THere dwelt in the Isle of Sicily, an old Gen­tleman, reverent for his yeares, wise in Counsell, vertuous in life, and rich in pos­sessions, named Clida­mas, yet was not fortune so much his friend in giving him wealth, as nature in inriching him with two Daughters, the elder whereof was named Calanthia, and the younger Florella.

Not farre from the dwelling of old Clidamas, there liv'd two young Gentle­men, [Page 2] not brothers by birth, yet as much or more then brothers by affection, the elder named Cleanthes, and the younger Polidore; equall they were in all things save in age, of equall height, of equall wit, of equall beauty, of equall strength; their valour such, that Cleanthes never found a match for himselfe before hee tried Poli­dore, neither could Polidore be ever paral­lel'd by any other then Cleanthes: oft had they tried their forces against stran­gers, and as oft had they come off to their adversaries disgrace, and their owne glo­ry; oft had they tried their own strengths together, and as oft given over with­out any disadvantage on either side: so that perceiving neither to be the better, they gave over further proofes, and con­cluded, that since neither could brag of o­thers overthrow, they would from thence forth perticipate of each others honours.

In this sort long they lived, haunting all places where honour was to bee pur­chased, and where ever they came, doing such admirable deeds of armes, that their fame spead it selfe, not onely over Sicily, but also over the greatest part of Greece [Page 3] and Italy, so that Cleanthes and Polidore were generally reputed the onely Cheva­liers in those parts.

Long it was ere these famous Martialists (not yet weaned from the sweates of war­like honours) tasted the bitter-sweets of Cupids Artillery, till it fortuned that Callanthia and Florella (who were as fa­mous for beauty as they for valour) passed by their Castle, when both at one instant saw them, both at one instant liked them, both at one instant lov'd them, both at one instant protested they were Goddesses, both at one instant vowed to injoy them; both at one instant were about to runne out of the Castle and seize on them, and yet both at one instant accounting it a dishonour to offer violence to weake women, and wise­ly pondering the danger that might arise thereof, desisted from such an enterprise; yet still continued they gazing, extolling above measure the excellency of their fa­ces, and the sparkling luster of their radi­ent eyes, calling them (by overstrain'd hy­perboles) Starres, Sunnes, Angels, or indeed any thing that love-sicke imagi­nation fancieth, till by their continued [Page 4] motion their eyes were denyed the sight of their faces; but then fell they to ad­miring of their back-parts, praysing (be­yound measure) the decency of their gar­ments, setting downe for an absolute con­clusion, that never could garments bee so extraordinarily well fashioned, unlesse an extraordinarie excellent mould were un­der them, thus by things seene, they ga­thered the perfection of things not seene, making their eyes beare them company till they were quite out of sight.

But then their eyes being robbed of their felicitie, imagination fell harder to worke; yet in all this time did neither take heede to the others passions, each were so busied in his owne particular con­templation, so being both wearie of eithers company (it being the nature of love to affect lonelinesse) they agreed without any motion made to either, to depart asunder, yet remembring their an­cient friendship, they were once about to returne to take leave of one another, but the remembrance of their new love drow­ned this part of good manners, yet did each marvaile at the others strangenesse, [Page 5] and still imputed the cause to himselfe, determining when occasion should serve to finde an excuse, which tooke away all cause of debate betweene them, neither dreaming that the other was taken as wel as himselfe, but either steadfastly perswa­ded that himselfe was the onely aime of Cupids archery, in these imaginations either departed from the other to their private Chambers.

Twice had the Sunne runne his diurnall race, and still these lovers continued in their solitarinesse, not talking at meate as they were wont to do aforetime, but both would fit silent and still, thinking more of the beauty of their mistrisses, then either of meate or table-talke, yet remembring themselves they would sometimes cast forth a stealing looke, to spie whether the one perceived the others manner of carri­age, when if these their stolen glaunces hapned to be at one instant (as sometimes they were,) Cleanthes would blush, as a shamed to be seene by Polidore, and Poli­dore would change colour, as loth to have his passion noted by his deare Cle­anthes.

[Page 6]At length solitarinesse (to which they had not formerly beene used) grew weari­some to them, and either desired to make his friend pertaker of his secret thoughts; in this Sympathy of affection, one day, when the Sunne was descending to his westerne habitation, they grew more fa­miliar, and after some unncessary chat, they resolved to walke into the fresh ayre of the fragrent fields, to which they had now these two dayes beene stran­gers; a long time for them that had beene brought up abroad in the fields, and taught to rouse the savage lyon from his den, and to follow deeds of armes, and not to spend their time within doores, in a private chamber crossing their armes, and crying heyho to see the strangenesse of loves laby­rinths.

Not farre from this castle, there was a spacious and thicke wood, so frequently beset with aged oakes, and straight uprea­red pines, as if Lady Nature had entended to make that place as a common arbour for the neighbouring region; & so indeede it was used, for thither resorted the chiefest persons of the land, women and [Page 7] lovers to heare the ravisht Philomel lament the cruelty of her false brother in law, others (that were not lovers) came thither to hunt the fearefull stagge or brisling bore; the ground of the wood was strowed with the richest of natures tapistery, there grew the sweetbrier, and the white rose, the dazy, the yellow cowslip, the honi­suckle, and the lovely violet, of which faire Ladies use to make themselves sweet garlands, thither it was that Callanthia and Florella were walking, when these two friends first hapned to see them, and thither they themselves were now going, as if love had guided them to that place of purpose, to make it more famous by beeing private to the loves of so true a paire.

With one consent they walked on till they came to a thicket of pine trees, whose overgrowne tops were so thickly spread, and so interchangably intangled each in o­ther, that they made a most solitary shade, utterly denying the tell-tale Phaebus any prospect to the place, that else would be too familiar in love [...]s secrets; this place they thought the fittest for their purpose, and therefore sitting both downe upon the [Page 8] grasse, they remained a good while silent, as desiring one should know the others se­crets, and yet either loth to disclose his se­crets, because they were love; Thus long they sate, till at the last Cleanthes trusting to the gentlenesse of Polydore, thus be­gan.

If what I speake, sound harsh in thine eares, or if when I have told thee my greifes, thou intendest to reproove my folly, as I know thou wilt, I pray thee Polidore doe it gently, and remember (I beseech thee) that howsoever faulty, yet I am thy friend, trust me (my Polidore) had not fate, une­vitable fate, laid this mischance upon mee, I thinke I had beene still as free as thou.

Soone was Polydore wrought to be kind to Cleanthes, because he made no question but that hee should have neede of the same from him, and (therefore with a forced smile) he told him, he should finde a kinde tutor of him, and so bad him proceede; which hee, (after a volly of sighes) thus did.

I know not Polidore, whether ever thou hast heard tell of a Diety (unknowne I must [Page 9] confesse to souldiers, and therefore I thinke not knowne to thee) called Love, for mine owne part, I have often heard tell of him, but never gave credit to the report, but al­waies imagined it to be the idle imaginati­on of a franticke braine, till of late I thinke, himselfe, knowing himselfe dispi­sed, is come to revenge himselfe on mee for so neglecting him, for my Polydore (and then he blusht) not long since it was my chance leaning out of the castle window, to behold two gentlewomen exceeding beautifull both, especially one, whose eyes (me thought) shot fiery arrowes at my heart and wounded it, so that from that time thy poore Cleanthes, hath beene in such an a­gony of distresse, that I hope thy heart (deare Polidore) will never feele the like, whether she were a humaine creature, or a celestiall goddesse come of purpose to de­lude mee I know not, for since I never saw her; imagine my deare Polidore, but alas to what purpose? for thou canst never im­magine what continuall fires, what perpe­tuall frosts, what everlasting tortures, har­bour in a lovers brest, thou canst not Poly­dore, no, thou canst not amongst all the le­gends [Page 10] of afflicting torments find out one to parallell a lovers anguish, thou wilt tell me of Ixions wheele, alas, that is a rest to the perpetuall circumvolutions in a lovers heart, thou wilt tell mee of Prometheus vulture, alas, what vulture can gnaw so fiercely as the griffin care doth on my poore heart (for I am now a lover) thou wilt tell me of the fifty daughters of false Danaus and their bottomlesse tubs, alasse what are they to the bottomlesse pit of my affections, which a whole sea of fancies cannot fill; I expect now that thou shoul­dest chide me, but thy word is past, and thou hast rather cause to pitty me; howso­ever if thou beest angry with mee (as thou hast cause enough) I prithee keepe thy word, and chide me gently, else thou wilt adde more to a soule that is already prest with two heavie a burthen.

Glad was Polydore when hee heard him name love, yet that joy was not lasting, for hee imagined, his friend had perceived some thing by him, and therefore might use this as a way to sound him, but per­ceiving by the continuance of his speech, that what hee spake, hee spake hartily; a [Page 11] new feare possessed him, who this gentle­woman should bee, extreamely fearing it should bee his mistresse, thinking (as every lover doth) that she was the onely woman in the world, worthy to be loved; yet some what glad that his friend Cleanthes was caught as well as himselfe, hee made this reply.

Is it possible that Cleanthes should be in­tangled in loves net? can it bee that hee should bee hit with Cupids bird bolt? nay, then I see it is no shame for such fooles as I to love, when so wise a man as Cleanthes is overtaken, thinke not I speake this in derision friend, for heaven knowes, and my conscience knowes, that Polydore feeles as much torture for love, as Cleanthes possibly can; onely in this I am happie, that having so good a president, I neede not be ashamed to love, nor afraid of rebuke from you, that are caught in the same ginne: Trust me Cleanthes, Cupid was politicke in this for had he smote one only, surely your strong perswasions and infor­cing arguments, would have so much pre­vailed, that I should have shaken off all thoughts of love, and rather have smothe­red [Page 12] my affection, though it might have cost me the hazard of my life, then have enter­tained any thing that might have beene di­stastefull to Cleanthes, and by mine owne thoughts I measure thine, but now since we are both so stroken, that the one cannot re­buke the other, unlesse he will of necessity blame himselfe, let us in stead of chiding, cherish one another, and with our best en­deavours aide each other, in the attaining, of our desires; it could not chuse but ex­ceedingly glad Cleanthes to heare with what a congruity, love had endued both their affections; but then the same feare came upon him that had before invaded Polydore, least perchance, his friend should bee in love with his mistresse, but that feare soone after vanished too, for by sundry inquiries, and divers markes, which either had imprinted in their memory, they truly perceived that Callanthia was Cleanthes his mistresse, and Florella Polydores; so that not knowing now, why either should bee offended at other, or have any cause to grieve, if so bee their mistresses would prove gratiōs, they resolved that, to put that in tri­all, was their next taske, in which they were [Page 13] mutually to aide one another, and in this resolution, they left the wood, and went home to their castle.

Long it was not, ere they learned who, and what their sweethearts were, wherupon they grew into acquaintance with old Clydamas, which was not hard for them to doe, they being men of so great note, and he a man of so affable a nature, that he wil­lingly intertained the acquaintance of any, that were vertuously given, howsoever strangers, so that he thought himselfe to be highly graced, to bee familiar with two such men as Cleanthes and Polydore: and they thought themselves no lesse happie, in being entertained into the friendship of Clydamas.

Thus past they some time onely in mutu­all hospitality, without any speech of love on either side, till on a time Clydamas inviting them home to his house to a ban­quet, after the feast was ended, he had them into a goodly garden inbroidered with the chiefest of Floras jewels, in the midst where­of, was a most curious arbour of sweet­brier, into which leading the two friends, and seating them on either side himselfe, he thus spake unto them.

[Page 14]Gentlemen, before I was acquainted with you, and knew you only by report, I loved you, esteeming you to be men worthy to be beloved, but since growing into more fami­liarity with you, that love is so much more nicreased, by how much the more my know­ledge of you is bettered: I love not to flat­ter, neither would I have you to grow proud at my speeches, (and therewith hee smiled,) but this I will boldly say, that if the gods would promise to give me two sonnes, endued with such qualities as I would wish thē, you should be y^e patternes, that I would set the gods to work by; did I want valiant men to defend my just cause, I would send the whole world over to finde out you; did I want boone companiōs to passe away the time with, I would picke out you; did I want a friend to intrust my secrets with, it should be one of you: you may wonder per­haps, to what end tends this preamble, why trust me worthy friends, to such an end that if it hit with your humours, (as I would wish it) it may be to the good of us all.

I cannot tell whether you have heard reported, how in former times, the gods had blessed mee with a paire of sonnes, [Page 15] whom I cannot praise, because it was my hard fortune to loose them, before either themselves could tell what honour meant, or I, or indeede any man tell, to what end the fates had reserved them, yet was their expectation great with all men: for being but nine yeares old, they gave forth such evident signes of a hopefull valour, that it amazed strangers, & joyed me exceedingly, to heare how they were generally praised, even in their childish exercises; but now begins the tragedy (& with that the teares trickled downe his faire white beard) for as they were playing together on the Sea­shore, certaine Sea-rovers espying them, tooke them and forcibly carried them a­bourd their gally, presently hoisting up their sailes and getting away, maugre all our endeavours, who presently made after them with what speede wee might, but to no purpose, for they labouring with saile and oare, so farre outstripped us that it was impossible for us to overtake them, and therefore seeing that we laboured in vaine, with sorrowfull hearts wee turned backe againe, leaving my deare children behind, of whom since then I never heard any ty­dings; [Page 16] This sorrow comming to the mothers eare, who was then great with child and neere her time, it so wrought on her, that she presently fell in travile, and in travile died, yet did she leave (to comfort my old age) these two daughters whom you know, and indeede they have beene hitherto a comfort to mee, I will not say too much of them, because they are mine owne: yet thus much I may say, that they are vertuous, and since the gods have be­reft me of my sonnes, I suppose they have in some sort made me a recompence, in be­stowing on me such daughters, as may by their fortunate marriages inrich mee with two noble sonnes in law, and those I have determined to be you, if you can like of them, or if your affections be not setled otherwhere; thinke them not the worse because they are profered, but thinke ra­ther, that it is a sure presage of a following good, to have a full assent on all parts, for how ever I give you my consent, yet doe I limit it to your and their liking; for I will not bee the maker of inforst matches; therefore if you have heeretofore, or doe now newly, entertaine any liking to my [Page 17] daughters, here you have my consent, as esteeming you worthy sonnes in law, whom I have found to bee such worthy friends; on therefore freely, and if you like them, woe them, for mine owne part, now I have given you thus much way, I will be neither a hindrance, nor a furthe­rer to your attempts, but either betake himselfe to his best cunning.

You may imagine, it was some comfort to the poore lovers to have such a way laid open to them, for well they knew that it was requisite to get the fathers good will, if they would have the match pleasing and fortunate, therefore without any further circumstances, Cleanthes in the name of himselfe, and his friend Poli­dore thus spake.

For the love worthy sir which you have had to us, wee are rather to thanke your goodnesse, then any deserts in our selves, your age being more apt to fancy where you finde the least occasion of lik­ing, then our youth able to merit any thing to make you fancy us, howsoever we are the more bound to you, for inrich­ing us with your love, that have no title [Page 18] to lay claime to it by. Of the unhappy losse of your hopefull sonnes, some glimmering of knowledge we have had heretofore, but never the truth till now from your selfe, in which you have related such a continu­ed race of sorrow, knit up with so admira­ble a period of joy, that if your report urged teares from us, your conclusion was of sufficiency to dry them; the losse of your sonnes was much, the losse of your wife much, and indeede I know not which we should esteeme the greater losse, but for these two losses, the Gods have returned you a large recōpence, foure for three, two daughters (whom I know not whether the earth can paralel) for one wife, which (be­sides their owne inherent excellencyes) bring with them two husbands, which though they cannot equal your own chil­dren, yet may they in some sort bring a comfort to your aged yeares. Now since it hath pleased you, to nominate us two for your sonnes in law, we should be much in­grate in refusing so goodly a profer, and much more then vaine, to denie that, be­cause it is offered, for which wee would give whole worlds (were they ours) for [Page 19] the purchase, for beleeve me sir, no sooner did our eyes behold your beautious daugh­ters, but our hearts loved thē, determining for certaine either to have them, or to die for them; how happie then may you ima­gine we esteeme our selves, when you that are the wakefull dragon to guard these golden apples, shut your eyes while wee two Herculesses come to rob your or­chard, or rather not shut your eyes, but looke on us with delight; incouraging us on with such perswasions, as would make a coward valient in the warres of Love, ha­ving no enemie to warre against him, save a gracious Virgin, and knowing besides that she cannot be hard hearted, comming of so kinde a father. To answer you there­fore with what a sympathie our affection meet, you cannot be so willing to have us your sonnes, as we (if your faire daughters be but gratious as I hope they will) are desirous to call you father.

What Cleanthes had uttered in words, Polydore failed not to testifie for himselfe, by the pleasing gesture of his countenance, which the good old man perceiving, it did so wrap him in joy, that the teares ranne [Page 20] trickling downe his white beard, his over­gladded heart not being able to containe in it selfe so suddaine an extasy of joy, at so great a felicity (as he esteemed it) to have Cleanthes and Polydore for his sonnes in law, which they taking for a sure presage of a fortunate event, it made them sympa­thize with him in delight, though their eyes did not testifie it with such teares of joy as his did, their youthfull fire being better able to dry up those flouds of over­flowing passion then the frost of age; wher­fore without more a doe, they desired him only to aide them thus far, as to help them to the speech of the maides, and they did not doubt of a happie successe, which hee willingly agreeing unto, promised to per­forme accordingly. But because it was then to late, the sunne being almost gone to hide himselfe in the boosome of Tethis, he invited them to a course supper and a hard bed (as he termed it) and there for that night the lovers tooke up their Inne.

All supper time did they sit gazing on their mistresses, feeding on their eyes more then on the Cates that was before them, [Page 21] that it was a meriment to old Clidamas to see them so attentive, and to heare them answer so impertinently to every questi­on he askt of them, yet would he finde out pleasant discourse to beguile the time, and thus supper was passed over; after with musicke and dancing, and other delight­full pleasures, they wore away the howers till bed time, & then lights being brought they were conducted to their chambers. Faine would the youths have beene pra­ctising their skill in Venus warfare, but the company of guests then present denied them opportunity, therefore awaiting for a fitter houre, they betooke them to their lodging; for rest I cannot call it, their minds being so distracted betweene joy and feare; joy for the fathers willingnesse, feare for the daughters mislike if it should happen; that they debard their eyes from the least slumber, yet was the fancy of joy the stronger, as having the surer ground, which so filled their heads with pleasing immaginations, that themselves I thinke (had they beene askt the question) could not have recounted them.

The burning hoofes of Apollowes firce-breathing [Page 22] steeds, had not as yet attained the lower pavement of the vaulted hemi­sphere, and rosy fingerd Aurora had but newly strewd the way for the King of lights, when the two lovers (wearie of their restlesse beds) perceiving the mor­nings blush through the chamber window, arose, and apparrelling themselves went downe to receive the fresh mornings aire in the garden; but all their earlinesse could not outstrippe the wakefull Clydamas, who was the continuall morning cock to the whole house, who seeing the two lovers comming towards him, with a merry countenance gave them the bonjour thus.

So early up, nay then I see, you will bee sure speeders that are so early risers; See, how the sunne comes stealing over yon hill, dying his cheekes with blushes as a­shamd to be outstript by mortalls; Rather he teacheth us (said Polydore) to blush for suffering our selves to be surpast by you, that should rather bee at rest, then thus a­broad so soone before the day, young bloods may better indure watching then weake age: Indeede (said Clydamas yong men that have the same watchbel that you [Page 23] have, can worse indure their beds then o­thers that want it, and commenly where ther's a lover in the house there needs no other cock to call up the rest, but otherwise youth loves their ease, and to nourish them­selves with a morning nap, when old men rather desire to feede (as it were) on the fresh aire without doores; yet the case goes ill of our sides (saith Cleanthes) for though we have the watchbell which you talke of, yet either it went false, or wee minded it not, for me thinkes for all our larum, you are got up before us.

With such like pleasing conference they passed on the time till Clydamas perceived his daughters were come into the garden, whereupon taking the two friends by the hands he thus incouraged them: Yonder is the game, and you are skilfull hunts­men, upon them then, and if you misse them, blame not me for negligence, but your selves for slothfulnesse, that had the game in view, and yet lost it: and there­with he parted from them.

Who then had looked on the lovers, might have perceived a maidenly blush overspread their cheekes, as afraid of them­selves [Page 24] having never beene trained in Cupids military discipline, yet gathering their spi­rits together, and arming themselves with their greatest resolution, they approched nigh and taking them by the hands kindly gave them the good morrow, which they with a modest blush returned. Whereupon Cleanthes taking his faire Calanthia by the hand, whilst Polydore did the like to his deare Florella thus accosted her.

If what I speake (beautious Calanthia) be not so powdered with art, as may be­fit the tender tympane of a Ladyes eare, impute it to the fault of war, that teacheth her schollers no better language: yet thus much may my simplenesse in that kinde gaine me, that wanting colour to daube my meaning over with, my truth will ap­peare the more naked and cleare. I love thee deare Callanthia; nay start not sweet, love is not such a bugbeare to affright a Lady with, time was when I my selfe would have laught at the name of Cupid, as if he had beene as lame as hee is blind: but since, his piercing shaft hath made so large a wound, that I feare it never will be healed, unlesse you proove the gracious [Page 25] phisitian and cure me; It was the wisedom of the gods (divine Calanthia) to make man and woman, so framing them, that it is almost impossible for them to live asun­der; for if either had beene made alone, how should the spacious fabrick of the world have beene supplied with inhabi­tants? or if when both had beene made, they might have lived asunder, to what end had served mans affibility? or those excellencies that are in women? they or­dained therefore that man and woman should be joyned together, that mans na­turall harshnesse might bee molified with womans tendernesse, and womans weake­nesse might bee upheld by mans strength. Now since this is the pleasure of the gods, (my deare) be not you displeasing to them, by obstinate refusing to submit your selfe to their decree: but agree to bee my wo­man, and I (more then willingly) will consent to bee thy man, give mee thy love as freely, as I aske it honestly, for farre from me, be the thought of villany; I know it is the fashion of maidens to bee coy, and hard to bee wonne at first, and some fooles I know there are, that esteeme [Page 26] a woman light if she bee wonne at the first onset, but trust me Calanthia, I am of ano­ther opinion, for never could a thousand yeares of growth, nourish a truer love in any lovers brest, then a minuts sight hath bred in mine: for no sooner did your eyes sparkle on mine, but from those eyes of yours, Cupid let fly his golden headed arrow at my heart, and why then may not a minuts talke, breede as true a love as a minuts sight: delay not then my deare Calanthia, but yeeld thy selfe without any further circumstance, for by thy love, (which is an oath that I would sooner die then breake) I shall account thee more wise and constant, as wanting those arts which cunning women have, by fained re­fusalls to draw poore besotted youths in­to a fooles paradise, my request is faire and honest, thy gracious love, to bee consum­mated by a happy marriage. And there­with hee ceased, griping her faire hand within his so hard, as if he would have her feele his meaning as well as heare it.

But the excellent Calanthia (who was as faire as any that the sunne ere lookt on, and yet more gracious then faire, and as [Page 27] wise as gracious) after a little musing made him an answer thus.

Worthy Sir, if warre teach her Schol­lers no worse language then shee hath taught you, shee neede not bee ashamed of them; for beleeve me sir, (and let these blushes testifie for me) I know not how, but your words have so wrought with mee, that I never felt the like passions in my selfe, as I do at this time, if you deceive me be it on your owne head, I am the silly fish easily caught with a faire bait, I must con­fesse I could have held off longer, and would have done, (though I imagine what torments I should have undergone) but your protestations have so farre prevailed with mee, that you see how easily I am wonne to yeeld you up the fort of my chast love, almost without the least batte­ry; which if it be a fault; (as I know not how you may esteeme it,) blame your owne tongue for having so much power to overcome me.

Blest be my tongue said Cleanthes, for having so much power, and blest bee love for making thy heart so pliable; but more then blest bee thy deare selfe, (excellent [Page 28] Calanthia) for inriching me with so ex­cellent and enstimable a treasure as thy love; when I am false or once thinke a thought of deceiving thee, may all the plagues of love and jealousie light on this heart, and never bee removed. O happie presage of a most fortunate end, in so blest a beginning; what man can have more cause of joy then Cleanthes, when he shall fold in his armes so delicate a bride as is Callanthia; for ever will I consecrate this day to pleasure, & the sprightly Cupid, dul bloody warre, when did I ever feele such an extasy of joy in all thy service, when I came home laden with the spoyles of foes, crowned with tryumphant bayes, and all the souldiers crying out Cleanthes, the mortall Mars that leades victory bound in an iron chaine, that shee dares not but attend on him, victory, victory to the great Cleanthes; yet have I rid one drow­sie and dull, no more stird with these glo­rious acclamations, then if they had not belonged to me; yet here for the glory of one cumbate in the field of Love, my heart dances to the musicke of Callanthias voice, chaunt on my deere Callanthia and never [Page 29] give over, that my poore heart may never give over dauncing.

Callanthia seeing into what an extremi­ty of joy imagination had led him, thought to give him a kind of cooling card, and therefore spake to this effect.

Let not my words Cleanthes make you to loose your selfe, for my position was generall, in regard of mine owne will, yet is it not without a lemitation; you know that besides the liberty of my free will, I have the obedience of a child imposed on me, and beleeve me, that howsoever I fare (as indeede I thinke I shall not live with­out you) his will shall be the limits of my affection, beyond which I will on no termes wander; get therefore his good­will and you have mine.

This was so farre from abating any thing of Celanthes his joy, that it augmen­ted it rather, which he was about to utter, and tell her that he had her fathers good will already, but that Clidamas (who all this while hard all their talke) perceiving already that Polydore had wrought his Lady Florella to the same point, stepped out, and put them together with these or the like benidictions.

[Page 30]If my good will be the onely stop, here I remove that let gentleman, here I give you my daughters, and may the Gods blesse this faire conjunction, may you live long and happie together, may the chil­dren which the Gods will bestow on you, grow up to a greater perfection of vertue then their parents, and when the fates shall cut your threads of life, may yee have the fortune of Philemon and Baucis, to end all your lives in one period of time. To which the lovely couples said Amen.

The next care was in providing neces­sarie things for the wedding, and appoin­ting the day, which for the convenient de­cency of the celebration, was deferred till a moneth after: till when let us leave them, and in the meane goe a while to sea, to heare (if we can) some tidings of Mar­tuvio and Roderigo, the lost sonnes of old Clydamas who as you heard himselfe re­port it, were stolen away in their child­hood by sea rovers; but before wee enter into the discourse of their fortunes, it is requisite that we looke into the passage of an age, or two before.

Upon the sea coast of Barbary, there [Page 31] stands an auncient and renowned citie, ge­nerally knowne to Merchants, called Tu­nis, in which sometime their raigned a King (or a tyrant rather) named Mariab­dela: This monster (for so wee may call him more justly then a man) not content to wallow, and glut himselfe in such sins as might have some excuse, or agreed som­thing with the course of nature, went on yet further, letting loose the reines to his voluptuous appetite, jesting at the majesty of the Gods, and thinking them to be idle fictions of witles heads, to make fooles a­fraid of doing that, which might content their sensuality.

So far proceeded his enormous wicked­nes, as to the deflowring of his own daughter, a maiden so exceedingly beautifull, and so excellently vertuous, that shee see­med as a faire rose sprung from a crooked brier; yet neither her excellent beauty, (which would have molified a tiger) nor her admirable vertues (which would have moved any but a devill) could purchase any remorse in this hellish tyrant; thrice did she conjure him by the name of father, to desist from so unhumaine a villany, and [Page 32] yet thrice did the feind reject the name of father and would not heare; thrice did she provoke him by the paines of her carefull mother, that he would not let those many labours imployed to bring her up vertu­ously, to perish and come to nothing by his beastlinesse, and yet thrice did the bar­barous wretch withstand those exccellent provocations; because they would per­swade him from his beastlinesse: thrice did shee stirre him by the sence of man­hood, telling him how unmanly it was to offer violence to a tender virgin, much more for a father to offer villany to his owne child, and yet thrice did he refuse these motions, setting more by the fruition of his incestuous lust, then by the credit of manhood, so that (perforce) taking her in his armes he carried her into his cham­ber, whilst shee poore soule with bitter cries, and many a brine-salt teare, implo­red aide from the Gods; but all in vaine, for the insatiate devill having her there in his power, villanously ravish't her; but then his lustfull liking turned to a mortall hate, loathing the person but not the fact, so that throwing off all pitty of a man, as [Page 33] before hee had done of a father, hee drew his sword, and while the sweete angellike creature sate bewailing her lost honour, the cruell devill most unhumainely mur­thered her, and commanding presently to raise a rumour of her suddaine death, in most pompious manner he solemnized her funerall, where the dissembling crocadile shed such a multitude of false teares, that he made the most hearts present to condole with him, his infinite losse in so precious a daughter.

Yet could not all his cunning clooke his wickednesse from the all-seeing eyes of the divine powers, for though hee scaped corporall plagues, yet was his minde so distracted with hideous thoughts, and the everlasting gripes of a guilty conscience, as if a thousand devills had taken up their habitation in his bosome, nor could the comfort of sleepe any thing benefit him, for no sooner were his eyes closed, but his imagination presented him with gastly visions and horred dreames; amongst the rest, one night hee dreamt that hee saw his daughter comming towards him with her haire dishevel'd about her eares, and her [Page 34] eyes flaming like fire, in her hand a bur­ning whip, with which she lasht him in most cruell manner, with horrour where­of crying out amaine, spare me Carapresa he waked; and yet still was his imaginati­on so throughly possest with terror of those burning lashes, that hee ranne about the chamber like a mad man, crying con­tinually on Carapresa to hold her hands, which the guard (that ordinarily watcht about the chamber) hearing, they present­ly rushed in upon him, and by violence held him, till being something come to himselfe, they left him, and hee went to bed againe.

In such like tortures did hee spend his time, so that growing weary of his life, and indeed desperate, not caring what should happen to him, he gave himself over to delights, and such pastime as were of most likelihood to drive away such trou­blesome thoughts; at last (by what meanes I know not) it came into his head to have a great desire to know to what end the fates had reserved him, this fancy growing stronger and stronger, hee sent two of his trustiest servants to the oracle of Iupiter [Page 35] Ammon to know his destiny, who com­ming before the Alter, and offering their gifts according to the custome, they re­ceived from the oracle this answer.

With this short answer they returned home againe, where delivering the King their scroule, he read it, & plainely percei­ving how evidently his destiny was figured out, he presently gave command, that all Sicilians should within a moneths space, voide the country on paine of death, if any were found after the moneths end; he himselfe in the meane time walking strongly guarded, admitting none into his company or service, untill hee had throughly examined him, what, and of whence he was, not caring of what coun­try they were, so they were not Sici­lians.

Besides this he sent out his gallies and o­ther ships of warre to surprise al Sicilians, without respect of age, sexe, or degree, so that by these meanes the Mediteranian sea [Page 36] was so haunted, as no one durst venture, un­lesse he went extraordinarily strongly pro­vided for the assault, for under colour of surprising Sicilians, these rovers set on all that they saw, ransacking ship and goods, slaying some of the men, and sending the others to the shore naked and comfort­lesse.

One of these gallies it was, that stole a­way the two children as they were playing by the sea shore, for espying them, and supposing that the King would give them an extraordinary reward, for adventuring to fetch them out of their country, when so largely he recompenced those that tooke any on the sea, they put it to the venture, and swiftly rushing out of their gally, they carried them away, maugre all that the in­habitants could doe.

Thus with their rich booty (as they ac­counted it) they sayled on, being carried with a merry gale of wind, till they came within the sight of Tunis, but then, on a suddaine the wind changed quite contra­ry, so that it was impossible for them to approach to the shore, and presenly upon it, arose so vehement a tempest, as if heaven [Page 37] and earth would have met together, to the confusion of the weather beaten gally, the winds storm'd, the seas roar'd, the shippe crackt, and the men howl'd for anguish, making a most confused & hideous noyse, the day grew darke, and the Sunne wrapt up his face in his clowded mantle, as loth to see the confusion of mankind, the moone and the starres, lookt gazing out of their spheres, wondering to see the cruelty of enraged Aeolus, to the generall amazement of all the distracted beholders, to see the Moone usurpe the Sunnes office, and the signes of midnight, when it should bee noone.

To adde to the horred noyse of the ra­ging waters, sometimes were heard the suddaine crackes of furious thunderbolts, which compared with the harsh grumbling of the turbulent sea, seemed like the dis­charging of some great peice of ordinance amongst a volly of small shot. The shippe in the meane time violently tumbled up and downe, by the continuall agitation of the troubled ocean, now mounted up­ward, as if it would never leave ascen­ding, till it had toucht the clouds, and by [Page 38] and by downe againe, as if it would never leave falling till it came to the lowest hell, the amaz'd saylors, not knowing which way to turne them in so urgent an extre­mity, were inforced to commit ship, lives, goods, and all, to the mercy of the winds and sea, therefore taking downe all their sayles they lay hulling up and downe, as the tempest drove, carefully expecting a more prosperous gale; but in vaine ex­pected they any comfort, for on the second night after the tempest began, they were set a ground on the coast of Spaine.

Who had then seene the distracted marriners, would have thought them mortal foes, rather then combined friends, so did every one bestirre himselfe in this danger, snatching out of his fellowes hand that which hee thought would save him­selfe, not caring who perished so him­selfe escaped: amongst the rest the young lads shifted for themselves, as well as their tender age would give them leave, for seeing how every one provided for him­selfe, no man regarding them, they thought that they should doe the like too, and therefore getting up into the upper decke, [Page 39] (because that place was onely free from water,) they remained there till that also began to be possessed by the incroaching ocean, but then, as it were inspired with a riper wit, which it may be the sight of the present danger had lent them, they suppo­sed that to stay longer in the ship, nothing was to be expected but most certaine ruine, & therefore espying a chest which by good fortune was in the place (as they had seene others doe) they threw themselves and it into the sea, intreating Neptune to bee gentle to them, because they were but chil­dren and had never done him wrong.

It seemed that Neptune heard their prayers, for ere breake of day they were cast on shore half dead hard by Tarragona, where an old fisherman (who about some businesse was come so early to the sea side) found them, and being moved with tender commiseration of their misfortunes, hee ranne to them, and used such diligence that he recovered life in them, yet long it was ere they could call to mind how they came there, but at last remembring the ship and the storme at sea, they asked the old man what was become of the ship; but hee [Page] perceiving them to be faint, carried them home with him, and told them that the ship would come againe one day, and till then they should dwell with him, which they according to their childish simplicity presently conscented to.

Thus were these two children saved from the swords tyranny by the cruell mercy of the angry sea, the other that were in the ship were either drowned, or if they esca­ped to the land they fell into the hands of the inhabitants, who hated them deadly, as being subjects to the tyrant Mari­abdela.

The good old Sancho (for so was the fisherman called) perciving by divers que­stions, who and what his orphans were, regarded them the more charily, inten­ding when occasion should serve to carry them home againe to Sicily, which hee ho­ped might be a meanes of bettering his e­state, by a good recompence which hee made account to obtaine, by presenting their father with so worthy a gift.

It fortuned, that about some two or three yeares after, the Duke of Medina Sidonia Lord Admirall of Spaine, having [Page] beene upon a service to scoure the Sea of pyrats, for want of water and fresh victu­alls, happened to put into that haven, where comming himselfe ashore, he chaunced to espie Martuvio and Roderigo as they were comming from schoole, when presently he tooke such a liking to them that he deman­ded of them whose children they were, they (as they were taught by old Sancho) made answer they were his, whereupon the Duke commanding him to be sent for, requested him to let him have his two children, which the good old man hearing, and glad to preferre them to so honorable a man, (because he knew not when his owne estate would be sufficient to carry them to Sicily) willingly condesended unto, and therefore taking them aside thus spake unto them.

My sonnes (said he) for so I may justly call you, as having given you a second life from the seas cruelty, and my care of you since that time, hath beene little lesse then that of a father, you are old enough to en­tertaine my counsell, and of understanding sufficient to put it in practise, you see how the meanes that the Gods have lent me is so [Page 42] small, that it is onely sufficient to keepe us, so that I know not whether ever I shall be able, to convey you home to your owne father or no; see therefore my deare childrē how the Gods have provided for you, in moving the heart of the great Duke of Me­dina Sidonia to fancy you, a man mighty in power, & great in authority, under whom you may sooner get meanes of transporta­tion to your country, then by staying here with me, goe with him my boyes, and I be­seech the Gods to give you as many bles­sings, as there are sorrowes in my poore heart to part with you, were it not that I know it is for your greater good: yet wher­soever you shall go, or howsoever the fates shall dispose of you, remember old Sancho your poore foster father; lastly, it will not be amisse for you to entertaine my counsell in this to, whensoever folkes shall aske you what or whose sons you are, you may an­swer, a poore fishermans on the coast of Spaine, for if you be knowne to be Sicilians it will go hard, but the tyrant Mariabdela of whom you have heard tell, will worke some meanes to get you into his clutches for the whole sea is full of his warlike ships, [Page 43] and hee accounts not the losse of his ships, equall to the purchase of one Sicilian, so monstrously doth he hate your nation: but by terming your selves my children, you may go for Spaniards, & so escape the feare of any such danger, besides going under my name, you may much benefit mee, for who­soever shall take a liking to you, cannot chuse but favour the father of such chil­dren, goe one therefore on Gods name, and whatsoever become of you, remember to shew your selves to bee nobly borne, rather by your vertuous and noble acts, then by your owne report.

When hee made an end of his counsell he kissed their tender cheekes, the teares standing in his eyes, as loth to part with his pritty children, and they also crying ripe, not willing to leave their loving fa­ther; in this sort he delivered them to the Duke, who gave him a great reward for them, which nothing displeased the old man: Sometime they lived with the Duke at sea, till the sea being sufficiently scoured as he thought, he returned home to Biscay, where the two children grew up so be­yond expectation in beauty, stature, and [Page 44] strength, that it much delighted the good Duke to see them, their greatest delight wa [...] to bestride great horses, and when their age began to be able to endure it, they gave themselves wholy to deeds of armes, haun­ting justs & tournaments, which were something frequent, where continually they carried themselves so well, that they still came off with honour, to the exceeding comfort of the Duke, and admiration of all that beheld them, to see such admirable worth in so young yeares.

Thus sometime they lived in this fashion of life, till it was rumord in Biscay, that a certaine Pyrat name Martoll, went roving up and downe the Levant, seizing on all the ships that came in his way, but especi­ally on the Spanish ships, that came from Candy, laden with wines: These tidings were beyound measure welcome to bold Martuvio and Roderigo, as hoping now to put in practise, what they had al this while been learning, so that no sooner had the Duke given commandement for the provi­ding of the gallyes to be set out against the pyrats, but they came to him, and with humble earnestnes besought him to let them [Page 45] waite on him in this expedition, which he seeing their forwardnesse consented to.

The winds blew faire, and all things were prepared for the purpose, whereupon they presently went aboard, leaving the shore full of people praying for their good successe; with pleasant gaile they sailed on, till they came over against Zante where one from the top discerned sayles, and thereupon gave warning to the men below, to make ready for the fight, for hee had now evidently discried that they were Martolls gallyes, whereupon every man fell closely to his businesse, some to fitting the sayles, others to raise up defence, a­gainst their enemies, others to reare their engines of battery, wherewith they would send whole showres of stones & arrowes a­mongst the foes, others making ready their grapling to lay hold of the adverse ships, if peradventure they came to boarding, who had then seene, the two young Sicili­ans, would have thought they had beene going to a feast, rather then to a dismall and unusuall fight; their greatest care was to see, whether their sworde were sharpe enough, as for their armour they did not [Page 46] so much regarded it, yet knowing by their little experience, that it was not the least duty of a valient man, to looke well to his owne defence, they provided for that too, making every thing as sure as they might, that the enemie might not have too much advantage against them; thus being armed in compleate harnesse they came before the Admirall, who seeing and praising their courage assigned them their pla­ces.

No lesse were the Pyrats busied, for Martoll being a man of great experience, and having beene in many sea fights, knew that now he was to use an other manner of proceeding, and a greater care then in the ordinary surprisall of a weake Marchant, and therefore with as great care and expe­dition as was possible, providing all things either for offence or defence, he incoura­ged his men with these or the like spee­ches.

I should doe you too much wrong wor­thy friends and fellowes in armes, if I should now doubt of your worth, that I have had so many most absolute and ap­parent proofes off, onely thus much I am [Page 47] to tell you, that that worth of yours is now to be so much the more augmented, by how much the quality of your now approching foes, is farre surpassing that of those, with whom you have hitherto dealt, for they were only marchants, men of small or no force, easily wonne to yeeld themselves to your victorious swords: but now you are to encounter with souldiers, men inur'd to sea fight, and brought up all their life time to traverse the fields of Neptune, remem­ber that you are to fight against Alonzo the great Admirall of Spaine, who not many yeares since so bestird himselfe, that not a rover durst peepe out of the harbour; re­member that they are your borne enemies, men sworne to your destruction, and ac­count your selves as men sent by the Gods to whip them for their overdaring, remem­ber that how famous soever the enemie is, so much the more glory is it to overcome: remember the great fight you had with Andrea Admirall of Sicily, and how ma­ny Sicilian slaves you carried to Tunie to the great Mariabdela, are not you the men? who when the great Navy of Mal­ta scoured the Levant, durst range at plea­sure [Page 48] and board the proud foe, mangre all his might: are not you the men that made the Candy fleete stoop to yours, whilst you ransackt them of those excellent wines, in despight of those men of war, sent of pur­pose to waft them over; are not you the men that brought the ships of Tripoli un­der your lee, whilst the braggart Thebaldo governour of Rhodes for all his vaunting stood looking on, but durst not helpe them? you are, you are; and I know that you are still the men, that will adde the overthrow of these haughty Spaniards to your former victories, you have the same Martoll to be your captaine that you had then, you have the same ships that you had then, you have the same Gods to protect you, that you had then, and you shall have the same fortune to attend on you, that you had then; take courage then, and if the potency of your enemies dismay you, thinke what a glory you shall get by overcoming of them.

The souldiers were so tickled with this speech, that casting off all thought of feare, they began to take into their thoughts the full imagination of an assu­red [Page 49] victory, and therefore with an una­nimous consent they cryed out Victoria Victoria, which the Duke of Medina hea­ring, hee tooke ocasion thereupon to in­courage his souldiers, in these or the like speeches.

Harke how yon dogges barke at the Moone, like cockes crowing on their owne dunghill, harke what account they make of our destruction, it is therefore your parts my worthy friends and valiant soul­diers, to bestirre your selves like men, that they may have the greater overthrow, in being overcome by those men whom they esteeme already vanquished. It is not pos­sible that these villains can entertaine the least delight, unlesse it bee like the Swans carolling, a sure presage of an instant ru­ine: consider my friends with what ad­vantage you warre against them, you have the Gods on your sides, the winds to helpe you, the shore for your safety, and For­tune for your friend, when as all these are against them; for how can the Gods helpe them that are profest enemies to those celestial Dieties, how can the winds favour them that imprison them to so bad pur­pose, [Page 50] how can the shore yeeld them suc­cour that are enemies to all men, and how can fortune be their friend, that make so ill use of their prosperity, these are such like men as not many yeares agoe you van­quisht on the coast of Barbary, and it may be, they are the relikes of those dispersed fleetes, newly gathered to a head and ven­turing againe to sea, that they may the second time be overcome by you; the pow­er of a just cause is on your side, and what can be a greater motive to whet on valour, you have honest minds and setled resolu­tions, and what can bee a greater rampire against the feare of approaching danger. you have the glory of former victories in the like kinde, and what greater spurre to animate resolution: you have all things necessary and convenient for the fight, far off, or neere at hand, and what more could you wish? courage then, and what advan­tage honest and true men have against theeves and robbers, the same assure your selves to bee on your sides; aquit your selves like valiant men, and hearts rather then tongues, witnesse to your the selves full assurance of a happy victory.

[Page 51]No sooner had he made an end of spea­king, but hee commanded to give the signall to the fight, which was done ac­cordingly, and was answered with the like from the enemies; whereupon both fleetes moved forward by the helpe of their oares each bearing the sea before them, till the mounting bellowes meeting one a­nother seemed to fight together as if they would presage whether side should have the victory by their distraction, the Pyrats had the greater multitude, but the Spanyards had the stronger vessells, so that there was small odds on either side, the ones multi­tude serving to resist the others strength, & their strength serving as a maine bulwarke to defend them from the others multitude, now was the battell begunne with whole showers of darts, arrowes, & stones, sent frō either side, now began all things to bee in a hurly burly, the sayles grew to bee full of holes, as if they would let the winde loose from their hollow prisons; the masts began to totter, the upper workes of the gallies began to cracke, and the men began to drop downe, washing the hatches with their dearest blood, the sea began to change [Page 52] colour, blushing to bee the supporter of such massacres, horror was figured in her proper colours, and the fierce God of war armed himselfe in blood and griefly wounds: cruelty ranged up and downe the fleetes, leaving no squadron unvisited, fierce balls of wildfire were thrown about, to set fire on the moving houses: at last, as if they had agreed upon it, they resol­ved to board each other, and therefore casting forth the grapling hookes, they fastned their shipps together; but then began as it were a new battell, for the manner of the fight, though nothing dif­fering from the former in cruelty, unles in that, it was more bloody and deadly: now beganne they to use their swords & pikes▪ sometimes assailing the others, and strive­ing to get into their enemies shippes, some­times defending themselves and repulsing the others from entring into theirs, shive­red pikes flew into the aire, and sword that once glistered like to polished glasse now lost their colour and dyed themselves in a bloody scarlet; here might you see a head tumbling on the floore with the tongue still moving (as it were) cursing [Page 53] the sword that parted it from the beloved body; here an arme lopt off griping a sword, as it were threatning his enemies to the death; here a helmet cleft in two, there a target broken in peeces; so that it was a wonder to behold the severall effects of bloody warre.

Amongst all this confusion the two Si­cilians behaved themselves beyond won­der, as if Mars, and his sister Bellona had assumed the shapes of youths & come to aide the Spanyards, and not as if they had beene but pupills in the feates of chi­valry, all the while before it came to boor­ding they stood still, incouraging on those that wrought in the engines, but no soo­ner were the grapling yrons cast out, & the ships intangled together, but they leapt both together into the Admirall of the Pyrats, and in spight of all opposition, with their swords they laid about them lustily, quickly scouring the hatches and making a way for others to follow them: which Martoll seeing, perceiving that now or never he was to use his uttermost valour, like a chafed bore, hee leapt to him that was next him, which happened to bee [Page 54] Martuvio, who feeling such weighty blowes fall so thicke on his helmet, hee be­thought himselfe, that such wares were not to be hoorded up without repayment, hee leapt a little backe, and bravely meet him. So have I seene two angry bulles devide the way between them in an equall distance, & then that their meeting might be the lesse friendly, runne at each with their utmost might, that with the fury of their boy­strous shocke, the earth hath resounde, dand the fearefull heard stand amazedly gazing at eithers savagene. With the like fury did these two valiant combatants behave them­selves, making as much fire start out of their steely helmes, as Vulcan when he [...] beates new thunderbolts on his hardned anvill, the grace of the combat was lost for want of beholders, onely the Sunne stood still, wondring that the ones strength could resist the others fury, or his fury sup­port the others strength, despaire and rage whetted on the furious Martoll, honour and fame animated the bold Martuvio, so that long it was ere either could get the better of other, but both held up with an equall courage.

[Page 55]The like combate was betweene Roderi­go and the fierce Folco the Pyrats bold visea-dmirall, so that the bravary of these two fights, farre surpassed the fury of the other fight, strong assaults, and as strong wards were not wanting on either side, huge blowes and nimble avoidances were so frequent, that after some time of fight they grew well experienced in each others manner of fighting, stiffe Martoll and strong Folco used downe right blowes, which ô huge, and guided with so strong armes, as would have cloven oakes had they stood in their way: nimble Martu­vio and sprightly Rodorigo, rather used light avoidances, continually traversing the ground, that they might both the bet­ter avoide the huge blowes of their adver­saries, and have also the more advantage against them. So have I seene a nimble mastiue about to seize on a savage bul, how he comes creeping on the ground, to get if he can under power of his enemies hornes, well knowing the danger of his headstrong adversary, till finding oppertunity hee fiercely leapes at his eares or nose, and having gotten hold, gives not over till hee [Page 56] have brought the bellower on his knees: in this manner this combat continued be­tweene them a long time, till at last Mar­toll (not beeing able longer to abide the force of his puissant enemie) fell downe dead at his feet, as Folco did also at the victorious Roderigoes.

Till this time had the fight continued in an equall ballance, Fortune her selfe scarce knowing on which side the dice would runne; but no sooner did the Py­rats see their chiefe Captaines fal (like huge towers) on the bloody hatches, but their hearts died within them, and they stood still and unmou'd, like those men that Medusa's head transformed into stones, up­on this advantage the Spanyards tooke fresh courage, and afresh boording them, they entred almost without resistance, and being whetted on with rage, they made such havocke as would have moov'd hard rockes to pittie. What pen is able to relate the extreme confusion of that houre, the Pyrats cryed out mercy, the Spanyards cryed out Victoria; yet could not the ones cryes obtaine mercy, nor was the others victory without excesse of blood: the sea [Page 57] chafes to see that his waters were not suf­ficient to wash away their blood, and the heavens dropt downe teares to see the cruelty of the others, who no intreaties could perswade to pittie, at length the re­treate was sounded; and they that escaped the fury of the slaughter were presently put to the oares, that it was had to judge whither had the harder fortune, they that were slaine in battell, or they that after the battell, were reserved to slavery.

Due thankes being rendred unto the Gods for so great a victory, the Duke who by chance had seene the latter end of the fight, between the foure brave combatants, called Martuvio and Roderigo before him, and after a multitude of excessive praises for their admirable valour, hee rewarded their worths with the honour of knight­hood, whether he joyed more that victory was wonne, or wonne by them, I know not; once his joy was so super-exceeding, that he clasped them about the neckes, and welcom'd them with so naturall a love, as if he had beene their owne father; so did their noble acts worke on his pliant na­ture.

[Page 58]Afterwards every thing being set in or­der, they returned home againe; where the good Duke, not contented with the honour that himselfe had done them, pre­sented them to the King, as two inestima­ble jewells which the whole world could not out valour; relating to him what they were, and how he came by them, with the course of their life since he had them; but above all the rest, he reported the manner of their combate, above measure extol­ling their courage and skill, recounting what blowes, what wards, had passed as if hee had not onely beene an eye witnesse, but had also taken true notise, of all the blowes that passed betweene them; which the King hearing, hee highly commended them, and that hee might nourish valour in them, hee bestowed on them places of comand, where wee will leave them and returne backe to Sicily to see how the wed­ding goes forward.

The day drew nigh, and every thing was in a forwardnesse, when it fortuned (such is the frailety of humane estates) that it was crossed by an unlucky accident. Not farre off their liv'd two brothers, famous [Page 59] for nothing but infamie, the one named Hormisda, and the other Pollipus, who were so commonly noted for lewd livers, and licentious libertines, that every man of any good condition hated their com­pany, yet were they strong and hardy, as sometime wee see, nature gives her good gifts to bad men, and keepes them from those that would imploy them to better purposes; so was it with them, for their force they imployed in oppressing the weake, and if they were valiant, it was on­ly in the executing of some villany, rapes and murthers were common with them, oppression and wrong were their daily lessons that they never left practising: a­bundance of wealth they had, partly by inheritance from their ancestors, and part­ly gotten by extorting usury.

These paire of excellent creatures hap­pened to espie Callanthia and Florella as they walked in the fields, and were present­ly stricken with their love, with violence whereof (their lustfull desire not being able to comprise it selfe in any reasonable limits) they grew almost mad, for the ob­taining of their longings, love or lust ra­ther [Page 60] had so possessed their braines that whatsoever Hormisda fancied it was still concerning Calanthia, and all Pollipus imaginations were set on worke to admire the excellencies of Florella: To speake to them they thought it vaine, because they knew themselves hated, and it had beene dangerous for them, in regard of many iniuries that they had done old Clidamas, therefore smothering their affections, till they might finde a time to vent them, and therefore they awaited an opportunity which thus offered it selfe unto them.

One day ere the morne expected the re­turne of Apollo from the bed of the seas Queene, old Clidamas roused up the lovers from their early beds, to hunt the stagge in the neighbouring forrest, the huntsmen quaintly attired all in greene, with their hornes about their neckes, and their jave­lins in their hands, stood at the entring of the wood to welcome them with the sound of their merry bugles, their eager bloodhounds longing for the pray, stood whining as angry to bee kept so short: the two gentlewomen mounted on a couple of swift palfries rode like a paire of Diana's [Page 61] nimphes, gaurded with a troope of lusty Sylvanes: the game was a foot, and the following dogs with a gallant cry, made the shrill Ecco bable to the woods, a lan­guage that shee undestood not, poore silly wat frighted with the noyse, stretched out his smal legs to their utmost length, and with a pace outstripping Boreas, he taught the lazy curres to passe them­selves in swift careeres, the merry hunts­men with their lowd hallowes encouraged on the eager persuers.

Whilst thus the sport grew hot and e­very one attended the game, the false Hor­misda and treacherous Polipus, watching their time when all the rest were out of sight, and the two maidens onely in their viewes, of whom on purpose they set a watchfull eye to marke what way they tooke, before themselves could tell what danger was neere them, they violently sei­zed on them, and stopping their mouthes least their cryes should bewray them, they carried them straight to their castle; for they durst not stay longer in the wood for feare of being spied: when they had them there in their owne power, they fell to [Page 62] comforting them, telling them great sto­ries of their loves, what continuall tor­ments they had indured for their sakes, and how much they feared death, if they did not prove gracious, with many other such dissembling insinuations, which soun­ded to the poore gentlewomens eares, like the harsh clattering of weapons provided to murther them; yet knowing in whose power they were, and hoping for suddaine helpe from their two lovers, whom they knew would never leave seeking till they had found them, and knowing moreover, the nature of their jaylors, that they would either by faire meanes or foule, by consent or force, obtaine their desires, wherefore they still framed such an­swers, as still put the suiters in good hope, without any certainty of speeding, which they perceiving, and understanding the difference betweene a willing and a forc't love, as having tri'd both, were the more willing to give way too; at length wearied with their often delayes, they ur­ged them to give consent, or else they should bee forc't to it. Which when the gentle creatures heard, with weeping eyes [Page 63] and sorrowfull hearts, considering the de­speratenesse of their estate, Calanthia in the name of her selfe and her sister made this answer.

Blame us not (great Horsmisda and you renowned Polipus) if what wee account so deere, we are so loth to part with, consider there is nothing so precious to a woman, as her virginity: neither is there any thing that shee can call her owne after shee hath lost that, then condemne us not if selfe love make us so chary of that which is our one­ly treasure: yet for your sakes (if blushes would give me leave) I would part with it, upon one condition, and it is but a small one, that you will grant us time to bewaile the losse of our honour, and afterwards wee will yeeld our selves up to your plea­sure: if you refuse to grant us this poore request, know, this knife shall sooner end my dayes, rather then you shall enjoy the least favour from us, and of this resolve your selves.

This answer was so pleasing to them who beleev'd shee had spoken as shee thought, and therefore kissing them over and over, they granted foure dayes space, [Page 64] (which was the time of their owne re­quest, and in which they look't for helpe) but the brothers bewitch't with joy and delight, thought verily that not any man had seene them, or if they were descried, trusting to the strength of their castle, with hearts overcharged with delightfull fan­cies, they left the sisters together; who be­ing now alone, and looking more narrow­ly into the certainety of their approach­ing danger, it made the salt teares trickle down their faire cheekes, sad silence lock't up their ruby lips, and imprisoned their griefes in the delicate prison of their hol­low breasts, till at last the sweet Florella (whose sweetnesse surpassed the fairenesse of the morning) uttered her griefe in this dolefull manner.

Can it bee that I should indure all this and live? O then I see the fates have desti­ned mee to too much misery, O Polydore, why have the Gods laid such a plague on thee, (for I know thou so esteem'st it) to be rob'd of thy Florella? but more then miserable Florella, to bee thus stolen from thy Polydore; if for any fault of mine, ye Gods, ye have laid this misery on me, ô take [Page 65] a virgins heart, and let them bee an expi­ [...]ation for my sinne, but howsoever let not your anger light on him, but grant that if it be my fortune to dye here in this accur­sed Castle, hee may remember Florella, as one that lov'd him dearly, but no other­wise. Let him not pine himselfe away for me, and whensoever he shall happen to set his affection on any other, ô let her be as true as I was, but more fortunate; Cal­lanthia hearing her laments, sought to comfort her in this manner. Such is the nature of our misery, that to utter our la­ments is dangerous, having so many spyes to watch our doings, and so many scoutes to overthrow our talke; let us therefore wisely smother up our passions in our breasts, till time shall serve that wee may in more happy dayes have occasion to for­get them; for if my heart presage not a­misse, it will not bee long ere wee shall finde comfort, it cannot bee but our loves hearing of our losse, will without delay make search for us, and my father I know will soonest suspect this place, as harbou­ring such men, as are aptest for such a mis­chiefe: therefore have I chosen so long a [Page 66] time, that wee might bee the more sure of comfort. But what if they come not in that time (said Florella?) why than wee must resolve to dye nobly (said Callanthia) for never will I consent to dishonour my selfe, for feare of death. Truly (said Florella) I am yet of that minde to, but I know mine owne weaknes to be such, that I am not certaine how the terrour of death will shake me, and therefore if it bee your plea­sure to put mee to so fierce a triall, I doe beseech you ô yee gods, to give me strength and patience to endure it. Keepe thee in that minde still (said Callanthia) and thou wilt doe well enough, with these like dis­courses they passed away the time, till the foure dayes of their limitation were out; and the morning was the fatall day, either of their death or delivery: this put the poore virgins to their utmost plunges, yet resolving themselves not to flye from that their vertuous determination, they expe­cted the sentence of their deaths.

The night vanisht, and the early cocke (the true herald of the day) shew'd the ap­proaching of the rosie morrow, when lust­full Hornisda and his compeere Polipus [Page 67] arose, and doing (more than usuall) devo­tions to the rising sunne, they went to the chamber of the sorrowfull sisters, whom they found up and ready, as loth to be ta­ken a bed, by such as they, though they wish't it had been otherwise, yet not ca­ring much for it, the lustfull brothers fell to dallying with them, which they, be­cause they would not give them the least pleasure, being determined to dye, rudely repulsed, yet still new batteries were layd to their fortes of chastitie, which were still beate backe as violently as they were presented shamelesly; at last growing past patience by so many (as they call'd them) injuries, Hornisda in a great chase thus thundred. 'Tis true I say, that too much familiaritie begets contempt, else had not our gentle loves beene refused, if wee had used such meanes as was becomming us, but since faire meanes can worke nothing with such waspes as you, wee will try our owne way, and see if wee can get that by force, which wee could not by intreaty. Foule devill (replyed Callanthia) doe thy worst, 'tis not thy terrifying threats that can dismay us or alter our determinations, [Page 68] for know that wee are resolved to dye ra­ther than to yeeld to thy villanie. Yet you shall dye (said hee) but first will I have my fill of you, then perchance, my sword shall bee so mercifull as to rid you out of the world, in the meane time let you and I strive for masterie, and therewith he vio­lently tooke her by the haire, as Polipus did the like to the tender Florella, forcibly dragging them to the beds side, whil'st thus (poore soules) made what shift they could to defend themselves: and praying to the just God to lend them strength suf­ficient to resist those tyrants.

Now was their forces lost, and the cruel wretches had almost laid them on the lothed beds, when on a sudden they were scared with the noise of a hideous outcry, the castle was up in an uproare, and every man cryed arme, arme; whereupon, the brothers fearing what might happen, and making account that another time might serve for their mischeivous purpose, they went to see what this suddaine outcry pre­tended, when presently mounting on the castle walls, they might descry a troupe of armed men, coming in all hast toward [Page 69] them, whereupon, presently suspecting who they were, they provided for their defence: but wee must of necessitie a while, looke backe to them that wee left hunting in the wood.

Every man was so earnest at the sport, that no one tooke heed to the two sisters, so they were seiz'd on, and carried away not being seen of any, save a poore shep­heard, who knew the man best, not the wo­man.

The fearfull stagge wearied with the continuall motion of so swift a pace, be­gan to despaire of any longer safety by his legs, and therfore turning his taile to a tree, hee laid about him with his faire branch of weapons, so that hee made the cruell blood-hounds pause upon the fight, and as it were to take counsell whether it were better to rebegin, or quite give o're the battell: which the hunts-man percei­ving, and finding by the change of the cry, that he was at a bay, they came in, & with their horns incouraged them, who therby taking fresh heart, never gave over till they had brought the vaunting champion on his knees, than would it have mov'd remorse [Page 70] to see the gentle beast lament his death in many a brine salt teare, as it were blaming mans crueltie, for whetting on his enemies to kill him.

The sport was done and every one retur­ned homeward, when (and not before) Cal­lanthia and Florella were mist, these newes stroke a cold feare to the heart of Clianthis and Polydore, presaging the danger that was like to fall unto them, present search was made, every one taking a severall way, and traversing the whole wood, yet all re­turning without any newes of any thing, but that they were not to be found. Clian­this like a franticke man ranne about cal­ling on Callanthia, and Polydore rid as hee had lost his wits, crying nothing but Florella, yet neither could Clianthis re­ceive any answer from Callanthia, nor Po­lydore from Florella. Eccho condoling these true lovers miseries, holpe them to call, for no sooner could Clianthis call Cal­lanthia, but the eccho would take the word and call Callanthia, no sooner could Poly­dore cry out Florella, but eccho would se­cond him, and cry out Florella, as if shee would have summoned all the powers in [Page 71] heaven and earth, to the search of Callan­thia and Florella.

Thus long in vaine they sought, yet would not be perswaded that they sought in vaine, every sound they heard seemed the answeres of their dearest loves, flatte­ring their eares with these imaginations, so long, till at the last they knew that they were onely flattered, and therefore plainly perceiving that they were not there to bee found, with carefull hearts, and sorrowfull thoughts, they returned home againe: where contrary to their expectation, they heard newes of them; for Clidamas as the rest, wandring up and downe the wood, hapned to meete with the Shepheard, of whom inquiring if hee saw any such, hee made him answer plainely, that they were perforce carried away, by Hormisda and Polipus; glad hee was that hee had heard newes of his daughters, yet was he greived extreamely to heare they were in such a place; but making necessitie a vertue, hee went home, and telling these newes to the lovers, and others that were present, they forthwith consulted to regaine them by force, for by intreaty they knew it was in [Page 72] vaine to try, to this end they made provi­sion of men, and convenient armour, with what speed possibly they might. All things heing provided, they marched forward, and coming neere the Castle, they were de­scried by the watch, they were no sooner under the walls, but they summon'd a par­ly, whereupon they within asked them what they came for, answer was made, that they came to redeeme the two faire sisters, Callanthia and Florella, whom Hor­misda and Polipus, had most villanously stolne away, which Hornisda hearing, with a countenance threatning death and de­struction, he made answer thus.

The girles are mine, fairly wonne by the force of armes, and I will keepe them mau­gre the proudest he amongst yee that dares say nay: I would I had thee in the openest field in Sicily, (said Clianthis) I would make that boasting tongue of thine give thy self the lye, I would make thee confess thy selfe to be a villaine. What in wordes (said Polipus) we have them, and will keepe them if we can, if not wee'l loose them, let them that sight best take them: agreed (said Polydore,) and so the signall being [Page 73] given, the assault began, the ladders were set up to the walls, and the souldiers mounted up to the top of them, from whence they were thrust downe headlong by the defendants, to receive their deaths kisse at the ground; but the two lovers burning in rage, and thinking the delay of victory a kinde of overthrow, guarding themselves with their broad sheilds, and taking their trusty swords in their hands, they valiantly got footing on the walls, maugre all the resistance that could possi­bly be made, where with their swords they made havocke of all that were nigh them, making way for their souldiers to follow them, who without delay did so, and so became masters of the wall: which Hor­misda and Polypus perceiving, and not da­ring to encounter them for all their vaun­ting, they fled by a posterne to Palermo, the men of the Castle seing their Captaines were fled, presently threw away their wea­pons, and craved mercy: which was as soone granted them.

Things being thus ovdered, Clianthis and Polydore, leaving the other businesse to be managed by Clidamas, ranne into the [Page 74] Castle from chamber to chamber, seeking their loves, whom when they found, you may imagine what joy, what kisses, what embraces passed betweene them, for so blest a meeting; hand in hand they went out of the chamber, till they came to the sight of old Clidamas, who (overcome with excesse of joy) ranne and tooke them about the neckes, kissing them, and welcomming as if hee had not seene them in a long time be­fore, but when they had recounting in what danger they had been, and how neer­ly they had escaped ravishing, wonder and joy stopt up their speech, and they stood like men confounded with excesse of pas­sion, out of which they were no sooner a­waked, but yeelding due praise to the ce­lestiall powers, that continually guard the vertuous, and setting all things in order, they left that lothed place, and returned home againe to their owne habitations, at­tending the day of marriage, till when, we will once againe leave and returne our Sicilians in the court of Scaine.

Long time they lived there, dayly in­creasing their fame with new deedes of armes, yet knowne to be no other than the [Page 75] poore fishermans sonnes of Tarracona. Till at the last Fortune offered them a glorious occasion, to build an ever dying statue to eternize them to all succeeding generati­ons, and thus it was.

It fortuned (besides the generall greifes which were before taken) there sprang up a new particular occasion of debate; be­tweene the King of Spaine and Tunis: for as before time, there had beene a league for entercourse of merchants betweene the two kingdomes. It fel out that upon some occa­sion of mislike, false Mariabdela on a sud­daine, when they dream't of no such trea­cherie, caus'd all the Spanish ships that were in his dominions, to be seized on, and the goods to be confiscated: as for the men, some hee caused cruelly to bee slaine, others he made slaves, to tugge at the oares in his gallies; this indignity seemed so greivous, that the King of Spaine hearing of it, sent his Ambassadors to Tunis, to demand re­stitution of those things that were so spoi­led, or else to denounce warre against him; restitution was denied, and their defiance was laught at, as if the denouncers had bin children, or boies not worthie to be answe­red, [Page 76] or regarded: for the fell tyrant strong perswaded of the truth of the Oracle, fea­red not any danger, but what came from Sicily, & therefore (with a scornfull smile) hee made answer to the Ambassadors, in these or the like words.

You have spoke well, and to a good pur­pose, and I cannot but commend the ele­gancie of your stile, but let me tell you, that you want the cheifest part of rhetorick per­swasion: your oration in some other man (I must confesse) might have begat a kinde of alteration, but in mee, it workes no more than if I had beene deafe when yon were speaking; for thinke not my nature can be changd by words, or that what I have once but determined to doe, much lesse what I have alreadie done, can be altered either by fair perswasions or your bitterest menaces; what I have done, I meane not to repent of, your merchants have offended me, and therefore have I punished them according to mine owne will, as being an absolute King in mine owne dominions: What I have got. I'le keepe, and sooner shall hee have this head from these shoulders, than I willl consent to the restitution of our [Page 77] poore device: Goe therefore, and tell your King, that I neither minde his flatteries, nor feare his threats, when he comes he shall be welcome, but I doubt hee will bee so long coming, that his minde will be altered be­fore he set forward on his voyage.

With this answer, the Ambassadors be­ing dismissed with as much honour as was to bee expected in so barbarous a place, re­turned home againe, where they reported the effect of their ambassage; which the King hearing, his heart was filled with so just an anger, that he forthwith proclaimed open warres, presently giving commande­ment for the preparation of galleyes, and other navall furniture, fit for so weightie an expedition, as for the leving of men, both mariners and souldiers: the managing of the whole businesse hee committed to the Duke of Midnia Sidonia, who was no way slacke in performing his dutie, everie thing being in readines, they set forward, but they had not gone halfe the way, ere they met with the huge fleete of bold Mariabdela, who as soone as the Ambassadors were de­parted, provided every thing fitting, as loth to be taken tardie in such a businesse, and [Page 78] therefore choosing rather to meete the ene­mie, than to bee inclosed in his citie walls, he went out to encounter them in the mid­way, no sooner had the fleetes descried each other, but they made defiance, and the bat­tell began, wherein Fortune (according to her blinde wisedome guided) gave the vi­ctorie to the barbarians, for the good Duke being overcloied with oddes, perceiving he had lost the greater number of his ships, with a heavie heart he sounded the retreat, and fled.

Two such other fleetes were set out from Spaine, that returned home againe, these misfortunes greatly stird the resolution of the King of Spaine, so that ignorant in him­selfe what to doe, hee called his counsell together to heare their advise, what course he should take in this extremitie; the coun­sell being assembled, and everie man com­manded to speake his minde. The Mar­quesse of Santa Crux (who was a man that never from his youth affected the warres) stood up, and spake to this effect.

Had this order beene taken before this unhappy difference was begun, it might have sav'd the effusion of much innocent [Page 79] bloud, and the expence of many millions of crownes: which now are vainely wa­sted in these bloudy broiles; then it should not have been needfull to inquire whether it were better to proceed any further in this unfortunate warre, or quite to give it over with dishonor and disadvantage: but since it pleased your Majestie then to pro­ceed according to your owne minde, with­out the advise of your counsell, (which I wish to the Gods you had not) I will not urge that point any further, but come to the maine matter that is in question. I am not such an enemie to warre, that I should utterly banish it, nor do I thinke so dege­nerately of souldiers, as to esteeme them of no use, or service in a Kingdome; for I know that warre is the arme of a country, and souldiers are the sinews of a common­wealth; but if this arme be broke with un­necessarie toile, if the sinewes bee stretched past their naturall length, marvaile not if the whole bodie bee not out of joint: the cheife end of war is to defend our selves, not to offend others, and therefore peace is said to be the childe of warre, which could not be, if for everie light occasion we [Page 80] should move unnecessarie debates, but to the purpose. Mariabdela hath offred inju­ry to our merchants, revenge hath beene sought, and still wee have come home by the worst, and yet wee inquire, what is to bee done? alas, what doe wee aile to move such a needlesse question? Aske the mer­chant that hath lost his venture, whether hee had rather keepe that hee hath toge­ther, or hazard more to a certaine ruine? can wee expect any hope of victorie, now our strengths are weakned? the best of our ships are sunke and spoiled, the greatest part of our treasures wasted, and the most of our souldiers slaine, that could not ob­taine it when all these were whole; but you may say, the fortune of the fight may change, and what wee could not get by force, wee may obtaine by some cunning stratagem: a weak confidence God knows, to trust to fortunes favour now, that have hitherto had her frownes, and a vaine toy to thinke to entrap Mariabdela by a poli­cie, that hath beene all his life time a ma­ster in warres discipline. I knew Midnia, to be a wise and prudent cheifetaine, and his souldiers to be men of excellent valour, [Page 81] yet this same Midnia hath beene over­reach't by Mariabdela, and his souldiers have beene vanquished by the other barba­rians: 'tis true, that chance carries a great stroke in militarie affaires, yet 'tis a cold comfort, to hope for a happie chance, where there is no likelihood to beare off the shocke: and little cause have wee to trust to fortunes ficklenes, that lost her in so good a cause, but fortune is blinde; and therefore I will speak no more of her, as not esteeming her worthy to be accoun­ted of in mans affaires, rather I judge that the divine providence, for some greivous offences of ours, have laid this plague up­on us: and therefore, to strive further a­gainst the gods, I think you will say 'twere madnes. What should we say, the Com­mons crie out, for the greivous taxations raised upon them, to maintaine the war, which sorting to so unwelcome an end, cannot choose but be a great greife to all, the treasuries are drawne drie, the navy is unfurnished, widowes in every place la­ment the losse of their husbands, fathers, and mothers sit weeping and wailing for the untimely losse of their deare children. [Page 82] Mariabdela laughes at our teares, and make the miserie of our losses, the trophies to renowne his victory; and for all these expences, not onely the first indignitie is not revenged, but also it is made greater by many new and latter misfortunes: they being enriched with our losses, and making provision for themselves of our stores. My advise therefore to your Majesty is, that you would finde out some honourable conditions of peace to be offered the bar­barians, rather than to continue the war, that hath hitherto sorted so unluckily on our sides, and therewith he ceased. Where­upon the Duke of Midnia, whose valour, fortune could never diminish, though shee might frown upon his actions, hearing he rose, and making due reverence, he spake to this purpose.

What honourable peace can the King of Spaine make with Mariabdela, when he was the first that provoked the Tunisian to fight? I grant this had beene good counsell at first, before the majesty of a King­dome had beene ingaged upon the enter­prise, but now, since it hath proceeded so far, as to the sterne deciding of the sword; [Page 83] I hold it no way honourable, for a little losse, to hazard the perpetuall honour of a mightie Kingdome, which cannot be avoi­ded, if wee give over now so faintly, what we begun with such alacritie; what though we have lost the fortune of a day or two, is that of force to impoverish a whole King­dome? (as you my Lord of Santa Crux would make us beleeve) can the expence of a million, were it two, empty the coffers of this Spaine? you much undervalew the re­venews of this rich Kingdome, to thinke so poorely of it; but if it were true, that these warres have so exhausted the treasu­ries, that the remainder will not suffice to furnish another fleete, is Spaine (I pray you) growne so desolate, that it hath no friend to helpe her in an extremitie so urgent? what is become of Italy, the ancient friend of Spaine? where is spacious France? is Sicily vanish't? is Rhodes perish't? is Malta drowned in the sea? or is the famous Greece sunke into the earth? can it be that none of these should yeeld us succour? Is it possible, that Mariabdela should have done no wrong to any of them? did not the fierce Martoll (waged by the King of [Page 84] Tunis) rescue the ships of Candy? force the fleete of Malta, spoile the navy of Rhodes, and ransome certaine Sirians bound for Greece, never sparing to doe any villany, till my selfe with the helpe of the brave brothers, overcame him; and since his death, have not whole fleetes of rovers bin set forth from Tunis, to rob and spoile, so that no merchants dare passe to and fro in any part of the straits, and doe you thinke that all these injuries can bee put in silence, as would bee, if these petty kings and princes had but the countenance of the great King of Spaine to animate them, per­haps you would have them come and of­fer their service unto you, unsent for, small reason for that, when you have not sent them any notice of your purposes, which if you neglected (as scorning to use the power of your inferiours) it was ill done, if as trusting to your owne force, to goe through with the enterprise, you see you are too fond in that: but never can it be too late to learne wisedome, and to put in pra­ctise any honourable action, it cannot be, that if your Majesty send your Ambassa­dors to these Princes, to crave their aide, [Page 85] they should be denied, nay rather it seemes to me, that they will (more than willing­ly) imbrace the motion, whereby, they shall not onely redeeme their owne parti­cular losses, but also binde the great king of Spaine to be their friend; with the aide of them, you may furnish out another ar­mie, which shall not onely beate the proud Barbarian, but also fully redeeme the dis­honour, and the losse of the former bat­tell: you urge the teares of orphans, the cryes of widowes, the laments of parents, and the wailing of freinds, as if they were not incident to the warres, can it bee (I pray you) that a battell should bee fought, and not one slaine? and if some bee slaine? can it bee there should bee none to bemoane them? or doe yee thinke there bee no wet eyes in Barbarie, as well as here in Spaine.? Mariabdela I am sure bought not his victory so cheape, nor am I a man so noted for cowardise, to give over the fight for nothing; I never fled before I met with Mariabdela, and then, I thinke I was vanquish't, meerely and solely, by the overpresse of multitudes: almost two for one were slaine on their partie, yet still [Page 86] they were supplyed with fresh ones, that it amazed mee, to see them spring up so fast (like Hydraes-heads) when one was lopt off, two arose in their places, so that (if I may speake it without being taxed of boasting) I thinke wee were overcome one­ly by being wearie of conquering; and I suppose, that the conquerour lost more, than wee that were vanquished: and well might they say with their countrie-man Hanniball, many such victories would un­doe them. Consider I pray, wee went (as you know) not past fifty gallies strong, when as Mariabdela, met us with about two hundred, and yet against such, we held out fight for the space of five yeeres, with­out any signe of disadvantage: imagine what wee could have done, had wee beene of any equality. These things considered, (my gracious Lord) it is my opinion, that it were best for your majestie, to send your messengers to the mighty young Princes for aide, wherewith you may raise such an army, as may quell the vaunting foe, and bring him downe in spite of his sun-burnt Moores: for my selfe I shall be ready as I have beene heretofore, to spend my best [Page 87] indeavours in your graces service, so hee ceased; when presently Martuvio arose, and making all humble reverence, he spake on this manner.

If it shall not seeme too much arrogance (my noble Lordes) for such younglings verdites amongst so many Nestors, or if wee bee not overhasty in speaking alrea­dy, that should rather bee seven yeares in hearing, I shall with confidence reveale a secret, which hath long time beene ham­mering in my head. What you my Lords of Midnia, and Santa Crux have worthi­ly spoken, hath its time, but not now; (pardon me if I reject such worthy coun­sell) for if what I have thought, may bee put in action, neither needeth his Majesty to seeke to the Barbarian for peace, nor to continue the warre, which hath already beene so unfortunate, and are both so un­luckily to succeed any thing well: for what peace, how little soever honour it may carry with it is to bee exqected from Mariabdela? whose nature seemes to be bloudily desirous of warre, that I suppose he did this injury to the merchants, as one­ly weary of an idle peace, and thirsting [Page 88] greedily after death and spoile, and there­fore it makes mee thinke, that hee will bee so farre from accepting a league of amity, now hee hath once beene flesh't in victory, that hee will rather come to seeke us at our owne homes, if wee once give him over; he wil with whole worlds of Moors, come up and spoile the country, and when your Ambassadors shall bee heard to treate for peace, hee will bee thereby the more ani­mated, as thinking it to bee done for feare. Hee is no childe, to thinke that wee would let him rest if wee could choose, besides, no honourable conditions of peace can bee concluded on, without requiring restituti­tution of the wrongs done to the Mer­chants, and doe you thinke that hee will heare it once spoken of, now hee is puft up with fame and victory, that was so farre off from consenting to it before the warre? never thinke that hee that dares doe a vil­lany, when he knows not his own strength, will make any amends for it, when hee knowes he can defend himselfe: so for a­ny further proceeding in the warres, I hold that to be as unprofitable too, not because I thinke we have no souldiers left, that dare [Page 89] not fight, or no commanders that dare va­liantly leade them on, or that I despaire of the helpe of the neighbouring Princes, but that I am verily perswaded, that all these together cannot make an army potent e­nough to meete him with two hundred sayle; as hee met our fleete of fifty: and do you thinke he can make no more, now hee hath taken so many of ours, and hath had so much time to provide more of his own? He hath all Africk at his command, a country large and wide, sufficiently pro­vided of timber, to make many fleetes of gallies, bigger than all our kingdome is able to make, and wonderfully replenished with a world of nations: 'tis true as my Lord Admirall hath said, that the onely advantage hee hath had against us, hath been by overpresse of multitude, and shall wee thinke that hee will at any time want that advantage, having such an innumera­ble company of people that yet never saw the sea? who though they bee not so expe­rient in fights, yet will they stand a blow, and so (as my Lord said) wee shall bee againe vanquished, with wearinesse of o­vercoming. I am no coward, that I dare [Page 90] not fight (for bee it spoken without boa­sting) were it put upon the point, my selfe would encounter with the whole hoste of Mariabdela, came hee in his greatest po­wer, but what good successe I should have, your Lordships may imagine: but I speak this, to save the great effusion of humane bloud, that must of necessity bee spilt in these bloudy actions, howsoever they speed. I speake it to dry up the teares of women and children, for the losse of their husbands and fathers; I speake it to stop the clamorous grumbling of the greived commons, that have beene, and still must bee, if the warre continue, taxed and oppressed with subsidies and toles, that of necessity they must bee drawne dry, or else fall to flat rebellion against his majesty, which might beget another danger grea­ter than the former. Yet would I not have your majesty wholy to give over the enter­prise, for I would not be thought to think so basely and poorely of the majesty of the kingdome of Spaine, but a way is to bee found out, which may make amends for all injuries, yet neither by seeking to the Tyrant for peace, nor by vexing our [Page 91] selves with any further broiles; but the matter needes not much conference, for my selfe with the assistance of my brother (and therewith Roderigo stood up too) have found out a way (which if it shall please your Majesty, and you my noble Lords to countenance,) I doubt not, but will bring the Tyrant Mariabdela to make you such recompence as you shall aske of him, or else hee shall forfeite his head to your Majesties clemency. The at­tempt in it selfe is dangerous, but what danger can appall a minde greedy of ho­nour? nor shall you thinke, that wee have invented a thing, wherein we shal have the glory of the counsell, and some other the danger of the action; for as wee have beene the first founders, so doe wee also offer our selves (if it stand with your Majesties good liking) to put in execution our owne devi­ces. I have heard it reported that the only men in the world that Mariabdela fears, are Sicilians, moved therto by a certain o­racle (how true, I know not) that a Sicilian and none else, shall bee his overthrow: and to this end, doth hee use all the meanes he can to get all Sicilians into his clutches, [Page 92] and having them, hee cruelly butchers them, as for other nations, hee entertaines men of all sorts into his service, without respect of any whatsoever. I will not dis­pute of the truth of this oracle, least I might seeme to question the knowledge of the di­vine powers; rather I think, this oracle de­livered in such plain words, does as al ora­cles use to doe, carry a double meaning, so wrapped and clouded in ambiguous obscurity, that onely the event of all must make it apparant: for seldome do the gods give forth their oracles, but the same implies a quite contrary thing, than is propounded by the bare words, which is alwaies manifested by the event; howsoe­ver, it is not my purpose, to enter into any mens discourse, onely my intent is by deedes, to make proofe whether the words of the oracle, and the meaning of it doe concurre together. But to come to the point, my brother and my selfe, according to a setled determination (which wee still submit to bee fashioned on the anvile of your grave wisedome) will as it were in secret depart from hence to Tunis, where by some meanes or other, wee will get ad­mittance [Page 93] into the Kings service, when if the meaning of the oracle deceive me not, wee shall use such meanes, as to bring the Tyrant away with us to Spaine, else let us dye forgot and unregarded; this if it hap­pen according to our intentions, as the willing forwardnesse of my heart makes mee presage it will, you may then use your owne pleasure, whil'st you have him in your power: but if it please the Gods that wee miscarry in the action, it cannot greatly hurt the state, but you may at your pleasure either conclude all, with what honourable peace you can, or else if that bee refused, you may proceed in the warre, in either of which two businesses, our two lives can smally shade you; this is our ad­vise, which if it please your Majesty to as­sent to, shall before to morrow morning bee put in practise: and I beseech the Gods, that the event may bee as fortunate, to the good of Spaine and you, as wee with wish­ing heartes, and more wills to goe for­ward, than to give it over, doe undergoe the enterprise.

No sooner had hee made an end of spea­king, but a generall silence was over the [Page 94] whole house, every man above measure, wondring at the great courages of the no­ble youthes, thinking a thing almost in­credible, that such young yeares should harbour so much valour, at last the Mar­quesse of Biscay, who was a man singularly reputed for wisedome and courage, and had all this while attentively listned to the wordes of the young man, marking with what confidence hee spake, as if the thing had beene done already, and not still to doe, rose up and spake thus.

For evetmore blest bee the gracious Gods of Spaine, for sending hither two such excellent men in so great a danger, and happy may that man bee, that first brought them into this assemhly. With favcur of your Majesty and the honoura­ble convent, it may please your Majesty and you my Lords to consider, that there can bee no more said in this businesse, than what hath been already delivered, for ei­ther you must as my Lord Marquesse counselleth, seeke out for some honoura­ble conditions of peace, which are as hard to finde, as they are unlikely to speed, or you must as my Lord of Midnia advi­seth, [Page 95] continue the warre, and send for aide to the neighbouring Princes, which way as it cannot choose but bee chargeable, so it is uncertaine to what end it will sort: or if neither of these please you, you must of necessity take hold of the device of yong Martuvio, which as it is in it self, a matter dangerous, and hopelesse ever to come to good, so being managed by men of such excellent wisedome and approved, it bindes in my breast a setled hope of a suc­cesse, worthy the men that undertake it. Mariabdela wee know is secure of his fate, fearing none but Sicilians, and who knows but (as Martuvio urged) the oracle may aime at some thing that is specified by the wordes, besides how easie a thing will it be for men brought up and exercised in wise­dome, to worke upon the nature of a rude Barbarian? whose onely wisedome is to feast and revell, giving himselfe over to drunkennesse and sensuality, not fearing any thing that may befall him, because hee onely feares Sicilians, of whom hee hath none in all his kingdome, they have all things on their side that may animate them, excellent shapes to procure admit­tance, [Page 96] excellent eloquence to perswade, excellent wisedome to insinuate into the secrets of the Barbarian, excellent valour to undertake any danger, that hath the least shew of likelihood, and excellent fortune I hope, to second their just under­takings. Stay not then for second thoughts, but if my counsell, which here­tofore hath prevailed with you, may now also bee of force to perswade you; you shall without delay put this attempt in ex­ecution, and with your continuall pray­ers, obtaine a happy end to so couragious an adventure, which howsoever, it may advantage the state, by bringing into your hands the man that hath so annoyd it, yet cannot it much hinder your procee­dings, if it fall contrarie to your expecta­tion: I am not so urgent in this businesse, as annoying the glory of the men, and therefore willing to put them upon an ad­venture, that if it succeed amisse, may bee their inevitable destruction, for the Gods bee my witnesses that my soule loveth them, and I rather bite this tongue out, than it should bee such a traitor to the state, to give such counsell as might rob [Page 97] the kingdome of two such precious jew­ells: but my heart is (I know not how) so fully perswaded of the good successe of this so honourable action, that I imagine, I should do much wrong to such excellent valour, if I should bee a meanes to starve it, by giving counsell to deprive it of such honourable food to nourish. On therefore most noble youthes, and may your hande bee as ready to put in execution, speed in your successe, and you may returne home crowned with glory, honour, and vi­ctory.

This speech so wrought with the whole assembly, that presently without any more debating on the matter, every man gave his assent, and the king highly com­mending their worth, gave his consent al­so. Now to avoide all feare of revealing of the matter, by meanes of spies, or else by treacherous & malecontented people, (as is too commonly seene in such busines­ses) every thing was carried in most admi­rable secrecy: The two brothers getting on a suddaine on horsebacke, and riding in all post-haste to the sea-side, where fin­ding a fisher-boate, they presently went [Page 98] into it, such was their confidence in their just cause, and with it they crossed the seas to Tunis. In the meane, time the king of Spaine, provided every thing for a new army, as if hee would presently have gone on another voiage in his owne person, and in this preparation wee will leave them.

Our two Sicilians row'd so long, till at last they came to their journeyes end, and were no sooner landed, but they were pre­sently set upon by the guard of the place, and strict inquirie was made; who, what, and of whence they were, they made an­swer, that they were Spaniards, and were come to offer up their service to the King of Tunis, hereupon, presently they were carried before the king, who being set in his Majestick state, with a sterne counte­nance, asked who they were? whereupon, Martuvio (nothing daunted with his great lookes) boldly made this re­ply.

The time has beene great king of Tunis, when hee that should have said, wee two should have come to offer thee our service, might have perchance received the lye for [Page 99] his labour, for wee were once thy profest enemies, nay that if wee could, and would have cut thy head off, had it beene in the middest of this royall pallace; wee are the men, that slew Martoll and Folco, the two swordes of Barbary, and have be­sides done thee no small mischeife: but now it so falls, that wee that have been thy profest foes, are now become votaries, wee that have done thee so much outrage, are come hither to seeke shelter under thy wings, for the ingratefull king of Spaine, not content to leave our vertue unrewar­ded, (which hee ought to have cherished with the best of his indeavours,) hath gone further, even to the seeking of our lives, and yet (good Gods) how many wayes is that man beholding to us! what had become of the poore Duke of Midnia, and his weather-beaten fleete, when they encountred with couragious Martoll, be­fore Zanto, if our swordes had not ended the controversie, by the death of those brave men; for whom, I could weepe, to thinke that such excellent souldiers, should end their lives to benefit thereby, so ingratefull a person, and that by our [Page 100] hands, to make us so much more misera­ble: by how much it is more wretched, to bee enforced to aske releife of an ene­my, than to remaine at home, in ease and tranquillitie, besides, in those latter fights in which it pleased the Gods to favour mee, what had become of his whole peo­ple, if our breasts had not beene the bul­warkes to their safe intreaty? in which though it was our fortune to loose the day, yet I may speake it withaut boasting, they that escaped alive, may thanke our valours for their safeties, and yet for these things (for I take the Gods to bee my wit­nesses that we never injur'd him,) this in­grateful king, this king (said I) this any thing, this indeed nothing, laid wait to in­trap our lives, but that by speedy flight we prevented it. Wee come therefore to thy imperiall Majesty, as the Roman Coriolanus, did to his enemies the Volscians, & if it shall please thy Majesty, to commit any charge of trust to us, wee make no doubt, but as Coriolanus was the sorest enemy to Rome, so Martuvio and Roderigo shall prove the greatest opposites to ingratefull Spaine.

These words so bewitched the tyrants [Page 101] affection, that hee was on fire to entertaine them, hee saw no cause to feare, they were not Sicilians, their speech, their gar­ments, their lookes, and all their gestures, openly proclaimed them Spaniards: their sparkling eyes full of revengefull fire, their menacing speeches, repleate with deadly threatning, their constant and unmov'd gesture answering to their lookes and spee­ches, did evidently manifest a deadly ha­tred to their native countrie: their bold adventuring in so small a vessell, argued the necessity of their flight. Valiant hee knew they were, for hee himselfe had had experience of their force, and hee esteem'd them to bee wondrous wise, as choosing rather to put in hazard the clemency of their enemy, than to tarry at home with a certaine assurance of destruction, nor did hee want presidents of the like kinde to warrant his acceptance of them, til he had heard of Coriolanus the Romane, and his flight to the Volscians, and what followed thereupon; hee remembred Themiostcles the Athenian, and his escape to the king of Persia, as also Alcibiades the Athenian, and his departure to the Lacedemonians: [Page 102] and why should not the revolt of these two brave Spaniards, be as fortunate to him, as that of Coriolanus to the Volscians, of The­mistocles to the Persians, and of Alcibiades to the Lacedaemonians? Upon these conside­rations, and withall building upon his ora­cle, he bade them heartily welcome, telling them they should injoy as much safety in his court, as they had found treachery in the court of Spain, & that they should find, when occasion served to imploy them, in the mean time, they should be dear to him, and alwayes neere about his person.

The good fortune at the entrance of their enterprise, put our two gallants in an assured hope of an absolute conclusion; and therefore, with attractive greedines they expected opportunitie to put some­thing of their businesse in practise, much honour was done them by the rude Barba­rian, and highly respected were they of all men, because every body knew it was the kings pleasure they should bee so re­spected: the king himselfe exceedingly favouring them, as being bewitched with their insinuating speeches, not knowing that hee hatched serpents to sting himselfe [Page 103] to death, yet did they not want enemies, who laboured what they could to bring them into displeasure with the king, some envying that strangers should bee so highly advanced above the native people, others emulating their glory in deedes of armes, hating all worthinesse in others, because they had none to bragge off in themselves, but others of a more subtile and acute inge­nuitie, deepely suspected that this might be some subtle practise from the cunning Spa­niard, and therefore they used all diligence, to pry into their actions, if perchance, they could learne any thing, to make their sus­pition seeme a certainty. But our suppo­sed Spaniards used themselves so warily, that they failed of their purpose, yet never­thelesse, they ceased not to observe them more narrowly, not sticking at last to un­fold their suspition to the king, using ma­ny reasons to perswade him to looke more neerely to himselfe, than to trust his safety to the faith of them, that were borne his enemies, but hee lull'd in securitie by their pleasing his humours, would not listen to any such complaints.

This could not bee so closely carried, [Page 104] but the two strangers understood it, and therefore wisely considering, that though now they were fully possessed of the kings favour, yet the tide might turne, and hee might bee wrought to injure them, they resolved betweene themselves, that it was time to put in practise their adventure, to which effect, the surest way (as they thought) was, that an army should bee brought from Spaine thither, but than they wanted meanes to certifie the king of Spaine of their purpose, but fortune that would not suffer such designes to perish in the blossome, provided them of a meanes for that too. It fortuned that a merchant of Genoa, at that time residing in Tunis, was at that time providing to return home to his owne country, with him they agreed to carry a letter for them, and to convay it to Spaine, which hee readily consented to, and accordingly performed.

These newes being on this manner brought to the king of Spaine, without any the least suspition in the Barbarian of any such practise, an army was forthwith levied, and set forth under the conduct of the Duke of Midnia, in the meane time, the [Page 105] two brothers, so wrought with the king of Tunis, that hee had promised them the conduct of an army, to bee lead against Spaine, but this newes of this new army, quite put out such determinations for now it was fitter to looke to his owne defence, than to the assayling of others: and there­fore with all speed possibly hee prepared his navy to meete them, some there were, that counselled him to leave the Spaniards at home, (as it seemed) presaging what af­terward proved to bee true, but hee would not by any means heare of any such thing, yet did hee (for the more security as hee thought) take them into his owne gally, because he would bee sure alwayes to have an eye on.

In this manner, they met with the ene­my, who presently gave them battell, and the sigstht was fierce on both sides; in the heate whereof, and when the ships of either partie had boorded each other, and were fast grapled together, the two brothers (who were placed as I said before, in the kings owne ship) thinking now or never, to bee the time they had so long loo­ked for: on a suddaine, they tooke [Page 106] the Barbarian in their armes, and violently threw him into the ship that was next them, where before hee could rise againe, hee was taken and carried under hatches, the brothers in the meane time, shewing what they were, violently set upon the Barbarians in that ship, making a way for the Spaniards, who presently boorded her.

This chance so terrified the poore Afri­cans, that they knew neither what to say or doe; and the cry went in an instant, that the king was taken: whereupon, being infinitely amazed, and in this amazement▪ the Spaniards furiously assaulting them, they lost all courage, and therefore, with what speed they could, ungrapling them­selves, in a most confused order they fled, and were as fast pursued by the enemie, who tooke and kill'd as many as they o­vertooke, in this sort, they rested not, the one party flying, and the other following, till they came to the haven of Tunis, where the Barbarians, presently getting a shore, made a fresh resistance, to stop al the Spani­ards from landing, but smally had it ad­vantaged them, being already beaten, and [Page 107] their enemies the conquerours, had not presently a flagge beene put out: for the Lordes of the countrey, who were left as governours of the place, while the king was at the warres, hearing of the over­throw, and of the captivity of the king, and now fearing the surprizall of the towne, they chose rather, to stand to such conditions of peace, as the enemy should propose to them, than by their further ob­stinacies to procure an inevitable destru­ction, to themselves, and to their whole countrey. Upon these considerations, the flagge of truce was put forth, which was answered with the like from the ene­my, whereupon, it came to a treaty, and conditions were made, that the Barbari­ans should make such satisfaction, both for the wrong done to the merchants, and for the charges the Spaniard had beene at in these present warres, and for the redemp­tion of their king, as the king of Spaine should impose: and to that end, their Ambassadours should forthwith goe with them to Spaine, and for security of this, they should entertaine into the city, till the conditions were performed, such a [Page 108] company of souldiers, as the Lord admi­rall should thinke sufficient, for the guard of the place; this if they would not agree to, they should stand to the hazard of the fight, necessity so urged them, that of force these conditions were excepted: only they desired that they might bee no more trou­bled with their king, who was so fell a ty­rant, that they were not able longer to in­dure him, and therefore, they requested the Duke, that since it was his fortune to have him in his hands, hee would bee pleased to use such meanes with the king, as that the tyrant might no more trouble them, and if hee would take such an order, they would wholy submit themselves to his go­vernement, rather choosing to bee commanded by a stranger, than such a monster.

Every thing being ordred, in a most con­venient maner, and a garrison of souldiers put into the towne; the Duke of Midnia, with the two noble youthes, and the pri­soner king of Tunis, and the Ambassadors of the towne returned homeward, where they were received with the loud clamours and shoutes of joy, of the overgladded [Page 109] people, every where they came, shewes and triumphes were presented them, and all of them, some in one sort, and some in ano­ther, setting forth the honourable actions of the noble Sicilians: in this pompous manner, they came at last to the court at Sivill, where they were entertained by the king in most loving manner, especially the two brothers, whom with the armes of love hee imbraced, calling them his prote­ctours and defenders, imputing those things to their honour and fame, that they of duty ought to have performed. Thus liv'd these two in honour and credit, every man highly esteeming them, as the onely mirrours of admirable valour, and singu­lar wisedome in that age.

This honour done to the overthrowers made the Barbarian beyond measure mad, and his fortune so contrary to his expe­ctation, made him to doubt of his oracle, yet did he not absolutely despair of it, till the Ambassadours being dismissed, and every thing being agreed upon, and hee seeing no hope of escape, hee began then utterly to taxe the Gods of falshood, impi­ously blaspheming those powers for so [Page 101] deluding him. After some time (at the request of the brothers) hee was brought to the kings presence (where to vindicate the Gods of such injury as hee had offered them) they told him plainely that they were Sicilians, relating to the king, and the rest of those that were present, their coun­trey, kindred, and family, and how they were stolne from Sicily by the Pyrats, and afterwards with them cast away upon the coast of Spaine, where they were found by fisherman of Tarragona, this newes as on the one side, it amazed the king, with such an accident, so on the other side, it much more madded the Barbarian, cursing him­selfe for neglect, for being overreach't in such manner, and therefore, what with shame of his overthrow, and with new tor­ment of conscience, for his old wicked­nesse, hee desperately abstained from food, and so dyed by famine, nor was his death lamented of any, but rather it much joyed the heart of the Tunisians, to heare that hee was sure enough for ever troubling them any more.

In the meane time, the two famous youthes, burning in desire to see their na­tive [Page 111] countrey, their parents, and kindred, humbly requested the king to grant them his Majesties licence to depart for a time to Sicily, to see whether their father and mother were alive or no, and afterward they would returne, and spend their lives in his graces service. This so reasonable request, the king soone consented to, and therefore willingly, hee gave them licence to depart at their pleasure, and withall gave them his commendatory letters to the governors of Sicily, to receive them as men whom hee highly favoured. Hum­bly therefore, taking their leaves, (after due provision of every thing for their journey) they departed to Tarragona, where they inquired for old Sancho their foster-father, whom having found, they re­warded with rich gifts, which did not so much glad the good old man, as it did joy him to see them, whose lives hee had saved, in such honour and dignity; there they tooke shipping, and departed to Sicily, in which journey, wee will for a while leave them, and returne once againe to our wedding, which wee left in so good for­wardnesse.

[Page 112]But fortune, as it seem'd willing to shew what authority shee had in lovers procee­dings, once more laid a stumbling blocke to crosse their happinesse; Hormisda and Polypus, (those two brothers in mischeife) who (as you heard before) left the Castle to the conquering lovers, never left their flight, till they came to Palermo, a city not farre off, where there dwelt an aunt of theirs, named Andriana, a woman so well skill'd in ill, that shee was the tutresse to her forward nephewes: aged shee was a­bout fiftie, but of crabbed conditions, and testy of nature, that the pettish favour of her angry wrinckled face, shewed her to bee farre older than indeed shee was. Her continuall practise was to entise youth to any evill, and when shee fai­led of her intents, shee would sit feeding herselfe with despite and anguish, other mens adversity was as a cordiall to her, but their prosperity poyson'd her: shee practis'd physicke, but to what purpose I know not, for there were few that knew her, that would venture under her hands for a cure; so that generally shee was despi­sed and contemned, as a woman of the [Page 113] most wretched cōditions of the whole city.

To this gracious mistresse, did these two (striplings in her art) come for shelter, who though shee were crabbed to others, ye [...] did shee love them intirely, mov'd thereto perhaps by the congruitie of their condi­tions: and therefore welcoming them, shee inquired of their estate, and what chance had driven them to Palermo? but when shee knew the cause, her heart was so full of revengefull anger, that shee could not speake in a good while, her teeth chat­tered in her head, and her eyes stared, as if they would have leapt out, to seeke those over-happy couples: at last anger gave place to words, and therefore taking her kinsmen by the hands, and seating them by her, shee thus spake unto them.

Since the death of your good uncle (my deare nephewes) I have not entertai­ned news that was so displeasing to me, to see that fortune should so much foole you, as to bring you to the goale of happinesse, and then to leave you, and turne to your enemies. Trust mee nephewes, I could bee angry with you, for loving, for what is love? that hee should have power over [Page 114] you, that are men of a more austere condi­tion, then those that are Cupids Votarists; but more angry I am, in that being so deep­ly in love, as you were, you would suffer your selves to bee so gull'd by a couple of wenches: had you them not in your owne power, to doe with them what you pleased? and yet must you needes stand to their courtesie, that would not yeeld to your prswasion, now by the crisped lockes of sterne Hecate, you were too blame, too childish; you should rather have shewed your selves like men, and as you surprised them well and cunningly, so you should have proceeded accordingly, and not used such intreaties to such peevish sluts: who now that they are free, will laugh at your folly, and boast themselves in your indis­cretion, vaunting of their wits in beguiling two men so well skill'd in Venus art, as Hormisda and Polipus. It was not well nephews, it was not well, and I could chide you for it, but that I see you penitent and ashamed of your owne weaknesse, but shall these roysters boast themselves thus? shall they say Hormisda and Polypus are over­come? and Andriana cannot helpe them? [Page 115] no, rather will I move hell, and call all those powers to my aide, rather will I send the furies with their whips of steele to scourge them, till they fall to despaire, and hang themselves, were not that a sweet revenge, nephewes? trust mee, were I to choose; no other way would I revenge my selfe, but by their deathes: but I see unwonted pitty appeare in your eyes, and you that were wont to delight in nothing so much as blood, now me thinkes started at the name of death. O then I see, love hath such mastery over you, that nothing but the fruition of those sweetes of love can satisfie you, and is it so indeed? well then, though I hate this foolish compassio­nate love in you, whom in my minde, it fitted rather to laugh at their downefall, than to desire their company, yet since I hope, that after you have had your wils on them, your selves will be their fatal execu­tioners, I am contented for this once, to mollifie my hardned nature, and to beate my brains for a way to work your desires.

These kind wordes so fired their hearts, that they thanked their aunt, promising if shee would performe this, that afterward [Page 116] they would bee wholly at her comman­dement, whereupon, shee thus began againe.

It is a hard matter nephewes, to com­passe your desires, it being a thing altoge­ther impossible, for man or devill to change the will of any, and therefore you must not expect that they can bee wrought to love you, but you must determine, that when you have them in your power againe, (which is all I can performe for you) you must banish al lenity from you, and be no­thing mov'd with their teares or intrea­ties; now to worke this, a new way must bee invented, because I thinke they will not bee so foolish hereafter, to trust them­selves so without company, and to attempt to take them perforce, were a matter of much difficulty, if not impossibility. I have therefore invented a meanes, whereby in spite of all the world you shall enjoy Callanthia and Florella; get mee presently without delay, two paire of gloves, rich and costly, such as you thinke may fit their hands, these will I so charme with ma­gicke spells, and forcible incantations, that whosoever drawes them on, shall suddaine­ly [Page 117] fall into so deepe a sleepe, that all signe of life shall bee extinguished in them, till they are pull'd off againe. These inchan­ted gloves, shall one of you in some dis­guise, present to the two wenches, as from their sweet-hearts (but see you choose your time wisely, that you bee not intrapped in your owne subtility) which they shall no sooner have pull'd on, but drowsie sleep will take possession on their eyes, and then I hope I shall not need to instruct you how you should use them: this (if you play your parts as well as I will mine) cannot choose but bee a plot thriving and fortu­nate.

This plot was so pleasing to the ne­phewes, that thanking their aunt excee­dingly for her good counsell, they present­ly fetch't the gloves, with which the devill and shee wrought so throughly, that som­nivolent power, was transfused into them; which was no sooner done, but Hormisda having by diligent inquiry, found a time when the two lovers were at their owne castle, in the disguise of a serving-man, went to present their giftes to the beaute­ous sisters. Fortune so favoured him, that [Page 118] he found them walking together, all alone, in a little grove, which as it was out of sight of their fathers house, yet was it with­in hearing, and therefore they feared no treachery there, the false Hormisda, finding them so conveniently, applauding highly his good fortune, went boldly to them, and with an humble reverence, pre­sented them with the gloves, with these speeches.

My noble masters Cleanthes and Polydo­re, humbly kisse the hands of their beaute­ous mistresses, and by mee their servant, present your Ladyships with these gloves, though farre too meane to be worne up­on such delicate handes, earnestly request­ing you, to pardon their whole dayes ab­sence, from your wish't presence: prote­sting it hath beene, as a tedious winter of perpetuall frost, to bee kept so long from the comfortable sunne of your faire beau­ties, such is the urgency of their present businesse, that they must of necessity en­dure this torment, till to morrow mor­ning, and then they will delay no longer, to tender you their service, in the meane time, not to bee thought altogether un­mindefull [Page 119] of you, they have sent me their unskillfull messenger, to make their ex­cuse: but least my unlikely presence, might worke no beleife in your easie na­ture, they have intrusted mee with the deli­very of these gloves, as an instance that I came from them, kissing them before they parted with them, and desiring you to put them on, that those gloves that kist their lips, might bee so happy as to kisse your hands.

The gentlewomen, could not choose but smile to see, with what a shamefac't bashfulnesse, the fellow delivered his mes­sage, as seeming to bee an unskillfull rhe­torician in the art of love; and therefore taking the gloves of him, they bade him returne their thankes to their masters, and tell them, that had they not sent a good oratour to make their way, they should surely have beene well chidden for their negligence, but now they would pardon them, if they would keep their words, and not faile to see them on the morrow, and therewith they drew on the gloves, which were so fit for them, that they much com­mended their skill in choosing them, the [Page 120] transformed servingman, having done his message, humbly taking his leave, told them hee would carry their answers to his masters.

Hee had not gone farre, but looking be­hinde him, hee might perceive them to bee laid downe on the grasse, the vertue of the charme having so wrought on them, that they were not able to goe any further, and therefore yeelding to necessitie, they laid them downe: which hee well seeing, call'd forth his aunt & brother, (who stood not farre off in a thicket) requiring their aide to beare them away, but the wretched Audriana, excellently well skill'd in mis­cheife, feeling their breath and pulse, and perceiving all to bee quiet as shee wished, stayed them with this gracious coun­sell.

Rash beginnings (nephewes) make as untoward an ending, and a hasty bitch you know brings but blinde puppies: wise men should consider of their actions, before they undertake them, and see what successe or feare of danger they carry with them, and not runne headlong on without discretion, as if fortune must needes favour [Page 121] you, howsoever you order your procee­dings. I speake this (nephewes) as taxing your overhasty forwardnesse, in a mat­ter of so great moment; for what could you get by thus conveying them a­way, but an assured destruction? for you would bee the first that would bee suspe­cted for stealing them, as having done it before: therefore my counsell is, that you stay till they are buried, and then you may at pleasure take them out of the tombe, and use them without suspition; besides, how would my heart leape within mee, if wee could by some quaint meanes, accuse their sweethearts of their death, and bring them to death for it. O it would make mee young againe, which mee thinkes were ea­sie to bee brought o passe, would you fol­low my counsell, and behave your selves resolutely & like men! Not far off the two lovers are coming hitherwards, I descried them now against they come hither, goe you and raise the officers and the people to apprehend them, as guilty of poysoning them, which you must constantly avouch; as for my selfe I will not bee seene in it, that it may carry the more shew of truth, [Page 122] and when they come to see their sweete-heartes, they shall not onely finde them (as they will suppose) dead, but also they shall bee apprehended, arraigned, condem­ned, and executed for their deathes, whilest you two, void of all manner of feare, may freely injoy the sweet imbraces of your loves, and I may fat my selfe with joy for the happy overthrow of two such cou­ples.

This counsell was so well liked, that it was presently put in practise, for the two brothers perceiving the gentlemen to bee neere at hand, ranne in all haste to the towne, with a loud outcry, strongly accu­sing Cleanthes and Polydore, for the poyso­ning of Callanthia and Florella, which they constantly avouched themselves to have seene, as they went that way by chance; this strange accident amazed all men, especially such as knew the persons that were so taxed, yet their constant accu­sation of them, upon their owne know­ledge, moved a beleife in them, yet mixt with admiration for so rare a chance: of­ficers therefore and a guard being appoin­ted, then they went directly to the place [Page 123] where they found the two gentlemen, and old Clidamas (whom their outcry had cal­led forth) wofully lamenting the losse of two such excellent creatures, blaming the crueltie of death and fortune, for crossing so happy a marriage, as would have beene in the conjunction of so excellent paires: seldome is it seene, that greife goes alone, but commonly one falls upon the neck of another, and so it was here, for the guard upon the sight of the Gentlemen, presently apprehended them on suspition of mur­der, for poisoning the two gentlewomen: which Hormisda and Polipus (being dis­guised) constantly maintained to bee true, as having themselves seene the deede done.

This was strange newes to the distracted lovers, and as strange it was to old Clida­mas, for though hee was strongly perswa­ded of the integritie, and vertue of his sonnes, and knew by experience, that they lov'd his daughters exceedingly, yet the unmov'd gesture of the accusers, his igno­rance of them, as not knowing them, made him wonder, yet could hee not bee perswa­ded; but that they were false, and there­fore [Page 124] he told the officers, that they were mistaken, and tooke wrong persons, that the accusers eyes had deceived them, taking one for another, that the gentlemen and his daughters were contracted together, and within three or foure dayes should have beene married, had not this untimely chance hapned, and therefore it was not to bee credited, that they should so sudainely bee changed from dying for their loves, if it should have beene denied them, to flat poysoning them, which could not be done but for a mortall hate: but all would not doe, for the accusers were instant and urge their assertion; and the officers beleeved, and therefore without any more reply, they carried them away to Palermo to prison, yet before they went, they desired Clidamas not to beleeve any such report, protesting that they were, as cleare of the fact, as they were grieved for the losse of their espoused wives: requesting moreo­ver, that he would for their sakes, whom e­ver he had affected, keepe the bodies unbu­rial, till the truth of the whole matter, should bee made manifest, this he promi­sed to performe, so with teares on either­side, [Page 125] they departed, they to prison, and hee home, with his supposed dead daughters to his owne house.

The day of triall was within two dayes after, which being come, and the Iudges seated according to the custome, the priso­ners were placed at the barre, where plea­ding not guilty, and putting themselves to the triall of the law, the accusers were com­manded to stand forth and speake, where­upon, Hormisda stood forth, and spake thus.

It may seeme a strange matter (reverent Iudges) for us, that are meere strangers in this place, to accuse them of such eminent note as these two are reported to bee, and of a crime so monstrous and hainous, but our consciences told us, that if wee kept such a deed of darkenesse privy to our selves, wee should make our selves also guil­ty of the fact, and therefore wee thought it better to accuse them, then to carry about with our selves the tedious gripings of a guilty conscience; for alas, what else would it have benefited us, to have them perish? they being men so farre from doing us any injury, that I know not whether wee have [Page 126] seene them heretofore or no, and therefore farre bee it from you, to imagine that wee should accuse them out of spleene or anger, whom now first of all wee know: and I would to God it had not beene our hap so to have knowne them, then should we per­chance have beene safer, and avoided the envy of the over-affectionate multitude, for accusing them great in their favour: for you are not ignorant my Lordes, what a burthen we have brought upon our selves, wee incurre the malice of the people, what more violent? we adventure rude and sim­ple, against men of excellent eloquence and attracting rhetorick, and what more hope­lesse? we undergoe the sharp censure of the law, if wee should bee overthrowne, and what more dangerous? yet such is our set­led confidence, in the justice of our owne cause, & the trust we have in your upright­nesse, that wee dare adventure all these, and as many more, in the discharging our soules of so heavy a weight, as the concea­ling of so impious a murder

May it please your Lordships, therefore to understand, that upon the day of this bloody deed, my friend here and my selfe, [Page 127] travailing towards Palermo, and passing through a little grove, suddainely heard a cry, and the neerer we appoached to it, the more perfectly we perceived it to be a wo­mans voice, and therefore making hast, wee might sometimes by fits, hear these or some like speeches, as gentle loves have pitty on us, bee not so unmercifull, to staine your faire hands, in our innocent bloods, these words made us mend our pace, to see if wee could (as manhood willed us) save the lives of the women, from such bloody butchers; wee were no sooner come into sight, but wee might behold, the two gen­tlewomen (that are now dead) kneeling at the feet of these two, (men I cannot call them) who with their daggers in one hand, and a cup of poison in the other, stood over them with menacing looks and threatning gesture, offring them deadly poison, or they should feele the sharpnesse of their merciles daggers, which we seeing, presently cried out to them to hold their hands, and desist from so unmercifull a deed, withall with our swords drawne of­fring to inforce them, if they would not give over, but they (as we then proved, and [Page 128] since have heard) being men approved in warre and fights, presently grew too hard for us, & would have charmed our tongues for ever babling, if our legs had beene no better than our hands: but the Gods bee thanked wee outranne them, and so saved our selves, they had no sooner chased us, but they returned againe to their former businesse; wee being now safe from their swordes, willing to save the Gentlewomen, and yet not daring to come into their sight any more, resolved that my friend should runne to the towne to fetch helpe, whil'st I getting as nere as I could, observed their actions: so wee parted, and I closely creeping along a banke, came within hea­ring of them, when I might heare one of the Gentlewomen, thus speake.

Alas deare love! what chance hath so suddainely converted thy earnest love, to so deadly hate? what hath poore Callan­thia done, to incite Cleanthes to this tyran­ny? alas my love, tell mee my fault, that before I dye (if I must needes dye) I may repent me of it if I can, if not, I may the more willingly receive my death, as having done a fault which Cleanthes cannot for­give, [Page 129] To which, hee made this answer, Plague of my heart (said hee) thy life is the onely fault that I finde in thee, and of that I would faine purge thee, either by this precious potion, or letting thee blood with this daggers point, and why is my life be­come a fault (said shee?) because whilest I live (said hee) I shall never bee happy, for mine eyes have beheld so tempting a beau­ty, that I am dead till thy death release mee of that fond contract, that formerly I made with thee. Nay then tis time that I were dead, (said she) that am a hinderer of Cle­anthes happinesse, and is this your doome too (said the other gentlewoman to her false friend) it is (said hee) and therefore dispatch, and either drinke this poyson, or feele the sharpnesse of my daggers point, and therewith they thrust the cups to their mouthes, holding their daggers at their breasts, but the poore gentlewomen not knowing which to choose, and inforced to choose one; dranke the poyson, and so died: oft did my heart bid mee to goe and rescue, yet I durst not adventure mine own life to save an others. No sooner were the two gentlewomen cold and dead, but [Page 130] my friend returned with officers from the towne, but too late, for they were past all helpe, the two murderers no sooner per­ceived them coming, but thinking no bo­dy had seene the deed done; they fell up­on the dead bodies, lamenting their deaths with many a fained sigh, and many a teare forcibly wrung from their relentlesse eyes. Thus my Lords you have heard the truth of all, which how strange soever it seemes, yet if you consider the force of prevailing lust, what power it hath over mans affecti­on, it will not seeme a thing impossible, for two such youg men to bee overcome with lust, and being overcome, to be drawn by it to worke such outrage. Consider my Lords, that they which could do such a vil­lany, could dissemble it, & they that could so well dissemble, can as stiffely deny the fact, it being now their onely safety; for I do not thinke they are so fond to hope for mercy, after the doing of an act so foul, and consider that when wee would have saved them, and could not, wee doe now our best indeavours to bring the actours to due punishment, that such a vile and in­humane deed, may not want a deserved [Page 131] recompence.

This hee spake with so setled and un­mov'd a countenance, that he possessed the hearts of the whole bench, with a ful belief of what he spake: yet that the custome of the law might proceed according to the custome, the prisoners were commanded to speake for themselves, what they could, whereupon Cleanthes thus spake.

Were thy sword as valiant as thy tongue, I would desire these Lords that the justice of the cause might onely bee decided by our swords, then would I make thy false tongue unsay, what it hath now spoken, or send thy blacke soule to the lowest hell to teach those lying spirits a new way to falshood: but since thou hast cunningly confest thy selfe too weake, I scorne to of­fer thee a combat, rather will I fight with thee at thine owne weapon; and though my tongue bee not so voluble as thine, yet shall thee pure sincerity of my hearty in­nocence, out ballance the faire colours of thy slanderous rhetoricke. What ere thou art, thou art as farre from my know­ledge, as thy spotted soule is from good­nesse, onely I know thee to bee false and [Page 132] wretched, hired it may bee for some bribe, to accuse innocent men, or if thou dost it of thy selfe, thou art so farre below mee, that I cannot imagine an occasion why thou shouldest doe it, nor know I how to answer thee as thou deservest. To answer to his accusation with an absolute negati­on, (though it were sufficient in respect of the clearnesse of our consciences) yet in respect of your satisfaction (worthie Lordes) it might seeme lame, as wanting due proofes to make it goe upright. To answer therefore, to this false accusation, I absolutely deny it to be false, for consi­der reverent Iudges, the persons accusing, men of no note, insomuch that I think there is no man in this whole assembly, that hath any knowledge of them, so that for ought I or any man else know, they may bee men of so wicked conversation, that they are not to bee beleeved, but of that I am not now to dispute, next consider my Lordes the persons accused, men (that if it may bee lawfull for us to speake in our owne praise) have also been reputed vertuous and honest, never before tainted with the least crime, but esteemed among [Page 133] the best and most vertuous people of this countrey, and among them not as the un­derlings of all, but as men of cheife note and reckoning, but that is not now to availe us, for wee are accused, and these are our accusers, but of what doe they accuse us? of the deathes of Callanthia and Flo­rella, good Gods! how miserable are wee two of a suddaine become, not onely to be deprived of the lives of our lifes, our dea­rest spouses, but to bee also accused as men so voide of grace and pitty, nay of valour and manly constancy, as not onely on a suddaine to hate, but also so cruelly to murder those our so deare spouses, good Gods what should I say if this be beleeved! who shall bee free from slanderous accusa­tions? whom will not desperate villains for gaine or malice dare to accuse? if it bee beleeved that Cleanthes and Polydore were the deaths of Callanthia and Florella, who will not feare to love, least his love should miscarry, and hee bee condemned for the fault, for were they not our dearest treasures? could wee live one day from their sight? were they not our selves? and how say you then? that Callanthia [Page 134] kneeled at Cleanthes his feete, begging for mercy and could not obtaine it: as if Cleanthes should have sought for pitty from himselfe, and been denied it, how say you that Cleanthes preferred the beauty of another before Callanthia's, as if Cleanthes should love any ones face more then his owne, how will you perswade that Clean­thes should poyson Callanthia, as if Clean­thes should bee drawn to poison himselfe, and how will you make any one believe, that Polydore was of that minde too, as if Polydore should bee as madde as Cleanthes to poyson himselfe, if you can believe this? what will you not believe? or if you will not believe this to bee false? I can onely foresee what will follow, but know not how to avoide: for wee can say no more in our defence then this, that none loved a­ny better then wee did them, and therefore none so unlikely as wee to murder them.

This speech though it were in it self true; and bred a like working in the hearts of many, yet weighed with the others ve­hement asseverations, and reproofes, it see­med of small force to them that were of [Page 135] indifferent affection to either, which the Iudges pondring and overwaighing of the plaintiffes truth, hee proceeded to sentence in this manner.

It is a hard matter in so difficult a cause, to give a right sentence, it is therefore the duty of the accusers, to bring in a true evi­dence, else it will redound to their owne shame and ignominy: consider therefore, you that are the plaintiffes, that if you fals­ly accuse these gentlemen, their blouds will bee required at your hands, and you shall dearely pay for it, you also that are heere accused, if you bee guilty of the crime? I would advise you openly to confesse it, and disburthen your soules of so cumber­some a trouble, as I know the smoothering of such a sinne will bee, but if you know your selves innocent? you shall bee sure of an unspeakeable joy at your deathes, and that is all the comfort I can give: for wee have not eyes that can pierce into the bottomes of mens hearts, wee are to judge by the outward appearance, and [...]ccording to the evidence that is brought against you, now therefore considering, your accu­sers, doe heere accuse you of this murder, [Page 136] not by meere probability, by plaine de­monstration, as having themselves seene the deed done, which you doe not cleare your selfe off, but onely by certaine likeli­hoods, as how unlikely it is for men of your ranke and quality, to doe such mis­cheifes to persons whom you so dearly af­fected, indeed it is something unlikely, but not a matter of impossibility, and there­fore hearing what either side hath or can say, I thinke it the safest way to judge ac­cording to the great appearance of truth.

Since therefore, you two Cleanthes and Polydore, have beene here accused, arraign­ed, and convicted, of the murder of Cal­lanthia and Florella, I then pronounce your sentence, that you be had from hence, to the great market place, and there a scaf­fold being erected, you shall upon it lose your heades, and the Gods shew mercy on your soules.

The sentence was forthwith put in exe­cution, for a scaffold being errected in the market place, the two condemned gentle­men (with a sufficient guard) were brought unto it, where being mounted up, they de­sired [Page 137] the officer that was appointed to see the execution done, that hee would grant them so much respite, till they might send to the house of old Clidamas, to bring thi­ther the bodies of his dead daughters, that they might take their last farewell of them: to this the officer willingly consented, and one was sent to fetch them.

Old Clidamas, who all this time had kept his house, as in suspence what should become of his two friendes, now that hee heard of their condemnation, and the message they had sent unto him, rising up and saying nothing but, O justice, how are thy blinde eyes abused! hee tooke the dead bodies, and laid them both upon one beere, apparrelled still as they were at first, and with them went to the city, and coming to the scaffold, and taking his friendes about the neckes, it was a good while ere teares would let him speake, at last speech made an eruption to this purpose.

How is it, O yee Gods! that yee have no way to defend the innocent? must it needes bee that a guiltlesse life must be lost for a deed that some other blondy villaine [Page 138] hath committed? if it be so then? at least grant me this boone, that the truth of this mistery, may at one time or other be more evidently knowne to all the world, that though they lose their lives, yet their fames may live in everlasting memory: for thinkes my deare Cleanthes and Poly­dore that I beleeve this accusation? no, no, my heart is as free from any such suspici­on, as your hands and hearts I know were farre from doing a deede so misbecoming you, and may your soules take as much comfort after death, as mine is farre from thinking any harme in you. These words were spoken by him so affectionately, that it mov'd all his hearers to pitty and com­passion, but the gentlemen with undaunted hearts, testifying that his thoughts did not deceive him, thanked him for his good opinion of them, nothing doubting but time would make it more cleare to bee a truth infallible. And therewith they went to take their last leaves of their dead mistresses, and therefore approaching neere the beere, & discovering their faces (which death could not rob of those innate perfe­ctions, that liberall nature had bestowed [Page 139] on them in their births, Cleanthes (while Polydore did the like to Florella) tooke his farewell of his senselesse Callanthia in these laments.

Could that dead tongue of thine, (O lovely corpes of my once deare Callan­thia) relate the story of thine owne destru­ction I know it would pronounce mee as guiltlesse of thy death, as thou in death art beautifull, but since it hath so pleased the Gods, that those pleasing oracles are si­lenc't, by whose mischievous hands I know not, let thy soule freely pardon thy Clean­thes, for leaving thee alone when this wretched deede was done, which else my presence might have prevented, and there­fore have the Gods laid this just plague up-mee, and I acknowledge my selfe, worthi­ly to indure this shame for such a negli­gence. Yet I beseech thee by those chaste kisses that oft have past betweene us, by those firme troth-plights, which have un­feignedly beene registred in the bookes of our true hearts, pardon mee this fault, that when our two soules shall meete in the happy shade of faire Elysium, mine may not be chidden away from thine, but wee [Page 140] may with eternity of joy, renew those loves never to have ending there, which here are abnoxious to so many casualties, that wee may sit together hand in hand, and with a fulnesse of joy, recount the laborinth of our haplesse love. In the meane time, O give mee leave to dew thy cold hands, with these warme drops of love, the onely tri­bute of my dying constancy, and there­with he pull'd of her gloves, and putting her hands to his eies moistned thē with his true teares, and thus proceeded: now may you close your selves in peace my happy eyes, having imbalm'd those precious hands of hers, that inrich't every thing that touch't her: and you pale lips of my Callanthia, O give me leave to kisse you, and though I expect not the like comfort from you, that I was wont to have, when (like a bold theefe) I have stolen that odo­riferous breath, silently creeping through your ruby doores, whilst mine eyes were gazing in hers, to see if they perceived me, yet let mee take of you the last kisse that I am likely ever to take from you; and therewith laying his lippes to hers, hee might sensibly perceive the warme breath [Page 141] come stealing forth, whereat not a little a­mazed, hee felt againe, and still hee felt it more fresh and warme, therefore calling suddainely to old Clidamas, hee bade try if he could feele nothing.

By this time the charme being remov'd, the vitall spirits became to get the mastry over drowsie sleepe, and she began to open the faire windowes of her eyes: when loo­king round about her, not knowing where she was, or how she came thither, seeing her father by her almost distracted with a­mazement, and her lover standing bound before her, and herselfe lying dead, so the wonder had almost made her to dye in earnest, that was before but dead in shew.

You may better imagine (gentle reader) then I can any way expresse the overflow of joy, that was then on all sides, but stil the wonder remained, when the gentle­women being asked, how shee came into that case? could answer nothing, but that on such a day, a servant of Cleanthes and Polydore brought to either of them a paire of gloves, which they had no sooner put on, but they fell asleepe, but what hapned [Page 142] since, they knew not, this was as strange as the rest to the two gentlemen, neither could they imagine who it should be, that should deliver such a present in their names, yet by her wordes gathering that the sleeping power lay in the gloves, they went and pull'd off the gloves from the hands of Flo­rella, which was no sooner done, but shee also awaked, to the no little comfort of the father and the lovers, and the won­derfull amazement of all the behol­ders.

This suddaine accident hapning so con­trary to their expectation, wrought as strange an effect in Hormisda and Polipus, for seeing the exceeding affection, and ex­treamity of joy these lovers welcomed one another with, as if they had been raised in­deed from death to life, they presently tur­ned from their malicions purposes, not on­ly resolutely determining never to use any more waies to hinder their happinesse, but also angry with themselves for having done such a deed, as denied them any part in this generallity of joy, and therefore that they might testifie their penitence, by an open cnofession of so open a crime, they [Page 143] came before them vpon the scaffold, and discovered themselves, and earnestly intrea­ted their pardons, truly discovering the whole course of their proceedings, desiring them, that as they themselves had tasted the effects of love, they would so consider the like in them, and judge of them with what lenity and charitie they could, this newes coming to the governours eare, who pre­sently coming to the place, and hearing the story related againe, set the two gentle­men at liberty, and committed Hormisda and Polipus, and the mischeivous Audria­na to close prison, till it should bee knowne what should further bee done with them.

These things being finished, Clidamas with his lovely company returned home, and as soone as the appointed day came, the two couples consumated their joyes in a happy marriage, all the day was spent in variety of delight and pleasure, and the most part also of the night, which being ended, every one prepared to bed-ward, when presently they were stayed by a gal­lant sound of cornets, but we must returne a while to our Sicilians on the sea.

[Page 144]So long they sailed, till they arriued at Sicily, not long before this marriage, they went presently to the governour, and shew­ing their letters, they were according as their dignitie required, entertained with him, they stayed till they had learned as much as they desired, wherefore hearing their father lived, and their sisters were shortly to bee married to such worthy men, they determined to reveale them­selves at the wedding in some gratefull manner, for which purpose they thought a masque to bee the fittest meanes, and there­fore discovering to the governour what they were, and their whole determination, they requested him to furnish them with gentlemen fit for such a businesse, which hee both for their owne sakes, whome by this little acquaintance hee began to affect, as also for the expresse commandement of the king to use them nobly, as also for his own liking of the plot performed according­ly.

In the meane time, divers firme reports had beene brought to the governour, by the keepers of the prison, that Hormisda and Polipus were wonderfull penitent for [Page 145] their former offences, never ceasing night and day to punish themselves, with absti­nence and teares, so that it was wonderfull to see those men, that were but a little be­fore, so obdurate in wickednesse, to be now so penitent for their obduratenesse. These newes made the Governor much compas­sionate them, and considering that their fact, howsoever heinous, could not in law finde with death, and willing to nourish vertue in so good beginnings, and if it might bee, to beget a friendship betweene them and the other, hee thought it would not be amisse, to prefer them to be actours in the masque, as knowing them to be men not unskilfull in such qualities, and there­fore first revealing his intents to the bro­thers, who readily consented to it, he sent for them, and told them of his determina­tion, which they with a multitude of thāke embraced, as a most gracious favour.

Every thing being prepared for the pur­pose, they came into the bride-house, with a noise of cornets in this maner. First ente­red, bearing torches four water-nimphs in long garments of blue silk, fringed with sil­ver, & wrought about the borders with green weeds growing in the water, after the [Page 146] followed Triton, in a garment of silver­plate, wrought like unto fishes scales, his ba­ses were of blue taffata powdered with sco­lap-shells, on his head he wore a cap made after the fashion of a scolap-shell, the rest whereof was a dolphin, bearing the great musition Arion on his back, to shew that fish hath delight in musick, in his hand he carri­ed a trumpet, made of a rams-horn, after him came a set of cornets, apparelled in scales, & blue silke bases, after them more torch-bea­rers like the former, after them two pages, at­tired in watchet sattin, curiously embroide­red with gold and pearles, upon their legs, buskins of white spanish leather, spotted with gold, and tied together with white ri­band, between them they bore a little table, wherin was curiously painted the whole sto­ry of the two gentlemen, from their ship­wrack, to their returne to Spain from Tunis, that which went before as their stealing by Pirats they left out, least the thing might be too soone knowne, and the fulnesse of joy might bee anticipated, after them followed Neptune in a garment of sea-green, curiously set with rubies and diamonds, so that they seemed like the shining of the start, when one beholds them in the water, the skirts of his [Page 147] garment was embroidered with white, pret­tily resembling the foame which the sea makes, whē it meets with the resisting shore, upon his head hoe wore a silver crescent, to shew his obedience to that planet, on his shoulder, he bare his tridēt of silver, set with saphires and jaspires, and others gems of the the like value, on either side of him came two gentlemen, alike attired in crimson vel­vet cunningly embroidered with blue silke, in the fashion of a net, and here and there in­termixed with little fishes, in which the workman had shewed such skill, that as the garment moved, the fishes seemed to dance and lea pin the net, shewing the wearers to be gallant fishermen, and posing the beholders, to judge whether the richnes of the robe, or the excellency of the worke were to be pre­fered, after them followed two sea-gods, in garments of skie-coloured sattin, embroide­red with silver and pearl, last of all followed foure torch-bearers like the former, in this maner they came into the roome, where the Pages delivering up their tablet to the brides The masquers prepared themselves for the first measure, which was performed in most exquisite maner to the sound of cornets, that being done certaine loose dances passed be­tweene [Page 148] the masquers and the gentlewomen, and they being finished, they addrest them­selves to the second measures, at the end whereof, sorting themselves as they were at their entrance, Triton spake in this manner.

All this while Clidamas at musing on the maner of this story, entertaining thoughts of his lost sons, hee knew it was not impossible for the Gods to preserve them, & the words of the speech lively pointed out their histo­ry, only their country danted him, but that he thought might be a trick of poetry to say one thing and meane another, yet would he not give too much to his fancy, least proving contrary, it might prove to his greater grief, and perceiving Triton to have finished with that request, he thus returned his answer,

To answer you in your owne Poetical straine, (trust me gentle Triton) is more then my tired braine can performe, such fancies rather fits young heads, then such frostbitten trees as I am, but yet not to send you away without your answer, thus in plain dunsta­ble prose I give my verdit, that if the gentle­mēs father be here in presence (as you say he is) they do not only deserve no reproof, but also commendations, in choosing a time to reveale themselves in, which will make the fulnesse of joy the more, by how much the company of participators will be greater.

[Page 150]This judgment given, they all forthwith unmask't themselves, and Hormisda (who had with his vizar put off Neptune) taking the two gentlemen in his hands, came with them before old Clidamas, and kneeling be­fore him, spake in his owne person thus.

I cannot blame you to wonder to see us, that were but a little before your deadly e­nemies, so rudely to presse into your pre­sence, but we trust that as our penitent teares have made our peace in heaven with those powers above, so this gift which wee here present to you, will beget a friendly league of amity betweene us, that were once such mortall foes. Know then that Italy is turn'd to Sicily, and these two Italian gentlemen, are become to be Martuvio and Roderigo, the two lost sons of Sicilian Clidamas, stolen in their nonage by Pyrats, and since passing such fortunes, as they themselves can better then I relate unto you, and therefore if you meane to stand to your owne judgment, it is your part to welcome, as their wisedome in so fit a time electing deserveth.

The good old man hearing this, and per­ceiving plainly, that his former thoughts proved true prophets of what ensued, he a­rose presently & running to them, he caught [Page 115] them about the neckes, crying out are yee come, more he would have spoke, but his overflowing joy, breaking into whole flouds of teares, stopped his utterance, long it was ere hee revived out of this extasie, at last re­membring himself, and giving them his bles­sing, hee turned to Hormisda and Polipus, greatly rejoycing at their good conversion, & thanking them for so gracious a present, & entertaining them most willingly into his friendship, whil'st in the meane time the new come strangers, were welcomed of their si­sters and their new brothers in law, and by course of the whole assembly, a firme league also of never dying amity was concluded betwixt the bridegromes and the two con­verted brothers,

All this joy was poison to the envious Audriana, who seeing the good successe of her enemies, and that her nephews also had forsaken her, and lothed her for her wicked­nesse, malice and envious spleen so wrought on her, that of meere spite she died, her death was not only not lamented of any, but also came as a happy newes to the whole com­pany, especially to her nephewes, as not knowing the strength of their new resoluti­on, if it should bee battred by the force of [Page 152] her inveterate malice.

In this fashion they lived together some­time, til their urgēt affairs called Martuvio and Roderigo to keep promise with the king, taking leave of father, brothers, and sisters, and returning into Spaine, where they lived in much renowne and glory. Whil'st old Clidamas lived among his sons and daugh­ters, till he saw himselfe made a grandfather by them, and then paying his due debt to extorting nature, he left many weeping eies for his death, and was in much honour bu­ried by his sons in law, who long after with their faire wives, lived in joy and felicity, making of an involved laborinth of growing love, a most happy and fortunate con­clusion.