beséeme a state of great account and maiestie, reucrencing your highnesse, in those honours done me. But too soone (dread and excellent Emperour) was the gleaming ioyes of this courtly Nobilitie ouershad [...]wed, with mysts of direfull sorrow, chauncing by the dukes suddaine death, who as it is supposed by his people, most in account with him, ouer ioyed at your excellent kind tydings of his supposed lost child, surprised with a simphanie of exceeding gladnesse, left his honorable life, to the great heauinesse of his subiects, as wel his Nobles as Commons, who with most bitter and grie­uous complaints, spende their time in such continuall lamen­tation, as might moue the heart most hardest, with teares, to accompanie them.

The Nobles for the comfort of their Duke, with whome they were euerie where (onely there reuerend duetie reserued) companions in all exercises. The Commons hee oppressed not: the wronged, he by law iustlie restored to right: the wid­dow and fatherlesse, hee carefully prouided for: the maimed souldiour, most bountifully maintained. In briefe, (most excel­lent, and my gracious soueraigne) there is no state, no subiect, or any vnder his gouernment, which hath not great cause to implore the losse of this good Duke.

This dolefull discourse he finished with so déepe a sigh, as pressed teares from his ouer-grieued heart, which restraining his tongue, caused him to bée silent, and mooued the Empe­rour at his sorrow to shedde manie teares, which being sud­denlie ouerpast, the grieuing and most gracious Emperour, raysing the Noble man from the ground, louingly [...]mbrasing him, saide.

A tale of sorrowe, and much griefe hast thou deliuered, which mooued my heart [...] lament, the death of such a most ho­noured Prince, and to g [...]ieue for those subiects, whose l [...]s [...]e is [Page] so great. But tell mee, who gouerneth the Dukedome? and howe affect they the returne of the Princesse? Most gracious Low (answered this sorrowfull Noble man) the state by a ge­nerall consent, is in the rule of Don Sebastian Andrea, a Noble Gentleman, of graue countenaunce, verie politique, wise, and most noblie enclined, who forced vnto it by the im­portunate suite of the subiects of all estates, in most honou­rable sort carrieth himselfe: so that by his rule, their Prince late dead, is in iustice and all other good partes before remem­bred, little missing, to be equall onelie, the nobilitie of his house acknowledged: so that the happinesse of the Countrey is the more, in so prouident a gouernour. The like of whom, I har­tilie wish your highnesse, and all other Princes: for where such liue, which prysed honour, and the publike common weale, before their owne couetous and priuate commoditie, where lawes are not solde for Lords pleasures, nor bribes cor­rupt Iustices, where through the poore are oppressed, the C [...]mons vndone, and the state impouerished, there is G [...] honoured, and the Prince truly serued. And where such blessings b [...], there is loue of Subiects, and faithfull heartes to their princes. Well hast thou sayd (quoth the Emperour) and in thy speech hast comforted my spirites, to heare thée dis­course the honours [...] this noble Gouernour, whom I will ho­nour euer for thy honourable report: on which meditating, he committed the secrecie of his aunswere to the Noble man his great wisedome, loath that the suddaine newes shoulde anie way discomfort the Ladie, whose welfare he prised before his owne good. And so betaking the Emperour to his carefull stu­die for the Ladies quiet, and the noble Messenger to his repose amongst his friends, we returne againe to our noble Edward, who is now in the way to the holy Citie.

CHAP. XVI.
How the Knight of the holy Crosse, accompanied with the Portugals, and his other companions iournied to the citie of Ierusalem, and what happened them.

WHen the noble Edward had by his pro­wesse, and honourable feates of Armes, by death of those miscreants, released the Portugall Marchants from theyr cap­tiuitie, storing themselues with such needfull prouision, as they coulde con­ueniently carrie. They spedde them­selues with all the haste they could, to end their desired businesse, and fulfill their vowes in the holie Citie, kéeping the way continually by the Mountanes, with­out any aduenture happening, vntill one of the Easterlings, fell into such daunger of death, that there was no way to recouer him, which the pittifull Knight perceyuing, and ho­ping the best for his recouerie, making his stay to sée the end, what would become of him, hée applyed himselfe by all meanes to séeke his recouerie, which was past all remedie. In which extremitie, our braue English Caualere, playing the part of a heauenly Phisitian, comforted his weake pa­tient, in the promises of Christ Iesus, and his passion, ear­nestly perswading him, to remember his time euill spent in this worlde, and howe manie and grieuous sinnes hee had committed for any daunger, or hope of worldly promotions, to forsake his Sauiour, whose mercies was more to bée re­garded, then a legion of liues, or all the Kingdomes of the worlde.

In which comfortable wordes the distressed Easterling taking great pleasure, when the houre came of his latest farewell to the worlde, embracing the Knight betwéene his armes, when his faltring tongue had lost the vse of spéech [Page] he shewed by signes, the hopes he had to be a copartner of the heauenly kingdome, and therwithall refined his breath, whom after the Christian manner in those mountaines, they entered as they best could, which done (forrowing for the losse of him whom from death they coule not recall) they procéede on their iourney, in which they had not long trauailed, but resting them­selues in the desarts by a pleasant riuers side. The Moore which before hee had taken to attende their horses, discryed comming with great spéede towards them, a verie faire and beautifull woman, attired in a petticoate of crimson damaske, which was pursued by two Negroes slaues, which would vio­lently haue abused her bodie. This strange sight in a place so vncouth, when the Moore had shewed the knight, like himselfe mooued with pittie of distressed people, especially of her sexe, pre­sently mounted himselfe, and met her, whom he questioned of whence she was, and what moued her to flie so swiftly from those villians. The Lady whom feare had almost doomed to death, being in a gréeuous extasie, could not forbeare to shewe the sine of ioy by her iesture, albeit her heart restrained her tongue spéech, which the knight perceiuing, taking her in his armes, and brand ashing his sword, thereby shewing to re­uenge her wrong, he comforted her in such wise, as taking as­sured hope on him, which séemed by his habite to bee a christi­an, she said. Honourable knight, whom God hath raysed for the comfort of a poore distressed captiue, know that I am wife vnto a noble Grecian knight, called Mathatias, gouernour of Roades, who trauailing with a small traine to performe our religious vowes in the holy Citie, now two nights past, taking our lodging in these desarts, our tents pitched, and our guard hauing fire, as wel for our vse, to dresse and make ready our vi­ands, as to defend themselues from the wilde beasts that haunt these mountaines, a crew of cruell and most brutish heathen, that kéepe these places to disturbe the quiet of such passengers as they met, guided by the fire (as I said) came vnto our tents, whilst wee sléeping, dreaded neither them, nor any other euill. By those catiues was my most noble husband slaine, and such [Page] of our companie, as resisted their diuellish intents: which done, making mee their Captiue, they horsed mee, and to theyr h [...]llish man [...]ion lodde mee, with some of our followers, where perforce they woulde haue bereaft mée of that most pr [...]cious ornament which all good Women holde in more regarde then then theyr life: yet preserued by Gods fauour, my teares and pittious cryes did so penetrate the hearts of those homicides, that they haue pardoned mée that ill, vntill theyr returne from a spoyle which they haue vn­dertaken, meaning to visite theyr home within thrée or foure dayes, leauing mee to the custodie of their Vil­laines, who with more villanie haue menaced mée to ob­taine theyr pleasures, from whome hauing escaped by flight, I intreate you, that sheweth to be of gentle image, if thou bee no worse then thou séemest, eyther to preserue my chasti­tie from theyr rape by flaying mee, or like thy selfe, defende my innocencie, by auenging me on those accursed villaines that pursue me.

The Knight which during her long talke, had noted her gesture and modest demeanour, vttering her sadde lament, pittying her distresse sayde. Gentle Ladie, thy distresse my heart pittyeth, séeing thée in this vnfrequented place, so hardly besette with companions of base conditions, of whome feare not, for my selfe by the power of him that sent mée for thy comfort, will so reuenge thy iust cause, as well on these, as on theyr maisters, as they shall neuer take pleasure in wronging a Ladie anie more: and thereon assure you, as I am a Knight and a Christian. And with­out taking longer pawse, willing the Ladie to staye her there, without dread of any man, he mounted his horse, and with his Sworde pursued the villaines, who fearing him, fl [...]dde as fast as they coulde, but in an vnhappie time, for his legges be [...]ing of more swiftnesse, hee easily ouer­tooke them, paying them theyr due recompence for a fact so odious, w [...]th death. Which finished, cutting off theyr heades, hee brought them with him to the Ladie, who [Page] thanking God for her deliueraunce, rendered the like to the noble knight, vnto whome prostrating her selfe, shee submitted the care of her safetie, beséeching him as hee was a knight at armes, not to dishonour her, nor to leaue her vntill hée came where Christians inhabited. Vnto which, gaging his honour, by many solemne oathes, hee tooke her from the grounde, comforting her with all kindnesse, prote­sting withall, that he would not leaue those desarts vnsought, vntill hee founde the dead bodie of her Lorde, to interre him with Christian rites, and reuenge his death on the robbers.

The Ladie which [...]ounde such vnexpected comfort in her distresse, after shée hadde with many kinde requitalles of friendshippe, and shewes of loue, gratified the knight, breaking her from her protestations, hée caused her to mount his horse, conducting her to his Tentes, where theyr dinner, by those that helde him in more regarde then thier owne liues, was prepared, vnto whome the Ladie was welcome, wanting nothing of theyr store which was needfull, nor such honours as to her estate required. In this better content wée leaue them a while, with sundrie discourses to be­guile the time, to lette you knowe of theyr further aduen­tures.

CHAP. XVII.
Howe the Knight of the Holy Crosse in search of the dead body of Mathatias, gouernour of Roades, found him a­liue, with other aduentures.

THe remaine of that day and the night fol­lowing they spent in reposing themselues, the knight after he had taken such directi­ons for his course in search of the Gouer­nour, her husband, as she could giue, pur­uaying them of victuals for two dayes pro­uision, accompanied with two of the Port­tugall marchants, taking leaue of the La­die, and commending the trust of her safetie vnto the rest of his followers, he left them: posting from mountaine to mountain, prying and vewing where hee could discerne any Tent, or shew of any. So long rid he in this manner, that in the eue­ning, about the going downe of the Sunne, hee might discrie a troupe of Camilles laden, guarded with thrée or foure naked mountenaries, to these the knight spedde him in all the haste, making such way, that hée soone ouertooke them, whome encountring, hée sayde. Tell me villaines of whence yee are, yea, and where had yée these Camilles with those marchandize in your kéeping. The villaine mounte­ners hearing the knight vse these spéeches, vttered with a hoarse voyce and a looke threatning death, trembling as though they were readie to receiue their iudgement and present execution of life, kissing first the grounde, and after his féete, besought him to take compassion of them, rela­ting in what sort they hadde the Camilles, which they hadde taken from others which hadde them in charge, belonging to those Theeues which hadde spoyled the Lady of her hus­band.

[Page] The knight vnderstanding by theyr talke that they could giue him notice of the spoyled bodyes, questioned them further, commaunding them on paine of theyr liues, to tell him where the Christians were, that were lately maisters of those Camilles, in dooing which theyr liues should goo vntouched, or otherwise they should there finish their daies.

The villaines which would more willingly haue béene further off, when they sawe their liues was to bee saued for a matter of such small importaunce with them, sayde. The sunne hath not yet two times declined his power, since certaine Christians trauailing these mountaines, were encountred by robbers, that haue their continuall béeing not farre off, who slaying the people, left these Camilles and goods in possession of their slaues to conduct them to theyr caue, which wee haue slaine, and humbly beséech thée of pardon.

Recreants (quoth the knight) you shall not so escape me, but you shall likewise die, if you bring me not present­ly to the place where those slaughtered bodyes lie, where­fore I aduise you doo this and liue, or denying it receiue your deaths.

The villaines which sawe howe bootelesse it was to perswade, yéelded theyr consentes, and hastned with so good speede, that they shortly arriued at the place, where they founde the mangled carcases of the flaine Christians, welte­ring in their gore.

This pittifull sight mooued the knight of the Crosse to much ruth and sorrow for their deaths, yet knowing howe bootelesse teares are to call againe the dead, dismounting himselfe, hee suruayed the bodyes, turning, and so often tossing, to search the body of the dead gouernour, that with often remouing hee founde it, and viewing his personage, noting each linament, with his countenaunce, shewing a man of prowesse, bedewing his bloudie face with his warme teares, hee might perceiue a panting breath to pos­sesse [Page] him, vnto which taking good héede, washing his face, and clearing it from the congealed bloud, hee opened his iawes, powring into his mouth, of that wine which he brought for his prouision, and after rubbing & chafing his vytall powers, hee recouered his life: so comforting him with the heat of his hands, rubbing and other carefull handling, that his spirit waxing strong, his tongue had some vse, when looking gastly vp, as one reuiued from a new world, hée called for his Ladie, and missing her, taking good notice of the Knight, which was a straunger vnto him, he thus said. Noble Gentlemen, and my fréendes, what you are I know not, neither can I remember that euer I haue had any friendship with you, yet as you are Gentlemen, tell me of my Ladie, what is bec [...]me of her, whe­ther aliue or dead? next, what you are, whether fréendes, or those that brought me to this miserie?

The Knight whose heart was ouercome with suddain ioy, beholding the supposed dead to liue, and speak, answered: wor­thie and noble Gouernor of that most honoured Iland, know, we are Christiās as you are who hearing of thy distresse, haue vndertaken to finde thy body, supposed to be slaine, by spoylers of such as passe these mountaines, and here haue their residēce. Thy Lady I haue receiued from their tyrannie, and on their liues, haue reuenged the euill offered, by them vnto her, and by my maker, whose souldiour I am vowed, will not depart these desarts, vntill I be acquited, of all your wrongs, or loose my life in your causes. Therefore take comfort, and thanke God for your safetie, whom I doubt not, but will be so gracious to restore you: your wounds I will vndertake by Gods grace to recure, and deliuer in safetie your loue and Ladie: who liuing, dyeth with very sorrowe for your great mishap. The Gouernour hearing this comfort, well noating the manlike countenance and corage of the Knight, bending himselfe vnto him, rendered many heartie thankes for those kinde fauoures, and embracing the Knight as his weake arms would giu [...] him leaue, protested by the faith and honour of armes, for euer to become a firme freende and faithful coepart­ner [Page] of his aduentures, so pleased him to accept of his loue and fellowship.

The Knight whome no Spaniard could match, eyther in courtesie or honour of Armes, taking his proffered loue as kindlie as they were offered, gaue him many heartie thankes. Then dressing his woundes with such comfortable Balmes as he had, and binding them safe, they horsed him, pa­cing easily towardes the place where his company made their stay: where by the prouidence of him, who is the strength and conduct of all those that trust in him, they arriued in safetie, though not before they were lookt for, accompanied with their tenis, camills, and their carriages, to the excéeding ioy of the Ladie, and the vnspeakable comfort of all his owne followers. Theyr fréendly embrasings, and other talke of their fortunes, passing betwéene the Gouernour and his Lady, I omit: to re­count what other aduentures happened to them.

CHAP. XVIII.
How the Knight of the Holy Crosse, accompanied with the Easterling and his Page, followed the robbers: with his aduenture.

FAmous Edward, the honour of his coun­trey, whose vallour was not not to bee matched, helde his countreyes reputati­on in more regarde then his life, where­on now standing, scorning the Spaniards braues, or the scandall that might ensue by his report, if hee should leaue them in such wise without reuenge, which he had promised: wherefore preferring his noble word, early in the morning, according to the directions he had giuen, taking leaue of the gouernour and his Ladie, accompanied with his Page and the Easterling, he sette forward in search of those bloudie minded reprobates, following the direction of one of the vil­laines he had last taken, whom he taketh for his guide, all that day riding without any aduenture hapning, yet wearied with trauaile, desirous to refresh himselfe with taking some sléepe, hee caused his Tent to bee prepared, and his viandes to bee ordained: and when hee had refreshed himselfe, not daring to committe the trust of his person, to so vile a slaue, which was not to be trusted. After theyr horses were vsed as they ought, he commaunded the slaue to be bounde, taking order with his companie that one should watch whilst the other slept, and to take diligent care of their welfares, that they were not surpri­sed at vnawares.

This charge the carefull attendaunts faythfully kept and performed, the day appearing, they loosed the Vil­laine from his bondes, ordering the horses and each thing [Page] in readinesse: which done, they awaked the Knight, who sée­ing the morning well spent, was not long preparing, but hast­ning with all the spéede he might, betooke him to his intended pursuit of those homecides. So long they trauailed, that y^e heat of the day encreasing, they alighted, and seating them close on the banke of a pleasant riuer (taking such viands as they had, merrily spending the time with pleasant parlie) they might per­ceiue those gallants, who returning from the death of a hea­then Prince, and spoyle of his people, missing their Ladie, vowed by all their gods neuer to surcease their trauaile, vntill they had recouered knowledge of her. For which, coursing like men possest with a furie in pursuite of the Ladie, the knight hath gained his desires, who requi [...]ing of the slaue what they were, mounted on such swift coursers: he recounted vnto him what they were, aduising him to regarde himselfe, and to flie while he had time, for that they were many, and men of great puissance, hauing done many great outrages, and surprised sundry troupes of gallant men, trauailing that way. Peasant (quoth the knight) it is not thy spéech of their valour that can daunt me, or cause me to turne my backe, vpon those diuelish companions. But as I am a Knight, and a true English man, or euer haue hope to beholde my natiue Country, were they a thousand to my selfe alone, armed as I am, in the name of my God, and hope of my rightful cause, I would assaile them. And so arming himselfe, chearing his Page, and his associates, hee mounted his horse, couching his staffe in his rest, he put for­wardes to meete the companie of robbing théeues, who was no sooner espied of them, but without word speaking most furi­ously they all assailed him, who were all so well resisted, and so eagerly encountred of the Knight, as they had small cause to boast them of their gaines. Euerie blow, with blow, redoubled this noble Brytaine on the robbers, doing such feates of honor and chiualrie, that it amazed them to see: but more terrified they were, that must of force abide his furie, who sparing not his strength, laide on them with such courage, crying Saint George, that after many sharpe alarums on either [Page] part, many of th [...]n were sent to séeke their passeports in hell. Thus our noble knight encouraged with the hope of victorie, so behaued himselfe, that they were all well neare brought to ende. The Captaine of which route, with foure others his con­federates, being men of valour, and resolution, séeing the mas­sacre of their companie, sought to reuenge their bloods with their greatest power. And enclosing him on each side, layde about them in such manner, that the Knight was by them greatlie endaungered. In this assault was his horse slaine, when fighting a foote, espying his best aduauntage, he gored their horses as they came, and gaue them that their mothers neuer prouided for them: yet in despite of what hee coulde doo, as the mightiest manie times bee forced to yéelde, fighting on the grounde, and in the greatest daunger of life. The Page which singled himselfe from the broyle, wherein hée left the Easterling, bestirred him, whereby hee had leaue to breathe, and being somewhat refreshed, reaching violently one of the robbers by the legge, pulled him perforce from his horse, mounting himselfe thereon, and dashing out his maisters braines with his héeles.

The Knight nowe againe mounted, so bestirred him, in that the most brauest of them that liued, coulde well haue affoorded to béene further off, but they which are bounde must obey. The game was nowe vied, and they must néedes sée it. So long vied and reuied was it by the Knight, that not one was left to count the stake.

The broyle ended, and euerie act in this massacre per­formed, the Knight beholding those brauing hell-houndes, weltering in their blood, first thanking God for his fauour, in strengthening him in that distresse, resting himselfe after his wearie trauaile, hee disarmed himselfe, refreshing his wea­rie bodie for a time: which done, he hasteneth him vnto the place where they Gouernour and his Ladie remained, whom in the companie of his beloued wife was comforted, where with great ioy he was welcomed, to all his folowers, who with the Ladie, ceased not to pray for his good successe.

[Page] Thus leaue wee this frollicke companie, ioying in the good fortunes of the Knight, who reposed him selfe with those friendes, vntill the Gouernour had recouered his full strength, to trauaile, when leauing the desartes, they pro­céeded on theyr iourney to the Cittie of Ierusalem. In which trauaile wee leaue them, to shewe you the fortunes of the noble a [...]d vertuous Ladie Vallia, remaining with the Emperour in Rome.

CHAP. XIX.
How the Lady Vallia, sorowing for the death of her father, trauelled with childe, and what then chanced her.

NOwe the time and place of the Hystorie serueth vs to leaue the noble Edwarde and his companie, to let you heare of the vertuous Ladie Vallia, who trauailing with womens ordinarie griefe, had not long to looke of her time, wherein shee expected an heyre so the woorthie knight of the Crosse: which caused the Empe­rour to detaine the heauie tidinges of her fathers death from her. But as nouelties haue wings, and flie with the light breath of euerie tatling tongue: so this lamentable storie came vnto the eares of Vallia, who for her recreation and pleasure, walking in a Parke adioyning to the Pallace, was encountred by a simple Souldiour, who hauing lost his limmes in seruice, awayted to impart his suite vnto the Emperour for reliefe.

With this Souldiour, the Ladie questioning what ser­uices hée had séene, as one that had knowledge of many honou­rable seruices done, but especially glad to heare of her Lord and husband, whose demaunds the Souldiour answered with much courage, not letting for his owne good to vtter all: in which his spéech, declaring the woorthie conquest of Philip [Page] her father (where he was,) a suddaine feare so possest him, that his tongue with griefe denied further speech: which of the Lady béeing perceiued, mooued with pittie of his sorrow, enquired diligently what mooued him on such a suddaine to stay his talke, beginning now the most delight, willing him to say on whatsoeuer he had: for sure she was, that nought but honou­rable should be said of her father, or her loue, who was with him in all those seruices.

This blunt companion recomforted by her honourable counsell, and good encouragement, séeing hee must vtter his hearts greefe, albeit hee had no thought or knowledge to whom he spake it, after some small pause, he said. Pardon me, gracious Ladie, for my heauie tidings, and account me no da­stard for daring to speake, what is my hearts griefe, to vtter the subiect of my tragicall swonding sorrow, to all the hearers. For the losse of our noble generall, whose vntimely death hath caused such heauinesse and hearts discontent amongst all those of his gouernment, that will neuer bee blotted from theyr mindes, so long as any one breatheth that did know him. The sorrowfull Ladie hearing these dolefull tidings of her fathers losse, could not answere his talke, nor had power to speake, but as one readie to leaue this life, presently fell in a traunce to the grounde, whome her gréeued attendants Alynda, and the rest, by their carefull industrie reuiued againe, though with much extremitie. The poore souldiour which saw howe ill his talke was taken, brooked no longer stay in that place, doubting his Princes displeasure, but got him from the Cit­tie with all spéed.

Vallia her suddaine gréefe vrged her paines, that her Midwiues were sent for, and with great perill of life, was not long after, deliuered of two goodly Sonnes, whose sight, and other comfortable perswasions of the Emperour, and those Ladies that were about her, remooued a little her hea­uinesse, which shée most honourablie endured to all theyr ioyes, for this good fortune of the Ladie, solemne Processi­ons were made, Belles were rung, and Bonefices were [Page] plentifull throughout the Citie, with all other shewes and signes of gladnesse that might be deuised. But to whom so euer these two newe borne Gentlemen was most welcome, there coulde none take more pleasure in beholding them, then the Emperour, who woulde neuer haue anie time from his af­fayres of state, but the Nurces were sure of his companie, to their ioy, and pleasures. In this ofspring I leaue them, to recount the accidenis happening in Genoway.

CHAP. XX.
Howe Albert Duke of Millaine, hearing of the death of Philip Duke of Genoway, supposing his Daughter to bee dead, made claime to the Segnorie, and what chaunced.

WHen the high commander of men, had by death taken from his Countrey the hope and comfort of this most louing and ho­nourable Prince, Philip Albert, Duke of Mill [...]ine, swelling with ambition, to [...] [...]ouernement, s [...]osing Vallia [...] heyre of Philip, to be [...]: first summo­ned the Vicegerent by his Heralde, to [...], and the little he had, for their soueraigne, or abide the chaunces of warres, which with al the power, both of him and his friends, he would presently inflict vpon them.

This peremptorie message deliuered, the Vicegerent ha­uing care to his oath and promise made, summoned the Nobi­litie, and gouernours of each port, within those confines, vnto whom hee recounteth the message receiued from the Millaine Duke, with all the large circumstances, declaring his title to be but vsurped, and desiring their aydes in the right of the La­die Vallia, heyre and lawfull inheritrix of their late deceased Lorde, whome they should most highly wrong, if dastardlie [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [Page] they should intitle another in her right. Therefore my Lordes and louing friendes, (quoth the Gouernour) shewe in main­teining the honour and right of this Ladie, your loue to her father, in which you gaine more loue and honour, then to be in­uested with title of great worth. For no greater blemish can be to the Noble, then to bee tearmed a cowarde, especiallie in a cause of such honour as this. Therefore, if you will ioyne with mée in full consent, estéeme his threates not woorth a pinne, and prouide to giue him such a welcome, as is fitte for an enemie.

The Nobles and all estates there assembled, hearing the honourable resolution of the Gouernour, with gene­rall consent lawding his magnanimitie, committed them­selues vnto him, promising on their honours, to main­taine with their bodies, goods, liues, and landes, whatsoeuer he resolued on.

This willingnesse with generall consent when the Go­uernor had seene and heard first giuing them all hearty thanks for their honourable loue to their Princesse, and carefull re­gard of their common wealth, which they were all bounde by oath to the Church, as well as the figniorie to maintaine. After some other spéech, he caused the Millaine herauld to be brought before them, to whom he saith: Herauld, thy message from thy Lord so peremptorily sent, and by thée deliuered, with graue aduise of the whole state of our Prouince, we haue ad­uisedly considered. And finding by lawe, or natures right, hee hath no right nor iust interest in the same, wee haue determi­ned to denie his demaunde, and with our déerest bloud will maintaine the lawfull issue of our late deceassed Duke Phi­lip, whose honourable deserts can not bee so suddainlie worne out. Thou knowest what wee intende, if thy Lord bee friend to vs, and our state, wee will requite his loue with the like againe, if a foe, hee shall find that Philippes rightfull inheritour shall not bée wronged, so long as wee shall liue. And so finishing his spéech, the Heraulde thus replied.

[Page] Nobles of Genoway, whose grauitie is spoken of in all places, deceyue not your selues by presumption. My Lord is puissant and mightie, and not to bee dared by them of farre greater and more force then you: wherefore weighing your owne goodes, and welfare of your Countrey and state, con­sider with whome you are to deale, his honour, state, power, and what is to bee requyred in Maiestie, bethinking what a friend hee is to his friendes, and what a terrour to his enemies. In weighing all which I doubt not, but your gra­uitie and wisedome will alter these fonde resolutions, before you prouoke him to furie, least when you woulde submitte your selues, hee bee as farre of from hearing you, as you at peremptorie in refusing him. In your aunswere, consider your welfare, or subuersion. Therefore let not ouerboldnesse leade you to mischiefe: I speake as I wish, that you might preuent your owne mischiefes.

The Gouernour hearing the Herauld speake so much of submission, as though his Lordes countenaunce might terrifie and affright them, euen as Bugbeares do children, thus sayde.

Heraulde, what weenest thou wee of the state of Ge­noway are, that thus thou menacest vs with thy maisters high actions, power, and friends? Is Albert become such a Bugge to feare his bordering neighbours? No, let him dare children and fooles, with his threates. If hee come as a friend, as hee did when our good Philip liued, he shall bee welcome: if otherwise, it is neither power, friendes, nor his valour wee estéeme. Our honour wee will maintaine in despite of his Bearde, maugre all the friendes Spaine, or Ita­lie can affoorde him. And so thou hast thy aunswere: replie no more: for what wee say, we will performe on our ho­nours, as thy Lorde shall finde, when hee dares make triall.

The Heraulde hauing his aunswere, like a Male-con­tent, dooing his dutie, deprated. The Noble and states of Ge­noway, taking carefull order for the mustering of theyr [Page] souldiers, and making force, that there enemie might not take them sléeping, but alwaies in readinesse, when occasion shoulde serue to defende themselues, and offende the ene­mie.

CHAP. XXI.
How the Herald returning his answer from the Ienowaies, Albert puruaied his armies.

THe Millaine Duke expecting his Heralds re­turn, with the Genowaies offer of obedience, after long looking, arriued at the Court, to whom the Duke gaue honorable welcomes, enquiring the answere to his Ambassage. To whom the Herald at large recounted the ho­nourable resolution of the gouernour, who would not deliuer their tytle of gouernment to any stranger whatsoeuer, willing him to rest content, or abide what chance warre will alot him.

The Millaine Duke raging with furie, at this vnexpected answere: vowed by no simple oathes to reuenge him on the go­uernour, whom he threatned with great afflictions, if hee pre­uailed: And hasting to sée the euent of his determinations, pre­sently dispatcheth his Ambassage to Florence, the prowesse of Marcellus and Telone, and other his fréendes, for theyr ayd in this exployt, willing them to be readie by a day prefixed, at some port of his, to them best beséeming good, and most easie for their conuay. With these letters, the messengers being gon, great was the preparation made in his owne territories, of men, victualls and munition, whereof there wanted none, such as the Countrey yéeldeth. Such was the hast and care of those vnto whom the charge of those affaires were committed, that in short time, althings were prouidedin such good order as could be besired, their onely stay was, for their expected power, [Page] which accordingly was puruaide, some marching by lande, others with theyr prouision by Sea, so that in short time they are all well met, at Millaine, where they made no long staye, but euery man receiuing his charge.

The companies appointed for the land, marched forwards in thrée battailes, the foremost of which, was led by the Duke of Florence, the vauward by the gouernour of Marcellus, and the Rereward, by the Duke of Millaine, who hadde vnder his conduct, all the horsemen, with the carriage and prouision. For the Sea seruice, was appointed for to bee Admirall, Alfonce Earle of Pyemont, hauing vnder his charge of Gallyes, Bregandines and Foystes, one hundred and fiftie sayles, warlike and well appoynted, with all néedefull prouision, hauing also vnder his charge, a num­ber apprdoued and Noble Captaines, trayned to the Sea, all carrying mindes of resolution to inuest theyr Noble Fréende the Duke of Millaine, in his challenged Duke­dome.

The Genowayes, whose prouident care was to pro­uide for their Countries safetie, was not ydle in all these times: but making readye what power they coulde, both of theyrowne, and such other Fréendes as they could pro­cure, relying on the Iustice of their cause, and nought at all fearing the multitudes of theyr enemies, of whose numbers they were all aduertised by theyr owne Espy­alls.

The carefull regarde of the Gouernour, hadde so wrought, that all things were ordered to his content, his Fréendes, the Neapolitan Duke with his powers béeing come, and all others that they expect, theyr Gallies and shippes furnished, the conduct of each seuerall companie was appoynted to men of woorth and honourable resolu­tion, who encamped themselues with wonderfull great polly­cye without the Cittie, euen in the enemies chéefe pas­sage.

[Page] Their power of shippes and gallies likewise appoynted at poynt deuice, a Councell was called, and the Admirall sworne in the open assemblie not to yeeld, nor in any sort to discontinue the fight, but taking all aduantage, to doo his best for theyr defence, and discomfiting of the enemie. This doone, and the shippes halled foorth, they harboured euery man being aboord, that they hadde charge of. They chéered theyr companie, exhorting them to valour and courage, not omitting often to recounte the right cause of defence, with the enemies entrucion, with all other perswasions that might tend to their encouragement, to the great comfort of al the com­panie, who with one voyce yéelded signes of great ioy, vow­ing euerie one to the other, to liue conquerours, or die tenne thousande deaths, rather then incurre the odious name of coward.

Thus chéering themselues with hope of victorie, with a ringing peale of cannons, that made the ayre rattle, and the earth to shake, they sette sayle, bidding theyr friendes a short farewell, who attending theyr enemies comming, wée leaue them houering at the sea for a time, till they méete againe.

CHAP. XXII.
Howe the two armies meeting at sea, the Millaine Duke with his power was discomfited.

THese honourable Armies well appoin­ted, both by lande and Sea, a generall expectation was made on both sides, for their méeting, wherein each one hoping for victorie, wished for to sée the euent of theyr fortunes (long loo­ked for commeth at the last) and time [Page] hath brought the two fléetes in sight one of the other, which descried, all pollicie was wrought for the aduantage in the fight, wherein those gallants of Genoway shewed their best skill, keeping in despight of the Millaine armie, the winde, and in great brauerie halled the enemies with their warlike musicke, in such sort, that the skyes resoun­ding the ecchoes of theyr noyse, which was not vnaunswe­red by the Millaine fléete, made as gallant a shewe as the o­ther, where some time was spent in tryumph betwéene them, and the Gallies and shippes within shot, their pro­wesse with great courage was discharged, and euerie man with such weapon as he vsed did his best.

Long time and much powder was spent on both sides, with much effusion of bloud, eyther parte doubtfull of the victorie, which the Generall of the Genowayes percei­uing, halling his Viceadmirall, and the Admirall and Vice­admirall of each Squadrone, with a flagge of parley, they drewe neare vnto him to heare what hee hadde to saye, who charged them vppon their allegiance, without anie more forbearing or consuming of time, to boord withall spéede euerie man as hee coulde haue aduantage, and so to make quicke and short tryall of their fortunes.

This counsell of the generall was welc [...]me to euerie man, who were verie gladde and ioyfull of that commaun­dement, which was that which they expected, for they atten­ded but to sée him, béeing aduised to follow his deceiuers. And thereuppon forcing theyr Gallies by maine strength of Oares aboord, with great courage and vallour they gaue this onset, in which was many feates of honour and armes atchieued, where many a man of woorth left his life, o­thers lost theyr limbes, and many spoyled and wounded to the death. The Gallies fired, and diuers sunke, all hazards that daye were with great perrill espaped, after many bloudie strokes and much other mischiefe on both [Page] sides, the houre of the victorie befell the Genowayes, who tooke their Admirall gallie, flew their chiefetaine, and burned and sunke many of the rest, such good successe followed their iust cause, that fewe of their enemies escaped without great hurt from the fight.

The fight ended, night approaching, a retreat by the Admi­rall was sounded, which doone, a view was taken of the priso­ners, and the gentlemen and commanders of the Millenaries, sent aboord the generall, for the rest order was giuen, that they should remaine aboord their seuerall gallies, which done, a ge­nerall laude was giuen to God for their victorie, and euery one following the course of the Admirall, they made their way for Genoway, and in short time with the diligence of the Cap­tiues, and good encouragement of the commanders of each gallie, they had sight of their port, and not long after recouered the same, where their ioies were increased by the sight of their friendes happie returne, as by their solemne shewes of glad­nes was manifest, to the great encouragement of al the aduen­turers, and increasing of the prisoners great gréefe, who made such sure account to tryumph in their ouerthrowes, and like Lords to command ouer them, nowe to be subiect to their ene­mies. Thus their heauie sighes bewraying their sorrow, the generall of the fléete moued with pittie of their care, beeing a man very debonaire and kind, with a countenance ful of pittie, his bonnet vayled, came vnto the caualleres, perswading them to comfort themselues, and to extend this vnexpected chance as one of fortunes bandies, whose inconstancie was not to bée wondered at, for (quoth he) they that gaine to day, may loose to morrow, the fortunes of warres are difficil, a cleare conscience and a iust cause armeth men with courage, & they that fight in right are often fortunate. Our cause God hath righted, whom your duke sought to wrong: he is the giuer of victory, to whom bee all glorie. Yet gentlemen (quoth he) dismay not, neyther clogge your hearts with too much care of your bad fortunes, you are fallen into the hands of a kinde and most noble enemie, who will well intreate you, and for mine owne part, which am [Page] at the Gouernours commaund, I assure you, your ransomes shall be so easie as you shall like well of.

The Milleneres captiue hearing theyr kinde enemie vse such wordes of comfort, where hee might menace with death and cruell reuenge, béeing at his mercie, with courtesie re­turned great thankes for his most friendly counsell and good perswasions, vowing themselues his obedient prisoners, neuer to departe, or offer any manner of discourtesie in worde or action, vntill they were lawfully licensed so to doo. Which worde the Generall accepting, each man had frée libertie within the Cittie, to goe at his or theyr plea­sures.

CHAP. XXIII.
How the Armies by land meeting, what happened them.

AS God sent the sea power of these Prin­ces to trie first theyr forces, so not long after theyr armies approaching, the Millaine Duke beeing aduertised by his espialles of their readinesse, hearing of the ill succesle of his fléete, loath to putte all on hazard without some more pause and resting his people which were verie sore wearied with theyr long and hard trauaile, for which cause, as well to consult with his leaders and copartners, hée caused his Tents to bee picht, giuing good directions for sure watch to bee kept throughout the Campe: which done, and they hauing reposed themselues that night, the next day a parley by flagge was sommoned, wherein euerie man was heard, both for aduise in marshalling the Ar­mie, as for pollicie in surprising the enemie, where in each mans opinion sayde, the Duke melancholike for his ill successe and losse of his fléete was so malcontent, that no­thing might be said wherein he tooke pleasure: yet gaue he leaue [Page] to euerie one to say his mind, which humours nothing conten­ting his nobility and such as were drawne thither by his cause, loath that his headstrong humours should dishonour them, the Ferr [...]ra Duke, as one that might be most bold with him, sayd. Cosin of Millaine, for your sake wee haue gathered bordering neighbours, maintaining no iust cause of our owne, but your intended quarrell, wherein if wee reape any dishonour, wee haue our deserts, Ledde by your counsell wée haue béene, as shéepe to bée slaine, and now hauing hadde a little crosse, dis­may you, that our people séeing your discomfort, may leaue vs héere in the middest of our enemies. It is dastardlike to feare in such a cause, and may bréede all our euerthrow: wherefore resolue eyther to maintaine your honour, and with resolution finish what you determined before our comming from our owne homes, or on mine honour, I will drawe my forces againe to theyr owne habitation, and leaue you to your best fortunes: say therefore your intent, for wee may not heere long continue, the enemie béeing strong, and in their owne confines, where wee are strangers, assu­red of no fauour, but what wee can purchase with the sword.

The Millaine Duke hearing his cosin of Ferrara so plaine, thought best to make shewe of good content, what­soeuer hee thought, wherefore without longer pausing, as one that in that extremitie desired some counsell, hee sayde. Most honourable cosin, pardon mee, that haue not shewed my selfe in this action as I ought, and consider the cause I haue of discontent, which hath made mee forgette my honourable good friendes: yet good Cosin, dishonour me not so much to adiudge me of cowardize, for euer my heart hath abhorred that odious fault: but what your pleasure is to attempt, I will performe, and thereon giuing his worde of honour. The Duke consented to his will, who gaue in charge the next morning euerie man with his companie to bee marching by the breake of day, that lying neare the anemie, th [...]y might by theyr sedaine scaties see what aduantage [Page] there was to be gotten.

According to whose commaunde euerie thing was effected, and the companyes marched neare to the Cittie, within halfe a league where the Genowayes campe laie, where they strongly en scanced themselues, and hauing ta­ken three or foure dayes respit, wherewith theyr compa­nie was well refreshed, a Herauld was sent from the Gouernour of Genoway, to knowe the cause of their com­ming in armes, against the lawes of Christian Princes, to disturbe their peace, hauing no iust cause so to doo, commaunding him and his friends, confederates, and fol­lowers, either to rayse theyr campe and be gone, or prouide them to battell, and therein trie the euent of eythers for­tunes.

The Millaine Duke hauing attentiuely hearkened to the Heraulds message, mooued with choller at his brauing spéech, without regarde of honour or lawe of armes, hadde like to haue beaten the Herauld, but beeing perswaded by the Duke of Ferrara from so vnhonourable a fact, he sayth. Herauld, goo tell that vsurping Gouernour of my right, that I am come to chastise his insolencie, and learne him to knowe his dutie to his leige Lorde, neyther shall any one of his rebellious companions escape the furie of my wrath, without they come presently in submissiue man­ner, and acknowledge their fault and great offence com­mitted against mée, which if they refuse, by that time the sunne hath wise made h [...]r recourse about the earth, I will méete him, and those sléeping curres his companions, in the plaine that lyeth Eastward from the cittie, so God say Amen. Therefore depart, my word shall be thy safe concuct for this tune.

The Herauld hauing his answere, without long stay hast­neth to the campe, where vnto the gouernour and his com­peeres in armes, he recounted the Dukes resolute determina­tion, willing him to prepare against the time appoynted [Page] to meete him, wherewith the gouernour and the rest were all well pleased, committing theyr cause to God, and rely­ing on theyr iust Title. And thus resoluing to méete him at the time and place appoynied for the same, hee present­ly gaue order to dislodge his Campe, to drawe more neare the place by the Duke appoynted, sending his most ex­pert men at armes to viewe the grounde, for theyr best aduantage, which with great care was so accomplished, that the sunne nor enemie could not greatly annoye them. The Millaine Duke and his accomplises carefull of what they hadde in hande, slept no time, but with great care and regard, procéeded with theyr companies more neare the place appoynted, where all things framed by marshall discipline and good aduise of the Captaines, they expect a happie day of tryall.

Time that finisheth all things, hath brought the ap­poynted day, in which the carefull leaders so busilie em­ployed themselues, that all things were ordered in most ho­nourable and decent manner, where no pollicie of eyther part was omitted for the aduantage: which doone, and the battailes readie to ioyne, a Herauld was sent from the Gouernour of Genoway, willing him before hee com­mitted the iustice of his cause to the battaile, to call to minde the iustice of God, in deliuering his sea powers in­to their handes, wishing him not so much to dishonour his noble house and followers, to hazard all to fortune. If hee woulde accept this proffer, and confesse the wrong offered his estate and commons, hee would remit the iour­ney past, and giue him frée leaue to passe in quiet through his countrey, if not, and hee preuailed, hée should finde in iustice what it is to disturbe the quiet gouernment of so peaceable an estate.

This message deliuered, the Duke fretting at the Gouernours kinde and courteous motion, sware by no small power, to acquite his pride, and learne him to knowe to his great greefe, what it is to mooue his [Page] Prince to furie, and so with a sh [...]rt replie to his message, sent the Herald away.

Scantly had the the Herau'd recouered the Pauillion of his Lorde, but a Braueado was made by the Forara Duke, who was the first that began the sight, and was gallantly en­countred with the Duke of Naples, who met him hand to hand, each knowing other by theyr colours. Betwéene those Princes began a fierce and deadlie fight, who singling them­selues, both hoping of honour, so applyed theyr forces one a­gainst the other, that it was doubtfull whether should haue the glorie of the day. Both of them by their prowesse giuing courage to their followers, betwéene whome many hardie feates of armes were atchieued, the battell on both sides bée­ing very doubtfull. In this conflict, the two Dukes like Ly­ons, beare themselues, vntill the Ferara Duke, with long continuance of the fight, fell from his horse, who was present­ly rescued by a Band of his owne companie, that in the par­ting, had like to haue slaine the Duke of Naples, if the Duke his enemie had not béene more honourablye minded, that rescued from daunger by his fréendes, hée left the fielde that time. Night growing on them, a retreat was sounded on eyther part, and euery man withdrew them to theyr Tents: in which battell, was taken many Prisoners, on eyther part, which by compremise of the Gouernors of both paprts, was redeliuered. Thus for a time wée leaue them to their repose, and hopes of theyr good successe, to tell you of the Princesse Vallia.

CHAP. XXIIII.
How the two childrē of the lady Vallia was solemnly christ­ned, with other aduentures.

THe most renowmed and noble minded Emperor, deuising to honour the Christ­ning of the two children, had inuited all the nobilitie and Princes néere bordering on his confines, to be witnesses of that so­lemnitie, appointing for that time, great tryumphes to be performed: and for that purpose, caused challenges to be set vp, a­gainst all commers, to be maintained by his champions, the winners to haue rich rewards.

The day of solemnitie béeing come, many Princes and Noble personages assembled themselues to the Tryumph, the Emperor in person, being Godfather to both the sonnes of the Knight of the holy Crosse: vnto whome, many rich presents were giuen, by sundry Princes, that honoured and loued theyr Father.

At these bankets, amōg many others which harkned of forrain nouelties, Alinda, busying her self to heare, & ouerheare strāge tidings, heard two noble gentlemē discourse of the state of Ge­nowaye, recounting at large, the honorable demeanor of y^e Go­uernor thereof, & his successe, in their sea aduentures, with each particular chance, happening in these warres, which waited of Alynda, that néeded no oratour to tell her tale, her tongue carrying a heauie waight, vntill shée had opportunitie to re­ueale the same vnto her Ladie: which shée sought, yet could not obtaine it, vntill late in the euening, when euerye Guest had withdrawne themselues to rest: when hauing time fit to her desire, shée beganne first in pleasant motions to féele the humour of her Ladye, whether pleasantly [Page] or melancholie disposed, and finding her pleasant humour, shée saide. Madame, since the heauie tydings from Genoway, I haue not séene one pleasant motion possesse you, lette mée your olde seruant, intreat this fauour at your hands, to saye, what you coulde well frame your féeble and vnable handes to doo, in defence of your owne rightfull inheritance of Geno­way?

Alinda (quoth the Princes) thy fond prattle will neuer bée left, what mooueth these suddaine motions, and recounting Genoway, say, what occasions are offered in those parts, I pray thée say?

Madame (quoth Alinda) your Ladiship alwaies is plea­sed to mistake me, and my simple meaning, what I intende héerein, is nothing, you knowe I am none of those that séeke common: wealthes benifit, but say good Madam, that I were, as I am neuer like to bée, the rightfull heyre to the Dukedome of Millaine, and should by violence séeke to vsurpe your right in your Dukedome by force, what duest you doo for defence of your selfe and your people? Alinda (quoth the Princesse) séeing thou sayest thy talke begunne is in ieast, I will as héedlesly an­swere thy demands.

Suppose Alinda to be my enemie, and in Armes in my Countrey, spoyling my commons, and ruinating my Countrey, thou mightest well accuse mee of cowardise, if in Armes I should not méete thée, reuenging my iust cause on my enemie: for thus, and in this manner, would I chastice the Millaine Duke: laying good stroakes on the backe of her mayden, with a cudgell, which shée easily found. Which chaftisment that she could well demeane her self, turned in this maner. Madam, if to be Duke of Millaine, be so painefull, and that to a vsurper, there belong such punishment, lette them bee Dukes that list, Alinda will be her self as long as she can. Thē good Duke of Millaine aunswered the Princesse, I am verye sorye that I shoulde so suddainlye vntytle your grace: but vppon some conditions, I will make your Maiestie recom­pence.

[Page] Madame quoth Alynda, promotion I féele is heauie, the name of Duke is imprinted I feare me in blacke and blew on my shoulders. But since they be badges of your Ladiships co­lours, and your gift, in hope of better I must accept these. But may it please you to let me know your conditions, that liking thereof, I may deserue your reward. I marie Alinda (quoth the Princesse, but first sweare vnto me to answer iustly my de­mands, and then aske thy reward.

Alynda hearing the Princesse so pleasant, was loath to hinder her begnune myrth: but féeding her vaine, of put her from those dampes, said.

Madame, since it is your Ladiships pleasure to bring mée from a zealous prophesier, vsing no oath, but yea, yea, and nay nay, cock and pye, & such like, to rend those creatures that God hath made, say by what you will haue me sweare, and I will parforme it.

How now Alinda (quoth the Princesse) where blowes the winde now? the Moone I dare gage my life is in some merrie corner, that hath brought thée to this conceited pleasures: but leauing all, tell me as thou tenderest my loue: What mooued thée to name the Duke of Millaine? my minde presageth some vnexpected chance hath happened: my people by his meanes if they haue, and thou therewith acquainted, I sweare by that loue I beare my Lord Edward, neuer to forgiue it thée, vnlesse thou reueale thy meaning therein, and tel me the truth of what thou hast heard.

The maiden hearing her iest prooue so contrarie, loath to offend her, which she honoured aboue all the creatures on the earth, thus said. Madame, I haue often heard it amongst the learned, obserued for a principle, not to ieast with superiours, dreading the mistaking of any simple meaning, whereof I might haue taken héede, but séeing my tongue hath béene so long hanged to vtter the hearts secrets, pardon what I haue to say, and I will hide nothing to satisfie your desire. Then pro­céede (quoth the Princesse) and whatsoeuer thou sayest, I fréely forgiue it thée.

[Page] Alynda, whom all intreaties might not pardon from tel­ling her minde, saide: This day my gracious Ladie, the banquet béeing now furnished, with many an honourable Guest, two gallaunt youthes whose names I knowe not, questioning one with the other, of the state of Genowaye, and of the Prouince thereof, comming lately from those confines, a tale of ioye, and much lamentations hee deliue­red, which wroong manye teares from my heart, at hea­ring thereof, it caused manye excéeding ioyes to possesse mée. Yet disposed to crosse me (quoth the Princesse) leaue off I saye these fond delusions, and saye how both ioye and care at one entir time assayled thée.

Madame (quoth Alynda) when he deliuered the pride and incolencye of the Millaine Duke, seeking first by intreatie to obtaine your right in the Dukedome, by winning the re­gent to his will, whose trust when he could not abuse, he rai­sed a mightie power by sea, and another huge hoast by [...], ioyning with other Princes néere adioyning, to accom­plish his will. The [...]auy discomfited by your Captaines, and they obtaining a most honourable victorie, the Duke himselfe forageth your confines, and hath fought a most ho­nourable battell, each side dooing theyr deuoyre, in such wise, as it was doubtfull whether hadde the best, and thus they left them: and this hath bredde both my care and great ioye.

The Princes who tendered her natiue Countrey as her owne life, premeditating on her maidens spéech, and recoun­ting each seuerall accident, many times wished her Lord pre­sent to chastice those vsurpers: vowing to reuēge those wrongs on Millaine, and all partakers: yet this in her womanish furie, reasonable meanes shée had none to make, without ac­quainting the Emperour therewith, which shée was verye loath to doo: Yet beating her Braines, to finde outsome shift, to behold the manner of their dooings, shée was euer crossed by some other contrarie accident, which made her sollitarie to abandon the companie of all people, onely her trustie ser­uant [Page] excepted, who séeing her heauinesse, lamented her rash­nesse in reuealing those tydings, which yet renewed her sor­rowes.

CHAP. XXV.
Howe the henourable Princesse Vallia, performing her Church duties, after her trauaile, went disguised from Rome.

THe Princesse which sought many means to attaine her desire, longing more déepe­ly to sée the estate of her commons, then for any worldly benifite, and to yéelde them comfort in theyr distresse. The time of her Churching béeing nowe finished, shée bethought her selfe of one secret intent, which shée would assu­redly put in proofe, if Alynda woulde thereunto giue her consent, denising many waies how to acquaint the maiden with her purpose, yet fearing to discouer the simple in­tent of her former purpose, who knowing her Alynda to bee of a most sharpe and readye witte, shee first by manye circumstances bounde her to her secrets, which doone shée said.

Alynda, in many extreames, thou hast béene my faithfull councellour, and conselor of my secretes, from whome the déepest thoughts of my heart hath neuer béene hidde, and hauing founde thyloyaitie, I doubt not the like at this time, which I will requite to thy content: to holde thée longer from what thou expectest to knowe, I haue since I hearde thée discourse the distresse of my poore subiects, vowed to GOD my Redéemer to sée them, and to lend them all such [Page] helpe as my power will stretch vnto, onely for furthering my intent héerein, aduise mee what secret course to take, in which thou shalt highlye pleasure mée: But as thou lo­uest mee, stande not vppon any denialls, or perswasions to withdrawe mée from this determination, for whatso­euer betide of mee, I will execute what I haue héere inten­ded.

Alynda which sawe her earnestnesse to performe her will héerein: be sought her of pardone, her wittes béeing to simple, to giue readie aduise in a case so full of daunger. But Madame (quoth shée) that you shall knowe, my loue is as firme as euer it was, deuise you the mean, and I wil doo my best to enact it, kéeping your secrets if I dye for it.

Enough, my owne swéete Alinda, I take thy woorde, and on thy faith, charge thée presently to prouide mee some trustie fréende to accompanye mee, which an disguised in mans attyre, armed like a Knight of the Emperours, will trauaile, my companion knowing nothing what I am: Wherefore saye to him, whome thou shalt appoint for my guide, I am thy Brother, that for some occasions of thy Ladies, is bounde for those parts of Italye, and on thy woorde, assure him of a good rewarde for his payne, to his verye good lyking. But haste thee, for I can enioye no quiet content, vntill I haue honourblye performed my will.

Madame (quoth Alynda) this shift may goe as currant as heeretofore. But say good Madame, how shall I aunswere your absence when the Emperor shal enquire for you? Marrie this my Alynda, thou shalt giue it out amongst the Ladies of the Court, as well as amongst mine owne attendaunts, that I haue made a solemne vow, to fast certaine dayes: In which time, performing my other penance for my sinnes past, I will not bee seene or spoken vnto of any but your selfe: this shift, I doubt not, but maye suffise.

[Page] Excellent my good Ladie, (quoth Alynda,) I sée now a willing horse néedes no spurre, God sende your Ladishippe well to prosper in your iourney: for I neuer saw your wits so sharpned before.

But now for horses, where will you speede? Thy selfe, Alinda shall bée my credit, thy honest word shall bée enraged to the maister of the Emperours Horse, for two such as shall bée most excellent, if not, mine owne assurance shall serue with him, to doo thy owne adopted Brother anye plea­sure.

Beléeue mée Madame, I like your plat well, and doubt not, but that shal be as wel performed it. I haue bethought mée of a propper Gentleman, a wooer of mine owne, in sooth hée is: whome I will coniure, of that loue hée hath so often profest, to beare my Brother companie, and to prouide him some good guide for his conduct: in meane time, I will prouid [...] your furniture, which shall all bee bought to your owne per­son.

What sayest then Alinda? wilt thou name mée in buying for mée those needefull things? No Madame (qooth shée) you mistake me, [...] that to my charge, and cumber you no more with these cares.

The plat béeing laide for the Princes iourney, Alynda so applieth her selfe in puruaying each néedefull thing, that manye dayes were not spent, before each necessarie was brought into the Princes lodging, and exquisitly fitted her, guide and other consorts, to her owne verye good lyking. Which béeing [...]oone, and the doye appoieted for theyr depar­ture, Alynda calling her Fréende before the Princesse, said.

Most gracious Ladie, lette your humble scruant intreat your Ladiship to grace this fréende a kinsman of mine, with your fauourable countenance. And séeing I haue made choise of him amongst all the gallants of this royall Court, I be­séech you witnesse with mée, what trust I repose in him, that commitmine owne and onely brother to his guiding, in a [Page] iourney for my good, which hee vnde [...]ta [...]eth. Yong hee is, and not able to endure such harde trauaile, without some good guide: and sicknesse, incident to all men, may oppresse him: of which (my good Hortelious, for so was he named) take thou especiall regard, for that what thou doest to him, is done to my selfe, and as great shall thy thankes be in doing him plea­sure. To morrow by that time the morning shall giue light at the gate, behinde these lodgings he shall attend you, where faile not to méete him, and me: and so for this time farewell.

This kinde louer which had no thought what seruice he vndertooke, was carefull of his charge, loath to be accoun­counted negligent at this first entertainment, slept not vntill he had all things in good sort readie. The Princesse minding her iourney, was all night, or the better part, in arming and prouiding her selfe, attending the comming of her trustie guard, who failed not his houre appoynted, where the Prin­cesse accompanied with her Alynda, met him. And making small stay, taking their loath depart each of other, wee leaue them to their iourney, and Alynda to her studious thoughts, how to beguile the Emperour, in her Ladies absence, as here­after you shall heare.

CHAP. XXXI.
Howe the Emperour with great regarde of the infants good fortunes, caused a man of Arte to calculate their natiuities.

THe Emperour whose [...]elicitie was in those noble children, of whome hee had more care th [...]n of an ordinarie friend, desirous to knowe what in their birthes was predesti­nate vnto them, sought manie wayes to attaine vnto his desire, and acquainted sun­drie his friendes with his intent. Atter long care taking to attaine his desire, had intelligence of a reuerent Hermet, [Page] which had his being on Alpes leading from Rome to Naples, whose Art was matchlesse in the Arte Methimaticke. Vnto this hermet he sent his trustie councellor Anthonie Buscatho, entreating him, (whom he might commaunde) to satisfie his pleasure herein sending, by him, the houre, day, and moneth, truly set downe of their natiuities.

Such haste made this noble man, that hee came vnto the Cell of the Hermet, whom hee kindly intreated to satisfie the Emperours pleasure herein, who loath to be drawne from his heauenly motions, could not a long time be perswaded to it. In the ende, so manie were the intreaties, and importunate suites of the noble Messenger, that he graunted his good will, promi­sing by a certaine time to fulfill the Emperours suite, and by writing to satisfie him.

Anthonie hauing what he desired, returned the Emperor his answere, who spending the time in manie thoughts of his desires, tooke no rest vntill he heard what the Hermet said. As time spendeth, so time brought the limitted time to ende, of which the Emperour was carefull, when calling his Antho­nie, he caused him to spéede vnto the Hermet, where making no stay, posted about his businesse, and in happie time arriued at his Cell: where entring conference with the aged father, touching his questions, he receyued no wordes at all, whereon he might take any occasion of iudgement. But after some r [...] ­past taken, he sayd.

Friendly Anthonie, whose paines hath béene such, to sée my homely Cell, thankes for your paines, to my gracious Prince heartily commend me, and vnto him deliuer these fewe lines, which shall import that small knowledge I can giue.

The noble man hauing receiued his message, woulde not make more inquirie of ought, but taking his friendly farewell, hasteneth vnto the Court, of whose comming the Emperour was glad: who calling him into his Closet, enquired the newes he had. At which drawing his packet, signed with the Hermets signet, he deliued the same vnto his Maiestie, who renting the seales, read the contents thereof following.

These darke and close couched lines, when the Emperour had read, and ouer-read many times, and could not conceiue the meaning therof, he was more troubled in spirit then before. But when hee was warned, that the yonger should be borne from him by a stranger, he tooke order that their nurces should bee in one of the chiefest fortresses about the Cittie, where hee vsually visited them: in whome hee tooke more delight, then in anie thing, especiallie in Constantine the yoonger, which bare his name, of whome his feare was most. The el­der whom had to name Nartelions, hee was not so watchfull of, yet had he a fatherly care of both. In this great regard, and héedful care, these princes were seuen yeres within the fortresse [Page] of the Cittie nourished. What after happened them, the Hi­storie shall shew you as it commeth.

CHAP. XXVI.
Howe the Princesse Vallia arriued at Genoway, and what happened her.

LOng and wearie trauaile hath brought the Ladie in sight of Genoway. Be­fore she could recouer the Cittie, she was encountred by the Ambuscadoes of the Millaine Duke, who tooke her prisoner, and brought her to the Dukes Pauil­lion. The Duke séeing so fayre and beautifull a face, questioned him (for so we must teame her nowe) of whence hee was, and what af­fayres ledde him thither, whether hée came as a friend or an enemie. Vallia, whose se [...]e are not to séeke of readie answeres, séeing her selfe in the handes of him that woulde not willingly part with her, if he had knowledge of her, dissembling (as well she could) what she was, sayd. Noble Prince, the desire I haue to make triall of my manhood, hath brought me to thée, for that I haue heard thy honours spoken of amongst many. A Gentle­man I am, desirous to sée the manner of warre: and if thou vouchsafe it, the price of my seruice shall be imployed for thee.

The Duke which noted her beautifull face, her kinde spéech, and affable countenance, held her for nloesse then shee séemed. And without vsing any circumstances, gaue her entertainmēt: appointing her a place néere his owne person: which kindnesse she verie gratefull accepted, returning many thankes for his honourable acceptance.

Not long had our yong warriour remained in the campe, whom in her attire we name Philipo, but a scallie was made by the Citizens, whose vittailes waring scant, woulde gladlie séeke all possible meanes to be quit of their enemies.

[Page] The larum in the campe giuen, all armed and in aray, Phi­lipo was not last, but mounted, in very comely and braue ma­ner demeaned hir selfe, ventering so farre in pursute of the ene­mie to the gates, that shée was with her guide taken prisoner, which the Millaine Duke seeing, commending the forward­nesse of his new entertained souldiour, sought to rescue hir. But his ayde came too late. No sooner was the Ladie within the Citie, but carrying the shew of a Cauelere, she had good enter­tainement, and well intreated. That night the Gouernour with his commaunders being pleasantly delighted at supper, and euerie man recounting what seruice they had séene and done that day, the captaine whose prisoner she was, acquainted the Gouernour what a prize he had that day gotten, leauing nothing vnremembered that might honour her, whome he made reckoning would purchase him store of crownes.

The Gouernour on this report of the Captaine, was verie desirous to sée this prisoner, yet for that night made little recko­ning of it, in the morning early, his mind deuising of his nights resolution, accompanied with his best friendes, tooke his occasi­on to walke by the house of signiour Vincencio, where shee re­mained, with whom he questioned of sundrie occasions. After some friuilous spéech, he enquired for the prisoner, who was pre­sently brought before him, whome he saluted verie kindly, re­quiring him to say of what countrey he was, and what name and parentage. Sir quoth Philipo, for so lette her be remem­bred, what you are I know not, neither desire I to know, but haue heard that lawes of armes allow not euerie man to exa­mine, especially a gentleman. Therefore pardon me, for with­out the gouernour or his speciall authoritie, I will not acquaint any with my estate, and so good sir quoth she rest satisfied. Syr quoth the gouernour, your peremptorie spéech sheweth some great mind, which I pray God proue so happie for your hostes sake. If then I can entreate the gouernour to come or send for you, wil you vouchsafe to acquaint him with what I haue re­quired? True sir (quoth Philipo) you construe my minde right, for which I am beholding vnto you. You are verie pleasant gentle, [Page] man (quoth the Gouernor) which I wish to continue, & would gladly craue this fauour, that I might on mine owne authoritie demaund whether you know the gouernour, which you would sée. Sir answered Philipo, the honourable gentleman yet I neuer saw, but in regard of his vertues and honourable com­mendations, I both loue and honour him.

Thankes (quoth the Gouernour) for your good opinion and report of him which you hold an enemy, but happily may proue otherwise, for which, if any haue any thing to say, either in se­cret or otherwise, speake as a friend, I am the man, vnworthie though I be of so honourable a place, wherefore if thou haue ought to speake, say boldly thy minde, for by the honour of that seate which I do now possesse, I will fréely heare thée, and par­don whatsoeuer.

Philipo which saw how harshly she had demeaned her selfe, with a blushing countenance which might wel haue bewrayed what she was, humbly besought him of pardon for her vnwil­ling offence protesting by the honour of a souldiour, she had no knowledge of him, which the honourable gouernour beléeuing and forgiuing, she sayde. Noble minded Gouernour, hearing of the wrongs offered you and your people, I craued pardon and leaue of my soueraigne the Emperour, to be partaker of your seruice, as well to right your iniurie offered you, as for the loue and dutie I owe this countrey where I had my béeing first, and iourneying hither, intending what I say, was sodain­ly surprised by the Ambassadours of the Millaine Duke, who taking me at aduantage, there was small resistance, but yéel­ding me their prisoner, had entertainement of the Duke, who vsed mee most kindly, yet not content with his fauour, bée­ing enemie fo your state, and heire of my late deceased Lorde Duke Phillip, in the last seruice I willingly aduensured my selfe in that manner to come vnto you, and in signe of my loy­altie and faith, though I be young and a straunger, whose credite yet is not requisite you should trust too farre in a time so daungerous, yet as I am a Gentleman (which title with my life I will for euer maintaine) bee ruled by mée, [Page] and doubt not the suddaine remoouing of your vsurping ene­mie.

The Gouernour listning to her long discourse, noted her modest countenance and courage in deliuering the same, yet holding it wisedome to haue better knowledge of any man, whom he should trust in a cause of such importance, thanked him for his proffer, crauing respit for his resolution therein. And so after some other courteous spéeches, giuing his word to his host for his libertie, hee inuited him to his lodging, where hee was feasted with great welcome, the gouernour delighting much in his companie and pleasaunt par­ley, which in their secret discourses, was for matters of state, touching the weale of her people, though the gouer­nours least suspect was of her, whose right hee gouerned. To her delight, being now in place of her most chéefest delight, we leaue her a time.

CHAP. XXVII.
How Alinda taking care to keepe secret her Ladies ab­sence, demeaned her selfe.

ALynda the trust of her Ladie, and the faithfull secret kéeper of her mistresse, after shee hadde carefully prouided all things, and séene her horsed to her iour­ney, beganne nowe to deuise in what a laborinth of daunger shee had wrapt her her selfe, if ought should betide her Lady, but well to auoyde her owne danger, and to frée her Ladie of suspect, her subtile pate was not free from carefull studie, which way shee might best keepe her secrets close, imagining sometime one way, sometine another: at length a more better presents it selfe to her memorie. [Page] But standing in an extafie, holding it wisedome not to be pro­uided if occasion should serue, she gaue it out, that her Ladie vowing a long fast and secret, would not be séene or spoken to of her Alynda.

This plotte working effectually, Alinda orderly as she was accustomed, went to visite the children, from whence she retur­ning, she puruaid with her owne hand her diet, as for her La­dies seruice, and then attyring her selfe in her Ladies attyre, would shew her selfe. In this manner continued shee without suspect of her Ladies absence, vntill the Emperour pittying the Lady, doubting least her long solitarinesse should moue her to melancholy, and thereby some dangerous sicknesse might en­sue, wh [...]n hee hadde often solicited her by her sernant Alinda for the same, and receiued such answeres by her as hée liked not, mooued with a kinde desire to sée her, hée vowed that if [...]he left not her chamber by a time limitted, passing the bondes of honour, he would violently breake the doores vppon her.

This wind of furie made Alyndaes heart cold, fearing her Mistresses honour should not by absence bee questioned of, and her selfe without confession of her beeing where shee might not bee knowne, in daunger of the Emperours displeasure, and losse of credite and life: to anoyde all which, many wayes shee deuised, yet none safe inough, as shee thought: but as women haue alwayes some shift, if it were to deceiue the Diuell, so Alynda deuised this meane, vn­to her Ladyes confessour. In a morning earlye shee went, where after her, many pretie questions and aunsweres pas­sed betweene them, Alynda to trye the constancie of this holy father, charged him on his holy orders, and by the reuerent zeale hee bore to religion, to say what hee would doo for her Ladie, in maintaining her honour and re­putation.

The Frier who thought on no such matter as the subtile Alinda, willing to make a shewe of zeale and dutie, prote­sted by all holy vowes, that whatsoeuer rested within his [Page] power, he would gladly effect for her Ladiship, if the losse [...] life and credite depended thereon. This geare wrought fitte for Alyndaes purpose, which she thus answered. Holye Fa­ther, well haue you said, in vowing your selfe the fauouret of [...] noble a Ladie whose reputation and honor depe [...]deth in your secrecie: which seeing your holie vowes ought to bee held [...] in regarde, both with God, and the worlde, I will reueale a matter most rare and straunge vnto you, and craue your counsaile in the same.

My Ladie (holy Father) hearing of the wrong offered the Gouernour and state of Genoway, whose right the Duke­dome is, inspired with courage, sprung from the loyne [...] if a noble souldiour, and possessing the spirit of her louelie Lord, the knight of the holy Crosse determning to trie her fortune i [...] those warres, bound me by oath to her secrete intent, neuer for for­ture of death, or whatsoeuer punishment, to reueale her will, and noble determination therein: which done, and my vowe past, she inioyned me to prouide horse and armour for her with a guide. And so decking herselfe in the attyre of a man, onelie accompanied with a Gentleman of the Court, who know­ing her but for my brother, are gone for Genoway, since whose departure, my care béeing great to kéepe her credite, haue giuen it out, as well to the Emperour, as to all other, that my Ladie hath made a holy vowe, and obserueth a fast for certaine wéekes, in which time shee will haue no confe­rence, or be séene of anie, but my selfe. But the Emperour dreading thorowe her solitarinesse, some melancholike infir­mitie, shoulde ensue, hath sworne, if shee come not a­broade in a certaine time, to drawe her perforce into his companie.

To salue all which, let me intreat you, by shat promise you haue made, to morrow morning by that houre the Emperour doth vsually walke about his priuie garden, to come vnto the Court, where I wil attend you, and be your guide to her cham­ber, where my selfe disguised in my Ladies apparell, will with you feigning great conference, shewe vs at the windowe [Page] where we may bee both seene of his excellencie. By which meanes; and your further perswasions to his Maiestie, in tel­ling him what vengeance he shall incurre of God, in frustra­ting the holie vowes of anie religiously made, he may bee drawne from [...] déede so farre vnseeming his honour, and [...]

Gentlewomen, (quoth she confessour) thy faith to thy La­die, I admire (as well I may) for as rare a matter is it to see a woman of such secrecie, as a million of blacke swannes. Thy woordes hath woonne mée to execute thy will, what thou hast deuised I will (God willing) performe. And I pray that our devises haue as good effect for thy Ladies honour, as thine heart wishes. In the morning expect mee, when God saying Amen, I will visit thée, vntill that time fare­well.

Alynda seeing her worke haue effect to her wish, retur­ned him many thankes for his courtesies, promising large re­wardes for his friendship: which done, committing him to his deuout seruices, shée spéedeth to her lodging, about her ordi­narie affaires. Where we leaue her till fitter occasion of the Historie serueth.

CHAP. XXVIII.
Howe the feigned Philipo by good gouernment and beha­uiour, obtained the good wil of the Gouernour, and what chanced her in the fight.

PHilipo hauing a care of finishing her intended businesse, ought by all meanes to gaine the good will of the Gouer­nour: so that leauing no occasion which was offered, he alwayes tooke oppos­tunitie to mooue the Gouernour, by bat­tell to trie the euent of their fortunes But the Gouernour hauing lost manie [Page] of his companie, expecting some ayde from his friends, de­tracted [...]he time, in such manner, as Philipo wearied with their lingring, and respecting her promise with Alynda, fin­ding opportunitie, hauing the Gouerneur at conueinent time and place to speake, thus she said.

Noble Gouernour if I might without suspect of villanie, or incurring your displeasure, boldly speake, I woulde then make offer of my simple seruice to your honour, and your peoples great good. The Gouernour whome [...]ffection had woonne to like him, willed him to say what he would fréelie, he woulde heare him, and further his honest suites to his best power. Thankes, (noble Gentleman, quoth Phillipo) seeing you vouchsafe me this fauour, I sée and note the great disiresse of your people, and pitie them, for whose reliefe from this captiuitie, and fréedome from these enemies, I will ad­venture my bodie in single combate, to trie my fortune with the bes [...] man at armes in that [...] [...]ps, if you dare on the goodnesse of your first quarrell, aduenture your right: or if to this, you, or that proude enemie will not condiscend, by battell to ende the warres in this sort, giue me leaue to trie by policie, what affect God which [...] the iust actions of men will do.

The Gouernour musing at the resolution of Philipo, whose smooth face argued his yong yeares, and [...] knowledge in marshall discipline, would not di [...]able his [...]. But thanking him for his friendly pr [...]ffer, recounted [...] him, the experience of warres the eneme had, [...] Souldious amongest them, so that his [...] waii [...]ing strength, was insufficient to inc [...]nter the woorst of many hun­dreds, and their pollicie not to pre [...]nted. Yet G [...]n [...]eman, (quoth he,) that I may not shewe any vngreatfulnesse to you, whose care and offer is such for our good, let mee heate your deuice, and as I like, we will accept or refuse it. Philipo de [...] ­ding her ill su [...]cesse in her suite, besought the Gouernour of yardon, vnlesse of his honour hée vouchsafed to graunt him his suite.

[Page] The Gouernor séeing his willingnesse, and what discontent he had at his deuiall, and dispairing of his good hap, hoping on God, which by the power of Dauid, discomfited a more huge armie, graunted his request. Whose wordes no sooner vttered, but hee might perceiue her hearts content by her chéerefull countenance▪ After a small stay, little néeding long premedi­tation she sayd: Know (my good Lord) that during the time I remained in fielde with the Duke, hauing an intent to do you and yours, what good I best could, I gaue my studi [...] to search the secrets of his campe, noting his whole order and maner in euerie thing, watching by night to sée their obseruation, and warding the day, to know their customes. In which times, I sawe how carelessely they demeaned themselues, wishing at some times your honour were acquainted with my thoughts: so with a small power might they haue béene furprised. In hope of which (good my Lord) giue me leaue to chuse vnto me, those whose yeares require honour by their deserts, such Gentle­men as I can intreate to accompanie mee, my selfe will giue the attempt, entering first the campe, like a fugetiue, hauing stollen from the Citie, pretending honourable loue to the duke, whom I will with my [...] talke so besot, as vntill heauie sléepe oppresse him, he shall neuer be wearie to heare me: which done, and euerie one in the dead of their sléepe, binding them safe, I will with hi [...] Signet, commaunde the Officers of the watch to giue me the worde, pretending the Dukes meaning to visit euerie watch secretly that night. These things falling so out by shewing a fl [...]ming Torch, I will giue notice to my companie, whom I will méet, and vnto them deliuer the word, which by small companies shall passe the courts of gaide, vn­till we [...] the Dukes owne lodging, where hauing some strength, my selfe (on my life) will vndertake to bring the Duke prisoner, and [...] (by your h [...]lpe, and Gods as­sistance) your enemies.

Philipo, deuise (q [...]oth the Gouernour) i [...] it be as well per­fo [...]ed, which God graunt, to thy industris (noble minded Gentleman) I comment this seruice, and will my selfe repo­sing [Page] ouer thy loyaltie: be readie at giuing the signe, with fiue hundred of my trustiest fréendes to ayde thée, the honor where­of, shall be Philippoes, if we preuaile, then procéed when thou shalt best please.

Philippo, hauing his desire, and the gouerners good consent, attyred like a common souldiour, at setting the watch, issued the Cittie, commending the successe of his seruice to GOD: far had he not gone from the Cittie, but taken by the enemies E­spyalls, he craued accesse to the Duke, vnto whom after they had rifeled him, they brought him. No sooner came hée to the presence of the Duke, but prostrating himselfs at his féete, hee sayth. Most noble Lord, and my dread soueraigne, pardon thy humble seruant, who by my ouerboldnesse, desirous to gaine your gracious loue, so farre aduentured in pursuit of thy enemies: That béeing past rescew, and the enemies num­ber lesse, my strength fayling mée, with the losse of much bloud issuing from my woundes, I was in haplesse time, taken Prysoner, where I haue there euer since remay­ned, vntill this time: I then slaying my kéeper, taking his apparell and furniture, I thus escaped theyr furye, who for my harsh spéeches, vsed in defending your noble reputati­on, was doomed to bée shot to death by the souldiours. The Duke glad to sée his safe returne with life, for whome he had great care, giuing him heartie thankes for his good loue, and daungerous aduenturing for him, and in his seruice, gaue him a chayne of golde from his necke: commanding his Maister of the wardrop, to sute him presentlye in a rich sute which hee appointed: which done, seating him by his side, accompanied with [...]he chéefest of his men at Armes, and nobilitie, hee dis­coursed vnto him much matter to theyr lyking: touching the miserie of the towne, assuring them on his life, before manye daies were ended, the cōmons in despite of the Gouernor wold yéelde themselues, if in time he and his accomplices sought not his highnesse fauour. With these pleasing speeches, & often car­rowsing betwéene thē, at finishing of each storie, the night was well spent, Philippo for his welcome, was lodged on a Pallet [Page] in the Dukes Tent: which done, and euery man at his quiet, the Court of guarde about the Tent, being halfe a sléepe, as one that reguarded his honour with the gouernor, séeing all sound, serched the Dukes pocket, where finding the signet, he issued out the Tent, commaunding the Captaine of his guard to send him the word, for that disguised, hee would walke that night about the Campe.

The Captaines séeing the Dukes signet, gaue him the word, which obtained, about his other businesse he goeth, effecting all things as he wished. The Duke being fast, thrusting out his torche at the Tent dore, as though the Duke intended to vi­sit the Ferrara Duke, which lay not farre off, he fained spéeche with the guarde, vntill he thought the Gouernors espyalls had séene the signe: When making no longer stay, with a Holbart on his neck, taking his way towards the Citie, he past with the word without any molesting. The Gouernor which had hope in his champion, slept not his time, but with his horse, and ma­ny other a foote, attended the comming of Philippo, to direct them, which made all possible haste, and in good time to all their comforts, met the Gouernour: Vnto whom he briefly deliue­red what was done, beséeching him to let his footemen passe, by small companies, to a place by him assigned, whither he would conduct them, and at the allarome giuen, to make hast with his horsemen to their reschew. The Gouernour hauing good hope of successe, commending his pollicie and resolution, appointed his men by him to be led, straightly charging them to be gouer­ned by him, who giuing them the worde, marched on to a side of a small hill, close on the backe side: the Dukes tent where they stayed, vntill theyr guide Philippo had appointed them what to doo.

Philippo, applying his businesses, bringing the companye close to the Tent, hauing the Duke fast bound, wrapped him in his night gowne, accompanied with two or thrée good fol­lowes more of his crewe, with theyr weapons drawne, drewe him from his naked bed: with which awaking, and perceiuing them straungers which were about him, he would haue cryed [Page] out for helpe, which Philippo perceiuing, thrust his gloues into his mouth, swearing by all holinesse, that if hée spake anye worde, he should presently haue his pasport, to hell, which was the habitation of such vsurpers: Therefore willed him, as hée tendered his life, to bee silent, and his bodye should haue no harme, which to doo, hée was enforced: Taking what they woulde with patience, hauing him within theyr power, they cutte the coardes of the Tent, and pulled him out vnder­neath, bestowing him at theyr owne pleasures: that done, leauing him in safe kéeping, they gaue the allarome, killing and slaying without mercie. To whose ayde, came the watchfull Gouernour, who with his power, did such feates of Armes, that the whole Armie was discomfited, some fledde, but most [...]laine. The Dukes with the principall were taken Prisoners, with many others, which were deliuered presently. But the Duke with his complices, hée sent vnto the Cittie, to take better assurance of his loyaltie.

Thus the pollitie of Philippo preuayling, and those Lordes of theyr riches and prouision, which they hoped to haue made theyr Captiues, the Gouernour sent vnto the Towne, the happie successe of theyr seruices, marching him­selfe by easie paces, dooing Philippo all the honour hée coulde. Who being mounted on a beautifull Ienet of Spaine, led the two Dukes his prisoners.

The happie tydings of this honourable victorye suddain­lye spread throughout the Cittie: great was the tryumphing they made, where no solemnitie was left there vneffected for honour of the same, euery one lauding the pollicie of Philippo, and dooing him all the honour that might bee deuised.

To the excéeding gréefe and heartes discontent of the Dukes, who blaming theyr light credence of a straunger, whome they neuer sawe before in their liues, woulde on his wordes, vttered of purpose to serue his owne turne, admitte him to such fauour and trust: but after war­nings comes too late. They are nowe to bee vsed at the [Page] pleasure of the Gouernour, vnto whom Philippo became an earnest sutor, for theyr courteous entertainement, and hono­rable vsage.

The Gouernour, whose honour was increased by the in­dustry of Philippo, imbrasing him in his Armes, committed the whole estate of those Princes and Nobles, vnto his directi­on: by whom he solemnely vowed to be gouerned, for which, as one that could demeane himselfe to all estates like him­selfe, hée returned many heartie thankes, and accepted his kind proffer.

CHAP. XXIX.
How Philippo gaue thesentence on the vsurping dukes, and the honour done at his departure.

PHilipo, praysing God for his prosperous successe, reioyseth nowe to bee w [...]h her Alinda, whome shée greatly feared might encurre some daunger, by her long ab­sence: to auoide which, shee besought the gouernour of lysence to departe: pretending businesses of great impor­taunce. To whose sute, although wil­lingly he would haue condiscended, yet with earnest intreati [...] and loue hee bare him, he besought him to staye with him, promising on the fayth and honour of a Gentleman, as him­selfe, hee shoulde participate in all liuing Land and goods, which hee had, or should euer haue. For which Philippo ren­dered many heartie thankes, but might not bee intreated: for which the gouernor, as well as many other his followers, and fréendes, were heartily sorie, surceasing theyr bootelesse sutes, least theyr importunitie might bréed offence, yet they besought him, to accept the raunsome of the prisoners which were to bée disposed by him.

When Philippo saw the honorable minds of those his friends, [Page] which hee had good cause to loue, for maintaining his right, and euerie way discharging the honourable parte of a trustie subiect, loath that so great fauours should go vnrecompen­ced, hee first on their alleagance to the rightfull heire of the Dukddome, charged them streightly to fulfill what he should giue in charge, being no disparagement to their honours and e­state, to which they willingly agréed, confirming by oath what he had set downe, and then saide. In performance of the words you haue giuen, this shall you do, before thée moneth is fully expired, you shall in person repaire vnto Rome, where before the imperiall maiestie of my soueraigne Lord the Emperour, you shall present these Dukes your prisoners, where I will re­count your honourable deserts, and deserued commendations, that your Princesse Vallia may reward your honourable ser­uice. Till when, honourable Gouernour, weare this ring, by which you shall finde me, if you forget the name of Philippo. Which said, and the ring deliuered, the gouernour wondering at the grauitie and noble minde of the resolute gentleman, o­uercome with his noble proffer, could not fell what way to re­compence the least of his deserts, but rendering him many thankes, besought him in the most humble manner, to acknow­ledge their duties to their soueraigne Ladie Vallia, whose ser­uadts thee vowed them in all loyaltie. These conditions agréed vppon, and euerie thing with consent finished, the time appoin­ted for Philippos departure, a band of souldiours were appoin­ted for his conuay to Rome, the captaine of which companie, hauing great charge for his honourable vsage, vnto whom ten thousand crownes was deliuered at their leaue taking of him. The time of his departure being come, Philippo taking a solemne farewell of the Dukes of Millaine and Ferrara, with the other noble prisoners, the gouernour with the most noblest of the countrey, conducted him on his iourney, of whom when they took their leaues, many teares were shed: such was the sorrow for his departure. whome they had no knowledge of. Whom after many loth farewels, wee leaue to his iourney, accompanied with his guard and the gouernours, to manie [Page] honourable thoughts of this noble stranger.

CHAP. XXX.
How Philippo arriued in Rome, and what chanced Alinda.

THe Gouernour hauing lost our noble Philippo, there néeded none to hasten hun, whose thoughts was of his Alinda, whom he had engaged for his returne. As time worketh many effects, so long trauell hath brought this noble ladie within one dayes iourney of the Citie, her long desired place of rest, when calling the captain and his companions, hee discharged them from their further trauaile, largely rewarding them for their paines: where the Captaine was loath to leaue her, before hée had séene her in safetie in the Cittie: but when no perswasions might serue but they must needes leaue her, the Captaine making readie the gold, presented it vnto her, desiring her to accept it as the gift of his louing friends of Genoway.

Philippo wondering at the bountie of the Gouernour, gaue them many thankes, but no entreatie might cause him to touch one penny, the Captaine on his part loth to offende the, Gouernour againe to returne it, protested by his ho­nour in armes, and faith of a souldiour, to leaue it to his dis­position. Which oathes Philippo was not willing he should violate, but measuring his honourable minde, receiued the Golde, the one halfe of which, he fréely imparted amongst the Souldiours, who accepted it without deniall, with many thankes, the other halfe betwéene the Captaine and his guide he equally shared, vnto whom yeelding many thankes [Page] for his bountie, taking their leaues, they left him on his way for Rome, and they returned for Genoway.

The time of her expected returne was now neare expired, wherein Alynda was to prooue her wittes yet againe as shée had doone: whose cunning by the good helpe of the Frier, tooke such effect, that the Emperour by his godly counsell was reclaimed from his intended purpose, although the Princesses absence wrought his great disquiet, yet patienting himselfe, hée was content with hearing of her good health, for which hee diligently enquired euerie day of Alynda, whome to quiet from further care or discontent, Vallia ar­riued at Rome, and taking her lodging in an Os [...]ria, sent her guyde to the court in secret, to giue notise to Alynda of her returne, willing her in the euening to méete her at the place where they last parted.

This tydings to Alynda was welcome, who was not a little comforted with that newes of her Ladyes good successe, for which giuing GOD thankes for his fauour, and kéeping and preseruing her in her iourney, shée awaigh­ted with diligence the good howre of her Ladyes home re­turne, where giuing her attendance, shée hadde not long stayed before shee hadde sight of her, the most welcome of the worlde. What ioy at theyr méeting there was, with theyr sundrie discourses, I omitte, vntill in quiet content shee was placed in her lodging, from whence after shee hadde discharged her guide, shee was not long absent, where beeing with her secret Alynda all alone, shee que­stioned her of all the chaunces that hadde happened since her departure from thence. Which aunswered, Alynda forgatte not to tell her the perplexed estate wherein shes was at the Emperours woordes, menacing her to sée her Ladye, no occasions whatsoeuer so preuent him: with the pollicie shee vsed, and ayde of her confessour. At which discourse the Princesse might not forbeare heartily to laugh. What other prattle happened, magine you Gentlemen, that [Page] are acquainted with woers merrie méetings, to let you heare more of Edward and his companie, what in their iourney hap­pened them.

CHAP. XXVII.
Howe Edward accompanied with the Gouernour of the Rodes, and his Ladie hauing performed their ryttes in the holy land, returned home, and what chanced.

YOu haue heard gentiles of the recouerie of the gouernour of the Rodes, by the noble knight of the Crosse, who gathering strength and some ease of his wounds, by the knight his good recure, arriued at y^e ho­ly Citie, where they made their stay, doing such religious ceremonies, as to vowed trauailers appertaineth: where their wel­come was great for the knights loue, whose honour they wi­shed for the seruice done, in defence of the holy Citie. After the gouernour was well recouered, and all things to their content finished, the knight desirous to sée his Ladie whom hee neuer heard off since their parting, causing their cōpanie to be ready to depart, and their attendants to puruay them of victuals, for prouision passing the mountaines: which done, taking theyr leaue of the high priests, and the chéefe of all the citie, who con­ducted them on theyr way, they trauailed without any aduen­ture, vntill they came to the Cittie of Aleppo, where they stayed to refresh themselues. In this Citie, there was resident certaine Spanish marchants, who enuying the good counte­naunce of the knight, and the loue was made him by the vice­roy there, moued with reuenge of his counte generall, slaine by the Knight of the Crosse, after their returne from the wars, séeking many wayes to intrappe him, and finding no cause or meane to accuse him of any ill, whereby to procure his trou­ble, hee consorted with his Ianesaries, who were appointed [Page] to wait on him by some pollicie to do him to death, promising great rewardes for his paines. Thy fact being committed, these hell-hounds whom no conscience mooued to remorse, in hope of gaine, vndertooke the action. And vnder shewe of kind­nesse and zeale to him that was a knight at Armes, intruded themselues into his companie, admitting him to many ban­kets, the better to worke their willes on him, séeking opportu­nitie to slay him, taking their occasion to quarrell for pledging a carrous: which the Knight refusing, a sturre began betwéene them, where he receiued many iniuries, and some woundes, before hee offered any offence: when the multitude growing about him, and he vnarmed, winding his Mantle about his arme, he reft from one of the Turks his semitarie, with which he made such way, that they helde themselues most happiest, that were farthest off.

The rumour of which broyle, was noysed thorow the Ci­tie, that thither they came from al parts, to take parts, and to be beholders of the fight. In which, after many déepe wounds gi­uen, and many of the vngouerned Ianesaries sent to hell, when he could make no more resistance, compelled by the heat of the place, and wearinesse of the fight, he yéelded himselfe vn­to the handes of the Iwae, chiefe Iudge of the Citie, who pro­mised him to bee his warrant from all men, that no daunger should betide him: on which promise he deliuerd his weapon. The Spanish Marchant, whom they called Guido, standing on his house top to beholde this tumult, hoped well that the Knight had bin slaine, but it proued contrarie, at which he stor­med greatly, but more gréeued to pay his promised summes, which for his life hee durst not denie, fearing the Ianesaries should haue slaine himselfe. Which seconde gréefe, caused the traiterous Spaniard to séeke his further trouble, vrging these Ienesaries, to lay vnto the Knights charge, matters of trea­son in the state of the Cittie, thereby to cut him off by lawe, which hee, nor the best Cauileres of his Countrey, durst out looke in the face, in anie sort to attempt ought against him of force.

[Page] These Ianesaries suborned by large gifts, wrought others to take part with them, who were néere the Viceroy, and the Gawr, which vppon their reports summoned the Knight to their iudgement hall, from the prison where hee lay chayned, vnto whome matter of great vntruth was obiected, con­cerning the state, which hee stoutlie denied. But those Curres, which had solde his life for money, storming that hee had fauour to speake, offered to sweare by theyr holie Al­caron, that he with the rest of his confederates, viewing the Citie in theyr secrete walkes, had taken notice of theyr forces, inquyring by circumstaunces, of such as they accom­panied wich, what numbers of men they had, and howe with vittailes they were relieued. These accusations so vehe­mently vttered agaynst him, the Viceroy coulde not but examine: and finding him guiltie of the same by theyr false iudgement, sentence of death shoulde with all seueritie passe agaynst him.

The Knight séeing his cause daungerous, putting his hope on him that neuer left him comfortlesse, with a bolde vndaunted spirite, and as one that feared not their threates, knowing death was the woorst, thus sayd. Reuerend fathers, Iudges of mens causes, you haue here by your lawes con­demned an innocent man to death, for no cause iustly offe­red, but falsely and vntrulie by enuie, and of your owne ima­ginations, wrought agaynst me. First, by force they preten­ding loue vnto mee, in that place where they gaue mée vit­tailes, they sought to take my life from mee. Their intended purposes that way failing, standing on mine one safetie and defence, they haue here falsely accused mee of matter neuer thought on by me. But say (patrones of iustice and honour) that I should haue viewed your forces, what may one naked man do, where are thousands of braue and gallant souldiours? If your wisedome would but in iustice sift the cause, you should then find the wrong offered mee, that am here a straunger a­mongest you: from whom I appeale to the Grand Seigniorie for iustice, or being a souldiour and a man at Armes, in your [Page] Citie, which are most men at Armes, let mée in combat trie mine innocencie. If to neither of these my lawfull suites you do agrée, the worlde which heares of your vniust dealing with mee, will scorne your lawes, and to your greate re­proofe, to report your wrongs done a gentleman and a souldier.

The King which was a Runnagatho, an Easterling borne, and was not to learne the Christian lawes, and good nuriture, hearing his resonable request, saide hee spake rea­son, and called before his accusers, vnto whom he said. Coun­trimen and fellowes, you haue here on your wordes, brought a Christian and souldier to iudgement, whom our lawes hath condemned by your reports, whether of truth, or in reuenge of some of those who lost their liues in the broile begun by you a­amongst your selues, we cannot say: but as I am appointed your gouernour, and expresly charged by his Emperiall maie­stie, whose authoritie I beare, to vse iustice to all men without fauor: in which, I hope I haue hitherto borne an equall hande, neither sparing my f [...]iends, nor fauoring my enemies: so in this case, you must vse what law of Armes requireth. Therfore this is my sentence, which if you be souldiers, and your cause iust, you may not denie, that you two his accusers, shall in single combat (according to the lawes of our land) maintain your ac­cusation by fight: for which, appoint your selues agaynst to morrow, or reuoke your words before the whole assemblie.

The Ianesaries, who least looked for this fauor to be shewed a Christian, mooued some other of their friends to vrge against him the slaughter of those souldiers by him murthered, & iustice to procéed for breaking the peace in their citie, being the princi­pall fort of the land, against the law of Armes: which the knight thus answered. Your grace hath heard y^e malice of those people, whose intent, if they may haue their wils, is my life, of which if your grace consider, that what I did was in mine own defence and safetie of my life, hauing receiued sundry woundes, which are yet to be seene, before I offred any one a blow: if a worme hauing no fence, will turne being troden on, worthy of blame may not that man be, which will defende his life, who once lost can neuer be rec [...]lled.

[Page] The king interrupting his spéech, turning him to the accusers, said: You are to maintaine your euidence, attend your limited time, or confesse your accusation false: which saide, hee com­mitted the gard of the prisoner vnto a Captaine, to sée him forth comming at the time appointed.

CHAP. XXXII.
How the Ianesaries loath to maintaine the fight, laboured the Spaniard to buy his libertie.

THe faint-hearted Villaines, who had séene the feates of Armes done by the Knight, doubting their force, which was farre vn­able to encounter a man of such woorth and experience in Armes, fearing by theyr foyle euer to bee dishonoured, perswaded the Spanish Guido, in friendship to make offer of loue vnto the Knight, who béeing a Christian, for a summe of money might deliuer him, threatning him, if hée wrought not some meanes for to free them from the combatte, they would dis­couer his pretended euill, and cause him for his treason loose his heade. The Spaniard vexed at the heart, to sée his busi­nesse take no better effect, perswaded himselfe of two euils to choose the least: without any more pause taking, accompanied with others of his confederates in the action, sléeping no time, came to the Knight of the holy Crosse, whom with great show of kindnesse, and many curtesies he saluted, feining great sorow for the wrong offered, perswading him to patience, for that there was no right to bee expected, from them, who sold their lawes, liues, and whatsoeuer for money. And (quoth the traite­rous Spaniard) where such gouernment is, accursed is the land, but more accursed the people: wherefore (quoth he) if you will be ruled by me, that am a Christian, and bound in consci­ence to relieue euery man professing God, much more a man of such estéeme as your self, which with your life hath maintained [Page] his honour in many places, doing good to all people in distresse. Stand not on any thought of your being, or what you haue bin, but considering where you are, rather yéeld your self vnto their fauour for money: without further triall or danger, I will vndertake to buy your libertie. Thē (noble English man) prefer not mony before your life: for being here, if you preuaile against your accusers, yet shall you euer go in danger of secret enemies which will not bee satisfied before they haue your life. I speake as a friend, whose welfare I estéeme. Therefore with wisdome censure of your good, by being counselled, or your peril by being too headstrong: if you accept of my profer, I will take order for your libertie, without any charge of yours: which don, you shal presently be transported to Valencia, a famous citie of Spaine, my ship being readie fraughted for that place, attending but a fayre wind. Whē the knight which during his long preambula­tion, had considered o [...] his speech, he was perswaded y^t he spake but truth, yet could not iudge his secret intent, which made him that hee thought not of any euill to bee pretended by him that professed conscience and christianitie, making this account, that he were better howsoeuer, to be with Christians, then in the hands of such reprobates, being but a money matter, which by his friends, wheresoeuer he became, might shortly be prouided. Wherfore, with many kind courtesies returning hartie thanks to his traiterous friend, he sayd. Kind friend, whose friendship offered I knowe not howe to merit, albéeit my conscience per­swadeth me I shall prosper well in the combatte, assuring my selfe on God, who protecteth his people, yet in regarde of these my followers heere present, as for my libertie, I ac­cept your offer, which I will requite, causing the migh­tiest Prince of Christendome to rewarde thee with thankes, and my selfe with large summes, to satisfie thy debt: where­fore if you intende what you say, spéede about it, that I may know to what euent our friendship will sort.

The Spaniard glad to heare his purposed determination grow to so good a passe, imbracing him, like a seconde Iudas, whom he sought to betray, besought him, not to dismay in any [Page] thing, for all the goodes he had were at his disposing. And so for that time taking his solemne farewell, he left the Knight to manie conceited thoughts of his newe professed friend, him­selfe spéeding to finde the traiterous Ianesaries, who were as faine of his good successe in his businesse, longing to heare what would become of it, whether the Knight cetermined to trie the cause by fight, or otherwise by friendship ende it, as the next Chapter shall shew you.

CHAP. XXXIII.
How the traiterous Spaniard Guido, compounded with the Bashaw for the Knights libertie, with his departure to­wards Spaine, and what then chanced.

NEuer was the tidings of pardon more welcome to the condemned pris [...]ner, ex­pecting death, then this good consent of Edward to Guido, who trauailing in care as the painefull woman labouring with childe byrth, was in a moment freed from that painfull extacie where with ioy neare ouercome, his tongue be­wraying his hearts content, making small stay, but Iudas like (as a Spaniard practising treason) taking his farewell, hee looketh not behinde him, vntill hee came to the lodging of the Ianesaries, vnto whome he came not before he was long loo­ked for: who resting in a quandarie, was as fearefull to trie their accusation by fight, as the Spaniard to abide the hazarde thereof, who noting Guidoes guilfull countenance, their guil­tie mindes gan presage some good euent Beeing mette, as you heare, imagine Gentiles, whether there were anie que­stions left vndemaunded of the Spaniard, touching his late accomplished businesse, which might tend to their welfare, or that the knight intended ought which might bréede their dis­credite. Of all which, when the Spaniard had at large resol­ued [Page] them, recounting from poynt to poynt each seuerall acci­dent chauncing betwéene the knight and him, with what cur­tefie he offered peace and friendship vnto him, whose death he most desired, cloking his villainie with such shewes of loue and friendship of Christianitie, they all laughing for great ioy at the Knights simplicitie, and the traitours knauerie, spent the time froliking together, vntill the next morning, where in their quaffing & drunken discourses, a matter of more perill for the Knight was plotted betwéene them: whose heart being frée from all guile, had not the least suspect of what was intended a­gaynst him, as you shall heare hereafter, where the Historie re­counteth it, and returne nowe to the Ianesaries: who drunke with delight of their glad tydings, wished long for the sight of that ioyfull day to ende all their doubts, which no sooner ap­peared, but the Ianesaries loath to be preuented in what they intended, spéedeth them first vnto their commander the Gaw, and vnto him deliuered the Spaniards suite, and the Bashaw which was for the deliuerance of the Knight for raunsome, be­guiling the simplicitie of the Gaw, with the earnest suit of the Spaniard for him. And offering their good consents, so that therewith contented, omitting nothing which might giue liking, or gaine the good will of those they sought, to theyr wish. All which reportes of them made, was so soothed by Gin­do, that the Gaw, mooued partly with pitie of the knight, and more with gaine of the Crownes offered for his fréedome and libertie, calling for his companie, speedeth vnto the Ba­shaw, whome he found preparing himselfe with all his bra­uerie to beholde the euent of those Combatters, who see­ing the spéedie comming of the Gaw, thought verily that they had béene alreadie attending for his presence, and beganne earnestlie to enquire the cause of his suddaine com­ming so earlie.

The Gaw which was wise and experienced, as be fitted his authority, be sought the Bashaw to withdraw him frō the com­panie when he would deliuer what he had to say. Whi [...]h done, and they all alone, Gaw deliuered each particular which the [Page] Iauesaries and Spaniards had mooued him with all, with his opinion in the same, al tending to that those traitours desired: and the knights libertie, of all which when they had aduisedly considered, although they could well haue giuen their consent to haue ended all matters, yet for fashion sake, they called the rest of their councell, who hearing the matter, stood not long on tearmes, but called for the Spaniard, demanding whether the motion wer made by the knight, or of any other of good wil to­wards him: which Guydo affirmed to come from the knight, and besought him of fauour therein, vndertaking to pay the raunsome, whatsoeuer they would inflict vpon him.

At hearing of the Spaniards large proffer, silence was a­gaine proclaimed, and the Spaniard dismissed, betwéene them agréeing on the summe, and dayes of payment which they rated him: but howsoeuer the Spaniard must not forsake his word, least hee pay the price of the raunsome with his head.

This done, and the articles by them setdowne, which the Spaniard must confirme, hee was againe called, vnto whom the Bashaw sayde. Signior Guydo, those goods parts and discréete carriage of your selfe euer since your comming a­mongst vs, we haue diligently noted, as your selfe in all your businesse haue founde more then all other strangers, and as to­fore, so nowe in this motion you haue made for the reléese of this Christian, whome although our lawes haue condemned for a fact not to bee tollerated in anie, yet at thy earnest re­quest, and motion of those his aduersaries, it is concluded, that for his libertie you pay tenne thousand crownes, the one halfe instantly, and the other at your next returne of shipping from your countrey: which doone, and hee deliuered, you shall awarrant his departure with his companions: the first fayre winde to carrie your shipping hence, or otherwise on his lon­ger stay to be again apprehended, and iudged as before, to en­dure the penaltie of death, as alreadie without further triall. To these conditions if thou agrée, prepare thy money, and [...]ay the Combat, which must otherwise presently procéede. [Page] The Spaniard which had all that hée exspected, hauing his life and possession of him whom he hated decay, humbly thanking the Bashaw for their fauour, thought the prise was high which he was for his pretended treasons was inioyned to paye, set­ting a counterfeit ioy on his gréeued heart, he departed to his lodging, where, by his owne store, and his Countrey mens ayde, he furnished the same: which he presently paide, and had the Prisoner deliuered, whom he most kindly intreated, fea­sting and ioying with him, so long as he remained with him, how vile soeuer he intended hee shoulde bee vsed at his depar­ture. In which time, came the ship, as I haue alreadie tolde you, stayed of purpose for his deliuerance, to carrie him from thence. Whereof, how glad soeuer the Knight and his com­pany was to bee freed from the daungers of those helhoundes, yet was his exchaunge little amended, as you shall héereafter knowe further. Onelye nowe héere resteth to shewe you his embarquing from thence, what successe his hadde, and of his Trayterous vsage at Sea, by Guydoes commaund, you must a while pardon, to heare of the Arriuall of the Gouernour of Genowaye, with the rest of his Nobilitie at Rome.

CHAP. XXXIIII.
How the Gouernor of Genoway holding his word with the counterfeit Knight arriued in Rome, and of theyr enter­tainment.

IT is here remembred, that Vallia in her Knights attyre, after she had by her pollicy and valour freed her commons and coun­trey from the tyrannie of the Dukes of Florence, as you haue heard, inioyned by solemne oath, the Gouernor and the phe­res of the Countrey, to appeare before the Emperour, who in the behalfe of the Princesse Vallia should requite their faithfull trust.

The Gouernour regarding his honour, but more his oath, when he had setled all things in good sort, he paide his owne Souldiours, and richly rewarded his forraine fréendes, with the spoyle of his enemies, to euery mans good content, hauing puruaied a rich and most sumptuous trayne to accompanie him: taking good order for the state and welfare of his com­mons, attended with the chéefest Lords and gentles of the countrey, he left the Cittie and by easie iournies, passed on the way to Rome beguiling the wearinesse of theyr iourney with sundry pastimes and sports, vntill they came by long and di­ligent trauaile to drawe towards the Cittie, when by theyr messengers, they aduertised the Emperour of theyr comming: vnto whome they all were most heartilye welcome, as was manifest by the fauourable and kinde entertainment of theyr tydings bringer: Whome the Emperour most honourablye feasted, dooing him all the honour that coulde bee deuised. With this newes, the Emperour could not bee quiet vntill [Page] hee hadde aduertised the Princesse Vallia with the same: Who knowing better then the Emperour, the onely cause of theyr comming, setled a shewe of much gladnesse at the hearing thereof: then questioning the occasions that brought them thither, wherewith the Emperour was nothing acquain­ted.

The Emperour when he had emparted his newes to the Princesse, summoning his state, and principall of his most ho­nourable counsell, gaue straight charge, for the royall enter­tainment of those states, in the most honourable and best sort that might bée deuised: taking the like order, that all things with such company as hee appointed should bee ready. The next morning by rising of the Sunne, they were horsed to méete those noble straungers on the way, which accordinglye was done in the most gallauntest order that euer coulde be de­uised.

This done, sending theyr curreres before to giue notice of theyr neare approching, they left the Cittie, ryding neere, vntill the sonne had brought the mid day to an ende. At which time, the first intelligencer gaue worde, they had discryed them within tenne miles: and so as on their iourney they drewe neere, they were euer aduertised, as time bringeth the mat­ters of most moment to ende, so these states had ende of theyr desires, time and trauails bringeth both companies, in viewe one of the other, to their great delights: at which enter-viewe a pleasure it was to beholde the youthfull troupe of nobles and gentles, how gallantly they demeane themselues, dooing many braue and commendable feates on their horses, on both sides deseruing such praise as was admirable. In this sort dooing theyr kinde courtesies they passe by eyther companye, vntill the gouernour méete the Emperour: When pro­strating himselfe on his knee, hee drewe neere the Empe­rour offering to kisse his styrrope: which in no wise the most courteous Emperour woulde suffer, but taking him with great loue and honour from the grounde, bid him often­times [Page] heartilie welcome to these confines, which shewes of loue, the Gouernour and his people very well accepted, in such manner, as the ioy thereof enforced them to shedde many teares.

This done, and euery Nobleman and Gentleman haue don the like, enquiring the principall of the Gouernours trayne they equally matched themselues, and passed on theyr way, discoursing very louingly of many pleasant matters, vntill they came to a Castle of the Emperours, called Forte Ven­cencio: Where that night they were most royally feasted, with all delicacye. The next daye, after theyr repast taken for theyr breakfast, they left that place, procéeding on to the ende of their wearie iourney, ryding so long, and with such pleasure, that they had sight of that Cittie. The s [...]ituation whereof, they admyred to behold, with the beautie of Chur­ches, and state of the houses, of honour: but that which most pleased theyr delights, was to beholde the most beautifull Ri­uer Tybres from whose flowing streames, so many pleasant Creekes were filled, and whereon floated so many huge ships, of enestimable woorth, and whereon shewed the Emperours fléete of Gallyes, who séeming to bée enuironed with the assay­ling enimies, most pleasantly, and full of warlike pollicies, laye battering one the other, with their ordinaunces, and as the aduantage was offered, here they entred, and tooke, them others they fired: and the Conquerours tryumphing, brought the others awaye Captiue, after the manner of the Sea.

No sooner hadde this pleasaunt fight left theyr labour, wherein euerie one tooke great pleasure, passing on there­of discoursing, euery man speaking his opinion of the honou­rable fight, and commending the manner of the same, and good performance of the leaders, when suddainlye Am­bushed on a greenes side, where they were assayled by a companie of souldiors, which came to giue them welcome in like sort: from this Ambuscado, discharged they their ordi­nance, and after issued, brauelie assailing the horsemen, who so­dainly [Page] were encountred by another companie, which in like manner first played on them with their field ordinance, and af­ter spent some time in shewing their agilitie and nimblenesse in discharging their shots, doing many notable and commen­dable feates of armes, to the great ioy and chéering of their wearied spirits. That pastime in liste manner ended, the soy­lers casting themselues by their captaines cōmandement into warlike rings, marching close to the stirrup of the Emperour, and the Gouernour, discharging their péeces in their march with great cunning, they bidde the strangers all heartily wel­come, who with great content and courtesie, returned them all most heartie thanks.

This shewe with excellent commendations of all beholders performed, the souldiors marching with their colours displaid, conducted the Emperor and his troupe to the citie, where with other solemne shewes they were by the senate and states, as well abbots as other of authoritie, both spirituall and temporal, as for the vulgar fort, whose cryes and voyces of ioy might wel perswade those strangers for whose sake they were assembled, to be all welcome to them, as to their soueraigne. In this con­tent they arriued at the royall court of the Emperour, where their Princesse Vallia accompanied with a traine of beautifull Ladyes, gaue them many heartie welcomes: vnto whom in all humble acknowledging their loues and duties, by their shewes of obedience, they were all conducted to their seuerall lodgings, royally feasted by the Emperour and his nobilitie, during their stay in the cittie, of which you shall heare more as it shall be re­quired: leauing them to their pastimes & seuerall discourses of their common weale, and state of their countreyes, with the princes: to tell you further of the knight, and his hard entertain­ment at the sea.

CHAP. XXXV.
Howe the Master of the shippe, by the commandement of Guydo their Marchant, chained and imprisoned the knight, and what chanced him.

ALso it hath beene in the former history de­clared of the knights departure to the sea, where they had not long béene, and they from the shore scantly loosing sight of the shippe, but the master which had his lesson before, calling vppe his companie to­gether, willed them to follow him into the cabine, and there to chaine the knight, which hee sayde hee must doo for his and their securitie. The companie, whose loue the knights courtesie had de gene­rally gained, hearing this intended euill against him, who wished them all well, beganne to perswade the master from this intent, which would not heare them, but prosecuted his will, although to his great cost, as it after happened, for the maister whome no perswasions might enduce from his ri­gour, hauing the chaine in his hand, entred the cabine, with him other officers of the shippe, and without saying any word vnto him, violently layde handes vppon him.

The knight wondering to sée this vnexpected wrong offered him, who suspected no such matter, and not knowing their pretence, force perforce grasped with the Maister, and wringing his chaine out of his hands, gaue him so sore a blow on the head, as his braine was therewith besprinckled, and hee lay gaping for that which hee neuer more obtai­ned. The boate-swayne and some others of the cheefe, who who were acquainted with the treason, seeing theyr Maister slaine, assaulted the knight, entending with great tyranny [Page] to reuenge his death, and to make him fast as they hadde pro­mised: but too easie a reckoning made they, for he was more of account then millions of the slaues, as with theyr limbes they were compelled to witnesse, for when the knight who tooke them all for friendes, sawe their intents of euill, and could imagine no cause, defending himselfe, hee so man­fully bare him, that to the diuell hee sent them all to accom­panie him.

When hée had made way in the cabine, and cleared him selfe of those that there assailed him, taking one of their wea­pons, hee rushed violently out vppon the rest, who fledde like shéepe from a dogge: such was the power of an Englishman in multitudes of Spaniards.

By this time the Page and the knight of the Roades who by trecherie was clapped vppe in a cabine, hadde made way for themselues, and with such weapons as they coulde gette, was come vnto him, who noting the timorousnesse of the base villaines, sayde. Vnfaithfull Spaniards, more bruit then beasts, more cruell to Christianitie then the ene­mies of Christ: what wrong haue I offered you, that thus you goo about to bereaue mee of life, whome I loued so dearely: But séeing you base gromes (quoth hee) thus haue without cause mooued my patience, I will not leaue one mothers sonne of you all aliue, to declare your hapleste tragedyes, vnlesse you acknowledge your guil­tinesse, and timely recount vnto mee the originall of this mischiefe, which doo, and saue your liues, or otherwise prepare your selues to follow those traytours that lie before you.

The poore Marriners which were as sorie for the wrong which was offered as himselfe, greeued, humbling them­selues at his feete, besought him of pardon, and not to im­pute the blame of theyr Maisters crime vnto them, for quoth they, wée are his hirelings, vnacquainted with anie in­tended euill against you whom we all honor and was glad of, [Page] if our master had any such charge by the Marchants, or other­wise had any motion of his owne frée will to offende you, that is altogether vnknowne. To shew our innocencie herein, be­hold his sonne that lately commanded vs, him before your eies will we with all crueltie intreate, thereby to find the occasion if we can. And then taking the boy they stripped him, and tying him to the breech of a péece, with cords, whipped him, to make him confesse what the cause was of the wrong offered by his father to the knight. But for any crueltie they could shewe, he would not confesse neither his fathers intent in the action, or where the Marchants letters were bestowed, wherewith the knight was satisfied, and commanded them to rest satisfied: but they which were well vsed to the boyes subtiltie, threatned him with death, without hee confessed what they had requi­red, which obstinately he euer refused, vntill a bold and merci­lesse villaine, which in despight of the boy, more then of trust to the knight, heating oyle boyloing hot, bedropped his naked skinne therewith, which torment the poore boy no longer able to endure, kneeling, cryed out for mercie to the knight, and hée would not onely deliuer the letters, but his armour and wea­pons, so that his life might be saued. At which words, y^e knight commanded them to cease their crueltie, promising on his word of honour, that no man should doo him wrong, but hee would protect him, so that he performed what he had promised, and thereon ceasing their punishment at the knights com­mandement, they expected now to be satisfied from him, what should cleare them from all iealous doubts, wherein the knight helde them, for his harsh and bad entertainement, which made them hasten the boy to his businesse, vrging him to that taske which he was verie loth to be drawne vnto, but perforce com­pelled vnto it, he caused the knight to defende the holde of the ship, where inclosed in a huge drifat, he found his armor & all o­ther his abiliments, and furniture for his bodies defence, in which a packet of letters was inclosed, directed to an honoura­ble person, neare alyed to the Spaniard slaine long before, and master to this Guydo, his last hatefull enemie. The sight of al [Page] which so mooued the Knight to pleasure, that forgetting all o­ther occasions, or minding his Packet, he ioyed onely in pos­sessing his armes, causing the boy to be fréed from his bondes, and with good store of crownes rewarded him.

Now Gentles is to bee remembred, the carefull loue of the Knights Page, who séeing his maisters small regard of those Letters, closely conueyed them into his Pocket, with­out acquainting any man with them, longing to knowe the contents, yet loath to make theyr secretes knowen to anie man.

In this Laborinth of discontent rested the Page two dayes, and more, being verie desirous to knowe the effect of those lines. At last fit oportunitie béeing offered by one of the companie, who in the watch singling the Page, which was euer wakefull for his Knights welfare, he besought the Page of fauour in commending an earnest suite hee had to his mai­ster, which himselfe durst not vtter. To which the Page wil­lingly agréed, on such conditions as hée bound him vnto. One of the Articles of which was, that hée should faythfullie reade, and interprete vnto him truely, either in Italian or French, which the boy best vnderstoode, the true effect of those Letters: And hauing read them faithfullie, with great secrecie to con­ceale them without reuealing the least worde, sillable, or letter therein contained.

This done, and his solemne oath for performaunce made by all holy rites that Spaniards vse to sweare, hée brake the seales, and read the contents of the chiefest, touching our mat­ter, and the knights occasion of further trouble.

The Page, whose heart burned with extreame griefe to heare these conspiracies against his Lord, and was assured hereby, that all their troubles procéeded from that canker of humanitie, & traiterous Spaniard, their most supposed friend, powring forth teares like riuers, which restrained his tongues libertie of spéech, after hee had a while be thought him on this wretched Guydo, enuying ag [...]ynst that Vyper, and his Na­tion, he sayde.

Treacherous and most exe [...]rable homicide, scorne of men, and [...]onster of Christianitie, which vnder shewe of trueth [Page] hast hatched such damnable treason, Villaine that thou art, in place, where all them that professe God is hated, and where loue of Christ and Christians should bée most holilie regarded, there to conspire the death, defame, and subucrsion of a man so honourable and famous as this most noble and well deferuing Knight: for which (periured wretch as thou art) Gods vengeance shall sufficiently requite it, and all those thy abbettors and fauourits in this stratagem, false and dissem­bling Spaniard. And thou my most renowmed maister, princely Lord Edward, howe simple wast thou in crediting so lightly aslaue of no more worth then this vilde misereant, har­bouring in thy simple breast the serpent that sought thy life, not like a man in anie valorous manner, but like a Spaniard, by treason and subornation of periurie, for money, buying and selling him, whose woorth is more woorth then Spaine, and all whatsoeuer is resident within the terrifories of that accur­sed Nation. But why spende I time exclaiming on thée and them that sought my Lordes life; and acquaint not his honour with those practises of this slaue borne Spaniard, this Iudas that betrayed the life of this so renowmed Knight, that hee knowing the treasons conspired agaynst him, may first on these Villaines of that crewe and cursed fellowship, bee ex­treamely reuenged, and after on all those Vipers, till hee hath rooted from the earth all such as carrie but the name of Spaniardes: so shoulde the broode and spring of treason bee pulled vppe by the roote, and those aspiring enemies, which séeke by treach [...]rie to inuade Kingdomes, and by coyne to drawe subiertes duties from theyr Soueraignes, buying Kinges, and Countreyes for money, be layde open to their cur­sed and diuelish practises: from whose deceytes, fayre promi­ses, and high conspiring treasons, God kéepe euerie Eng­lish heart, confounde in his wrath all those practises they in­tende agaynst the state, and commons of my blessed and peaceable Countrey England. Whilest he was in his inuer­tiue agaynst Spaine and Spaniards, the Knight whome regarde of his welfare kept from sléepe, hearing all quiet [Page] abroad, and the night calme and fayre, left his loathsome Ca­bin to take the ayre, and comming vnawares by the Page, heard the conclusion of his long perambulation: with which he desired to be acquainted. But the Page on the suddaine being taken, though he would, could not colour with any shew those Practises. But drawing those letters, whose contents he so lately had knowledge off, besought his Lord with very ear­nest sute to peruse them, and as he found, so to take héede how he or any Englishman hereafter, trust any trayterous Spani­ard. The Knight musing what mooued the Page to these hu­mours, retyred againe to his Cabine, calling for a light: read their contents, which moued his patience, and cloyed him with melancholie, to which we leaue him.

CHAP. XXXVI.
How the Gouernour and Nobles of Genoway, in tryumph before the Emperour had knowledge of their Champion Don Philippo, and what chanced.

IT hath béen recounted, of the honourable enterfainment of the gouernour and his company, with the honours done them by the Emperor, who in fauour of the Prin­cesse Alinda, graced them with all the kindnesse and honor that might extend to strangers and the subiects of his beloued friend: These noble strangers renowmed in the Court, passing the time with all honourable pastimes, night and day, which could be deuised. Many waies by their own fauourers and followers, they diligently enquired of their champion Philippo, as well to thanke him for his seruice, im­ployed for their good, and fréeing them from their enemies, as to grace him with the Emperour, by their good reports of his deserts, which albeit they had often acquainted the Emperour [Page] with all, yet was not that sufficient recompence as they thought, for a man of such worth, and his desert, This strange­nesse of the knight caused many doubts to arise among them, for that hee had ioyned them on their honours to make theyr apperance before his Emperiall maiestie, and he absent, whom they with such louing desire wished to see. But if they grew perplexed thereat, iudge the Emperours discontent, who measuring all honourable actions, especially the forward aduenturing souldiour, was more mooued at his silence and concealing himselfe then the rest, and the more for that his seruice in a time of such daunger and hazard of the whole seignorie, hadde for his friends benefit and good of the whole Dukedome, béene so employed, that amongst his cogitations and thoughts of discontent, ioyed in hearing the honourable aduentures of the knight, so largely recounted.

Resting thus in an extasie, often moued to melancholie, through the knights absence, whom he more desired to know, then to enioy great riches, the nobles and hee in their secret conference many wayes deuised howe they might attaine what they so earnestly wished, in the ende, after manie ima­ginations howe to effect their purpose, the Emperour bée­ing verily perswaded hée was not of his Court, that hadde for honour of his excellencie fauoured him with Title of one of his Knights, for that by their discription hee coulde enquire none such, to bee resident in the Cittie, or might for any enquirie finde any hope of, neuer knowing him, yet as the desirous minde louing to effect his purpose, lea­ueth no way vnsearched, howe hard or vnlikely soe­uer.

The Emperour bethought him to proclaims a generall challenge at armes, appoynting great prises for them that best deserued them, beléeuing verily that if hee were eyther in his Court or his regiment, hee coulde not beeing a man at Armes, holde himselfe in secret from a place where honour was to bee gayned: Hereof the whole estate concluding, He­raulds were dispatched to all Cities within the empire, proclai­ming [Page] very diligently the triumph which was to be holden be­fore the Emperour, at tilt, turney and barriers, with their seue­rall prises.

Alinda which had often conference with the nobles of her countrey, tooke great pleasure to heare them discourse the ho­nour of the knight, which although she could better acquaint them with, yet to shewe a minde of honour, shee wished to know him, to the ende she might reward him: but all in vaine, the time was not come vntill shee pleased to reueale her selfe.

The time spending limited by proclamation, for those that intended to shewe their forces, and gaine honour, brought from all places Princes and Nobles of great account, euerie one like themselues, desiring the Emperours grace, spa­red no charge, as well in sumptuous furnishing theyr retinew, as in their excellent deuises, and shewe of rare and incomparable wealth, which greatly pleased the Empe­rour to beholde, who longed for the day wherein hée might sée the issue of this deuise, and ende of his hope in knowing the kn [...]ght.

The princesse Vallia, whose head was not idle, deuising what shee might best do for her honour, and satisfying the Em­perour and those nobles who loued and honoured her in her melancholy dumps, called vnto her Alynda her trustie ser­uant, and to her disclosed the great desire of the nobles and the Emperour to méete the knight, which had with such honor be­haued him in their wars, earnestly intreating her, as before in many exigents, now she would bethinke her how she might in the assemblie shew her selfe, and escape vnknowne. Alinda which was not vnacquainted with the princesses conditions, felt her presently, and bethinking howe desirous shee was to shewe the noblenesse of her minde, tooke that charge vppon her, assuring the Princesse that if shée would bée ruled by her, shée woulde nowe satisfie her minde heerein, and a­gainst the time, though it were but short, furnish her with all things necessarie to her content: at which consent of [Page] her Alynda, without whome she was not her selfe, embracing her, and after for ioy kissng her chéekes, shee gaue her manie thankes, and many bountiful promises of reward, which was as much as Ailnda required, whose care was wholly to winne and maintaine the Princesses loue vnto her, as by her dutifull loue and seruice was euer shewen.

CHAP. XXXVII.
How the Princesse, by Alindaes helpe, was furnished like: Knight at armes.

NOw followeth (gentles) that I recount vn­to you, the care and great regard of Alin­da for the Princesse, who vsed such dili­gence, that against the prefixed time of tur­ney, the princesse was puruaide of al néed­full things, horse, armour, launce, and cur­ [...]elex, fitting the most accomplished knight in those confines.

The princesse séeing all thing so exquisite puruaide, high­ly in her heart commended her trustie seruaunt, whose kind­nesse and loue shee valued of more estéeme then all the trea­sures the earth can affoord, contemplating some time on the woorthinesse of a faithfull friende, and the deliuerance of a seruaunt: shee called sodainely her Alynda vnto her, vnto whom she said. Alinda, faithfull and kind Alinda, in many ex­periments and great occasions I haue found thy loyaltie and trust such, that my studies are wholly how to requite thée, wherefore my trust (quoth the princesse) and therewithall em­bracing her in her armes of tender loue, bedewing her chéekes with teares, willed her to aske whatsoeuer was in her power to giue, & she shuld haue it. Alinda which saw her Lady in this humor, thought she looked for no lesse then was then offered, rendering thanks for her gracious opinion, with prety concei­ted parley put off their talke for that time, beséeching her to [Page] make triall of those things which she had promised, whereunto the princesse agréed.

Alynda first opening her Trunke, suted her first in a dou­blet and hose: that done, arming her in all poynts, shée séemed second to none, but a knight of as great woorth as any. What seuerall spéeches of commendations passed at her arming, I o­mitte, lette Ladyes which for recreation sometimes amongst themselues vse like merriment, censure of the rest, onely I shall recount vnto you Alinda her forgetfulnesse, that hauing all other things beséeming what she had vndertaken, wanted a shield with some deuise to present his imperiall maiestie, as the manner of men at armes is. This forgetfulnesse Alinda in her selfe greatly blamed, that prettily excused her selfe to anoyde blame, which the princesse with a pretie iest put off, laying both their heads together for performance of their want, and fitting their deuise answerable, first setting downe one thing, then an­other, all séeming good and verie effectuall, yet euerie seuerall counsell surpassing other, they were doubtfull which to except, Standing thus astonied, Alinda, which was euer at the dead lift most sharpest witted, thus sayd. Madame, your grace hath many times carried good and gracious opinions of me, which I desire may euer be continued towards me, if now my credit may be such with you, referre this charge vnto me, and doubt not but it shal be effected to your content. Inough Alinda quoth the princesse, I take thy word, and on thy care relie, be it as shou wilt: so disarming her selfe, and attyring her in her owne attyre, accompanied with her ladies and Gentlewomen of ho­nour, entred the presence, where shee found the Emperor and those nobles of Genoway, vnto whom she was most heartily welcome: whom to their pleasant discourses we leaue, to tel you further of Alynda, and her carefull regard of her promise to the princesse.

CHAP. XXXVIII.
How Alinda against the prefixed time of trumph, presented her Lady in the appoynted place of triumph, and what chanced.

YOu haue heard gentles in the former chapter of the princesse fortunate meeting with the nobles in presence of the Empe­ [...]erour, wherein was many discourses as occasion was offered, but among al, whe­ [...]her serious matters for the state, or iole [...]oying [...]rattle to beguile time, the remem­braunce of Philippo, the knight so much of the Genoway nobles applauded and honoured was neuer forgotten, for whome they oftentimes with teares, di [...]taining their tender cheekes, bewayled his want of company, and more greeued for that they all doubted of his welfare, by reason of his breach of promise with them, not shewing himselfe to them, which came onely of purpose to méete him there. But to our matter.

As time nor tyde stayeth not, so the long desired day is come, wherein those noble personages, whereof the numbers was great, that from al princes courts where they there assem­bled, must trie their for [...]es, amongst which there wanted nothing, which to honour and armes appertained, each thing with such cost and diuersitie of deuises, as not onely the rare­nesse of the shewes delighted, but the cost and excéeding rich­nesse was more admired, so that a generall plauditie was giuen the Emperour for his bountie, curtesie, & exceeding cost.

These things ordered & all other néedful matters befitting the time and the place. The princesse which were before appoin­ted to bee principall beholders of these pastimes, could not deuise with what cunning deuise to bring her desires to [Page] effect, for which she grew so melancholike, that her nearest attendants durst not come neare her, fearing to offende her. These passions Alinda well noted, and sought many wayes in her subtile shifting head, to disburthen her Lady of those great greeses: so long deuising, that shée thought no way so suf­ficient as to cause her cunningly to counterfeit some distem­perature of her bodie, and hereon resoluing, without acquain­ting the Princesse therewith, shee presently sent worde by the Princesse Squire to the Emperour, of the ill distem­perature of the Princesse, whome shee willed further to say as occasions were offered and questions demaunded, of the manner of her agonie, to tell him, that about the middest of the night, all being in their dead sléep, sodainely the princesse started out of her bedde, running about the chamber like one lumatike, crying nothing but on her Lorde, Edward, Edward, of England, bitterly crying and exclaiming her Lord Edward was slaine, that she would come to auenge her on those miscre­ants that had murthered him.

With this message the gentleman being parted, hasteneth to the Court, and came so earlie, as none of the priuie cham­ber were stirring, yet made such meanes as hee best coulde to deliuer his message, which no sooner the Emperour heard, with the manner and straunge efficacie of her maladie, but nearely touched with the vnhappie hearing thereof, hée called for his apparrell, and sending for his learnedest phisitians, hée questioned of the occasion of the princesse gréefe and vnaccustoined agonyes, wherewith they were all astonied, yet taking aduise amongst themselues, diuersly censuring the occasion, they deliuered theyr opinions thus, that the princesse often meditating on her Lorde in his absence by some fearefull dreame, might bee in her sléepe combred, and doubted not after some quiet rest, but shee shoulde re­couer her health againe. This comforted the Empe­rour, who more regarded her health then all the worlde, of such tender affection was his loue to the Princesse plan­ted.

[Page] Now Alynda that had platted her deuise vnknowne to the princesse, when she had sent her messenger away, came vnto the Princesse, and vnto her deliuered the discourse of her in­tention, which somewhat astonished the princesse, and put her to an nonplus, that not knowing how a matter so beganne, should be so cunningly effected, but some likelihood of dissem­bling would appeare, she exclaimed on Alinda, rattling and re­uiling her for her presumption in attempting a matter so neare­ly touching her honour, without acquainting her therewith.

Alinda which hadde endured more showers and greater thunder cracks then the princesse could now rattle, quietly dis­gested her extremitie of spéech, but no sooner gan the winde to o­uerblow, and the heate of her rage allayed: but Alynda which held her credite great, and carefully héeding her Ladies good, submitting her selfe to the princesse, she besought her to regard all their goods, who had done this for her Ladiships good, and to colour all which, and well effect her desires, faine some long sléep, that if the Emperor shuld send to sée her, they which shuld come might haue no spéech with her. To this counsel of her old suresby the princesse listned, & promised to performe what she directed. Scantly had they questioned of effecting what they wished, but one knocking easily at the chamber doore, brought word that the Emperor with his phisitians were come to visit the princesse: to whom Alinda returned this answere with out aduisement, that she was lately fallen asléepe, and besought his highnesse to pardon her a while, and forbeare to comber her, whom they all hoped would be well amended by her rest. The Emperor whose carefull doubts of her health, might not so be satisfied, would haue no deniall, but taking with him two phisi­tions, entred her chamber, so easily as might not awake her: all which demeanour of theirs, the princesse listned héedefully vnto, and with great delight noted the lamentable discourse of Alinda, relating the meane of her disease, which made the Princesse smile to her selfe, and oftentimes to frame her fittes accordingly, to the great admiration of the Emperour and all the beholders, which more gréeued them, [Page] especially the emperor, for that the time of pastime was so néer, which they might not with honor recall. This dispairing of the Princes health, when the Emperor had bin an [...]ie witnesse of, what was reported, loath to awake her whom he thought slept soundly: as quietly without any noise making as he could, hee left her to her rest, calling a councell amongst his nobilitie what was best to be done, either for proroging y^e appointed pastimes, or performing thē, according as they were expected. On which they had with diuersitie of counsaile, and sundrie opinions de­bated, it was generally concluded, the triumphs to begin and hold, wheron a trumpet sounded at the court gate, to giue eue­rie combattant notice thereof, whereat the Princes and Alyn­da ioyed much. The Emperor, though his care was great, and sorrow more for the Princes sicknes, yet shewed himselfe froi­like, the better to welcome the Princes strangers, whō he wold not willingly discontent. But framing himself to mirth, as he best could, not without some touch of heauinesse, he bad them almost hartily welcome, passing the time of dinner which they made shorter, by reason of their great businesse, whom to their preparations we leaue, to returne to the princesse and Alynda, who not idle, but busily imployed about their affayres: after the Princesse by Alynda had giuē straight charge, that none shuld be so hardy to come néere her lodging, she armed herselfe, and at the time appointed was fully furnished as she could desire, Alynda being likewise suited, in rich attyre, be fitting more the gallantest Courtier, then a Ladie. After she had prepared all things and their horses orderly brought to the place by her ap­poynted, the princes attending to heare of the Emperors com­ming to the place of triumph, worde was brought Alynda, by her trustie messenger, which was no sooner heard, but Alynda mounting herselfe on her hackney with a horne richly bawde­rickt about her necke, posted towards the Emperor. By which time the tilters were ready to ioyne. But hearing Alinda wind her horne (as the vsuall maner of pastimes is) they made stay of their courses, and discharged their staues. The Emperor and all the Nobles hearing this sudden approch of a post, sent pre­sently [Page] a herauld to know the meaning, and what hee was that entred the place in such manner, by whom she was brought to the Emperors presence, where doing her dutie as shee that could well demeane her selfe, she said. Muse not (magnificent and mightie Prince) at this suddaine comming of a stranger: the simple messenger of a Knight aduenturous, who on some vrgent occasions hath made longer stay, then either he desired, or his dutie would allow: yet not willing to loose this oportuni­tie of shewing his loue vnto your excellencie, is now, though too too late, arriued in this citie, and by me craueth to bee accepted into this noble assembly, to shew his forces in honour of your highnesse, amongst those honoured Princes and estates. The Emperour, and all the assembly attentiuely listning to the mes­senger, commended highly the audacious d [...]meanor of the sup­posed young man, thinking his maister to be no other but as the messenger reported, and loath to refuse his proffer, with­out enquirie from whence he was, or of what degree, they willing with a generall voice sayde, he should be most heartilie welcome, causing a herauld to commaund the company to stay vntill the Knights comming. Alynda hauing made this in­termedium to their purpose, made no tarrying, but with al pos­sible haste returned where she left the Princesse, who being al­readie mounted, attending her Alynda, who no sooner had the Emperours aunswere, but setting forwards, guided by her tru­stie Page Alynda, they arriued shortly at the place of triumph, into which entring, bowing her selfe vnto her horse necke, vnto those she first met, she passed her horse by y^e tilt, with such a coū ­tenance, and maiestical grace, that euery one admired, both her person, and good demeanour, euery one censuring of her, yet none knowing what he should be: comming néer vnto the place where the Emperour was, in like maner with thrée lowly and courtlike courtesies, shee saluted him: where staying, Alynda deliuered her shéeld, vnto his princely hands wheron was por­traied her own pioure aruied, holding in chaines thrée princes, which subiected themselues to her, sw [...]aring their loyaltie vnto her: her woorde, kéepe faith with thy friende. Th [...] sheelde [Page] [...]eliuered, among all the [...] many times reuiewed, as this, [...] which he much admired, crauing of those [...] of the same, & desirous to knowe (if they [...] knight was: The knights hauing al their companie [...] the stranger knight, desiring him to make choise of [...] run against, desiring the king of heralds which there waited, to read the names of the the Tilters vnto him, which he had in a C [...]talogue. The princesss humbly thanking thē for their loue an [...] [...] calling Alynda vnto her, commanded her to go the Emperor, and to craue at his hands, to trie against all comers, his [...], for that by oath he was so enioyned, by the Ladie he mo [...]t honour [...]d, beseeching the princes and royall companie not to take in any [...]ll part this request of his, which was ready to kisse [...] humblenesse. The Emperour which saw [...] sh [...]w of bodie in armor, was loath to hazarde him to any gr [...]t [...] or by his too hastie licence, to graunt that he might After report knowing the toyle, and perill in­cedent to such assayres: yet considering his vowe made, as his messenger deliuered, and not knowing what sufficiencie the knight [...]und in himself, craued him in his behalfe, the com­pany would accept him, whereon they stood not long, put gran­ted: at which the Princesse was most ioyfull: so preparing her selfe, with such courage shee discharged on the Polonian Prince that first mette her, as shee bare him violently to the ground, with such force, that had not helpe béene neare, he had beene spoyled of his limmes, so that wearied with this first bad fortune, and dishonour in the action, hee gaue ouer that dayes tryumph, in whose place met her Armedes of Tusran, a noble Duke, which she likewise foyled: at which such admira­tion grewe, that there was no spéech, but of the white Knight, so called by his Armes, being not other-wise knowne. Let it suffice, the honour of the day by generall consent was giuen vnto her, whome the Emperour and all the rest, desi­red to knowe, inuited her to lodge within his Court, which shee humblie denyed, returning manie great thankes [Page] [...] herselfe in such sor [...], as th [...] [...] to recount his courtesies, bu [...] [...] gallant courage of him selfe in armes. [...] by the Emperour to depart, wee leaue the [...] her pleasure, ioying in her good fortunes, and [...] herselfe, and the Emperor to his imaginations [...] knights, what sundry speeches at supper passed in court, of her honours gained, I omit, let it suffice all persons, as well that receyued foyle, as others, gaue the honour and commendations to her. What other occasions happened her, with the Emperors knowledge of this feigned Knight, I omit: for that the Hystorie leaues them so. The third and last part shall shew Prince Edward his successe in all his troubles hap­pening in his trauailes: the méeting of the Princesse with her [...]oble husband, and honours of the two yong Lords, Nartel­lion, and Constantine, with their conquest: which shall bring thée more delight, if so thou accept this▪ Till when, and euer, I craue your pardons and good opinions, to be censured of this, which shall encourage me to finish the rest, and euer de at your deuotion.