THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA, WRITTEN BY SIR PHILIPPE SIDNEI.

LONDON Printed by Iohn Windet for william Ponsonbie. Anno Domini, 1590.

TO MY DEARE LADIE AND SISTER, THE CONVN­TESSE OF PEMBROKE.

HEre now haue you (most deare, and most worthy to be most deare Lady) this idle worke of mine: which I fear (like the Spiders webbe) will be thought fitter to be swept away, then worn to any other purpose. For my part, in ve­ry trueth (as the cruell fathers among the Greekes, were woont to doo to the babes they would not foster) I could well find in my harte, to cast out in some desert of for­getfulnes this child, which I am loath to[Page] father. But you desired me to doo it, and your desire, to my hart is an absolute com­mandement. Now, it is done onelie for you, onely to you: if you keepe it to your selfe, or to such friendes, who will weigh errors in the ballaunce of good will, I hope, for the fathers sake, it will be par­doned, perchance made much of, though in it selfe it haue deformities. For in­deede, for seuerer eyes it is not, being but a trifle, and that triflinglie handled. Your deare selfe can best witnes the maner, be­ing done in loose sheetes of paper, most of it in your presence, the rest, by sheetes, sent vnto you, as fast as they were done. In summe, a young head, not so well stayed as I would it were, (and shall be when God will) hauing many many fancies begot­ten in it, if it had not ben in some way de­liuered, would haue growen a monster, & more sorie might I be that they came in,[Page] then that they gat out. But his chiefe safetie, shalbe the not walking abroad; & his chiefe protection, the bearing the liue­rye of your name; which (if much much goodwill do not deceaue me) is worthy to be a sāctuary for a greater offender. This say I, because I knowe the vertue so; and this say I, because it may be euer so; or to say better, because it will be euer so. Read it then at your idle tymes, and the follyes your good iudgement wil finde in it, blame not, but laugh at. And so, looking for no better stuffe, then, as in an Haberdashers shoppe, glasses, or feathers, you will conti­nue to loue the writer, who doth exceding­lie loue you; and most most hartelie praies you may long liue, to be a principall orna­ment to the familie of the Sidneis.

Your louing Brother Philip Sidnei.
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THe diuision and summing of the Chapters was not of Sir Philip Sidneis dooing, but aduentured by the ouer-seer of the print, for the more ease of the Readers. He therfore submits himselfe to their iudgement, and if his labour answere not the worthi­nes of the booke, desireth pardon for it. As also if any defecct be found in the Eclogues, which although they were of Sir Phillip Sidneis writing, yet were they not perused by him, but left till the worke had bene fini­shed, that then choise should haue bene made, which should haue bene taken, and in what manner brought in. At this time they haue bene chosen and disposed as the ouer-seer thought best.

THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA, WRIT­TEN BY SIR PHILIP SIDNEI. THE FIRST BOOKE.

CHAP. 1.

1 The sheperdish complaints of the absented louers Strephon and Claius. 2 The second shipwrack of Pyrocles and Musidorus. 3 Their strange sauing, 4 enterview, and parting.

IT was in the time argument key no. 1 that the earth be­gins to put on her new aparrel against the approch of her louer, and that the Sun rūning a most euēcourse becums an indifferent arbi­ter betweene the night and the day; when the hopelesse shepheard Strephon was come to the sandes, which lie against the Island of Cithera; where viewing the place with a heauy kinde[Page] of delight, and sometimes casting his eyes to the Ile­ward, he called his friendly riuall, the pastor Claius vnto him, and fetting first downe in his darkened counte­nance a dolefull copie of what he would speake: O my Claius, said he, hether we are now come to pay the rent, for which we are so called vnto by ouer-busie Remem­brance, Remembrance, restlesse Remembrance, which claymes not onely this dutie of vs, but for it will haue vs forget our selues. I pray you when wee were amid our flocke, and that of other shepeheardes some were running after their sheep strayed beyond their bounds, some delighting their eyes with seeing them nibble vp­on the short and sweete grasse, some medicining their sicke ewes, some setting a bell for an enfigne of a sheep­ish squadron, some with more leasure inuenting new games of exercising their bodies & sporting their wits: did Remembrance graunt vs any holiday, eyther for pastime or deuotion, nay either for necessary foode or naturall rest? but that still it forced our thoughts to worke vpō this place, where we last (alas that the word last should so long last) did gaze our eyes vpon her e­uer florishing beautie: did it not still crie within vs? Ah you base minded wretches, are your thoughts so deep­ly bemired in the trade of ordinary worldlings, as for respect of gaine some paultry wooll may yeeld you, to let so much time passe without knowing perfectly her estate, especially in so troublesome a season? to leaue that shore vnsaluted, from whence you may see to the Island where she dwelleth? to leaue those steps vnkis­sed wherein Vrania printed the farewell of all beautie? Wel then, Remembraunce commaunded, we obeyed, and here we finde, that as our remembrance came euer[Page 2] cloathed vnto vs in the forme of this place, so this place giues newe heate to the feauer of our languishing re­membrance. Yonder my Claius, Vrania lighted, the ve­rie horse (me thought) bewayled to be so disburdned: and as for thee, poore Claius, when thou wentst to help her downe, I saw reuerence and desire so deuide thee, that thou didst at one instant both blushe and quake, and in stead of bearing her, weart ready to fall downe thy selfe. There shee sate, vouchsafing my cloake (then most gorgeous) vnder her: at yonder rising of the ground she turned her selfe, looking backe toward her woonted abode, and because of her parting bearing much sorrow in hir eyes, the lightsomnes whereof had yet so naturall a cherefulnesse, as it made euen sorrow seeme to smile; at that turning she spake vnto vs all, ope­ning the cherrie of hir lips, & Lord how greedily mine eares did feed vpon the sweete words she vttered? And here she laide her hand ouer thine eyes, when shee saw the teares springing in them, as if she would conceale them from other, and yet her selfe feele some of thy sor­row: But woe is me, yonder, yonder, did she put her foote into the boate, at that instant as it were deuiding her heauenly beautie, betweene the Earth and the Sea. But when she was imbarked, did you not marke how the windes whistled, & the seas daunst for ioy, how the failes did swel with pride, and all because they had Vra­nia? O Vrania, blessed be thou Vrania, the sweetest fairenesse and fairest sweetnesse: with that worde his voice brake so with sobbing, that he could say no further; and Claius thus answered. Alas my Strephon (said he) what needes this skore to recken vp onely our losses? What doubt is there, but that the light of this place doth call[Page] our thoughtes to appeare at the court of affection, held by that racking steward, Remembrance? Aswell may sheepe forget to feare when they spie woolues, as wee can misse such fancies, when wee see any place made happie by her treading. Who can choose that saw her but thinke where she stayed, where she walkt, where she turned, where she spoke? But what is all this? truely no more, but as this place serued vs to thinke of those thinges, so those thinges serue as places to call to me­morie more excellent matters. No, no, let vs thinke with consideration, and consider with acknowledging, and acknowledge with admiration, and admire with loue, and loue with joy in the midst of all woes: let vs in such sorte thinke, I say, that our poore eyes were so inriched as to behold, and our low hearts so exalted as to loue, a maide, who is such, that as the greatest thing the world can shewe, is her beautie, so the least thing that may be praysed in her, is her beautie. Certainely as her eye-lids are more pleasant to behold, then two white kiddes climing vp a faire tree, and browsing on his tendrest brauches, and yet are nothing, compared to the day-shining starres contayned in them; and as her breath is more sweete then a gentle South-west wind, which comes creeping ouer flowrie fieldes and shaddowed waters in the extreeme heate of summer, and yet is nothing, compared to the hony flowing speach that breath doth carrie: no more all that our eyes can see of her (though when they haue seene her, what else they shall euer see is but drie stuble after clo­uers grasse) is to bee matched with the flocke of vn­speakeable vertues laid vp delightfully in that best builded folde. But in deede as wee can better consider the[Page 3] sunnes beautie, by marking how he guildes these wa­ters, and mountaines them by looking vpon his owne face, too glorious for our weake eyes: so it may be our conceits (not able to beare her sun-stayning excellen­cie) will better way it by her workes vpon some mea­ner subiect employed. And alas, who can better wit­nesse that then we, whose experience is grounded vp­on feeling? hath not the onely loue of her made vs (be­ing silly ignorant shepheards) raise vp our thoughts aboue the ordinary leuell of the worlde, so as great clearkes do not disdaine our conference? hath not the desire to seeme worthie in her eyes made vs when o­thers were sleeping, to sit vewing the course of hea­uens? when others were running at base, to runne o­uer learned writings? when other marke their sheepe, we to marke our selues? hath not shee throwne reason vpon our desires, and, as it were giuen eyes vnto Cupid? hath in any, but in her, loue-fellowship maintained friendship betweene riuals, and beautie taught the be­holders chastitie? He was going on with his praises, but Strephon bad him stay, & looke: & so they both per­ceaued a thing which floted drawing nearer and nearer to the banke; but rather by the fauourable working of the Sea, then by any selfe industrie. They doubted a while what it should be; till it was cast vp euen hard be­fore thē: at which time they fully saw that it was a man: Wherupon running for pitie sake vnto him, they found his hands (as it should appeare, constanter frends to his life then his memorie) fast griping vpon the edge of a square small coffer, which lay all vnder his breast: els in him selfe no shew of life, so as the boord seemed to bee but a beere to carry him a land to his Sepulchre. So[Page] drew they vp a young man of so goodly shape, and well pleasing fauour, that one would think death had in him a louely countenance; and, that though he were naked, nakednes was to him an apparrell. That sight increased their compassion, and their compassion called vp their care; so that lifting his feete aboue his head, making a great deale of salt water to come out of his mouth, they layd him vpon some of their garments, and fell to rub and chase him, till they brought him to recouer both breath the seruant, & warmth the companion of liuing. At length, opening his eyes, he gaue a great groane, (a dolefull note but a pleasaunt dittie) for by that, they found not onely life, but strength of life in him. They therefore continued on their charitable office, vntil (his spirits being well returned,) hee (without so much as thanking them for their paines) gate vp, and looking round about to the vttermost lymittes of his sight, and crying vpon the name of Pyrocles, nor seeing nor hea­ring cause of comfort: what (said he) and shall Musidorus liue after Pyrocles? argument key no. 2 therewithall hee offered wilfully to cast destruction & himselfe againe into the sea: a strange sight to the shepheards; to whom it seemed, that before being in apparance dead had yet saued his life, and now comming to his life, shoulde be a cause to procure his death; but they ranne vnto him, and pulling him backe, (then too feeble for them) by force stickled that vnnatu­ral fray. I pray you (said he) honest men, what such right haue you in me, as not to suffer me to doe with my self what I list? and what pollicie haue you to bestow a be­nefite where it is counted an iniury? They hearing him speake in Greek (which was their naturall language) be­came the more tender hearted towards him; and consi­dering[Page 4] by his calling and looking, that the losse ofsome deare friend was great cause of his sorow; told him they were poore men that were bound by course of huma­nitie to preuent so great a mischiefe; and that they wisht him, if opinion of some bodies perishing bred such de­sperate anguish in him, that he should be comforted by his owne proofe, who had lately escaped as apparant danger as any might be. No, no (said hee) it is not for me to attend so high a blissefulnesse: but since you take care of mee, I pray you finde meanes that some Barke may be prouided, that will goe out of the hauen, that if it be possible we may finde the body farre farre too pre­cious a foode for fishes: and for the hire (said he) I haue within this casket, of value sufficient to content them. Claius presently went to a Fisherman, & hauing agreed with him, and prouided some apparrell for the naked stranger, he imbarked, and the Shepheards with him: and were no sooner gone beyond the mouth of the ha­uen, but that some way into the sea they might discerne (as it were) a stayne of the waters colour, and by times some sparkes and smoke mounting thereout. But the young man no sooner saw it, but that beating his brest, he cried, that there was the beginning of his ruine, in­treating them to bend their course as neere vnto it as they could: telling, how that smoake was but a small relique of a great fire, which had driuē both him & his friend rather to committee themselues to the cold mer­cie of the sea, then to abide the hote crueltie of the fire: and that therefore, though they both had abandoned the ship, that he was (if any where) in that course to be met withall. They steared therefore as neere thether­ward as they could: but when they came so neere as[Page] their eies were ful masters of the object, they saw a sight full of piteous strangenes: a ship, or rather the carkas of the shippe, or rather some few bones of the carkas, hul­ling there, part broken, part burned, part drowned: death hauing vsed more then one dart to that destructi­on. About it floted great store of very rich thinges, and many chestes which might promise no lesse. And a­midst the precious things were a number of dead bo­dies, which likewise did not onely testifie both elemēts violence, but that the chiefe violence was growen of humane inhumanitie: for their bodies were ful of grisly wounds, & their bloud had (as it were) filled the wrine­kles of the seas visage: which it seemed the sea woulde not wash away, that it might witnes it is not alwaies his fault, when we condemne his crueltie: in summe, a de­feate, where the conquered kept both field and spoile: a shipwrack without storme or ill footing: and a wast of fire in the midst of water.

argument key no. 3 But a litle way off they saw the mast, whose proude height now lay along; like a widdow hauing lost her make of whom she held her honor: but vpon the mast they saw a yong man (at least if he were a man) bearing shew of about 18. yeares of age, who fate (as on hors­back) hauing nothing vpon him but his shirt, which be­ing wrought with blew silk & gold; had a kind of resem­blance to the sea: on which the sun (then neare his We­sterne home) did shoote some of his beames. His haire (which the young men of Greece vsed to weare very long) was stirred vp & down with the wind, which see­med to haue a sport to play with it, as the sea had to kisse his feet; himselfe full of admirable beautie, set foorth by the strangenes both of his seate & gesture: for, holding[Page 5] his head vp full of vnmoued maiestie, he held a sworde alost with his faire arme, which often he waued about his crowne as though he would threaten the world in that extremitie. But the fishermen, when they came so neere him, that it was time to throwe out a rope, by which hold they might draw him, their simplicity bred such amasement, & their amasement such a superstitiō, that (assuredly thinking it was some God begotten be­tweene Neptune and Venus, that had made all this terri­ble slaughter) as they went vnder sayle by him, held vp their hands, and made their prayers. Which when Mu­sidorus sawe, though he were almost as much rauished with ioy, as they with astonishment, he lept to the Ma­riner, and tooke the rope out of his hande and (saying, doest thou liue, and arte well? who answered, thou canst tell best, since most of my well beyng standes in thee,) threwe it out, but alreadie the shippe was past beyond Pyrocles: and therefore Musidorus could doo no more but perswade the Mariners to cast about a­gaine, assuring them that hee was but a man, although of most diuine excellencies, and promising great re­wardes for their paine.

And now they were alreadie come vpon the staies; argument key no. 4 when one of the saylers descried a Galley which came with sayles and oares directlie in the chase of them; and streight perceaued it was a well knowne Pirate, who hunted not onely for goodes but for bodies of menne, which hee imployed eyther to bee his Galley slaues, or to sell at the best market. Which when the Maister vnderstood, he commaunded forthwith to set on all the canuasse they could, and flie homeward, lea­uing in that sort poore Pyrocles so neere to be reskewed.[Page] But what did not Musidorus say? what did he not offer to perswade them to venture the fight? But feare standing at the gates of their eares, put back all per­swasions: so that hee had nothing to accompanie Pyrocles, but his eyes; nor to succour him, but his wi­shes. Therefore praying for him, and casting a long look that way he saw the Galley leaue the pursuite of them, & turne to take vp the spoiles of the other wrack: and lastly he might well see them list vp the yong man; and alas (said he to himselfe) deere Pyrocles shall that bodie of thine be enchayned? shall those victorious handes of thine be commaunded to base offices? shall vertue become a slaue to those that be slaues to vici­ousnes? Alas, better had it bene thou hadst ended no­bly thy noble daies: what death is so euill as vnworthy seruitude? But that opinion soone ceased when he saw the gallie setting vpon an other ship, which held long and strong fight with her: for then he began a fresh to feare the life of his friende, and to wish well to the Pi­rates whome before he hated, least in their ruyne hee might perish. But the fishermen made such speed into the hauen, that they absented his eyes from beholding the issue: where being entred, he could procure nei­ther them nor any other as then to put themselues into the sea: so that beyng as full of sorrow for being vn­able to doe anything, as voide of counsell how to doe anything, besides, that sicknesse grew something vpon him, the honest shepheards Strephon and Claius (who being themselues true friends, did the more perfectly iudge the iustnesse of his sorrowe) aduise him, that he should mitigate somwhat of his woe, since he had got­ten an amendment in fortune, being come from assu­red[Page 6] persuasion of his death, to haue no cause to dis­paire of his life: as one that had lamented the death of his sheepe, should after know they were but strayed, would receiue pleasure though readily hee knew not where to finde them.

CHAP. 2.

1 The pastors comfortes to the wracked Musidorus. 2 His passage into Arcadia. The descriptions of 3 Laconia, 4 Arcadia, Kalanders 5 person, 6 house, and 7 enter­tainement to Musidorus, now called Palladius. His 8 sicknes, recouery, 9 and perfe­ctions.

NOw sir (saide they) thus for our selues it is. Wee are in profession argument key no. 1 but shepheards, and in this coun­trie of Laconia little better then strangers, and therefore neither in skill, nor habilitie of power greatly to stead you. But what we can pre­sent vnto you is this: Arcadia, of which countrie wee are, is but a little way hence, and euen vpon the next confines.

There dwelleth a Gentleman, by name Kalander, argument key no. 5 who vouchsafeth much fauour vnto vs: A man who for his hospitalitie is so much haunted, that no newes sturre, but comes to his eares; for his vpright dealing so beloued of his neighbours, that he hath many euer rea­die to doe him their vttermost seruice, and by the great good will our Prince beares him, may soone obtaine the vse of his name and credit, which hath a principall[Page] swaie, not only in his owne Arcadia but in al these coū ­tries of Peloponnesus: and (which is worth all) all these things giue him not so much power, as his nature giues him will to benefit: so that it seemes no Musicke is so sweet to his eare as deserued thankes. To him we will bring you, & there you may recouer againe your helth, without which you cānot be able to make any diligent search for your friend: and therefore but in that respect, you must labour for it. Besides, we are sure the cōfort of curtesie, & ease of wise counsell shall not be wanting.

argument key no. 2 Musidorus (who besides he was meerly vnacquainted in the coūtrie had his wits astonished with sorow) gaue easie consent to that, frō which he saw no reason to dis­agree: & therefore (defraying the Mariners with a ring bestowed vpon thē) they tooke their iourney together through Laconia; Clauis & Strephon by course carying his chest for him, Musidorus only bearing in his coūtenance euidēt marks of a sorowfulmind supported with a weak bodie, which they perceiuing, & knowing that the vio­lence of sorow is not at the first to be striuē withal: (be­ing like a mighty beast, soner tamed with folowing, thā ouerthrowē by withstāding) they gaue way vnto it for that day & the next; neuer troubling him, either with asking questions, or finding fault with his melācholie, but rather fitting to his dolor dolorous discourses of their own & other folks misfortunes. Which speeches, thogh they had not a liuely entrāce to his sēces shut vp in sorow, yet like one half asleep, he toke hold of much of the matters spoken vnto him, so as a man may say, ere sorow was aware, they made his thoughts beare away something els beside his own sorow, which wrought so in him, that at lēgth he grew cōtent to mark their spee­ches, then to maruel at such wit in shepheardes, after to[Page 7] like their company, & lastly to vouchsafe conferēce: so that the 3 day after, in the time that the morning did strow roses & violets in the heauenly floore against the cōming of the Sun, the nightingales (striuing one with the other which coulde in most dainty variety recount their wrong-caused sorow) made thē put of their sleep, & rising frō vnder a tree (which that night had bin their pauiliō) they went on their iorney, which by & by wel­comed Musidorus eyes (wearied with the wasted soile of Laconia) with delightfull prospects. There were hilles argument key no. 4 which garnished their proud heights with stately treēs: hūble valleis, whose base estate semed cōforted with re­freshing of filuer riuers: medows, enameld with al sorts of ey-pleasing floures: thickets, which being lined with most pleasāt shade, were witnessed so to by the chereful depositiō of many wel-tuned birds: each pasture stored with sheep feeding with fober security, while the prety lābs with bleting oratory craued the dams cōfort: here a shepheards boy piping, as though he should neuer be old: there a yong shepherdesse knitting, and withall sin­ging, & it seemed that her voice cōforted her hands to work, & her hāds kept time to her voices musick. As for the houses of the coūtry (for many houses came vnder their eye) they were all scattered, no two being one by th' other, & yet not so far off as that it barred mutual suc­cour: a shew, as it were, of an accōpanable solitarines, & of a ciuil wildnes. I pray you (said Musidorus, then first vnsealing his long silent lips) what coūtries be these we passe through, which are so diuers in shew, the one wā ­ting no store, th'other hauing no store but of want.

The country (answered Claius) where you were cast a argument key no. 3 shore, & now are past through, is Laconia, not so poore by the barrennes of the soyle (though in it selfe not[Page] passing fertill) as by a ciuill warre, which being these two yeares within the bowels of that estate, betweene the gentlemen & the peasants (by them named Helots) hath in this sorte as it were disfigured the face of nature, and made it so vnhospitall as now you haue found it: the townes neither of the one side nor the other, wil­lingly opening their gates to strangers, nor strangers willingly entring for feare of being mistaken.

argument key no. 4 But this countrie (where now you set your foote) is Arcadia: and euen harde by is the house of Kalander whether we lead you: this countrie being thus decked with peace, and (the childe of peace) good husbandrie. These houses you see so scattered are of men, as we two are, that liue vpon the commoditie of their sheepe: and therefore in the diuision of the Arcadian estate are ter­med shepheards; a happie people, wanting litle, because they desire not much. What cause then, said Musidorus, made you venter to leaue this sweete life, and put your selfe in yonder vnpleasant and dangerous realme? Gar­ded with pouertie (answered Strephon) & guided with loue: But now (said Claius) since it hath pleased you to aske any thing of vs whose basenes is such as the very knowledge is darknes: geue vs leaue to know somthing of you, & of the young man you so much lament, that at least we may be the better instructed to enforme Ka­lander, and he the better know how to proportion his entertainment. Musidorus (according to the agreement betweene Pyrocles and him to alter their names) answe­red, that he called himself Palladius, and his friend Dai­phantus; but till I haue him againe (said he) I am in deed nothing: and therefore my storie is of nothing, his en­tertainement (since so good a man he is) cannot be so[Page 8] lowe as I account my estate: and in summe, the summe of all his curtesie may be to helpe me by some meanes to seeke my frend.

They perceiued he was not willing to open him­selfe further, and therefore without further questioning argument key no. 6 brought him to the house: about which they might see (with fitte consideration both of the ayre, the prospect, and the nature of the ground) all such necessaire addi­tions to a great house, as might well shewe, Kalander knew that prouision is the foundation of hospitalitie, and thrist the fewell of magnificence. The house it selfe was built of faire and strong stone, not affecting so much any extraordinarie kinde of finenes, as an hono­rable representing of a firme statelines. The lightes, doores and staires, rather directed to the vse of the guest, then to the eye of the Artificer: and yet as the one cheefly heeded, so the other not neglected; each place handsome without curiositie, and homely with­out lothsomnes: not so daintie as not to be trode on, nor yet slubberd vp with good felowshippe: all more lasting then beautifull, but that the consideration of the exceeding lastingneffe made the eye beleeue it was ex­ceeding beautifull. The seruants not so many in num­ber, as cleanlie in apparell, and feruiceable in behaui­our, testifying euen in their countenaunces, that their maister tooke aswell care to be serued, as of thē that did serue. One of them was forth-with readie to welcome the shepheards; as men, who though they were poore, their maister greatly fauoured: and vnderstanding by them; that the young man with them was to be much accounted of, for that they had seene tokens of more then common greatnes, how so euernow eclipsed with[Page] fortune: He ranne to his master, who came presentlie foorth, and pleasantly welcomming the shepheardes, but especially applying him to Musidorus, Strephon pri­uately told him all what he knew of him, and particu­larly that hee found this stranger was loath to be kno­wen.

No said Kalander (speaking alowd) I am no herald argument key no. 7 to enquire of mens pedegrees, it sufficeth me if I know their vertues: which (if this young mans face be not a false witnes) doe better apparrell his minde, then you haue done his body. While hee was speaking, there came a boy in shew like a Merchants prentice, who ta­king Strephon by the sleeue, deliuered him a letter, writ­ten ioyntly both to him and Claius from Vrania: which they no sooner had read, but that with short leaue-ta­king of Kalander (who quickly ghest and smiled at the matter) and once againe (though hastely) recommen­ding the yong man vnto him, they went away, leauing Musidorus euen lothe to part with them, for the good conuersation he had of them, & obligation he accoun­ted himselfe tied in vnto them: and therefore, they de­liuering his chest vnto him, he opened it, and would haue presented thē with two very rich iewels, but they absolutelie refused them, telling him they were more then enough rewarded in the knowing of him, and without herkening vnto a replie (like men whose harts disdained all desires but one) gate speedely away, as if the letter had brought wings to make them flie. But by that fight Kalander soone iudged that his guest was of no meane calling; and therefore the more respectfullie entertaining him, Musidorus found his sicknes (which the fight, the sea, and late trauell had layd vpon him)[Page 9] grow greatly: so that fearing some suddaine accident, he deliuered the chest to Kalander; which was full of most pretious stones, gorgeously & cunningly set in di­uerse māners, desiring him he would keep those trisles, and if he died, he would bestow so much of it as was needfull, to finde out and redeeme a young man, na­ming himselfe Daiphantus, as then in the handes of La­conia pirates.

But Kalander seeing him saint more and more, with argument key no. 8 carefull speede conueyed him to the most cōmodious lodging in his house: where being possest with an ex­treeme burning feuer, he cōtinued some while with no great hope of life: but youth at length got the victorie of sicknesse, so that in six weekes the excellencie of his returned beautie was a credible embassadour of his health; to the great ioy of Kalander: who, as in this time he had by certaine friendes of his that dwelt neare the Sea in Messenia, set foorth a shippe and a galley to seeke and succour Daiphantus: so at home did hee omit no­thing which he thought might eyther prosite or grati­fie Palladius.

For hauing found in him (besides his bodily giftes argument key no. 9 beyond the degree of Admiration) by dayly discourses which he delighted him selfe to haue with him, a mind of most excellent composition (a pearcing witte quite voide of oftentation, high erected thoughts seated in a harte of courtesie, an eloquence as sweete in the vtte­ring, as slowe to come to the vttering, a behauiour so noble, as gaue a maiestie to aduersitie: and all in a man whose age could not be aboue one & twenty yeares.) The good old man was euen enamoured with a father­ly loue towards him; or rather became his seruaunt by[Page] the bondes such vertue laid vpon him; once hee ac­knowledged him selfe so to be, by the badge of dili­gent attendance.

CHAP. 3.

The 1 pictures of Kalanders dainty garden-house. His narra­tion of the 2 Arcadian estate, 3 the King, 4 the Queene, 5 their two daughters, and 6 their gardians, with their qualities, which is the ground of all this storie.

BVt Palladius hauing gotten his health, and onely staying there to be in place, where he might heare answere of the shippes set foorth, Kalander one afternoone led him abroad to a welarayed ground he had behind his house, which hee thought to shewe him before his going, as the place him selfe more then in any other de­lighted: the backeside of the house was neyther field, garden, nor orchard; or rather it was both fielde, gar­den, and orcharde: for as soone as the descending of the stayres had deliuered them downe, they came in­to a place cunninglie set with trees of the moste tast­pleasing fruites: but scatcelie they had taken that into their confideration, but that they were suddainely stept into a delicate greene, of each side of the greene a thic­ket bend, behinde the thickets againe newe beddes of flowers, which being vnder the trees, the trees were to them a Pauilion, and they to the trees a mosaical floore: so that it seemed that arte therein would needes be de­lightfull[Page 10] by counterfaiting his enemie error, and ma­king order in confusion.

In the middest of all the place, was a faire ponde,argument key no. 1 whose shaking christall was a perfect mirrour to all the other beauties, so that it bare shewe of two gardens; one in deede, the other in shaddowes: and in one of the thickets was a fine fountaine made thus. A naked Venus of white marble, wherein the grauer had vsed such cunning, that the naturall blew veines of the mar­ble were framed in fitte places, to set foorth the beauti­full veines of her bodie. At her brest she had her babe AEneas, who seemed (hauing begun to sucke) to leaue that, to looke vpon her sayre eyes, which smiled at the babes follie, the meane while the breast running. Hard by was a house of pleasure builte for a Sommer retiring place, whether Kalander leading him, he found a square roome full of delightfull pictures, made by the most excellent workeman of Greece. There was Diana when Actaeon sawe her bathing, in whose cheekes the painter had set such a colour, as was mixt betweene shame & disdaine: & one of her foolish Nymphes, who weeping, and withal lowring, one might see the work­man meant to set forth teares of anger. In another table was Atalanta; the posture of whose lims was so liuelie expressed, that if the eyes were the only iudges, as they be the onely seers, one would haue sworne the very pi­cture had runne. Besides many mo, as of Helena, Om­phale, Iole: but in none of them all beautie seemed to speake so much as in a large table, which contained a comely old man, with a lady of midle age, but of excel­lēt beautie; & more excellēt would haue bene deemed, but that there stood betweene thē a yong maid, whose[Page] wonderfulnesse tooke away all beautie from her, but that, which it might seeme shee gaue her backe againe by her very shadow. And such differēce being knowne that it did in deed counterfeit a person liuing, was there betweene her and al the other, though Goddesses, that it seemd the skill of the painter bestowed on the other new beautie, but that the beautie of her bestowed new skill of the painter. Though he thought inquisitiuenes an vncomely guest, he could not choose but aske who she was, that bearing shew of one being in deed, could with natural gifts go beyond the reach of inuentiō. Ka­lander answered, that it was made by Philoclea, the yon­ger daughter of his prince, who also with his wife were conteined in that Table: the painter meaning to repre­sent the present condition of the young Ladie, who stood watched by an ouer-curious eye of her parents: & that he would also haue drawne her eldest sister, este­med her match for beautie, in her shepheardish attire; but that the rude clown her gardiā would not suffer it: nether durst he aske leaue of the Prince for feare of sus­pitiō. Palladius perceaued that the matter was wrapt vp in some secrefie, and therefore would for modestie de­maund no further: but yet his countenance could not but with dumme Eloquence desire it: Which Kalander perceauing, well said he, my deere guest, I know your minde, and I will satisfie it: neyther will I doo it like a niggardly answerer, going no further then the boundes of the question, but I will discouer vnto you, aswell that wherein my knowledge is common with others, as that which by extraordinarie means is deliuered vn­to me:knowing so much in you, though not long ac­quainted, that I shall find your eares faithfull treasurers.[Page 11] So then sitting downe in two chaires, and sometimes casting his eye to the picture, he thus spake.

This countrie Arcadia among all the prouinces of argument key no. 2 Greece, hath euer beene had in singular reputation: partly for the sweetnesse of the ayre, and other natural benefies, but principally for the well tempered minds of the people, who (finding that the shining title of glorie so much affected by other nations, doth in deed helpe little to the happinesse of life) are the onely peo­ple, which as by their Iustice and prouidence geue nei­ther cause nor hope to their neyghbours to annoy them, so are they not sturred with false praise to trouble others quiet, thinking it a small reward for the wasting of their owne liues in rauening, that their posteritie should long after faie, they had done so. Euen the Mu­ses seeme to approue their good determinatiō, by cho­sing this countrie for their chiefe repairing place, & by bestowing their perfections so largely here, that the ve­ry shepheards haue their fancies lifted to so high con­ceits, as the learned of other nations are content both to borrow their names, and imitate their cunning.

Here dwelleth, and raigneth this Prince (whose pi­cture argument key no. 3 you see) by name Basilius, a Prince of sufficient skill to gouerne so quiet a countrie, where the good minds of the former princes had set down good lawes, and the well bringing vp of the people doth serue as a most sure bond to hold thē. But to be plaine with you, he excels in nothing so much, as in the zealous loue of his people, wherein he doth not only passe al his owne fore-goers, but as I thinke al the princes liuing. Wherof the cause is, that though he exceed not in the vertues which get admiration; as depth of wisdome, height of[Page] courage and largenesse of magnificence, yet is hee notable in those whiche stirre affection, as trueth of worde, meekenesse, courtefie, mercifulnesse, and li­beralitie.

argument key no. 4 He being already well striken in yeares, maried a young princes, named Gynecia, daughter to the king of Cyprus, of notable beautie, as by her picture you see: a woman of great wit, and in truth of more princely vertues, then her husband: of most vnspotted chasti­tie, but of so working a minde, and so vehement spi­rits, as a man may say, it was happie shee tooke a good course: for otherwise it would haue beene terrible.

argument key no. 5 Of these two are brought to the worlde two daugh­ters, so beyonde measure excellent in all the gifts allot­ted to reasonable creatures, that wee may thinke they were borne to shewe, that Nature is no stepmother to that sex, how much so euer some men (sharpe witted onely in euill speaking) haue sought to disgrace them. The elder is named Pamela; by many men not dee­med inferiour to her sister: for my part, when I marked them both, me thought there was (if at least such per­fections may receyue the worde of more) more sweet­nesse in Philoclea, but more maiestie in Pamela: mee thought loue plaide in Philocleas eyes, and threatned in Pamelas: me thought Philocleas beautie onely perswa­ded, but so perswaded as all harts must yeelde: Pame­las beautie vsed violence, and such violence as no hart could resist: and it seemes that such proportion is be­tweene their mindes; Philoclea so bashfull as though her excellences had stolne into her before shee was a­ware: so humble, that she will put all pride out of coun­tenance: in summe, such proceeding as will stirre hope,[Page 12] but teach hope good māners. Pamela of high thoughts, who auoides not pride with not knowing her excel­lencies, but by making that one of her excellencies to be voide of pride; her mothers wisdome, greatnesse, nobilitie, but (if I can ghesse aright) knit with a more constant temper. Now then, our Basilius being so pu­blickly happie as to be a Prince, and so happie in that happinesse as to be a beloued Prince, and so in his pri­uate blessed as to haue so excellent a wife, and so ouer­excellent children, hath of late taken a course which yet makes him more spoken of then all these blessings. For, hauing made a iourney to Delphos, and safely re­turned, within short space hee brake vp his court, and retired himselfe, his wife, and children into a certaine Forrest hereby, which hee calleth his desert, where in (besides a house appointed for stables and lodgings for certaine persons of meane calling, who do all house­hold seruices,) hee hath builded two fine lodges. In the one of them him selfe remaines with his younger daughter Philoclea, which was the cause they three were matched together in this picture, without hauing any other creature liuing in that lodge with him.

Which though it bee straunge, yet not so straunge,argument key no. 6 as the course he hath taken with the princesse Pamela, whom hee hath placed in the other lodge: but how thinke you accōpanied? truly with none other, but one Dametas, the most arrant doltish clowne, that I thinke euer was without the priuiledge of a bable, with his wife Miso, and daughter Mopsa, in whome no witt can deuise anie thing wherein they maie pleasure her, but to exercise her patience, and to serue for a foile of her perfections. This loutish clowne is such, that[Page] you neuer saw so ill fauourd a visar; his behaviour such, that he is beyond the degree of ridiculous; and for his apparrel, euen as I would wish him: Miso his wife, so handsome a beldame, that onely her face and her splay­soote haue made her accused for a witch; onely one good point she hath, that she obserues decorū, hauing a froward mind in a wretched body. Betweene these two personages (who neuer agreed in any humor, butin dis­agreeing) is issued forth mistresse Mopsa, a fitte woman to participate of both their perfections: but because a pleasant fellow of my acquaintance set forth her praises in verse, I will only repeate them, and spare mine owne tongue, since she goes for a woman. These verses are these, which I haue so often caused to be song, that I haue them without booke.

What length of verse can serue braue Mopsas good to show?
Whose vertues strange, & beuties such, as no ma thē may know
Thus shrewdly burdned thē, how cā my Muse escape?
The gods must help, and pretious things must serue to shew her shape.
Like great god Saturn faire, and like faire Venus chaste:
As smothe as Pan, as Iuno milde, like goddesse Iris faste.
With Cupid she fore-sees, and goes god Vulcans pace:
And for a tast of all these gifts, she steales god Momus grace.
Her forhead iacinth like, her cheekes of opall hue,
Her twinkling eies bedeckt with pearle, her lips as Saphir blew:
Her haire like Craple-stone; her mouth O heauenly wyde;
Her skin like burnisht gold, her hands like siluer vre vntryde.
As for her parts vnknowne, which hidden sure are best:
happie be they which well beleeue, & neuer seeke the rest.

Now truely hauing made these descriptions vnto you, me thinkes you should imagine that I rather faine some pleasant deuise, then recount a truth, that a Prince (not banished from his own wits) could possibly make so vnworthie a choise. But truely (deare guest) so it is, that Princes (whose doings haue beene often soothed with good successe) thinke nothing so absurde, which they cannot make honourable. The beginning of his credite was by the Princes straying out of the way, one time he hunted, where meeting this fellow, and asking him the way; & so falling into other questiōs, he found some of his aunswers (as a dog sure if he could speake, had wit enough to describe his kennell) not vnsensible, & all vttered with such rudenes, which he enterpreted plainnesse (though there be great difference betweene them) that Basilius conceauing a sodaine delight, tooke him to his Court, with apparant shew of his good opi­nion: where the flattering courtier had no sooner takē the Princes minde, but that there were straight reasons to confirme the Princes doing, & shadowes of vertues found for Dametas. His silence grew wit, his bluntnesse integritie, his beastly ignorance vertuous simplicitie: & the Prince (according to the nature of great persons, in loue with that he had done himselfe) fancied, that his weaknesse with his presence would much be mended. And so like a creature of his owne making, he liked him more and more, and thus hauing first giuen him the of­fice of principall heardman, lastly, since he tooke this strange determination, he hath in a manner put the life of himselfe and his children into his hands. Which au­thoritie (like too great a sayle for so small a boate) doth so ouer-sway poore Dametas, that if before he were a[Page] good foole in a chamber, he might be allowed it now in a comedie: So as I doubt me (I feare mee in deede) my master will in the end (with his cost) finde, that his office is not to make men, but to vse men as men are; no more then a horse will be taught to hunt, or an asse to mannage. But in sooth I am afraide I haue geuen your eares too great a sursette, with the grosse discourses of that heauie peece of flesh. But the zealous greese I con­ceue to see so great an error in my Lord, hath made me bestow more words, then I confesse so base a subiect deserueth.

CHAP. 4.

The 1 cause of Basilius his discourting. 2 Philanax his dis­swasiue letter. 3 Basilius his priuiledged companie. 4 Foure causes why old men are discoursers. 5 The state, the skil, and exercise of the Arcadian shepheards.

argument key no. 1 THus much now that I haue tolde you, is nothing more then in effect any Arcadian knowes. But what moued him to this strange solitari­nes hath bin imparted (as I thinke) but to one person liuing. My selfe cā cōiecture, & in deed more then coniecture, by this accident that I will tell you: I haue an onely sonne, by name Clitophon, who is now absent, preparing for his owne mariage, which I meane shortly shalbe here celebrated. This sonne of mine (while the Prince kept his Court) was of his bed-chamber; now since the breaking vp thereof, returned home, and shewed me (among other things he had gathered) the[Page 14] coppy which he had taken of a letter: which when the prince had read, he had laid in a window, presuming no body durst looke in his writings: but my sonne not on­ly tooke a time to read it, but to copie it. In trueth I bla­med Clitophon for the curiositie, which made him break his duetie in such a kind, whereby kings secrets are sub­iect to be reucaled: but since it was done, I was content to take so much profite, as to know it. Now here is the letter, that I euer since for my good liking, haue caried about me: which before I read vnto you, I must tell you from whom it came. It is a noble-man of this countrie, named Philanax, appointed by the Prince, Regent in this time of his retiring, and most worthie so to be: for, there liues no man, whose excellent witte more simplie imbraseth integritie, besides his vnfained loue to his master, wherein neuer yet any could make question, sa­uing, whether he loued Basilius or the Prince better: a rare temper, while most men either seruile-ly yeeld to al appetites, or with an obstinate austeritie looking to that they fansie good, in effect neglect the Princes person. This then being the man, whom of all other (and most worthie) the Prince cheefly loues, it should seeme (for more then the letter I haue not to ghesse by) that the Prince vpon his returne from Delphos, (Philanax then lying sick) had written vnto him his determination, ri­sing (as euidently appeares) vpon some Oracle he had there receaued: whereunto he wrote this answere.

Philanax his letter to Basilius.

MOst redouted & beloued prince, if aswel it had plea­sed argument key no. 2 you at your going to Delphos as now, to haue[Page] vsed my humble seruice, both I should in better sea­son, and to better purpose haue spoken: and you (if my speech had preuayled) should haue beene at this time, as no way more in danger, so much more in qui­etnes; I would then haue said, that wisdome, and vertue be the only destinies appointed to mā to follow, whēce we ought to seeke al our knowledge, since they be such guydes as cannot faile; which, besides their inward cō ­sort, doo lead so direct a way of proceeding, as either prosperitie must ensue; or, if the wickednes of the world should oppresse it, it can neuer be said, that euil hapneth to him, who falles accompanied with vertue: I would then haue said, the heauenly powers to be reuerenced, and not searched into; & their mercies rather by pray­ers to be sought, then their hidden councels by curiosi­tie. These kind of soothsayers (since they haue left vs in our selues sufficient guides) to be nothing but fansie, wherein there must either be vanitie, or infalliblenes, & so, either not to be respected, or not to be preuented. But since it is weakenes too much to remember what should haue beene done, and that your commandemēt stretcheth to know what is to be done, I do (most deare Lord) with humble boldnes say, that the maner of your determination dooth in no sort better please me, then the cause of your going. These thirtie yeares you haue so gouerned this Region, that neither your Subiectes haue wanted iustice in you, nor you obediēce in them; & your neighbors haue found you so hurtlesly strong, that they thought it better to rest in your friendshippe, then make newe triall of your enmitie. If this then haue proceeded out of the good constitution of your state, and out of a wise prouidence, generally to preuent[Page 15] all those things, which might encōber your happines: why should you now seeke newe courses, since your owne ensample comforts you to continue, and that it is to me most certaine (though it please you not to tell me the very words of the Oracle) that yet no destinie, nor influence whatsoeuer, can bring mans witte to a higher point then wisdome and goodnes? Why should you depriue your selfe of gouernment, for feare of loo­sing your gouernment? like one that should kill him­selfe for feare of death? nay rather, if this Oracle be to be accoūted of, arme vp your courage the more against it: for who wil stick to him that abandones himselfe? Let your subiects haue you in their eyes; let them see the benefites of your iustice dayly more and more; and so must they needes rather like of present sureties, then vncertaine changes. Lastly, whether your time call you to liue or die, doo both like a prince. Now for your se­cond resolution; which is, to suffer no worthie prince to be a suiter to either of your daughters, but while you liue to keep thē both vnmaried; & as it were, to kill the ioy of posteritie, which in your time you may enioy: moued perchance by a mis-understoode Oracle. What shall I say? if the affection of a father to his owne chil­dren, cannot plead sufficiētly against such fancies: once certaine it is, the God, which is God of nature, doth ne­uer teach vnnaturalnes: and euen the same minde hold I touching your banishing them from companie, least, I know not what strange loues should follow. Certainly Sir, in my ladies, your daughters, nature promiseth no­thing but goodnes, and their education by your father­ly care, hath beene hetherto such, as hath beene most fit to restraine all euill: geuing their mindes vertuous de­lights,[Page] and not grecuing them for want of wel-ruled li­bertie. Now to fall to a sodain straightning them, what can it doo but argue suspition, a thing no more vnplea­sant, then vnsure, for the preseruing of vertue? Leaue womens minds, the most vntamed that way of any: see whetherany cage can please a bird? or whether a dogge growe not fierce with tying? what dooth ielousie, but stirre vp the mind to thinke, what it is from which they are restrayned? for they are treasures, or things of great delight, which men vse to hide, for the aptnesse they haue to catch mens fancies: and the thoughtes once a­waked to that, harder sure it is to keepe those thoughts from accomplishment, then it had been before to haue kept the minde (which being the chiefe part, by this meanes is defiled) from thinking. Lastly, for the recom­mending so principall a charge of the Princesse Pamela, (whose minde goes beyond the gouerning of many thousands such) to such a person as Dametas is (besides that the thing in it self is strange) it comes of a very euil ground, that ignorance should be the mother of faith­fulnes. O no, he cannot be good, that knowes not why he is good, but stands so farre good, as his fortune may keepe him vnassaied: but comming once to that, his rude simplicitie is either easily changed, or easily decei­ued: & so growes that to be the last excuse of his fault, which seemed to haue been the first foundation of his faith. Thus farre hath your commaundement and my zeale drawn me; which I, like a man in a valley that may discern hilles, or like a poore passenger that may spie a rock, so humbly submit to your gracious consideration, beseeching you againe, to stand wholy vpon your own vertue, as the surest way to maintaine you in that you are, and to auoyd any euill which may be imagined.

By the contents of this letter you may perceiue, that the cause of all, hath beene the vanitie which possesseth many, who (making a perpetuall mansion of this poore baiting place of mans life) are desirous to know the cer­taintie of things to come; wherein there is nothing so certaine, as our continual vncertaintie. But what in par­ticular points the oracle was, in faith I know not: nether (as you may see by one place of Philanax letter) he him­selfe distinctly knew. But this experience shewes vs, that Basilius iudgement, corrupted with a Princes fortune, hath rather heard then followed the wise (as I take it) counsell of Philanax. For, hauing lost the sterne of his gouernment, with much amazement to the people, a­mong whom many strange bruits are receiued for cur­rant, and with some apparance of daunger in respect of the valiant Amphalus his nephew, & much enuy in the ambitious number of the Nobilitie against Philanax, to see Philanax so aduanced, though (to speake simply) he deserue more thē as many of vs as there be in Arcadia: the prince himself hath hidden his head, in such sort as I told you, not sticking plainly to cōsesse, that he means not (while he breathes) that his daughters shal haue a­ny husbād, but keep thē thus solitary with him: wher he argument key no. 3 giues no other body leue to visit him at any time, but a certain priest, who being excellent in poetrie, he makes him write out such thinges as he best likes, he being no les delightful in cōuersatiō, thē needfull for deuotiō, & about twēty specified shepheards, in whō (some for ex­ercises, & some for Eglogs) he taketh greater recreatiō.

And now you know as much as my self: wherin if I argument key no. 4 haue held you ouer long, lay hardly the fault vpon my old eage, which in the very disposition of it is talka­iue: whether it be (said he smiling) that nature loues to[Page] exercise that part most, which is least decayed, and that is our tongue: or, that knowledge being the only thing whereof we poore old men can brag, we cannot make it knowen but by vtterance: or, that mankinde by all meanes seeking to eternize himselfe so much the more, as he is neere his end, dooth it not only by the children that come of him, but by speeches and writings recom­mended to the memorie of hearers and readers. And yet thus much I wil say for my selfe, that I haue not laid these matters, either so openly, or largely to any as your selfe: so much (if I much sayle not) doo I see in you, which makes me both loue and trust you. Neuer may he be old, answered Palladius, that dooth not reuerence that age, whose heauines, if it waie downe the frayl and fleshly ballance, it as much lifts vp the noble and spiri­tuall part: and well might you haue alledged another reason, that their wisdome makes them willing to pro­site others. And that haue I receiued of you, neuer to be forgotten, but with vngratefulnes. But among many strange conceits you tolde me, which haue shewed ef­fects in your Prince, truly euen the last, that he should conceiue such pleasure in shepheards discourses, would not seeme the least vnto me, sauing that you told me at the first, that this countrie is notable in those wits, and that in deed my selfe hauing beene brought not onely to this place, but to my life, by Strephon and Claius, in their conference found wits as might better become such shepheards as Homer speakes of, that be gouernors of peoples, then such senatours who hold their coun­cell in a shepecoate: for them two (said Kalander) espe­cially Claius, they are beyond the rest by so much, as learning commonlie doth adde to nature: for, hauing[Page 17] neglected their wealth in respect of their knowledge, they haue not so much empayred the meaner, as they bettered the better. Which all notwithstanding, it is a sporte to heare howe they impute to loue, whiche hath indewed their thoughts (saie they) with suche a strength.

But certainely, all the people of this countrie from argument key no. 5 high to lowe, is giuen to those sportes of the witte, so as you would wonder to heare how soone euen chil­dren will beginne to versifie. Once, ordinary it is a­mong the meanest sorte, to make Songes and Dia­logues in meeter, either loue whetting their braine, or long peace hauing begun it, example and emulation amending it. Not so much, but the clowne Dametas will stumble sometimes vpon some Songs that might become a better brayne: but no sorte of people so ex­cellent in that kinde as the pastors; for their liuing stan­ding but vpon the looking to their beastes, they haue ease, the Nurse of Poetrie. Neither are our shepheards such, as (I heare) they be in other countries; but they are the verie owners of the sheepe, to which eyther themselues looke, or their children giue daylie atten­daunce. And then truely, it would delight you vnder some tree, or by some riuers side (when two or three of them meet together) to heare their rurrall muse, how pretely it will deliuer out, sometimes ioyes, sometimes lamentations, sometimes chalengings one of the o­ther, sometimes vnder hidden formes vttering such matters, as otherwise they durst not deale with. Then they haue most commonly one, who iudgeth the price to the best doer, of which they are no lesse gladde, then great Princes are of triumphes: and his parte is to sette[Page] downe in writing all that is saide, saue that it may be, his pen with more leasure doth polish the rudenesse of an vnthought-on songe. Now the choise of all (as you may well thinke) either for goodnesse of voice, or plea­santnesse of wit, the Prince hath: among whom also there are two or three straungers, whom inwarde me­lancholies hauing made weery of the worldes eyes, haue come to spende their liues among the countrie people of Arcadia; & their conuersation being well ap­proued, the prince vouchsaseth them his presence, and not onely by looking on, but by great courtesie and li­beralitie, animates the Shepheardes the more exqui­sitely to labour for his good liking. So that there is no cause to blame the Prince for somtimes hearing them; the blame-worthinesse is, that to heare them, he rather goes to solitarinesse, then makes them come to com­panie. Neyther doo I accuse my maister for aduaun­cing a countriman, as Dametas is, since God forbid, but where worthinesse is (as truely it is among diuers of that fellowship) any outward lownesse should hinder the hiest raysing, but that he would needes make ele­ction of one, the basenesse of whose minde is such, that it sinckes a thousand degrees lower, then the ba­sest bodie could carrie the most base fortune: Which although it might bee aunswered for the Prince, that it is rather a trust hee hath in his simple plainnesse, then any great aduauncement, beyng but chiefe heardman: yet all honest hartes feele, that the trust of their Lord goes beyond all aduauncement. But I am euer too long vppon him, when hee crosseth the waie of my speache, and by the shaddowe of yonder Tower, I see it is a fitter time, with our supper to pay the duties we[Page 18] owe to our stomacks, thē to break the aire with my idle discourses: And more witte I might haue learned of Homer (whome euen now you mentioned) who ne­uer entertayned eyther guestes or hostes with long speaches, till the mouth of hunger be throughly stop­ped. So withall he rose, leading Palladius through the gardeine againe to the parler, where they vsed to suppe; Palladius assuring him, that he had alreadie bene more fed to his liking, then hee could bee by the skilfullest trencher-men of Media.

CHAP. 5.

The 1 sorow of Kalander for his sonne Clitophon. The 2 storie of Argalus and Parthenia, their 3 perfections, their 4 loue, their 5 troubles, her 6 impoysoning, 7 his rare constancie, 8 her straunge refusall, 9 their patholo­gies, her 10 flight, his 11 reuenge on his riuall the mis­chiefe-worker Demagoras, then Captaine of the re­bell Helots, who 12 take him, and 13 Clitophon that sought to helpe him: but 14 both are kept aliue by their new captaine.

BVt beeing come to the supping place, one of Kalanders seruaunts argument key no. 1 rounded in his eare; at which (his collour chaungyng) hee retired him selfe into his chamber; com­maunding his men diligentlie to waite and attend vpon Palladius, and to excuse his absence with some necessarie busines he had presentlie to dispatch.[Page] Which they accordinglie did, for some fewe dayes forcing thēselues to let no change appeare: but though they framed their countenaunces neuer so cunningly, Palladius perceaued there was some il-pleasing accident fallen out. Whereupon, being againe set alone at sup­per, he called to the Steward, and desired him to tell him the matter of his suddaine alteration: who after some trifling excuses, in the ende confessed vnto him, that his maister had receiued newes, that his sonne be­fore the daie of his neere marriage, chaunst to be at a battaile, which was to be fought betweene the Gentle­menne of Lacedaemon and the Helots: who winning the victorie, hee was there made prisoner, going to deliuer a friend of his taken prysoner by the Helots; that the poore young Gentleman had offered great raunsome for his life: but that the hate those paysaunts conceaued agaynst all Gentlemen was suche, that e­uerie houre hee was to looke for nothing, but some cruell death: which hether-vnto had onely beene de­layed by the Captaines vehement dealing for him, who seemed to haue a hart of more manlie pittie then the rest. Which losse had stricken the old Gentleman with such sorrowe, as if aboundance of teares did not seeme suffciently to witnesse it, he was alone retyred, tearing his bearde and hayre, and cursing his old age, that had not made his graue to stoppe his eares from such aduertisements: but that his faithfull seruaunts had written in his name to all his friends, followers, and tenants (Philanax the gouernour refusing to deale in it, as a priuate cause, but yet giuing leaue to seeke their best redresse, so as they wronged not the state of Lacedaemon) of whom there were now gathered[Page 19] vpon the frontiers good forces, that he was sure would spende their liues by any way, to redeeme or reuenge Clitophon. Now sir (said he) this is my maisters nature, though his grief be such, as to liue is a griefe vnto him, & that euen his reason is darkened with sorrow; yet the lawes of hospitality (long and holily obserued by him) giue still such a sway to his proceeding, that he will no waie suffer the straunger lodged vnder his roofe, to re­ceyue (as it were) any infection of his anguish, especi­ally you, toward whom I know not whether his loue, or admiration bee greater. But Palladius could scarce heare out his tale with patience: so was his hart torne in peeces with compassion of the case, liking of Kalan­ders noble behauiour, kindnesse for his respect to him­warde, and desire to finde some remedie, besides the image of his deerest friend Daiphantus, whom he iud­ged to suffer eythera like or a worse fortune: therefore rising from the boorde, he desired the steward to tell him particularly, the ground, and euent of this acci­dent, because by knowledge of many circumstaunces, there might perhaps some waie of helpe be opened. Whereunto the Steward easilie in this sorte condis­cended.

My Lord (said he) when our good king Basilius, with argument key no. 2 better successe then expectation, tooke to wife (euen in his more then decaying yeares) the faire yong princes Cynccia; there came with her a young Lord, cousin ger­man to her selfe, named Argalus, led hether, partly with the loue & honour of his noble kinswomā, partly with the humour of youth, which euer thinkes that good, whose goodnes he secs not: & in this court he receiued so good encrease of knowledge, that after some yeares[Page] spent, he so manifested a most vertuous mind in all his argument key no. 3 actions, that Arcadia gloried such a plant was trans­ported vnto them, being a Gentleman in deede most rarely accomplished, excellentlie learned, but with­out all vayne glory: friendly, without factiousnes: va­liaunt, so as for my part I thinke the earth hath no man that hath done more heroicall actes then hee; how so­euer now of late the same flies of the two princes of Thessalia and Macedon, and hath long done of our no­ble prince Amphialus: who in deede, in our partes is onely accounted likely to match him: but I say for my part, I thinke no man for valour of minde, and habili­tie of bodie to bee preferred, if equalled to Argalus; and yet so valiant as he neuer durst doo any bodie in­iurie: in behauiour some will say euer sadde, surely so­ber, and somewhat giuen to musing, but neuer vncour­teous; his worde euer ledde by his thought, and fol­lowed by his deede; rather liberall then magnificent, though the one wanted not, and the other had euer good choise of the receiuer: in summe (for I perceiue I shall easily take a great draught of his praises, whom both I and all this countrie loue so well) such a man was (and I hope is) Argalus, as hardly the nicest eye can finde a spot in, if the ouer-vehement constancie of yet spotles affection, may not in harde wrested constru­ctions be counted a spot: which in this manner began that worke in him, which hath made bothe him, and it selfe in him, ouer all this country famous. My maisters sonne Clitophon (whose losse giues the cause to this dis­course, and yet giues me cause to beginne with Arga­lus, since his losse proceedes from Argalus) beyng a young Gentleman, as of great birth (being our kings[Page 20] sisters sonne) so truely of good nature, and one that can see good and loue it, haunted more the companie of this worthie Argalus, then of any other: so as if there were not? friendship (which is so rare, as it is to bee doubted whether it bee a thing in deede, or but a worde) at least there was such a liking and friendlines, as hath brought foorth the effects which you shall heare. About two yeares since, it so fell out, that hee brought him to a great Ladies house, sister to my mai­ster, who had with her, her onely daughter, the faire Parthenia; faire in deede (same I thinke it selfe daring not to call any fayrer, if it be not Helena queene of Co­rinth, and the two incomparable sisters of Arcadia) and that which made her fairenesse much the fayrer, was, that it was but a faire embassadour of a most faire minde, full of wit, and a wit which delighted more to judge it selfe, then to showe it selfe: her speach being is rare as pretious; her silence without sullennesse; her modestie without affectation; her shamefastnes with­out ignorance: in summe, one, that to praise well, one must first set downe with himselfe, what it is to be ex­cellent: for so she is.

I thinke you thinke, that these perfections meeting,argument key no. 4 could not choose but find one another, and delight in that they found; for likenes of manners is likely in rea­son to drawe liking with affection: mens actions doo not alwaies crosse with reason: to be short, it did so in deed. They loued, although for a while the fire thereof (hopes winges being cut of) were blowen by the bel­lowes of dispaire, vpon this occasion.

There had beene a good while before, and so conti­nued,argument key no. 5 a futer to this same lady, a great noble mā, though[Page] of Laconia, yet neere neighbour to Parthenias mother, named Demagoras: A man mightie in riches & power, and proude thereof, stubbornly stout, louing no bo­die but himselfe, and for his owne delights sake Par­thenia: and pursuing vehemently his desire, his riches had so guilded ouer all his other imperfections, that the olde Ladie (though contrarie to my Lord her bro­thers minde) had giuen her consent; and vsing a mo­thers authorities vpon her faire daughter, had made her yeeld thereunto, not because shee liked her choise, but because her obedient minde had not yet taken vp­pon it to make choyse; and the daie of their assurance drew neere, when my young Lord Clitophon brought this noble Argalus, perchaunce principallie to see so rare a fight, as Parthenia by all well iudging eyes was iudged.

But though sewe dayes were before the time of as­surance appointed, yet loue that sawe hee had a great iourney to make in shorte time, hasted so him selfe, that before her worde could tie her to Demagoras, her harte hath vowed her to Argalus, with so gratefull a receipte in mutuall affection, that if shee desired aboue all thinges to haue Argalus, Argalus feared nothing but to misse Parthenia. And now Parthenia had learned both liking and misliking, louing and lothing, and out of passion began to take the authoritie of iudgement; in so much, that when the time came that Demagoras (full of proude ioy) thought to receaue the gifte of her selfe, shee with woordes of resolute refusall (though with teares shewing she was sorie she must refuse) assu­red her mother, she would first be bedded in her graue, then wedded to Demagoras. The chaunge was no[Page 21] more straunge, then vnpleasant to the mother: who beyng determinately (least I shoulde say of a great La­dy wilfully) bent to marrie her to Demagoras, tryed all wayes which a wittie and hard-harted mother could vse, vpon so humble a daughter: in whome the one­ly resisting power was loue. But the more shee assaul­ted, the more shee taught Parthenia to defende: and the more Parthenia defended, the more she made her mother obstinate in the assault: who at length finding, that Argalus standing betweene them, was it that most eclipsed her affection from shining vpon Demagoras, she sought all meanes how to remoue him, so much the more, as he manifested himself an vnremoueable suiter to her daughter: first, by imploying him in as many dā ­gerous enterprises, as euer the euill stepmother Iuno re­commended to the famous Hercules: but the more his vertue was tried, the more pure it grew, while all the things she did to ouerthrow him, did set him vp vpon the height of honor; inough to haue moued her harte, especially to a man euery way so worthy as Argalus: but she strugling against all reason, because she would haue her will, and shew her authoritie in matching her with Demagoras, the more vertuous Argalus was, the more he hated him: thinking her selfe conquered in his cō ­quests, and therefore still imploying him in more and more dangerous attempts: meane while, she vsed all ex­tremities possible vpon her faire daughter, to make her geue ouer her selfe to her direction. But it was hard to judge, whether he in doing, or she in suffering, shewed greater constancie of affection: for, as to Argalus the world sooner wanted occasions, then he valour to goe thorow them; so to Parthenia, malice sooner ceased, thē [Page] her vnchanged patience. Lastly, by treasons, Demagoras and she would haue made away Argalus: but hee with prouidence & courage so past ouer all, that the mother tooke such a spitefull grief at it, that her hart brake with­all, and she died.

argument key no. 6 But then, Demagoras assuring himselfe, that now Par­thenia was her owne, she would neuer be his, and recei­uing as much by her owne determinate answere, not more desiring his owne happines, then enuying Arga­lus, whom he saw with narrow eyes, euen ready to en­ioy the perfection of his desires; strengthning his con­ceite with all the mischieuous counsels which disday­ned loue, and enuious pride could geue vnto him; the wicked wretch (taking a time that Argalus was gone to his countrie, to fetch some of his principall frendes to honour the mariage, which Parthenia had most ioyfully consented vnto,) the wicked Demagoras (I say) desiring to speake with her, with vnmercifull force, (her weake armes in vaine resisting) rubd all ouer her face a most horrible poyson: the effect whereof was such, that ne­uer leaper lookt more vgly thē she did: which done, ha­uing his men & horses ready, departed away in spite of her seruāts, as redy to reuenge as they could be, in such an vnexpected mischiefe. But the abhominablenes of this fact being come to my L. Kalander, he made such meanes, both by our kings intercession, & his own, that by the king, & Senat of Lacedaemō, Demagoras was vp­on paine of death, banished the countrie: who hating the punishment, where he should haue hated the fault, ioynde himselfe, with al the powers he could make, vn­to the Helots, lately in rebellion against that state: and they (glad to haue a man of such authority among thē)[Page 22] made him their general: & vnder him haue committed diuers the most outragious villanies, that a base multi­tude (full of desperate reuenge) can imagine.

But within a while after this pitifull fact committed argument key no. 7 vpon Parthenia, Argalus returned (poore gentleman) ha­uing her faire image in his heart, and already promising his eies the vttermost of his felicitie, when they (no bodie els daring to tell it him) were the first messen­gers to themselues of their owne misfortune. I meane not to moue passions with telling you the griese of both, when he knew her, for at first he did not, nor at first knowledge could possibly haue Vertues aide so ready, as not euen weakly to lament the losse of such a iewell, so much the more, as that skilful men in that arte assured it was vnrecouerable: but within a while, trueth of loue (which still held the first face in his memorie) a vertuous constancie, and euen a delight to be constant, faith geuen, and inward worthines shining through the foulest mistes, tooke so full holde of the noble Argalus, that not onely in such comfort which witty arguments may bestow vpon aduersitie, but euen with the most a­boundant kindnesse that an eye-rauished louer can ex­presse, he laboured both to driue the extremity of sorow from her, & to hasten the celebration of their mariage: wherunto he vnsainedly shewed himself no lesse chere­fully earnest, then if she had neuer been disinherited of that goodly portion, which nature had so liberally be­queathed vnto her: and for that cause deferred his intē ­ded reuenge vpon Demagoras, because he might conti­nually be in her presence; shewing more hūble seruice­ablenes, and ioy to content her, then euer before.

But as he gaue this rare ens̄aple, not to be hoped for of argument key no. 8 [Page] any other, but of an other Argalus: so of the other side, she tooke as strange a course in affection: for, where she desired to enioy him, more then to liue; yet did she o­uerthrow both her owne desire, and his, and in no sorte would yeeld to marry him; with a strange encounter of loues affects, and effects: that he by an affection sprong from excessiue beautie, should delight in horrible soul­nesse; and she, of a vehement desire to haue him, should kindly buyld a resolution neuer to haue him: for trueth is, that so in heart she loued him, as she could not finde in her heart he should be tied to what was vnworthy of his presence.

argument key no. 9 Truely Sir, a very good Orator might haue a sayre field to vse eloquence in, if he did but onely repeate the lamentable, and truely affectionated speeches, while he coniured her by remembrance of her affection, & true oathes of his owne affection, not to make him so vn­happy, as to think he had not only lost her face, but her hart; that her face, when it was fayrest, had been but as a marshall, to lodge the loue of her in his minde; which now was so well placed, as it needed no further help of any outward harbinger: beseeching her, euen with teares, to know, that his loue was not so superficial, as to go no further then the skin; which yet now to him was most faire, since it was hers: how could hee be so vn­gratefull, as to loue her the lesse for that, which she had onely receiued for his sake: that he neuer beheld it, but therein he saw the louelines of her loue towarde him: protesting vnto her, that he would neuer take ioy of his life, if he might not enioy her, for whom principally he was glad he had life. But (as I heard by one that ouer­heard them) she (wringing him by the hand) made no[Page 23] other answere but this: my Lord (said she) God knowes Iloue you: if I were Princesse of the whole world, and had withal, al the blessings that euer the world brought forth, I should not make delay, to lay my selfe, & them, vnder your feete: or if I had continued but as I was, though (I must cōsesse) far vnworthy of you, yet would I, (with too great a ioy for my hart to think of) haue ac­cepted your vouchsasing me to be yours, & with faith and obedience would haue supplied all other defects. But first let me be much more miserable then I am, ere I match Argalus to such a Parthenia: Liue happy, deare Argalus, I geue you full libertie, and I beseech you take it; and I assure you I shall reioyce (whatsoeuer become of me) to see you so coupled, as may be sitte, both for your honor, and satisfaction. With that the burst out in crying and weeping, not able longer to conteine her selfe from blaming her fortune, and wishing her owne death.

But Argalus with a most heauie heart still pursuing argument key no. 10 his desire, she fixt of mind to auoid further intreatie, & to flie all companie; which (euen of him) grew vnplea­sant vnto her; one night she stole away: but whether, as yet is vnknowen, or in deede what is become of her.

Argalus sought her long, and in many places: at argument key no. 11 length (despairing to finde her, and the more he despai­rd, the more enraged) weerie of his life, but first deter­mining to be reuenged of Demagoras, hee went alone disguysed into the chiefe towne held by the Helots: where comming into his presence, garded about by many of his souldiers, he could delay his fury no lōger for a fitter time: but setting vpon him, in despight of a great many that helped him, gaue him diuers mortall[Page] wounds, and himself (no question) had been there pre­sently argument key no. 12 murthered, but that Demagoras himselfe desired he might be kept aliue; perchaunce with intention to feed his owne eyes with some cruell execution to bee layd vpon him, but death came soner then he lookt for; yet hauing had leisure to appoint his successor, a young man, not long before deliuered out of the prison of the King of Lacedoemon, where hee should haue suffered death for hauing flaine the kings Nephew: but him he named, who at that time was absent, making roades vp­on the Lacedemonians, but being returned, the rest of the Helots, for the great liking they conceiued of that yong man, (especially because they had none among themselues to whom the others would yeeld) were cō ­tent to follow Demagoras appointment. And well hath it succeded with them, he hauing since done things be­yond the hope of the yongest heads; of whom I speak the rather, because he hath hetherto preserued Argalus aliue, vnder pretence to haue him publiquely, and with exquisite tormentes executed, after the ende of these warres, of which they hope for a soone and prosperous issue.

And he hath likewise hetherto kept my young Lord argument key no. 13 Clitophon aliue, who (to redeme his friend) went with certaine other noble-men of Laconia, and forces gathe­red by them, to besiege this young and new successor: but he issuing out (to the wonder of all men) defeated argument key no. 14 the Laconians, flew many of the noble-men, & tooke Clitophon prisoner, whom with much a doo he keepeth aliue: the Helots being villanously cruell; but he tempe­reth thē so, sometimes by folowing their humor, some­times by striuing with it, that hetherto hee hath faued[Page 24] both their liues, but in different estates; Argalus being kept in a close & hard prison, Clitophon at some libertic. And now Sir, though (to say the truth) we can promise our selues litle of their safeties, while they are in the He­lots hands, I haue deliuered all I vnderstande touching the losse of my Lords sonne, & the cause therof: which, though it was not necessarie to Clitophons case, to be so particularly told, yet the strāgenes of it, made me think would not be vnplesant vnto you.

CHAP. 6.

1 Kalanders expedition against the Helots. 2 Their estate. 3 Palladius his stratageme against them: 4 which pre­uayleth. 5 The Helots resistance, discomfiture, and 6 re­enforce by the returne of their new captaine 7 The com­bat and 8 enterknowledge of Daiphantus & Palladius, and by their 9 meanes a peace, with 10 the release of Ka­lander and Clitophon.

PAlladius thanked him greatly for it, being euen passionatly delighted with hearing so straunge an acci­dēt of a knight so famous ouer the world, as Argalus, with whome he had himselfe a long desire to meet: so had same poured a noble emu­lation in him, towards him.

But thē (wel bethinking himselfe) he called for armour,argument key no. 1 desiring them to prouide him of horse & guide, and ar­med al fauing the head, he wēt vp to Kalāder, whom he found lying vpō the groūd, hauing euer since banished[Page] both sleepe and foode, as enemies to the mourning which passion perswaded him was reasonable. But Pal­ladius raysed him vp, saying vnto him: No more, no more of this, my Lord Kalander; let vs labour to finde, before wee lament the losse: you know my selfe misse one, who, though he be not my sonne, I would disdayn the fauour of life after him: but while there is hope left, let not the weaknes of sorow, make the strength of it languish: take comfort, and good successe will folow. And with those wordes, comfort seemed to lighten in his eyes, and that in his face and gesture was painted victorie. Once, Kalanders spirits were so reuiued withal, that (receiuing some sustenance, and taking a litle rest) he armed himselfe, and those few of his seruants he had left vnsent, and so himself guyded Palladius to the place vpon the frontiers: where already there were assembled betwene three and four thousand men, all wel disposed (for Kalanders sake) to abide any perill: but like men dis­used with a long peace, more determinate to doo, then skilfull how to doo: lusty bodies, and braue armours: with such courage, as rather grew of despising their eni­mies, whom they knew not, then of any confidence for any thing, which in them selues they knew; but nei­ther cunning vse of their weapons, nor arte shewed in their marching, or incamping. Which Palladius soone perceiuing, he desired to vnderstand (as much as could be deliuered vnto him) the estate of the Helots.

argument key no. 2 And he was answered by a man well acquainted with the affaires of Laconia, that they were a kinde of people, who hauing been of old, freemen and possessi­oners, the Lacedemonians had conquered them, and layd, not onely tribute, but bondage vpon them: which[Page 25] they had long borne; till of late the Lacedoemonians through greedinesse growing more heauie then they could beare, and through contempt lesse carefull how to make them beare, they had with a generall consent (rather springing by the generalnes of the cause, then of any artificiall practise) set themselues in armes, and whetting their courage with reuenge, and grounding their resolutiō vpon despaire, they had proceeded with vnloked-for succes: hauing already takē diuers Towns and Castels, with the slaughter of many of the gentrie; for whom no sex nor age could be accepted for an ex­cuse. And that although at the first they had fought rather with beastly furie, then any souldierly discipline, practise had now made then comparable to the best of the Lacedoemonians; & more of late then euer; by rea­son, first of Demagoras a great Lord, who had made him self of their partie, and since his death, of an other Cap­taine they had gotten, who had brought vp their igno­rance, and brought downe their furie, to such a meane of good gouernment, and withall led them so valou­rouslie, that (besides the time wherein Clitophon was taken) they had the better in some other great cōflicts: in such wise, that the estate of Lacedoemon had sent vnto them, offering peace with most reasonable and hono­rable conditions. Palladius hauing gotten this gene­rall knowledge of the partie against whom, as hee had already of the party for whom he was to fight, he went to Kalander, and told him plainlie, that by playne force there was small apparaunce of helping Clitophon: but some deuice was to be taken in hand, wherein no lesse discretion then valour was to be vsed.

Whereupon, the councel of the chiefe men was cal­led argument key no. 3 [Page] and at last, this way Palladius (who by some expe­rience, but especiallie by reading Histories, was ac­quainted with stratagemes) inuented, and was by all the rest approoued: that all the men there shoulde dresse themselues like the poorest sorte of the people in Arcadia, hauing no banners, but bloudie shirtes hanged vpon long staues, with some bad bagge pipes in stead of drumme and fife, their armour they should aswell as might be, couer, or at least make them looke so rustilie, and ill-fauouredly as might well become such wearers; and this the whole number should doo, sauing two hundred of the best chosen Gentlemen, for courage and strength, whereof Palladius him selfe would be one, who should haue their armes chayned, and be put in cartes like prisoners. This being perfor­med according to the agreement, they marched on to­wards the towne of Cardamila where Clitophon was cap­tiue; and being come two houres before Sunne-set within vewe of the walles, the Helots alreadie descry­ing their number, and beginning to found the Alla­rum, they sent a cunning fellow, (so much the cunnin­ger as that he could maske it vnder rudenes) who with such a kind of Rhetorike, as weeded out all flowers of Rhetorike, deliuered vnto the Helots assembled toge­ther, that they were countrie people of Arcadia, no lesse oppressed by their Lords, & no lesse desirous of liberty then they, & therfore had put themselues in the field, & had alreadie (besides a great number slaine) taken nine or ten skore Gentlemen prisoners, whō they had there well & fast chained. Now because they had no strong retiring place in Arcadia, & were not yet of number e­nough to keepe the fielde against their Princes forces,[Page 26] they were come to them for succor; knowing, that dai­ly more & more of their qualitie would flock vnto thē but that in the mean time, left their Prince should pur­sue thē, or the Lacedaemonian King & Nobilitie (for the likenes of the cause) fall vpon them, they desired that if there were not roome enough for them in the towne, that yet they might encampe vnder the walles, and for surety haue their prisoners (who were such mē as were euer able to make their peace) kept within the towne.

The Helots made but a short consultatiō, being glad argument key no. 4 that their contagion had spread it selfe into Arcadia, and making account that if the peace did not fall out betweene them and their King, that it was the best way to set fire in all the parts of Greece; besides their greedi­nesse to haue so many Gentlemen in their handes, in whose raunsoms they already meant to haue a share; to which hast of concluding, two thinges wel helped; the one, that their Captaine with the wisest of them, was at that time absent about confirming or breaking the peace, with the state of Lacedaemon: the second, that o­uer-many good fortunes began to breed a proude reck­lesnesse in them: therefore sending to view the campe, and finding that by their speach they were Arcadians, with whom they had had no warre, neuer suspecting a priuate mans credite could haue gathered such a force, and that all other tokens witnessed them to be of the lowest calling (besides the chaines vpon the Gentle­men) they graunted not onely leaue for the prisoners, but for some others of the companie, and to all, that they might harbour vnder the walles. So opened they the gates, and receiued in the carts; which being done, and Palladius seing fit time, he gaue the signe, and sha­king[Page] of their chaynes, (which were made with such arte, that though they seemed most strong and fast, he that ware them might easily loose them) drew their swordes hidden in the cartes, and so setting vpon the ward, made them to flie eyther from the place, or from their bodies, and so giue entrie to all the force of the Arcadians, before the Helots could make any head to resist them.

argument key no. 5 But the Helots being men hardened against daun­gers, gathered as (well as they could) together in the market place, and thence would haue giuen a shrewd welcome to the Arcadians, but that Palladius (blaming those that were slow, hartning thē that were forward, but especially with his owne ensample leading them) made such an impression into the squadron of the He­lots, that at first the great bodie of them beginning to shake, and stagger; at length, euery particular bodie re­commended the protection of his life to his feet. Then Kalander cried to go to the prison, where he thought his sonne was, but Palladius wisht him (first scouring the streates) to house all the Helots, and make themselues maisters of the gates.

argument key no. 6 But ere that could be accomplished, the Helots had gotten new hart, and with diuers fortes of shot from corners of streats, and house windowes, galled them; which courage was come vnto them by the returne of their Captian; who though he brought not many with him (hauing disperst most of his companies to other of his holds) yet meeting a great nūber rūning out of the gate, not yet possest by the Arcadians, he made them turne face, & with banners displayed, his Trumpet giue the lowdest testimonie he could of his returne, which[Page 27] once heard, the rest of the Helots which were otherwise scattered, bent thetherward, with a new life of resolu­tion: as if their Captaine had beene a roote, out of which (as into braunches) their courage had sprong. Then began the fight to grow most sharpe, and the en­counters of more cruell obstinacie. The Arcadians figh­ting to keepe that they had wonne, the Helots to reco­uer what they had lost. The Arcadians, as in an vn­knowne place, hauing no succour but in their handes; the Helots, as in their own place, fighting for their li­uings, wiues, & children. There was victory & courage against reuenge and despaire: safety of both sides being no otherwise to be gotten, but by destruction.

At length, the left winge of the Arcadians began to argument key no. 7 loose ground; which Palladius seeing, he streight thrust himselfe with his choise bande against the throng that oppressed thē, with such an ouerflowing of valour, that the Captaine of the Helots (whose eies soone iudged of that wherwith thēselues were gouerned) saw that he alone was worth al the rest of the Arcadians. Which he so wondred at, that it was hard to say, whether he more liked his doings, or misliked the effects of his doings: but determining that vpon that cast the game lay, and disdaining to fight with any other, fought onely to ioine with him: which minde was no lesse in Palladius, hauing easily marked, that he was as the first mouer of al the other handes. And so their thoughts meeting in one point, they consented (though not agreed) to trie each others fortune: & so drawing themselues to be the vttermost of the oneside, they began a combat, which was so much inferior to the battaile in noise and num­ber, as it was surpassing it in brauery of fighting, & (as it[Page] were) delightful terriblenes. Their courage was guided with skill, and their skill was armed with courage; nei­ther did their hardinesse darken their witte, nor their witte coole their hardines: both valiant, as men de­spising death; both confident, as vnwonted to be ouer­come; yet doutefull by their present feeling, and re­spectfull by what they had already seene. Their feete stedy, their hands diligent, their eyes watchfull, & their harts resolute. The partes either not armed, or weak­ly armed, were well knowen, and according to the knowledge should haue bene sharpely visited, but that the aunswere was as quicke as the objection. Yet some lighting; the smarte bred rage, and the rage bred smarte againe: till both sides beginning to waxe faint, and rather desirous to die accompanied, then hopeful to liue victorious, the Captaine of the Helots with a blow, whose violence grew of furie, not of strength, or of strength proceeding of furie, strake Palladius vpon the side of the head, that he reelde astonied: and with­all the helmet fell of, he remayning bare headed: but other of the Arcadians were redie to shield him from any harme might rise of that nakednes.

argument key no. 8 But little needed it, for his chiefe enemie in steed of pursuing that aduantage, kneeled downe, offering to deliuer the pommell of his sworde, in token of yeel­ding, with all speaking aloud vnto him, that he thought it more libertie to be his prisoner, then any others ge­nerall. Palladius standing vppon him selfe, and mis­doubting some craft, and the Helots (that were next their captaine) wauering betweene looking for some stratageme, or fearing treason, What, saide the cap­taine, bath Palladius forgotten the voice of Daiphantus?

By that watche worde Palladius knew that it was his onely friende Pyrocles, whome he had lost vpon the argument key no. 9 Sea, and therefore both most full of wonder, so to be mett, if they had not bene fuller of ioye then won­der, caused the retraite to be founded, Daiphantus by authoritie, and Palladius by persuasion; to which hel­ped well the little aduantage that was of eyther side: and that of the Helots partie their Captaines behaui­our had made as many amazed as fawe or heard of it: and of the Arcadian side the good olde Kalan­der striuing more then his old age could atchieue, was newly taken prisoner. But in deede, the chiefe par­ter of the fraye was the night, which with her blacke armes pulled their malicious sightes one from the o­ther. But he that tooke Kalander, meant nothing lesse then to saue him, but onelie so long, as the Captaine might leanre the enemies secrets: towardes whom he led the old Gentleman, when he caused the retreit to be founded: looking for no other deliuerie from that captiuitie, but by the painfull taking away of all paine: when whome should he see nexte to the Captaine (with good tokens how valiantly he had sought that daie against the Arcadians) but his sonne Clitophon? But nowe the Captaine had caused all the principall Helots to be assembled, as well to deliberate what they had to do, as to receiue a message from the Arcadians; Amōg whom Palladius vertue (besides the loue Kalan­der bare him) hauing gottē principall authoritie, he had persuaded them to seeke rather by parley to recouer the Father and the Sonne, then by the sword: since the goodnes of the Captain assured him that way to speed, and his value (wherewith he was of old acquainted)[Page] made him thinke any other way dangerous. This ther­fore was donne in orderly manner, giuing them to vn­derstand, that as they came but to deliuer Clitophon, so offering to leaue the footing they already had in the towne, to goe away without any further hurte, so as they might haue the father, & the sonne without raun­some deliuered. Which conditions beyng heard and conceaued by the Helots, Daiphantus perswaded them without delay to accept them. For first (sayd he) since the strife is within our owne home, if you loose, you loose all that in this life can bee deare vnto you: if you winne, it will be a blouddy victorie with no profite, but the flattering in our selues that same badde humour of reuenge. Besides, it is like to stirre Arcadia vppon vs, which nowe, by vsing these persons well, maie bee brought to some amitie. Lastly, but especially, least the king and nobility of Laconia (with whom now we haue made a perfect peace) should hope, by occasion of this quarrell to ioyne the Arcadians with them, & so breake of the profitable agreement alreadie concluded. In summe, as in al deliberations (waying the profite of the good successe with the harme of the euill successe) you shall find this way most safe and honorable.

argument key no. 10 The Helots asmuch moued by his authoritie, as per­swaded by his reasons, were content therewith. Wher­vpon, Palladius tooke order that the Arcadians should presently march out of the towne, taking with them their prisoners, while the night with mutual diffidence might keepe them quiet, and ere day came they might be well on of their way, and so auoid those accidents which in late enemies, a looke, a word, or a particular mans quarel might engēder. This being on both sides[Page 29] concluded on, Kalander and Clitophon, who now (with infinite ioy did knowe each other) came to kisse the hands and feet of Daiphantus: Clitophon telling his fa­ther, how Daiphantus (not without danger to himselfe) had preserued him from the furious malice of the He­lots: & euen that day going to conclude the peace (leaft in his absence he might receiue some hurt) he had ta­ken him in his companie, and geuen him armour, vpon promise he should take the parte of the Helots; which he had in this fight perfourmed, little knowing that it was against his father: but (said Clitophon) here is he, who (as a father) hath new-begotten me, and (as a God) hath fa­ued me from many deaths, which already laid hold on me: which Kalander with teares of ioy acknowledged (besides his owne deliuerance) onely his benefite. But Daiphantus, who loued doing well for it selfe, and not for thanks, brake of those ceremonies, desiring to know how Palladius (for so he called Musidorus) was come in­to that companie, & what his present estate was: where­of receiuing a brief declaration of Kalander, he sent him word by Clitophon, that he should not as now come vn­to, because he held himselfe not so sure a master of Helots minds, that he would aduenture him in their power, who was so well knowen with an vnfriendly ac­quaintance; but that he desired him to return with Ka­lander, whether also he within few daies (hauing dispat­ched himselfe of the Helots) would repaire. Kalander would needes kisse his hande againe for that promise, protesting, he would esteme his house more blessed thē a temple of the gods, if it had once receiued him. And then desiring pardon for Argalus, Daiphantus assured them that hee woulde die, but hee woulde bring him,[Page] (though till then kept in close prison, indeed for his safetic, the Helots being so animàated against him as els hee could not haue liued) and so taking their leaue of him, Kalander, Clitophon, Palladius and the rest of the Arcadians swearing that they would no further in any forte molest the Helots, they straight way marched out of the towne, carying both their dead and woun­ded bodies with them; and by morning were alreadie within the limits of Arcadia.

CHAP. 7.

1 The articles of peace betwene the Lacedaemonians & He­lots, 2 Daiphātus his departure frō the Helots with Argalus to Kalanders house. 3 The offer of a strange Lady to Argalus 4 his refusal, and 5 who she was.

THe Helots of the other side shutting their gates, gaue them selues to burye their dead, to cure their woundes, and rest their weeried bodies: till (the next day bestow­ing the chereful vse of the light vp­on them) Daiphantus making a generall canuocation spake vnto them in this manner. We are first (said he) to thanke the Gods, that (further then wee had either cause to hope; or reason to imagine) haue deliuered vs out of this gulfe of daunger, wherein we were alredie swal­lowed. For all being lost, (had they had not directed,[Page 30] my return so iust as they did) it had bene too late to re­couer that, which being had, we could not keep. And had I not happened to know one of the principall men among them, by which meanes the truce beganne be­tweene vs, you may easily conceiue, what little reason we haue to think, but that either by some supplie out of Arcadia, or from the Nobilitie of this Country (who would haue made fruites of wisdome grow out of this occasion,) wee should haue had our power turned to ruine, our pride to repentance and sorow. But now the storme, as it fell out, so it ceased: and the error commit­ted, in retaining Clitophon more hardly then his age or quarrell deserued, becomes a sharply learned experi­ence, to vse in other times more moderation.

Now haue I to deliuer vnto you the conclusion be­tween argument key no. 1 the Kings with the Nobilitie of Lacedaemon, and you; which is in all points as your selues desired: aswell for that you would haue graunted, as for the assurance of what is graunted. The Townes and Fortes you pre­sently haue, are still left vnto you, to be kept either with or without garrison, so as you alter not the lawes of the Countrie, and pay such ducties as the rest of the Laconians doo. Your selues are made by publique decree, free men, and so capable both to giue and re­ceiue voice in election of Magistrates. The distinction of names betweene Helots and Lacedoemonians to bee quite taken away, and all indifferently to enjoy both names and priuiledges of Laconians. Your children to be brought vp with theirs in Spartane discipline: and so you (framing your selues to be good members of that estate) to bee hereafter fellowes, and no longer ser­uaunts.[Page] which conditions you see, cary in themselues no more contentation then assuraunce. For this is not a peace which is made with them, but this is a peace by which you are made of them. Lastly, a forgetfulnes decreed of of all what is past, they shewing thēselues glad to haue so valiant men as you are, ioyned with them: so that you are to take mindes of peace, since the cause of war is finished; and as you hated them before like oppres­sours, so now to loue them as brothers; to take care of their estate because it is yours, and to labour by vertu­ous doing, that the posteritie may not repent your ioy­ning. But now one Article onely they stood vpon, which in the end I with your commissioners haue a­greed vnto, that I should no more tarry here, mistaking perchaunce my humor, and thinking me as sedicious as I am young, or els it is the king Amiclas procuring, in respect that it was my il hap to kil his nephew Eurileon; but how soeuer it be, I haue condiscended. But so will not wee cryed almost the whole assemblie, coūcelling one an other, rather to trye the vttermost euent, then to loose him by whō they had beene victorious. But he as well with generall orations, as particular dealing with the men of most credit, made them throughly see how necessary it was to preferree such an opportunity before a vaine affection; but yet could not preuaile, til openly he sware, that he would (if at any time the Lace­doemonians brake this treatie) come back againe, and be their captaine.

argument key no. 2 So then after a few dayes, setling them in perfect or­der, hee tooke his leaue of them, whose eyes bad him farwell with teares, & mouthes with kissing the places where he stept, and after making temples vnto him as[Page 31] to a demi-God: thinking it beyond the degree of hu­manitie to haue a witt so farre ouergoing his age, and such dreadful terror procced from so excellent beutie. But he for his sake obtayned free pardon for Argalus, whom also (vppon oath neuer to beare armes, against the Helots) he deliuered; and taking onely with him certaine principall Iewells of his owne, he would haue parted alone with Argalus, (whose countenaunce well shewed, while Parthenia was lost he counted not him­selfe deliuered) but that the whole multitude would needs gard him into Arcadia. Where again, leauing the all to lament his departure, he by enquirie gotte to the wel-knowne house of Kalander: There was he re­ceiued with louing ioye of Kalander, with ioyfull loue of Palladius, with humble (though doulful) demeanor of Argalus (whom specially both he and Palladius re­garded) with gratefull seruisablenes of Clitophon, and honourable admiration of all. For being now well veiwed to haue no haire of his face, to witnes him a man, who had done acts beyond the degree of a man, and to looke with a certaine almost bashefull kinde of modestie, as if hee feared the eyes of men, who was vnmooued with sight of the most horrible counte­naunces of death; and as if nature had mistaken her woorke to haue a Marses heart in a Cupides bodye: All that beheld him (and al that might behold him, did be­hold him) made their eyes quicke messengers to their minds, that there they had seene the vttermost that in mankind might be seene. The like wonder Palladius had before stirred, but that Daiphantus, as younger and newer come, had gotten now the aduantage in the moyst & sickle impression of eye-sight. But while all[Page] men (sauing poore Argalus) made the ioy of their eyes speake for their harts towards Daiphantus: Fortune (that belike was bid to that banket, & ment then to play the good fellow) brought a pleasaūt aduenture among thē.

argument key no. 3 It was that as they had newly dined, there came in to Kalander a messenger, that brought him word, a young noble Lady, neere kinswoman to the fair Helen Queene of Corinth; was come thether, and then desired to be lodged in his house. Kalander (most glad of such an occasion) went out, and all his other worthie guests with him, sauing onely Argalus, who remained in his chamber, desirous that this company were once broken vp, that he might goe in his solitarie quest after Parthenia. But when they met this Lady; Kalander streight thought he sawe his neece Parthenia, and was about in such fa­miliar sorte to haue spoken vnto her: But she in graue and honorable manner giuing him to vnderstand that he was mistaken, he halfe ashamed, excused him­selfe with the exceeding likenes was betwene them, though indeede it seemed that his Lady was of the more pure and daintie complexion; shee said, it might very well be, hauing bene many times taken one for an other. But assoone as she was brought into the house, before she would rest her, she desired to speake with Ar­galus publickly, who she heard was in the house. Argalus came in hastely, and as hastelie thought as Kalander had done, with sodaine chaunges of ioye into sor­row. But she whē she had stayd their thoughts with tel­ling them her name, and qualitie in this sort spake vnto him. My Lord Argalus, sayd she, being of late left in the court of Queene Helen of Corinth, as chiefe in her absence (she being vpō some occasion gone thēce)[Page 32] there came vnto me the Lady Parthenia, so disguysed, as I thinke Greece hath nothing so ougly to behold. For my part, it was many dayes, before with vehement oathes, and some good proofes, she could make me thinke that she was Parthenia. Yet at last finding certen­ly it was she, and greatly pitying her misfortune, so much the more, as that all men had euer told me, (as now you doo) of the great likenes betweene vs, I tooke the best care I could of her: and of her vnderstood the whole tragicall historie of her vndeserued aduenture: and therewithall, of that most noble constancie in you my Lord Argalus: which whosoeuer loues not, shewes himselfe to be a hater of vertue, and vnworthie to liue in the societie of mankind. But no outward cherishing could salue the inward fore of her minde, but a fewe dayes since shee died: before her death earnestly desi­ring, and perswading me, to thinke of no husbande but of you; as of the onely man in the world worthie to be loued, with-all, she gaue me this Ring to deliuer you; desiring you, & by the authoritie of loue cōmaunding you, that the affection you bare her you should turne to me: assuring you, that nothing can please her soule more, then to see you and me matched together. Now my L. though this office be not (perchance) sutable to my estate nor sex, who shuld rather looke to be desired; yet, an extraordinarie desert requires an extraordinarie proceding: and therfore I am come (with faithfull loue built vpō your worthines) to offer my self, & to beseech you to accept the offer: & if these noble gētlemē presēt will say it is great folly, let thē withal, say it is great loue. And then she staid, earnestly attending Argalus his an­swere, who (first making most hartie sighes do such ob­sequies as he could, to Parthenia) thus answered her.

argument key no. 4 Madame (said he) infinitely bound am I vnto you, for this, no more rare, then noble courtesie; but most bound for the goodnes I perceiue you shewed to the lady Parthenia, (with that the teares ranne downe his eyes; but he followed on) and as much as so vnfortunat a man, sitte to be the spectacle of miserie, can doo you seruice; determine you haue made a purchase of a slaue (while I liue) neuer to sayle you. But this great matter you propose vnto me, wherein I am not so blind, as not to see what happines it should be vnto mee; Excellent Ladie, know, that if my hart were mine to giue, you be­fore al other, should haue it; but Parthenias it is, though dead: there I began, there I end all matter of affection: I hope I shall not long tarry after her, with whose beau­tie if I had onely been in loue, I should be so with you, who haue the same beautie: but it was Parthenias selfe I loued, and loue; which no likenes can make one, no cō ­maundement dissolue, no soulnes desile, nor no death finish. And shall I receiue (said he) such disgrace, as to be refused? Noble Ladie (said he) let not that harde word be vsed; who know your exceeding worthinesse farre beyond my desert: but it is onely happinesse I re­fuse, since of the onely happines I could and can de­sire, I am refused.

argument key no. 5 He had scarce spoken those words, when she ranne to him, and imbrasing him, Why then Argalus (saide she) take thy Parthenia; and Parthenia it was in deede. But because sorow forbad him too soon to beleeue, she told him the trueth, with all circumstances; how being parted alone, meaning to die in some solitarie place, as she hapned to make her complaint, the Queen Helen of Corinth (who likewise felt her part of miseries) being[Page 33] then walking also alone in that louely place, heard her, and neuer left, till she had knowne the whole dis­course. Which the noble Queene greatly pittying, she sent her to a Phisition of hers, the most excellent man in the worlde, in hope he could helpe her: which in such sorte as they saw perfourmed, and she taking with her of the Queenes seruants, thought yet to make this triall, whether he would quickly forget his true Parthe­nia, or no. Her speach was confirmed by the Corinthian Gentlemen, who before had kept her counsell, and Ar­galus easily perswaded to what more then ten thousand yeares of life he desired: and Kalander would needes haue the mariage celebrated in his house, principallie the longer to hold his deare guestes, towardes whom he was now (besides his owne habite of hospitalitie) carried with loue and dutie: & therfore omitted no ser­uice that his wit could inuent, and his power minister.

CHAP. 8.

The aduentures 1 first of Musidorus, 2 then of Pyrocles Since their shipwracke, to their meeting. 3 The mariage of Ar­galus and Parthenia.

argument key no. 1 BVt no waie he sawe he could so much pleasure them, as by leauing the two friends alone, who being shruncke aside to the banqueting house where the pictures were; there Palladius recounted vnto him, that after they had both abā ­doned the burning ship (& either,[Page] of them taken some thing vnder him the better to sup­porte him to the shore) he knew not how, but either with ouer-labouring in the fight and sodaine colde, or the too much receauing of salt water, he was past him­selfe: but yet holding fast (as the nature of dying men is to doo) the chest that was vnder him, he was cast on the sandes, where he was taken vp by a couple of Shepherds, and by them brought to life againe, and kept from drowning him selfe, when he despaired of his safetie. How after hauing failed to take him into the fisher boate, he had by the Shepheards persuasion come to this Gentlemans house; where being daunge­rouslie sicke, he had yeelded to seeke the recouery of health, onely for that he might the sooner go seeke the deliuerie of Pyrocles: to which purpose Kalander by some friends of his in Messenia, had alreadie set a ship or two abroad, when this accident of Clitophons ta­king had so blessedly procured their meeting. Thē did he set foorth vnto him the noble entertainement and careful cherishing of Kalander towards him, & so vpon occasiō of the pictures present deliuered with the frank­nesse of a friends tongue, as neere as he could, word by word what Kalander had told him touching the strange storie (with al the particularities belonging) of Arcadia, which did in many sortes so delight Pyrocles to heare; that he would needs haue much of it againe repeated, and was not contented till Kalander himselfe had an­swered him diuers questions.

argument key no. 2 But first at Musidorus request, though in brief māner, his mind much running vpō the strange storie of Arca­dia, he did declare by what course of aduētures he was come to make vp their mutuall happinesse in meeting.[Page 34] When (cosin, said he) we had stript ourselues, and were both leapt into the Sea, and swom a little toward the shoare, I found by reason of some wounds I had, that I should not be able to get the lande, and therefore tur­ned backe againe to the mast of the shippe, where you found me, assuring my selfe, that if you came aliue to the shore, you would seeke me; if you were lost, as I thought it as good to perishe as to liue, so that place as good to perish in as an other. There I found my sworde among some of the shrowds, wishing (I must confesse) if I died, to be found with that in my hand, and withall wauing it about my head, that saylers by it might haue the better glimpse of me. There you missing me, I was taken vp by Pyrates, who putting me vnder boorde prisoner, presentlie sett vppon an­other shippe, and mainteining a long fight, in the ende, put them all to the sworde. Amongst whom I might heare them greatlie prayse one younge man, who fought most valiantlie, whom (as loue is care­full, and misfortune subiect to doubtfulnes) I thought certainely to be you. And so holding you as dead, from that time till the time I sawe you, in trueth I sought nothing more then a noble ende, which per­chance made me more hardie then otherwise I would haue bene. Triall whereof came within two dayes after: for the Kinges of Lacedaemon hauing sett out some Galleys, vnder the charge of one of their Ne­phews to skowre the Sea of the Pyrates, they met with vs, where our Captaine wanting men, was driuen to arme some of his prisoners, with promise of li­bertie for well fighting: among whom I was one, and being boorded by the Admirall, it was my fortune to[Page] kil Eurileon the Kings nephew: but in the end they pre­uailed, & we were all takē prisoners: I not caring much what becamè of me (onely keeping the name of Dai­phantus, according to the resolution you know is be­tweene vs,) but beyng laid in the iayle of Tenaria, with speciall hate to me for the death of Eurileon, the popu­lar sort of that towne conspired with the Helots, and so by night opened them the gates; where entring and killing all of the gentle and riche faction, for honestie sake brake open all prisons, and so deliuered me; and I mooued with gratefulnesse, and encouraged with carelesnesse of life, so behaued my selfe in some con­flictes they had in fewe dayes, that they barbarouslie thinking vnsensible wonders of mee, and with all so much they better trusting mee, as they heard I was hated of the Kinge of Lacedoemon, (their chiefe Cap­tayne beyng slaine as you knowe by the noble Arga­lus, who helped therevnto by his perswasion) ha­uing borne a great affection vnto me, and to auoyde the daungerous emulation whiche grewe among the chiefe, who should haue the place, and all so affected, as rather to haue a straunger then a competitour, they elected mee, (God wotte little prowde of that digni­tie,) restoring vnto mee such thinges of mine as being taken first by the pyrates, and then by the Lacedoemo­nians, they had gotten in the sacke of the towne. Now being in it, so good was my successe with manie vi­ctories, that I made a peace for them to their owne liking, the verie daie that you deliuered Clitophon, whom I with much adoo had preserued. And in my peace the King Amiclas of Lacedoemon would needes haue mee bannished, and depriued of the dignitie[Page 35] whereunto I was exalted: which (and you may see howe much you are bounde to mee) for your sake I was content to suffer, a newe hope rising in mee, that you were not dead: and so meaning to trauaile ouer the worlde to seeke you; and now here (my deere Musidorus) you haue mee. And with that (em­bracing and kissinge each other) they called Kalan­der, of whom Daiphantus desired to heare the full sto­rie, which before hee had recounted to Palladius, and to see the letter of Philanax, which hee read and well marked.

But within some daies after, the marriage betweene argument key no. 3 Argalus and the faire Parthenia beyng to be celebra­ted, Daiphantus and Palladius selling some of their iew­els, furnished themselues of very faire apparell, mea­ning to doo honour to their louing hoste; who as much for their sakes, as for the marriage, set foorth each thing in most gorgeous manner. But all the cost bestowed did not so much enrich, nor all the fine dec­kinges so much beautifie, nor all the daintic deuises so much delight, as the fairenesse of Parthenia, the pearle of all the maydes of Mantinoea: who as shee went to the Temple to bee maried, her eyes them­selues seemed a temple, wherein loue and beautie were married: her lippes, although they were kepte close with modest silence, yet with a pretie kinde of natu­rall swelling, they seemed to inuite the guestes that lookt on them; her cheekes blushing, and withal when shee was spoken vnto, a little smilyng, were like roses, when their leaues are with a little breath stirred: her hayre being layed at the full length downe her backe, bare shewe as if the voward fayled, yet that would[Page] conquere. Daiphantus marking her, O Iupiter (said he speaking to Palladius) how happens it, that Beautie is onely confined to Arcadia? But Palladius not greatly at­tending his speach, some daies were continued in the solemnising the marriage, with al conceipts that might deliuer delight to mens fancies.

CHAP. 9.

1 Pyrocles his inclination to loue. 2 His, and Musidorus disputation thereabouts 3 broken of by Kalander.

argument key no. 1 BVt such a chaunge was growen in Daiphantus, that (as if cheereful­nesse had bene tediousnesse, and good entertainement were turnd to discourtesie) he would euer get him selfe alone, though almost when he was in companie, he was alone, so little attention he gaue to any that spake vnto him: euen the colour and figure of his face began to receaue some alteration; which he shewed little to heede: but euerie morning earlie go­ing abroad, either to the garden, or to some woods to­wards the desert, it seemed his only comfort was to be without a cōforter. But long it could not be hid from Palladius, whom true loue made redy to marke, & long knowledge able to marke; & therfore being now growē weary of his abode in Arcadia, hauing informed him­selfe fully of the strength & riches of the coūtry, of the nature of the people, and manner of their lawes: and,[Page 36] seing the courte could not be visited, prohibited to all men, but to certaine sheapheardish people, he great­ly desired a speedy returne to his own countrie, after the many mazes offortune he had troden. But percea­uing this great alteration in his friend, he thought first to breake with him thereof, and then to hasten his re­turne; whereto he founde him but smally enclined: whereupon one day taking him alone with certaine graces and countenances, as if he were disputing with the trees, began in this manner to say vnto him.

A mind wel trayned and long exercised in vertue (my argument key no. 2 sweete and worthy cosin) doth not easily chaunge any course it once vndertakes, but vpon well grounded & well wayed causes. For being witnes to itselfe of his owne inward good, it findes nothing without it of so high a price, for which it should be altered. Euen the very countenaunce and behauiour of such a man doth shew forth Images of the same constancy, by maintaining a right harmonie betwixt it and the in­ward good, in yeelding it selfe sutable to the vertu­ous resolution of the minde. This speech I direct to you (noble friend Pyrocles) the excellencie of whose minde and well chosen course in vertue, if I doo not sufficiently know, hauing seene such rare demonstra­tions of it, it is my weakenes, and not your vnwor­thines. But as in deede I know it, and knowing it, most dearely loue both it, and him that hath it; so must I needs saye, that since our late comming into this country, I haue marked in you, I will not say an alteratiō, but a relenting truely, & a slacking of the maine career, you had so notably begon, & almost per­formed[Page] and that in such sorte, as I cannot finde suffi­cient reason in my great loue toward you how to al­low it; for (to leaue of other secreter arguments which my acquaintaunce with you makes me easily finde) this in effect to any manne may be manyfest, that whereas you were wont in all places you came, to giue your selfe vehemently to the knowledge of those thinges which might better your minde; to seeke the familiaritye of excellent men in learning and souldiery: and lastly, to put all these thinges in practise both by continuall wise proceedinge, and worthie enterprises, as occasion fell for them; you now leaue all these things vndone: you let your minde fal a sleepe: beside your countenaunce troubled (which surely comes not of vertue; for vertue like the cleare heauen, is without cloudes) and lastly you subiect your selfe to solitarines, the slye enimie, that doth most se­parate a man from well doing. Pyrocles minde was all this while so fixed vpon another deuotion, that he no more attentiuely marked his friends discourse, then the childe that hath leaue to playe, markes the last part of his lesson; or the diligent Pilot in a daungerous tempest doth attend the vnskilful words of a passinger: yet the very sound hauing imprinted the general point of his speech in his hart, pierced with any mislike of so deerely an esteemed friend, and desirous by degrees to bring him to a gentler consideration of him, with a shamefast looke (witnessing he rather could not helpe, then did not know his fault) answered him to this pur­pose. Excellent Musidorus, in the praise you gaue me in the beginning of your spech, I easily acknowledge the force of your good will vnto mee, for neither coulde[Page 37] you haue thought so well of me, if extremitie of loue had not made your iudgement partiall, nor you could haue loued me so intierlie, if you had not beene apt to make so great (though vndeserued) iudgements of me; and euen so must I say to those imperfections, to which though I haue euer through weaknes been subiect, yet you by the daily mēding of your mind haue of late bin able to looke into them, which before you could not discerne; so that the chaunge you speake of, falles not out by my impairing, but by your betring. And yet vn­der the leaue of your better iudgement, I must needes say thus much, my deere cosin, that I find not my selfe wholye to be condemned, because I do not with con­tinuall vehemēcy folow those knowledges, which you call the bettering of my minde; for both the minde it selfe must (like other thinges) sometimes be vnbent, or else it will be either weakned, or broken: And these knowledges, as they are of good vse, so are they not all the minde may stretch it selfe vnto: who knowes whe­ther I feede not my minde with higher thoughts? Tru­lie as I know not all the particularities, so yet I see the bounds of all these knowledges: but the workings of the minde I finde much more infinite, then can be led vnto by the eye, or imagined by any, that distract their thoughts without themselues. And in such con­templation, or as I thinke more excellent, I enioye my solitarines; and my solitarines perchaunce is the nurse of these contemplations. Eagles we see fly alone; and they are but sheepe, which alvvaies heard together; cō ­demne not therefore my minde somtime to enioy it selfe; nor blame not the taking of such times as serue most fitte for it. And alas, deere Musidorus, if I be sadde,[Page] who knowes better then you the iust causes I haue of sadnes? And here Pyrocles sodainly stopped, like a man vnsatisfied in himselfe, though his witte might wel haue serued to haue satisfied another. And so looking with a countenaunce, as though he desired he should know his minde without hearing him speake, and yet de­sirous to speake, to breath out some part of his inward euill, sending againe new blood to his face, he con­tinued his speach in this manner. And Lord (dere cosin, said he) doth not the pleasauntnes of this place carry in itselfe sufficient reward for any time lost in it? Do you not see how all things conspire together to make this coūtry a heauenly dwelling? Do you not see the grasse how in colour they excell the Emeralds, euerie one striuing to passe his fellow, and yet they are all kept of an equal height? And see you not the rest of these beau­tifull flowers, each of which would require a mans wit to know, and his life to expresse? Do not these stately trees seeme to maintaine their florishing olde age with the onely happines of their seat, being clothed with a continuall spring, because no beautie here should euer fade? Doth not the aire breath health, which the Birds (delightfull both to eare and eye) do dayly solemnize with the sweet cōsent of their voyces? Is not euery eccho therof a perfect Musicke? and these fresh and delightful brookes how slowly they slide away, as loth to leaue the company of so many things vnited in perfection? and with how sweete a murmure they lament their forced departure? Certainelie, certainely, cosin, it must needes be that some Goddesse enhabiteth this Regi­on, who is the soule of this soile: for neither is any, lesse then a Goddesse, worthie to be shrined in such a heap of pleasures: nor any lesse thē a Goddesse, could[Page 38] haue made it so perfect a plotte of the celestiall dwel­lings. And so ended with a deep sigh, rufully casting his eye vpon Musidorus, as more desirous of pittie thē plea­ding. But Musidorus had all this while helde his looke fixed vpon Pyrocles countenance; and with no lesse lo­uing attention marked how his words proceeded from him: but in both these he perceiued such strange diuer­sities, that they rather increased new doubts, then gaue him ground to settle any iudgement: for, besides his eyes sometimes euen great with teares, the oft chāging of his colour, with a kind of shaking vnstayednes ouer all his body, he might see in his countenāce some great determinatiō mixed with feare; and might perceiue in him store of thoughts, rather stirred then digested; his words interrupted continually with sighes (which ser­ued as a burthen to each sentence) and the tenor of his speech (though of his wōted phrase) not knit together to one constāt end, but rather dissolued in it selfe, as the vehemencie of the inwarde passion preuayled: which made Musidorus frame his aunswere neerest to that hu­mor, which should soonest put out the secret. For, ha­uing in the beginning of Pyrocles speech which defēded his solitarines, framed in his minde a replie against it, in the praise of honourable action, in shewing that such a kind of cōtēplatiō is but a glorious title to idlenes; that in actiō a man did not onely better himself, but benefit others; that the gods would not haue deliuered a soule into the body, which hath armes & legges, only instru­mēts of doing, but that it wer intēded the mind should imploy thē; & that the mind should best know his own good or euill, by practise: which knowledge was the onely way to increase the one, and correct the other: besides many other argumentes, which the plentiful­nesse of the matter yeelded to the sharpnes of his wit.[Page] When he found Pyrocles leaue that, and fall into such an affected praising of the place, he left it likewise, and ioyned with him therein: because he found him in that humor vtter more store of passion; and euen thus kind­ly embrasing him, he said: Your words are such (noble cousin) so sweetly and strongly handled in the praise of solitarinesse, as they would make me likewise yeeld my selfe vp into it, but that the same words make me know, it is more pleasant to enioy the companie of him that can speake such words, then by such wordes to be per­swaded to follow solitarines. And euen so doo I giue you leaue (sweet Pyrocles) euer to defend solitarines; so long, as to defende it, you euer keep companie. But I maruell at the excessiue praises you giue to this coun­trie; in trueth it is not vnpleasant: but yet if you would returne into Macedon, you should see either many hea­uens, or find this no more then earthly. And euē Tempe in my Thessalia, (where you & I to my great happinesse were brought vp together) is nothing inferiour vnto it. But I think you will make me see, that the vigor of your witte can shew it selfe in any subiect: or els you feede sometimes your solitarines with the conceites of the Poets, whose liberall pennes can as easilie trauaile ouer mountaines, as molehils: and so like wel disposed men, set vp euery thing to the highest note; especially, when they put such words in the mouths of one of these fan­tasticall mind-infected people, that children & Musitiās cal Louers. This word, Louer, did no lesse pearce poore Pyrocles, then the right tune of musicke toucheth him that is sick of the Tarantula. There was not one part of his body, that did not feele a sodaine motion, while his hart with panting, seemed to daunce to the sounde of[Page 71] that word; yet after some pause (lifting vp his eyes a litle from the ground, and yet not daring to place them in the eyes of Musidorus) armed with the verie coūtenance of the poore prisoner at the barr, whose aunswere is no­thing but guiltie: with much a do he brought forth this question. And alas, saide he, deare cosin, what if I be not so much the Poet (the freedome of whose penne canne exercise it selfe in any thing) as euen that mise­rable subiect of his conning, whereof you speake? Now the eternall Gods forbid (mainely cryed out Musidorus) that euer my eare should be poysoned with so euill newes of you. O let me neuer know that any base affectiō shuld get any Lordship in your thoughts. But as he was speaking more, Kalander argument key no. 3 came, and brake of their discourse, with inuiting thē to the hunting of a goodly stagge, which beeing harbored in a wood ther­by, he hoped would make them good sporte, and driue away some part of Daiphantus melancholy. They con­discended, & so going to their lodgings, furnished thē selues as liked them Daiphantus writing a fevv vvordes vvhich he left in a sealed letter against their returne.

CHAP. 10.

1 Kalanders hunting. 2 Daiphantus his close departure, 3 and letter 4 Palladius his care, and 5 quest after him, 6 accompanied with Clitophon. 7 His finding and taking on Amphilus his armor 8 Their encounter with Queene Helens attendants. 9 Her mistaking Pal­ladius.

THen went they together abroad, the good Kalander argument key no. 1 entertaining thē, with pleasaunt discoursing, howe well he loued the sporte of hunting vvhen he was a young man,[Page] how much in the comparison thereof he disdained all chamber delights; that the Sunne (how great a iornie soeuer he had to make) could neuer preuent him with earlines, nor the Moone (with her sober countenance) disswade him from watching till midnight for the deeres feeding. O, saide he, you vvill neuer liue to my age, vvithout you kepe your selues in breath vvith ex­ercise, and in hart vvith ioyfullnes: too much thinking doth consume the spirits: & oft it falles out, that vvhile one thinkes too much of his doing, he leaues to doe the effect of his thinking. Then spared he not to re­member how much Arcadia was chaunged since his youth: actiuitie & good felowship being nothing in the price it was then held in, but according to the nature of the old growing world, still worse & worse. Thē would he tell them stories of such gallaunts as he had knowen: and so with pleasant company beguiled the times hast, and shortned the wayes length, till they came to the side of the wood, where the houndes were in couples staying their comming, but with a whining Accent cra­uing libertie: many of them in colour and marks so re­sembling, that it showed they were of one kinde. The huntsmen handsomely attired in their greene li­ucries, as though they were children of Sommer, with staues in their hands to beat the guiltlesse earth, when the houndes were at a fault, and with hornes a­bout their neckes to sounde an alarum vpon a sillie fu­gitiue. The houndes were straight vncoupled, and ere long the Stagge thought it better to trust the nim­blenes of his feete, then to the slender fortification of his lodging: but euen his feete betrayed him; for how­soeuer they went, they themselues vttered themselues to the sent of their enimies; who one taking it of an[Page 40] other, and sometimes beleeuing the windes aduertise­ments, sometimes the view of (their faithfull councel­lors) the huntsmen, with open mouthes then denoun­ced warre, when the warre was alreadie begun. Their crie being composed of so well sorted mouthes, that a­ny man would perceiue therein some kind of proporti­on but the skilfull woodmen did finde a musick. Then delight and varietie of opinion drew the horsmen sun­drie wayes; yet cheering their houndes with voyce and horn, kept still (as it were) together. The wood seemed to conspire with them against his own citizens, disper­sing their noise through all his quarters; and euen the Nimph Echo left to bewayle the losse of Narcissus, and became a hunter. But the Stagge was in the end so hot­ly pursued, that (leauing his flight) he was driuen to make courage of despaire; & so turning his head, made the hounds (with change of speech) to testifie that he was at bay: as if from hotte pursuite of their enemie, they were sodainly come to a parley.

But Kalander (by his skill of coasting the Countrey) was among the first that came in to the besiged Deere; whom when some of the younger sort would haue kil­led with their swordes, he woulde not suffer: but with a Crossebowe sent a death to the poore beast, who with teares shewed the vnkindnesse he tooke of mans crueltie.

But by the time that the whole companie was assem­bled,argument key no. 2 and that the Stagge had bestowed himselfe libe­rally among them that had killed him, Daiphantus was mist, for whom Palladius carefully enquiring, no newes could be giuen him, but by one that sayd, he thought[Page] he was returned home; for that he markt him, in the chiefe of the hunting, take a by-way, which might lead to Kalanders house. That answer for the time satisfying, and they hauing perfourmed all dueties, as well for the Stagges funeral, as the hounds triumph, they returned: some talking of the fatnes of the Deeres bodie; some of the fairenes of his head; some of the hounds cunning; some of their speed; and some of their cry: til comming home (about the time that the candle begins to inherit the Suns office) they found Daiphantus was not to bee found. Whereat Palladius greatly maruailing, and a day or two passing, while neither search nor inquirie could help him to knowledge, at last he lighted vpon the let­ter, which Pyrocles had written before hee went a hun­ting, and left in his studie among other of his writings. The letter was directed to Palladius himselfe, and con­teyned these words.

argument key no. 3 My onely friend, violence of loue leades me into such a course, wherof your knowledge may much more vexe you, then help me. Therefore pardon my concea­ling it from you, since: if I wrong you, it is in respect I beare you. Returne into Thessalia, I pray you, as full of good fortune, as I am of desire: and if I liue, I will in short time follow you; if I die, loue my memorie.

argument key no. 4 This was all, and this Palladius read twise or thrise ouer. Ah (said he) Pyrocles, vvhat meanes this alteratiō? vvhat haue I deserued of thee, to be thus banished of thy counsels? Hereto fore I haue accused the sea, con­demned the Pyrats, and hated my euill fortune, that depriued me of thee; But now thy self is the sea, vvhich drounes my comfort, thy selfe is the Pirat that robbes thy selfe of me: Thy ovvne vvill becomes my euil for­tune.[Page 41] Thē turned he his thoughts to al forms of ghesses that might light vpon the purpose and course of Pyro­cles: for he was not so sure by his wordes, that it was loue, as he was doubtful where the loue was. One time he thought, some beautie in Laconia had layed hold of his eyes; an other time he feared, that it might be Par­thenias excellencie, which had broken the bands of all former resolution. But the more he thought, the more he knew not what to thinke, armies of obiections ri­sing against any accepted opinion.

Then as carefull he was what to doo himselfe: at length determined,argument key no. 5 neuer to leaue seeking him, till his search should be either by meeting accōplished, or by death ended. Therfore (for all the vnkindnesse bearing tender respect, that his friends secrete determination should be kept from any suspition in others) he went to Kalander, and told him, that he had receaued a mes­sage from his friend, by which he vnderstood he was gone backe againe into Laconia, about some matters greatly importing the poore men, whose protecti­on he had vndertaken, and that it was in any forte fit for him, to follow him, but in such priuate wise, as not to be knowne, and that therefore he would as then bid him farewell: arming him selfe in a blacke armour, as either a badge, or prognostication of his mind: and ta­king onely with him good store of monie, and a fewe choise iewels, leauing the greatest number of them, & most of his apparell with Kalander: which he did partly to giue the more cause to Kalander to expect their re­turn, & so to be the lesse curiously inquisitiue after thē: and partly to leaue those honorable thankes vnto him, for his charge & kindnes, which he knew he would no other way receaue. The good old man hauing nei­ther[Page] reason to dissuade, nor hope to persuade, recea­ued the things, with mind of a keeper, not of an owner; but before he went, desired he might haue the happi­nes, fully to know what they were: which he said, he had euer till then delaid, fearing to be any way impor­tune: but now he could not be so much an enemie to his desires as any longer to imprison thē in silence. Pal­ladius tolde him that the matter was not so secrete, but that so worthie a friend deserued the knowledge, and shuld haue it as soone as he might speak with his friēd: without whose consent (because their promise bound him otherwise) he could not reueale it: but bad him hold for most assured, that if they liued but a while, he should find that they which bare the names of Daiphā ­tus and Palladius, would giue him & his cause to thinke his noble courtesie wel imploied. Kalāder would presse him no further: but desiring that he might haue leaue to go, or at least to sende his sonne and seruaunts with him, Palladius brake of all ceremonies, by telling him; his case stood so, that his greatest fauour should be in making lest adoo of his parting. Wherewith Kalander knowing it to be more cumber then courtesie, tostriue, abstained from further vrging him, but not from hartie mourning the losse of so sweet a conuersation.

argument key no. 6 Onely Clitophon by vehement in portunitie obtey­ned to go with him, to come againe to Daiphantus, whom he named and accoūted his Lord. And in such priuate guise departed Palladius, though hauing a com­paniō to talke with all, yet talking much more with vn­kindnesse. And first they went to Mantinaea; whereof because Parthenia was, he suspected there might be some cause of his abode. But finding there no newes of him he went to Tegaea, Ripa, Enispae, Stimphalus, and[Page 42] Pheneus, famous for the poisonous Stygian water, and through all the rest of Arcadia, making their eyes, their eares, and their tongue serue almost for nothing, but that enquire. But they could know nothing but that in none of those places he was knowne. And so went they, making one place succeed to an other, in like vn­certaintie to their search, manie times encountring strange aduētures, worthy to be registred in the roulles of fame; but this may not be omitted. As they past in a pleasant valley, (of either side of which high hils lif­ted argument key no. 7 vp their beetle-browes, as if they would ouer looke the pleasantnes of their vnder-prospect) they were by the daintines of the place, & the wearines of thēselues, inuited to light frō their horses; & pulling of their bits, that they might something refresh their mouths vpon the grasse (which plentifully grewe, brought vp vnder the care of those wel shading trees,) they thēselues laid thē downe hard by the murmuring musicke of certain waters, which spouted out of the side of the hils, and in the bottome of the valley, made of many springs a pre­tie brooke, like a common-wealth of many families: but when they had a while harkened to the persuasion of sleepe, they rose, and walkt onward in that shadie place, till Clitiphon espied a peece of armour, & not far of an other peece: and so the sight of one peece teach­ing him to looke for more, he at length found all, with headpeece & shield, by the deuise whereof, which was [...] he streight knew it to be the armour of his cousin, the noble Amphialus. Wherupon (fearing some incōuenience hapned vnto him) he told both his doubte, and his cause of doubte to Palladius, who (considering therof) thought best to make no lon­ger stay, but to follow on: least perchance some violēce[Page] were offered to so worthy a Knight, whom the fame of the world seemed to set in ballance with any Knight li­uing. Yet with a sodaine conceipt, hauing long borne great honour to the name of Amphialus, Palladius thought best to take that armour, thinking thereby to learne by them that should know that armour, some newes of Amphialus, & yet not hinder him in the search of Daiphantus too. So he by the help of Clitophon quick­ly put on that armour, where of there was no one piece wanting, though hacked in some places, bewraying some fight not long since passed. It was some-thing too great, but yet serued well enough.

argument key no. 8 And so getting on their horses, they trauailed but a little way, when in opening of the mouth of the valley into a faire field, they met with a coach drawne with foure milke-white horses, furnished all in blacke, with a black a more boy vpō euery horse, they al apparelled in white, the coach it self very richly furnished in black & white. But before they could come so neere as to dis­cerne what was within, there came running vpō them aboue a dosen horsmen, who cried to thē to yeeld thē ­selues prisoners, or els they should die. But Palladius not accustomed to grant ouer the possessiō of him self vpon so vniust titles, with sword drawne gaue them so rude an answer, that diuers of thē neuer had breath to reply again: for being wel backt by Clitophon, & hauing an excellēt horse vnder him, when he was ouerprest by some, he auoided them, and ere th'other thought of it, punished in him his fellowes faults: and so, ether with cunning or with force, or rather with a cunning force, left none of them either liuing, or able to make his life serue to others hurt. Which being done, he approched the coach, assuring the black boies they should haue no[Page 43] hurt, who were els readie to haue run away, & looking into the coach, he foūd in the one end a Lady of great beautie, & such a beautie, as shewed forth the beames both of wisdome & good nature, but al as much darke­ned, as might be, with sorow. In the other, two Ladies, (who by their demeanure shewed well, they were but her seruants) holding before them a picture; in which was a goodly Gētleman (whom he knew not) painted, hauing in their faces a certaine waiting sorrow, their eies being infected with their mistres weeping.

But the chiefe Ladie hauing not so much as once argument key no. 9 heard the noise of this cōflict (so had sorow closed vpal the entries of her mind, & loue tied her fēces to that be­loued picture) now the shadow of him falling vpō the picture made her cast vp her eie, and seeing the armour which too wel she knew, thinking him to be Amphialus the Lord of her desires, (bloud cōming more freely in­to her cheekes, as though it would be bold, & yet there growing new againe pale for feare) with a pitiful looke (like one vniustly condēned) My Lord Amphialus (said she) you haue enough punished me: it is time for cruel­ty to leaue you, & euil fortune me; if not I pray you, (& to graunt, my praier fitter time nor place you can haue) accomplish the one euen now, & finish the other. With that, sorrow impatient to be slowly vttered in her oftē staying speeches, poured it self so sast in teares, that Pal­ladius could not hold her longer in errour, but pulling of his helmet, Madame (said he) I perceaue you mistake me: I am a stranger in these parts, set vpon (without any cause giuē by me) by some of your seruants, whom be­cause I haue in my iust defence euill entreated, I came to make my excuse to you, whom seing such as I doo, I find greater cause, why I should craue pardon of you.[Page] When she saw his face, & heard his speech, she looked out of the coach, and seing her men, some slaine, some lying vnder their dead horses, and striuing to get from vnder them, without making more account of the mat­ter, Truely (said she) they are well serued that durst lift vp their armes against that armour. But Sir Knight, (said she) I pray you tell me, how come you by this ar­mour? for if it be by the death of him that owed it, then haue I more to say vnto you. Palladius assured her it was not so; telling her the true manner how he found it. It is like enough (said she) for that agrees with the manner he hath lately vsed. But I beseech you Sir (said she) since your prowes hath bereft me of my cōpany: let it yet so farre heale the woundes it selfe hath giuen, as to garde me to the next towne. How great so euer my businesse be fayre Ladie (said he) it shall willingly yeeld to so noble a cause: But first euen by the fauour you beare to the Lorde of this noble ar­mour, I coniure you to tell me the storie of your for­tune herein, lest hereafter when the image of so excel­lent a Ladie in so straunge a plight come before mine eyes, I condemne my selfe of want of consideration in not hauing demaunded thus much. Neither aske I it without protestation, that wherein my sworde and faith may auaile you, they shall binde themselues to your seruice. Your coniuration, fayre Knight (said she) is too strong for my poore spirite to disobey, and that shall make me (without any other hope, my ruine be­ing but by one vnrelieueable) to graunt your wil here­in: and to say the truth, a straunge nicenesse were it in me to refraine that from the eares of a person represen­ting so much worthinesse, which I am glad euen to rockes and woods to vtter.

CHAP. 11.

1 The story of Queene Helen 2 Philoxenus her suiter 3 Am­phialus an intercessor for his friende. 4 His praises, 5 birth, and 6 education. 7 Her loue wonne to himselfe 8 His refusall and departure 9 Philoxenus wronge-rage against him. 10 Their fight. 11 The death of sonne and father. 12 Amphialus his sorrow and detestation of the Queene. 13 A new onset on Palladius for Amphi­alus his Armour: 14 whose griefe is amplified by mee­ting his dead frends dog. 15 Palladius his parting with Helen and Clitophon.

KNow you then that my name is Helen, argument key no. 1 Queene by birth: and he­therto possession of the faire Citie and territorie of Corinth. I can say no more of my selfe, but beloued of my people: and may iustly say, beloued, since they are content to beare with my absence, and folly. But I being left by my fathers death, and accepted by my people, in the highest degree, that countrie could receiue; assoone, or rather, before that my age was ripe for it; my court quickely swarmed full of suiters; some perchaunce louing my state, others my person, but once I know all of them, howsoeuer my possessions were in their harts, my beauty (such as it is) was in their mouthes; many strangers of princely and noble blood, and all of mine owne country, to whom ether birth or vertue gaue courage to avowe so high a desire.

argument key no. 2 Among the rest, or rather before the rest, was the Lord Philoxenus, sonne and heire to the vertuous noble man Timotheus: which Timotheus was a man both in power, riches, parentage, and (which passed all these) goodnes, and (which followed all these) loue of the people, beyond any of the great men of my coun­trie. Now this sonne of his I must say truly, not vnwor­thy of such a father, bending himselfe by all meanes of seruiseablenes to mee, and setting foorth of himselfe to win my fauour, wan thus farre of mee, that in truth I lesse misliked him then any of the rest: which in some proportion my countenaunce deliuered vnto him. Though I must protest it was a verie false embassadour, if it deliuered at all any affection, where of my hart was vtterly void, I as then esteeming my selfe borne to rule, & thinking foule scorne willingly to submit my selfe to be ruled.

argument key no. 3 But whiles Philoxenus in good forte pursued my fa­uour, and perchaunce nourished himselfe with ouer much hope, because he found I did in some sorte ac­knowledge his valew, one time among the rest he brought with him a deare friend of his. With that she loked vpon the picture before her, & straight sighted, & straight teares followed, as if the Idol of dutie ought to be honoured with such oblations, and thē her speach staied the tale, hauing brought her to that loke, but that looke hauing quite put her out of her tale. But Palladius greatly pitying so sweete a sorrow in a Ladie, whom by fame he had already knowen, and honoured, besought her for her promise sake, to put silence so longe vnto her moning, til she had recounted the rest of this story.

argument key no. 4 Why said she, this is the picture of Amphialus: what neede I say more to you? what eare is so barbarous but[Page 45] hath hard of Amphialus? who follows deeds of Armes, but euery where findes monumēt of Amphialus? who is courteous, noble, liberall, but he that hath the example before his eyes of Amphialus? where are all heroicall parts, but in Amphialus? O Amphialus I would thou were not so excellent, or I would I thought thee not so ex­cellent, and yet would I not, that I would so: with that she wept againe, til he againe folliciting the conclusion of her story. Then must you (said she) know the story of Amphialus: for his will is my life, his life my history: and indeed, in what can I better employ my lippes, then in speaking of Amphialus?

This knight then whose figure you see,argument key no. 5 but whose mind can be painted by nothing, but by the true shape of vertue, is brothers sonne to Basilius King of Arcadia, and in his childhood esteemed his heir: till Basilius in his olde yeeres marrying a young and a faire Lady, had of her those two daughters, so famous for their per­fection in beauty: which put by their young cosin from that expectation. Whereupon his mother (a woman of a hauty hart, being daughter to the King of Argos, ei­ther disdaining, or fearing, that her sonne should liue vnder the power of Basilius sent him to that Lorde Timotheus (betwene whom and her dead husband ther had passed streight bands of mutuall hospitality to be brought vp in company with his sonne Philoxenus?

A happie resolution for Amphialus, argument key no. 6 whose excellent nature was by this meanes trayned on with as good e­ducation, as any Princes sonne in the world could haue, which otherwise it is thought his mother (farre vnworthie of such a sonne) would not haue giuen him. The good Timotheus) no lesse louing him[Page] then his owne sonne: well they grew in yeeres; and shortly occasions fell aptly to trie Amphialus, and all occasions were but steppes for him to clime same by. Nothing was so hard, but his valour ouercame: which yet still he so guided with true vertue, that although no man was in our parts spoken of but he, for his māhood, yet, as though therein he excelled him selfe, he was cō ­monly called the courteous Amphialus. An endlesse thing it were for me to tell, how many aduentures (ter­rible to be spoken of) he atchieued: what monsters, what Giants, what conquest of countries: sometimes vsing policy, sometimes sorce, but alwaies vertue, well followed, and but followed by Philoxenus: betweene whom, and him, so fast a friendship by education was knit, that at last Philoxenus hauing no greater matter to employ his frindship in, then to winne me, therein de­sired, and had this vttermost furtheraunce: to that pur­pose brought he him to my court, where truly I may iustly witnes with him, that what his wit could con­ceiue (and his wit can conceaue as far as the limits of reason stretch) was all directed to the setting forwarde the suite of his friend Philoxenus: my eares could heare nothing from him, but touching the worthines of Philoxenus, and of the great happines it would be vnto me to haue such a husband: with many arguments, which God knowes, I cannot well remember because I did not much beleeue.

argument key no. 7 For why should I vse many circūstances to come to that where alredy I am, and euer while I liue must con­tinue? In fewe wordes, while he pleaded for an other, he wanne me for himselfe: if at least (with that she sigh­ed) he would account it a winning, for his fame had so framed the way to my mind, that his presence[Page 46] so full of beauty, sweetnes, and noble conuersation, had entred there before he vouchsafed to call for the keyes. O Lord, how did my soule hang at his lippes while he spake! O when he in feeling maner would describe the loue of his frend, how well (thought I) dooth loue be­tweene those lips! when he would with daintiest elo­quence stirre pitie in me toward Philoxenus, why sure (said I to my selfe) Helen, be not afraid, this hart cannot want pitie: and when he would extol the deeds of Phi­loxenus, who indeede had but waited of him therin, alas (thought I) good Philoxenus, how euil doth it become thy name to be subscribed to his letter? What should I say? nay, what should I not say (noble knight) who am not ashamed, nay am delighted, thus to expresse mine owne passions?

Dayes paste; his eagernes for his friende neuer de­creased,argument key no. 8 my affection to him euer increased. At length, in way of ordinarie courtesie, I obteined of him (who suspected no such matter) this his picture, the only Am­phialus, I feare that I shall euer enioy: and growen bol­der, or madder, or bould with madnes, I discouered my affection vnto him. But, Lord, I shall neuer forget, how anger and courtesie, at one instant appeared in his eyes, when he heard that motion: how with his blush he taught me shame. In summe, he left nothing vnassayed, which might disgrace himselfe, to grace his frēd; in sweet termes making me receiue a most resolute refusal of himself. But when he found that his presence did far more perswade for himselfe, then his speeche could doo for his frend, he left my court: hoping, that forgetfulnesse (which commonly waits vpon absence) woulde make roome for his friende: to whome he woulde not vtter thus much (I thinke) for a kinde[Page] feare not to grieue him, or perchance (though he cares little for me) of a certaine honorable gratefulnes, nor yet to discourse so much of my secrets: but as it should seeme, meant to trauell into farre countreyes, vntill his friends affection either ceased, or preuayled.

argument key no. 9 But within a while, Philoxenus came to see how on­ward the fruites were of his friends labour, when (as in trueth I cared not much how he tooke it) he found me sitting, beholding this picture, I know not with how af­fectionate countenāce, but I am sure with a most affec­tionate mind. I straight found ielousie and disdaine tooke hold of him: and yet the froward paine of mine owne harte made me so delight to punish him, whom I esteemed the chiefest let in my way; that when he with humble gesture, and vehement speeches, sued for my fauor; I told him, that I would heare him more willing­ly, if he would speake for Amphialus, as well as Am­phialus had done for him: he neuer answered me, but pale and quaking, went straight away; and straight my heart misgaue me some euill successe: and yet though I had authoritie inough to haue stayed him (as in these fatall things it falles out, that the hie-working powers make second causes vnwittingly accessarie to their de­terminations) I did no further but sent a foot-man of mine (whose faithfulnes to me I well knew) from place to place to follow him, and bring me word of his pro­ceedings: which (alas) haue brought foorth that which I feare I must euer rewe.

argument key no. 10 For he had trauailed scarse a dayes iorney out of my Countrey, but that (not farre from this place) he ouer­tooke Amphialus, who (by succouring a distressed La­dy) had bene here stayed: and by and by called him to[Page 47] fight with him, protesting that one of thē two should die: you may easily iudge how straunge it was to Am­phialus, whose hart could accuse it selfe of no fault, but too much affection toward him, which he (refusing to fight with him) would faine haue made Philoxenus vn­derstand, but (as my seruant since tolde me) the more Amphialus went back, the more he followed, calling him Traytor, and coward, yet neuer telling the cause of this strange alteration. Ah Philoxenus (saide Amphi­alus) I know I am no Traytor, and thou well knowest I am no coward: but I pray thee content thy selfe with this much, and let this satisfie thee, that I loue thee, since I beare thus much of thee, but he leauing words drew his sworde, and gaue Amphialus a great blow or two, which but for the goodnes of his armour would haue slaine him: and yet so farre did Amphialus con­taine himselfe, stepping aside, and saying to him, Well Philoxenus, and thus much villany am I content to put vp, not any longer for thy sake (whom I haue no cause to loue, since thou dost iniure me, and wilt not tell me the cause) but for thy vertuous fathers sake, to whom I am so much bound. I pray thee goe away, and conquer thy owne passions, and thou shalt make mesoone yeeld to be thy seruant.

But he would not attend his wordes, but still strake so fiercely at Amphialus, that in the end (nature preuai­ling aboue determination) he was faine to defend him selfe, and with-all to offend him, that by an vnluckye blow the poore Philoxenus fell dead at his feete; ha­uing had time onely to speake some wordes, whereby Amphialus knew it was for my sake: which when Am­phialus [Page] sawe, he forthwith gaue such tokens of true felt sorrow; that as my seruant said, no imagination could conceiue greater woe. But that by and by, an vnhappie occasion made Amphialus passe himselfe in sorrow: for Philoxenus was but newly dead, when there comes to the same place, the aged and vertuous Timotheus, who (hauing heard of his sonnes so daine and passionate manner of parting from my Court) had followed him as speedily as he could; but alas not so speedily, but that he foūd him dead before he could ouer take him. Thought my hart be nothing but a stage for Tragedies; yet I must confesse, it is euen vnable to beare the mi­serable representation thereof: knowing Amphialus and Timotheus as I haue done. Alas what sorrow, what a­masement, what shame was in Amphialus, when he saw his deere foster father, find him the killer of his onely sonne?argument key no. 11 In my hart I know, he wished mountaines had laine vpon him, to keepe him from that meeting. As for Timotheus, sorow of his sonne and (I thinke princi­pally) vnkindnes of Amphialus so deuoured his vitall spirits that able to say no more but Amphialus, Amphi­alus, haue I? he sancke to the earth, and presently dyed.

argument key no. 12 But not my tongue though daily vsed to complaints; no nor if my hart (which is nothing but sorrow) were turned to tonges, durst it vnder-take to shew the vn­speakeablenes of his griefe. But (because this serues to make you know my fortune,) he threw away his ar­mour, euen this which you haue now vpon you, which at the first fight I vainely hoped, he had put on againe; and thē (as ashamed of the light) he ranne into the thickest of the woods, lamēting, & euen crying out so pityfully, that my seruant, (though of a fortune[Page 48] not vsed to much tendernes) could not refraine wee­ping when he tolde it me. He once ouertooke him, but Amphialus drawing his sword, which was the only part of his armes (God knowes to what purpose) he caried about him, threatned to kill him if he folowed him, and withall, bad him deliuer this bitter message, that he wel inough foūd, I was the cause of al this mischiefe: & that if I were a man, he would go ouer the world to kill me: but bad me assure my selfe, that of all creatures in the world, he most hated me. Ah Sir knight (whose eares I think by this time are tyred with the rugged wayes of these misfortunes) now way my case, if at lest you know what loue is. For this cause haue I left my country, put­ting in hazard how my people wil in time deale by me, aduēturing what perils or dishonors might ensue, only to folow him, who proclaimeth hate against me, and to bring my neck vnto him, if that may redeem my trespas & assuage his fury. And now sir (said she) you haue your request, I pray you take paines to guide me to the next town, that there I may gather such of my company a­gaine, as your valor hath left me. Palladius willingly cō ­discēded: but ere they began to go, there cam Clitophon, who hauing bene something hurt by one of them, had pursued him a good way: at length ouertaking him, & ready to kill him, vnderstood they were seruants to the faire Queene Helen, and that the cause of this enterprise was for nothing, but to make Amphialus prisoner, whō they knew their mistresse sought; for she concealed her sorow, nor cause of her sorow from no body.

But Clitophon (very sorie for this accident) came back argument key no. 13 to comfort the Queene, helping such as were hurt, in the best sort that he could, & framing frēdly cōstructiōs[Page] of this rashly vndertaken enmitie, when in comes ano­ther (till that time vnseene) all armed, with his beuer downe, who first looking round about vpon the com­panie, as soone as he spied Palladius, he drew his sword, and making no other prologue, let flie at him. But Pal­ladius (sorie for so much harm as had already happened) sought rather to retire, and warde, thinking he might be some one that belonged to the faire Queene, whose case in his harte he pitied. Which Clitophon seeing, stept betweene them, asking the new come knight the cause of his quarrell; who answered him, that he woulde kill that theese, who had stollen away his masters armour, if he did not restore it. With that Palladius lookt vpon him, and sawe that he of the other side had Palladius owne armour vpon him: truely (said Palladius) if I haue stolne this armour, you did not buy that: but you shall not fight with me vpon such a quarrell, you shall haue this armour willingly, which I did onely put on to doo honor to the owner. But Clitophon straight knewe by his words and voyce, that it was Ismenus, the faithfull & diligent Page of Amphialus: and therefore telling him that he was Clitophon, and willing him to acknowledge his error to the other, who deserued all honour, the yong Gentleman pulled of his head-peece, and (ligh­ting) went to kisse Palladius hands; desiring him to par­don his follie, caused by extreame griefe, which easilie might bring foorth anger. Sweete Gentleman (saide Palladius) you shall onely make me this amendes, that you shal cary this your Lords armour from me to him, and tell him from an vnknowen knight (who admires his worthines) that he cannot cast a greater miste ouer his glory, thē by being vnkind to so excellēt a princesse[Page 49] as this Queene is. Ismenus promised he would, as soone as he durst find his maister: and with that went to doo his dutie to the Queene, whom in all these encounters astonishment made hardy; but assoone as she saw Isme­nus (looking to her picture) Ismenus (said she) here is my Lord, where is yours? or come you to bring me some sentence of death from him? if it be so, welcome be it. I pray you speake; and speake quickly. Alas Ma­dame, said Ismenus, I haue lost my Lorde, (with that teares came vnto his eyes) for assoone as the vnhappie combate was concluded with the death both of father and sonne, my maister casting of his armour, went his way: forbidding me vpō paine of death to follow him.

Yet diuers daies I followed his steppes; argument key no. 14 till lastly I found him, hauing newly met with an excellent Spa­niel, belonging to his dead companion Philoxenus. The dog streight fawned on my master for old knowledge: but neuer was there thing more pittifull then to heare my maister blame the dog for louing his maisters mur­therer, renewing a fresh his cōplaints, with the dumbe counceller, as if they might cōfort one another in their miseries. But my Lord hauing spied me, rase vp in such rage, that in truth I feared he would kill me: yet as then he said onely, if I would not displease him, I should not come neere him till he sent for me: too hard a cōmaun­dement for me to disobey: I yeelded, leauing him one­ly waited on by his dog, and as I thinke seeking out the most solitarie places, that this or any other country can graunt him: and I returning where I had left his ar­mour, found an other in steed thereof, & (disdaining I must confesse that any should beare the armour of the best Knight liuing) armed my selfe therein to play the[Page] foole, as euē now I did. Faire Ismenus (said the Queen) a sitter messenger could hardly be to vnfold my Trage­die: I see the end, I see my ende.

argument key no. 15 With that (sobbing) she desired to be conducted to the next towne, where Palladius left her to be waited on by Clitophon, at Palladius earnest entreatie, who desi­red alone to take that melancholy course of seeking his friend: & therefore changing armours again with Isme­nus (who went withal to a castle belonging to his ma­ster) he cōtinued his quest for his friend Daiphantus.

CHAP. 12.

1 Palladius after long search of Daiphantus, lighteth on an Amazon Ladie. 2 Her habite, 3 song, 4 and who she was. 5 Obiections of the one against women, and loue of them. 6 The answeres of the other for them both. 7 Their passionate conclusion in relenting kindnesse.

argument key no. 1 SO directed he his course to Laco­nia, aswell among the Helots, as Spartans. There indeed he found his fame flourishing, his monu­ment engraued in Marble, and yet more durable in mens memories; but the vniuersall lamenting his absented presence, assured him of his present absence. Thence into the Elean prouince, to see whether at the Olympian games (there celebra­ted) he might in such concourse blesse his eyes with so desired an encounter: but that huge and sportfull assemblie grewe to him a tedious lonelinesse, estee­ming[Page 50] no bodie founde, since Daiphantus was lost. Af­terward he passed through Achaia and Sicyonia, to the Corinthians, prowde of their two Seas, to learne whe­ther by the streight of that Isthmus, it was possible to know of his passage. But finding euerie place more dumbe then other to his demaunds, and remembring that it was late-taken loue, which had wrought this new course, he returned againe (after two months tra­uaile in vaine) to make freshe searche in Arcadia; so much the more, as then first he bethought him selfe of the picture of Philoclea (in resembling her he had once loued) might perhaps awake againe that sleeping pas­sion. And hauing alreadie past ouer the greatest part of Arcadia, one day comming vnder the side of the pleasaunt mountaine Moenalus, his horse (nothing guiltie of his inquisitiuenesse) with flat tiring taught him, that discrete stayes make speedie iourneis. And therefore lighting downe, and vnbrideling his horse, he him selfe went to repose him selfe in a little wood he sawe thereby. Where lying vnder the protection of a shadie tree, with intention to make forgetting sleepe comfort a sorrowfull memorie, he sawe a sight which perswaded, and obteyned of his eyes, that they would abide yet a while open. It was the appearing of a Ladie, who because she walked with her side toward him, he could not perfectly, see her face; but so much he might see of her, that was a suretie for the rest, that all was excellent.

Well might he perceaue the hanging of her haire in argument key no. 2 fairest quātitie, in locks, some curled, & some as it were forgotten, with such a carelesse care, & an arte so hiding arte, that she seemed she would lay them for a paterne,[Page] whether nature simply, or nature helped by cunning, be more excellent: the rest whereof was drawne into a coronet of golde richly set with pearle, and so ioyned all ouer with gold wiers, and couered with feathers of diuers colours, that it was not vnlike to an helmet, such a glittering shew it bare, & so brauely it was held vp frō the head. Vpon her bodie she ware a doublet of skie colour sattin, couered with plates of gold, & as it were nailed with pretious stones, that in it she might seeme armed; the nether parts of her garment was so full of stuffe, & cut after such a fashion, that though the length of it reached to the ankles, yet in her going one might sometimes discerne the smal of her leg, which with the foot was dressed in a short paire of crimson veluet bus­kins, in some places open (as the ancient manner was) to shew the fairenes of the skin. Ouer all this she ware a certaine mantell, made in such manner, that comming vnder the right arme, and couering most of that side, it had no fastning of the left side, but onely vpon the top of the shoulder: where the two endes met, and were closed together with a very riche iewell: the deuise wherof (as he after saw) was this: a Hercules made in lit­tle fourme, but a distasseset within his hand as he once was by Omphales commaundement with a worde in Greeke, but thus to be interpreted, Neuer more va­liant. On the same side, on her thigh shee ware a sword, which as it witnessed her to be an Amazon, or one following that profession, so it seemed but a need­les weapon, since her other forces were without with­standing. But this Ladie walked out-right, till he might see her enter into a fine close arbour: it was of trees whose branches so louingly interlaced one the other;[Page 51] that it could resist the strōgest violence of eye-sight; but she went into it by a doore she opened; which moued him as warely as he could to follow her, and by and by he might heare her sing this song, with a voice no lesse beautifull to his eares, then her goodlinesse was full of harmonie to his eyes.

TRansformd in shew, but more transformd in minde,argument key no. 3
I cease to striue with double conquest soild:
For (woe is me) my powers all I finde
With outward force, and inward treason spoild.
For from without came to mine eyes the blowe,
Whereto mine inward thoughts did saintly yeeld;
Both these conspird poore Reasons ouerthrowe;
False in my selfe, thus haue I lost the field.
Thus are my eyes still Captiue to one sight:
Thus all my thouhts are slaues to one thought still:
Thus Reason to his seruants yeelds his right;
Thus is my power transformed to your will.
What maruaile then I take a womans hew,
Since what I see, thinke, know is all but you?

The dittie gaue him some suspition, but the voice argument key no. 4 gaue him almost assurance, who the singer was. And therefore boldly thrusting open the dore, and entring into the arbour, he perceaued in deed that it was Pyro­cles thus disguised, wherewith not receauing so much ioy to haue found him, as griese so to haue found him, amazedly looking vpon him (as Apollo is painted when he saw Daphne sodainly turned into a Laurell) he was[Page] not able to bring forth a worde. So that Pyrocles (who had as much shame, as Musidorus had sorrow) rising to him, would haue formed a substantiall excuse; but his insinuation being of blushinge, and his diuision of sighes, his whole oration stood vpon a short narration, what was the causer of this Metamorphosis? But by that time Musidorus had gathered his spirites together, and yet casting a gastfull countenaunce vpon him (as if he would coniure some strange spirits) he thus spake vnto him.

argument key no. 5 And is it possible, that this is Pyrocles, the onely yong Prince in the world, formed by nature, and framed by education, to the true exercise of vertue? or is it indeed some Amazon that hath counterfeited the face of my friend, in this sort to vexe me? for likelier sure I would haue thought it, that any outwarde face might haue bene disguised, then that the face of so excellēt a mind coulde haue bene thus blemished. O sweete Pyro­cles, separate your selfe a little (if it be possible) from your selfe, and let your owne minde looke vpon your owne proceedings: so shall my wordes be needlesse, and you best instructed. See with your selfe, how sitt it will be for you in this your tender youth, borne so great a Prince, and of so rare, not onely expecta­tion, but proofe, desired of your olde Father, and wanted of your natiue countrie, now so neere your home, to diuert your thoughts from the way of good­nesse; to loose, nay to abuse your time. Lastly to ouer­throw all the excellent things you haue done, which haue filled the world with your same; as if you should drowne your ship in the long desired hauen, or like an ill player, should marre the last act of his Tragedie.[Page 52] Remember (for I know you know it) that if we wil be men, the reasonable parte of our soule, is to haue absolute commaundement; against which if any sen­suall weaknes arise, we are to yeelde all our sounde forces to the ouerthrowing of so vnnaturall a rebel­lion, wherein how can we wante courage, since we are to deale against so weake an aduersary, that in it selfe is nothinge but weakenesse? Nay we are to re­solue, that if reason direct it, we must doo it, and if we must doo it, we will doo it; for to say I cannot, is chil­dish, and I will not, womanish. And see how extreme­ly euery waye you endaunger your minde; for to take this womannish habit (without you frame your behauiour accordingly) is wholy vaine: your beha­uiour can neuer come kindely from you, but as the minde is proportioned vnto it. So that you must re­solue, if you will playe your parte to any purpose, whatsoeuer peeuish affections are in that sexe, soften your hart to receiue them, the very first downe-steppe to all wickednes: for doo not deceiue your selfe, my deere cosin, there is no man sodainely excellentlie good, or extremely euill, but growes either as hee holdes himselfe vp in vertue, or lets himself slide to vi­tiousnes. And let vs see, what power is the aucthor of all these troubles: forsooth loue, loue, a passion, and the basest and fruitlessest of all passions: feare breedeth wit, Anger is the cradle of courage: ioy openeth and enhableth the hart: sorrow, as it closeth, so it draweth it inwarde to looke to the correcting of it selfe; and so all generally haue power towards some good by the direction of right Reason. But this bastarde Loue (for in deede the name of Loue is most vnworthylie[Page] applie to so hatefull a humour) as it is engendered be­twixt lust and idlenes; as the matter it workes vpon is nothing, but a certaine base weakenes, which some gentle sooles call a gentle hart; as his adioyned compa­nions be vnquietnes, longings, fond comforts, saint discomforts, hopes, ielousies, vngrounded rages, caus­lesse yeeldings; so is the hiest ende it aspires vnto, a litle pleasure with much paine before, and great repen­taunce after. But that end how endlesse it runs to infi­nite euils, were fit inough for the matter we speake of, but not for your eares, in whome indeede there is so much true disposition to vertue: yet thus much of his worthie effects in your selfe is to be seen, that (besides your breaking lawes of hospitality with Kalander and of friendship with me) it vtterly subuerts the course of nature, in making reason giue place to sense, & man to woman. And truely I thinke heere-vpon it first gatte the name of Loue: for indeede the true loue hath that excellent nature in it, that it doth transform the very effence of the louer into the thing loued, vniting, and as it were incorporating it with a secret & inward wor­king. And herein do these kindes of loue imitate the excellent; for as the loue of heauen makes one heauen­ly, the loue of vertue, vertuous; so doth the loue of the world make one become wordly, and this effemi­nate loue of a woman, doth so womanish a man, that (if he yeeld to it) it will not onely make him an Ama­zon; but a launder, a distass-spinner; or what so euer O­ther vile occupation their idle heads cā imagin, & their weake hands performe. Therefore (to trouble you no longer with my tedious but louing words) if either you remember what you are, what you haue bene, or[Page 53] what you must be: if you cōfider what it is, that moued you, or by what kinde of creature you are moued, you shall finde the cause so small, the effect so daungerous, your selfe so vnworthie to runne into the one, or to be driuē by the other, that I doubt not I shall quickly haue occasion rather to praise you for hauing conquered it, then to giue you further counsell, how to doo it.

But in Pyrocles this speech wrought no more, but argument key no. 6 that he, who before he was espied, was afraid; after, be­ing perceiued, was ashamed, now being hardly rubd vpon, leste both feare and shame, and was moued to anger. But the exceeding good will he bare to Musido­rus striuing with it, he thus, partely to satisfie him, but principally to loose the reines to his owne motions, made him answere. Cosin, whatsoeuer good disposition nature hath bestowed vpon me, or howsoeuer that dis­position hath bene by bringing vp cōfirmed, this must I confesse, that I am not yet come to that degree of wis­dome, to thinke light of the sexe, of whom I haue my life; since if I be any thing (which your friendship rather finds, thē I acknowledge) I was to come to it, born of a womā, & nursed of a womā. And certēly (for this point of your speach doth neerest touch me) it is strāge to see the vnman-like cruelty of mākind; who not cōtent with their tyrānous ābition, to haue brought the others ver­tuous patience vnder them (like to childish maisters) thinke their masterhood nothing, without doing in­iniury to them, who (if we will argue by reason) are framed of nature with the same parts of the minde for the exercise of vertue, as we are. And for example, euen this estate of Amazons, (which I now for my greatest honor do seek to counterfaite) doth well witnes, that if generally the swetnes of their dispositiōs did not make[Page] them see the vainnesse of these thinges, which we ac­cōpt glorious, they nether want valor of mind, nor yet doth their fairnes take away their force. And truely we men, and praisers of men, should remember, that if we haue such excellēcies, it is reason to thinke them excel­lent creatures, of whom we are: since a Kite neuer brought forth a good flying Hauke. But to tel you true, as I thinke it superfluous to vse any wordes of such a subiect, which is so praised in it selfe, as it needes no praises; so withall I feare left my conceate (not able to reach vnto them) bring forth wordes, which for their vnworthines may be a disgrace vnto thē I so inwardly honor. Let this suffice, that they are capable of vertue: & vertue (ye your selues say) is to be loued, & I too tru­ly: but this I willingly cōfesse, that it likes me much bet­ter, when I finde vertue in a faire lodging, then when I am bound to seeke it in an ill fauoured creature, like a pearle in a dounghill. As for my fault of being an vn­ciuill guest to Kalander, if you could feele what an in­ward guest my selfe am host vnto: ye would thinke it very excuseable, in that I rather performe the dueties of an host, then the ceremonies of a guest. And for my breaking the lawes of friendshippe with you, (which I would rather dye, then effectually doo) truely, I could finde in my hart to aske you pardon for it, but that your handling of me giues me reason to my former dea­ling. And here Pyrocles stayed, as to breath himselfe, hauing bene transported with a litle vehemency, be­cause it seemed him Musidorus had ouer-bitterly glaun­sed against the reputation of woman-kinde: but then quieting his countenance (aswell as out of an vnquiet mind it might be) he thus procèeded on: And poore[Page 54] Loue (said he) deare cosin, is little beholding vnto you, since you are not contented to spoile it of the honor of the highest power of the mind, which notable mē haue attributed vnto it; but ye deiect it below all other passi­ons, in trueth somewhat strangely; since, if loue receiue any disgrace, it is by the company of these passions you preferre before it. For those kinds of bitter obiections (as, that lust, idlenes, and a weak harte, should be, as it were, the matter and forme of loue) rather touch me, deare Musidorus, then loue: But I am good witnesse of mine own imperfections, & therefore will not defende my selfe: but herein I must say, you deale contrary to your self: for if I be so weak, then can you not with rea­son stir me vp as ye did, by remēbrance of my own ver­tue: or if indeed I be vertuous, thē must ye cōfeffe, that loue hath his working in a vertuous hart: & so no dout hath it, whatsoeuer I be: for if we loue vertue, in whom shal we loue it but in a vertuous creature: without your meaning be, I should loue this word vertue, where I see it written in a book. Those troblesome effects you say it breedes, be not the faults of loue, but of him that loues; as an vnable vessel to beare such a licour: like euill eyes, not able to look on the Sun; or like an ill braine, soonest ouerthrowē with best wine. Euen that heauenly loue you speake of, is accōpanied in some harts with hopes, griefs, longings, & dispaires. And in that heauēly loue, since ther are two parts, the one the loue it self, th' other the excellencey of the thing loued; I, not able at the first leap to frame both in me, do now (like a diligent work­man) make ready the chiefe instrument, and first part of that great worke, which is loue itself; which whē I haue a while practised in this sort, then you shall see me turn[Page] it to greater matters. And thus gently you may (if it please you) think of me. Neither doubt ye, because I weare a womans apparell, I will be the more woman­nish, since, I assure you (for all my apparrel) there is no­thing I desire more, then fully to proue my selfe a man in this enterprise. Much might be said in my defence, much more for loue, and most of all for that diuine cre­ature, which hath ioyned me and loue together. But these disputations are fitter for quiet schooles, then my troubled braines, which are bent rather in deeds to per­forme, then in wordes to defende the noble desire which possesseth me. O Lord (saide Musidorus) how sharp-witted you are to hurt your selfe? No (answered he) but it is the hurt you speake of, which makes me so sharp-witted. Euen so (said Musidorus) as euery base oc­cupation makes one sharp in that practise, and foolish in all the rest. Nay rather (answered Pyrocles) as each ex­cellent thing once well learned, serues for a measure of all other knowledges. And is that become (said Musi­dorus) a measure for other things, which neuer receiued measure in it selfe? It is counted without measure (an­swered Pyrocles,) because the workings of it are without measure: but otherwise, in nature it hath measure, since it hath an end allotted vnto it. The beginning be­ing so excellent, I would gladly know the end. Enioy­ing, answered Pyrocles, with a great sigh. O (said Musido­rus) now set ye foorth the basenes of it: since if it ende in enioying, it shewes all the rest was nothing. Ye mi­stake me (answered Pyrocles) I spake of the end to which it is directed; which end ends not, no sooner then the life. Alas, let your owne braine dis-enchaunt you (said Musidorus.) My hart is too farre possessed (said Pyrocles.)[Page 55] But the head giues you direction. And the hart giues me life; aunswered Pyrocles.

But Musidorus was so greeued to see his welbeloued argument key no. 7 friend obstinat, as he thought, to his owne destruction, that it forced him with more then accustomed vehe­mency, to speake these words; Well, well, (saide he) you list to abuse your selfe; it was a very white and red vertue, which you could pick out of a painterly glosse of visage: Confesse the truth; and ye shall finde, the vtmost was but beautie; a thing, which though it be in as great excellencye in your selfe as may be in any, yet I am sure you make no further reckning of it, then of an outward fading benefite Nature bestowed vpon you. And yet such is your want of a true grounded vertue, which must be like it selfe in all points, that what you wisely account a trifle in your selfe, you fondly become a flaue vnto in another. For my part I now protest, I haue left nothing vnfaid, which my wit could make me know, or my most entier friendship to you requires of me; I do now besech you euen for the loue betwixt vs (if this other loue haue left any in you towards me) and for the remembraunce of your olde careful father (if you can remēber him that forget your self) lastly for Pyrocles owne sake (who is now vpon the point of fal­ling or rising) to purge yourselfe of this vile infection; other wife giue me leaue, to leaue of this name of friendship, as an idle title of a thing which cannot be, wherevertue is abolished. The length of these speaches before had not so much cloied Pyrocles, though he were very vnpatient of long deliberations, as the last farewel of him he loued as his owne life, did wound his soule, thinking him selfe afflicted, he was the apter to con­ceiue[Page] vnkindnesse deepely: insomuch, that shaking his head, and deliuering some shewe of teares, he thus vttered his griefes. Alas (said he) prince Musidorus, how cruelly you deale with me; if you seeke the victory, take it; and if ye liste, triumph. Haue you all the reason of the world, and with me remaine all the imperfections; yet such as I can no more lay from me, then the Crow can be perswaded by the Swanne to cast of all his black fethers. But truely you deale with me like a Phisition, that seeing his patient in a pestilent feuer, should chide him, in steede of ministring helpe, and bid him be sick no more; or rather like such a friend, that visiting his friend condemned to perpectuall prison; and loaden with greeuous fetters, should will him to shake of his fetters, or he wuld leaue him. I am sicke, & sicke to the death; I am a prisoner, neither is any redresse, but by her to whom I am slaue. Now if you list to leaue him that loues you in the hiest degree: But remember euer to cary this with you, that you abandon your friend in his greatest extremity.

And herewith the deepe wound of his loue be­ing rubbed afresh with this new vnkindnes, begā (as it were) to bleed again, in such fort that he was not hable to beare it any longer, but gushing out aboundance of teares, and crossing his armes ouer his woefull hart, as if his teares had beene out-flowing blood, his armes an ouer-pressing burthen, he suncke downe to the ground, which sodaine traunce went so to the hart of Musidorus that falling down by him & kissing the we­ping eyes of his friend, he besought him not to make account of his speach; which if it had bene ouer vehe­ment,[Page 56] yet was it to be borne withall, because it came out of a loue much more vehement; that he had not thought fancie could haue receiued so deep a wound: but now finding in him the force of it, hee woulde no further contrary it; but imploy all his seruice to medicine it, in such fort, as the nature of it required. But euen this kindnes made Pyrocles the more melte in the former vnkindnes, which his manlike teares well shewed, with a silent look vpō Musidorus, as who should say, And is it possible that Musidorus should threaten to leaue me? And this strooke Musidorus minde and senses so dumbe too, that for griefe being not able to say any thing, they rested, with their eyes placed one vpon an­other, in such sort, as might well paint out the true pas­sion of vnkindnes to be neuer aright, but betwixt them that most dearely loue.

And thus remayned they a time; till at length, Musi­dorus embrasing him, said, And will you thus shake of your friend? It is you that shake me of (saide Pyrocles) being for my vnperfectnes vnworthie of your friend­shippe. But this (said Musidorus) shewes you more vn­perfect, to be cruell to him, that submits himselfe vnto you; but since you are vnperfect (said he smiling) it is reason you be gouerned by vs wise and perfect men. And that authoritie will I beginne to take vpon me, with three absolute cōmandements: The first, that you increase not your euill with further griefes: the second, that you loue her with all the powers of your mind: & the last cōmandemēt shalbe, ye cōmand me to do what seruice I can, towards the attaining of your desires. Py­rocles hart was not so oppressed with the mighty passiōs[Page] of loue and vnkindnes, but that it yeelded to some mirth at this commaundement of Musidorus, that he should loue: so that something cleering his face from his former shewes of griefe; Wel (said he) deare cousin, I see by the well choosing of your commandementes, that you are fitter to be a Prince, then a Counseller: and therfore I am resolued to imploy all my endeuour to o­bey you; with this condition, that the comandementes ye commaund me to lay vpon you, shall onely be, that you continue to loue me, and looke vpon my imperfe­ctions, with more affection then iudgemēt. Loue you? (said he) alas, how can my hart be seperated from the true imbrasing of it, without it burst, by being too full of it? But (said he) let vs leaue of these flowers of newe begun frendship: and now I pray you againe tel me; but tell it me fully, omitting no circumstance, the storie of your affections both beginning, and proceeding: assu­ring your selfe, that there is nothing so great, which I will feare to doo for you: nor nothing so small, which I will disdaine to doo for you. Let me therfore receiue a cleere vnderstāding, which many times we misse, while those things we account small, as a speech, or a look are omitted, like as a whole sentence may faile of his con­gruitie, by wanting one particle. Therefore betweene frends, all must be layd open, nothing being superflu­ous, nor tedious. You shalbe obeyed (said Pyrocles) and here are we in as fitte a place for it as may be; for this ar­bor no body offers to come into but my selfe; I vsing it as my melancholy retiring place, and therefore that respect is born vnto it; yet if by chāce any should come, say that you are a seruant sent from the Q. of the Ama­zons to seeke me, and then let me alone for the rest. So fate they downe, and Pyrocles thus said.

CHAP. 13.

1 How Pyrocles fell in loue with Philoclea. 2 His counsell and course therein. 3 His disguising into Zelmane. 4 Her meeting with Damaetas, 5 Basilius, 6 the Queene and her daughters, & their speaches. 7 Her abode there ouer entreated; 8 and the place thereof described.

COusin (saide hee) then began the argument key no. 1 fatall ouerthrowe of all my li­bertie, when walking among the pictures in Kalanders house, you your selfe deliuered vnto mee what you had vnderstood of Phi­loclea, who muche resembling (though I must say much surpas­sing) the Ladie Zelmane, whom too well I loued: there were mine eyes infected, & at your mouth did I drinke my poison. Yet alas so sweete was it vnto me, that I could not be contented, til Kalander had made it more and more strong with his declaratiō. Which the more I questioned, the more pittie I conceaued of her vn­worthie fortune: and when with pittie once my harte was made tender, according to the aptnesse of the humour, it receaued quickly a cruell impression of that wonderful passiō which to be definde is impossible, be­cause no wordes reach to the strange nature of it: they onely know it, which inwardly feele it, it is called loue. Yet did I not (poore wretch) at first know my disease, thinking it onely such a woonted kind of desire, to see rare sights; & my pitie to be no other, but the fruits of a[Page] gentle nature. But euē this arguing with my selfe came of further thoughts; & the more I argued, the more my thoughts encreased. Desirous I was to see the place where she remained, as though the Architecture of the lodges would haue bene much for my learning; but more desirous to see her selfe, to be iudge, forsooth, of the painters cūning. For thus at the first did I flatter my selfe, as though my wound had bene no deeper: but when within short time I came to the degree of vncer­taine wishes, and that the wishes grew to vnquiet lon­gings, when I could fix my thoughts vpō nothing, but that within little varying, they should end with Philo­clea: when each thing I saw, seemed to figure out some parts of my passions; whē euen Parthenias faire face be­came a lecture to me of Philocleas imagined beautie; when I heard no word spoken, but that me thought it caried the sum of Philocleas name: then indeed, then I did yeeld to the burthen, finding my selfe prisoner, be­fore I had leasure to arme my selfe; & that I might well, like the spaniel, gnaw vpon the chaine that ties him, but I should sooner marre my teeth, then procure liberty.

argument key no. 2 Yet I take to witnesse the eternall spring of vertue, that I had neuer read, heard, nor seene any thing; I had neuer any tast of Philosophy, nor inward feeling in my selfe, which for a while I did not call for my succour. But (alas) what resistance was there, when ere long my very reason was (you will say corrupted) I must needs confesse, conquered; and that me thought euen reason did assure me, that all eies did degenerate from their creation, which did not honour such beautie? No­thing in trueth could holde any plea with it, but the reuerent friendship I bare vnto you. For as it went[Page 58] against my harte to breake any way from you, so did I feare more then anie assault to breake it to you: finding (as it is indeed) that to a hart fully resolute, counsaile is tedious, but reprehension is lothsome: & that there is nothing more terrible to a guilty hart, then the eie of a respected friēd. This made me determine with my self, (thinking it a lesse fault in friēdship to do a thing with­out your knowledge, then against your wil) to take this secret course: Which conceit was most builded vp in me, the last day of my parting and speaking with you; whē vpō your speach with me, & my but naming loue, (when els perchaūce I would haue gone further) I saw your voice & coūtenance so chaunge, as it assured me, my reuealing it should but purchase your griese with my cumber: & therfore (deere Musidorus) euē ran away frō thy wel knowne chiding: for hauing writtē a letter, which I know not whether you found or no, & taking my chiefe iewels with me, while you were in the mid­dest of your sport, I got a time (as I think) vnmarked, to steale away, I cared not whether so I might scape you: & so came I to Ithonia in the prouince of Messenia; wher lying secret I put this in practise which before I had de­uised. For remēbring by Philanax his letter, & Kaladers speech, how obstinately Basilius was determined not to argument key no. 3 mary his daughters, & therfore fearing, left any publike dealing should rather increase her captiuitie, then fur­ther my loue; Loue (the refiner of inuentiō) had put in my head thus to disguise my self, that vnder that maske I might (if it were possible,) get accesse, and what ac­cesse could bring forth, commit to fortune & industry: determining to beare the countenance of an Amazon. Therfore in the closest maner I could, naming my selfe[Page] Zelmane, for that deere Ladies sake, to whose memorie I am so much bound, I caused this apparell to be made, and bringing it necre the lodges, which are harde at hand, by night, thus dressed my selfe, resting till occa­sion might make me found by them, whom I sought: which the next morning hapned as well, as my owne plot could haue laide it. For after I had runne ouer the whole petigree of my thoughts, I gaue my selfe to sing a little, which as you know I euer delighted in, so now especially, whether it be the nature of this clime to stir vp Poeticall fancies, or rather as I think, of Loue; whose scope being pleasure, will not so much as vtter his griefes, but in some forme of pleasure.

argument key no. 4 But I had song very little, when (as I thinke displea­sed with my bad musike) comes master Dametas with a hedging bill in his hand, chasing, and swearing by the pātable of Pallas, & such other othes as his rusticall bra­uery could imagine; & whē he saw me, I assure you my beauty was no more beholding to him thē my harmo­ny; for leaning his hands vpon his bil, & his chin vpon his hāds, with the voice of one that plaieth Hercules in a play, but neuer had his fancie in his head, the first word he spake to me, was, Am not I Dametas? why, am not I Dametas? He needed not name him selfe: for Ka­landers description had set such a note vpō him, as made him very notable vnto me, and therefore the height of my thoughts would not discend so much as to make him any answer, but continued on my inward discour­ses: which (he perchaunce witnes of his owne vnwor­thines, & therefore the apter to thinke him selfe contē ­ned) tooke in so hainous manner, that standing vpō his tip-toes, and staring as though he would haue a more[Page 59] pulled out of his eie, Why (said he) thou womā, or boy, or both, what soeuer thou be, I tell thee here is no place for thee, get thee gone, I tell thee it is the Princes pleasure, I tell thee it is Dametas pleasure.argument key no. 5 I could not choose, but smile at him, seeing him looke so like an Ape that had newly taken a purgation; yet taking my selfe with the maner, spake these wordes to my selfe: O spirite (saide I) of mine, how canst thou receaue a­nie mirth in the midst of thine agonies, and thou mirth how darest thou enter into a minde so growne of late thy professed enemie? Thy spirite (saide Dametas) doost thou thinke me a spirite, I tell thee I am Basi­lius officer, and haue charge of him, and his daugh­ters. O onely pearle (said I sobbing) that so vile an oyster should keepe thee? By the combe-case of Diana (sware Dametas) this woman is mad: oysters, and pearles? doost thou thinke I will buie oysters? I tell thee once againe get thee packing, and with that lifted vp his bill to hit me with the blunt ende of it: but in­deede that put me quite out of my lesson, so that I for­gat al Zelmanes-ship, and drawing out my sworde, the basenesse of the villaine yet made me stay my hande, and he (who, as Kalander tolde me, from his childe­hood euer feared the blade of a sworde) ran backe, backward (with his hands aboue his head) at lest twen­tie paces, gaping and staring, with the verie grace (I thinke) of the clownes, that by Latonas prayers were turned into Frogs. At length staying, finding him­selfe without the compasse of blowes, he fell to a fresh scolding, in such mannerlie manner, as might well shewe he had passed through the discipline of a Ta­uerne. But seeing me walke vp and downe, without[Page] marking what he saide, he went his way (as I perceiued after) to Basilius: for within a while he came vnto mee, bearing in deed shewes in his countenaunce of an ho­nest and well-minded gentleman, and with as much courtesie, as Dametas with rudenesse saluting me, Faire Lady (saide he) it is nothing strange, that such a solitary place as this should receiue solitary persons; but much do I maruaile, how such a beauty as yours is, should be suffered to be thus alone. I (that now knew it was my part to play) looking with a graue maiestie vpon him, as if I found in my selfe cause to be reuerenced. They are neuer alone (saide I) that are accompanied with noble thoughts. But those thoughts (replied Basilius) cānot in this your lonelines neither warrant you from suspition in others, nor defend you from melancholy in your selfe. I then shewing a mislike that he pressed me so farre, I seeke no better warraunt (saide I) then my owne conscience, nor no greater pleasures, then mine owne contentation. Yet vertue seekes to satisfie others, (saide Basilius.) Those that be good (saide I,) and they wil be satisfied as long as they see no euill. Yet will the best in this country, (said Basilius) suspect so excel­lent a beauty being so weakely garded. Then are the best but starke nought, (aunswered I) for open sus­pecting others, comes of secrete condemning them­selues; But in my countrie (whose manners I am in all places to maintaine and reuerence) the generall good­nes (which is nourished in our harts) makes euery one thinke the strength of vertue in an other, where of they finde the assured foundation in themselues. Ex­cellent Ladie (said he) you praise so greatly, (and yet so wisely) your coūtry, that I must needes desire to know what the nest is, out of which such Byrds doo flye.

You must first deserue it (said I) before you may ob­taine it. And by what meanes (saide Basilius) shall I de­serue to know your estate? By letting me first knowe yours (aunswered I.) To obey you (said he) I will doe it, although it were so much more reason, yours should be knowen first, as you doo deserue in all points to be preferd. Know you (faire Lady) that my name is Basili­us, vnworthily Lord of this coūtry: the rest, either fame hath brought to your eares, or (if it please you to make this place happie by your presence) at more leasure you shall vnderstand of me. I that from the beginning assu­red my selfe it was he, but would not seeme I did so, to keepe my grauitie the better, making a peece of reue­rēce vnto him, Mighty Prince (said I) let my not know­ing you serue for the excuse of my boldnes, and the lit­tle reuerence I doe you, impute it to the manner of my coūtry, whch is the inuincible Lande of the Ama­zons; My selfe neece to Senicia, Queene thereof, line­ally descended of the famous Penthesilea, slaine by the bloody hand of Pyrrhus. I hauing in this my youth determined to make the worlde see the Ama­zons excellencies, aswell in priuate, as in publicke vertue, haue passed some daungerous aduentures in diuers coūtries: till the vnmercifull Sea depriued me of my company: so that shipwrack casting me not far hence, vncertaine wandring brought me to this place. But Basilius (who now began to tast that, which since he hath swallowed vp, as I will tell you) fell to more cunning intreating my aboad, then any greedy host would vse to well paying passingers. I thought no­thing could shoot righter at the mark of my desires; yet had I learned alredy somuch, that it was aganst my wo­manhoode[Page] to be forward in my owne wishes. And therefore he (to proue whither intercessions in fitter mouths might better preuaile) commaunded Dametas to bring forth-with his wife and daughters thether; three Ladies, although of diuers, yet all of excellent beauty.

argument key no. 6 His wife in graue Matronlike attire, with counte­naunce and gesture sutable, and of such fairnes (being in the strengh of her age) as if her, daughters had not bene by, might with iust price haue purchased admira­tion; but they being there, it was enough that the most dainty eye would thinke her a worthy mother of such children. The faire Pamela, whose noble hart I finde doth greatly disdaine, that the trust of her vertue is reposed in such a louts hands as Dametas, had yet to shewe an obedience, taken on shepeardish apparell, which was but of Russet cloth cut after their fashion, with a straight body, open brested, the nether parte ful of pleights, with long and wide sleeues: but beleeue me she did apparell her apparell, and with the pretious­nes of her body made it most sumptuous. Her haire at the full length, wound about with gold lace, onely by the comparison to see how farre her haire doth excell in colour: betwixt her breasts (which sweetly rase vp like two faire Mountaints in the pleasaunt valley of Tempe) there honge a very riche Diamond set but in a blacke horne, the worde I haue since read is this; yet stil my selfe. And thus particularly haue I described them, because you may know that mine eyes are not so parti­all, but that I marked them too. But when the orna­ment of the Earth, the modell of heauen, the Tri­umphe of Nature, the light of beauty, Queene of[Page 61] Loue, yoūg Philoclea appeared in her Nimphe-like ap­parell, so neare nakednes, as one might well discerne part of her perfections; & yet so apparelled, as did shew she kept best store of her beuty to her self: her haire (alas too poore a word, why should I not rather call thē her beames) drawē vp into a net, able to take Iupiter when he was in the forme of an Eagle; her body (O sweet bo­dy) couered with a light Taffeta garment, so cut, as the wrought smocke came through it in many places, inough to haue made your restraind imaginatiō haue thought what was vnder it: with the cast of her blacke eyes; blacke indeed, whether nature so made them, that we might be the more able to behold & bear their wō ­derfull shining, or that she, (goddesse like) would work this miracle in her selfe, in giuing blacknes the price a­boue all beauty. Then (I say) indeede me thought the Lillies grew pale for enuie, the roses me thought blush­ed to see sweeter roses in her cheekes, & the apples me thought, fell downe frō the trees, to do homage to the apples of her breast; Then the cloudes gaue place, that the heauēs might more freshly smile vpō her; at the lest the cloudes of my thoughts quite vanished: and my sight (then more cleere and forcible then euer) was so fixed there, that (I imagine) I stood like a well wrought image, with some life in shew, but none in practise. And so had I beene like inough to haue stayed long time, but that Gynecia stepping betweene my sight and the onely Philoclea, the chaunge of obiect made mee re­couer my sences: so that I coulde with reasonable good manner receiue the salutation of her, and of the the princes Pamela, doing them yet no further reuerēce[Page] then one Prince vseth to another. But when I came to the neuer-inough praised Philoclea, I could not but fall downe on my knees, and taking by force her hand, and kissing it (I must confesse) with more then woman­ly ardency, Diuine Lady, (saide I) let not the worlde, nor these great princes maruaile, to se me (contrary to my manner) do this especiall honor vnto you, since all both men and women, do owe this to the perfection of your beauty. But she blushing (like a faire morning in Maye) at this my singularity, and causing me to rise, Noble Lady, (saide she) it is no maruaile to see your iudgement mistaken in my beauty, since you beginne with so great an errour, as to do more honour vnto me then to them, whom I my selfe owe all seruice. Rather (answered I with a bowed downe countenaunce) that shewes the power of your beauty, which forced me to do such an errour, if it were an errour. You are so well acquainted (saide she sweetely, most sweetely smiling,) with your owne beautie, that it makes you easilie fall into the discourse of beauty. Beauty in me? (said I true­ly sighing) alas if there be any, it is in my eyes, which your blessed presence hath imparted vnto them.

argument key no. 7 But then (as I thinke) Basilius willing her so do, Well (saide she) I must needs confesse I haue heard that it is a great happines to be praised of them that are most praise worthie; And well I finde that you are an inuin­cible Amazon, since you will ouercome, though in a wrong matter. But if my beauty be any thing, then let it obtaine thus much of you, that you will remaine some while in this cōpanie, to ease your owne trauail, and our solitarines. First let me dye (said I) before any word spoken by such a mouth, should come in vaine.

And thus with some other wordes of entertaining, was my staying concluded, and I led among them to the lodge; truely a place for pleasantnes,argument key no. 8 not vnfitte to flatter solitarinesse; for it being set vpon such an vnsen­sible rising of the ground, as you are come to a prety height before almost you perceiue that you ascend, it giues the eye lordship ouer a good large circuit, which according to the nature of the coūtry, being diuersified betwene hills and dales, woods and playnes, one place more cleere, and the other more darksome, it seemes a pleasant picture of nature, with louely lightsomnes and artificiall shadowes. The Lodge is of a yellow stone, built in the forme of a starre; hauing round about a garden framed into like points: and beyond the gar­dein, ridings cut out, each aunswering the Angles of the Lodge: at the end of one of them is the other smal­ler Lodge, but of like fashion; where the gratious Pamela liueth: so that the Lodge seemeth not vnlike a faire Comete, whose taile stretcheth it selfe to a starre of lesse greatnes.

CHAP. 14.

1 The deuises of the first banket to Zelmane. 2 Her crosses in loue, 3 by the loue of Basilius 4 and Gynecia 5 The conclusion between Musidorus and Zelmane.

SO Gynecia her selfe bringing me to my argument key no. 1 Lodging, anone after I was inuited and brought downe to suppe with them in the gardein, a place not fairer in naturall orna­ments, then artificiall inuentions: wherein[Page] is a banquetting house among certaine pleasant trees, whose heads seemed curled with the wrappings about of Vine branches. The table was set neere to an excel­lent water-worke; for by the casting of the water in most cunning maner, it makes (with the shining of the Sunne vpon it) a perfect rainbow, not more pleasant to the eye then to the mind, so sensibly to see the proof of the heauenly Iris. There were birds also made so finely, that they did not onely deceiue the sight with their fi­gure, but the hearing with their songs; which the wa­trie instruments did make their gorge deliuer. The ta­ble at which we sate, was round, which being fast to the floore whereon we sate, and that deuided from the rest of the buildings (with turning a vice, which Basili­us at first did to make me sport) the table, and we about the table, did all turne rounde, by meanes of water which ranne vnder, and carried it about as a Mille. But alas, what pleasure did it to mee, to make diuers times the full circle round about, since Philoclea (being also set) was carried still in equall distance from me, and that onely my eyes did ouertake her; which when the table was stayed, and wee beganne to feede, dranke much more eagerlie of her beautie, then my mouth did of any other licour. And so was my common sense deceiued (being chiefly bent to her) that as I dranke the wine, and withall stale a looke on her, me seemed I tasted her deliciousnesse. But alas, the one thirste was much more inflamed, then the other quen­ched. Sometimes my eyes would lay themselues open to receiue all the dartes she did throwe, somtimes cloze vp with admiration, as if with a contrary fancie, they woulde preserue the riches of that sight they had[Page 63] gotten, or cast my lidde as curtaines ouer the image of beautie, her presence had painted in them. True it is, that my Reason (now growen a seruant to Passion) did yet often tel his master, that he should more moderatly vse his delight. But he, that of a rebell was become a Prince, disdayned almost to allow him the place of a Counseller: so that my senses delights being too strōg for any other resolution, I did euen loose the raines vn­to them: hoping, that (going for a woman) my lookes would passe, either vnmarked, or vnsuspected.

Now thus I had (as me thought) well playd my first argument key no. 2 acte, assuring my selfe, that vnder that disguisment, I should find opportunitie to reueal my self to the owner of my harte. But who would thinke it possible (though I feele it true) that in almost eight weekes space, I haue liued here (hauing no more companie but her parents, and I being familiar, as being a woman, and watchfull, as being a louer) yet could neuer finde opportunitie to haue one minutes leasure of priuie conference: the cause where of is as strange, as the effects are to me mise­rable. And (alas) this it is.

At the first sight that Basilius had of me (I think Cupid argument key no. 3 hauing headed his arrows with my misfortune) he was striken (taking me to be such as I professe) with great af­fectiō towards me: which since is growen to such a do­ting loue, that (till I was faine to gette this place, some­times to retire vnto freely) I was euen choaked with his tediousnes. You neuer saw fourscore yeares daunce vp and downe more liuely in a young Louer: now, as fine in his apparrell, as if he would make me in loue with a cloake; and verse for verse with the sharpest-witted Lo­uer in Arcadia. Doo you not think that this is a sallet of[Page] woormwood, while mine eyes feede vpon the Ambro­sia of Philocleas beauty.

But this is not all; no this is not the worst; for he (good man) were easy enough to be dealt with: but (as I thinke) Loue and mischeefe hauing made a wager, which should haue most power in me, haue set Gynecia argument key no. 4 also on such a fire towardes me, as will neuer (I feare) be quenched but with my destruction. For she (being a woman of excellent witte, and of strong working thoughts) whether she suspected me by my ouer-vehe­ment showes of affection to Philoclea (which loue for­ced me vnwisely to vtter, while hope of my maske foo­lishly incouraged me) or that she hath takē some other marke of me, that I am not a woman: or what deuil it is hath reuealed it vnto her, I know not; but so it is, that al her countenances, words and gestures, are miserable portraitures of a desperate affection. Whereby a man may learne, that these auoydings of companie, doo but make the passions more violent, when they meete with fitte subiects. Truely it were a notable dumb shew of Cupids kingdome, to see my eyes (languishing with ouer-vehement longing) direct themselues to Philoclea: & Basilius as busie about me as a Bee, & indeed as cum­bersome; making such suits to me, who nether could if I would; nor would if I could, helpe him: while the terri­ble witte of Gynecia, carried with the beere of violent loue, runnes thorow vs all. And so ielious is she of my loue to her daughter, that I could neuer yet beginne to open my mouth to the vneuitable Philoclea, but that her vnwished presence gaue my tale a cōclusion, before it had a beginning.

And surely if I be not deceiued, I see such shewes of[Page 64] liking, and (if I bee acquainted with passions) of al­most a passionate liking in the heauenly Philoclea, to­wardes me, that I may hope her eares would not ab­horre my discourse. And for good Basilius, he thought it best to haue lodged vs together, but that the eter­nall hatefulnes of my destinie, made Cynecias ielousie stoppe that, and all other my blessings. Yet must I con­fesse, that one way her loue doth me pleasure: for since it was my foolish fortune, or vnfortunate follie, to be knowen by her, that keepes her from bewraying me to Basilius. And thus (my Musidorus) you haue my Tra­gedie played vnto you by myselfe, which I pray the gods may not in deede prooue a Tragedie. And there he ended, making a full point of a hartie sigh.

Musidorus recōmended to his best discourse, all which argument key no. 5 Pyrocles had told him. But therein he found such intri­catenes, that he could see no way to lead him out of the maze; yet perceiuing his affection so groūded, that stri­uing against it, did rather anger then heale the wound, and rather call his friendshippe in question, then giue place to any friendly counsell. Well (said he) deare co­sin, since it hath pleased the gods to mingle your other excellencies with this humor of loue, yet happie it is, that your loue is imployed vpon so rare a woman: for certainly, a noble cause dooth ease much agrieuous case. But as it stands now, nothing vexeth me, as that I cānot see wherein I can be seruisable vnto you. I desire no greater seruice of you (āswered Pyrocles) thē that you remayn secretly in this country, & some-times come to this place; either late in the night, or early in the mor­ning, where you shal haue my key to ēter, bicause as my[Page] fortune, eyther amendes or empaires. I may declare it vnto you, and haue your counsell and furtheraunce: & hereby I will of purpose lead her, that is the prayse, and yet the staine of all womankinde, that you may haue so good a view, as to allowe my iudgement: and as I can get the most conuenient time, I wil come vn­to you; for though by reason of yonder wood you cannot see the Lodge; it is harde at hande. But now, (said she) it is time for me to leaue you, and towardes euening wee will walke out of purpose hetherward, therefore keepe your selfe close in that time. But Mu­sidorus bethinking him selfe that his horse might hap­pen to bewray them, thought it best to returne for that day, to a village not farre of, and dispatching his horse in some sorte, the next day early to come a foote thi­ther, and so to keepe that course afterward, which Py­rocles very well liked of. Now farewell deere cousin (said he) from me, no more Pyrocles, nor Daiphantus now, but Zelmane: Zelmane is my name, Zelmane is my title, Zelmane is the onely hope of my aduaunce­ment. And with that word going out, and seeing that the coast was cleare, Zelmane dismissed Musidorus, who departed as full of care to helpe his friend, as before he was to disswade him.

CHAP. 15.

1 The Labyrinth of Zelmanes loue. 2 The Ladies exercises. 3 The challenge of Phalantus in paragon of Artesias beautie. 4 The description of their persons and affections: 5 and occasion of this challenge. 6 The successe thereof abroad.

ZElmane returned to the Lodge,argument key no. 1 where (inflamed by Philoclea, watched by Gynecia, and tired by Basilius) she was like a horse, de­sirous to runne, and miserablie spurred, but so short rainde, as he cannot stirre forward: Zelmane sought occasion to speake with Philoclea; Basilius with Zelmane; and Gynecia hindered them all. If Philoclea hapned to sigh (and sigh she did of­ten) as if that sigh were to be wayted on, Zelmane sighed also; whereto Basilius and Gynecia soone made vp foure parts of sorow. Their affection increased their conuer­sation; and their conuersation increased their affection. The respect borne bredde due ceremonies; but the af­fection shined so through them, that the ceremonies seemed not ceremonious. Zelmanes eyes were (like chil­dren asore sweet meate) eager, but fearefull of their ill­pleasing gouernors. Time in one instant, seeming both short, and long vnto them: short, in the pleasingnes of such presence: long, in the stay of their desires.

But Zelmane fayled not to intice them all many times argument key no. 2 abroad, because she was desirous her friend Musidorus (neere whom of purpose she ledde them) might haue full sight of them. Sometimes angling to a little Riuer neere hand, which for the moisture it bestowed vpon rootes of some flourishing Trees, was rewarded with their shadowe. There would they sitte downe, & pretie wagers be made betweene Pamela and Philoclea, which could soonest beguile silly fishes; while Zelmane prote­sted, that the fitte pray for them was hartes of Princes. She also had an angle in her hand; but the taker was so[Page] taken, that she had forgotten taking. Basilius in the meane time would be the cooke him selfe of what was so caught, & Gynecia sit stil, but with no stil pensifnesse. Now she brought them to see a feeled Doue, who the blinder she was, the higher she straue. Another time a Kite, which hauing a gut cunningly pulled out of her, and so let flie, called all the Kites in that quarter, who (as oftentimes the worlde is deceaued) thinking her prosperous when indeed she wàs wounded, made the poore Kite find, that opinion of riches may wel be dangerous.

argument key no. 3 But these recreations were interrupted by a delight of more gallant shew; for one euening as Basilius retur­ned from hauing forced his thoughts to please them­selues in such small conquests, there came a shepheard, who brought him word that a Gentlemā desired leaue to do a message from his Lord vnto him. Basilius gran­ted; wherupon the Gentleman came, and after the du­tifull ceremonies obserued, in his maisters name tolde him, that he was sent from Phalātus of Corinth, to craue licence, that as he had done in many other courts, so he might in his presence defie all Arcadian Knights in the behalfe of his mistres beautie, who would besides, her selfe in person be present, to giue euident proofe what his launce should affirme. The conditions of his chalenge were, that the defendant should bring his mi­stresse picture, which being set by the image of Artesia (so was the mistresse of Phalantus named) who in six courses should haue better of the other, in the iudge­ment of Basilius, with him both the honors and the pi­ctures should remaine. Basilius (though he had retired him selfe into that solitarie dwelling, with intention[Page 66] to auoid, rather then to accept any matters of drawing company; yet because he would entertaine Zelmane, (that she might not think the time so gainefull to him, losse to her) graunted him to pitch his tent for three dayes, not farre from the lodge, and to proclayme his chalenge, that what Arcadian Knight (for none els but vpon his perill was licensed to come) woulde de­fende what he honored against Phalantus, should haue the like freedome of accesse and returne.

argument key no. 4 This obteyned and published, Zelmane being desi­rous to learne what this Phalantus was, hauing neuer knowne him further then by report of his owne good, in somuch as he was commonly called, The faire man of armes, Basilius told her that he had had occasion by one very inward with him, to knowe in parte the dis­course of his life, which was, that he was bastard-bro­ther to the faire Helen Queene of Corinth, and deerly e­steemed of her for his exceeding good parts, being ho­norablie courteous, and wronglesly valiaunt, consi­derately pleasant in conuersation, & an excellent cour­tier without vnfaithfulnes; who (finding his sisters vn­perswadeable melancholy, thorow the loue of Am­phialus) had for a time left her court, and gone into La­conia: where in the warre against the Helots, he had gottē the reputatiō of one, that both durst & knew. But as it was rather choise thē nature, that led him to mat­ters of armes, so as soon as the spur of honor ceased, he willingly rested in peaceable delightes, being beloued in all cōpanies for his louely qualities, & (as a mā may terme it) cunning cherefulnes, wherby to the Prince & Court of Laconia, none was more agreable thē Pha­lantus: and he not giuen greatly to struggle with his[Page] owne disposition, followed the gentle currant of it, ha­uing a fortune sufficient to content, & he content with a sufficient fortune. But in that court he sawe, and was acquainted with this Artesia, whose beautie he now defendes, became her seruant, said him selfe, and per­chaunce thought him selfe her louer. But certainly, (said Basilius) many times it falles out, that these young companiōs make themselues beleeue they loue at the first liking of a likely beautie; louing, because they will loue for want of other businesse, not because they feele indeed that diuine power, which makes the heart finde a reason in passion: and so (God knowes) as in­constantly leane vpon the next chaunce that beautie castes before them. So therefore taking loue vppon him like a fashion, he courted this Ladie Artesia, who was as fit to paie him in his owne monie as might be. For she thinking she did wrong to her beautie if she were not prowde of it, called her disdaine of him cha­stitie, and placed her honour in little setting by his ho­nouring her: determining neuer to marrie, but him, whome she thought worthie of her: and that was one, in whome all worthinesse were harboured. And to this conceipt not onely nature had bent her, but the bringing vp she receaued at my sister in lawe Cecro­pia, had confirmed her: who hauing in her widow­hood taken this young Artesia into her charge; be­cause her Father had bene a deare friend of her dead husbandes, and taught her to thinke that there is no wisdome but in including heauen & earth in ones self: and that loue, courtesie, gratefulnesse, friendship, and all other vertues are rather to be taken on, then taken in ones selfe: And so good discipline she found of her,[Page 67] that liking the fruits of her owne planting, she was cō ­tent (if so her sonne could haue liked of it) to haue wi­shed her in marriage to my Nephew Amphialus. But I thinke that desire hath lost some of his heate, since she hath knowne, that such a Queene as Helen is, doth of­fer so great a price as a kingdome, to buie his fauour; for if I be not deceaued in my good sister Cecropia, shee thinks no face so beautifull, as that which lookes vnder a crowne. But Artesia indeede liked well of my Ne­phew Amphialus; for I cā neuer deeme that loue, which in hauty harts proceeds of a desire onely to please, and as it were, peacock themselues; but yet she hath shewed vehemencie of desire that way, I thinke, because all her desires be vehemēt, in so much that she hath both pla­ced her onely brother (a fine youth called Ismenus) to be his squire, and her selfe is content to waite vpon my sister, till she may see the vttermost what she may worke in Amphialus: who being of a melancholie (though I must needes saye courteous and noble) mind, seems to loue nothing lesse then Loue: & of late hauing through some aduenture, or inwarde miscon­tentment, withdrawne him selfe frō any bodies know­ledge, where he is: Artesia the easier condiscended to goe to the court of Laconia, whether she was sent for by the Kinges wife, to whome she is somewhat allied.

And there after the war of the Helots, this Knight Pha­lantus, (at least for tongue-delight) made him selfe her seruaunt, and she so little caring, as not to showe mis­like thereof, was content onely to be noted to haue a notable seruaunt. For truely one in my court neerely acquainted with him, within these few dayes made me [...] [Page] Launce, and that age, which my graye haires (onely gotten by the louing care of others) make seeme more then it is, hath not diminished in me the power to pro­tect an vndeniable verity. With that he bustled vp him­selfe, as though his harte would faine haue walked a­broad. Zelmane with an inwarde smiling gaue him out­ward thanks, desiring him to reserue his force for worthier causes.

CHAP. 16.

1 Phalantus and Artesias pompous entraunce. 2 The painted muster of an eleuen conquered beauties.

SO passing their time according to their woont, they wayted for the cōming of Phalantus, who the next morning hauing alredy caused his tents to be pitched, neere to a faire tree hard by the Lodge, had vp­pon the tree made a shield to bee hanged vp, which the defendant should strike, that woulde call him to the mainteyning his challendge. The Impresa in the shield; was a heauen full of starres, with a speech signifying, that it was the beauty which gaue it the praise.

Himselfe came in next after a triumphant chariot, made of Carnatiō veluet inriched with purle & peatle, wherein Artesia sat, drawne by foure winged horses with artificiall flaming mouths, and fiery winges, as if she had newly borrowed them of I'haebus. Before her marched, two after two; certaine footemē pleasantly at­tired, who betweene them held one picture after an­other[Page 69] of them, that by Phalantus well running had lost the prize in the race of beauty, and at euery pace they stayed, turning the pictures to each side, so leasurely, that with perfect iudgement they might be discerned.

The first that came in (folowing the order of the time argument key no. 1 wherein they had benewonne) was the picture of An­dromana, Queene of Iberia; whom a Laconian Knight hauing sometime (and with speciall fauour) serued, (thoughsome yeares since retourned home) with more gratefulnes then good fortune defended. But therein Fortune had borrowed witte; for indeede she was not cōparable to Artesia; not because she was a good deale elder (for time had not yet beene able to impouerish her store thereof) but an exceeding red haire with small eyes, did (like ill companions) disgrace the other assem­bly of most commendable beauties.

Next after her was borne the counterfaite of the argument key no. 2 princesse of Elis, a Lady that taught the beholders no other point of beauty, but this, that as lyking is, not al­waies the child of beauty, so whatsoeuer liketh; is beau­tyfull; for in that visage there was nether Maiestie, grace, fauour, nor fairenesse; ȳet she wanted not a ser­uaunt that woulde haue made her fairer then the faire Artesia. But he wrote her praises with his helmet in the dust, and left her picture to be as true a witnes of his ouerthrow, as his running was of her beauty.

After her was the goodly Artaxia, great Q. of Arme­nia, 3 a Lady vpon whom nature bestowed, & wel placed her delightful colours; & withal, had proportioned her without any fault, quickly to be discouered by the sen­ses, yet altogether seemed not to make vp that harmo­ny, that Cupid delights in; the reasō wherof might seem a mannish countenance, which ouerthrew that louely[Page] sweetnes, the noblest power of womankinde, farre fit­ter to preuaile by parley, then by battell.

4 Of a farre contrary consideratiō was the representati­on of her that next followed, which was Erona Queene of Licia, who though of so browne a haire, as no man should haue iniuried it to haue called it blacke, and that in the mixture of her cheeks the white did so much ouercome the redde (though what was, was very pure) that it came neare to palenes, and that her face was a thought longer then the exacte Symmetrians perhaps would allow; yet loue plaid his part so well, in euerie part, that it caught holde of the iudgement, before it could iudge, making it first loue, & after acknowledge it faire, for there was a certaine delicacie, which in yeel­ding, conquered; & with a pitiful looke made one find cause to craue helpe himselfe.

5 After her came two Ladies, of noble, but not of roy­all birth: the former was named Baccha, who though very faire, and of a fatnes rather to allure, then to mis­like, yet her brests ouer-familiarly laide open, with a mad countenaunce about her mouth, betweene sim­pring & smyling, her head bowed somwhat down, see­med to lāguish with ouer-much idlenes, with an inui­ting look cast vpward, disswading with too much per­swading, while hope might seem to ouercome desire.

6 The other (whose name was written Leucippe) was of a fine daintines of beauty, her face carying in it a sober simplicitie; like one that could do much good, & ment no hurt, her eyes hauing in them such a cheerefulnes, as nature seemed to smile in them: though her mouth and cheekes obeyed that prety demurenes which the more one markes, the more one woulde iudge the poore soule apt to beleue; & therefore the more pitie[Page 70] to deceiue her.

Next came the Queene of Laconia, one that seemed 7 borne in the confines of beauties kingdome: for all her lineamēts were neither perfect possessions thereof, nor absent strangers thereto: but she was a Queene, and therefore beautyfull.

But she that followed, conquered indeed with being 8 conquered; & might well haue made all the beholders waite vpō her triumph, while her selfe were led captiue. It was the excellētly-faire Queene Helen, whose Iacinth haire curled by nature, & intercurled by arte (like a fine brooke through goldē sāds) had a rope of faire pearles, which now hiding, now hidden by the haire, did as it were play at fast or loose, each with other, mutually gi­uing & receiuing riches. In her face so much beautie & fauour expressed, as if Helen had not bene knowē, some would rather haue iudged it the painters exercise, to shew what he could do, thē coūterfaiting of any liuing patterne: for no fault the most fault finding wit could haue foūd, if it were not, that to the rest of the body the face was somewhat too little: but that little was such a sparke of beauty, as was able to enflame a world of loue. For euery thing was full of a choyce finenes, that if it wāted any thing in maiestie, it supplied it with increase of pleasure; & if at the first it strake not admiration, it ra­uished with delight. And no indifferēt soule there was, which if it could resist frō subiecting it self to make it his princesse, that would not lōg to haue such a playfelow. As for her attire, it was costly and curious, though the look (fixt with more sadnes thē it seemed nature had be stowed to any that knew her fortune) bewraied, that as she vsed those ornamēts, not for her self, but to preuaile with another, so she feared, that all would not serue.

9 Of a farre differing (though esteemed equall) beau­tie, was the faire Parthenia, who next wayted on Artesias triumph, though farre better she might haue sitte in the throne. For in her euery thing was goodly, and stately; yet so, that it might seeme that great-mindednes was but the auncient-bearer to humblenes. For her great graie eye, which might seem full of her owne beauties, a large, and exceedingly faire forhead, with all the rest of her face and body, cast in the mould of Noblenes; was yet so attired, as might shew, the mistres thought it either not to deserue, or not to need any exquisite dec­king, hauing no adorning but cleanlines; and so farre from all arte, that it was full of carelesnesse: vnlesse that carelesnesse it selfe (in spite of it selfe) grew artificiall. But Basilius could not abstaine from praising Parthenia, as the perfect picture of a womanly vertue, and wiuely faithfulnes: telling withall Zelmane, how he had vnder­stoode, that when in the court of Laconia, her picture (maintained by a certaine Sycionian Knight) was lost, thorow want, rather of valour, then iustice: her hus­band (the famous Argalus) would in a chafe haue gone and redeemed it with a new triall. But she (more spor­ting then sorrowing for her vndeserued champion) tolde her husbande, she desired to be beautifull in no bodies eye but his; and that she would rather marre her face as euill as euer it was, then that it should be a cause to make Argalus put on armour. Then would Basilius haue tolde Zelmane, that which she alredie knew, of the rare triall of their coupled affection: but the next pi­cture made the mouth giue place to their eyes.

10 It was of a young mayd, which fate pulling out a thorne out of a Lambs foote, with her looke so atten­tiue[Page 71] vppon it, as if that little foote coulde haue bene the circle of her thoughts; her apparell so poore, as it had nothing but the inside to adorne it; a she phooke lying by her with a bottle vpon it. But with al that po­uertie, beauty plaid the prince, and commanded as ma­ny harts as the greatest Queene there did. Her beautie and her estate made her quicklie to be knowne to be the faire shepheardesse, Vrania, whom a rich knight cal­led Lacemon, farre in loue with her, had vnluckely de­fended.

The last of all in place, because last in the time of 11 her being captiue, was Zelmane, daughter to the King Plexirtus: who at the first sight seemed to haue some re­sembling of Philoclea, but with more marking (cōparing it to the present Philoclea, who indeed had no paragon but her sister) they might see, it was but such a likenesse, as an vnperfect glasse doth giue; aunswerable enough in some feitures, & colors, but erring in others. But Zel­mane sighing, turning to Basilius, Alas sir (said she) here be some pictures which might better become the tōbes of their Mistresses, then the triumphe of Artesia. It is true sweetest Lady (saide Basilius) some of them be dead, and some other captiue: But that hath happened so late, as it may be the Knightes that defended their beauty, knew not so much: without we will say (as in some harts I know it would fall out) that death it selfe could not blot out the image which loue hath engrauē in thē. But diuers besides these (said Basilius) hath Pha­lantus woon, but he leaues the rest, carying onely such, who either for greatnes of estate, or of beauty, may iust­ly glorifie the glory of Artesias triumph.

CHAP. 17.

1 The ouerthrow of fiue Arcadian knights. 2 The young shepheards prettie challenge. 3 What passions the sixth knights foyle bredde in Zelmane. 4 Clitophon hardly ouermat­ched by Phalantus. 5 The ill arayed, & the black knights contention for prioritie agains Phalantus. 6 The halting knights complaint against the black knight. 7 Phalantus fall by the ill furnisht knight. 8 The crosse-parting of Phalantus with Artesia, 9 and who the victor was.

argument key no. 1 THus talked Basilius with Zelmane, glad to make any matter subiect to speake of, with his mistresse, while Phalantus in this pompous man­ner, brought Artesia with her gē ­tlewomē, into one Tent, by which he had another: where they both wayted who would first strike vpon the shielde, while Basilius the Iudge appointed sticklers, and trumpets, to whom the other should obey. But non that day appea­red, nor the next, till already it had consumed halfe his allowance of light; but then there came in a knight, protesting himselfe as contrarie to him in minde, as he was in apparrell. For Phalantus was all in white, hauing in his bases, and caparison imbroidered a wauing wa­ter: at each side whereof he had nettings cast ouer, in which were diuers fishes naturally made, & so pretily, that as the horse stirred, the fishes seemed to striue, and leape in the nette.

But the other knight, by name Nestor, by birth an Ar­cadian, [Page 72] & in affection vowed to the faire Shepherdesse, was all in black, with fire burning both vpō his armour, and horse. His impresa in his shield, was a fire made of Iuniper, with this word, More easie, and more sweete. But this hote knight was cooled with a fall, which at the third course he receiued of Phalantus, leauing his pi­cture to keepe companie with the other of the same stampe; he going away remedilesly chasing at his re­buke. The next was Polycetes, greatly esteemed in Arca­dia, for deedes he had done in armes: and much spoken of for the honourable loue he had long borne to Gyne­cia; which Basilius himselfe was content, not onely to suffer, but to be delighted with; he carried it in so ho­norable and open plainnes, setting to his loue no other marke, then to do her faithfull seruice. But neither her faire picture, nor his faire running, could warrant him from ouerthrow, and her from becomming as then the last of Artesias victories: a thing Gynecias vertues would little haue recked at another time, nor then, if Zelmane had not seene it. But her champion went away asmuch discomforted, as discomfited. Then Telamon for Polixe­na, & Eurimelō for Elpine, and Leon for Zoana; all braue Knights, all faire Ladies, with their going down, lifted vp the ballance of his praise for actiuitie, and hers for fairenes.

Vpon whose losse as the beholders were talking,argument key no. 2 there comes into the place where they ranne, a shep­heard stripling (for his height made him more then a boy, & his face would not allow him a mā) brown of cō plexiō (whether by nature, or by the Suns familiaritie) but very louely withall; for the rest so perfectly propor­tioned, that Nature shewed, she dooth not like men[Page] who slubber vp matters of meane account. And well might his proportion be iudged; for he had nothing vpon him but a paire of sloppes, and vpon his bodie a Gote-skinne, which he cast ouer his shoulder, doing all things with so pretie grace, that it seemed ignorance could not make him do amisse, because he had a hart to do well, holding in his right hand a long stasfe, & so cō ­ming with a looke ful of amiable fiercenes, as in whom choller could not take away the sweetnes, he came to­wards the king, and making a reuerence (which in him was comely because it was kindly) My liege Lord (said he) I pray you heare a few words; for my hart wil break if I say not my minde to you. I see here the picture of Vrania, which (I cannot tell how, nor why) these men when they fall downe, they say is not so faire as yonder gay woman. But pray God, I may neuer see my olde mother aliue, if I thinke she be any more match to Vra­nia, then a Goate is to a fine Lambe; or then the Dog that keepes our flock at home, is like your white Grei­hounde, that pulled down the Stagge last day.

And therefore I pray you let me be drest as they be, and my hart giues me, I shall tumble him on the earth: for indeede he might aswell say, that a Couslip is as white as a Lillie: or els I care not let him come with his great stasfe, and I with this in my hand, and you shall see what I can doo to him. Basilius sawe it was the fine shepheard Lalus, whom once he had afore him in Pa­storall sportes, and had greatly delighted in his wit full of prety simplicitie, and therefore laughing at his ear­nestnesse, he bad him be content, since he sawe the pi­ctures of so great Queenes, were faine to follow their champions fortune. But Lalus (euen weeping ripe)[Page 73] went among the rest, longing to see some bodie that would reuenge Vranias wronge; and praying hartely for euery bodie that ran against Phalantus, then began to feele pouerty, that he could not set him selfe to that triall. But by and by, euen when the Sunne (like a no­ble harte) began to shew his greatest countenaunce in his lowest estate, there came in a Knight, called Phebi­lus, a Gentleman of that coūtry, for whom hatefull for­tune had borrowed the dart of Loue, to make him mi­serable by the sight of Philoclea. For he had euen from her infancie loued her, and was striken by her, before she was able to knowe what quiuer of arrowes her eyes caried; but he loued and dispaired; and the more he dispaired, the more he loued. He sawe his owne vnworthines, and thereby made her excellencie haue more terrible aspect vpon him: he was so secrete there­in, as not daring to be open, that to no creature he e­uer spake of it, but his hart made such silent complaints within it selfe, that while all his senses were attentiue thereto, cunning iudges might perceaue his minde: so that he was knowne to loue though he denied, or ra­ther was the better knowne, because he denied it. His armour and his attire was of a Sea couler, his Im­presa, the fishe called Sepia, which being in the nette castes a blacke inke about it selfe, that in the darke­nesse thereof it may escape: his worde was, Not so. Philocleas picture with almost an idolatrous magnifi­cence was borne in by him. But streight ielousie was a harbinger for disdaine in Zelmanes harte, when she argument key no. 3 sawe any (but her selfe) should be auowed a cham­pion for Philoclea: in somuch that she wisht his shame, till she sawe him shamed: for at the second course he[Page] was striken quite from out of the saddle, so full of grief, and rage withall, that he would faine with the sworde haue reuenged it: but that being contrary to the order set downe, Basilius would not suffer; so that wishing him selfe in the bottome of the earth, he went his way, lea­uing Zelmane no lesse angry with his los, thē she would haue beene with his victory. For if she thought before a riuals prayse woulde haue angred her, her Ladies disgrace did make her much more forget what she then thought, while that passion raigned so much the more, as she saw a pretie blush in Philocleas cheekes bewray a modest discontentment. But the night commaunded truce for those sportes, & Phalantus (though intreated) would not leaue Artesia, who in no case would come into the house, hauing (as it were) suckte of Cecropias breath a mortall mislike against Basilius.

argument key no. 4 But the night measured by the short ell of sleepe, was soone past ouer, and the next morning had giuen the watchful stars leaue to take their rest, when a trum­pet summoned Basilius to play his iudges parte: which he did, taking his wife & daughters with him; Zelmane hauing lockt her doore, so as they would not trouble her for that time: for already there was a Knight in the fielde, readie to proue Helen of Corinth had receaued great iniury, both by the erring iudgement of the chal­lenger, and the vnlucky weakenesse of her former de­fender. The new Knight was quickly knowne to be Clitophon (Kaladers sonne of Basilius-his sister) by his ar­mour, which al guilt, was so well hādled, that it shewed like a glittering sande and grauell, interlaced with sil­uer riuers: his deuice he had put in the picture of He­len which hee defended. It was the Ermion, with a[Page 74] speach that signified, Rather dead then spotted. But in that armour since he had parted frō Helen (who would no longer his companie, finding him to enter into termes of affection,) he had performed so honourable actiōs, (stil seeking for his two friends by the names of Palladius and Daiphatus,) that though his face were co­uered, his being was discouered, which yet Basilius (which had brought him vp in his court) would not seeme to do; but glad to see triall of him, of whom he had heard very well, he commaunded the trumpets to sound; to which the two braue Knights obeying, they performed their courses, breaking their six staues, with so good, both skill in the hitting, & grace in the maner, that it bred some difficulty in the iudgement. But Basi­lius in the ende gaue sentence against Clitophon, because Phalantus had broken more staues vpō the head, & that once Clitophon had receiued such a blowe, that he had lost the raines of his horse, with his head well nie tou­ching the crooper of the horse. But Clitophon was so an­gry with the iudgemēt, (wherin he thought he had re­ceiued wrōg) that he omitted his duty to his Prince, & vncle; and sodainly went his way, still in the quest of them, whom as then he had left by seeking: & so yeel­ded the field to the next commer.

Who comming in about two houres after, was no argument key no. 5 lesse marked then al the rest before, because he had no­thing worth the marking. For he had neither picture, nor deuice, his armour of as old a fashion (besides the rustie poorenesse,) that it might better seeme a monu­ment of his graundfathes courage: about his middle he had in steede of bases, a long cloake of silke, which as vnhandsomely, as it needes must, became the wea­rer:[Page] so that all that lookt on, measured his length on the earth alreadie, since he had to meete one who had bene victorious of so many gallants. But he went on towardes the shielde, and with a sober grace strake it; but as he let his sworde fall vpon it, another Knight, all in blacke came rustling in, who strake the shield al­most assoone as he, and so strongly, that he brake the shield in two: the ill appointed Knight (for so the be­holders called him) angrie with that, (as he accoun­ted,) insolent iniurie to himselfe, hit him such a sound blowe, that they that looked on saide, it well became a rude arme. The other aunswered him againe in the same case, so that Launces were put to silence, the swordes were so busie.

But Phalantus angry of this defacing his shield, came vpon the blacke Knight, and with the pommell of his sworde set fire to his eyes, which presently was reuen­ged, not onely by the Blacke, but the ill apparelled Knight, who disdained another should enter into his quarrell, so as, who euer sawe a matachin daunce to i­mitate fighting, this was a sight that did imitate the matachin: for they being but three that fought, eue­rie one had aduersaries, striking him, who strooke the third, and reuenging perhaps that of him, which he had receaued of the other. But Basilius rising himselfe to parte them, the sticklers authoritie scarflie able to perswade cholerike hearers; and parte them he did.

But before he could determine, comes in a fourth, argument key no. 6 halting on foote, who complained to Basilius, demaun­ding iustice on the blacke Knight, for hauing by force taken away the picture of Pamela from him, whiche in little forme he ware in a Tablet, and couered with[Page 75] silke had fastened it to his Helmet, purposing for want of a bigger, to paragon the little one with Artesias length, not doubting but in that little quantitie, the excellencie of that would shine thorow the weake­nesse of the other: as the smallest starre do the thorow the whole Element of fire. And by the way he had met with this blacke Knight, who had (as he said) rob­bed him of it. The iniurie seemed grieuous, but when it came fully to be examined, it was found, that the hal­ting Knight meeting the other, asking the cause of his going thetherward, and finding it was to defend Pame­las diuine beautie against Artesias, with a prowde iol­litie commaunded him to leaue that quarrell onely for him, who was onely worthy to enter into it. But the blacke Knight obeying no such cōmandements, they fell to such a bickering, that he gat a halting, & lost his picture. This vnderstood by Basilius, he told him he was now fitter to looke to his owne bodie, then an o­thers picture: & so (vncomforted therein) sent him a­way to learn of AEsculapius that he was not fit for Venus.

But then the question arising who should be the for­mer against Phalantus, of the blacke, or the ill apparel­led argument key no. 5 Knight (who now had gotten the reputation of some sturdy loute, he had so well defended himselfe) of the one side, was alleged the hauing a picture which the other wanted: of the other side, the first stri­king the shield; but the conclusion was, that the ill ap­parelled Knight should haue the precedence, if he deli­uered the figure of his mistresse to Phalantus; who as­king him for it, Certainely (saide he) her liueliest picture, (if you could see it) is in my hart, & the best cōparison I could make of her, is of the Sunne & of all other the[Page] heauenly beauties. But because perhappes all eyes can­not taste the Diuinitie of her beautie, and would ra­ther be dazeled, then taught by the light, if it bee not clowded by some meaner thing; know you then, that I desend that same Ladie, whose image Phebilus so feebly lost yesternight, and in steede of an other (if you ouercome mee) you shall haue me your slaue to carrie that image in your mistresse triumphe. Pha­lantus casilie agreed to the bargaine, which alreadie he made his owne.

argument key no. 7 But when it came to the triall, the ill apparelled Knight choosing out the greatest staues in all the store, at the first course gaue his head such a remembraunce, that he lost almost his remembraunce, he him selfe receyuing the incounter of Phalantus without any ex­traordinarie motion. And at the seconde gaue him such a couterbusse, that because Phalantus was so perfite a horseman, as not to be driuen from the sad­dle, the saddle with broken girthes was driuen from the horse: Phalantus remaining angrie and amazed, because now being come almost to the last of his pro­mised enterprise, that disgrace befell him, which he had neuer before knowne.

argument key no. 8 But the victorie being by the iudges giuen, and the trumpets witnessed to the ill apparelled Knight; Pha­lantus disgrace was ingrieued in lieu of comforte by Artesia; who telling him she neuer lookt for other, bad him seeke some other mistresse. He excusing him­self, and turning ouer the fault to Fortune, Then let that be your ill Fortune too (saide she) that you haue lost me.

Nay truely Madame (saide Phalantus) it shall not[Page 76] be so: for I thinke the losse of such a Mistresse will prooue a great gaine: and so concluded; to the sporte of Basilius, to see young folkes loue, that came in maskt with so great pompe, goe out with so little con­stancie. But Phalantus first professing great seruice to Basilius for his curteous intermitting his solitary course for his sake, would yet conduct Artesia to the castle of Cecropia, whether she desired to goe: vowing in him­selfe, that neither hart, nor mouth-loue, should euer a­ny more intangle him. And with that resolution he left the company.

Whence all being dismissed (among whom the black argument key no. 9 knight wēt away repyning at his luck, that had kept him frō winning the honor, as he knew he should haue don, to the picture of Pamela) the ill apparelled knight (who was only desired to stay, because Basilius meant to shew him to Zelmane) puld of his Helmet, & then was knowē himselfe to be Zelmane: who that morning (as she told) while the others were busie, had stolne out, to the Prin­ces stable, which was a mile of frō the Lodge, had got­ten a horse (they knowing it was Basilius pleasure she should be obeyed) & borrowing that homely armour for want of a better, had come vpon the spur to redeem Philocleas picture, which she said, she could not beare, (being one of that little wildernesse-company) should be in captiuitie, if the cunning she had learned in her coūtrye of the noble Amazons, could withstād it: & vn­der that pretext faine she would haue giuē a secret pas­port to her affection. But this act painted at one instant rednesse in Philocleas face, and palenesse in Gynecias, but broght forth no other coūtenāces but of admiratiō, no speches but of cōmēdatiōs: al these few (besides loue)[Page] thinking they honoured them selues, in honouring so accomplished a person as Zelmane: whom dayly they sought with some or other sports to delight, for which purpose Basilius had in a house not farre of, seruaunts, who though they came not vncalled, yet at call were redye.

CHAP. 18.

1 Musidorus disguised. 2 His Song. 3 His loue, 4 the cause thereof. 5 His course therein.

ANd so many daies were spent, and many waies vsed, while Zelmane was like one that stoode in a tree waiting a good occasiō to shoot, & Gynecia a blauncher, which kept the dearest deere from her. But the day being come, which according to an apointed course, the sheapheards were to assēble, & make their pastorall sports afore Basilius: Zelmane (fea­ring, lest many eyes, and comming diuers waies, might hap to spy Musidorus) went out to warne him thereof.

argument key no. 1 But before she could come to the Arbour, she sawe walking from her-ward, a man in sheapperdish apparrel who being in the sight of the Lodge it might seeme he was allowed there. A lōg cloke he had on, but that cast vnder his right arme, wherein he held a shephooke, so finely wrought, that it gaue a brauery to pouerty; & his rayments, though they were meane, yet receiued they hansomnes by the grace of the wearer; though he himselfe Musidorus disguised. [Page 77] selfe went but a kinde of languishing pace, with his eies somewhat cast vp to heauen, as though his fancyes straue to mount higher; sometimes throwne downe to the ground, as if the earth could not beare the bur­thens of his sorrowes; at length, with a lamētable tune, he songe these fewe verses.

Come shepheards weedes, become your masters minde:argument key no. 2
Yeld outward shew, what inward chance he tryes:
Nor be abasht, since such a guest you finde,
Whose strongest hope in your weake comfort lyes.
Come shepheards weedes, attend my woefull cryes:
Disuse your selues from sweete Menalcas voice:
For other be those tunes which sorrow tyes,
From those cleere notes which freely may reioyce.
Then power out plaint, and in one word say this:
Helples his plaint, who spoyles himselfe of blisse.

And hauing ended, he strake himselfe on the brest; saying, O miserable wretch, whether do thy destenies guide thee? The voice made Zelmane hasten her pace to ouertake him: which hauing done, she plainly per­ceaued that it was her deare friend Musidorus, whereat maruailing not a little, she demaunded of him, whether the Goddesse of those woods had such a powre to trās­forme euery body, or whether, as in all enterprises else he had done, he meant thus to match her in this newe alteration.

Alas, (said Musidorus) what shall I say, who am loth argument key no. 3 to say, and yet faine would haue said? I find indeed, that all is but lip-wisdome, which wants experience. I now[Page] (woe is me) do try what loue can doo. O Zelmane, who will resist it, must either haue no witte, or put out his eyes? can any man resist his creation? certainely by loue we are made, and to loue we are made. Beasts one­ly cannot discerne beauty, and let them be in the role of Beasts that doo not honor it. The perfect friend­ship Zelmane bare him, and the great pitie she (by good triall) had of such cases, coulde not keepe her from smiling at him, remembring how vehemently he had cryed out against the folly of louers. And therefore a litle to punish him, Why how now deere cousin (said she) you that were last day so hie in Pulpit against lo­uers, are you now become so meane an auditor? Re­member that loue is a passion; and that a woorthie mans reason must euer haue the masterhood. I recant, I recant (cryed Masidorus,) and withall falling downe prostrate, O thou celestial, or infernal spirit of Loue, or what other heauēly or hellish title thou list to haue (for effects of both I finde in my selfe) haue compassion of me, and let thy glory be as great in pardoning them that be submitted to thee, as in conquering those that were rebellious. No, no saide Zelmane, I see you well enough: you make but an enterlude of my mishaps, and doo but counterfaite thus, to make me see the de­formitie of my passions: but take heede, that this iest do not one day turne to earnest. Now I beseech thee (saide Musidorus taking her fast by the hand) euen for the truth of our friendship, of which (if I be not al­together an vnhappy man) thou hast some remembe­raunce, & by those sacred flames which (I know) haue likewise neerely touched thee; make no iest of that, which hath so ernestly pearced me thorow, nor let that[Page 78] be light to thee, which is to me so burdenous, that I am not able to beare it. Musidorus both in words & be­hauiour, did so liuely deliuer out his inward grief, that Zelmane found indeede, he was thorowly woūded: but there rose a new iclousy in her minde, lest it might be with Philoclea, by whom, as Zelmane thought, in right all hartes and eyes should be inherited. And therefore desirous to be cleered of that doubt, Musidorus shortly (as in hast and full of passionate perplexednes,) thus re­counted his case vnto her.

The day (said he) I parted from you, I being in mind argument key no. 4 to returne to a towne, from whence I came hether, my horse being before tired, would scarce beare me a mile hence: where being benighted, the light of a candle (I saw a good way of) guided me to a young shepheards house, by name Menalcas, who seing me to be a straying strāger, with the right honest hospitality which seemes to be harboured in the Arcadian brests, & though not with curious costlines, yet with cleanly sufficiencie, en­tertained me: and hauing by talke with him, found the manner of the countrie, something more in particu­lar, then I had by Kalanders report, I agreed to soiourne with him in secret, which he faithfully promised to ob­serue. And so hether to your arbour diuers times repai­red: & here by your meanes had the sight (O that it had neuer bene so, nay, O that it might euer be so) of a Goddesse, who in a definite compasse can set forth in­finite beauty. All this while Zelmane was racked with iealousie. But he went on, For (saide he) I lying close, and in truth thinking of you, and saying thus to my selfe, O sweet Pyrocles, how art thou bewitched? where is thy vertue? where is the vse of thy reason? how much[Page] am I inferior to thee in the state of the mind? And yet know I, that all the heauens cannot bring me to such thraldome. Scarcely, thinke I, had I spoken this word, when the Ladies came foorth; at which fight, I thinke the very words returned back again to strike my soule; at least, an vnmeasurable sting I felt in my selfe, that I had spoken such words. At which sight? said Zelmane, not able to beare him any longer. O (sayd Musidorus) I know your suspition; No, no, banish all such feare, it was, it is, and must be Pamela Then all is safe (sayd Zel­mane) proceede, deare Musidorus. I will not (said he) impute it to my late solitarie life (which yet is prone to affections) nor, to the much thinking of you (though that cald the consideratiō of loue into my mind, which before I euer neglected) nor to the exaltation of Venus; nor reuenge of Cupid; but euen to her, who is the Pla­net, nay, the Goddesse, against which, the onely shielde must be my Sepulchre. When I first saw her, I was pre­sently striken, and I (like a foolish child, that when any thing hits him, wil strike himselfe again vpon it) would needs looke againe; as though I would perswade mine eyes, that they were deceiued. But alas, well haue I found, that Loue to a yeelding hart is a king; but to a resisting, is a tyrant. The more with arguments I shaked the stake, which he had planted in the grounde of my harte, the deeper still it sanke into it. But what meane I to speake of the causes of my loue, which is as impossi­ble to describe, as to measure the backside of heauen? Let this word suffice, I loue.

argument key no. 5 And that you may know I doo so, it was I that came in black armour to defende her picture, where I was both preuented, and beaten by you. And so, I that wai­ted[Page 79] here to do you seruice, haue now my self most need of succor. But wherupon got you your self this aparrel? said Zelmane. I had forgotten to tel you (said Musidorus) though that were one principall matter of my speech; so much am I now master of my owne minde. But thus it happened: being returned to Menalcas house, full of tormenting desire, after a while faynting vnder the weight, my courage stird vp my wit to seeke for some releese, before I yeelded to perish. At last this came into my head, that very euening, that I had to no purpose last vsed my horse and armour. I tolde Menalcas, that I was a Thessalian Gentle-man, who by mischaunce ha­uing killed a great fauorit of the Prince of that coūtry, was pursued so cruelly, that in no place, but either by fa­uour, or corruption, they would obtaine my destructi­on; and that therefore I was determined (till the fury of my persecutions might be asswaged) to disguise my selfe among the shephadrs of Arcadia, & (if it were pos­sible) to be one of them that were allowed the Princes presence; Because if the woorst should fall, that I were discouered, yet hauing gotten the acquaintance of the Prince, it might happen to moue his hart to protect me. Menalcas (being of an honest dispositiō) pittied my case, which my face through my inward torment made credible; and so (I giuing him largely for it) let me haue this rayment, instructing me in all the particulari­ties, touching himselfe, or my selfe, which I desired to know: yet not trusting so much to his constancic, as that I would lay my life, and life of my life, vpon it, I hired him to goe into Thessalia to a friend of mine, & to deliuer him a letter frō me; coniuring him to bring me as speedy an answeere as he could, because it imported[Page] me greatly to know, whether certaine of my friendes did yet possesse any fauour, whose intercessiōs I might vse for my restitution. He willingly tooke my letter, which being well sealed, indeed conteyned other mat­ter. For I wrote to my trustie seruant Calodoulus (whom you know) that assoone as he had deliuered the letter, he should keep him prisoner in his house, not suffering him to haue conference with any body, till he knewe my further pleasure: in all other respects that he should vse him as my brother. And thus is Menalcas gone, and I here a poore shepheard; more proud of this estate, thē of any kingdom: so manifest it is, that the highest point outward things can bring one vnto, is the contentmēt of the mind: with which, no estate; without which, all estates be miserable. Now haue I chosen this day, be­cause (as Menalcas tolde me) the other shepheards are called to make their sports, and hope that you wil with your credite, finde meanes to get me allowed among them. You neede not doubt (answered Zelmane) but that I will be your good mistresse: marrie the best way of dealing must be by Dametas, who since his blunt braine hath perceiued some fauour the Prince dooth beare vnto me (as without doubt the most seruile flatte­rie is lodged most easilie in the grossest capacitie; for their ordinarie conceite draweth a yeelding to their greaters, and then haue they not witte to learne the right degrees of duetie) is much more seruiceable vnto me, then I can finde any cause to wish him. And there­fore dispaire not to winne him: for euery present occa­sion will catch his senses, and his senses are masters of his sillie mind; onely reuerence him, and reward him, and with that bridle and saddle you shall well ride him.[Page 80] O heauen and earth (said Musidorus) to what a passe are our mindes brought, that from the right line of vertue, are wryed to these crooked shifts? But ô Loue, it is thou that doost it: thou changest name vpō name; thou dis­guisest our bodies, and disfigurest our mindes. But in deed thou hast reason, for though the wayes be foule, the iourneys end is most faire and honourable.

CHAP. 19.

1 The meanes of Musidorus his apprentisage vnto Dametas. 2 The preparation and place of the Pastorals. 3 The Lyons assault o Philoclea, and death by Zelmane. 4 The shee beares on Pamela, and death by Dorus. 5 The Io Paean of Dametas, 6 and his scape from the beare. 7 The victors praises. 8 Whence those beasts were sent.

NO more sweete Musidorus (said Zel­mane)argument key no. 1 of these philosophies; for here comes the very person of Da­metas. And so he did in deed, with a sword by his side, a forrest-bill on his neck, and a chopping-knife vn­der his girdle: in which prouided sorte he had euer gone, since the feare Zelmane had put him in. But he no sooner sawe her, but with head and armes he laid his reuerence a­fore her; inough to haue made any man forsweare all courtesie. And then in Basilius name, he did inuite her to walke downe to the place, where that day they were to haue the Pastoralles.

But when he spied Musidorus to be none of the shep­heards allowed in that place, he would faine haue per­swaded himselfe to vtter some anger, but that he durste not; yet muttering, and champing, as though his cudde troubled him; he gaue occasion to Musidorus to come neare him, and feine this tale of his owne life: That he was a younger brother of the shepheard Menalcas, by name Dorus, sent by his father in his tender age to A­thens, there to learne some cunning more then ordina­rie, that he might be the better liked of the Prince: and that after his fathers death, his brother Menalcas (latelie gone thether to fetch him home) was also deceased: where (vpon his death) he had charged him to seek the seruice of Dametas, and to be wholy, and euer guyded by him; as one in whose iudgement and integritie, the Prince had singular confidence. For token where of; he gaue to Dametas a good fumme of golde in redy coine, which Menelcas had bequeathed vnto him, vpon con­dition he should receiue this poore Dorus into his ser­uice, that his mind and manner might grow the better by his dayly example. Dametas, that of all manners of stile could, best conceiue of golden eloquence, being withall tickled by Musidorus prayses, had his brayne so turned, that he became slaue to that, which he, that shewed to be his seruant, offered to giue him: yet for countenance sake, he seemed very squeimish, in respect of the charge he had of the Princesse Pamela. But such was the secrete operation of the golde, helped with the perswasion of the Amazon Zelmane, (who sayde it was pittie so handsome a young man should be any where els, then with so good a master) that in the ende he a­greed (if that day he behaued himselfe so to the lyking[Page 81] of Basilius, as he might be cōtented) that then he would receiue him into his seruice.

And thus went they to the Lodge, where they foūd argument key no. 2 Gynecia and her daughters ready to go to the field, to delight themselues there a while, vntill the shepheards comming: whether also taking Zelmane with them, as they went, Dametas told them of Dorus, and desired he might be accepted there that day, in steed of his bro­ther Menalcas. As for Basilius, he staicd behind to bring the shepherds, with whom he meant to cōfer, to breed the better Zelmanes liking (which he onely regarded) while the other beautifull band came to the faire field, appointed for the shepherdish pastimes. It was indeed a place of delight; for thorow the middest of it, there ran a sweete brooke, which did both hold the eye o­pen with her azure streams, & yet seeke to close the eie with the purling noise it made vpon the pibble stones it ran ouer: the field it self being set in some places with roses, & in al the rest constantly preseruing a florishing greene; the Roses added such a ruddy shew vnto it, as though the field were bashfull at his owne beautie: a­bout it (as if it had bene to inclose a Theater) grew such a sort of trees, as eyther excellency of fruit, statelines of grouth, continuall greennes, or poeticall fancies haue made at any time famous. In most part of which there had bene framed by art such pleasant arbors, that (one tree to tree, answering another) they became a gallery alost from almost round about, which below gaue a perfect shadow, a pleasant refuge then from the chole­ricke looke of Phoebus.

In this place while Gynecia walked hard by them, ca­rying argument key no. 3 many vnquiet cōtentions about her, the Ladies[Page] sate them downe, inquiring many questiōs of the shep­heard Dorus; who (keeping his eie still vpon Pamela) an­swered with such a trembling voice, & abashed coūte­nance, & oftentimes so far from the matter, that it was some sport to the young Ladies, thinking it want of e­ducation, which made him so discountenaunced with vnwoonted presence. But Zelmane that saw in him the glasse of her owne miserie, taking the hande of Philo­clea, and with burning kisses setting it close to her lips (as if it should stande there like a hand in the margine of a Booke, to note some saying worthy to be marked) began to speake these wordes. O Loue, since thou art so changeable in mens estates, how art thou so constāt in their torments? when sodainly there came out of a wood a monstrous Lion, with a she Bear̄e not far from him, of litle lesse fiercenes, which (as they ghest) hauing bene hūted in Forests far of, were by chaūce come the­ther, where before such beastes had neuer bene seene. Then care, not feare; or feare, not for themselues, al­tered some thing the coūtenances of the two Louers, but so, as any man might perceiue, was rather an assem­bling of powers, then dismaiednes of courage. Philoclea no sooner espied the Liō, but that obeying the cōman­dement of feare, she lept vp, & ran to the lodge-ward, as fast as her delicate legs could carrie her, while Dorus drew Pamela behind a tree, where she stood quaking like the Partridge, on which the Hawke is euē ready to seaze. But the Lion (seing Philoclea run away) bent his race to her-ward, & was ready to seaze him selfe on the pray, when Zelmane (to whome daunger then was a cause of dreadlesnes, all the cōpositions of her elemēts being nothing but fierie) with swiftnesse of desire crost[Page 82] him, and with force of affection strake him such a blow vpon his chine, that she opened al his body: wherwith the valiant beast turning vpō her with open iawes, she gaue him such a thrust thorow his brest, that al the Liō could do, was with his paw to teare of the mantle and sleeue of Zelmane, with a little scratch, rather then a wound; his death-blow hauing takē away the effect of his force. But there withall he fell downe, & gaue Ze­lmane leasure to take of his head, to carrie it for a present to her Ladie Philoclea: who all this while (not know­ing what was done behind her) kept on her course, like Arethusa when she ran from Alpheus; her light apparell being carried vp with the winde, that much of those beauties she would at another time haue willingly hid­den, was present to the sight of the twise wounded Zel­mane. Which made Zelmane not folow her ouer hastily, lest she should too soone depriue her selfe of that plea­sure: But carying the Lions head in her hand, did not fully ouertake her, till they came to the presence of Ba­silius. Nether were they lōg there, but that Gynecia came thether also: who had bene in such a traunce of mu­sing, that Zelmane was fighting with the Lion, before she knew of any Lions cōming: but then affection re­sisting, and the soone ending of the fight preuenting all extremitie of feare, she marked Zelmanes fighting. And when the Lions head was of, as Zelmane ran after Philoclea, so she could not find in her hart but run after Zelmane: so that it was a new sight, Fortune had pre­pared to those woods, to see these great personages thus runne one after the other: each carried forward with an inwarde violence: Philoclea with such feare, that she thought she was still in the Lions mouth:[Page] Zelmane with an eager and impatient delight, Gynecioae with wings of Loue, flying they neither knew, nor ca­red to know whether. But now, being all come be­fore Basilius amazed with this sight, and feare hauing such possessiō in, the faire Philoclea, that her bloud durst not yet to come to her face, to take away the name of palenesse from hec most pure whitenes, Zelmane knee­led down, and presented the Lions head vnto her. On­ly Ladie (said she) here see you the punishment of that vnnatural beast, which cōtrary to her owne kind wold haue wronged Princes bloud, guided with such traite­rous eies, as durst rebell against your beauty. Happy am I, and my beautie both (answered the sweete Philoclea then blushing, for feare had bequeathed his roome to his kinsman bashfulnes) that you excellent Amazon, were there to teach him good manners. And euen thankes to that beautie (answered Zelmane) which can giue an edge to the bluntest swordes? There Philoclea told her father, how it had hapned: but as she had tur­ned her eyes in her tale to Zelmane, she perceiued some bloud vpō Zelmanes shoulder, so that starting with the louely grace of pitty, she shewed it to her Father and mother: who, as the nurse sometimes with ouer-much kissing may forget to giue the babe sucke, so had they with too much delighting, in beholding and praysing Zelmane, left of to marke whether she needed succour. But then they ran both vnto her, like a father and mo­ther to an onely childe, and (though Zelmane assured them, it was nothing) would needes see it; Gynecia ha­uing skill in surgery, an arte in those daies much estee­med, because it serued to vertuous courage, which euē Ladies would (euē with the contēpt of courage) seeme[Page 83] to cherish. But looking vpon it (which gaue more in­ward bleeding woūds to Zelmane, for she might some­times feele Philocleas touch, whiles she helped her mo­ther) she found it was indeed of no great importance: yet applied she a pretious baulme vnto it, of power to heale a greater griefe.

But euen then, & not before, they remēbred Pamela, argument key no. 4 & therefore Zelmane (thinking of her friend Dorus) was running back to be satisfied, whē they might all see Pa­mela cōming between Dorus & Dametas, hauing in her hād the paw of a Beare, which the shepheard Dorus had newly presented vnto her, desiring her to accept it, as of such a beast, which though she deserued death for her presumption, yet was her will to be esteemed, since she could make so sweet a choice. Dametas for his part came piping and dauncing, the meriest man in a parish. But whē he came so neere, as he might be heard of Ba­silius, he would needs breake thorow his eares with this ioyfull song of their good successe.

NOw thanked be the great God Pan, argument key no. 5
which thus preserues my loued life:
Thanked be I that keepe a man,
who ended hath this fearefull strife:
For if my man must praises haue,
what then must I that keepe the knaue?
For as the Moone the eies doth please,
with gentle beames not hurting sight:
Yet hath sir Sunne the greatest praise,
because from him doth come her light:
So if my man must praises haue,
what then must I that keepe the knaue?

argument key no. 4 Being al now come together, & all desirous to know each others aduētures, Pamelas noble hart would needs gratefully make knowne the valiāt mean of her safety: which (directing her speach to her mother) she did in this māner. As soone (said she) as ye were all run away, and that I hoped to be in safetie, there came out of the same woods a foule horrible Beare, which (fearing be­like to deale while the Lion was present, as soone as he was gone) came furiously towardes the place where I was, and this youug shepheard left alone by me; I truly (not guilty of any wisedome, which since they lay to my charge, because they say, it is the best refuge against that beast, but euē pure feare bringing forth that effect of wisedome) fell downe flat of my face, needing not coūterfait being dead, for indeed I was litle better. But this shepheard hauing no other weapon, but that knife you see, standing before the place where I lay, so beha­ued him selfe, that the first sight I had (when I thought my selfe nearer Charons ferry,) was the shepheard shew­ing me his bloudy knife in token of victory. I pray you (saide Zelmane, speaking to Dorus, whose valour she was carefull to haue manifested) in what sorte, so ill wea­poned, could you atchiue this enterprise? Noble La­die (saide Dorus) the manner of these beastes fighting with any man, is to stande vp vpon their hinder feete: and so this did, & being ready to giue me a shrewd im­bracement, I thinke, the God Pan, (euer carefull of the chiefe blessings of Arcadia) guided my hand so iust to the hart of the beast, that neither she could once touch me, nor (which is the only matter in this worthy remē ­brāce) breed any dāger to the Princesse. For my part, I am rather (withall subiected humblenes) to thanke her excellencies, since the duety thereunto gaue me harte[Page 84] to saue my selfe, then to receiue thankes for a deede, which was her onely inspiring. And this Dorus spake, keeping affection as much as he could, backe from cō ­ming into his eyes and gestures. But Zelmane (that had the same Character in her heart) could easily discerne it, and therefore to keepe him the longer in speach, de­sired to vnderstand the conclusion of the matter; and how the honest Dametas was escaped.

Nay (said Pamela) none shall take that office from argument key no. 6 my selfe, being so much bound to him as I am, for my education. And with that word (scorne borrowing the countenance of myrth) somewhat she smiled, and thus spake on: When (said she) Dorus made me assu­redly perceiue, that all cause of feare was passed (the truth is) I was ashamed to finde my selfe alone with this shepheard: and therefore looking about me, if I could see any bodie; at length we both perceiued the gentle Dametas, lying with his breast and head as farre as he could thrust himselfe into a bush: drawing vp his legges as close vnto him as hee coulde: for, like a man of a very kind nature, soone to take pittie of him­selfe, he was full resolued not to see his owne death. And when this shepheard pushed him, bidding him to be of good cheere, it was a good while, ere we could perswade him, that Dorus was not the beare: so that he was faine to pull him out by the heeles, & shew him the beast, as deade as he could wish it: which you may beleeue me, was a very ioyful sight vnto him. But then he forgate al curtesie, for he fel vpon the beast, giuing it many a manfull wound: swearing by much, it was not wel such beasts shuld be suffered in a cōmō welth. And then my gouernour, as full of ioy, as before of feare,[Page] came dauncing and singing before vs as euen now you saw him. Well wel (said Basilius) I haue not chosen Dametas for his fighting, nor for his discoursing, but for his plainenesse and honestie, and therein I know he will not deceaue me.

argument key no. 7 But then he told Pamela (not so much because she should know it, as because he would tell it) the won­derfull act Zelmane had perfourmed, which Gynecia likewise spake off, both in such extremitie of praising, as was easie to be seene, the constructions of their speach. might best be made by the Grammer rules of affecti­on. Basilius told with what a gallant grace shee ranne with the Lyons head in her hand, like another Pallas with the spoiles of Gorgon. Gynecia sware, shee sawe the face of the young Hercules killing the Nemean Lion, & all with a grateful assent confirmed the same praises: onely poore Dorus (though of equall desert, yet not proceeding of equall estate) should haue bene left for­gotten, had not Zelmane againe with great admiration, begun to speake of him; asking, whether it were the fashion or no, in Arcadia, that sheepherds should per­forme such valorous enterprises. This Basilius (hauing the quicke sense of a louer) tooke, as though his Mi­stres had giuen a secret reprehension, that he had not shewed more gratefulnesse to Dorus; and therefore (as nymblie as he could) enquired of his estate, adding promise of great rew ards: among the rest, offering to him, if he would exercise his courage in souldierie, he would commit some charge vnto him vnder his Lieu­tenant Philanax. But Dorus (whose ambition clymed by another stayre) hauing first answered touching his estate, that he was brother to the shepheard Menalcas; [Page 85] who among other, was wont to resort to the Princes presence, & excused his going to souldierie, by the vn­aptnesse he found in himselfe that way: he told Basili­us, that his brother in his last testament had willed him to serue Dametas; and therefore (for due obedience thereunto) he would thinke his seruice greatly rewar­ded, if he might obtaine by that meane to liue in the sight of his Prince, and yet practise his owne chosen vocation. Basilius (liking well his goodly shape and handsome manner) charged Dametas to receiue him like a sonne into his house: saying, that his valour, and Dametas truth would be good bulwarkes against such mischiefes, as (he sticked not to say) were threat­ned to his daughter Pamela.

Dametas, no whit out of countenance with all that argument key no. 2 had bene said (because he had no worse to fal into then his owne) accepted Dorus: and with all, telling Basilius, that some of the shepheards were come; demaunded in what place he would see their sports: who first cu­rious to know whether it were not more requisite for Zelmanes hurt to rest, then sit vp at those pastimes; and she (that felt no wound but one) earnestly desiring to haue Pastorals, Basilius commanded it should be at the gate of the lodge: where the throne of the Prince be­ing (according to the auncient manner) he made Zel­mane sit betweene him & his wife therin, who thought her selfe betweene drowning and burning: and the two young Ladies of either side the throne, and so pre­pared their eyes and eares to bee delighted by the shepheards.

But before al of them were assembled to begin their argument key no. 8 sports, there came a fellow, who being out of breath (or[Page] seeming so to be for haste) with humble hastines told Basilius, that his Mistres, the Lady Cecropia, had sent him to excuse the mischance of her beastes ranging in that dāgerous fort, being happened by the folly of the kee­per; who thinking himself able to rule them, had caried them abroad, & so was deceiued: whom yet (if Basilius would punish for it) she was readie to deliuer. Basilius made no other answere, but that his Mistres if shee had any more such beastes, should cause them to be killed: and then he told his wife & Zelmane of it, because they should not feare those woods; as though they harbo­red such beasts, where the like had neuer bene seene. But Cynccia tooke a further conceit of it, mistrusting Cecropia, because shee had heard much of the diuellish wickednesse of her heart, and that particularly she did her best to bring vp her sonne Amphialus (being bro­thers sonne to Basilius) to aspire to the crowne, as next heire male after Basilius; and therefore saw no reason, but that she might coniecture, it proceeded rather of some mischieuous practise, than of misfortune. Yet did she onely vtter her doubt to her daughters, thin­king, since the worst was past, shee would attend a fur­ther occasion, least ouer much haste might seeme to proceede of the ordinarie mislike betweene sisters in Lawe: onely they maruelled, that Basilius looked no further into it; who (good man) thought so much of his late conceiued common wealth, that all other matters were but digressions vnto him. But the shep­heards were ready, and with wel handling themselues, called their senses to attend their pastimes.

The first Eclogues.

BASILIVS, because Zelmane so would haue it, vsed the artificiall day of torches, to lighten the sports their inuētions could minister. And yet because many more shepheards were newly come, then at the first; he did in a gentle manner chastise the cowardise of the fugitiue shepheards: with making them (for that night) the Torch-bearers, and the others later come, he willed with all freedome of speech and behauiour, to keepe their accustomed method. Which while they prepared to do, Dametas, who much disdained (since his late authority) all his old companions, brought his seruant Dorus in good acquaintance and allowance of thē; & himselfe stood like a directer ouer thē, with nod­ding, gaping, winking, or stamping shewing how he did like, or mislike those things he did not vnderstand. The first sports the shepheards shewed, were full of such leapes & gambols, as being accorded to the Pipe (which they bare in their mouthes, euen as they daun­ced) made a right picture of their chiefe god Pan, and his companions the Satyres. Then would they cast a­way their Pipes; and holding hand in hand, daunce as it were in a braule, by the onely cadence of their voices, which they would vse in singing some short coplets, whereto the one halfe beginning, the other halfe should answere. As the one halfe saying,

We loue, and haue our loues rewarded.

The others would aunswere.

We loue, and are no whit regarded.

[Page] The first againe.

We finde most sweete affections snare,

With like tune it should be as in quire sent back againe.

That sweete, but sower despairefull care.

A third time likewise thus:

Who can despaire, whom hope doth beare?

The aunswere.

And who can hope, that feeles despaire?

Then all ioyning their voyces, and dauncing a faster measure, they would couclude with some such words:

As without breath, no pipe doth moue,
No musike kindly without loue.

Hauing thus varied both their songs and daunces into diuers sorts of inuentions; their last sport was one of them to prouoke another to a more large expressing of his passions: which Lalus (accounted one of the best singers amongst them) hauing marked in Dorus daun­cing, no lesse good grace & hansome behauiour, then extreame tokens of a trauelled minde; began first with his Pipe, and then with his voice, thus to chalenge Do­rus, and was by him answered in the vnderwritten sort.

Lalus and Dorus.
Lalus.
Come Dorus, come, let songs thy sorowes signifie:
And if for want of vse thy minde ashamed is,
That verie shame with Loues high title dignifie.
No stile is held for base, where Loue well named is:
Ech eare suckes vp the words, a true loue scattereth,
And plaine speach oft, then quaint phrase, better framed is.
Dorus.
Nightingales seldome sing, the Pie still chattercth:
The wood cries most, before it throughly kindled be,
Deadly wounds inward bleed, ech fleight sore mattereth.
Hardly they heard, which by good hunters singled be.
Shallow brookes murmure most, deep silent slide away;
Nor true loue loues those loues with others mingled be.
Lalus.
If thou wilt not be seene, thy face goe hide away,
Be none of vs, or els maintaine our fashion:
Who frownes at other feastes, dooth better bide away.
But if thou hast a Loue, in that Loues passion,
I challenge thee by shew of her perfection,
Which of vs two deseructh most compassion.
Dorus.
Thy challenge great, but greater my protection:
Sing then, and see (for now thou hast inflamed me)
Thy health too meane a match for my infection.
No, though the heau'ns for high attempts haue blamed me,
Yet high is my attempt. O Muse historisie
Her praise, whose praise to learne your skill hath framed me.
Lalus.
Muse hold your peace: but thou, my God Pan, glorifie
My Kalas giftes: who with all good gifts filled is.
Thy pipe, ô Pan, shall helpe, though I sing sorilie.
A heape of sweetes she is, where nothing spilled is;
Who though she be no Bee, yet full of honie is:
A Lillie field, with plowe of Rose which tilled is.
Milde as a Lambe, more daintie then a Conie is:
Her eyes my eyesight is, her conuersation
More gladde to me, then to a miser monie is.
What coye account she makes of estimation?
How nice to touch? how all her speeches peized be?
A Nimph thus turnde, but mended in translation.
Dorus.
Such Kala is: but ah, my fancies raysed be
In one, whose name to name were high presumption,
Since vertues all, to make her title, pleased be.
O happie Gods, which by inward assumption
Enioy her soule, in bodies faire possession,
And keep it ioynde, searing your seates consumption.
How oft with raine of teares skies make confession,
Their dwellers rapt with sight of her perfection
From heau'nly throne to her heau'n vse digression?
Of best things then what world can yeeld confection
To liken her? Decke yours with your comparison:
She is her selfe, of best things the collection.
Lalus.
How oft my dolefull Sire cried to me, tarrie sonne
When first he spied my loue? how oft he said to me,
Thou art no souldier fitte for Cupids garrison?
My sonne, keepe this, that my long toyle hath laide to me:
Loue well thine owne: me thinkes, woolles whitenes passeth all:
I neuer found long loue such wealth hath paide to me.
This winde he spent: but when my Kala glasseth all
My sight in her faire limmes, I then assure my selfe,
Not rotten sheepe, but high crownes she surpasseth all.
Can I be poore, that her golde haire procure my selfe?
Want I white wooll, whose eyes her white skinne garnished?
Till I get her, shall I to keepe enure my selfe?
Dorus.
How oft, when reason saw, loue of her harnised
With armour of my hart, he cried, O vanitie,
To set a pearle in steele so meanely varnished?
Looke to thy selfe; reach not beyond humanitie:
Her minde, beames, state farre from thy weake wings banished:
And Loue, which louer hurts is inhumanitie.
Thus Reason said: but she came, Reason vanished;
Her eyes so maistering me, that such obiection
Seemde but to spoyle the foode of thoughts long famished.
Her peereles height my minde to high erection
Drawes vp; and if hope-fayling ende liues pleasure,
Of fayrer death how can I make election?
Lalus.
Once my well-waiting eyes espied my treasure,
With sleeues turnde vp, loose haire, and brest enlarged,
Her fathers corne (mouing her faire limmes) measure.
O cried I, of so meane worke be discharged:
Measure my case, how by thy beauties filling
With seede of woes my hart brimme-full is charged.
Thy father bids thee saue, and chides for spilling.
Saue then my soule, spill not my thoughts well heaped,
No louely praise was euer got by killing.
These bolde words she did heare, this fruite I reaped,
That she, whose looke alone might make me blessed,
Did smile on me, and then away she leaped.
Dorus.
Once, ô sweete once, I saw with dread oppressed
Her whom I dread; so that with prostrate lying
Her length the earth in Loues chiefe clothing dressed.
I saw that riches fall, and fell a crying;
Let not dead earth enioy so deare a couer,
But deck therewith my soule for your sake dying.
Lay all your feare vpon your fearefull louer:
Shine eyes on me, that both our liues be guarded;
So I your sight, you shall your selues recouer.
I cried, and was with open rayes rewarded:
But straight they fledde, summond by cruell honor,
Honor, the cause, desart is not regarded.
Lalus.
This mayde, thus made for ioyes, ô Pan bemone her,
That without loue she spends her yeares of loue:
So faire a fielde would well become an owner.
And if enchantment can a harde hart moue,
Teach me what circle may acquaint her sprite,
Affections charmes in my behalfe to proue.
The circle is my (round about her) sight:
The power I will inuoke dwelles in her eyes:
My charme should be, she haunt me day and night.
Dorus.
Farre other care, ô Muse, my sorrowtries,
Bent to such one, in whom, my selfe must say,
Nothing can mend that point that in her lies.
What circle then in so rare force beares swaye?
Whose sprite all sprites can spoile, raise, damne, or saue:
No charme holdes her, but well possesse she may;
Possese she doth, and makes my soule her slaue:
My eyes the bandes, my thoughts the fatall knot.
No thralles like them that inward bondage haue.
Lalus.
Kala at length conclude my lingring lotte:
Disdaine me not, although I be not faire.
Who is an heire of many hundred sheep
Doth beauties keep, which neuer Sunne can burne,
Nor stormes doo turne: fairenes serues oft to wealth.
Yet all my health I place in your good-will.
Which if you will (ô doo) bestow on me,
Such as you see, such still you shall me finde.
Constant and kind: my sheep your foode shall breed,
Their wooll your weede, I will you Musique yeeld
In flowrie fielde; and as the day begins
With twenty ginnes we will the small birds take,
And pastimes make, as Nature things hath made.
But when in shade we meet of mirtle bowes,
Then Loue allowes, our pleasures to enrich,
The thought of which doth passe all worldly pelfe.
Dorus.
Lady your selfe, whom nether name I dare,
And titles are but spots to such a worthe,
Heare plaints come forth from dungeon of my minde.
The noblest kinde reiects not others woes.
I haue no shewes of wealth: my wealth is you,
My beauties hewe your beames, my health your deeds;
My minde for weeds your vertues liuerie weares.
My foode is teares; my tunes way menting yeeld:
Despaire my field; the flowers spirits warrs:
My day nerve cares; my ginnes my daily sight,
In which do light small birds of thoughts orethrowne:
My pastimes none: time passeth on my fall:
Nature made all, but me of do lours made:
I finde no shade, but where my Sunne doth burne:
No place to turne; without, within it fryes:
Nor helpe by life or death who liuing dyes.
Lalus.
But if my Kala this my suite denies,
Which so much reason beares,
Let crowes picke out mine eyes, which saw too much:
If still her minde be such,
My earthy moulde will melte in watrie teares.
Dorus.
My earthy moulde doth melte in watrie teares,
And they againe resolue
To aire of sighes, sighes to the hartes fire turne,
Which doth to ashes burne:
So doth my life within itselfe dissolue,
Lalus.
So doth my life within it selfe dissolue,
That I am like a flower
New plucked from the place where it did breed,
Life showing, dead indeed:
Such force hath Loue aboue poore Natures power.
Dorus.
Such force hath Loue aboue poore Natures power,
That I growe like a shade,
Which being nought seems somewhat to the eyen,
While that one body shine.
Oh he is mard that is for others made.
Lalus.
Oh he is mard that is for others made.
Which thought doth marre my piping declaration,
Thinking how it hath mard my shepheards trade.
Now my hoarse voice doth faile this occupation,
And others long to tell their loues condition:
Of singing take to thee the reputation.
Dorus.
Of singing take to thee the reputation
New friend of mine; I yeeld to thy habilitie:
My soule doth seeke another estimation.
But ah my Muse I would thou hadst agilitie,
To worke my Goddesse so by thy inuention,
On me to cast those eyes, where shine nobilitie.
Seen, and vnknowne; heard, but without attention.

THis Eclogue betwixt Lalus & Dorus, of euery one of the beholders receiued great commendations. When Basilius called to a yong shepheard, who nether had daunced nor song with thē, but layne al this while vpō the ground at the foot of a cypresse tree, in so deep a melancholy, as though his mind were banished from the place he loued, to be in prison in his body: & desired him he would begin some Eclogue, with some o­ther of the shepheards, according to the accustomed guise: or els declare the discourse of his owne fortune, vnknowne to him; as being a straunger in that coūtry. But he praied the King to pardon him, the time being far too ioyful to suffer the rehersall of his miseries. Yet, to satisfy Basilius some way, he sange this songe, he had learned before he had subiected his thoughts to ac­knowledge no maister, but a mistresse.

AS I my little flocke on Ister banke
(A little flocke; but well my pipe they couthe)
Did piping leade, the Sunne already sanke
Beyond our worlde, and ere I got my boothe
Each thing with mantle black the night doth scothe;
Sauing the glowe worme, which would curteous be
Of that small light oft watching shepheards see.
The welkin had full niggardly enclosed
In cofer of dimme clowdes his siluer groates,
Icleped starres; each thing to rest disposed:
The caues were full, the mountaines voide of goates:
The birds eyes closed closde their chirping notes.
As for the Nightingale woodmusiques King,
It August was, he daynde not then to sing.
[Page]
Amid my sheepe, though I sawe nought to feare
Yet (for I nothing sawe) I scared sore;
Then fonde I which thing is a charge to beare
As for my sheepe I dradded mickle more
Then euer for my selfe since I was bore:
I sate me downe: for see to goe ne could,
And sange vnto my sheepe lest stray they should.
The songe I sange old Lanquet had me taught,
Lanquet, the shepheard best swift Ister knewe,
For clerkly reed, and hating what is naught,
For faithfull hart, cleane hands, and mouth as true:
With his sweet skill my skillesse youth he drewe,
To haue a feeling tast of him that sitts
Beyond the heauen, far more beyond your witts.
He said, the Musique best thilke powers pleasd
Was iumpe concorde betweene our wit and will:
Where highest notes to godlines are raisd,
And lowest sinke not downe to iote of ill:
With old true tales he woont mine eares to fill,
How sheepheards did of yore, how now they thriue,
Spoiling their flock, or while twixt the they striue.
He liked me, but pitied lustfull youth:
His good strong staffe my slippry yeares vpbore:
He still hop'd well, because he loued truth;
Till forste to parte, with harte and eyes euen sore,
To worthy Coriden he gaue me ore.
But thus in okes true shade recounted he
Which now in nights deepe shade sheep heard of me.
[Page 91]
Such maner time there was (what time I n'ot)
When all this Earth, this damme or mould of ours
Was onely won'd with such as beastes begot:
Vnknowne as then were they that builded towers:
The cattell wild, or tame, in natures bowers
Might freely rome, or rest, as seemed them:
Man was not man their dwellings in to hem.
The beastes had sure some beastly pollicie:
For nothing can endure where order n'is.
For once the Lion by the Lambe did lie;
The fearefull Hinde the Leopard did kisse:
Hurtles was Tygers pawe and Serpents hisse.
This thinke I well, the beasts with courage clad
Like Senators a harmeles empire had.
At which whether the otbers did repine,
(For enuie harbreth most in feeblest hartes)
Or that they all to chaunging did encline,
(As euen in beasts their dames leaue chaunging parts)
The multitude to Ioue a suite empartes,
With neighing, blaying, braying, and barking,
Roring, and howling for to haue a King.
A King, in language theirs they said they would:
(For then their language was a perfect speech)
The birdes likewise with chirpes, and puing could
Cackling, and chattring, that of Ioue beseech.
Onely the owle still warnde them not to seech
So hastily that which they would repent:
But sawe they would, and he to deserts went.
[Page]
IOUE wisely said (for wisedome wisely sayes)
O beasts, take heed what you of me desire.
Rulers will thinke all things made them to please,
And soone forget the swincke due to their hire.
But since you will, part of my heau'nly fire
I will you lende; the rest your selues must giue,
That it both seene and felte may with you liue.
Full glad they were and tooke the naked sprite,
Which streight the Earthy clothed in his claye:
The Lion, harte; the Ounce gaue actiue might;
The Horse, good shape; the Sparrow, lust to playe;
Nightingale, voice, entising songes to saye.
Elephant gaue a perfect memorie:
And Parot, ready tongue, that to applie.
The Foxe gaue crafte; the Dog gaue flatterie;
Asse, pacience; the Mole, a working thought;
Eagle, high looke; Wolfe secrete crueltie:
Monkie, sweet breath; the Cow, her faire eyes brought;
The Ermion, whitest skinne, spotted with nought;
The sheep, mild-seeming face; climing, the Beare;
The Stagge did giue the harme efchewing feare.
The Hare, her sleights; the Cat, his melancholie;
Ante, industrie; and Connie, skill to builde;
Cranes, order; Storkes, to be appearing holie;
Camaeleon, ease to chaunge; Ducke, ease to yelde;
Crocodile, teares, which might be falsely spilde:
Ape great thing gaue, though he did mowing stand,
The instrument of instruments, the hand.
[Page 92]
Ech other beast likewise his present brings:
And (but they drad their Prince they ought should want)
They all consented were to giue him wings:
And aye more awe towards him for to plant,
To their owne worke this priuiledge they graunt,
That from thenceforth to all eternitie,
No beast should frecly speake, but onely he.
Thus Man was made; thus Man their Lord became:
Who at the first, wanting, or hiding pride,
He did to beastes best vse his cunning frame;
With water drinke, herbes meate, and naked hide,
And fellow-like let his dominion slide;
Not in his sayings saying I, but we:
As if he meant his lordship common be.
But when his seate so rooted he had found,
That they now skilld not, how from him to wend;
Then gan in guiltlesse earth full many a wound,
Iron to seeke, which gainst it selfe should bend,
To teare the bowels, that good corne should send.
But yet the common Damme none did bemone;
Because (though hurt) they neuer heard her grone.
Then gan the factions in the beastes to breed;
Where helping weaker sort, the nobler beastes,
(As Tygers, leopards, beares, and Lions seed)
Disdaind with this, in deserts sought their restes;
Where famine rauine taught their hungrie chestes,
That craftily he forst them to do ill,
Which being done he afterwards would kill.
[Page]
For murthers done, which neuer erst was seene,
By those great beastes, as for the weakers good,
He chose themselues his guarders for to bene,
Gainst those of might, of whom in feare they stood,
As horse and dogge, not great, but gentle blood:
Blith were the commons cattell of the fielde,
Tho when they saw their foen of greatnes kilde.
But they or spent, or made of slender might,
Then quickly did the meaner cattell finde,
The great beames gone, the house on shoulders light:
For by and by the horse faire bitts did binde:
The dogge was in a coller taught his kinde.
As for the gentle birds like case might rewe
When falcon they, and gossehauke saw in mewe.
Worst fell to smallest birds, and meanest heard,
Whom now his owne, full like his owne he vsed.
Yet first but wooll, or fethers off he teard:
And when they were well vs' de to be abused,
For hungrie teeth their flesh with teeth he brused:
At length for glutton taste he did them kill:
At last for sport their sillie liues did spill.
But yet ô man, rage not beyond they neede:
Deeme it no gloire to swell in tyrannie.
Thou art of blood; ioy not to see things bleede:
Thou fearest death; thinke they are ioth to die.
A plaint of guiltlesse hurt doth pierce the skie.
And you poore beastes, in patience bide your hell,
Or know your strengths, and then you shall do well.
[Page 93]
Thus did I sing, and pipe eight sulien houres
To sheepe, whom loue, not knowledge, made to heare,
Now fancies fits, now fortunes balefull stowers:
But then I homewards call'd my lambkins deare:
For to my dimmed eyes beganne t' appeare
The night growne old, her blacke head waxen gray,
Sure shepherds signe, that morne should soone fetch day.

According to the nature of diuerse eares, diuerse iudgements streight followed: some praising his voice, others his words fit to frame a pastorall stile, o­thers the strangenes of the tale, and scanning what he shuld meane by it. But old Geron (who had borne him a grudge euer since in one of their Eclogues he had taken him vp ouer-bitterly) tooke hold of this occasion to make his reuenge, and said, He neuer saw thing worse proportioned, then to bring in a tale of he knew not what beastes at such a sport-meeting, when rather some song of loue, or matter for ioyfull melody was to be brought forth. But, said he, This is the right conceipt of young men, who thinke, then they speake wiseliest, when they cannot vnderstand themselues. But little did the melancholike shepherd regard either his dispraises, or the others praises, who had set the foundation of his honour there; where he was most despised. And therefore he returning againe to the traine of his deso­late pensiuenesse, Geron inuited Histor to answere him in Eclogue-wise; who indeed hauing bene long in loue with the faire Kala, and now by Lalus ouergone; was growne into a detestation of marriage. But thus it was.

Geron. Histor.
Geron.
In faith, good Histor, long is your delay,
From holy marriage sweete and surest meane:
Our foolish lust in honest rules to stay.
I pray thee doo to Lalus sample leane:
Thou seest, how friske, and iolly now he is,
That last day seem'd, he could not chew a beane.
Beleeue me man, there is no greater blisse,
Then is the quiet ioy of louing wife;
Which who so wants, halfe of himselfe doth misse.
Friend without change, playfellow without strife.
Foode without fulnes, counsaile without pride,
Is this sweet doubling of our single life.
Histor.
No doubt to whom so good chance did betide,
As for to finde a pasture strawed with golde,
He were a foole, if there he did not bide.
Who would not haue a Phoenix if he could?
The humming Waspe, if it had not a stinge,
Before all flies the Waspe accept I would.
But this bad world, few golden fields doth bring,
Phoenix but one, of Crowes we millions haue:
The Waspe seemes gay, but is a combrous thing.
If many Kalaes our Arcadia gaue,
Lalus example I would soone ensue,
And thinke, I did my selfe from sorrow saue.
But of such wiues we finde a slender crew;
Shrewdnes so stirres, pride so puffes vp the hart,
They seldome ponder what to them is due.
With meager lookes, as if they still did smart;
Puiling, and whimpring, or else scolding flat,
Make home more paine then following of the cart.
Ether dull silence, or eternall chat;
Still contrarie to what her husband sayes;
If he do praise the dog, she likes the cat.
Austere she is, when he would honest playes;
And gamesome then, when he thinkes on his sheepe;
She bids him goe, and yet from iorney stayes.
She warre doth euer with his kinsfolke keepe,
And makes them fremb'd, who frinds by nature are,
Enuying shallow toyes with malice deepe.
And if forsooth there come some new found ware,
The little coine his sweating browes haue got,
Must goe for that, if for her lowres he care:
Or els; Nay faith, mine is the lucklest lot,
That euer fell to honest woman yet:
No wife but I hath such a man, God wot.
Such is their speech, who be of sober wit;
But who doo let their tongues shew well their rage,
Lord, what bywords they speake, what spite they spit?
The house is made a very lothsome cage,
Wherein the birde doth neuer sing but cry;
With such a will as nothing can asswage.
Dearely the seruants doo their wages buy,
Reuil'd for ech small fault, sometimes for none:
They better liue that in a gaile doo lie.
Let other fowler spots away be blowne;
For I seeke not their shame, but still me thinkes,
A better life it is to lye alone.
Geron.
Who for ech fickle feare from vertue shrinkes,
Shall in his life embrace no worthy thing:
No mortall man the cuppe of suretie drinkes.
The heau'ns doo not good haps in handfuls bring,
But let vs pike our good from out much bad:
That still our little world may know his king.
But certainly so long we may be glad,
While that we doo what nature doth require,
And for th' euent we neuer ought be sad.
Man oft is plag'de with aire, is burnt with fire,
In water dround, in earth his buriall is;
And shall we not therefore their vse desire?
Nature aboue all things requireth this,
That we our kind doo labour to maintaine;
Which drawne-out line doth hold all humane blisse.
Thy father iustly may of thee complaine,
If thou doo not repay his deeds for thee,
In granting vnto him a grandsires gaine.
Thy common-wealth may rightly grieued be,
Which must by this immortall be preserued,
If thus thou murther thy posteritie.
His very being he hath not deserued,
Who for a selfe-conceipt will that forbeare,
Whereby that being aye must be conserued.
And God forbid, women such cattell were,
As you paint them: but well in you I finde,
No man doth speake aright, who speakes in seare.
Who onely sees the ill is worse then blind.
These fiftie winters maried haue I beene;
And yet finde no such faults in womankind.
I haue a wife worthie to be a Queene,
So well she can command, and yet obay;
In ruling of a house so well shee's seene.
And yet in all this time, betwixt vs tway,
We beare our double yoke with such consent,
That neuer past foule word, I dare well say.
But these be your loue-toyes, which still are spent
In lawlesse games, and loue not as you should,
But with much studie learne late to repent.
How well last day before our Prince you could
Blinde Cupids workes with wonder testifie?
Yet now the roote of him abase you would.
Goe to, goe to, and Cupid now applie
To that where thou thy Cupid maist auowe,
And thou shalt finde, in women vertues lie.
Sweete supple mindes which soone to wisdome bowe
Where they by wisdomes rule directed are,
And are not forst fonde thraldome to allow.
As we to get are fram'd, so they to spare:
We made for paine, our paines they made to cherish:
We care abroad, and they of home haue care.
O Histor, seeke within thy selfe to flourish:
Thy house by thee must liue, or els be gone:
And then who shall the name of Histor nourish?
Riches of children passe a Princes throne;
Which touch the fathers hart with secret ioy,
When without shame he faith, these be mine owne.
Marrie therefore; for marriage will destroy
Those passions which to youthfull head doo clime
Mothers and Nurses of all vaine annoy.

ALl the assemblie laught at the lustines of the old fe­lowe, and easilie perceiued in Histor, he liked Lalus fortune better, then he loued his person. But Basilius to entermixe with these light notes of libertie, some sadder tune, set to the key of his own passion, not seeing[Page] there Strephon or Klaius, (who called thence by Vranias letter, were both gone to continue their suite, like two true runners, both employing their best speed, but not one hindring the other) he called to one Lamo of their acquaintance, and willed him to sing some one of their songs; which he redily performed in this doble Sestine.

Strephon. Klaius.
Strephon.
You Gote-heard Gods, that loue the grassie mountaines,
You Nimphes that haunt the springs in pleasant vallies,
You Satyrs ioyde with free and quiet forrests,
Vouchsafe your silent eares to playning musique,
Which to my woes giues still an early morning:
And drawes the dolor on till wery euening.
Klaius.
O Mercurie, foregoer to the euening,
O heauenlie huntresse of the sauage mountaines,
O louelie starre, entitled of the morning,
While that my voice doth fill these wofull vallies,
Vouchsafe your silent eares to plaining musique,
Which oft hath Echo tir'd in secrete forrests.
Strephon.
I that was once free-burges of the forrests,
Where shade from Sunne, and sports I sought at euening,
I that was once esteem'd for pleasant musique,
Am banisht now among the monstrous mountaines
Of huge despaire, and foule affictions vallies,
Am growne a shrich-owle to my selfe each morning.
Klaius.
I that was once delighted euery morning,
Hunting the wilde inhabiters of forrests,
I that was once the musique of these vallies,
So darkened am, that all my day is euening,
Hart-broken so, that molehilles seeme high mountaines,
And fill the vales with cries in steed of musique.
Strephon.
Long since alas, my deadly Swannish musique
Hath made it selfe a crier of the morning,
And hath with wailing stregth clim'd highest mountaines:
Long since my thoughts more desert be then forrests:
Long since I see my ioyes come to their euening,
And state throwen downe to ouer-troden vallies.
Klaius.
Long since the happie dwellers of these vallies,
Haue praide me leaue my strange exclaiming musique,
Which troubles their dayes worke, and ioyes of euening:
Long since I hate the night, more hate the morning:
Long since my thoughts chase me like beasts in forrests,
And make me wish my selfe layd vnder mountaines.
Strephon.
Me seemes I see the high and stately mountaines,
Transforme themselues to lowe deiected vallies:
Me seemes I heare in these ill-changed forrests,
The Nightingales doo learne of Owles their musique:
Me seemes I feele the comfort of the morning
Turnde to the mortall serene of an euening.
Klaius.
Me seemes I see a filthie clowdie euening,
As soon as Sunne begins to clime the mountaines:
Me seemes I feele a noysome sent, the morning
When I doo smell the flowers of these vallies:
Me seemes I heare, when I doo heare sweete musique,
The dreadfull cries of murdred men in forrests.
Strephon.
I wish to fire the trees of all these forrests;
I giue the Sunne a last farewell each euening;
I curse the fidling finders out of Musicke:
With cnuie I doo hate the loftie mountaines;
And with despite despise the humble vallies:
I doo detest night, euening, day, and morning.
Klaius.
Curse to my selfe my prayer is, the morning:
My fire is more, then can be made with forrests;
My state more base, then are the basest vallies:
I wish no euenings more to see, each euening;
Shamed I haue my selfe in sight of mountaines,
And stoppe mine eares, lest I growe mad with Musicke.
Strephon.
For she, whose parts maintainde a perfect musique,
Whose beautie shin'de more then the blushing morning,
Who much did passe in state the stately mountaines,
In straightnes past the Cedars of the forrests,
Hath cast me wretch into eternall euening,
By taking her two Sunnes from these darke vallies.
Klaius.
For she, to whom compar'd, the Alpes are vallies,
She, whose left word brings from the spheares their musique,
At whose appraoch the Sunne rose in the euening,
Who, where she went, bare in her forhead morning,
Is gone, is gone from these our spoyled forrests,
Turning to desarts our best pastur'de mountaines.
Strephon.
These mountaines witnesse shall, so shall these vallies,
Klaius.
These forrests eke, made wretched by our musique,
Our morning hymne is this, and song at euening.

Zelmane seing no body offer to fill the stage, as if her long restrained conceits had new burst out of pri­son, she thus desiring her voice should be accorded to nothing but Philocleas eares, laying fast holde on her face with her eyes, she sange these Sapphiques, spea­king as it were to her owne Hope.

IF mine eyes can speake to doo harty errande,
Or mine eyes language she doo hap to tudge of,
So that eyes message be of her receaued,
Hope we do liue yet.
But if eyes faile then, when I most doo need them,
Or if eyes language be not vnto her knowne,
So that eyes message doo returne reiected,
Hope we doo both dye.
Yet dying, and dead, doo we sing her honour;
So become our tombes monuments of her praise;
So becomes our losse the triumph of her gayne;
Hers be the glory.
If the spheares senselesse doo yet hold a musique,
If the Swannes sweet voice be not heard, but at death,
If the mute timber when it hath the life lost,
Yeldeth a lutes tune.
Are then humane mindes priuiledg'd so meanly,
As that hatefull death can abridge them of powre,
With the vowe of truth to recorde to all worldes,
That we be her spoiles?
[Page]
Thus not ending, endes the due praise of her praise;
Fleshly vaile consumes; but a soule hath his life,
Which is helde in loue, loue it is, that hath ioynde
Life to this our soule.
But if eyes can speake to doo harty errande,
Or mine eyes language she doo hap to iudge of,
So that eyes message be of her receaued,
Hope we doo liue yet.

WHat exclaiming praises Basilius gaue to Zelmanes songe, any man may ghesse, that knowes loue is better then a paire of spectacles to make euery thing seeme greater, which is seene through it: and then is it neuer tongue-tied, where fit commendation (whereof womankind is so licorous) is offered vnto it. Yea, he fel prostrate on the ground, and thanked the Gods, they had preserued his life so long, as to heare the very mu­sique they themselues vsed, in an earthly body. But the wasting of the torches serued as a watch vnto them, to make them see the time waste; and therefore the King (though vnwilling) rose from the seate, which he thought excellently setled on the one side: and consi­dering Zelmanes late hurte, perswaded her to take that farre-spent nights rest. And so of all sides they went to recommend themselues to the elder brother of death.

The end of the first Booke.

THE SECOND BOOKE OF THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.

CHAP. 1.

The loue-complaintes 1 of Gynecia, 2 Zelmane, 3 and Basilius. 4 Her, 5 and his wooing of Zelmane, and her shifting of both, 6 to bemone her selfe

In these pastorall pa­stimes a great number of dayes were sent to follow their flying pre­decessours, while the cup of poison (which was deepely tasted of this noble companie) had left no sinewe of theirs without mortal­ly searching into it; yet neuer manifesting his venomous worke, till once, that the night (parting away angerly, that she could di­still no more sleepe into the eies of louers) had no soo­ner giuen place to the breaking out of the morning light, and the Sunne bestowed his beames vpon the tops of the mountaines, but that the wofull Gynecia argument key no. 1 (to whom rest was no ease) had left her loathed lodging, and gotten her selfe into the solitary places those de­serts[Page] were full of, going vp and downe with such vn­quiet motions, as a grieued & hopeles mind is wont to bring forth. There appeered vnto the eies of her iudge­ment the euils she was like to run into, with ougly in­famie waiting vpon them: she felt the terrous of her owne conscience: she was guilty of a long exercised vertue, which made this vice the fuller of deformitie. The vttermost of the good she could aspire vnto, was a mortall wound to her vexed spirits: and lastly no small part of her euils was, that she was wife to see her euils. In so much, that hauing a great while throwne her coūtenaunce ghastly about her (as if she had called all the powers of the worlde to witnesse of her wretched estate) at length casting vp her watrie eyes to heauen, O Sunne (said she) whose vnspotted light directs the steps of mortall mankind, art thou not ashamed to im­part the clearnesse of thy presence to such a dust-cree­ping worme as I am? O you heauens (which continu­ally keepe the course allotted vnto you) can none of your influences preuaile so much vpon the miserable Gynecia, as to make her preserue a course so lōg embra­ced by her? O deserts, deserts, how fit a guest am I for you, since my hart can people you with wild rauenous beastes, which in you are wanting? O Vertue, where doost thou hide thy selfe? or what hideous thing is this which doth eclips thee? or is it true that thou weart neuer but a vaine name, and no essentiall thing, which hast thus left thy professed seruant, when she had most need of thy louely presence? O imperfect proportiō of reason, which cā too much forsee, & too little preuent. Alas, alas (said she) if there were but one hope for all my paines, or but one excuse for all my faultinesse. But[Page 99] wretch that I am, my torment is beyond all succour, & my euill deseruing doth exceed my euill fortune. For nothing els did my husband take this straunge resolu­tiō to liue so solitarily: for nothing els haue the winds deliuered this straunge guest to my country: for no­thing els haue the destinies reserued my life to this time, but that only I (most wretched I) should become a plague to my selfe, and a shame to womankind. Yet if my desire (how vniust so euer it be) might take effect, though a thousand deaths folowed it, and euery death were followed with a thousand shames; yet should not my seplcher receiue me without some contentment. But alas, though sure I am, that Zelmane is such as can answere my loue; yet as sure I am, that this disguising must needs come for some foretakē cōceipt. And then, wretched Gynecia, wherè cāst thou find any smal groūd­plot for hope to dwel vpon? No, no, it is Philoclea his hart is set vpon: it is my daughter I haue borne to sup­plant me. But if it be so, the life I haue giuen thee (vn­gratefull Philoclea) I will sooner with these handes be­reaue thee of, then my birth shall glory, she hath berea­ued me of my desires. In shame there is no cōfort, but to be beyond all bounds of shame.

Hauing spokē thus, she began to make a piteous war with hir faire haire, when she might heare (not far frō argument key no. 2 her) an extremely doleful voice, but so suppressed with a kind of whispering note, that she could not conceaue the wordes distinctly. But (as a lamentable tune is the sweetest musicke to a wofull mind) she drewe thether neere-away, in hope to find some cōpaniō of her misery. And as she passed on, she was stopped with a nūber of trees, so thickly placed together, that she was afraid she should (with rushing thorow) stop the speach of[Page] the lamentable partie, which she was so desirous to vn­derstand. And therefore setting her downe as softly as she could (for she was now in distaunce to heare) she might first perceaue a Lute excellently well played vpon, and then the same dolefull voice accompanying it with these verses.

IN vaine, mine Eyes, you labour to amende
With flowing teares your fault of hasty sight:
Since to my hart her shape you so did sende;
That her I see, though you did lose your light.
In vaine, my Hart, now you with sight are burnd,
With sighes you seeke to coole your hotte desire:
Since sighes (into mine inward fornace turnd)
For bellowes serue to kindle more the fire.
Reason, in vaine (now you haue lost my hart)
My head you seeke, as to your strongest forte :
Since there mine eyes haue played so false a parte,
That to your strength your foes haue sure resorte.
Then since in vaine I find were all my strife,
To this strange death I vainely yeeld my life.

The ending of the song serued but for a beginning of new plaints, as if the mind (oppressed with too heauy a burthē of cares) was faine to discharge it self of al sides, & as it were, paint out the hideousnes of the paine in al sortes of coulours. For the wofull person (as if the lute had euill ioined with the voice) threw it to the ground with such like words: Alas, poore Lute, how much art thou deceiu'd to think, that in my miseries thou couldst ease my woes, as in my careles times thou was wont to[Page 100] please my fancies? The time is changed, my Lute, the time is changed; and no more did my ioyfull minde then receiue euery thing to a ioyful consideration, then my carefull mind now makes ech thing tast like the bit­ter iuyce of care. The euill is inward, my Lute, the euill is inward; which all thou doost, doth serue but to make me thinke more freely off, and the more I thinke, the more cause I finde of thinking, but lesse of hoping. And alas, what is then thy harmony, but the sweete meats of sorrow? The discord of my thoughts, my Lute, doth ill agree to the concord of thy strings; therefore be not ashamed to leaue thy master, since he is not afraide to forsake himselfe.

argument key no. 4 And thus much spokē (in steed of a conclusion) was closed vp with so harty a groning, that Gynecia could not refraine to shew her selfe, thinking such griefes could serue fitly for nothing, but her owne fortune. But as she came into the little Arbour of this sorrowfull musicke, her eyes met with the eyes of Zelmane, which was the party that thus had indited her selfe of miserie: so that either of them remained confused with a sodaine asto­nishment. Zelmane fearing, least shee had heard some part of those complaints, which shee had risen vp that morning of purpose, to breath out in secret to her selfe. But Gynecia a great while stoode still, with a kind of dull amasement, looking stedfastly vpon her: at length re­turning to some vse of her selfe, shee began to aske Zel­mane, what cause carried her so early abroad? But as if the opening of her mouth to Zelmane, had opened some great flood-gate of sorrow (wherof her heart could not abide the violēt issue) she sanke to the ground, with her hands ouer her face, crying vehemently, Zelmane helpe[Page] me, O Zelmane haue pittie on me. Zelmane ranne to her, maruelling what sodaine sicknesse had thus pos­sessed her: and beginning to aske her the cause of her paine, and offring her seruice to be imployed by her: Gynecia opening her eyes wildly vpon her, pricked with the flames of loue, and the torments of her owne con­science; O Zelmane, Zelmane, (said she) doost thou of­fer me phisicke, which art my onely poyson? Or wilt thou doo me seruice, which hast alredie brought me into eternall slauerie? Zelmane then knowing well at what marke she shot, yet loth to enter into it; Most ex­cellent Ladie (said she) you were best retire your selfe into your lodging, that you the better may passe this sodaine fitte. Retire my selfe? (said Gynecia) If I had retyred my selfe into my selfe, when thou to me (vnfor­tunate guest) camest to draw me from my selfe; blessed had I beene, and no neede had I had of this counsaile. But now alas, I am forced to flie to thee for succour, whom I accuse of all my hurt; and make thee iudge of my cause, who art the onely author of my mischiefe. Zelmane the more astonished, the more she vnderstood her, Madam (said she) whereof do you accuse me, that I will not cleere my selfe? Or wherein may I steed you, that you may not command me? Alas, answered Gy­necia, what shall I say more? Take pitty of me, O Zel­mane, but not as Zelmane, and disguise not with me in words, as I know thou doost in apparell.

argument key no. 3 Zelmane was much troubled with that word, finding her selfe brought to this streight. But as shee was thin­king what to answere her; they might see olde Basilius passe harde by them, without euer seeing them: com­playning likewise of loue verie freshly; and ending his[Page 101] complaint with this song, Loue hauing renewed both his inuention, and voyce.

Let not old age disgrace my high desire,
O heauenly soule, in humaine shape conteind:
Old wood inflam'de, doth yeeld the brauest fire,
When yonger dooth in smoke his vertue spend.
Ne let white haires, which on my face doo grow,
Seeme to your eyes of a disgracefull hewe:
Since whitenesse doth present the sweetest show,
Which makes all eyes doo honour vnto you.
Old age is wise and full of constant truth;
Old age well stayed from raunging humor liues:
Old age hath knowne what euer was in youth:
Old age orecome, the greater honour giues.
And to old age since you your selfe aspire,
Let not old age disgrace my high desire.

Which being done, he looked verie curiously vpon himselfe, sometimes fetching a little skippe, as if he had said, his strength had not yet forsaken him. But Zelma­ne hauing in this time gotten leasure to thinke for an answere; looking vpon Gynecia, as if she thought she did her some wrong: Madam (said she) I am not acquain­ted with those words of disguising, neither is it the profession of an Amazon, neither are you a partie with whom it is to be vsed. If my seruice may please you, imploy it, so long as you do me no wrong in misiudge­ing of me. Alas Zelmane (said Gynecia) I perceiue you know ful little, how percing the eyes are of a true louer.[Page] There is no one beame of those thoughts you haue planted in me, but is able discerne a greater cloud then you doo goe in. Seeke not to conceale your selfe fur­ther from me, nor force not the passion of loue into violent extremities. Nowe was Zelmane brought to an exigent, when the king, turning his eyes that way thorow the trees, perceiued his wife and mistres togi­ther: so that framing the most louely countenance he could, he came straightway towards them; and at the first word (thanking his wife for hauing entertained Zelmane,) desired her she would now returne into the lodge, because hee had certaine matters of estate to impart to the Ladie Zelmane. The Queene (being nothing troubled with ielousie in that point) obeyed the kings commaundement; full of raging agonies, and determinatly bent, that as she would seeke all lo­uing meanes to winne Zelmane, so she would stirre vp terrible tragedies, rather then faile of her entent. And so went she from them to the lodge-ward, with such a battaile in her thoughts, and so deadly an ouer­throw giuen to her best resolutions, that euen her bodie (where the fielde was fought) was oppressed withall: making a languishing sicknesse waite vpon the triumph of passion; which the more it preuailed in her, the more it made her ielousie watchfull, both ouer her daughter, and Zelmane; hauing euer one of them entrusted to her owne eyes.

But as soone as Basilius was ridde of his wiues pre­sence, falling downe on his knees, O Lady (said he) which hast onely had the power to stirre vp againe those flames which had so long layn deade in me; see in me the power of your beautie; which can make[Page 102] old age come to aske counsaile of youth; and a Prince vncōquered, to become a slaue to a stranger. And whē you see that power of yours, loue that at left in me, since it is yours, although of me you see nothing to be loued. Worthy Prince (answered Zelmane, taking him vp from his kneeling) both your manner, and your speech are so straunge vnto me, as I know not how to answere it better then with silence. If silence please you (said the king) it shal neuer displease me, since my heart is wholly pledged to obey you: otherwise if you would vouchsafe mine eares such happinesse, as to heare you, they shall conuary your words to such a mind, which is with the humblest degree of reuerēce to receiue them. I disdaine not to speake to you (mightie Prince said Zelmane,) but I disdaine to speake to any matter which may bring my honor into question. And therewith, with a braue counterfeited scorne she departed from the king; leauing him not so sorie for his short answere, as proud in himself that he had broken the matter. And thus did the king (feeding his minde with those thoughts) passe great time in writing verses, & making more of himselfe, then he was wont to doo: that with a little helpe, he would haue growne into a prettie kind of dotage.argument key no. 5

argument key no. 6 But Zelmane being ridde of this louing, but little-lo­ued company, Alas (said she) poore Pyrocles, was there euer one, but I, that had receiued wrong, and could blame no body. that hauing more then I desire, am still in want of that I woulde? Truly Loue, I must needes say thus much on thy behalfe; thou hast imployed my loue there, where all loue is deserued; and for re­compence hast sent me more loue then euer I desired.[Page] But what wilt thou doo Pyrocles? which way canst thou finde to ridde thee of thy intricate troubles? To her whom I would be knowne to, I liue in darkenesse: and to her am reuealed, from whom I would be most sec­reat. What shift shall I finde against the diligent loue of Basilius? what shield against the violent passions of Gynecia? And if that be done, yet how am I the neerer to quench the fire that consumes me? Wel, well, sweete Philoclea, my whole confidence must be builded in thy diuine spirit, which cannot be ignorant of the cruell wound I hauē receiued by you.

CHAP. 2.

1 Dametas-his enstructing of Dorus. 2 Zelmanes discourse to Dorus of her difficulties; 3 & his to her of his successe in loue. 4 His loue-suits made to Mopsa, meant to Pamela: with their answeres.

Bvt as sicke folkes, when they are a­lone, thinke companie would re­lieue them, & yet hauing company do find it noysome; changing wil­lingly outward obiects, when in­deed the euill is inward: So poore Zelmane was no more weery of Ba­silius, then she was of herselfe, when Basilius was gone: and euer the more, the more she turned her eyes to be­come her owne iudges. Tyred wherewith, she longed to meete her friende Dorus; that vpon the shoulders of friendship she might lay the burthen of sorrow: and therefore went toward the other lodge: where among certaine Beeches she found Dorus, apparelled in flanen, with a goats skin cast vpon him, & a garland of Laurell[Page 103] mixt with Cypres leaues on his head, wayting on his master Dametas, argument key no. 1 who at that time was teching him how with his sheephooke to catch a wanton Lambe, & with the same to cast a litle clod at any one that strayed out of cōpanie. And while Dorus was practising, one might see Dametas hold his hand vnder his girdle behind him, nodding from the wast vpwards, & swearing he neuer knew man go more aukewardly to worke: & that they might talke of booke-learning what they would; but for his part, he neuer saw more vnseatlie fellowes, then great clearks were.

But Zelmanes comming saued Dorus from further argument key no. 2 chiding. And so she beginning to speake with him of the number of his masters sheepe, and which Prouince of Arcadia bare the finest wooll, drewe him on to fol­low her in such countrie discourses, till (being out of Dametas hearing) with such vehemencie of passion, as though her harte would clime into her mouth, to take her tongues office, she declared vnto him, vpon what briers the roses of her affections grew: how time still seemed to forget her, bestowing no one houre of com­fort vpon her; she remaining stil in one plight of ill for­tune, sauing so much worse, as continuance of euill dooth in it selfe increase euill. Alas my Dorus (said she) thou feest how long and languishingly the weekes are paste ouer vs since our laste talking. And yet am I the same, miserable I, that I was: onely stronger in lon­ging, and weaker in hoping. Then fell she to so pitifull a declaration of the insupportablenes of her desires, that Dorus eares (not able to shew what woundes that discourse gaue vnto them) procured his eyes with teares to giue testimonie, how much they suffered for[Page] her suffering: till passion (a most cumbersome guest to it selfe) made Zelmane (the sooner to shake it of) earne­stly intreate Dorus, that he also (with like freedome of discourse) would bestow a Mappe of his little worlde, vpon her; that she might see, whether it were troubled with such vnhabitable climes of colde despaires, and hotte rages, as hers was. And so walking vnder a fewe Palme trees, (which being louing in their own nature, seemed to giue their shadow the willinglier, because they held discourse of loue) Dorus thus entred to the description of his fortune.

argument key no. 3 Alas (said he) deare Cosin, that it hath pleased the high powers to throwe vs to such an estate, as the one­ly entercourse of our true friendshippe, must be a bar­tring of miseries. For my parte, I must confesse in­deede, that from a huge darkenes of sorrowes, I am crept (I cannot say to a lightsomnes, but) to a certain dawning, or rather, peeping out of some possibilitie of comfort: But woe is me, so farre from the marke of my desires, that I rather thinke it such a light, as comes through a small hole to a dungeon, that the miserable caitife may the better remember the light, of which he is depriued: or like a scholler, who is onely come to that degree of knowledge, to finde him selfe vtterly ig­norant.

But thus stands it with me: After that by your meanes I was exalted to serue in yonder blessed lodge, for a while I had, in the furnace of my agonies, this re­freshing; that (because of the seruice I had done in kil­ling of the Beare) it pleased the Princesse (in whom indeede statelines shines through courtesie) to let fall some gratious looke vpon me. Sometimes to see my[Page 104] exercises, sometimes to heare my songes. For my parte, my harre woulde not suffer me to omitte any occasion, whereby I might make the incomparable Pamela, see how much extraordinarie deuotion I bare to her seruice: and withall, straue to appeare more wo­rthy in her sight; that small desert, ioyned to so great af­fection, might preuaile something in the wisest Ladie. But too well (alas) I founde, that a shepheards seruice was but considered of as from a shepheard, and the ac­ceptation limitted to no further proportion, then of a good seruant. And when my countenance had once giuen notice, that there lay affection vnder it, I sawe straight, Maiesty (sitting in the throne of Beautie) draw foorth such a sworde of iust disdaine, that I remayned as a man thunder-striken; not daring, no not able, to beholde that power. Now, to make my estate knowen, seemed againe impossible, by reason of the suspitious­nes of Dametas, Miso, and my young Mistresse, Mop­sa. For, Dametas (according to the constitution of a dull head) thinkes no better way to shewe him selfe wife, then by suspecting euery thing in his way. Which suspition Misc (for the hoggish shrewdnesse of her braine) and Mopsa (for a very vnlikely enuie she hath stumbled vpon, against the Princesses vnspeake­able beauti) were very gladde to execute. So that I (finding my seruice by this meanes lightlie regar­ded, my affection despised, and my selfe vnknowen) remayned no fuller of desire, then voyde of comfort how to come to my desire. Which (alas) if these trees could speak, they might well witnesse. For, many times haue I stoode here, bewailing my selfe vnto them:[Page] many times haue I, leaning to yonder Palme, admired the blessednes of it, that coulde beare Loue without sence of paine. Many times, when my masters cattle came hether to chewe their cudde, in this fresh place, I might see the young Bull testifie his loue. But how with proud lookes, and ioyfulnes. O wretched man­kind (said I then to my selfe) in whom witte (which should be the gouerner of his welfare) becomes the traitor to his blessednes. These beasts, like children to nature, inherite her blessings quietly; we, like bastards, are layd abroad, euen as foundlinges to be trayned vp by griefe and sorrow. Their mindes grudge not their bodies comfort, nor their sences are letted from enioy­ing their obiects: we haue the impediments of honor, and the torments of conscience. Truely in such cogi­tatiōs haue I sometimes so long stood, that me thought my feete began to grow into the ground, with such a darkenes and heauines of minde, that I might easilie haue bene perswaded to haue resigned ouer my very essence. But Loue, (which one time layeth burthens, another time giueth wings) when I was at the lowest of my downward thoughts, pulled vp my harte to re­mēber, that nothing is atchieued before it be through­lie attempted; and that lying still doth neuer goe for­ward: and that therefore it was time, now or neuer, to sharpen my inuention, to pearce thorow the hardnes of this enterprise; neuer ceasing to assemble al my con­ceites, one after the other, how to manifest both my minde and estate. Till at last, I lighted and resolued on this way, which yet perchaunce you will think was a way rather to hide it.

argument key no. 4 I began to counterfeite the extremest loue towards[Page 105] Mopsa, that might be: and as for the loue, so liuely it was indeed within me, (although to another subiect) that litle I needed to counterfait any notable demonstrati­ons of it: and so making a contrariety the place of my memory, in her fowlnes I beheld Pamelas fayrenesse, still looking on Mopsa, but thinking on Pamela; as if I saw my Sunne shine in a puddled water: I cryed out of nothing but Mopsa: to Mopsa my attendance was directed: to Mopsa the best fruites I coulde gather were brought: to Mopsa it seemed still that mine eye conueyed my tongue. So that Mopsa was my say­ing; Mopsa was my singing; Mopsa, (that is onely suteable in laying a foule complexion vpon a filthy fa­uour, setting foorth both in sluttishnesse) she was the load-starre of my life, she the blessing of mine eyes, she the ouerthrowe of my desires, and yet the recom­pence of my ouerthrowe; she the sweetnesse of my harte, euen sweetning the death, which her sweet­nesse drew vpon me. In summe, what soeuer I thought of Pamela, that I saide of Mopsa; whereby as I gatte my maisters good-will, who before spited me, fearing left I should winne the Princesse fauour from him, so did the same make the Princesse be better content to allow me her presence: whether indeede it were, that a certaine sparke of noble indignation did rise in her, not to suffer such a baggage to winne away any thing of hers, how meanely soeuer she reputed of it; or ra­ther (as I thinke) my words being so passionate; and shooting so quite contrarie from the markes of Mop­saes worthinesse, she perceiued well enough, whither they were directed: and therefore being so masked, she was contented, as a sporte of witte to attend them.[Page] Whereupon one day determining to find some means to tel (as of a third person) the tale of mine owne loue, and estate, finding Mopsa (like a Cuckoo by a Nigh­tingale) alone with Pamela, I came in vnto them, and with a face (I am sure) full of clowdy fancies, tooke a harpe, and songe this songe.

Since so mine eyes are subiect to your sight,
That in your sight they fixed haue my braine;
Since so my harte is filled with that light,
That onely light doth all my life maintaine;
Since in sweete you all goods so richly raigne,
That where you are no wished good can want;
Since so your liuing image liues in me,
That in my selfe your selfe true loue doth plant;
How can you him vnworthy then decree,
In whose chiefe parte your worthes implanted be?

The song being ended, which I had often broken of in the middest with grieuous sighes, which ouertooke euery verse I sange, I let fall my harpe frō me; & casting my eie sometime vpon Mopsa, but setting my sight prin­cipally vpon Pamela, And is it the onely fortune most bewtiful Mopsa (said I) of wretched Dorus, that fortune should be measure of his mind? Am I onely he that be­cause I am in miserie, more miserie must be laid vpon me? must that which should be cause of compassion, become an argument of cruelty against me? Alas ex­cellent Mopsa, consider, that a vertuous Prince re­quires the life of his meanest subiect, and the heauen­ly[Page 106] Sunne disdaines not to giue light to the smallest worme. O Mopsa, Mopsa, if my hart could be as manifest to you, as it is vncomfortable to me, I doubt not the height of my thoughts should well counteruaile the lownesse of my qualitie. Who hath not heard of the greatnes of your estate? who seeth not, that your estate is much excelled with that sweet vniting of al beauties, which remaineth & dwelleth with you? who knowes not, that al these are but ornamēts of that diuine sparke within you, which being descēded from heauen could notels-where picke out so sweete a mansion.? But if you will knowe what is the bande that ought to knit all these excellencies together, it is a kinde of mercy­fulnesse to such a one, as is in his soule deuoted to those perfections. Mopsa (who already had had a cer­taine smackring towardes me) stood all this while with her hand sometimes before her face, but most cōmon­ly with a certaine speciall grace of her owne, wagging her lips, and grinning in steede of smiling: but all the wordes I could get of her, was, wringing her waste, and thrusting out her chinne, In faith you iest with me: you are a merry man indeede. But the euer-plea­sing Pamela (that well found the Comedie would be marred, if she did not helpe Mopsa to her parte) was cō ­tent to vrge a little further of me. Maister Dorus (said the faire Pamela) me thinks you blame your fortune ve­ry wrongfully, since the fault is not in Fortune, but in you that cannot frame your selfe to your fortune: and as wrongfully do require Mopsa to so great a disparage­ment as to her Fathers seruaunt; since she is not wor­thy to be loued, that hath not some feeling of her owne worthines. I staied a good while after her words,[Page] in hope she would haue continued her speech (so great a delight I receaued in hearing her) but seeing her say no further, (with a quaking all ouer my body) I thus answered her. Ladie, most worthie of all dutie, how falles it out that you in whom all vertue shines, will take the patronage of fortune, the onely rebelli­ous handmaide against vertue? Especially, since before your eyes, you haue a pittifull spectacle of her wic­kednesse, a forlorne creature, which must remaine not such as I am, but such as she makes me, since she must be the ballance of worthinesse or disparagement. Yet alas, if the condemned man (euen at his death) haue leaue to speake, let my mortall wound purchase thus much consideration; since the perfections are such in the partie I loue, as the feeling of them cannot come into any vnnoble hart; shall that harte, which doth not onely feele them, but hath all the working of his life placed in them, shall that hart I saie, lifted vp to such a height, be counted base? O let not an excellent spirit doo it selfe such wrong, as to thinke, where it is pla­ced, imbraced, and loued; there can be any vnworthi­nesse, since the weakest mist is not easilier driuen a­way by the Sunne, then that is chased away with so high thoughts. I will not denie (answered the grati­ous Pamela) but that the loue you beare to Mopsa, hath brought you to the consideration of her vertues, and that consideration may haue made you the more ver­tuous, and so the more worthie: But euen that then (you must confesse) you haue receiued of her, and so are rather gratefully to thanke her, then to presse any further, till you bring something of your owne wher­by to claime it. And truely Dorus, I must in Mopsaes [Page 107] behalfe say thus much to you, that if her beauties haue so ouertaken you, it becomes a true Loue to haue your harte more set vpon her good then your owne, and to beare a tenderer respect to her honour, then your satisfaction. Now by my hallidame, Ma­dame (said Mopsa, throwing a great number of sheeps eyes vpon me) you haue euen touched mine owne minde to the quicke, forsooth. I (finding that the pol­licie that I had vsed, had at lest wise procured thus much happinesse vnto me, as that I might euen in my Ladies presence, discouer the sore which had deepely festered within me, and that she could better con­ceaue my reasons applied to Mopsa, then she would haue vouchsafed them, whilest her selfe was a partie) thought good to pursue on my good beginning, v­sing this fit occasion of Pameleas wit, and Mopsaes igno­rance. Therfore with an humble pearcing eye, looking vpon Pamela, as if I had rather bene cōdemned by her mouth, then highly exalted by the other, turning my selfe to Mopsa, but keeping mine eye where it was, faire Mopsa (said I) well doo I finde by the wise knitting to­gether of your answere, that any disputatiō I can vse is asmuch too weake, as Ivnworthy. I find my loue shalbe proued no loue, without I leue to loue, being too vnfit a vessell in whō so high thoughts should be engraued. Yet since the Loue I beare you, hath so ioyned it self to the best part of my life, as the one cānot depart, but that th' other will follow, before I seeke to obey you in ma­king my last passage, let me know which is my vnwor­thines, either of mind, estate, or both? Mopsa was about to say, in neither; for her hart I thinke tūbled with ouer much kindnesse, when Pamela with a more fauourable[Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] countenance thē before (finding how apt I was to fall into dispaire) told me, I might therein haue answered my selfe; for besides that it was graunted me, that the inward feeling of Mopsaes perfectiōs had greatly beau­tified my minde, there was none could denie, but that my minde and bodie deserued great allowance. But Dorus (sayd she) you must be so farre maister of your loue, as to consider, that since the iudgement of the world stands vpon matter of fortune, and that the sexe of womankind of all other is most bound to haue re­gardfull eie to mens iudgements, it is not for vs to play the philosophers, in seeking out your hidden vertues: since that, which in a wise prince would be coūted wis­dome, in vs wil be taken for a light-grounded affectiō: so is not one thing, one, done by diuers persons. There is no man in a burning feuer feeles so great content­mēt in cold water greedily receiued (which assoone as the drinke ceaseth, the rage reneweth) as poore I found my soule refreshed with her sweetly pronoūced words; & newly, & more violētly againe enflamed, assoone as she had closed vp her delightfull speach, with no lesse wel graced silence. But remēbring in my self that aswell the Souldier dieth which standeth still, as he that giues the brauest onset: & seeing that to the making vp of my fortune, there wanted nothing so much as the making knowne of mine estate, with a face wel witnessing how deeply my soule was possessed, & with the most submis­siue behauior, that a thralled hart could expresse, euē as my words had bene too thicke for my mouth, at lēgth spake to this purpose. Alas, most worthy Princesse (said I) & do not then your owne sweet words sufficiētly te­stifie, that there was neuer mā could haue a iuster actiō [Page 108] against filthy fortune, thē I, since all other things being granted me, her blindnesse is my onely let? O heauēly God, I would either she had such eyes as were able to discerne my deserts, or I were blind not to see the daily cause of my misfortune. But yet (said I) most honoured Lady, if my miserable speeches haue not already cloied you, & that the verie presence of such a wretch be­come not hatefull in your eyes; let me reply thus much further against my mortall sentence, by telling you a storie, which happened in this same country long since (for woes make the shortest time seeme long) where­by you shall see that my estate is not so contemptible, but that a Prince hath bene content to take the like vp­on him, and by that onely hath aspired to enioy a mightie Princesse. Pamela gratiously harkened, and I told my tale in this sort.

CHAP. 3.

1 Dorus-his tale of his owne education, 2 trauaile, 3 enamoring, 4 metamorphosing, 5 sauing from sea, 6 and being Musidorus. 7 His octaue. 8 Pamelas and Mopsas answere to his suit. 9 His present to them; 10 and perplexitie in himselfe.

argument key no. 1 In the countrie of Thessalia, (alas why name I that accursed coun­try, which brings forth nothing, but matters for tragedies? but name it I must) in Thessalia (I say) there was (well may I say, there was) a Prince (no, no Prince, whō bondage wholly possessed; but[Page] yet accounted a Prince, and) named Musidorus. O Musi­dorus, Musidorus; but to what serue exclamations, where there are no cares to receiue the sounde? This Musi­dorus, being yet in the tendrest age, his worthy father paied to nature (with a violent death) her last dueties, leauing his childe to the faith of his friends, and the proofe of time: death gaue him not such pangs as the foresight-full care hee had of his silly successour. And yet if in his foresight he could haue seene so much, happie was that good Prince in his timely depar­ture, which barred him from the knowledge of his sonnes miseries, which his knowledge could neither haue preuented, nor relieued. The young Musidorus (being thus, as for the first pledge of the destinies good will, depriued of his principall stay) was yet for some yeares after (as if the starres would breath themselues for a greater mischiefe) lulled vp in as much good luck, as the heedfull loue of his dolefull mother, and the flo­rishing estate of his country could breed vnto him.

argument key no. 2 But when the time now came, that miserie seemed to be ripe for him, because he had age to know misery, I thinke there was a conspiracy in all heauenly & earth­ly things, to frame fit occasion to leade him vnto it. His people (to whom all forraine matters in foretime were odious) beganne to wish in their beloued Prince, ex­perience by trauaile: his deare mother (whose eyes were held open, onely with the ioy of looking vpon him) did now dispense with the comfort of her wi­dowhead life, desiring the same her subiectes did, for the increase of her sonnes worthinesse. And here to did Musidorus owne vertue (see how vertue can be a minister to mischiefe) sufficiently prouoke him: for[Page 109] indeed thus much I must say for him, although the like­nesse of our mishaps makes me presume to patterne my selfe vnto him) that well-doing was at that time his scope, from which no faint pleasure could with-hold him. But the present occasion which did knit all this togither, was his vncle the king of Macedon; who ha­uing lately before gottē such victories, as were beyond expectation, did at this time send both for the Prince his sonne (brought vp togither, to auoid the warres, with Musidorus) and for Musidorus himselfe, that his ioy might be the more full, hauing such partakers of it. But alas, to what a sea of miseries my plaintfull toong doth lead me; and thus out of breath, rather with that I thought, then that I said, I stayed my speech, till Pa­mela shewing by countenance that such was her plea­sure, I thus continued it. These two young Princes to satisfie the king, tooke their way by sea, towards Thrace, whether they would needs go with a Nauie to succour him: he being at that time before Bizantium with a mighty Army beseeging it; where at that time his court was. But when the conspired heauens had gotten this Subiect of their wrath vpon so fit a place as the sea was, they streight began to breath out in boystrous windes some part of their malice against him; so that with the losse of all his Nauie, he onely with the Prince his co­sin, were cast a land, farre off from the place whether their desires would haue guided them. O cruell winds in your vnconsiderte rages, why either beganne you this furie, or why did you not end it in his end? But your cruelty was such, as you would spare his life for many deathfull torments. To tel you what pittiful mis­haps fell to the young Prince of Macedon his cosen, I[Page] should too much fill your eares with strange horrors; neither will I stay vpon those laborsome aduētures, nor loathsome misaduentures, to which, & through which his fortune and courage conducted him; My speach hastneth it self to come to the ful-point of Musidorus his infortunes. For as we finde the most pestilēt diseases do gather into themselues al the infirmitie, with which the body before was annoyed; so did his last misery em­bracein the extremitie of itself all his former mischiefes.

argument key no. 3 Arcadia, Arcadia was the place prepared to be the stage of his endlesse ouerthrow. Arcadia was, (alas well might I say it is) the charmed circle, where all his spirits for euer should be enchaunted. For here (and no where els) did his infected eyes make his minde know, what power heauenly beauty hath to throw it downe to hel­lish agonies. Here, here did he see the Arcadian Kings eldest daughter, in whom he forthwith placed so all his hopes of ioy, and ioyfull parts of his heart, that he left in himselfe nothing, but a maze of longing, and a dun­geon of sorrow. But alas what can saying make them beleeue, whom seeing cannot perswade? Those paines must be felt before they cā be vnderstood; no outward vtterance can command a conceipt. Such was as then the state of the King, as it was no time by direct meanes to seeke her. And such was the state of his captiued wil, as he could delay no time of seeking her.

argument key no. 4 In this intangled case, he cloathed himselfe in a shep­heards weede, that vnder the basenesse of that forme, he might at lest haue free accesse to feed his eyes with that, which should at length eate vp his hart. In which doing, thus much without doubt he hath manifested, that this estate is not alwayes to be reiected, since vn­der[Page 110] that vaile there may be hidden things to be estee­med. And if he might with taking on a shepherds look cast vp his eyes to the fairest Princesse Nature in that time created; the like, nay the same desire of mine need no more to be disdained, or held for disgracefull. But now alas mine eyes waxe dimme, my toong beginnes to falter, and my hart to want force to help, either with the feeling remembrance I haue, in what heape of mi­series the caitise Prince lay at this time buried. Pardon therfore, most excellent Princesse, if I cut off the course of my dolorous tale, since if I be vnderstood, I haue said enough, for the defence of my basenesse; and for that which after might befall to that patterne of ill for­tune, (the matters are monstrous for my capacitie) his hatefull destinies must best declare their owne worke­manship.

argument key no. 5 Thus hauing deliuered my tale in this perplexed manner, to the end the Princesse might iudge that he ment himselfe, who spake so feelingly; her aunswere was both strange, and in some respect comfortable. For would you thinke it? she hath heard heretofore of vs both, by meanes of the valiant prince Plangus, and par­ticularly of our casting away: which she (following my owne stile) thus delicately brought foorth. You haue told (said she) Dorus, a prettie tale; but you are much de­ceiued in the latter end of it. For the prince Musidorus with his cosen Pyrocles did both perish vpon the coast of Laconia; as a noble gentleman, called Plangus (who was well acquainted with the historie) did assure my father. O how that speach of hers did poure ioyes in my hart? ô blessed name (thought I) of mine, since thou hast bene in that toong, and passed through those lips,[Page] though I can neuer hope to approach them. As for Py­rocles (said I) I will not denie it, but that he is perished: (which I said, least sooner suspition might arise of your being, then your selfe would haue it) and yet affirmed no lye vnto her, since I onely said, I would not deny it. But for Musidorus (said I) I perceiue indeed you haue neither heard or read the story of that vnhappy Prince; for this was the verie obiection, which that peerelesse Princesse did make vnto him, whē he fought to appeare such as he was before her wisdome: and thus as I haue read it faire written in the certaintie of my knowledge he might answere her, that indeed the ship wherein he came, by a treason was perished, and therefore that Plan­gus might easily be deceaued: but that he himselfe was cast vpon the coast of Laconia, where he was taken vp by a couple of shepheards, who liued in those dayes famous; for that both louing one faire maide, they yet remained constant friends; one of whose songs not long since was song before you by the shepheard La­mon, and brought by them to a noble-mans house, neere Mantinea, whose sonne had a little before his ma­riage, bene taken prisoner, and by the helpe of this Prince, Musidorus (though naming himselfe by another name) was deliuered. Now these circumlocutions I did vse, because of the one side I knewe the Princesse would knowe well the parties I ment; and of the other, if I should haue named Strephon, Claius, Ka­lander, and Clitophon, perhappes it would haue rubd some coniecture into the heauie heade of Mistresse Mopsa.

argument key no. 6 And therfore (said I) most diuine Lady, he iustly was to argue against such suspitions; that the Prince might[Page 111] easily by those parties be satisfied, that vpon that wrack such a one was taken vp: and therefore that Plangus might well erre, who knew not of anies taking vp a­gaine: that he that was so preserued, brought good to­kens to be one of the two, chiefe of that wracked com­panie: which two since Plangus knew to be Musidorus and Pyrocles, he must needes be one of them, although (as I said) vpon a foretaken vowe, he was otherwise at that time called. Besides, the Princesse must needes iudge, that no lesse then a Prince durst vndertake such an enterprise, which (though he might gette the fauour of the Princesse) he could neuer defend with lesse thē a Princes power, against the force of Arcadia. Lastly, (said he) for a certaine demonstration, he presumed to shew vnto the Princesse a marke he had on his face, as I might (said I) shew this of my neck to the rare Mopsa: and withall, shewed my necke to them both, where (as you know) there is a redde spotte, bearing figure (as they tell me) of a Lyons pawe, that she may ascertaine her selfe, that I am Menalcas brother. And so did he, be­seeching her to send some one she might trust, into Thessalia, secretely to be aduertised, whether the age, the complexion, and particularly that notable signe, did not fully agree with this Prince Musidorus. Doo you not know further (saide she, with a setled counte­nance, not accusing any kind of inwarde motion) of that storie. Alas no, (said I) for euen here the Historio­grapher stopped, saying, The rest belonged to Astrolo­gie. And therewith, thinking her silent imaginations began to worke vpon somewhat, to mollifie them (as the nature of Musick is to do) and withal, to shew what[Page] kind of shepheard I was, I took vp my Harpe, and sang these few verses.

argument key no. 7 My sheepe are thoughts, which I both guide and serue:
Their pasture is faire hilles of fruitlesse Loue:
On barren sweetes they feede, and feeding sterue:
I waile their lotte, but will not other proue.
My sheepehooke is wanne hope, which all vpholdes:
My weedes, Desire, cut out in endlesse foldes.
What wooll my sheepe shall beare, whiles thus they liue,
In you it is, you must the iudgement giue.

And then, partly to bring Mopsa againe to the mat­ter (lest she should too much take heed to our discour­ses) but principally, if it were possible, to gather some comfort out of her answeares, I kneeled downe to the Princesse, and humblie besought her to moue Mopsa in my behalfe, that she would vnarme her hart of that stee­ly resistāce against the sweet blowes of Loue: that since all her parts were decked with some particular orna­mēt; her face with beautie, her head with wisdome, her eyes with maiestic, her countenance with gracefulnes, her lippes with louelines, her tongue with victorie; that she woulde make her hart the throne of pitie, be­ing the most excellent rayment of the most excellent part.

argument key no. 8 Pamela, without shew either of fauour or disdaine, either of heeding or neglecting what I had said, turned her speech to Mopsa, and with such a voice and action,[Page 112] as might shewe she spake of a matter which little did concerne her, Take heede to your selfe (saide she) Mopsa, for your shepheard can speake well: but truely, if he doo fully prooue himselfe such as he faith, I mean, the honest shepheard Menalchas his brother, and heire, I know no reason why you shoulde thinke scorne of him. Mopsa though (in my conscience) she were e­uen then farre spent towards me, yet she answered her, that for all my queint speeches, she would keepe her honestie close inough: And that as for the highe way of matrimony, she would steppe neuer a foote fur­ther, till my maister her father had spoken the whole word him selfe, no she would not. But euer and anon turning her muzzell toward me, she threwe such a pro­spect vpon me, as might well haue giuen a surset to any weake louers stomacke. But Lord what a foole am I, to mingle that driuels speeches among my noble thoughts? but because she was an Actor in this Trage­die, to geue you a ful knowlede, and to leaue nothing (that I can remember) vnrepeated.

argument key no. 9 Now the Princesse being about to withdrawe her selfe from vs, I tooke a Iewell, made in the figure of a Crab-fish, which, because it lookes one way and goes another, I thought it did fitly patterne out my looking to Mopsa, but bending to Pamela: The word about it was, By force, not choice; and still kneeling, besought the Princesse that she would vouchsafe to giue it Mopsa, and with the blessednes of her hande to make accep­table vnto her that toye which I had founde, fol­lowinge of late an acquaintaunce of mine at the plowe. For (sayd I) as the earth was turned vp, the plow-share lighted vpon a great stone: we puld that[Page] vp, & so found both that, and some other prety thinges which we had deuided betwixt vs.

argument key no. 10 Mopsa was benummed with ioy when the Princesse gaue it her: but in the Princesse I could finde no appre­hension of what I either said or did, but with a calme carelesnesse letting each thing slide, iustly as we doo by their speeches, who neither in matter nor person doo any way belong vnto vs: which kind of colde temper, mixt with that lightning of her naturall maiestie, is of all others most terrible vnto me: for yet if I found she contemned me, I would desperatly labour both in for­tune and vertue to ouercome it; if she onely misdoub­ted me, I were in heauen; for quickly I woulde bring sufficient assurance: lastly, if she hated me, yet I should know what passion to deale with; and either with infi­nitenes of desert I would take away the fewell from that fire; or if nothing would serue, then I would giue her my hart-bloud to quench it. But this cruell quiet­nes, neither retiring to mislike, nor proceeding to fa­uour; gratious, but gratious still after one maner; all her courtesies hauing this engrauen in them, that what is done, is for vertues sake, not for the parties; euer kee­ping her course like the Sun, who neither for our pray­ses, nor curses, will spare or stoppe his horses. This (I say) heauenlines of hers, (for how so euer my miserie is I cannot but so entitle it) is so impossible to reach vnto, that I almost begin to submitte my selfe to the tyrannie of despaire, not knowing any way of perswasiō, where wisdome seemes to be vnsensible. I haue appeared to her eyes, like my selfe, by a deuice I vsed with my ma­ster, perswading him, that we two might put on a cer­taine rich apparrel I had prouided, and so practise something[Page 113] thing on horsback before Pamela, telling him, it was ap­parell I had gotten for playing well the part of a King in a Tragedie at Athens: my horse indeed was it I had left at Menalcas house, and Dametas got one by friend­ship out of the Princes stable. But how soeuer I show, I am no base bodie, all I doo is but to beate a rocke and get some.

CHAP. 4.

1 Basilius his hauking. 2 Gynecias hurte by Dametas ouerturning her coache. 3 Her ielousie ouer Zelmane. Philocleas 4 louepassions, 5 vowe of chastitie, 6 reuocation, 7 lamentation.

argument key no. 1 BVt as Dorus was about to tell fur­ther, Dametas (who came whist­ling, & counting vpon his fingers, how many loade of hay his seuen­teen fat oxen eat vp in a yeare) de­sired Zelmane from the King that she would come into the lodge, where they stayed for her. Alas (said Dorus, taking his leaue) the sum is this, that you may wel find you haue beatē your sorrow against such a wall, which with the force of rebound may wel make your sorrow strōger. But Zelmane turning her speach to Dametas, I shall grow (said she) skilfull in country mat­ters, if I haue often conference with your seruaunt. In footh (answered Dametas with a gracelesse skorne) the Lad may proue wel enough, if he ouersoon thinke not too well of himselfe, and will beare away that he hea­reth[Page] of his elders. And therewith as they walked to the other lodge, to make Zelmane find she might haue spēt her time better with him, he began with a wilde Me­thode to runne ouer all the art of husbandrie: especi­ally imploying his tongue about well dunging of a fielde: while poore Zelmane yeelded her eares to those tedious strokes, not warding them so much as with a­ny one answere, till they came to Basilius, and Gyne­cia, who attēded for her in a coach to carrie her abroad to see some sportes prepared for her. Basilius and Gyne­cia sitting in the one ende, placed her at the other, with her left side to Philoclea. Zelmane was moued in her minde, to haue kissed their feete for the fauour of so blessed a seate: for the narrownesse of the coach made them ioine from the foote to the shoulders very close together; the truer touch wherof though it were bar­red by their enuious apparell, yet as a perfect Magnes, though put in an iuorie boxe, will thorow the boxe send forth his imbraced vertue to a beloued needle; so this imparadised neighbourhood made Zelmanes soule cleaue vnto her, both thorow the iuory case of her bo­dy, and the apparell which did ouer-clowd it. All the bloud of Zelmanes body stirring in her, as wine will do when suger is hastely put into it, seeking to sucke the sweetnes of the beloued guest; her hart, like a lion new imprisoned, seeing him that restraines his libertie, be­fore the grate; not panting, but striuing violently (if it had bene possible) to haue leapt into the lappe of Phi­loclea. But Dametas, euen then proceeding from be­ing maister of a carte, to be doctor of a coach, not a lit­tle prowd in himselfe, that his whippe at that time gui­ded the rule of Arcadia, drauc the coach (the couer[Page 114] whereof was made with such ioints, that as they might (to auoid the weather) pull it vp close when they li­sted, so when they would they might put each ende downe, and remaine as discouered & open sighted as on horsebacke) till vpon the side of the forrest they had both greyhounds, spaniels, and hounds: whereof the first might seeme the Lords, the second the Gen­tlemen, and the last the Yeomen of dogges; a cast of Merlins there was besides, which flying of a gallant height ouer certaine bushes, would beate the birds (that rose) downe vnto the bushes, as Faul­cons will doo wilde-foule ouer a riuer. But the sporte which for that daie Basilius would principallie shewe to Zelmane, was the mountie at a Hearne, which get­ting vp on his wagling winges with paine, till he was come to some height, (as though the aire next to the earth were not fit for his great bodie to flie thorow) was now growen to diminish the fight of himself, & to giue example to great persons, that the higher they be, the lesse they should show: whē a Ierfaulcon was cast of after her, who streight spying where the pray was, fix­ing her eie with desire, & guiding her wing by her eie, vsed no more strēgth then industry. For as a good buil­der to a hie tower will not make his stayre vpright, but winding almost the ful cōpasse about, that the steepnes be the more vnsensible: so she, seing the towring of her pursued chase, went circkling, & cōpassing about, rising so with the lesse sence of rising; & yet finding that way scantly serue the greedines of her hast, as an ambitious body wil go far out of the direct way, to win to a point of height which he desires; so would she (as it were) turne taile to the Heron, & flie quite out another way,[Page] but all was to returne in a higher pitche; which once gotten, she would either beate with cruell assaults the Heron, who now was driuen to the best defence of force, since flight would not serue; or els clasping with him, come downe together, to be parted by the ouer­partiall beholders.

argument key no. 2 Diuers of which flights Basilius shewing to Zelmane, thus was the richesse of the time spent, and the day deceassed before it was thought of, till night like a de­generating successour made his departure the better remembred. And therefore (so constrained) they wil­led Dametas to driue homeward, who (halfe sleeping, halfe musing about the mending of a vine-presse) gui­ded the horses so ill, that the wheele comming ouer a great stub of a tree, it ouerturned the coach. Which though it fell violently vpon the side where Zelmane & Gynecia sat, yet for Zelmanes part, she would haue bene glad of the fall, which made her beare the sweete bur­then of Philoclea, but that she feared she might re­ceaue some hurt. But indeede neither she did, nor any of the rest, by reason they kept their armes and legs within the coach, sauing Gynecia, who with the onely bruze of the fall had her shoulder put out of ioinet; which though by one of the Faulkeners cunning, it was set well againe, yet with much paine was she brought to the lodge; and paine (fetching his ordinary companion, a seuer with him) draue her to entertaine them both in her bedde.

argument key no. 3 But neither was the seuer of such impatient heate, as the inwarde plague-sore of her affection, nor the paine halfe so noysome, as the iealousie she conceaued of her daughter Philoclea, left this time of her sicknesse[Page 115] might giue apt occasion to Zelmane, whom she mis­doubted. Therefore she called Philoclea to her, and though it were late in the night, commaunded her in her eare to go to the other lodge, and send Miso to her, with whom she would speake, and she lie with her si­ster Pamela. The meane while Gynecia kepte Zelmane with her, because she would be sure, she should be out of the lodge, before she licenced Zelmane. Philoclea not skild in any thing better then obedience, went quietly downe; and the Moone then full (not thin­king skorne to be a torche-bearer to such beautie) gui­ded her steppes, whose motions bare a minde, which bare in it selfe farre more stirring motions. And alas (sweete Philoclea) how hath my penne till now forgot thy passions, since to thy memorie principally all this long matter is intended? pardon the flacknes to come to those woes, which hauing caused in others, thou didst feele in thy selfe.

argument key no. 4 The sweete minded Philoclea was in their degree of well doing, to whom the not knowing of euill serueth for a ground of vertue, and hold their inward powers in better forme with an vnspotted simplicitie, then ma­ny, who rather cūningly seeke to know what goodnes is, then willingly take into themselues the following of it. But as that sweet & simple breath of heauenly good­nesse, is the easier to be altered, because it hath not pas­sed through the worldlie wickednesse, nor feelingly found the euill, that euill caries with it; so now the La­die Philoclea (whose eyes and senses had receaued no­thing, but according as the naturall course of each thing required; which frō the tender youth had obedi­ently liued vnder her parents behests, without framing[Page] out of her own wil the fore-chosing of any thing) whē now she came to appoint, wherein her iudgemēt was to be practized, in knowing faultines by his first tokēs, she was like a young faune, who cōming in the wind of the hunters, doth not know whether it be a thing or no to be eschewed; whereof at this time she began to get a costly experience. For after that Zelmane had a while li­ued in the lodge with her, and that her onely being a noble straunger had bred a kind of heedfull attention; her cōming to that lonely place (where she had no bo­dy but her parents) a willingnes of conuersatiō; her wit & behauiour, a liking & silent admiration; at length the excellency of her natural gifts, ioined with the extreme shewes she made of most deuout honouring Philoclea, (carying thus in one person the only two bāds of good will, louelines & louingnes) brought forth in her hart a yeelding to a most friēdly affectiō; which when it had gotten so ful possession of the keies of her mind, that it would receaue no message frō her senses, without that affection were the interpreter; thē streight grew an ex­ceeding delight stil to be with her, with an vnmeasura­ble liking of al that Zelmane did: maters being so turned in her, that where at first, liking her manners did breed good-wil, now good-wil became the chiefe cause of li­king her manners: so that within a while Zelmane was not prized for her demeanure, but the demeanure was prized because it was Zelmanes. Thē followed that most natural effect of cōforming ones self to that, which she did like, and not onely wishing to be herselfe such an other in all thinges, but to ground an imitation vp­on so much an esteemed authoritie: so that the next degree was to marke all Zelmanes dooings, speeches,[Page 116] and fashions, and to take them into herselfe, as a pat­terne of worthy proceeding. Which when once it was enacted, not onely by the comminaltie of Passions, but agreed vnto by her most noble Thoughts, and that by Reason it self (not yet experienced in the issues of such matters) had granted his royall assent; then Friendship (a diligent officer) tooke care to see the statute tho­rowly obserued. Then grew on that not onely she did imitate the sobernes of her countenance, the graceful­nesse of her speech, but euen their particular gestures: so that as Zelmane did often eye her, she would often eye Zelmane; & as Zelmanes eyes would deliuer a submissiue, but vehement desire in their looke, she, though as yet she had not the desire in her, yet should her eyes an­swere in like pearcing kindnesse of a looke. Zelmane as much as Gynecias iealousie would suffer, desired to be neere Philoclea; Philoclea, as much as Gynecias iealousie would suffer, desired to be neere Zelmane. If Zelmane tooke her hand, and softly strained it, she also (thinking the knots of friendship ought to bee mutuall) would (with a sweete fastnes) shew she was loth to part from it. And if Zelmane sighed, she would sigh also; whē Zel­mane was sad, she deemed it wisdome, and therefore she would be sad too. Zelmanes lāguishing coūtenāce with croft armes, and sometimes cast-vp eyes, she thought to haue an excellent grace: and therefore she also wil­lingly put on the same countenāce: til at the last (poore soule, ere she were aware) she accepted not onely the band, but the seruice; not only the signe, but the passion signified. For whether it were, that her wit in cōtinuāce did finde, that Zelmanes friendship was full of impati­ent desire, hauing more thē ordinarie limits, & therefore[Page] shee was content to second Zelmane, though herselfe knew not the limits; or that in truth, true-loue (well considered) haue an infectiue power. At last she fell in acquaintance with loues harbinger, wishing. First she would wish, that they two might liue all their liues to­gither, like two of Dianas Nimphes. But that wish, she thought not sufficient, because she knew, there would be more Nimphes besides them, who also would haue their part in Zelmane. Thē would she wish, that she were her sister, that such a natural band might make her more speciall to her. But against that, she considered, that though being her sister, if she happened to be mar­ried, she should be robbed of her. Then growne bol­der, she would wish either her selfe, or Zelmane a man, that there might succeed a blessed marriage betwixt them. But when that wish had once displaied his en­signe in her minde, then followed whole squadrons of longings, that so it might be, with a maine battaile of mislikings, and repynings against their creation, that so it was not. Then dreames by night beganne to bring more vnto her, then she durst wish by day, where­out making did make her know herselfe the better by the image of those fancies. But as some diseases when they are easie to be cured, they are hard to be knowne, but when they grow easie to be knowne, they are al­most impossible to be cured: so the sweete Philoclea, while she might preuent it, she did not feele it, now she felt it, when it was past preuenting; like a riuer, no ram­piers being built against it, till alreadie it haue ouer­flowed. For now indeed, Loue puld of his maske, and shewed his face vnto her, and told her plainly, that shee was his prisoner. Then needed she no more paint[Page 117] her face with passions; for passions shone thorow her face; Then her rosie coulor was often encreased with extraordinarie blushing: and so another time, perfect whitenesse ascended to a degree of palenesse; now hot, then cold, desiring she knew not what, nor how, if she knew what. Then her minde (though too late) by the smart was brought to thinke of the disease, and her owne proofe taught her to know her mothers minde; which (as no error giues so strong assault, as that which comes armed in the authoritie of a parent, so) greatly fortified her desires, to see, that her mother had the like desires. And the more iealous her mother was, the more she thought the Iewell precious, which was with so many lookes garded. But that preuailing so far, as to keepe the two louers from priuate conference, then began she to feele the sweetnesse of a louers soli­tarinesse, when freely with words and gestures, as if Zelmane were present, shee might giue passage to her thoughts, and so as it were vtter out some smoke of those flames, wherewith else she was not only burned, but smothered. As this night, that going from the one lodge to the other by her mothers commandement, with dolefull gestures and vncertaine paces, shee did willingly accept the times offer, to be a while alone: so that going a little aside into the wood; where manie times before she had delighted to walke, her eyes were saluted with a tuft of trees, so close set togither, as with the shade the moone gaue thorow it, it might breede a fearefull kinde of deuotion to looke vpon it. But true thoughts of loue banish all vaine fancie of superstiti­on. Full well she did both remember and like the place; for there had she often with their shade begui­led[Page] Phoebus of looking vpon her: There had she enioyed her selfe often, while she was mistresse of her selfe, and had no other thoughts, but such as might arise out of quiet senses.

argument key no. 5 But the principall cause that inuited her remem­brance, was a goodly white marble stone, that should seeme had bene dedicated in ancient time to the Siluan gods: which she finding there a fewe dayes before Zel­manes comming, had written these words vpon it, as a testimonie of her mind, against the suspition her cap­tiuitie made her thinke she liued in. The writing was this.

YOu liuing powres enclosed in stately shrine
Of growing trees; you rurall Gods that wield
Your scepters here, if to your eares diuine
A voice may come, which troubled soule doth yeld:
This vowe receaue, this vowe ô Gods maintaine;
My virgin life no spotted thought shall staine.
Thou purest stone, whose purenesse doth present
My purest minde; whose temper hard doth showe
My tempreed hart; by thee my promise sent
Vnto my selfe let after-liuers know.
No fancy mine, nor others wronge suspect
Make me, ô vertuous Shame, thy lawes neglect.
O Chastitie, the chiefe of heauenly lightes,
Which makst vs most immortall shape to weare,
Holde thou my hart, establish thou my sprights:
To onely thee my constant course I beare.
Till spotlesse soule vnto thy bosome flye,
Such life to leade, such death I vow to dye.

But now that her memorie serued as an accuser of argument key no. 6 her change, and that her own hand-writing was there, to beare testimony against her fall; she went in among those few trees, so closed in the toppes togither, as they might seeme a little chappell: and there might she by the help of the moone-light perceiue the goodly stone, which serued as an altar in that wooddie deuotion. But neither the light was enough to reade the words, and the inke was alreadie foreworne, and in many places blotted: which as she perceaued, Alas (said she) faire Marble, which neuer receiuedst spot but by my wri­ting, well do these blots become a blotted writer. But pardon her which did not dissemble then, although she haue chaunged since. Enioy, enioy the glorie of thy nature, which can so constantly beare the markes of my inconstancie. And herewith hiding her eyes with her soft hand, there came into her head certaine verses, which if she had had persent commoditie, she would haue adioyned as a retractation to the other. They were to this effect.

MY words, in hope to blaze my stedfast minde,
This marble chose, as of like temper knowne:
But loe, my words defaste, my fancies blinde,
Blots to the stone, shame to my selfe I finde:
And witnesse am, how ill agree in one,
A womans hand with constant marble stone.
My words full weake, the marble full of might;
My words in store, the marble all alone;
My words blacke inke, the marble kindly white;
My words vnseene, the marble still in sight,
May witnesse beare, how ill agree in one,
A womans hand,with constant marble stone.

argument key no. 7 But seeing she could not see meanes to ioyne as thē this recantation to the former vow, (laying all her faire length vnder one of the trees) for a while she did no­thing but turne vp and downe, as if she had hoped to turne away the fancie that mastred her, and hid her face, as if she could haue hidden her selfe from her owne fancies. At length with a whispring note to her selfe; O me vnfortunate wretch (said she) what poyso­nous heates be these, which thus torment me? How hath the sight of this strange guest inuaded my soule? Alas, what entrance found this desire, or what strength had it thus to conquer me? Then, a cloud passing be­tweene her sight and the moone, O Diana (said she) I would either the cloud that now hides the light of my vertue would as easily passe away, as you will quickly ouercome this let; or els that you were for euer thus darkned, to serue for an excuse of my outragious folly. Then looking to the starres, which had perfitly as then beautified the cleere skie: My parēts (said she) haue told me, that in these faire heauenly bodies, there are great hiddē deities, which haue their working in the ebbing & flowing of our estates. If it be so, then (O you Stars) iudge rightly of me, & if I haue with wicked intēt made my selfe a pray to fancie, or if by any idle lustes I fra­med my harte fit for such an impression, then let this plague dayly encrease in me, till my name bee made[Page 119] odious to womankind. But if extreame and vnresista­ble violence haue oppressed me, who will euer do any of you sacrifice (ô you Starres) if you do not succour me. No, no, you will not help me. No, no, you cannot helpe me: Sinne must be the mother, and shame the daughter of my affection. And yet are these but chil­dish obiections (simple Philoclea) it is the impossibilitie that dooth torment me: for, vnlawfull desires are pu­nished after the effect of enioying; but vnpossible de­sires are punished in the desire it selfe. O then, ô tenne times vnhappie that I am, since where in all other hope kindleth loue; in me despaire should be the bellowes of my affection: and of all despaires the most miserable, which is drawen from impossibilitie. The most coue­tous man longs not to get riches out of a groūd which neuer can beare any thing; Why? because it is impos­sible. The most ambitious wight vexeth not his wittes to clime into heauen; Why? because it is impossible. Alas then, ô Loue, why doost thou in thy beautifull sampler sette such a worke for my Desire to take out, which is as much impossible? And yet alas, why doo I thus condemne my Fortune, before I heare what she can say for her selfe? What doo I, sillie wench, knowe what Loue hath prepared for me? Doo I not see my mother, as well, at left as furiouslie as my selfe, loue Zel­mane? And should I be wiser then my mother? Either she sees a possibilitie in that which I think impossible, or els impossible loues neede not misbecome me. And doo I not see Zelmane (who doth not thinke a thought which is not first wayed by wisdome and vertue) doth not she vouchsafe to loue me with like ardour? I see it, her eyes dep ose it to be true; what then? and if she can[Page] loue poore me, shall I thinke scorne to loue such a wo­man as Zelmane? Away then all vaine examinations of why and how. Thou louest me, excellent Zelmane, and I loue thee: and with that, embrasing the very grounde whereon she lay, she said to her selfe (for euen to her selfe she was ashamed to speake it out in words) O my Zelmane, gouerne and direct me: for I am wholy giuen ouer vnto thee.

CHAP. 5.

1 The bedfellow communication of Philoclea and Pamela. 2 Pamelas narration of her shepheardes making loue, 3 of Dorus and Dametas horsemanshippe, 4 of his hote pur­suite, and her colde acceptance. 5 His letter. 6 Her relenting, 7 and Philocleas sole complaint.

argument key no. 1 IN this depth of muzes, and diuers sorts of discourses, would she haue rauingly remained, but that Dame­tas and Miso (who were rounde a­bout to seeke her, vnderstanding she was to come to their lodge that night) came hard by her; Dametas saying, That he would not deale in other bodies matters; but for his parte, he did not like that maides should once stirre out of their fathers hou­ses, but if it were to milke a cow, or saue a chicken from a kites foote, or some such other matter of importance. And Miso swearing that if it were her daughter Mopsa, she woulde giue her a lesson for walking so late, that should make her keepe within dores for one fortnight.[Page 120] But their iangling made Philoclea rise, and pretending as though she had done it but to sport with them, went with them (after she had willed Miso to waite vpon her mother) to the lodge; where (being now accustomed by her parents discipline, as well as her sister, to serue her selfe) she went alone vp to Pamelas chamber: where meaning to delight her eies, and ioy her thoughts with the sweet conuersation of her beloued sister, she found her (though it were in the time that the wings of night doth blow sleep most willingly into mortall creatures) sitting in a chaire, lying backward, with her head almost ouer the back of it, & looking vpon a wax-cādle which burnt before her; in one hand holding a letter, in the o­ther her hand-kerchiefe, which had lately dronk vp the teares of her eyes, leauing in steed of them, crimsen cir­cles, like redde flakes in the element, when the weather is hottest. Which Philoclea finding (for her eyes had learned to know the badges of sorowes) she earnestlie intreated to knowe the cause thereof, that either she might comforte, or accompanie her dolefull humor. But Pamela, rather seeming sorie that she had percei­ued so much, then willing to open any further, O my Pamela (said Philoclea) who are to me a sister in nature, a mother in counsell, a Princesse by the law of our coū ­trey, and which name (me thinke) of all other is the dearest, a friend by my choice and your fauour, what meanes this banishing me from your counsels? Do you loue your sorrowe so well, as to grudge me part of it? Or doo you thinke I shall not loue a sadde Pamela, so well as a ioyfull? Or be my eares vnwoorthie, or my tongue suspected? What is it (my sister) that you should conceale from your sister, yea and seruant Philoclea? [Page] These wordes wanne no further of Pamela, but that tel­ling her they might talke better as they lay together, they impouerished their cloathes to inriche their bed, which for that night might well scorne the shrine of Venus: and there cherishing one another with deare, though chaste embracements; with sweet, though cold kisses; it might seeme that Loue was come to play him there without darte; or that weerie of his owne fires, he was there to refreshe himselfe betweene their sweete­breathing lippes. But Philoclea earnestly againe intreated Pamela to open her griefe; who (drawing the curtain, that the candle might not complaine of her blushing) was ready to speake: but the breath almost formed into words, was againe stopt by her, and turned into sighes. But at last, I pray you (said she) sweete Philoclea, let vs talke of some other thing: & tell me whether you did euer see any thing so amēded as our Pastoral sports be, since that Dorus came hether? O Loue, how farre thou feest with blind eyes? Philoclea had straight found her, and therefore to draw out more, In deed (said she) I haue often wondred to my selfe how such excellēcies could be in so meane a person; but belike Fortune was afraide to lay her treasures, where they should be stained with so many perfections: onely I maruaile how he can frame himselfe to hide so rare giftes vnder such a block as Dametas. Ah (said Pamela) if you knew the cause: but no more doo I neither; and to say the trueth: but Lord, how are we falne to talke of this fellow? and yet indeed if you were sometimes with me to marke him, while Dametas reades his rusticke lecture vnto him (how to feede his beastes before noone, where to shade them in the extreame heate, how to make the manger hansome[Page 121] for his oxen, when to vse the goade, & when the voice: giuing him rules of a heardmā, though he pretēded to make him a shepheard) to see all the while with what a grace (which seemes to set a crowne vpon his base e­state) he can descend to those poore matters, certainly you would: but to what serues this? no doubt we were better sleepe then talke of these idle matters. Ah my Pamela (said Philoclea) I haue caught you, the constant­nes of your wit was not wont to bring forth such dis­iointed speeches: you loue, dissemble no further. It is true (said Pamela) now you haue it; and with lesse adoo should, if my hart could haue thoght those words sute­able for my mouth. But indeed (my Philoclea) take heed: for I thinke Vertue it self is no armour of proofe against affection. Therefore learne by my example. Alas thought Philoclea to her selfe, your sheeres come to late to clip the birds wings that already is flowne away.

But then Pamela being once set in the streame of her argument key no. 2 Loue, went away a maine withall, telling her how his noble qualities had drawne her liking towardes him; but yet euer waying his meanenes, & so held continu­ally in due limits; till seeking many meanes to speake with her, & euer kept from it (as wel because she shund it, seing and disdaining his mind, as because of her iea­lous iaylours) he had at length vsed the finest pollicie that might be in counterfaiting loue to Mopsa, & saying to Mopsa what soeuer he would haue her know: and in how passionate manner he had told his owne tale in a third person, making poore Mopsa beleue, that it was a matter fallen out many ages before. And in the end, be­cause you shal know my teares come not, neither of re­pētance nor misery, who thinke you, is my Dorus fallen[Page] out to be? euen the Prince, Musidorus, famous ouer all Asia, for his heroical enterprises, of whom you remem­ber how much good the straunger Plangus told my fa­ther; he not being drowned (as Plangus thought) though his cousin Pyrocles indeed perished. Ah my si­ster, if you had heard his words, or seene his gestures, when he made me know what, and to whom his loue was, you would haue matched in your selfe (those two rarely matched together) pittie and delight. Tell me deare sister (for the gods are my witnesses I desire to doo vertuously) can I without the detestable staine of vngratefulnesse abstaine from louing him, who (far ex­ceeding the beautifulnesse of his shape with the beau­tifulnesse of his minde, and the greatnesse of his estate with the greatnesse of his actes) is content so to abase him selfe, as to become Dametas seruaunt for my sake? you will say, but how know I him to be Musidorus, since the handmaid of wisdome is slow belief? That cōside­ratiō did not want in me, for the nature of desire it selfe is no easier to receiue beliefe, then it is hard to ground belief. For as desire is glad to embrace the first shew of comfort, so is desire desirous of perfect assuraunce: and that haue I had of him, not onely by necessary argu­ments to any of cōmon sense, but by sufficient demon­strations. Lastly he would haue me send to Thessalia: but truly I am not as now in mind to do my honorable Loue so much wrong, as so far to suspect him: yet poor soule knowes he no other, but that I doo both suspect, neglect, yea & detest him. For euery day he finds one way or other to set forth him selfe vnto me, but all are rewarded with like coldnesse of acceptation.

argument key no. 3 A few daies since, he & Dametas had furnished thē ­selues[Page 122] very richly to run at the ring before me. O how mad a sight it was to see Dametas, like rich Tissew furd with lambe skins? But ô how well it did with Dorus, to see with what a grace he presented him selfe before me on horseback, making maiestie wait vpon humblenes? how at the first, standing stil with his eies bent vpō me, as though his motiōs were chained to my looke, he so staide till I caused Mopsa bid him doo something vpon his horse: which no sooner said, but (with a kinde ra­ther of quick gesture, then shew of violēce) you might see him come towards me, beating the groūd in so due time, as no daunce can obserue better measure. If you remember the ship we saw once, whē the Sea went hie vpon the coast of Argos; so went the beast: But he (as if Cētaurlike he had bene one peece with the horse) was no more moued, then one is with the going of his owne legges: and in effect so did he command him, as his owne limmes, for though he had both spurres and wande, they seemed rather markes of soueraintie, then instruments of punishment; his hand and legge (with most pleasing grace) commāding without threatning, & rather remēbring then chastising, at lest if sometimes he did, it was so stolen, as neyther our eyes could dis­cerne it, nor the horse with any chaunce did cōplaine of it, he euer going so iust with the horse, either foorth right, or turning, that it seemed as he borrowed the horses body, so he lent the horse his minde: in the turning one might perceiue the bridle-hand somthing gently stir, but indeed so gently, as it did rather distill vertue, then vse violence. Him self (which me thinkes is straunge) shewing at one instant both steadines & nim­blenes; somtimes making him turne close to the groūd,[Page] like a cat, when scratchingly she wheeles about after a mouse: sometimes with a little more rising before, now like a Rauen leaping from ridge to ridge, then like one of Dametas kiddes bound ouer the hillocks: and all so done, as neither the lustie kinde shewed any roughnesse, nor the easier any idlenesse: but still like a well obeyed maister, whose becke is enough for a dis­cipline, euer concluding ech thing he did with his face to me-wards, as if thence came not onely the begin­ning, but ending of his motions. The sporte was to see Dametas, how he was tost from the sadle to the mane of the horse, and thence to the ground, giuing his gay apparell almost as foule an outside, as it had an inside. But as before he had euer said, he wanted but horse & apparell to be as braue a courtier as the best, so now brused with proofe, he proclaimed it a folly for a man of wisedome, to put himselfe vnder the tuition of a beast; so as Dorus was fayne alone to take the Ringe. Wherein truely at lest my womanish eyes could not discerne, but that taking his staffe from his thigh, the descending it a little downe, the getting of it vp into the rest, the letting of the point fall, and taking the ring was but all one motion, at lest (if they were di­uers motions) they did so stealingly slippe one into another, as the latter parte was euer in hande, before the eye could discerne the former was ended. Indeed Dametas found fault that he shewed no more strength in shaking of his staffe: but to my conceite the fine cleernes of bearing it was exceeding delightfull.

argument key no. 4 But how delightfull soeuer it was, my delight might well be in my soule, but it neuer went to looke out of the window to doo him any comfort. But how much[Page 123] more I found reason to like him, the more I set all the strength of mind to suppresse it, or at lest to conceale it. Indeed I must confesse, as some Physitions haue tolde me, that when one is cold outwardly, he is not inward­ly; so truly the colde ashes layed vpon my fire, did not take the nature of fire from it. Full often hath my brest swollen with keeping my sighes imprisoned; full of­ten haue the teares, I draue backe from mine eyes, tur­ned backe to drowne my harte. But alas what did that helpe poore Dorus? whose eyes (being his dili­gent intelligencers) coulde carrie vnto him no other newes, but discomfortable. I thinke no day past, but by some on inuention he would appeare vnto me to testifie his loue. One time he daunced the Matachine daunce in armour (O with what a gracefull dexteri­tie?) I thinke to make me see, that he had bene brought vp in such exercises: an other time he perswaded his maister (to make my time seeme shorter) in manner of a Dialogue, to play Priamus while he plaide Paris. Thinke (sweet Philoclea) what a Priamus we had: but truely, my Paris was a Paris, and more then a Paris: who while in a sauage apparell, with naked necke, armes, and legges, he made loue to Ocnone, you might wel see by his chaunged countenance, and true teares, that he felte the parte he playde. Tell me (sweet Phi­loclea) did you euer see such a shepheard? tell me, did you euer heare of such a Prince? And then tell me, if a small or vnworthy assaulte haue conquered me. Truely I would hate my life, if I thought vanitie led me. But since my parents deale so cruelly with me, it is time for me to trust something to my owne iudge­ment. Yet hetherto haue my lookes bene as I told you,[Page] which continuing after many of these his fruitles tri­als, haue wrought such change in him, as I tell you true (with that worde she laid her hand vpon her quaking side) I doo not a little feare him. See what a letter this is (then drewe she the curtaine and tooke the letter from vnder the pillowe) which to daie (with an affli­cted humblenesse) he deliuered me, pretending before Mopsa, that I should read it vnto her, to mollifie (for­sooth) her iron stomacke; with that she read the letter containing thus much.

argument key no. 5 MOst blessed paper, which shalt kisse that hād, where to al blessednes is in nature a seruāt, do not yet dis­dain to cary with thee the woful words of a miser now despairing: neither be afraid to appeare before her, bearing the base title of the sender. For no sooner shal that diuine hande touch thee, but that thy basenesse shall be turned to most hie preferment. Therefore mourne boldly my Inke; for while she lookes vpō you, your blacknes wil shine: crie out boldly my Lamētatiō; for while she reads you, your cries wil be musicke. Say then (O happy messenger of a most vnhappy message) that the too soone borne, too late dying creature, which dares not speake, no not looke, no not scarcely thinke (as from his miserable selfe, vnto her heauenly highnesse) onely presumes to desire thee (in the time that her eyes and voice doo exalt thee) to say, and in this manner to say, not from him, O no, that were not fit, but of him. Thus much vnto her sacred iudgement: O you, the onely, the onely honour to women, to men the onely admiration, you that being armed by Loue, defie him that armed you, in this high estate where­in you haue placed me, yet let me remember him[Page 124] to whom I am bound for bringing me to your pre­sence; and let me remember him, who (since he is yours, how meane so euer it be) it is reasō you haue an account of him. The wretch (yet your wretch) though with languishing steppes runnes fast to his graue, and will you suffer a temple (how poorely-built soeuer, but yet a temple of your deitie) to be rased? But he dy­eth: it is most true, he dyeth; and he in whom you liue, to obey you, dieth. Whereof though he plaine, he doth not complaine: for it is a harme, but no wrong, which he hath receiued. He dyes, because in wofull language all his senses tell him', that such is your pleasure: for since you will not that he liue, alas, alas, what followeth, what followeth of the most ruined Dorus, but his ende? Ende then, euill destinyed Dorus, ende; and ende thou wofull letter, end; for it suffiseth her wisedome to know, that her heauenly will shalbe accomplished.

O my Philoclea, is hee a person to write these argument key no. 6 words? and are these words lightly to be regarded? But if you had seene, when with trembling hand he had deliuered it, how hee went away, as if he had beene but the coffin that carried himselfe to his se­pulcher. Two times I must confesse I was about to take curtesie into mine eyes; but both times the for­mer resolution stopt the entrie of it: so that he de­parted without obtaining any further kindnesse. But he was no sooner out of the doore, but that I loo­ked to the doore kindly; and truely the feare of him e­uer since hath put me into such perplexitie, as now you found me. Ah my Pamela (said Philoclea) leaue sorrow. The riuer of your teares will soone loose his fountaine;[Page] it is in your hand as well to stitch vp his life againe, as it was before to rent it. And so (though with self-grieued mind) she comforted her sister, till sleepe came to bath himselfe in Pamelaes faire weeping eyes.

argument key no. 7 Which when Philoclea found, wringing her hands, O me (said she) indeed the onely subiect of the destinies displeasure, whose greatest fortunatenes is more vnfor­tunate, then my sisters greatest vnfortunatenesse. Alas shee weepes because she would be no sooner happy; I weepe because I can neuer be happie; her teares flow from pittie; mine from being too farre lower then the reach of pittie. Yet doo I not enuie thee, deare Pamela, I do not enuy thee: onely I could wish that being thy sister in nature, I were not so farre off a kin in fortune.

CHAP. 6.

1 The Ladies vprising, 2 and interrogatories to Dorus concerning Pyrocles and Euarchus. 3 His historiologie of E­uarchus kingly excellencies, 4 his entry on a most corrupt estate, 5 and reformation thereof by royall arts and actions. 6 His, and Dorilaus crosse-mariage to ech others sister, hauing by ech a sonne; their mutuall defence, with Dorilaus death.

argument key no. 1 Bvt the darkenesse of sorrow ouer­shadowing her mind, as the night did her eyes, they were both con­tent to hide themselues vnder the wings of sleepe, till the next mor­ning had almost lost his name, be­fore[Page 125] the two sweet sleeping sisters awaked frō dreames, which flattered them with more comfort, then their waking could, or would consent vnto. For then they were called vp by Miso; who hauing bene with Gynccia, had receiued commaundement to be continually with her daughters, and particularly not to let Zelmane and Philoclea haue any priuate cōferēce, but that she should be present to heare what passed. But Miso hauing now her authoritie encreased, came with skowling eyes to deliuer a slauering good morrow to the two Ladies, telling them, it was a shame for them to marre their complexions, yea and conditions to, with long lying a bedde: & that, when she was of their age, she trowed, she would haue made a handkerchiefe by that time of the day. The two sweete Princes with a smiling silence answered her entertainement, and obeying her directi­on, couered their daintie beauties with the glad clo­thes. But as soone as Pamela was readie (& sooner she was then her sister) the agony of Dorus giuing a fit to herselfe, which the words of his letter (liuely imprin­ted in her minde) still remembred her of, she called to Mopsa, and willed her to fetch Dorus to speake with her: because (she said) she woule take further iudgement of him, before she would moue Dametas to graunt her in mariage vnto him. Mopsa (as glad as of sweete-meate to goe of such an arrant) quickly returned with Do­rus to Pamela, who entended both by speaking with him to giue some comfort to his passionate harte, and withall to heare some part of his life past; which al­though fame had alreadie deliuered vnto her, yet she desired in more particular certainties to haue it from so beloued an historian. Yet the sweetnesse of vertues[Page] disposition iealous, euen ouer it selfe, suffred her not to enter abruptlie into questions of Musidorus (whom she was halfe ashamed she did loue so well, and more then halfe sorie she could loue no better) but thought best first to make her talke arise of Pyrocles, and his vertuous father: which thus she did.

argument key no. 2 Dorus (said she) you told me the last day, that Plangus was deceaued in that he affirmed the Prince Musidorus was drowned: but withall, you confessed his cosen Py­rocles perished; of whom certainly in that age there was a great losse, since (as I haue heard) he was a young Prince, of whō al mē expected as much, as mans power could bring forth, & yet vertue promised for him, their expectation should not be deceaued. Most excellent Ladie (said Dorus) no expectatiō in others, nor hope in himself could aspire to a higher mark, thē to be thought worthy to be praised by your iudgement, & made wor­thy to be praised by your mouth. But most sure it is, that as his fame could by no meanes get so sweete & noble an aire to flie in, as in your breath, so could not you (leauing, your selfe aside) finde in the world a fitter subiect of commendation; as noble, as a long successi­on of royall ancestors, famous, and famous of victories could make him: of shape most louely, and yet of mind more louely; valiant, curteous, wise, what should I say more? sweete Pyrocles, excellent Pyrocles, what can my words but wrong thy perfections, which I would to God in some small measure thou hadst bequethed to him that euer must haue thy vertues in admiration; that masked at least in them, I might haue found some more gratious acceptation? with that he imprisoned his looke for a while vpon Mopsa, who thereupon[Page 126] fell into a verie wide smiling. Truely (said Pamela) Do­rus I like well your minde, that can raise it selfe out of so base a fortune, as yours is, to thinke of the imitating so excellent a Prince, as Pyrocles was. Who shootes at the mid-day Sunne, though he be sure he shall neuer hit the marke; yet as sure he is, he shall shoote higher, then who aymes but at a bush. But I pray you Do­rus (said she) tell me (since I perceaue you are well ac­quainted with that storie) what Prince was that Euar­chus father to Pyrocles, of whom so much fame goes, for his rightly royall vertues, or by what wayes he got that opinion. And then so descend to the causes of his sen­ding first away from him, and then to him for that ex­cellent sonne of his, with the discourse of his life and losse: and therein you may (if you list) say something of that same Musidorus his cosen, because, they going togither, the story of Pyrocles (which I onely desire) may be the better vnderstood.

Incomparable Lady (said he) your commandement argument key no. 3 doth not onely giue me the wil, but the power to obey you, such influence hath your excellencie. And first, for that famous King Huarchus, he was (at this time you speake off) King of Macedon, a kingdome, which in elder time had such a soueraintie ouer all the prouinces of Greece, that euē the particular kings therin did acknow­ledge (with more or lesse degrees of homage) some kind of fealty thereunto: as among the rest, euen this now most noble (and by you ennobled) kingdome of Arcadia. But he, whē he came to his crowne finding by his later ancestors either negligēce, or misfortune, that in some ages many of those duties had bin intermitted, would neuer stirre vp old titles (how apparant soeuer)[Page] whereby the publike peace (with the losse of manie not guiltie soules) should be broken; but contenting himselfe to guide that shippe, wherein the heauens had placed him, shewed no lesse magnanimitie in daungerlesse despising, then others in daungerous af­fecting the multiplying of kingdomes: for the earth hath since borne enow bleeding witnesses, that it was no want of true courage. Who as he was most wise to see what was best, and most iust in the perfourming what he saw, & temperate in abstaining from any thing any way contrary: so thinke I, no thought can imagine a greater harte to see and contemne daunger, where daunger would offer to make any wrongfull threat­ning vpon him. A Prince, that indeed especially mea­sured his greatnesse by his goodnesse: and if for any thing he loued greatnesse, it was, because therein he might exercise his goodnes. A Prince of a goodly a­spect, and the more goodly by a graue maiestie, where­with his mind did decke his outward graces; strong of body, and so much the stronger, as he by a well discipli­ned exercise taught it both to do, and suffer. Of age, so as he was about fiftie yeares when his Nephew Musido­rus tooke on such shepherdish apparell for the loue of the worlds paragon, as I now weare.

argument key no. 4 This King left Orphan both of father and mother, (whose father & grandfather likewise had dyed yong) he found his estate, when he came to age (which al­lowed his authoritie) so disioynted euen in the noblest & strongest lims of gouernmēt, that the name of a King was growne euē odious to the people, his autority ha­uing bin abused by those great Lords, & litle kings: who in those betweene-times of raigning (by vniust fauou­ring[Page 127] ring those that were partially theirs, & oppressing them that woulde defende their libertie against them had brought in (by a more felt then seene maner of procee­ding) the worst kind of Oligarchie; that is, whē men are gouerned in deede by a fewe, and yet are not taught to know what those fewe be, to whom they should obey. For they hauing the power of kinges, but not the na­ture of kings, vsed the authority as men do their farms, of which they see within a yeere they shal goe out: ma­king the Kinges sworde strike whom they hated, the Kings purse reward whom they loued: and (which is worst of all) making the Royall countenance serue to vndermine the Royall soueraintie. For the Subiectes could taste no sweeter fruites of hauing a King, then grieuous taxations to serue vaine purposes; Lawes made rather to finde faults, then to preuent faultes: the Court of a Prince rather deemed as a priuiledged place of vnbrideled licentiousnes, then as a biding of him, who as a father, should giue a fatherly example vnto his people. Hence grew a very dissolution of all estates, while the great men (by the nature of ambition neuer satisfied) grew factious among themselues: and the vn­derlings, glad indeede to be vnderlings to them they hated left, to preserue them from such they hated most. Men of vertue suppressed, lest their shining should dis­couer the others filthines; and at length vertue it selfe almost forgotten, when it had no hopefull end where­unto to be directed; olde men long nusled in corrupti­on, scorning them that would seeke reformation; yong men very fault-finding, but very faultie: and so to new­fanglenes both of manners, apparrell, and each thing[Page] els, by the custome of selfe-guiltie euill, glad to change though oft for a worse; marchandise abused, and so townes decayed for want of iust and naturall libertie; offices, euen of iudging soules, solde; publique defen­ces neglected; and in summe, (left too long I trouble you) all awrie, and (which wried it to the most wrie course of all) witte abused, rather to faine reason why it should be amisse, then how it should be amen­ded.

argument key no. 5 In this, and a much worse plight then it is fitte to trouble your excellent eares withal, did the King Enar­chus finde his estate, when he tooke vpon him the regi­ment: which by reason of the long streame of abuse, he was forced to establish by some euen extreme seue­ritie, not so much for the very faultes themselues, (which he rather sought to preuent then to punish) as for the faultie ones; who strong, euen in their faultes, scorned his youth, and could not learne to disggest, that the man which they so long had vsed to maske their owne appetites, should now be the reducer of them into order. But so soone as some fewe (but in deede notable) examples, had thundred a duetie into the subiects hartes, he soone shewed, no basenes of sus­pition, nor the basest basenes of enuie, could any whit rule such a Ruler. But then shined foorth indeede all loue among them, when an awfull feare, ingendred by iustice, did make that loue most louely: his first & prin­cipall care being to appeare vnto his people, such as he would haue them be, & to be such as he appeared; ma­king his life the example of his lawes, as it were; his a­ctions arising out of his deedes. So that within small[Page 128] time, he wanne a singular loue in his people, and en­grassed singular confidence. For how could they chuse but loue him, whom they found so truely to loue thē? He euen in reason disdayning, that they that haue charge of beastes, should loue their charge, and care for them; and that he that was to gouerne the most ex­cellent creature, should not loue so noble a charge. And therefore, where most Princes (seduced by flatterie to builde vpon false grounds of gouernment) make them­selues (as it were) another thing from the people; and so count it gaine what they can get from them: and (as if it were two counter-ballances, that their estate goes hiest when the people goes lowest) by a fallacie of ar­gument thinking themselues most Kinges, when the subiect is most basely subiected: he contrariwise, vertu­ouslie and wisely acknowledgeing, that he with his peo­ple made all but one politike bodie, whereof himselfe was the head; euen so cared for them, as he woulde for his owne limmes: neuer restrayning their liberty, with­out it stretched to licenciousnes, norpulling from them their goods, which they found were not imployed to the purchase of a greater good: but in all his actions shewing a delight to their welfare, broght that to passe, that while by force he tooke nothing, by their loue he had all. In summe (peerelesse Princesse) I might as easily sette downe the whole Arte of gouernement, as to lay before your eyes the picture of his proceedings. But in such forte he flourished in the sweete comforte of dooing much good, when by an action of leauing his Countrie, he was forced to bring foorth his ver­tue of magnanimitie, as before he had done of iu­stice.

argument key no. 6 He had onely one sister, a Ladie (left I should too easilie fall to partiall prayses of her) of whom it may be iustly said, that she was no vnfit brāch to the noble stock where of she came. Her he had giuen in mariage to Dori­laus, Prince of Thessalia, not so much to make a frēdship, as to cōfirm the frēdship betwixt their posteritie, which betweene them, by the likenes of vertue, had been long before made: for certainly, Dorilaus could neede no amplifiers mouth for the highest point of praise. Who hath not head (said Pamela) of the valiāt, wife, and iust Dorilaus, whose vnripe death doth yet (so many years since) draw teares frō vertuous eyes?. And indeede, my father is wont to speak of nothing with greater admira­tion, then of the notable friendshippe (a rare thing in Princes, more rare betwene Princes) that so holily was obserued to the last, of those two excellent men. But (said she) goe on I pray you. Dorilaus (said he) hauing maried his sister, had his mariage in short time blest (for so are folke woont to say, how vnhappie soeuer the children after grow) with a sonne, whom they named Musidorus: of whom I must needes first speake before I come to Pyrocles; because as he was borne first, so vpon his occasion grew (as I may say accidentally) the others birth. For scarcely was Musidorus made partaker of this oft-blinding light, when there were found numbers of Southsayers, who affirmed strange & incredible things should be performed by that childe; whether the hea­uens at that time listed to play with ignorant mankind, or that flatterie be so presumptuous, as euen at times to borow the face of Diuinitie. But certainly, so did the boldnes of their affirmation accompanie the greatnes of what they did affirme (euen descending to particula­rities,[Page 129] what kingdomes he should ouercome) that the King of Phrygia (who ouer-superstitiously thought him selfe touched in the matter) sought by force to de­stroy the infant, to preuent his after-expectations: be­cause a skilful man (hauing compared his natiuity with the child) so told him. Foolish mā, either vainly fearing what was not to be feared, or not considering, that if it were a worke of the superiour powers, the heauens at length are neuer children. But so he did, & by the aid of the Kings of Lydia and Crete (ioining together their a­rmies) inuaded Thessalia, & brought Dorilaus to some be­hind-hand of fortune, when his faithfull friend & bro­ther Euarchus came so mightily to his succour, that with some enterchanging changes of fortune, they be­gat of a iust war, the best child, peace. In which time E­uarchus made a crosse marriage also with Dorilaus his si­ster, & shortly left her with child of the famous Pyrocles, driuen to returne to the defence of his owne countrie, which in his absence (helped with some of the ill con­tented nobilitie) the mighty King of Thrace, & his bro­ther, King of Pannonia, had inuaded. The successe of those warres was too notable to be vnknowne to your eares, to which it seemes all worthy same hath glory to come vnto. But there was Dorilaus (valiantly requiting his friēds helpe) in a great battaile depriued of his life, his obsequies being no more solēnised by the teares of his partakers, th̄e the bloud of his enimies; with so pear­cing a sorrow to the constant hart of Euarchus, that the newes of his sons birth could lighten his countenance with no shew of comfort, although al the comfort that might be in a child, truth it selfe in him forthwith deli­uered. For what fortune onely southsayers foretold of Musidorus, that all men might see prognosticated in Py­rocles; [Page] both Heauens & Earth giuing tokēs of the com­ming forth of an Heroicall vertue. The senate house of the planets was at no time to set, for the decreeing of perfectiō in a man, as at that time all folkes skilful ther­in did acknowledge: onely loue was threatned, and promised to him, and so to his cousin, as both the tem­pest and hauen of their best yeares. But as death may haue preuented Pyrocles, so vnworthinesse must be the death to Musidorus.

CHAP. 7.

1 The education of Pyrocles & Musidorus. 2 Their friend­ship, 3 nauigation, 4 and first shipwracke. 5 The straunge gratitude of two brothers to them, vpon their liberalitie to those two brothers.

argument key no. 1 Bvt the mother of Pyrocles (short­ly after her childe-birth) dying, was cause that Euarchus recom­mended the care of his only son to his sister; doing it the rather because the warre continued in cruell heat, betwixt him & those euil neighbours of his. In which meane time those young Princes (the only comforters of that vertuous widow) grewe on so, that Pyrocles taught admiration to the hardest conceats: Musidorus (perchaunce because among his subiectes) exceeding­ly beloued: and by the good order of Euarchus (well perfourmed by his sister) they were so brought vp, that all the sparkes of vertue, which nature had kindled in thē, were so blowne to giue forth their vttermost heate[Page 130] that iustly it may be affirmed, they enflamed the affecti­ons of all that knew thē. For almost before they could perfectly speake, they began to receaue cōceits not vn­worthy of the best speakers: excellent deuises being v­sed, to make euen their sports profitable; images of bat­tailes, & fortificatiōs being then deliuered to their me­mory, which after, their stronger iudgemēts might dis­pens, the delight of tales being cōuerted to the know­ledge of al the stories of worthy Princes, both to moue them to do nobly, & teach them how to do nobly; the beautie of vertue still being set before their eyes, & that taught them with far more diligent care, then Grāma­tical rules, their bodies exercised in all abilities, both of doing and suffring, & their mindes acquainted by de­grees with daungers; & in sum, all bent to the making vp of princely mindes: no seruile feare vsed towardes them, nor any other violent restraint, but stil as to Prin­ces: so that a habite of commaunding was naturalized in them, and therefore the farther from Tyrannie: Na­ture hauing done so much for them in nothing, as that it made them Lords of truth, whereon all the other goods were builded.

Among which I nothing so much delight to re­count,argument key no. 2 as the memorable friendship that grewe be­twixt the two Princes, such as made them more like then the likenesse of all other vertues, and made them more neer one to the other, then the neerenes of their bloud could aspire vnto; which I think grew the faster, and the faster was tied betweene them, by reason that Musidorus being elder by three or foure yeares, it was neither so great a difference in age as did take away the delight in societie, and yet by the difference there was[Page] taken away the occasion of childish contentions; till they had both past ouer the humour of such contenti­ons. For Pyrocles bare reuerēce ful of loue to Musi­dorus, & Musidorus had a delight full of loue in Pyrocles. Musidorus, what he had learned either for body or minde, would teach it to Pyrocles; and Pyrocles was so glad to learne of none, as of Musidorus: till Pyrocles, being come to sixtene yeares of age, he seemed so to ouerrun his age in growth, strength, and al things following it, that not Musidorus, no nor any man liuing (I thinke) could performe any action, either on horse, or foote, more strongly, or deliuer that strength more nimbly, or be­come the deliuery more gracefully, or employ al more vertuously. Which may well seeme wonderfull: but wonders are no wonders in a wonderfull subiect.

argument key no. 3 At which time vnderstanding that the King Euar­chus, after so many yeares warre, and the conquest of all Pannonia, and almost Thrace, had now brought the cō ­clusion of al to the siege of Bizantium (to the raising of which siege great forces were made) they would needs fall to the practise of those vertues, which they before learned. And therefore the mother of Musidorus nobly yeelding ouer her owne affects to her childrens good (for a mother she was in effect to thē both) the rather that they might helpe her beloued brother, they brake of all delayes; which Musidorus for his parte thought al­ready had deuoured too much of his good time, but that he had once graunted a boone (before he knew what it was) to his deere friend Pyrocles; that he would neuer seeke the aduentures of armes, vntil he might go with him: which hauing fast boūd his hart (a true slaue to faith) he had bid a tedious delay of following his[Page 131] owne humour for his friends sake, till now finding him able euery way to go thorow with that kinde of life, he was as desirous for his sake, as for his owne, to enter into it. So therefore preparing a nauie, that they might go like themselues, and not onely bring the comfort of their presence, but of their power to their deere parent Euarchus, they recommended them­selues to the Sea, leauing the shore of Thessalia full of teares and vowes; and were receiued thereon with so smooth and smiling a face, as if Neptune had as then learned falsely to fawne on Princes. The winde was like a seruaunt, wayting behind them so iust, that they might fill the sailes as they listed; and the best saylers shewing themselues lesse couetous of his liberalitie, so tempered it, that they all kept together like a beau­tifull flocke, which so well could obey their maisters pipe: without sometimes, to delight the Princes eies, some two or three of them would striue, who could (ei­ther by the cunning of well spending the windes breath, or by the aduantageous building of their moo­uing houses) leaue their fellowes behind them in the honour of speed: while the two Princes had leasure to see the practise of that, which before they had learned by bookes: to consider the arte of catching the winde prisoner, to no other ende, but to runne away with it; to see how beautie, and vse can so well agree together, that of all the trinckets, where with they are attired, there is not one but serues to some necessary purpose. And (ô Lord) to see the admirable power & noble ef­fects of Loue, whereby the seeming insensible Load­stone, with a secret beauty (holding the spirit of iron in it) can draw that hard-harted thing vnto it, and (like a[Page] vertuous mistresse) not onely make it bow it selfe, but with it make it aspire to so high a Loue, as of the hea­uenly Poles; and thereby to bring foorth the noblest deeds, that the children of the Earth can boast of. And so the Princes delighting their cōceats with cōfirming their knowledge, seing wherein the Sea-discipline dif­fered from Land-seruice, they had for a day & almost a whole night, as pleasing entertainement, as the falsest hart could giue to him he meanes worst to.

argument key no. 4 But by that the next morning began a little to make a guilden shewe of a good meaning, there arose euen with the Sun, a vaile of darke cloudes before his face, which shortly (like inck powred into water) had blac­ked ouer all the face of heauen; preparing (as it were) a mournefull stage for a Tragedie to be plaied on. For forthwith the windes began to speake lowder, and as in a tumultuous kingdome, to thinke themselues fittest instruments of commaundement; and blowing whole stormes of hayle and raine vpon them, they were soo­ner in daunger, then they coulde almost bethinke themselues of chaunge. For then the traiterous Sea began to swell in pride against the afflicted Nauie, vn­der which (while the heauen fauoured them) it had layne so calmely, making mountaines of it selfe, o­uer which the tossed and tottring ship shoulde clime, to be streight carried downe againe to a pit of hellish darkenesse; with such cruell blowes against the sides of the shippe (that which way soeuer it went, was still in his malice) that there was left neither power to stay, nor way to escape. And shortly had it so diffeuered the louing companie, which the daie before had tar­ried together, that most of them neuer met againe,[Page 132] but were swallowed vp in his neuer-satisfied mouth. Some indeed (as since was knowne) after long wan­dring returned into Thessalia; other recouered Bizan­tium, and serued Euarchus in his warre. But in the ship wherein the Princes were (now left as much alone as proud Lords be when fortune fails them) though they employed all industrie to saue themselues, yet what they did was rather for dutie to nature, then hope to e­scape. So ougly a darkenesse, as if it would preuent the nights comming, vsurped the dayes right: which (ac­companied sometimes with thunders, alwayes with horrible noyses of the chasing winds) made the masters and pilors so astonished, that they knew not how to di­rect, and if they knew they could scarcely (when they directed) heare their owne whistle. For the sea straue with the winds which should be lowder, & the shrouds of the ship with a ghastful noise to them that were in it, witnessed, that their ruine was the wager of the others contention, and the heauen roaring out thunders the more amazed them, as hauing those powers for eni­mies. Certainely there is no daunger carries with it more horror, then that which growes in those flowing kingdomes. For that dwelling place is vnnaturall to mankind, and then the terriblenesse of the continuall motion, the dissolutiō of the fare being from comfort, the eye and the eare hauing ougly images euer before it, doth still vex the minde, euen when it is best armed against it. But thus the day past (if that might be called a day) while the cunningest mariners were so conque­red by the storme, as they thought it best with stri­king sailes to yeelde to be gouerned by it: the valian­test feeling inward dismayednesse, and yet the feare­fullest[Page] ashamed fully to shew it, seeing that the Prin­ces (who were to parte from the greatest fortunes) did in their countenances accuse no point of feare, but encouraging them to doo what might be done (put­ting their handes to euerie most painefull office) taught them at one instant to promise themselues the best, and yet not to despise the worst. But so were they carryed by the tyrannie of the winde, and the treason of the sea, all that night, which the el­der it was, the more wayward it shewed it selfe to­wards them: till the next morning (knowne to be a morning better by the houre-glasse, then by the day cleerenesse) hauing runne fortune as blindly, as it selfe euer was painted, lest the conclusion should not aunswere to the rest of the play, they were driuen vp­on a rocke: which hidden with those outragious waues, did, as it were, closely dissemble his cruel mind, till with an vnbeleeued violence (but to them that haue tried it) the shippe ranne vpon it; and seeming willinger to perish then to haue her course stayed, re­doubled her blowes, till she had broken her selfe in peeces; and as it were tearing out her owne bowels to feede the seas greedinesse, left nothing within it but despaire of safetie, and expectation of a loathsome end. There was to be seene the diuerse manner of minds in distresse: some sate vpon the toppe of the poupe wee­ping and wailing, till the sea swallowed them; some one more able to abide death, then feare of death, cut his owne throate to preuent drowning; some prayed, and there wanted not of them which cursed, as if the heauens could not be more angrie then they were. But a monstrous crie begotten of manie roaring[Page 133] vowes, was able to infect with feare a minde that had not preuented it with the power of reason.

But the Princes vsing the passions of fearing euill,argument key no. 5 and desiring to escape, onely to serue the rule of ver­tue, not to abandon ones selfe, lept to a ribbe of the shippe, which broken from his fellowes, floted with more likely hood to doo seruice, then any other limme of that ruinous bodie; vpon which there had gotten alreadie two brethren, well knowne seruants of theirs; and streight they soure were carryed out of sight, in that huge rising of the sea, from the rest of the shippe. But the peece they were on sinking by little and lit­tle vnder them, not able to support the weight of so manie, the brethren (the elder whereof was Leu­cippus, the younger Nelsus) shewed themselues right faithfull and gratefull seruants vnto them; gratefull (I say) for this cause: Those two gentlemen had bene taken prisoners in the great warre the king of Phrygia made vpon Thessalia, in the time of Musidorus his in­fancie; and hauing beene solde into another countrie (though peace fell after betweene these Realmes) could not be deliuered, because of their valor knowne, but for a farre greater summe, then either all their friends were able, or the Dowager willing to make, in respect of the great expences her selfe and people had bene put to in those warres; and so had they remained in prison about thirteene yeares, when the two young Princes (hearing speaches of thier good deserts) found meanes both by selling all the Iewels they had of great price, and by giuing vnder their hands great estates when they should come to be Kings (which promises their vertue promised for them should be kept) to get[Page] so much treasure as redeemed them from captiuitie. This remembred, and kindly remembred by these two brothers, perchance helped by a naturall duetie to their Princes blood, they willingly left holde of the boord, committing themselues to the seas rage, & euen when they went to dye, themselues praying for the Princes liues. It is true, that neither the paine nor daunger, so moued the Princes hartes as the tendernesse of that lo­uing part, farre from glorie, hauing so few lookers on; farre from hope of reward, since themselues were sure to perish.

CHAP. 8.

1 Pyrocles cast on the shore of Phrygia 2 led prisoner to the King. 3 That suspicious tyrant naturalized. 4 His intent to kill Pyrocles. 5 Musidorus-his escape from sea, and offer to dye for his friend. 6 Their contention for death. 7 Preparation for Musidorus execution. 8 His straunge deliuerie by Pyrocles, 9 and a sodaine mutinie. 10 Their killing the bad King, 11 and creating a better.

argument key no. 1 BVt now of all the royal Nauie they had left but one peece of one ship, whereon they kept themselues in all trueth, hauing enterchaunged their cares, while either cared for other, ech comforting and coun­celling how to labour for the bet­ter, and to abide the worse. But so fell it out, that as they were carryed by the tide (which there seconded by the storme ran exceedingly swiftly)[Page 134] Musidorus seeing (as he thought) Pyrocles not well vp­on the boord, as he would with his right hand haue helped him on better, he had no sooner vnfastned his hold, but that a waue forcibly spoiled his weaker hand of hold; and so for a time parted those friends, each crying to the other, but the noise of the sea drowned their farewell. But Pyrocles (then carelesse of death, if it had come by any meanes, but his owne) was short­ly brought out of the seas furie to the lands comfort; when (in my conscience I know) that comfort was but bitter vnto him. And bitter indeed it fell out euen in it selfe to be vnto him.

For being cast on land much brused & beaten both argument key no. 2 with the seas hard farewell, and the shores rude wel­come; and euen almost deadly tired with the length of his vncomfortable labour, as he was walking vp to dis­couer some bodie, to whom he might goe for reliefe, there came streight running vnto him certaine, who (as it was after knowne) by appointment watched (with manie others) in diuerse places along the coast: who laide handes of him, and without either questio­ning with him, or shewing will to heare him, (like men fearefull to appeare curious) or which was worse hauing no regard to the hard plight he was in (be­ing so wette and weake) they carried him some miles thence, to a house of a principall officer of that coun­trie. Who with no more ciuilitie (though with much more busines then those vnder-fellowes had shewed) beganne in captious manner to put interrogatories vnto him. To which he (vnused to such entertainment) did shortlie and plainely aunswere, what he was, and how he came thither.

But that no sooner knowne, with numbers of armed men to garde him (for mischiefe, not from mischiefe) he was sent to the Kings court, which as then was not aboue a dayes iourney off, with letters from that offi­cer, containing his owne seruiceable diligence in disco­uering so great a personage; adding with all more then was true of his coniectures, because he would endeare his owne seruice.

argument key no. 3 This country whereon he fell was Phrygia, and it was to the King thereof to whom he was sent, a Prince of a melancholy constitution both of bodie and mind; wickedly sad, euer musing of horrible matters; suspe­cting, or rather condemning all men of euill, because his minde had no eye to espie goodnesse: and there­fore accusing Sycophantes, of all men did best sort to his nature; but therefore not seeming Sycophantes, be­cause of no euill they said, they could bring any new or doubtfull thing vnto him, but such as alreadie he had bene apt to determine; so as they came but as proofes of his wisedome: fearefull and neuer secure; while the feare he had figured in his minde had any possibilitie of euent. A tode-like retyrednesse, and closenesse of minde; nature teaching the odiousnesse of poyson, and the daunger of odiousnesse. Yet while youth lasted in him, the exercises of that age, and his humour (not yet fullie discouered) made him some­thing the more frequentable, and lesse daungerous. But after that yeares beganne to come on with some, though more seldome shewes of a bloudie na­ture, and that the prophecie of Musidorus destinie came to his eares (deliuered vnto him, and receiued of him with the hardest interpretation, as though[Page 135] his subiectes did delight in the hearing thereof.) Then gaue he himselfe indeede to full currant of his disposition, espetially after the warre of Thessalia, wherein (though in trueth wrongly) he deemed, his vnsuccessings proceeded of their vnwillingnes to haue him prosper: and then thinking him selfe contemned, (knowing no countermine against contempt, but ter­ror) began to let nothing passe which might beare the colour of a fault, without sharpe punishment: & when he wanted faults, excellencie grew a fault; and it was sufficient to make one guiltie, that he had power to be guiltie. And as there is no honor, to which impudent pouertie cannot make it selfe seruiceable, so were there enow of those desperate ambitious, who would builde their houses vpon others ruines, which after shoulde fall by like practises. So as seruitude came mainly vpon that poore people, whose deedes were not onely puni­shed, but words corrected, and euen thoughts by some meane or other puld out of thē: while suspitiō bred the mind of crueltie, and the effectes of crueltie stirred a new cause of suspition. And in this plight (ful of watch­full fearefulnes) did the storme deliuer sweete Pyrocles to the stormie minde of that Tyrant, all men that did such wrong to so rare a stranger (whose countenaunce deserued both pitie and admiration) condemning thē ­selues as much in their hearts, as they did brag in their forces.

But when this bloudy King knew what he was, and argument key no. 4 in what order he and his cosin Musidorus (so much of him feared) were come out of Thessalia, assuredly thin­king (because euer thinking the worst) that those for­ces were prouided against him; glad of the perishing[Page] (as he thought) of Musidorus, determined in publique sort to put Pyrocles to death. For hauing quite loste the way of noblenes, he straue to clime to the height of ter­riblenes; and thinking to make all men adread, to make such one an enemie, who would not spare, nor feare to kill so great a Prince; and lastly, hauing nothing in him why to make him his friend, thought, he woulde make him away, for being his enemie. The day was appoin­ted, and all things appointed for that cruell blow, in so solemne an order, as if they would set foorth tyrāny in most gorgeous decking. The Princely youth of inuin­cible valour, yet so vniustly subiected to such outragi­ous wrong, carrying himselfe in all his demeanure so constātly, abiding extremitie, that one might see it was the cutting away of the greatest hope of the world, and destroying vertue in his sweetest grouth.

argument key no. 5 But so it fell out that his death was preuented by a rare example of friendshippe in Musidorus: who being almost drowned, had bene taken vp by a Fisherman belonging to the kingdome of Pontus; and being there, and vnderstanding the full discourse (as Fame was very prodigall of so notable an accident) in what case Pyro­cles was; learning withall, that his hate was farre more to him then to Pyrocles, he founde meanes to acquaint him selfe with a noble-man of that Countrie, to whom largely discouering what he was, he found him a most fitte instrument to effectuate his desire. For this noble­man had bene one, who in many warres had serued Euarchus, and had bene so mind-striken by the beautie of vertue in that noble King, that (though not borne his Subiect) he euen profeste himselfe his seruaunt. His desire therefore to him was, to keepe Musidorus [Page 136] in a strong Castle of his, and then to make the King of Phrygia vnderstande, that if he would deliuer Pyrocles, Musidorus woulde willingly put him selfe into his handes: knowing well, that how thirstie so euer he was of Pyrocles bloud, he woulde rather drinke that of Musidorus.

The Nobleman was loath to preserue one by the losse of another, but time vrging resolution: the im­portunitie of Musidorus (who shewed a minde not to ouer-liue Pyrocles) with the affection he bare to Euar­chus, so preuayled, that he carried this strange offer of Musidorus, which by that Tyrant was greedelie ac­cepted.

And so vpon securitie of both sides, they were argument key no. 6 enterchanged. Where I may not omitte that worke of friendshippe in Pyrocles, who both in speache and coūtenance to Musidorus, well shewed, that he thought himselfe iniured, and not releeued by him: asking him, what he had euerseene in him, why he could not beare the extremities of mortall accidentes as well as any man? and why he shoulde enuie him the glorie of suffering death for his friendes cause, and (as it were) robbe him of his owne possession? But in this notable contention, (where the conquest must be the conquerers destruction, and safetie the punishment of the conquered) Musidorus preuayled: because he was a more welcome prize to the vniuste King, that wisht none well, to them worse then others, and to him worste of all: and as chearefully going to­wardes, as Pyrocles went frowardly fromwarde his death, he was deliuered to the King, who could not be inough sure of him, without he fed his owne eies vpon[Page] one, whom he had begon to feare, as soone as the o­ther began to be.

argument key no. 7 Yet because he would in one acte, both make often­tation of his owne felicitie (into whose hands his most feared enemie was fallen) and withal cut of such hopes from his suspected subiects (when they should knowe certainly he was dead) with much more skilful cruelty, and horrible solemnitie he caused each thing to be pre­pared for his triumph of tyrannie. And so the day be­ing come, he was led foorth by many armed men (who often had beene the fortifiers of wickednes) to the place of execution: where comming with a mind com­forted in that he had done such seruice to Pyrocles, this strange encounter he had.

argument key no. 8 The excelling Pyrocles was no sooner deliuered by the kings seruants to a place of liberty, then he bent his witte and courage, (and what would not they bring to passe?) how ether to deliuer Musidorus, or to perish with him. And (finding he could get in that countrie no for­ces sufficient by force to rescue him) to bring himselfe to die with him, (little hoping of better euent) he put himselfe in poore rayment, and by the helpe of some few crownes he tooke of that noble-man, (who full of sorrow, though not knowing the secrete of his intent, suffered him to goe in such order from him) he (euen he, born to the greatest expectation, and of the greatest bloud that any Prince might be) submitted himselfe to be seruant to the executioner that should put to death Musidorus: a farre notabler proofe of his friendship, considering the height of his minde, then any death could be. That bad officer not suspecting him, being a­raied fit for such an estate, & hauing his beautie hidden[Page 137] by many foule spots he artificially put vpon his face, gaue him leaue not onely to weare a sworde himselfe, to beare his sworde prepared for the iustified mur­ther. And so Pyrocles taking his time, when Musidorus was vpon the scaffold (separated somewhat from the rest as allowed to say something) he stept vnto him, & putting the sworde into his hande not bound (a point of ciuility the officers vsed towards him, because they doubted no such enterprise) Musidorus (said he) die nobly. In truth, neuer mā betweene ioy before know­ledge what to be glad of, and feare after cōsidering his cafe, had such a confusion of thoughts, as I had, when I saw Pyrocles, so neare me. But with that Dorus blushed, and Pamela smiled: and Dorus the more blushed at her smiling, and she the more smiled at his blushing; be­cause he had (with the remembraunce of that plight was in) forgotten in speaking of him selfe to vse the therd person. But Musidorus turned againe her thoughts from his cheekes to his tongue in this forte: But (said he) when they were with swordes in handes, not tur­ning backes one to the other (for there they knew was place of defence) but making that a preseruation in nothoping to be preserued, and now acknowledging themselues subiect to death, meaning onely to do ho­nour to their princely birth, they flew amongst thē all (for all were enimies) & had quickly either with flight or death, left none vpon the scaffolde to annoy them. Wherein Pyrocles (the excellent Pyrocles) did such won­ders beyond beliefe, as was hable to leade Musidorus to courage, though he had bene borne a coward. But in­deed, iust rage & desperate vertue did such effects, that popular sorte of the beholders began to be almost[Page] superstitiously amazed, as at effectes beyond mortall power. But the King with angry threatnings from-out a window (where he was not ashamed, the worlde should behold him a beholder) cōmaunded his garde, and the rest of his souldiers to hasten their death. But many of them lost their bodies to loose their soules, when the Princes grew almost so weary, as they were ready to be conquered with conquering.

argument key no. 9 But as they were stil fighting with weake armes, and strong harts, it happened, that one of the souldiers (cō ­maūded to go vp after his fellowes against the Princes) hauing receiued a light hurt, more woūded in his hart, went backe with as much diligence, as he came vp with modestie: which another of his fellowes seeing, to pike a thanke of the King, strake him vpon the face, reuiling him, that so accompanied, he would runne a­way from so fewe. But he (as many times it falls out) onely valiant, when he was angrie, in reuenge thrust him through: which with his death was streight re­uenged by a brother of his: and that againe requited by a fellow of the others. There began to be a great tumult amongst the souldiers; which seene, and not vnderstood by the people (vsed to feares but not vsed to be bolde in them) some began to crie treason; and that voice streight multiplying it selfe, the King (O the cowardise of a guiltie conscience) before any man set vpon him, fled away. Where-with a bruit (either by arte of some well meaning men, or by such chaunce as such thinges often fall out by) ran from one to the o­ther, that the King was slaine; wherwith certaine yong men of the brauest minds, cried with lowde voice, Li­bertie; and encouraging the other Citizens to follow[Page 138] them, set vpon the garde, and souldiers as chiefe instru­ments of Tyrannie: and quickly, aided by the Princes, They had left none of them aliue, nor any other in the cittie, who they thought had in any sorte set his hand to the worke of their seruitude, and (God knowes) by the blindnesse of rage, killing many guiltles persons, ei­ther for affinity to the Tyrant, or enmitie to the tyrant­killers. But some of the wisest (seeing that a popular li­cence is indeede the many-headed tyranny) preuailed with the rest to make Musidorus their chiefe: choosing one of them (because Princes) to defende them, and him because elder and most hated of the Tyrant, and by him to be ruled: whom foorthwith they lifted vp, fortune (I thinke) smiling at her worke therein, that a scaffold of execution should grow a scaffold of coro­nation.

But by and by there came newes of more certaine argument key no. 10 truth, that the King was not dead, but fled to a strong castle of his, neere hād, where he was gathering forces in all speed possible to suppresse this mutinie. But now they had run themselues too farre out of breath, to go backe againe the same career; and too well they knew the sharpnesse of his memorie to forget such an iniury; therefore learning vertue of necessitie, they continued resolute to obey Musidorus. Who seing what forces were in the citie, with them issued against the Tyrant, while they were in this heat; before practises might be vsed to disseuer them: & with them met the King, who likewise hoping little to preuaile by time, (knowing and finding his peoples hate) met him with little delay in the field: where him selfe was slaine by Musidorus, after he had seene his onely sonne (a Prince of great[Page] courage & beautie, but fostred in bloud by his naughty Father) slaine by the hand of Pyrocles. This victory ob­teined, with great, and truly not vndeserued honour to the two Princes, the whole estates of the country with one consent, gaue the crowne and all other markes of soueraigntie to Musidorus; desiring nothing more, then to liue vnder such a gouernment, as they promised thēselues of him.

argument key no. 11 But he thinking it a greater greatnes to giue a king­dome, then get a kingdome; vnderstanding that there was left of the bloud Roiall, & next to the successiō, an aged Gentleman of approued goodnes (who had got­ten nothing by his cousins power, but danger frō him, and odiousnes for him) hauing past his time in modest secrecy, & asmuch from entermedling in matters of gouernment, as the greatnesse of his bloud would suffer him, did (after hauing receiued the full power to his owne hands) resigne all to the noble-mā: but with such conditions, & cautions of the conditions, as might as­sure the people (with asmuch assurāce as worldly mat­ters beare) that not onely that gouernour, of whom in­deed they looked for al good, but the nature of the go­uernment, should be no way apt to decline to Tyrāny.

CHAP. 9.

1 The two brothers escape to the shore of Pontus. 2 Incōstancy, 3 and enuie purtraied in the King & his Counsellor. 4 The aduancement & ouerthrow by them of those two brothers. 5 The reuenge thereof by the two Princes. 6 The cruelties of two reuengefull Gyants, and their death by the Princes. 7 Their honours, and their honourable mindes.

argument key no. 1 THis dooing set foorth no lesse hismagnificēce, then the other act did his magnanitie: so that greatly praysed of al, and iustly beloued of the newe King, who in all both wordes and behauiour protested him selfe their Tenaunt, or Liege­man, they were drawne thence to reuenge those two seruāts of theirs, of whose memora­ble faith, I told you (most excellēt Princesse) in willing­ly giuing themselues to be drowned for their sakes: but drowned indeed they were not, but gat with painefull swimming vpon a rocke: frō whence (after being come as neere famishing, as before drowning) the weather breaking vp, they were brought to the maine lande of Pontus; the same coūtry vpon which Musidorus also was fallen, but not in so luckie a place.

argument key no. 2 For they were brought to the King of that country,a Tyrant also, not thorow suspition, greedines, or vnreuēgefulnes, as he of Phrygia, but (as I may terme it) of a wanton crueltie: in constant of his choise of friends, or rather neuer hauing a friēd, but a playfellow; of whom when he was wearie, he could not otherwise rid himself, thē by killing thē: giuing somtimes prodigally, not because he loued them to whom he gaue, but because he lusted to giue: punishing, not so much for hate or an­ger, as because he felt not the smart of punishment: de­lighted to be flattered, at first for those vertues which were not in him, at length making his vices vertues worthy the flattering: with like iudgement glorying, when he had happened to do a thing well, as when he had performed some notable mischiefe.

argument key no. 3 He chaūced at that time (for indeed long time none lasted with him) to haue next in vse about him, a mā of the most enuious dispositiō, that (I think) euer infected the aire with his breath: whose eies could not looke right vpon any happie mā, nor eares beare the burthen of any bodies praise: cōtrary to the natures of al other plagues, plagued with others well being; making happines the ground of his vnhappinesse, & good newes the argumēt of his sorrow: in sum, a man whose fauour no man could winne, but by being miserable.

argument key no. 4 And so, because these two faithfull seruants of theirs came in miserable sorte to that Courte, he was apte inough at first to fauour them; and the King vnder­standing of their aduenture, (wherein they had shew­ed so constant a faith vnto their Lordes) suddainly falles to take a pride in making much of them, extol­ling them with infinite prayses, and praysing him selfe in his harte, in that he praysed them. And by and by were they made great courtiers, and in the way of mi­nions, when aduauncement (the most mortall offence to enuy) stirred vp their former friend, to ouerthrow his owne worke in them; taking occasion vpon the knowledge (newly come to the court) of the late King of Phrygia destroied by their two Lordes, who hauing bene a neere kinsman to this Prince of Pontus, by this enuious Coūcellour, partly with suspition of practise, partly with glory of in-part reuēging his cousins death, the King was suddainly turned, (and euery turne with him was a downe-fall) to locke them vp in prison, as seruaunts to his enimies, whom before he had neuer knowne, nor (til that time one of his own subiects had entertained and dealt for them) did euer take heed of.[Page 140] But now earnest in euery present humour, and making himselfe braue in his liking, he was content to giue them iust cause of offence, when they had power to make iust reuenge. Yet did the Princes send vnto him before they entred into war, desiring their seruants li­berty. But he swelling in their hūblenes, (like a bubble swollen vp with a small breath, broken with a great) forgetting, or neuer knowing humanitie, caused their heads to be striken off, by the aduice of his enuious Councellor (who now hated them so much the more, as he foresaw the happines in hauing such, and so for­tunate masters) and sent them with vnroyall reproches to Musidorus and Pyrocles, as if they had done traiterous­ly, and not heroically in killing his tyrannicall Cosen.

But that iniurie went beyond al degree of reconcile­ment; argument key no. 5 so that they making forces in Phrygia (a king­dome wholy at their commandement, by the loue of the people, and gratefulnesse of the King) they entred his country; and wholy conquering it (with such deeds as at lest Fame said were excellent) tooke the King; and by Musidorus commaundement (Pyrocles hart more en­clined to pitie) he was slaine vpon the tombe of their two true Seruants; which they caused to be made for them with royall expences, and notable workmanship to preserue their deade liues. For his wicked Seruant he should haue felt the like, or worse, but that his harte brake euen to death with the beholding the ho­nour done to the deade carcasses? There might Py­rocles quietly haue enioyed that crowne, by all the desire of that people, most of whom had reuolted vnto him: but he, finding a sister of the late Kings (a faire and well esteemed Ladie) looking for no­thing[Page] more, then to be oppressed with her brothers ruines, gaue her in marriage to the noble man his fa­thers old friend, and endowed them with the crowne of that kingdome. And not content with those pub­like actions, of princely, and (as it were) gouerning vertue, they did (in that kingdome and some other neere about) diuers acts of particular trials, more fa­mous, because more perilous. For in that time those regions were full both of cruell monsters, & monstrous men: all which in short time by priuate combats they deliuered the countries of.

argument key no. 6 Among the rest, two brothers of huge both great­nesse & force, therefore commonly called giants, who kept thēselues in a castle seated vpon the top of a rocke, impregnable, because there was no comming vnto it, but by one narrow path, where one mans force was a­ble to keepe downe an armie. These brothers had a while serued the King of Pontus, and in all his affaires (especially of war, wherunto they were onely apt) they had shewed, as vncōquered courage, so a rude faithful­nes: being men indeed by nature apter to the faults of rage, then of deceipt; not greatly ambitious, more then to be well and vprightly dealt with; rather impatient of iniury, then delighted with more then ordinary curte­sies; and in iniuries more sensible of smart or losse, then of reproch or disgrace. These men being of this nature (and certainely Iewels to a wise man, considering what indeed wonders they were able to performe) yet were discarded by that vnworthy Prince, after many notable deserts, as not worthy the holding. Which was the more euident to them; because it sodainly fell from an excesse offauor, which (many examples hauing taught[Page 141] them) neuer stopt his race till it came to an headlong ouerthrow: they full of rage, retyred themselues vnto this castle. Where thinking nothing iuster thē reuenge, nor more noble then the effects of anger, that (accor­ding to the nature) ful of inward brauery and fiercenes, scarcely in the glasse of Reason, thinking it self faire, but when it is terrible, they immediately gaue themselues to make all the countrie about them (subiect to that King) to smart for their Lords folly: not caring how innocent they were, but rather thinking the more in­nocent they were, the more it testified their spite, which they desired to manifest. And with vse of euill, growing more and more euill, they tooke delight in slaughter, and pleasing themselues in making others wracke the effect of their power: so that where in the time that they obeyed a master, their anger was a ser­uiceable power of the minde to doo publike good; so now vnbridled, and blinde iudge of it selfe, it made wickednesse violent, and praised it selfe in excellencie of mischiefe; almost to the ruine of the countrie, not greatly regarded by their carelesse and louelesse king. Till now these Princes finding them so fleshed in cruel­tie, as not to be reclaimed, secreatly vndertooke the matter alone: for accompanied they would not haue suffered them to haue mounted; and so those great fellowes scornefully receiuing them, as foolish birds falne into their net, it pleased the eternall iustice to make thē suffer death by their hands: So as they were manifold­ly acknowledged the sauers of that countrie.

argument key no. 7 It were the part of a verie idle Orator to set forth the numbers of wel-deuised honors done vnto them: But as high honor is not onely gotten and borne by paine,[Page] and daunger, but must be nurst by the like, or els va­nisheth as soone as it appeares to the world: so the na­turall hunger thereof (which was in Pyrocles) suffered him not to account a resting seate of that, which euer either riseth, or falleth, but still to make one action be­get another; whereby his doings might send his praise to others mouthes to rebound againe true content­ment to his spirite. And therefore hauing well establi­shed those kingdomes, vnder good gouernours, and rid them by their valure of such giants and monsters, as before time armies were not able to subdue, they determined in vnknowne order to see more of the world, & to imploy those gifts esteemed rare in them, to the good of mankinde; and therefore would them­selues (vnderstanding that the King Euarchus was pas­sed all the cumber of his warres) goe priuately to seeke exercises of their vertue; thinking it not so worthy, to be brought to heroycall effects by fortune, or necessitie (like Vlysses and Aeneas) as by ones owne choice, and working. And so went they away from verie vnwilling people to leaue them, making time haste it selfe to be a circumstance of their honour, and one place witnesse to another of the truth of their doings. For scarcely were they out of the cōfines of Pontus, but that as they ridde alone armed, (for alone they went, one seruing the other) they mette an aduenture; which though not so notable for any great effect they perfourmed, yet worthy to be remembred for the vn-vsed examples therein, as well of true natural goodnes, as of wretched vngratefulnesse.

CHAP. 10.

1 The pitifull state, and storie of the Paphalgonian vnkinde King, and his kind sonne, 2 first related by the son, 3 then by the blind father. 4 The three Princes assaulted by Plexirtus and his traine: 5 assisted by their King of Pontus and his troupes. 6 Plexirtus succoured and saued by two brothers, that vertuously loued a most vicious man. 7 Beseeged by the new King, 8 he submitteth, & is pardoned. 9 The two Princes depart to aide the Queene of Lycia.

argument key no. 1 It was in the kingdome of Galacia,the season being (as in the depth of winter) very cold, and as then sodainely growne to so extreame and foule a storme, that neuer any winter (I thinke) brought foorth a fowler child: so that the Princes were euen compelled by the haile, that the pride of the winde blew into their faces, to seeke some shrowding place within a certaine hollow rocke offering it vnto them, they made it their shield a­gainst the tempests furie. And so staying there, till the violence there of was passed, they heard the speach of a couple, who not perceiuing them (being hidde within that rude canapy) helde a straunge and pitifull disputa­tion which made them steppe out; yet in such sort, as they might see vnseene. There they perceaued an a­ged man, and a young, scarcely come to the age of a man, both poorely arayed, extreamely weather-bea­ten; the olde man blinde, the young man leading him: and yet through all those miseries, in both these[Page] seemed to appeare a kind of noblenesse, not sutable to that affliction. But the firstwords they heard, were these of the old man. Well Leonatus (said he) since I cannot perswade thee to lead me to that which should end my griefe, & thy trouble, let me now entreat thee to leaue me: feare not, my miserie cannot be greater then it is, & nothing doth become me but miserie; feare not the danger of my blind steps, I cannot fall worse then I am. And doo not I pray thee, doo not obstinately continue to infect thee with my wretchednes. But flie, flie from this region, onely worthy of me. Deare father (answe­red he) doo not take away from me the onely remnant of my happinesse: while I haue power to doo you seruice, I am not wholly miserable. Ah my sonne (said he, and with that he groned, as if sorrow straue to breake his harte,) how euill fits it me to haue such a sonne, and how much doth thy kindnesse vpbraide my wickednesse? These dolefull speeches, and some others to like purpose (well shewing they had not bene borne to the fortune they were in,) moued the Princes to goe out vnto them, and aske the younger what they were? Sirs (answered he, with a good grace, and made the more agreable by a certaine noble kinde of pitiousnes) I see well you are straungers, that know not our miserie so well here knowne, that no man dare know, but that we must be miserable. In deede our state is such, as though nothing is so needfull vnto vs as pittie, yet no­thing is more daungerous vnto vs, then to make ourselues so knowne as may stirre pittie. But your presence promiseth, that cruelty shall not ouer-runne hate. And if it did, in truth our state is soncke below the degree of feare.

argument key no. 2 This old man (whom I leade) was lately rightfull Prince of this countrie of Paphlagonia, by the hard-har­ted vngratefulnes of a sonne of his, depriued, not one­ly of his kingdome (where of no forraine forces were euer able to spoyle him) but of his sight, the riches which Nature graūts to the poorest creatures. Where­by, & by other his vnnaturall dealings, he hath bin dri­uen to such griefe, as euen now he would haue had me to haue led him to the toppe of this rocke, thēce to cast himselfe headlong to death: and so would haue made me (who receiued my life of him) to be the worker of his destruction. But noble Gentlemen (said he) if ei­ther of you haue a father, and feele what duetifull affe­ction is engraffed in a sonnes hart, let me intreate you to conuey this afflicted Prince to some place of rest & securitie. Amongst your worthie actes it shall be none of the least, that a King, of such might and fame, and so vniustly oppressed, is in any sort by you relieued.

argument key no. 3 But before they could make him answere, his father began to speake, Ah my sonne (said he) how euill an Historian are you, that leaue out the chiefe knotte of all the discourse? my wickednes, my wickednes. And if thou doest it to spare my eares, (the onely sense nowe left me proper for knowledge) assure thy selfe thou dost mistake me. And I take witnesse of that Sunne which you see (with that he cast vp his blinde eyes, as if he would hunt for light,) and wish my selfe in worse case then I do wish my selfe, which is as euill as may be, if I speake vntruely; that nothing is so welcome to my thoughts, as the publishing of my shame. Therefore know you Gentlemen (to whom from my harte I wish that it may not proue ominous foretokē of misfortune[Page] to haue mette with such a miser as I am) that whatsoe­uer my sonne (ô God, that trueth binds me to reproch him with the name of my sonne) hath said, is true. But besides those truthes, this also is true, that hauing had in lawful mariage, of a mother fitte to beare royall chil­dren, this sonne (such one as partly you see, and better shall knowe by my shorte declaration) and so enioyed the expectations in the world of him, till he was growē to iustifie their expectations (so as I needed enuie no father for the chiefe comfort of mortalitie, to leaue an other ones-selfe after me) I was caried by a bastarde sonne of mine (if at least I be bounde to beleeue the words of that base woman my concubine, his mother) first to mislike, then to hate, lastly to destroy, to doo my best to destroy, this sonne (I thinke you thinke) vnde­seruing destruction. What waies he vsed to bring me to it, if I should tell you, I should tediously trouble you with as much poysonous hypocrisie, desperate fraude, smoothe malice, hidden ambition, & smiling enuie, as in any liuing person could be harbored. But I list it not, no remembrance, (no, of naughtines) delights me, but mine own; & me thinks, the accusing his traines might in some manner excuse my fault, which certainly I loth to doo. But the conclusion is, that I gaue order to some seruants of mine, whom I thought as apte for such cha­rities as my selfe, to leade him out into a forrest, & there to kill him.

But those theeues (better natured to my sonne then my selfe) spared his life, letting him goe, to learne to liue poorely: which he did, giuing himselfe to be a priuate souldier, in a countrie here by. But as he was redy to be greatly aduaunced for some noble pee­ces[Page 144] of seruice which he did, he hearde newes of me: who (dronke in my affection to that vnlawfull and vn­naturall sonne of mine) suffered my self so to be gouer­ned by him, that all fauors and punishments passed by him, all offices, and places of importance, distributed to his fauourites; so that ere I was aware, I had left my self nothing but the name of a King: which he shortly wea­rie of too, with many indignities (if any thing may be called an indignity, which was laid vpon me) threw me out of my feat, and put out my eies; and then (proud in his tyrannie) let me goe, nether imprisoning, nor killing me: but rather delighting to make me feele my miserie; miserie indeed, if euer there were any; full of wretched­nes, fuller of disgrace, and fullest of guiltines. And as he came to the crowne by so vniust meanes, as vniustlie he kept it, by force of stranger souldiers in Cittadels, the nestes of tyranny, & murderers of libertie; disarming all his own countrimen, that no man durst shew himself a wel-willer of mine: to say the trueth (I think) few of thē being so (considering my cruell follie to my good sonne, and foolish kindnes to my vnkinde bastard:) but if there were any who fell to pitie of so great a fall, and had yet any sparkes of vnstained duety lefte in them to­wardes me, yet durst they not shewe it, scarcely with giuing me almes at their doores; which yet was the onelie sustenaunce of my distressed life, no bodie daring to shewe so much charitie, as to lende me a hande to guide my darke steppes: Till this sonne of mine (God knowes, woorthie of a more vertu­ous, and more fortunate father) forgetting my ab­hominable wrongs, not recking danger, & neglecting the present good way he was in doing himselfe good,[Page] came hether to doo this kind office you see him performe towards me, to my vnspeakable griefe; not onely because his kindnes is a glasse euē to my blind eyes, of my naughtines, but that aboue all griefes, it greeues me he should desperatly aduenture the losse of his souldeseruing life for mine, that yet owe more to fortune for my deserts, as if he would cary mudde in a chest of christall. For well I know, he that now raigneth, how much soeuer (and with good reason) he despiseth me, of all men despised; yet he will not let slippe any aduantage to make away him, whose iust title (ennobled by courage and goodnes) may one day shake the seate of a neuer secure tyrannie. And for this cause I craued of him to leade me to the toppe of this rocke, indeede I must confesse, with meaning to free him from so Ser­pentine a companion as I am. But he finding what I purposed, onely therein since he was borne, shewed himselfe disobedient vnto me. And now Gentlemen, you haue the true storie, which I pray you publish to the world, that my mischieuous proceedinges may be the glorie of his filiall pietie, the onely reward now left for so great a merite. And if it may be, let me obtaine that of you, which my sonne denies me: for neuer was there more pity in sauing any, then in ending me; both because therein my agonies shall ende, and so shall you preserue this excellent young man, who els wilfully fo­lowes his owne ruine.

argument key no. 4 The matter in it self lamentable, lamentably expres­sed by the old Prince (which needed not take to him­selfe the gestures of pitie, since his face could not put of the markes thereof) greatly moued the two Princes to compassion, which could not stay in such harts as theirs[Page 145] without seeking remedie. But by and by the occasion was presented: for Plexirtus (so was the bastard called) came thether with fortie horse, onely of purpose to murder this brother; of whose comming he had soone aduertisement, and thought no eyes of sufficient cre­dite in such a matter, but his owne; and therefore came him selfe to be actor, and spectator. And as soone as he came, not regarding the weake (as he thought) garde of but two men, commaunded some of his followers to set their handes to his, in the killing of Leonatus. But the young Prince (though not otherwise armed but with a sworde) how safely soeuer he was dealt with by others, would not betray him selfe: but braue­ly drawing it out, made the death of the first that as­saulted him, warne his fellowes to come more wari­ly after him. But then Pyrocles and Musidorus were quickly become parties (so iust a defence deseruing as much as old friendship) and so did behaue them a­mong that cōpanie (more iniurious, then valiant) that many of them lost their liues for their wicked maister.

argument key no. 5 Yet perhaps had the number of them at last preuai­led, if the King of Pontus (lately by them made so) had not come vnlooked for to their succour. Who (hauing had a dreame which had fixt his imagination vehe­mently vpon some great daunger, presently to follow those two Princes whom he most deerely loued) was come in all hast, following as well as he could their tracke with a hundreth horses in that countrie, which he thought (considering who then raigned) a fit place inough to make the stage of any Tragedie.

argument key no. 6 But then the match had ben so ill made for Plexirtus, that his ill-led life, & worse gotten honou should haue[Page] tumbled together to destructiō; had there not come in Tydeus & Telenor, with fortie or fiftie in their suit, to the defence of Plexirtus. These two were brothers, of the noblest house of that country, brought vp frō their in­fancie with Plexirtus: men of such prowesse, as not to know feare in themselues, and yet to teach it others that should deale with them: for they had often made their liues triumph ouer most terrible daungers; neuer dismayed, and euer fortunate; and truely no more set­led in their valure, then disposed to goodnesse and iu­stice, if either they had lighted on a better friend, or could haue learned to make friendship a child, and not the father of Vertue. But bringing vp (rather then choise) hauing first knit their minds vnto him, (indeed crastie inough, eyther to hide his faultes, or neuer to shew them, but when they might pay home) they wil­lingly held out the course, rather to satisfie him, then al the world; and rather to be good friendes, then good men: so as though they did not like the euill he did, yet they liked him that did the euill; and though not councellors of the offence, yet protectors of the offen­der. Now they hauing heard of this sodaine going out, with so small a company, in a country full of euil­wishing minds toward him (though they knew not the cause) followed him; till they found him in such case as they were to venture their liues, or else he to loose his: which they did with such force of minde and bodie, that truly I may iustly say, Pyrocles & Musidorus had ne­uer till then found any, that could make them so well repeate their hardest lesson in the feates of armes. And briefly so they did, that if they ouercame not; yet were they not ouercome, but caried away that vngratefull[Page 146] maister of theirs to a place of securitie; howsoeuer the Princes laboured to the cōtray. But this matter being thus far begun, it became not the constācie of the Prin­ces so to leaue it; but in all hast making forces both in Pontus and Phrygia, they had in fewe dayes, leste him but only that one strong place where he was. For feare hauing bene the onely knot that had fastned his peo­ple vnto him, that once vntied by a greater force, they all scattered from him; like so many birdes, whose cage had bene broken.

argument key no. 7 In which season the blind King (hauing in the chiefcittie of his Realme, set the crowne vpō his sonne Leo­natus head) with many teares (both of ioy and sorrow) setting forth to the whole people, his owne fault & his sonnes vertue, after he had kist him, and forst his sonne to accept honour of him (as of his newe-become sub­iect) cuē in a moment died, as it should seeme: his hart broken with vnkindnes & affliction, stretched so farre beyond his limits with this excesse of cōfort, as it was able no longer to keep safe his roial spirits. But the new King (hauing no lesse louingly performed all duties to him dead, then aliue) pursued on the siege of his vnna­tural brother, asmuch for the reuenge of his father, as for the establishing of his owne quiet. In which siege truly I cannot but acknowledge the prowesse of those two brothers, then whom the Princes neuer found in all their trauell two men of greater habilitie to per­forme, nor of habler skill for conduct.

argument key no. 8 But Plexirtus finding, that if nothing els, famin would at last bring him to destructiō, thought better by hūbl­enes to creepe, where by pride he could not march. For certainely so had nature formed him, & the exercise of[Page] craft conformed him to all turnings of sleights, that though no mā had lesse goodnes in his soule then he, no man could better find the places whence arguemets might grow of goodnesse to another: though no man felt lesse pitie, no man could tel better how to stir pitie: no mā more impudēt to deny, where proofes were not manifest; no man more ready to confesse with a repen­ting māner of aggrauating his owne euil, where denial would but make the fault fowler. Now he tooke this way, that hauing gotten a pasport for one (that pretended he would put Plexirtus aliue into his hāds) to speak with the King his brother, he him selfe (though much against the minds of the valiant brothers, who rather wished to die in braue defence) with a rope about his necke, barefooted, came to offer himselfe to the discre­tion of Lconatus. Where what submission he vsed, how cunningly in making greater the faulte he made the faultines the lesse, how artificially he could set out the torments of his owne cōscience, with the burdensome comber he had found of his ambitious desires, how finely seeming to desire nothing but death, as ashamed to liue, he begd life, in the refusing it, I am not cunning inough to be able to expresse: but so fell out of it, that though at first sight Leonatus saw him with no other eie, then as the murderer of his father; & anger already be­gan to paint reuenge in many colours, ere long he had not only gotten pitie, but pardon, and if not an excuse of the fault past, yet an opinion of a future amēdment: while the poore villaines (chiefe ministers of his wickednes, now betraied by the author therof,) were deli­uered to many cruell sorts of death; he so handling it, that it rather seemed, he had rather come into the de­fence[Page 147] of an vnremediable mischiefe already cōmitted, then that they had done it at first by his consent.

In such sort the Pricnes left these recōciled brothers argument key no. 9 (Plexirtus in all his behauiour carying him in far lower degree of seruice, then the euer-noble nature of Leona­tus would suffer him) & taking likewise their leaues of their good friend the King of Pontus (who returned to enioy their benefite, both of his wife and kingdome) they priuately went thence, hauing onely with them the two valiant brothers, who would needs accōpanie them, through diuers places; they foure dooing actes more daungerous, though lesse famous, because they were but priuat chiualries: till hearing of the faire and vertuous Queene Erona of Lycia, besieged by the puis­sant King of Armenia, they bent themselues to her suc­cour, both because the weaker (& weaker as being a La­die,) & partly because they heard the King of Armenia had in his company three of the most famous men li­uing, for matters of armes, that were knowne to be in the worlde. Where of one was the Prince Plangus, (Whose name was sweetened by your breath, peerlesse Ladie, when the last daie it pleased you to mention him vnto me) the other two were two great Princes (though holding of him) Barzanes and Euardes, men of Giant-like both hugenes and force: in which two es­pecially, the trust the King had of victorie, was reposed. And of them, those two brothers Tydeus and Telenor (sufficient iudges in warlike matters) spake so high commendations, that the two yong Princes had euen a youthfull longing to haue some triall of their vertue. And therefore as soone as they were entred into Lycia they ioyned thēselues with them that faithfully serued[Page] the poore Queene, at that time besieged: and ere long animated in such sort their almost ouerthrowne harts, that they went by force to relieue the towne, though they were depriued of a great part of their strength by the parting of the two brothers, who were sent for in all hast to returne to their old friend and maister, Plex­irtus: who (willingly hood-winking themselues from seeing his faultes, and binding themselues to beleeue what he said) often abused the vertue of courage to de­fend his fowle vice of iniustice. But now they were sent for to aduance a conquest he was about; while Pyrocles and Musidorus pursued the deliuerie of the Queene Erona.

CHAP. 11.

1 Dorus his suite to Pamela interrupted by Mopsas waking. 2 The sisters going with Zelmane to wash themselues. 3 The pleasantnes of the riuer. 4 The pleasure Zelmane had in seeing them, vttered 5 in speach, 6 and song. 7 She led by a spaniel, to know, and hurte her noble riuall. 8 The parting of that fraye.

I Haue heard (said Pamela) that parte of the story of Plangus whē he pas­sed through this country: therefore you may (if you list) passe ouer that warre of Eronaes quarrell, lest if you speake too much of warre mat­ters, you should wake Mopsa, which might happily breed a great broile. argument key no. 1 He looked, and saw that Mopsa indeed fat swallowing[Page 148] of sleepe with opē mouth, making such a noise withal, as no bodie could lay the stealing of a nappe to her charge. Whereupon, willing to vse that occasion, he kneeled downe, and with humble-hartednesse, & harty earnestnes printed in his graces, Alas (said he) diuine Lady, who haue wrought such miracles in me, as to make a Prince (none of the basest) to thinke all princi­palities base, in respect of the sheephooke, which may hold him vp in your sight; vouchsafe now at last to heare in direct words my humble sute, while this dragō sleepes, that keepes the golden fruite. If in my desire I wish, or in my hopes aspire, or in my imagination faine to my selfe any thing which may be the lest spot to that heauenly vertue, which shines in all your doings; I pray the eternal powers, that the words I speak may be dead­ly poysons, while they are in my mouth, and that all my hopes, all my desires, all my imaginations, may onely worke their owne confusion. But if loue, loue of you, loue of your vertues, seeke onely that fauour of you, which becommeth that gratefulnes, which cānot mis­become your excellencie, O doo not: He would haue said further, but Pamela calling aloud Mopsa, she so dain­ly start vp, staggering, and rubbing her eies, ran first out of the doore, and then backe to them, before she knew how she went out, or why she came in againe: till at length, being fully come to her little selfe, she asked Pa­mela, why she had called her. For nothing (said Pamela) but that you might heare some tales of your seruants telling: and therefore now (said she) Dorus go on.

But as he (who found no so good sacrifice, as obe­dience)argument key no. 2 was returning to the story of himselfe, Philoclea came in, & by and by after her, Miso; so as for that time[Page] they were faine to let Dorus depart. But Pamela) deligh­ted euē to preserue in her memory, the words of so wel a beloued speaker) repeated the whole substance to her sister, till their sober dinner being come and gone, to recreate themselues something, (euen tyred with the noysomnes of Misos conuersation) they determyned to goe (while the heate of the day lasted) to bath them­selues (such being the maner of the Arcadian nymphes often to doo) in the riuer of Ladon, and take with them a Lute, meaning to delight them vnder some shadow. But they could not stir, but that Miso with her daughter Mopsa was after them: and as it lay in their way to passe by the other lodge, Zelmane out of her window espied them, and so stale downe after them: which she might the better doo because that Gynecia was sicke, and Basi­lius (that day being his birth-day) according to his ma­ner, was busie about his deuotions; and therefore she went after, hoping to finde some time to speake with Philoclea: but not a word could she beginne, but that Miso would be one of the audience; so that she was driuen to recommend thinking, speaking, and all, to her eyes, who diligently perfourmed her trust, till they came to the riuers side; which of all the riuers of Greece argument key no. 3 had the price for excellent purenesse and sweetenesse, in so much as the verie bathing in it, was accoūted ex­ceeding healthfull. It ranne vpon so fine and delicate a ground, as one could not easely iudge, whether the Riuer did more wash the grauell, or the grauel did pu­rifie the Riuer; the Riuer not running forth right, but almost continually winding, as if the lower streames would returne to their spring, or that the Riuer had a delight to play with it selfe. The banckes of either side[Page 149] seeming armes of the louing earth, that faine would embrace it; and the Riuer a wanton nymph which still would stirre from it: either side of the bancke being fringed with most beautifull trees, which resisted the sunnes dartes from ouer-much pearcing the naturall coldnes of the Riuer. There was the [...] But among the rest a goodly Cypres, who bowing her faire head ouer the water, it seemed she looked into it, and dressed her greene lockes, by that running Riuer. There the Princesses determining to bath themselues, though it was so priuiledged a place, vpon paine of death, as no bodie durst presume to come thither, yet for the more surety, they looked round about, and could see nothing but a water spaniell, who came downe the riuer, shew­ing that he hunted for a duck, & with a snuffling grace, disdaining that his smelling force coulde not as well preuaile thorow the water, as thorow the aire; & there­fore wayting with his eye, to see whether he could espie the duckes getting vp againe: but then a little be­low them failing of his purpose, he got out of the riuer, & shaking off the water (as great men do their friends, now he had no further cause to vse it) in-weeded him­selfe so, as the Ladies lost the further marking his sport­fulnesse: and inuiting Zelmane also to wash her selfe with them, and she excusing her selfe with hauing ta­ken a late cold, they began by peece-meale to take a­way the eclipsing of their apparell.

Zelmane would haue put to her helping hand, but she argument key no. 4 was taken with such a quiuering, that she thought it more wisedome to leane her selfe to a tree and looke on, while Miso and Mopsa (like a couple of foreswat[Page] melters) were getting the pure siluer of their bodies out of the vre of their garments. But as the rayments went of to receaue kisses of the ground, Zelmane enuied the happinesse of all, but of the smocke was euen iealous, and when that was taken away too, and that Philoclea remained (for her Zelmane onely marked) like a Dya­mond taken from out the rocke, or rather like the Sun getting from vnder a cloud, and shewing his naked becames to the full vew, then was the beautie too much for a patient sight, the delight too strong for a stayed conceipt: so that Zelmane could not choose but runne, to touch, embrace, and kisse her; But conscience made her come to her selfe, & leaue Philoclea, who blushing, and withall smiling, making shamefastnesse pleasant, and pleasure shamefast, tenderly moued her feete, vn­wonted to feele the naked ground, till the touch of the cold water made a prettie kinde of shrugging come o­uer her bodie, like the twinckling of the fairest among the fixed stars. But the Riuer it selfe gaue way vnto her, so that she was streight brest high; which was the dee­pest that there-about she could be: and when cold La­don had once fully imbraced them, himselfe was no more so cold to those Ladies, but as if his cold com­plexion had bene heated with loue, so seemed he to play about euery part he could touch.

argument key no. 5 Ah sweete, now sweetest Ladon (said Zelmane) why dost thou not stay thy course to haue more full tast of thy happines? But the reason is manifest, the vpper streames make such haste to haue their part of embra­cing, that the nether (though lothly) must needs giue place vnto them. O happie Ladon, within whom she is, vpon whom her beautie fals, thorow whom her eye[Page 150] perceth. O happie Ladon, which art now an vnperfect mirror of al perfection, canst thou euer forget the bles­sednes of this impression? if thou do, then let thy bed be turned from fine grauel, to weeds & mudde; if thou doo, let some vniust niggards make weres to spoile thy beauty; if thou do, let some greater riuer fal into thee, to take away the name of Ladon. Oh Ladon, happie Ladon, rather slide then run by her, lest thou shouldest make her legs slippe from her; and then, O happy Ladon, who would then cal thee, but the most cursed Ladon? But as the Ladies plaid them in the water, somtimes striking it with their hands, the water (making lines in his face) seemed to smile at such beating, and with twentie bub­bles, not to be content to haue the picture of their face in large vpon him, but he would in ech of those bub­bles set forth the miniature of them.

But Zelmane, whose sight was gaine-said by nothing argument key no. 6 but the transparent vaile of Ladon, (like a chamber where a great fire is kept, though the fire be at one stay, yet with the continuance continually hath his heate encreased) had the coales of her affection so kindled with wonder, and blowne with delight, that nowe all her parts grudged, that her eyes should doo more ho­mage, then they, to the Princesse of them. In somuch that taking vp the Late, her wit began to be with a di­uine furie inspired; her voice would in so beloued an occasion second her wit; her hands accorded the Lutes musicke to the voice; her panting hart daunced to the musicke; while I thinke her feete did beate the time; while her bodie was the roome where it should be celebrated; her foule the Queene which shoulde be delighted. And so togither went the vtterance and[Page] the inuention, that one might iudge, it was Philocleas beautie which did speedily write it in her eyes; or the sense there of, which did word by word endite it in her minde, whereto she (but as an organ) did onely lend vtterance. The song was to this purpose.

What toong can her perfections tell
In whose each part all pens may dwell?
Her haire fine threeds of finest gould
In curled knots mans thought to hold:
But that her fore-head sayes in me
A whiter beautie you may see.
Whiter indeed; more white then snow,
Which on cold winters face doth grow.
That doth present those euen browes,
Whose equall line their angles bowes,
Like to the Moone when after chaunge
Her horned head abroad doth raunge:
And arches be to heauenly lids,
Whose winke ech bold attempt forbids.
For the blacke starres those Spheares containe,
The matchlesse paire, euen praise doth staine.
No lampe, whose light by Art is got,
No Sunne, which shines, and seeth not,
Can liken them without all pcere,
Saue one as much as other cleere:
Which onely thus vnhappie be,
Because themselues they cannot see.
Her cheekes with kindly claret spred.
Aurora like new out of bed,
Or like the fresh Queene-apples side,
Blushing at sight of Phoebus pride.
Her nose, her chinne pure inorie weares:
No purer then the pretie eares.
So that therein appeares some blood,
Like wine and milke that mingled stood.
In whose Incirclets if ye gaze,
Your eyes may tread a Louers maze.
But with such turnes the voice to stray,
No talke vntaught can finde the way.
The tippe no iewell needes to weare:
The tippe is iewell of the eare.
But who those ruddie lippes can misse?
Which blessed still themselues doo kisse.
Rubies, Cherries, and Roses new,
In worth, in taste, in perfitte hewe:
Which neuer part but that they showe
Of pretious pearle the double rowe,
The second sweetly-fenced warde,
Her heau'nly-dewed tongue to garde.
Whence neuer word in vaine did flowe.
Faire vnder these doth stately growe,
The handle of this pretious worke,
The neck, in which strange graces lurke.
Such be I thinke the sumptuous towers
Which skill dooth make in Princes bowers.
So good a say inuites the eye,
A little downward to espie,
The liuelie clusters of her brests,
Of Venus babe the wanton nests:
Like pomels round of Marble cleere:
Where azurde veines well mixt appeere.
With dearest tops of porphyrie.
Betwixt these two a way doth lie,
A way more worthie beauties fame,
Then that which beares the Milkie name.
This leades into the ioyous field,
Which onely still doth Lillies yeeld:
But Lillies such whose natiue smell
The Indian odours doth excell.
Waste it is calde, for it doth waste
Mens liues, vntill it be imbraste.
There may one see, and yet not see
Her ribbes in white all armed be.
More white then Neptunes fomie face,
When strugling rocks he would imbrace.
In those delights the wandring thought
Might of each side astray be brought,
But that her nauel doth vnite,
In curious circle, busie sight:
A daintie seale of virgin-waxe,
Where nothing but impression lackes.
Her bellie then gladde sight doth fill,
Iustly entitled Cupids hill.
A hill most fitte for such a master,
A spotlesse mine of Alablaster.
Like Alablaster faire and sleeke,
But soft and supple fatten like.
In that sweete feate the Boy doth sport:
Loath, I must leaue his chiefe resort.
For such a vse the world hath gotten,
The best things still must be forgotten.
Yet neuer shall my song omitte
Thighes, for Ouids song more fitte;
Which stanked with two sugred flankes,
Lift vp their stately swelling bankes;
That Albion cliues in whitenes passe:
With hanches smooth as looking glasse.
But how all knees, now of her knees
My tongue doth tell what fancie fees.
The knottes of ioy, the gemmes of loue,
Whose motion makes all graces moue.
Whose bought incau'd doth yeeld such sight,
Like cunning Painter shadowing white.
The gartring place with child-like signe,
Shewes easie print in mettall fine.
But then againe the flesh doth rise
In her braue calues, like christall skies.
Whose Atlas is a smallest small,
More white then whitest bone of all.
Thereout steales out that round cleane foote
This noble Cedars pretious roote:
In shewe and sent pale violets,
Whose steppe on earth all beautie sets.
But back vnto her back, my Muse,
Where Ledas swanne his feathers mewes,
Along whose ridge such bones are met,
Like comfits round in marchpane set.
Her shoulders be like two white Doues,
Pearching within square royall rooues,
Which leaded are with siluer skinne,
Passing the hate-sport Ermelin.
And thence those armes deriued are;
The Phoenix wings are not so rare
For faultlesse length, and stainelesse hewe,
Ah woe is me, my woes renewe;
Now course doth leade me to her hand,
Of my first loue the fatall band.
Where whitenes dooth for euer sitte:
Nature her selfe enameld it.
For there with strange compact dooth lie
Warme snow, moyst pearle, softe iuorie.
There fall those Saphir-coloured brookes,
Which conduit-like with curious crookes,
Sweete Ilands make in that sweete land.
As for the singers of the hand,
The bloudy shaftes of Cupids warre,
With amatists they headed are.
Thus hath each part his beauties part,
But how the Graces doo impart
To all her limmes a spctiall grace,
Becomming euery time and place.
Which doth euen beautie beautifie,
And most bewitch the wretched eye.
How all this is but a faire Inne
Of fairer guestes, which dwell within.
Of whose high praise, and praisefull blisse,
Goodnes the penne, heauen paper is.
The inke immortall same dooth lende:
As I began, so must I ende.
No tongue can her perfections tell,
In whose each part all tongues may dwell

But as Zelmane was cōming to the latter end of her song, she might see the same water-spaniell which be­fore had hūted, come and fetch away one of Philocleas gloues; whose fine proportion, shewed well what a daintie guest was wont there to be lodged. It was a de­light to Zelmane, to see that the dogge was therewith delighted, and so let him goe a little way withall, who[Page 153] quickly caried it out of sight among certaine trees and bushes, which were very close together. But by & by he came againe, & amongst the raiments (Miso and Mopsa being preparing sheets against their comming out) the dog lighted vpon a little booke of foure or fiue leaues of paper, & was bearing that away to. But then Zelmane (not knowing what importāce it might be of) ran after the dog, who going streight to those bushes, she might see the dog deliuer it to a Gentleman who secretly lay there. But she hastily cōming in, the Gētleman rose vp, & with a courteous (though sad) countenance presen­ted himselfe vnto her. Zelmanes eies streight willed her mind to marke him: for she thought, in her life she had neuer seene a mā of a more goodly presence, in whom strong making tooke not away delicacie, nor beautie fiercenesse: being indeed such a right man like man, as Nature often erring, yet shewes she would faine make. But when she had a while (not without admiration) vewed him, she desired him to deliuer backe the gloue & paper, because they were the Ladie Philocleas; telling him withall, that she would not willingly let thē know of his close lying in that prohibited place, while they were bathing thēselues; because she knew they would be mortally offended withall. Faire Ladie (answered he) the worst of the complaint is already passed, since I feele of my fault in my self the punishmēt. But for these things I assure you, it was my dogs wanton boldnesse, not my presumption. With that he gaue her backe the paper: But for the gloue (said he) since it is my Ladie Philocleas, giue me leaue to keepe it, since my hart cānot persuade it selfe to part from it. And I pray you tell the Lady (Lady indeed of all my desires) that owes it, that[Page] I will direct my life to honour this gloue with seruing her. O villain (cried out Zelmane, madded with finding an vnlooked-for Riuall, and that he would make her a messenger) dispatch (said she) and deliuer it, or by the life of her that owes it, I wil make thy soul (though too base a price) pay for it. And with that drewe out her sworde, which (Amazon-like) she euer ware about her. The Gentlemā retired himself into an open place frō a­mong the bushes; & thē drawing out his too, he offred to deliuer it vnto her, saying withall, God forbid I should vse my sworde against you, since (if I be not de­ceiued) you are the same famous Amazon, that both de­fended my Ladies iust title of beautie against the vali­ant Phalantus, & saued her life in killing the Lion; ther­fore I am rather to kisse your hands, with acknowled­ging my selfe boūd to obey you. But this courtesie was worse then a bastonado to Zelmane: so that againe with ragefull eyes she bad him defend himselfe, for no lesse then his life should answere it. A hard case (said he) to teach my sworde that lesson, which hath euer vsed to turne it self to a shield in a Ladies presence. But Zelmane harkening to no more wordes, began with such wittie furie to pursue him with blowes & thrusts, that Nature & Vertue commanded the Gentleman to looke to his safetie. Yet stil courtesie, that seemed incorporate in his hart, would not be perswaded by daunger to offer any offence, but only to stand vpon the best defensiue gard he could; somtimes going backe, being content in that respect to take on the figure of cowardise; sometime with strong and well-met wards; sometime cunning a­uoidings of his body; and sometimes faining some blowes, which himself puld backe before they needed[Page 154] to be with stood. And so with play did he a good while fight against the fight of Zelmane, who (more spited with that curtesie, that one that did nothing should be able to resist her) burned away with choller any moti­ons, which might grow out of her owne sweet disposi­tiō, determining to kill him if he fought no better; & so redoubling her blowes, draue the stranger to no other shift, then to warde, and go backe; at that time seeming the image of innocencie against violence. But at length he found, that both in publike and priuate respectes, who standes onely vpon defence, stands vpon no de­fence: For Zelmane seeming to strike at his head, and he going to warde it, withall stept backe as he was ac­customed, she stopt her blow in the aire, and suddenly turning the point, ranne full at his breast; so as he was driuen with the pommell of his sworde (hauing no o­ther weapon of defence) to beate it downe: but the thrust was so strong, that he could not so wholy beate it awaie, but that it met with his thigh, thorow which it ranne. But Zelmane retiring her sworde, and seeing his bloud, victorious anger was conquered by the be­fore-conquered pittie; and hartily sorie, and euen asha­med with her selfe she was, considering how little he had done, who well she found could haue done more. In so much that she said, truly I am forie for your hurt, but your selfe gaue the cause, both in refusing to de­liuer the gloue, and yet not fighting as I knowe you could haue done. But (said shee) because I per­ceaue you disdayne to fight with a woman, it may be before a yeare come about, you shall meete with a neere kinsman of mine, Pyrocles Prince of Macedon, and I giue you my worde, he for me shall maintaine[Page] this quarell against you. I would (answered Amphialus) I had many more such hurtes to meete and know that worthy Prince, whose vertue I loue & admire, though my good destiny hath not bene to see his person.

argument key no. 8 But as they were so speaking, the yong Ladies came, to whō Mopsa (curious in any thing, but her own good behauiour) hauing followed & seene Zelmane fighting, had cried, what she had seene, while they were drying themselues, & the water (with some drops) seemed to weepe, that it should parte from such bodies. But they carefull of Zelmane (assuring themselues that any Arcadian would beare reuerence to them) Pamela with a noble mind, and Philoclea with a louing (hastily hiding the beauties, where of Nature was prowde, and they ashamed) they made quicke worke to come to saue Zelmane. But already they found them in talke, & Zelmane careful of his wound. But whē they saw him they knew it was their cousin germain, the famous Amphialus; whom yet with a sweete-graced bitternes they bla­med for breaking their fathers commaundement, espe­cially while themselues were in such sort retired. But he craued pardon, protesting vnto them that he had onely bene to seeke solitary places, by an extreme me­lancholy that had a good while possest him, and gui­ded to that place by his spaniell, where while the dog hunted in the riuer, he had with drawne himselfe to pa­cifie with sleepe his ouer-watched eyes: till a dreame waked him, and made him see that where of he had dreamed, & withall not obscurely signified that he felt the smart of his owne doings. But Philoclea (that was euen iealous of her self for Zelmane) would needs haue her gloue, and not without so mighty a loure as that[Page 155] face could yeeld. As for Zelmane when she knew, it was Amphialus, Lord Amphialus (said she) I haue lōg desired to know you, heretofore I must confesse with more good will, but still with honoring your vertue, though I loue not your person: & at this time I pray you let vs take care of your wound, vpon cōdition you shal here­after promise, that a more knightly combat shalbe per­formed betweenevs. Amphialus answered in honora­ble, sort, but with such excusing himselfe, that more and more accused his loue to Philoclea, & prouoked more hate in Zelmane. But Mopsa had already called certaine shepheards not far of (who knew & wel obserued their limits) to come and helpe to carrie away Amphialus, whose wound suffered him not without daunger to straine it: and so he leauing himselfe with them, depar­ted from them, faster bleeding in his hart, then at his wound: which bound vp by the sheetes, wherwith Phi­loclea had bene wrapped, made him thanke the wound, and blesse the sword for that fauour. argument key no. 7

CHAP. 12.

1 How Basilius found Plangus: 2 his lamētation. 3 Philoclea entreated by Zelmane to relate the storie of Erona.

He being gone, the Ladies (with me­ry anger argument key no. 1 talking, in what naked simplicitie their cousin had seene thē) returned to the lodge-warde: yet thinking it too early (as long as they had any day) to breake of so pleasing a company, with going to performe a cūbersome obediēnce,[Page] Zelmane inuited them to the little arbour, only reserued for her, which they willingly did: and there sitting, Pa­mela hauing a while made the lute in his lāguage, shew how glad it was to be touched by her fingers, Zelmane deliuered vp the paper, which Amphialus had at first yeelded vnto her: and seeing written vpon the back­side of it, the complaint of Plangus, remembring what Dorus had told her, and desiring to know how much Philoclea knew of her estate, she tooke occasion in the presenting of it, to aske whether it were any secret, or no. No truely (answered Philoclea) it is but euen an exercise of my fathers writing, vpon this occasion: He was one day (somwhile before your comming hether) walking abroade, hauing vs two with him, almost a mile hence; and crossing a hie way, which comes from the cittie of Megalopolis, he saw this Gentleman, whose name is there written, one of the proprest and best-gra­ced men that euer I sawe, being of middle age, and of a meane stature. He lay as then vnder a tree, while his seruaunts were getting fresh post-horses for him. It might seeme he was tired with the extreme trauaile he had taken, and yet not so tyred, that he forced to take any rest; so hasty he was vpon his iourney: and with­all so sorrowfull, that the very face thereof was pain­ted in his face; which with pitifull motions, euen groanes, teares, and passionate talking to him selfe, moued my Father to fall in talke with him: who at first not knowing him, answered him in such a despe­rate phrase of griefe, that my Father afterward tooke a delight to set it downe in such forme as you see: which if you read, what you doubt of, my sister and I are hable to declare vnto you. Zelmane willingly opened[Page 156] the leaues, and read it, being written Dialogue-wise in this manner.

Plangus. Basilius.
Plangus.
ALas how long this pilgrimage doth last?
What greater ills haue now the heauens in store,
To couple comming harmes with sorrowes past?
Long since my voice is hoarce, and throte is sore,
With cries to skies, and curses to the ground,
But more I plaine, I feele my woes the more.
Ah where was first that cruell cunning found,
To frame of Earth a vessell of the minde,
Where it should be to selfe-destruction bound?
What needed so high sprites such mansions blind?
Or wrapt in flesh what do they here obtaine,
But glorious name of wretched humaine-kind?
Balles to the starres, and thralles to Fortunes raigne;
Turnd from themselues, infected with their cage,
Where death is feard, and life is held with paine.
Like players pla'st to fill a filthy stage,
Where chaunge of thoughts one foole to other shewes,
And all but iests, saue onely sorrowes rage.
The child feeles that; the man that feeling knowes,
With cries first borne, the presage of his life,
Where wit but serues, to haue true tast of woes.
A Shop of shame, a Booke where blots be rise
This bodie is: this bodie so composed,
As in it selfe to nourish mortall strife.
So diuers be the Elements disposed
In this weake worke, that it can neuer be
Made vniforme to any state reposed.
Griefe onely makes his wretched state to see
(Euen like a toppe which nought but whipping moues)
This man, this talking beast, this walking tree.
Griefe is the stone which finest iudgement proues:
For who grieues not hath but a blockish braine,
Since cause of griefe no cause from life remoues.
Basilius.
How long wilt thou with monefull musicke staine
The cheerefull notes these pleasant places yeeld,
Where all good haps a perfect state maintaine?
Plangus.
Curst be good haps, and curst be they that build
Their hopes on haps, and do not make despaire
For all these certaine blowes the surest shield.
Shall I that saw Eronaes shining haire
Torne with her hands, and those same hands of snow
With losse of purest blood themselues to teare?
Shall I that saw those brests, where beauties flow,
Swelling with sighes, made pale with mindes disease,
And saw those eyes (those Sonnes) such shoures to shew,
Shall I, whose eares her mournefull words did seaze,
Her words in syrup laid of sweetest breath,
Relent those thoughts, which then did so displease?
No, no: Despaire my daily lesson saith,
And saith, although I seeke my life to flie,
Plangus must liue to see Eronaes death.
Plangus must liue some helpe for her to trie
Though in despaire, so Loue enforceth me;
Plangus doth liue, and must Erona dye?
Erona dye? O heauen (if heauen there be)
Hath all thy whirling course so small effect?
Serue all thy starrie eyes this shame to see?
Let doltes in haste some altars faire erect
To those high powers, which idly sit aboue,
And vertue do in greatest need neglect.
Basilius.
O man, take heed, how thou the Gods do moue
To irefull wrath, which thou canst not resist.
Blasphemous words the speaker vaine do proue.
Alas while we are wrapt in foggie mist
Of our selfe-loue (so passions do deceaue)
We thinke they hurt, when most they do assist.
To harme vs wormes should that high Iustice leaue
His nature? nay, himselfe? for so it is.
What glorie from our losse can he receaue?
But still our dazeled eyes their way do misse,
While that we do at his sweete scourge repine,
The kindly way to beate vs to our blisse.
If she must dye, then hath she past the line
Of loth some dayes, whose losse how canst thou mone,
That doost so well their miseries define?
But such we are with inward tempest blowne
Of mindes quite contrarie in waues of will:
We mone that lost, which had we did bemone.
Plangus.
And shall shee dye? shall cruell fier spill
Those beames that set so many harts on fire?
Hath she not force euen death with loue to kill?
Nay euen cold Death enflamde with hot desire
Her to enioy, where ioy it selfe is thrall,
Will spoile the earth of his most rich attire.
Thus Death becomes a riuall to vs all,
And hopes with foule embracements her to get,
In whose decay Vertues faire shrine must fall.
O vertue weake, shall death his triumph set
Vpon thy spoiles, which neuer should lye waste?
Let Death first dye; be thou his worthy let.
By what eclipse shall that Sonne be defaste?
What myne hath erst throwne downe so faire a tower?
What sacriledge hath such a saint disgra'st?
The world the garden is, she is the flower
That sweetens all the place; she is the guest
Of rarest price, both heau'n and earth her bower.
And shall (Ô me) all this in ashes rest?
Alas, if you a Phoenix new will haue
Burnt by the Sunne, she first must build her nest.
But well you know, the gentle Sunne would saue
Such beames so like his owne, which might haue might
In him, the thoughts of Phaëtons damme to graue.
Therefore, alas, you vse vile Vulcans spight,
Which nothing spares, to melt that Virgin-waxe
Which while it is, it is all Asias light.
O Mars, for what doth serue thy armed axe?
To let that wit-old beast consume in flames
Thy Venus child, whose beautie Venus lackes?
O Venus (if her praise no enuy frames,
In thy high minde) get her thy husbands grace.
Sweete speaking oft a currish hart reclaimes.
O eyes of mine, where once she saw her face,
Her face which was more liuely in my hart;
O braine, where thought of her hath onely place;
O hand, which toucht her hand when she did part;
O lippes, that kist her hand with my teares sprent;
O toonge, then dumbe, not daring tell my smart;
O soule, whose loue in her is onely spent,
What ere you see, thinke, touch, kisse, speake, or loue,
Let all for her, and vnto her be bent.
Basilius.
Thy wailing words do much my spirits moue,
They vttred are in such a feeling fashion,
That sorrowes worke against my will I proue.
Me-thinkes I am partaker of thy passion,
And in thy case do glasse mine owne debilitie:
Selfe-guiltie folke most prone to feele compassion.
Yet Reason saith, Reason should haue abilitie,
To hold these worldly things in such proportion,
As let them come or go with euen facilitie.
But our Desires tyrannicall extortion
Doth force vs there to set our chiefe delightfulnes.
Where but a baiting place is all our portion.
But still, although we faile of perfect rightfulnes,
Seeke we to tame the childish superfluities:
Let vs not winke though void of purest sightfulnes.
For what can breed more peeuish incongruities,
Then man to yeeld to female lamentations?
Let vs some grammar learne of more congruities.
Plangus.
If through mine eares pearce any consolation
By wise discourse, sweete tunes, or Poets fiction;
If ought I cease these hideous exclamations,
While that my soule, she, she liues in affliction;
Then let my life long time on earth maintained be,
To wretched me, the last worst malediction.
Can I, that know her sacred parts restrained be,
For any ioy, know fortunes vile displacing her,
In mor all rules let raging woes contained be?
Can I forget, when they in prison placing her,
With swelling hart in spite and due disdainfulnes
She lay for dead, till I helpt with vnlasing her?
Can I forget, from how much mourning plainfulnes
With Diamond in window-glasse she graued,
Erona dye, and end thy ougly painefulnes?
Can I forget in how straunge phrase she craued
That quickly they would her burne, drowne, or smother,
As if by death she onely might be saued?
Then let me eke forget one hand from other:
Let me forget that Plangus I am called:
Let me forget I am sonne to my mother,
But if my memory must thus be thralled
To that strange stroke which conquer'd all my senses,
Can thoughts still thinking so rest vnappalled?
Basilius.
Who still doth seeke against himselfe offences,
What pardon can auaile? or who employes him
To hurt himselfe, what shields can be defenses?
Woe to poore man: ech outward thing annoyes him
In diuers kinds; yet as he were not filled,
He heapes in inward griefe, which most destroyes him.
Thus is our thought with paine for thistles tilled:
Thus be our noblest parts dryed vp with sorrow:
Thus is our mind with too much minding spilled.
One day layes vp stuffe of griefe for the morrow:
And whose good haps do leaue him vnprouided,
Condoling cause of friendship he will borrow.
Betwixt the good and shade of good diuided,
We pittie deeme that which but weakenes is:
So are we from our high creation slided.
But Plangus lest I may your sicknesse misse
Or rubbing hurt the sore, I here doo end.
The asse did hurt when he did thinke to kisse.

When Zelmane had read it ouer, marueyling verie argument key no. 3 much of the speeche of Eronas death, and therefore de­sirous to know further of it, but more desirous to heare Philoclea speake, Most excellent Ladie (said she) one may be little the wiser for reading the Dialogue, since it nether sets foorth what this Plangus is, nor what Ero­na is, nor what the cause should be which threatens her with death, and him with sorow: therefore I woulde humbly craue to vnderstand the particular discourse thereof: because (I must confesse) some thing in my trauaile I haue heard of this strange matter, which I would be glad to find by so sweet an authoritie confir­med. The trueth is (answered Philoclea) that after he knew my father to be Prince of this countrie; while he hoped to preuaile something with him in a great re­quest he made vnto him, he was content to open fully vnto him the estate both of himselfe, and of that Ladie; which with my sisters help (said she) who remembers it better then I, I will declare vnto you: and first of Ero­na, (being the chiefe Subiect of this discourse) this sto­rie (with more teares and exclamations then I liste to spende about it) he recounted.

CHAP. 13.

Erona 1 irreligious gainst Loue, 2 must loue the base Antiphilus, 3 is loued, pursued, and beleaguered by the great Tiridates. 4 The two Greeke Princes ayde her. 5 They combatte with two kings; Antiphilus with Plangus; they conquerors, he prisoner. 6 Eronas hard-choice to redeeme him. 7 Tiridates slaine, Antiphilus deliuered, Artaxia chased by the two Princes, 8 and her hate to them.

argument key no. 1 OF late there raigned a King in Lycia, who had for the blessing of his mariage, this onely daughter of his, Erona; a Princesse worthie for her beautie, as much praise, as beautie may be praise-worthy. This Prin­cesse Erona, being 19. yeres of age, seeing the countrie of Lycia so much deuoted to Cupid, as that in euery place his naked pictures & images were superstitiously adored (ether moued therūto, by the esteeming that could be no Godhead, which could breed wickednes, or the shamefast consideration of such nakednes) procured so much of her father, as vtterly to pull downe, and deface all those statues and pictures. Which how terriblie he punished (for to that the Lycians impute it) quickly af­ter appeared.

argument key no. 2 For she had not liued a yeare longer, when she was striken with most obstinate Loue, to a yong man but of mean parentage, in her fathers court, named Antiphilus: so meane, as that he was but the sonne of her Nurse, & by that meanes (without other desert) became knowen of her. Now so euill could she conceale her fire, and so wilfully perseuered she in it, that her father offering her the mariage of the great Tiridates, king of Armenia (who desired her more then the ioyes of heauen) she for An­tiphilus-sake refused it. Many wayes her father sought to withdrawe her from it; sometimes perswasions, some­times threatnings; once hiding Antiphilus, & giuing her to vnderstand that he was fled the countrie: Lastly, ma­king a solemne execution to be done of another, vnder the name of Antiphilus, whom he kept in prison. But nether she liked perswasions, nor feared threateninges, nor changed for absence: and when she thought him[Page 160] dead, she sought all meanes (as well by poyson as by knife) to send her soule, at least, to be maried in the eter­nall church with him. This so brake the tender fathers hart, that (leauing things as he found them) he shortly after died. Then foorth with Erona (being seazed of the crowne, and arming her will with authoritie) sought to aduance her affection to the holy title of matrimonie.

But before she could accōplish all the solēnities, she argument key no. 3 was ouertakē with a war the King Tiridates made vpon her, only for her person; towards whom (for her ruine) Loue had kindled his cruel hart; indeed cruell & tyran­nous: for (being far too strōg in the field) he spared not man, woman, and child, but (as though there could be found no foile to set foorth the extremitie of his loue, but extremity of hatred) wrote (as it were) the sonets of his Loue, in the bloud, & tuned thē in thē cries of her subiects; although his fair sister Artaxia (who would ac­cōpany him in the army) sought all meanes to appease his fury: till lastly, he besieged Erona in her best citie, vowing to winne her, or lose his life. And now had he brought her to the point ether of a wofull consent, or a ruinous deniall; whē there came thether (following the course which Vertue & Fortune led thē) two excellent yoūg Princes, Pyrocles and Musidorus, the one Prince of Macedō, the other of Thessalia: two princes, as Plāgūs said, (and he witnessed his saying with sighes & teares) the most accnoplished both in body & mind, that the Sun euer lookt vpon. While Philoclea spake those words, O sweete wordes (thought Zelmane to her self) which are not onely a praise to me, but a praise to praise it selfe, which out of that mouth issueth.

These 2. princes (said Philoclea) aswel to help the weaker argument key no. 4 [Page] (especially being a Ladie) as to saue a Greeke people from being ruined by such, whom we call and count Barbarous, gathering together such of the honestest Lycians, as woulde venture their liues to succour their Princesse: giuing order by a secreat message they sent into the Citie, that they should issue with all force at an appointed time; they set vpon Tiridates campe, with so well-guided a fiercenes, that being of both sides assaulted, he was like to be ouerthrowen: but that this Plangus (being Generall of Tiridates hors-men) especi­ally ayded by the two mightie men, Euardes and Barzanes, rescued the foot-men, euen almost defeated: but yet could not barre the Princes (with their succoures both of men and victuall) to enter the Citie.

argument key no. 5 Which when Tiridates found would make the war long, (which length seemed to him worse then a lan­guishing consumption) he made a challenge of three Princes in his retinue, against those two Princes and Antiphilus: and that thereupon the quarrell should be decided; with compact, that neither side should helpe his felow: but of whose side the more ouercame, with him the victorie should remaine. Antiphilus (though E­rona chose rather to bide the brunt of warre, then ven­ture him, yet) could not for shame refuse the offer, espe­cially since the two strangers that had no interest in it, did willingly accept it: besides that, he sawe it like enough, that the people (werie of the miseries of war) would rather giue him vp, if they saw him shrinke, then for his sake venture their ruine: considering that the challengers were farre of greater worthinesse then him selfe. So it was agreed vpon; and against Pyrocles was Euardes, King of Bithinia; Barzanes of Hircania, against[Page 161] Musidorus, two men, that thought the world scarse able to resist them: & against Antiphilus he placed this same Plangus, being his own cousin germain, & sonne to the King of Iberia. Now so it fell out that Musidorus slewe Barzanes, & Pyrocles Euardes; which victory those Prin­ces esteemed aboue all that euer they had: but of the other side Plāgus tooke Antiphilus prisoner: vnder which colour (as if the matter had bene equal, though indeed it was not, the greater part being ouercome of his side) Tiridates continued his war: & to bring Erona to a cō ­pelled yeelding, sent her word, that he would the third morrow after, before the walles of the towne strike of Antiphilus head; without his suite in that space were graunted: adding withall (because he had heard of her desperate affectiō) that if in the meane time she did her selfe any hurt, what tortures could be deuised should belayed vpon Antiphilus.

Then lo if Cupid be a God, or that the tyranny of our argument key no. 6 own thoughts seeme as a God vnto vs. But whatsoeuer it was, then it did set foorth the miserablenes of his ef­fectes: she being drawne to two contraries by one cause. For the loue of him cōmaunded her to yeeld to no other: the loue of him cōmaunded him to preserue his life: which knot might well be cut, but vntied it could not be. So that Loue in her passions (like a right makebate) whispered to both sides arguments of quar­rell. What (said he of the one side) doost thou loue Antiphilus, Ô Erona? and shal Tiridates enioy thy bodie; with what eyes wilt thou looke vpon Antiphilus, when he shall know that another possesseth thee? But if thou wilt do it, canst thou do it? canst thou force thy hart? Thinke with thy selfe, if this man haue thee, thou shalt neūer haue more part of Antiphilus thē if he were dead.[Page] But thus much more, that the affectiō shalbe gnawing, & the remorse still present. Death perhaps will coole the rage of thy affection: where thus, thou shalt euer loue, and euer lacke. Thinke this beside, if thou marrie Tiridates, Antiphilus is so excellent a man, that long he cannot be from being in some high place maried:canst thou suffer that too? If an other kill him, he doth him the wrong: if thou abuse thy body, thou doost him the wrong. His death is a worke of nature, and either now, or at another time he shall die. But it shalbe thy worke, thy shamefull worke, which is in thy power to shun, to make him liue to see thy faith falsified, and his bed defi­led. But when Loue had well kindled that parte of her thoughts, then went he to the other side. What (said he) O Erona, and is thy Loue of Antiphilus come to that point, as thou doost now make it a question, whether he shall die, or no? O excellent affection, which for too much loue, will see his head of. Marke well the reasons of the other side, and thou shalt see, it is but loue of thy selfe which so disputeth. Thou canst not abide Tirida­tes: this is but loue of thy selfe: thou shalt be ashamed to looke vpō him afterward; this is but feare of shame, & loue of thy selfe: thou shalt want him as much then; this is but loue of thy selfe: he shalbe married; if he be well, why should that grieue thee, but for loue of thy selfe? No, no, pronounce these wordes if thou canst, let Antiphilus die. Then the images of each side stood before her vnderstanding; one time she thought she saw Antiphilus dying: an other time she thought Anti­philus faw her by Tiridates enioyed: twenty times cal­ling for a seruaunt to carry message of yeelding, but be­fore he came the minde was altered. She blusht when she considered the effect of granting; she was pale, whē [Page 162] she remēbred the fruits of denial. As for weeping, sigh­ing, wringing her hāds, & tearing her haire, were indif­ferēt of both sides. Easily she wold haue agreed to haue broken al disputatiōs with her owne death, but that the feare of Antiphilus furder torments staied her. At lēgth, euē the euening before the day apointed of his death, the determinatiō of yeelding preuailed, especially, gro­wing vpō a message of Antiphilus; who with all the con­iuring termes he could deuise, besought her to saue his life, vpon any cōdition. But she had no sooner sent her messenger to Tiridates, but her mind changed, and she went to the two yong Princes, Pyrocles & Musidorus, & falling downe at their feet, desired thē to triē some way for her deliuerance; shewing her selfe resolued, not to ouer-liue Antiphilus, nor yet to yeeld to Tiridates.

They that knew not what she had done in priuate,argument key no. 7 prepared that night accordingly: & as sometimes it fals out, that what is incōstancy, seemes cūning; so did this chāge indeed stand in as good steed as a witty diffimu­latiō. For it made the King as reckles, as them diligēt: so that in the dead time of the night, the Princes issued out of the towne; with whō she would needs go, either to die her self, or reskew Antiphilus, hauing no armour, nor weapon, but affection. And I cannot tell you how, by what deuise (though Plangus at large described it) the conclusion was, the wonderfull valour of the two Princes so preuailed, that Antiphilus was succoured, and the King slaine. Plangus was then the chiefe man left in the campe; and therefore seeing no other re­medie, cōueied in safety into her country Artaxia, now Queene of Armenia; who with truelamētations, made,argument key no. 8 known to the world, that her new greatnes did no way[Page] cōfort her in respect of her brothers losse, whō she stu­died all meanes possible to reuenge vpon euery one of the occasioners, hauing (as she thought) ouerthrowne her brother by a most abominable treason. In somuch, that being at home, she proclaimed great rewards to a­ny priuate man, and her selfe in mariage to any Prince, that would destroy Pyrocles and Musidorus. But thus was Antiphilus redeemed, and (though against the con­sent of all her nobility) married to Erona; in which case the two Greeke Princes (being called away by an o­ther aduenture) left them.

CHAP. 14.

1 Philocleas narration broken of by Miso. 2 Her old-wiues tale, 3 and ballad against Cupid. 4 Their drawing cuts for tales. 5 Mopsas tale of the old cut: 6 cut of by the Ladies to returne to their stories.

argument key no. 1 Bvt now me thinkes as I haue read some Poets, who when they intēd to tell some horrible matter, they bid men shun the hearing of it: so if I do not desire you to stop your eares frō me, yet may I well desire a breathing time, before I am to tell the execrable treason of Anti­philus, that brought her to this misery; and withall wish you al, that frō al mankind indeed you stop your eares. O most happy were we, if we did set our loues one vp­on another. (And as she spake that worde, her cheekes in red letters writ more, then her tongue did speake.) And therefore since I haue named Plangus, I pray you[Page 163] sister (said she) helpe me with the rest, for I haue helde the stage long inough; and if it please you to make his fortune knowne, as I haue done Eronas, I will after take hart againe to go on with his falshood; & so betweene vs both, my Ladie Zelmane shall vnderstand both the cause and parties of this Lamentation. Nay I beshrow me then (said Miso) I wil none of that, I promise you, as lōg as I haue the gouernmēt, I will first haue my tale, & thē my Lady Pamela, my Lady Zelmane, & my daughter Mopsa (for Mopsa was then returned frō Amphialus) may draw cuts, & the shortest cut speake first. For I tell you, and this may be suffred, when you are married you wil haue first, and last word of your husbands. The Ladies laughed to see with what an eger earnestnesse she loo­ked, hauing threatning not onely in her Ferret eies, but while she spake, her nose seeming to threaten her chin, & her shaking lims one to threaten another. But there was no remedy, they must obey: & Miso (sitting on the groūd with her knees vp, & her hands vpon her knees) tuning her voice with many a quauering cough, thus discoursed vnto thē. I tel you true (said she) whatsoeuer argument key no. 2 you thinke of me, you will one day be as I am; & I, sim­ple though I sit here, thought once my pennie as good siluer, as some of you do: and if my father had not plaid the hasty foole (it is no lie I tell you) I might haue had an other-gaines husbād, thē Dametas. But let that passe, God amend him: and yet I speake it not without good cause. You are ful of your tittle tattling of Cupid: here is argument key no. 3 Cupid, & there is Cupid. I will tell you now, what a good old womā told me, what an old wise mā told her, what a great learned clerke told him, and gaue it him in wri­ting; and here I haue it in my praier booke. I pray you[Page] (said Philoclea) let vs see it, & read it. No hast but good (said Miso) you shal first know how I came by it. I was a young girle of a seuen and twenty yeare old, & I could not go thorow the streate of our village, but I might heare the young mē talke; O the pretie little eies of Mi­so; O the fine thin lips of Miso; O the goodly fat hands of Miso: besides, how well a certaine wrying I had of my necke, became me. Then the one would wincke with one eye, & the other cast daiseys at me: I must cō ­fesse, seing so many amorous, it made me set vp my pea­cocks tayle with the hiest. Which when this good old womā perceiued (O the good wold woman, well may the bones rest of the good wold womā) she cald me to her into her house. I remember full well it stood in the lane as you go to the Barbers shop, all the towne knew her, there was a great losse of her: she called me to her, and taking first a soppe of wine to comfort her hart (it was of the same wine that comes out of Candia, which we pay so deere for now a daies, and in that good worlde was very good cheape) she cald me to her; Mi­nion said she, (indeed I was a pretie one in those daies thongh I say it) I see a nūber of lads that loue you; Wel (said she) I say no more: doo you know what Loue is? With that she brought me into a corner, where ther was painted a foule fiēd I trow: for he had a paire of hornes like a Bull, his feete clouen, as many eyes vpon his bo­die, as my gray-mare hath dappels, & for all the world so placed. This mōster fat like a hāgman vpō a paire of gallowes, in his right hand he was painted holding a crowne of Laurell, in his left hand a purse of mony, & out of his mouth honge a lace of two faire pictures, of a mā & a womā, & such a coūtenance he shewed, as if he[Page 164] would perswade folks by those aluremēts to come thi­ther & be hanged. I, like a tēder harted wench, skriked out for feare of the diuell. Well (sayd she) this fame is euen Loue: therefore do what thou list with all those fellowes, one after another; & it recks not much what they do to thee, so it be in secreat; but vpon my charge, neuer loue none of them. Why mother (said I) could such a thing come frō the belly of the faire Fenus? for a few dayes before, our (priest betweene him & me) had tolde me the whole storie of Venus. Tush (said she) they are all deceaued: and therewith gaue me this Booke, which she said a great maker of bailets had giuen to an old painter, who for a litle pleasure, had bestowed both booke and picture of her. Reade there (said she) & thou shalt see that his mother was a cowe, and the false Ar­gus his father. And so she gaue me this Booke, & there now you may reade it. With that the remembrance of the good old woman, made her make such a face to weepe, as if it were not sorrow, it was the carkasse of sorrow that appeared there. But while her teares came out, like raine falling vpon durtie furrowes, the latter end of her praier booke was read among these Ladies, which contained this.

POore Painters oft with silly Poets ioyne,
To fill the world with strange but vaine conceits:
One brings the stuffe, the other stamps the coine,
Which breeds nought else but gloses of deceits.
Thus Painters Cupid paint, thus Poets do
A naked god, young blind, with arrowes two.
Is he a God, that euer flies the light?
Or naked he, disguis'd in all vntruth?
If he be blind, how hitteth he so right?
How is he young, that tam'de old Phoebus youth?
But arrowes two, and tipt with gold or leade:
Some hurt accuse a third with horny head.
No, nothing so; an old false knaue he is
By Argus got on Io, then a cow:
What time for her Iuno her Ioue did misse,
And charge of her to Argus did allow.
Mercury kill'd his false fire for this act,
His damme a beast was pardon'd beastly fact.
With fathers death, and mothers guiltie shame,
With Ioues disdaine at such a riuals seed,
The wretch compell'd a runnagate became,
And learn'd what ill a miser state doth breed,
To lye, faine, gloze, to steale, pry, and accuse,
Naught in himselfe each other to abuse.
Yet beares he still his parents stately gifts,
A horned head, clouen foote, and thousand eyes,
Some gazing still, some winking wilye shiftes,
With long large eares where neuer rumour dyes.
His horned head doth seeme the heauen to spight:
His clouen foote doth neuer treade aright.
Thus halfe a man, with man he dayly haunts,
Cloth'd in the shape which soonest may deceaue:
Thus halfe a beast, ech beastly vice he plants,
In those weake harts that his aduice receaue.
He proules ech place stil in new colours deckt,
Sucking ones ill, another to infect.
To narrow brests he comes all wrape in gaine:
To swelling harts he shines in honours fire:
To open eyes all beauties he doth raine;
Creeping to ech with flattering of desire.
But for that Loues desire most rules the eyes,
Therein his name, there his chiefe triumph lyes.
Millions of yeares this old driuell Cupid liues;
While still more wretch, more wicked he doth proue:
Till now at length that Ioue him office giues,
(At Iunos suite who much did Argus loue)
In this our world a hang-man for to be,
Of all those fooles that will haue all they see.

These Ladies made sport at the description and sto­rie argument key no. 4 of Cupid. But Zelmane could scarce suffer those blas­phemies (as she tooke them) to be read, but humbly be­sought Pamela she would perfourme her sisters request of the other part of the storie. Noble Lady (answered she, beautifying her face with a sweete smiling, and the sweetnes of her smiling with the beautie of her face) since I am borne a Princes daughter, let me not giue example of disobedience. My gouernesse will haue vs draw cuts, and therefore I pray you let vs do so: and so perhaps it will light vpon you to entertaine this com­pany with some storie of your owne; and it is reason our eares should be willinger to heare, as your tongue is abler to deliuer. I will thinke (answered Zelmane) ex­cellent Princesse my tongue of some value, if it can procure your tongue thus much to fauour me. But Pa­mela pleasantly persisting to haue fortune their iudge, they set hands, and Mopsa (though at the first for squea­mishnes going vp & downe, with her head like a boate in a storme) put to her golden gols among them, and blind Fortune (that saw not the coulor of them) gaue her the preheminence: and so being her time to speake (wiping her mouth, as there was good cause) she thus[Page] tumbled into her matter. In time past (sayd she) there argument key no. 5 was a King, the mightiest man in all his country, that had by his wife, the fairest daughter that euer did eate pappe. Now this King did keepe a great house, that eue­ry body might come and take their meat freely. So one day, as his daughter was sitting in her window, playing vpon a harpe, as sweete as any Rose; and combing her head with a combe all of precious stones, there came in a Knight into the court, vpō a goodly horse, one haire of gold, & the other of siluer; and so Knight casting vp his eyes to the window, did fall into such loue with her, that he grew not worth the bread he eate; till many a sorry day going ouer his head, with Dayly Diligence and Grisly Grones, he wan her affection, so that they a­greed to run away togither. And so in May, when all true hartes reioyce, they stale out of the Castel, without stay­ing so much as for their breakfast. Now forsooth, as they went togither, often all to kissing one another, the Knight told her, he was brought vp among the water Nymphes, who had so bewitched him, that if he were euer askt his name, he must presently vanish away: and therefore charged her vpon his blessing, that she neuer aske him what he was, nor whether he would. And so a great while she kept his commandement; til once, pas­sing through a cruell wildernes, as darke as pitch; her mouth so watred, that she could not choose but aske him the question. And then, he making the greeuousest cōplaints that would haue melted a tree to haue heard them, vanisht quite away: & she lay down, casting forth as pitifull cries as any shrich-owle. But hauing laien so, (wet by the raine, and burnt by the Sun) fiue dayes, & fiue nights, she gat vp and went ouer many a high hil, &[Page 166] many a deepe riuer; till she came to an Aunts house of hers; and came, & cried to her for helpe: and she for pit­tie gaue her a Nut, and bad her neuer open her Nut, til she was come to the extremest misery that euer tongue could speake of. And so she went, & she went, & neuer rested the euening, wher she wēt in the morning; til she came to a second Aunt; and she gaue her another Nut.

Now good Mopsa (said the sweete Philoclea) I pray argument key no. 6 thee at my request keepe this tale, till my marriage day, & I promise thee that the best gowne I weare that day shall be thine. Mopsa was very glad of the bargaine, espe­cially that it shuld grow a festiual Tale: so that Zelmane, who desired to finde the vttermost what these Ladies vnderstood touching her selfe, and hauing vnderstood the danger of Erona (of which before she had neuer heard) purposing with her selfe (as soone as this pursuit she now was in, was brought to any effect) to succour her, entreated againe, that she might know as well the story of Plangus, as of Erona. Philoclea referred it to her sisters perfecter remēbrāce, who with so sweet a voice, and so winning a grace, as in themselues were of most forcible eloquence to procure attention, in this maner to their earnest request soone condiscended.

CHAP. 15.

1 Plangus-his parcntage. 2 His trick of youth, 3 espied, 4 & turned ouer by, and to his old father. 5 An inueagling-womans arts. 6 A guilty stepmothers diuellish practises against Plangus. 7 Her ministers false informations. 8 Plangus perplexities. 9 His fathers ielousies. The Queenes complots 10 to feede the ones suspicion, 11 & work the others ouerthrow. 12 Plangus taken; 13 deliuered flietch: 14 is pursued with old hate, & new treason 15 Yet must he serue abroad, while a new heire is made at home. 16 This story broken off by Basilius.

argument key no. 1 THe father of this Prince Plangus as yet liues, and is King of Iberia: a man (if the iudgement of Plangus may be accepted) of no wicked nature, nor willingly doing euill, without himselfe mistake the euill, seeing it disguised vnder some forme of goodnesse. This Prince, being married at the first to a Princesse (who both from her auncesters, and in her selfe was worthy of him) by her had this son, Plangus. Not long after whose birth, the Queene (as though she had perfourmed the mes­sage for which she was sent into the world) returned again vnto her maker. The King (sealing vp al thoughts of loue vnder the image of her memorie) remained a widdower many yeares after; recompencing the griefe of that disioyning from her, in conioyning in himselfe both a fatherly and a motherly care toward her onely child, Plangus. Who being growne to mans age, as our owne eies may iudge, could not but fertilly requite his fathers fatherly education.

argument key no. 2 This Prince (while yet the errors in his nature were excused by the greenenes of his youth, which tooke all the fault vpon it selfe) loued a priuate mans wife of the principal Citie of that Kingdome, if that may be called loue, which he rather did take into himselfe willingly. then by which he was takē forcibly. It sufficeth, that the yong man perswaded himself he loued her: she being a woman beautiful enough, if it be possible, that the out­side onely can iustly entitle a beauty. But finding such a chase as onely fledde to be caught, the young Prince broght his affectiō with her to that point, which ought to engraue remorse in her harte, & to paint shame vpon[Page 167] her face. And so possest he his desire without any in­terruption; he constantly fauouring her, and she thin­king, that the enameling of a Princes name, might hide the spots of a broken wedlock. But as I haue seene one that was sick of a sleeping disease, could not be made wake, but with pinching of him: so out of his sinfull sleepe his minde (vnworthie so to be loste) was not to be cald to it selfe, but by a sharpe accident.

It fell out, that his many-times leauing of the court argument key no. 3 (in vndue times) began to be noted; and (as Princes eares be manifolde) from one to another came vnto the King; who (carefull of his onely sonne) sought, and found by his spies (the necessarie euill seruauntes to a King) what it was, whereby he was from his better de­lights so diuerted.

Whereupon, the King (to giue his fault the greater argument key no. 4 blow) vsed such meanes, by disguising himselfe, that he found them (her husband being absent) in her house together: which he did, to make him the more feeling­ly ashamed of it. And that way he tooke, laying threat­nings vpon her, and vpon him reproaches. But the poore young Prince (deceiued with that young opini­on, that if it be euer lawfull to lie, it is for ones Louer,) employed all his witte to bring his father to a better o­pinion. And because he might bende him from that (as he counted it) crooked conceit of her, he wrested him, as much as he coulde possiblie, to the other side: not sticking with prodigall protestations to set foorth her chastitie; not denying his own attempts, but there­by the more extolling her vertue. His Sophistrie pre­uayled, his father beleeued; and so beleeued, that ere long (though he were alredy stept into the winter of[Page] his age) he founde himselfe warme in those desires, which were in his sonne farre more excusable. To be short, he gaue himselfe ouer vnto it; and (because he would auoide the odious comparison of a yong riuall) sent away his sonne with an armie, to the subduing of a Prouince lately rebelled against him, which he knewe could not be a lesse worke, thē of three or foure yeares. Wherein he behaued him so worthilie, as euen to this country the fame therof came, long before his own cō ­ming: while yet his father had a speedier succes, but in a far vnnobler conquest. For while Plangus was away, the old man (growing onely in age & affectiō) folowed his suite with all meanes of vnhonest seruants, large promi­ses, and each thing els that might help to counteruaile his owne vnlouelines.

argument key no. 5 And she (whose husband about that time died) for­getting the absent Plangus, or at lest not hoping of him to obtaine so aspiring a purpose, lefte no arte vnused, which might keepe the line from breaking, wherat the fishe was alredy taken; not drawing him violently, but letting him play himself vpon the hooke, which he had greedely swalowed. For, accompanying her mourning with a dolefull countenaunce, yet neither forgetting hansomnes in her mourning garments, nor sweetenes in her dolefull countenance; her wordes were euer sea­soned with sighes; and any fauour she shewed, bathed in teares, that affection might see cause of pity; and pity might perswade cause of affection. And being growen skilfull in his humors, she was no lesse skilfull in apply­ing his humors: neuer suffering his feare to fall to a des­paire, nor his hope to hasten to an assurance: she was content he should thinke that she loued him; and a cer­taine[Page 168] stolne looke should sometimes (as though it were against her will) bewray it: But if thereupon he grewe bolde, he straight was encountred with a maske of ver­tue. And that which seemeth most impossible vnto me, (for as neere as I can I repeate it as Plangus tolde it) she could not onely sigh when she would, as all can doo; & weep when she would, as (they say) some can doo; but (being most impudent in her hart) she could, when she would, teach her chekes blushing, and make shame fast­nes the cloake of shamelesnes. In summe, to leaue out many particularities which he recited, she did not one­ly vse so the spurre, that his Desire ran on, but so the bit, that it ran on, euē in such a careere as she would haue it; that within a while, the king, seeing with no other eyes but such as she gaue him, & thinking no other thoghts but such as she taught him; hauing at the first liberall measure of fauors, then shortned of thē, when most his Desire was inflamed; he saw no other way but mariage to satisfie his longing, and her mind (as he thought) lo­uing, but chastly louing. So that by the time Plangus re­turned from being notably victorious of the Rebels, he foūd his father, not only maried, but already a father of a sonne & a daughter by this womā. Which though Plā ­gus (as he had euery way iust cause) was grieued at; yet did his grief neuer bring forth ether cōtemning of her, or repining at his father. But she (who besides she was argument key no. 6 growen a mother, and a stepmother, did read in his eies her owne fault, and made his conscience her guiltines) thought still that his presence caried her condēnation: so much the more, as that she (vnchastly attempting his wōted fācies) foūd (for the reuerēce of his fathers bed) a bitter refusall: which breeding rather spite then shame[Page] in her, or if it were a shame, a shame not of the fault, but of the repulse, she did not onely (as hating him) thirst for a reuenge, but (as fearing harm from him) en­deuoured to doo harme vnto him. Therefore did she trie the vttermost of her wicked wit, how to ouerthrow him in the foundation of his strength, which was, in the fauour of his father: which because she saw strong both in nature and desert, it required the more cūning how to vndermine it. And therefore (shunning the or­dinary trade of hireling sycophants) she made her prai­ses of him, to be accusations; and her aduauncing him, to be his ruine. For first with words (neerer admiration then liking) she would extoll his excellēcies, the good­lines of his shape, the power of his witte, the valiantnes of his courage, the fortunatenes of his successes: so as the father might finde in her a singular loue towardes him: nay, she shunned not to kindle some fewe sparkes of ielousie in him. Thus hauing gotten an opinion in his father, that she was farre from meaning mischiefe to the sonne, then fell she to praise him with no lesse vehe­mencie of affection, but with much more cunning of malice. For then she sets foorth the liberty of his mind, the high flying of his thoughts, the fitnesse in him to beare rule, the singular loue the Subiects bare him; that it was doubtfull, whether his wit were greater in win­ning their fauors, or his courage in employing their fa­uours: that he was not borne to liue a subiect-life, each action of his bearing in it Maiestie, such a Kingly enter­tainement, such a Kingly magnificence, such a Kingly harte for enterprises: especially remembring those ver­tues, which in a successor are no more honoured by the subiects, then suspected of the Princes. Then would she[Page 169] by putting-of obiectiōs, bring in obiectiōs to her hus­bands head, already infected with suspitiō. Nay (would she say) I dare take it vpon my death, that he is no such sonne, as many of like might haue bene, who loued greatnes so well, as to build their greatnes vpon their fathers ruine. Indeed Ambition, like Loue, can abide no lingring, & euer vrgeth on his own successes; hating nothing, but what may stop thē. But the Gods forbid, we should euer once dreame of any such thing in him, who perhaps might be content, that you & the world should know, what he can do: but the more power he hath to hurte, the more admirable is his praise, that he wil not hurt. Then euer remembring to strengthen the suspition of his estate with priuate ielousie of her loue, doing him excessiue honour when he was in presence, and repeating his pretie speaches and graces in his ab­sence; besides, causing him to be imployed in all such dangerous matters, as ether he should perish in them, or if he preuailed, they should increase his glory: which she made a weapon to woūd him, vntill she found that suspition began already to speake for it selfe, and that her husbands eares were growne hungry of rumours, and his eies prying into euery accident.

Then tooke she help to her of a seruant neere about argument key no. 7 her husband, whom she knew to be of a hasty ambitiō, and such a one, who wanting true sufficiencie to raise him, would make a ladder of any mischiefe. Him she v­seth to deale more plainely in alleaging causes of iea­lousie, making him know the fittest times when her husband already was stirred that way. And so they two, with diuers wayes, nourished one humour, like Musitians, that singing diuers parts, make one musicke. He sometime with fearefull countenaunce would de­sire[Page] the King to looke to himselfe; for that all the court and Cittie were full of whisperings, and expectation of some suddaine change, vpon what ground himselfe knew not. Another time he would counsell the King to make much of his sonne, and holde his fauour, for that it was too late now to keepe him vnder. Now see­ming to feare himselfe, because (he said) Plangus lo­ued none of them that were great about his father. Lastly, breaking with him directly (making a sorrowful countenance, & an humble gesture beare false witnesse for his true meaning) that he foūd, not only souldiery, but people weary of his gouernment, & al their affecti­ons bent vpon Plangus. Both he and the Queene con­curring in strange dreames, & each thing else, that in a mind (already perplexed) might breed astonishment: so that within a while, all Plangus actions began to be translated into the language of suspition.

argument key no. 8 Which though Plangus foūd, yet could he not auoid, euen cōtraries being driuen to draw one yoke of argu­mēt: if he were magnificēt, he spent much with an aspi­ring intent: if he spared, he heaped much with an aspi­ring intent: if he spake curteously, he angled the peo­ples harts: if he were silent, he mused vpon some daun­gerous plot. In summe, if he could haue turned himself to as many formes as Proteus, euery forme should haue bene made tedious.

argument key no. 9 But so it fell out, that a meere trifle gaue thē occasion of further proceeding. The King one morning, going to a vineyard that lay a long the hill where his castle stood, he saw a vine-labourer, that finding a bowe bro­ken, tooke a branch of the same bowe for want of an­other thing, and tied it about the place broken. The King asking the fellow what he did, Marry (said he) I[Page 170] make the sonne binde the father. This word (finding the King alredy supersticious through suspitiō) amazed him streight, as a presage of his owne fortune: so that, returning, and breaking with his wife how much he misdoubted his estate, she made such gaine-saying an­sweres, as while they straue, straue to be ouercome. But euen while the doubtes most boiled, she thus nou­rished them.

She vnder-hand dealt with the principall mē of that argument key no. 10 coūtry, that at the great Parliamēt (which was then to be held) they should in the name of all the estates per­swade the King (being now stept deeply into old age) to make Plangus, his associate in gouernmēt with him: assuring thē, that not only she would ioine with them, but that the father himself would take it kindly; charge­ing thē not to acquaint Plangus withal; for that perhaps it might be harmeful vnto him, if the King should find, that he wer a party. They (who thought they might do it, not only willingly, because they loued him, & truly, because such indeed was the minde of the people, but safely, because she who ruled the King was agreed ther­to) accōplished her coūsell: she indeed keeping promise of vehement perswading the same: which the more she & they did, the more she knew her husbād would fear, & hate the cause of his feare. Plangus foūd this, & hūbly protested against such desire, or wil to accept. But the more he protested, the more his father thought he dis­sēbled, accoūting his integritie to be but a cūning face of falshood: and therfore delaying the desire of his sub­iects, attended some fit occasion to lay hands vpon his sonne: which his wife thus brought to passe.

She caused that same minister of hers to go vnto Plā ­gus, argument key no. 11 [Page] & (enabling his words with great shew of faith, & endearing them with desire of secresie) to tell him, that he found his ruine conspired by his stepmother, with certain of the noble men of that coūtry, the King himselfe giuing his consent, and that few daies should passe, before the putting it in practize: with all discoue­ring the very truth indeed, with what cunning his step­mother had proceeded. This agreing with Plangus his owne opiniō, made him giue him the better credit: yet not so far, as to flie out of his country (according to the naughty fellowes persuasion) but to attend, and to see further. Wherupon the fellow (by the direction of his mistresse) told him one day, that the same night, about one of the clocke, the King had appointed to haue his wife, & those noble mē together, to deliberate of their manner of proceeding against Plangus: & therfore offe­red him, that if himselfe would agree, he would bring him into a place where he should heare all that passed; & so haue the more reason both to himselfe, and to the world, to seeke his safetie. The poore Plāgus (being sub­iect to that only disaduantage of honest harts, creduli­tie) was perswaded by him: & arming himselfe (because of his late going) was closely conueied into the place appointed. In the meane time his stepmother, making all her gestures cunningly counterfait a miserable affli­ctiō, she lay almost groueling on the flower of her chā ­ber, not suffering any body to comfort her; vntill they calling for her husband, and he held of with long en­quiry, at length, she told him (euen almost crying out euery word) that she was wery of her life, since she was brought to that plunge, either to conceale her husbāds murther, or accuse her sonne, who had euer bene more[Page 171] deare, then a sonne vnto her. Then with many inter­ruptions and exclamations she told him, that her sonne Plangus (sollicting her in the old affection betweene them) had besought her to put her helping hand to the death of the King; assuring her, that though all the lawes in the world were against it, he would marrie her when he were King.

She had not fully said thus much, with many pitifull argument key no. 12 digressiōs, whē in comes the same fellow, that brought Plāgus: &rūning himself out of breath, fell at the Kings feet, beseeching him to saue himself, for that there was a man with sword drawen in the next roome. The King affrighted, wēt out, & called his gard, who entring the place, foūd indeed Plangus with his sword in his hand, but not naked, but stāding suspiciously in ough, to one already suspicious. The King (thinking he had put vp his sworde because of the noise) neuer tooke leasure to heare his answer, but made him prisoner, meaning the next morning to put him to death in the market place.

But the day had no sooner opened the eies & eares argument key no. 13 of his friends & followers, but that there was a little ar­my of them, who came, and by force deliuered him; al­though nūbers on the other side (abused with the fine framing of their report) tooke armes for the King. But Plangus, though he might haue vsed the force of his friends to reuenge his wrong, and get the crowne; yet the naturall loue of his father, and hate to make their suspition seeme iust, caused him rather to choose a vo­lūtarie exile, thē to make his fathers death the purchase of his life: & therefore went he to Tiridates, whose mo­ther was his fathers sister, liuing in his Court eleuen or Twelue yeares, euer hoping by his intercession, and his[Page] owne desert, to recouer his fathers grace. At the end of which time, the warre of Erona happened, which my sister with the cause thereof discoursed vnto you.

argument key no. 14 But his father had so deeply engraued the suspicion in his hart, that he thought his flight rather to proceed of a fearefull guiltines, then of an humble faithfulnes; & therfore continued his hate, with such vehemencie, that he did euer hate his Nephew Tiridates, and after­wards his neece Artaxia, because in their Court he re­ceiued countenance, leauing no meanes vnattēpted of destroying his son; among other, employing that wic­ked seruant of his, who vndertooke to empoyson him. But his cūning disguised him not so well, but that the watchful seruāts of Plāgus did discouer him. Wherupō the wretch was taken, & (before his wel-deserued exe­cution) by torture forced to confesse the particularities of this, which in generall I haue told you.

argument key no. 15 Which cōfession autentically set downe (though Ti­ridates with solemne Embassage sent it to the King) wrought no effect. For the King hauing put the reines of the gouernment into his wiues hande, neuer did so much as reade it; but sent it streight by her to be con­sidered. So as they rather heaped more hatred vpon Plangus, for the death of their seruaunt. And now fin­ding, that his absence, and their reportes had much diminished the wauering peoples affection towardes Plangus, with aduauncing fit persons for faction, and graunting great immunities to the commons, they preuailed so farre, as to cause the sonne of the second wife, called Palladius, to be proclaymed successour, and Plangus quite excluded: so that Plangus was dri­uen to continue his seruing Tiridates, as he did in the[Page 172] warre against Erona, and brought home Artaxia, as my sister tolde you; when Erona by the treason of Amiphilus, But at that word she stopped. For Basilius argument key no. 16 (not able longer to abide their absence) came so dainly among them, and with smiling countenance (telling Zelmane he was affraid she had stollen away his daugh­ters) inuited them to follow the Sunnes counsel in go­ing then to their lodging; for indeed the Sun was readie to set. They yeelded, Zelmane meaning some other time to vnderstand the storie of Amiphilus treason, and Erona daunger, whose case she greatly tendred. But Miso had no sooner espied Basilius, but that as spitefully, as her rotten voice could vtter it, she set forth the saw­cinesse of Amphialus. But Basilius onely attended what Zelmanes opinion was, who though she hated Amphia­lus, yet the nobilitie of her courage preuailed ouer it, and she desired he might be pardoned that youthfull error; considering the reputation he had, to be one of the best knights in the world; so as hereafter he gouer­ned himselfe, as one remembring his fault. Basilius gi­uing the infinite tearmes of praises to Zelmanes both valour in conquering, and pittifulnesse in pardoning, commanded no more words to be made of it, since such he thought was her pleasure.

CHAP. 16.

1 The cumber of Zelmanes loue and louers. 2 Gynecias loue-lamentations. 3 Zelmanes passions 4 & sonet. 5 Basilius-his wooing, and Zelmanes answeres. 6 Philoclea feed attur­ney to plead her fathers cause.

argument key no. 1 SO brought he them vp to visite his wife, where betweene her, & him, the poore Zelmane receaued a tedious entertainemēt; oppressed with being loued, almost as much, as with louing. Basilius not so wife in couering his passion, could make his toong go almost no other pace, but to runne into those immoderate praises, which the foolish Louer thinkes short of his Mistres, though they reach farre beyond the heauens. But Gynecia (whome womanly modestie did more outwardly bridle) yet did oftentimes vse the aduantage of her sexe in kissing Zelmane, as she sate vpon her bedde-side by her; which was but still more and more sweete incense, to cast vpon the fire wherein her harte was sacrificed: Once Zelmane could not stirre, but that, (as if they had bene poppets, whose motion stoode onely vpon her plea­sure) Basilius with seruiceable steppes, Gynecia with greedie eyes would follow her. Basilius mind Gynccia well knew, and could haue found in her hart to laugh at, if mirth could haue borne any proportion with her fortune. But all Gynecias actions were interpreted by Basilius, as proceeding from iealousie of his amorous­nesse. Zelmane betwixt both (like the poore childe, whose father while he beates him, will make him beleeue it is for loue; or like the sicke man, to whom the Phisition sweares, the ill-tasting wallowish medi­cine he profers, is of a good taste) their loue was hate­full, their courtesie troublesome, their presence cause of her absence thence, where not onely her light, but her life consisted. Alas (thought she to her selfe) deare[Page 173] Dorus, what ods is there betweene thy destiny & mine. For thou hast to doo in thy pursuite but with shepher­dish folkes, who trouble thee with a little enuious care, and affected diligence. But I (besides that I haue now Miso, the worst of thy diuels, let loose vpon me) am wai­ted on by Princes, and watched by the two wakefull eyes of Loue and Iealousie. Alas, incomparable Philo­clea, thou euer seest me, but dost neuer see me as I am: thou hearest willingly all that I dare say, and I dare not say that which were most fit for thee to heare. Alas who euer but I was imprisoned in libertie, and banished be­ing still present? To whom but me haue louers bene iailours, and honour a captiuitie?

But the night comming on with her silent steps vp­on argument key no. 2 thē, they parted ech from other (if at lest they could be parted, of whom euery one did liue in another) and went about to flatter sleepe with their beds, that disdai­ned to bestow it selfe liberally vpon such eies which by their will would euer be looking: and in lest measure vpon Gynecia, who (when Basilius after long tossing was gotten a sleepe, and the cheereful comfort of the lights remoued from her) kneeling vp in her bed, began with a soft voice, and swolne hart, to renue the curses of her birth; & thē in a maner embracing her bed; Ah chastest bed of mine (said she) which neuer heretofore couldst accuse me of one defiled thought, how canst thou now receaue this desastred changeling? Happie, happie be they onely which be not: and thy blessednes onely in this respect thou maist feele, that thou hast no feeling. With that the furiously tare off great part of her faire haire: Take here forgotten vertue (said she) this mise­rable sacrifice; while my soule was clothed with mode­stie,[Page] that was a comely ornament: now why should na­ture crowne that head, which is so wicked, as her onely despaire is, she cannot be enough wicked? More she would haue said, but that Basilius (awaked with the noise) tooke her in his armes, & begā to cōfort her; the good-man thinking, it was all for a iealous loue of him: which humor if she would a litle haue maintained, per­chance it might haue weakned his new conceaued fan­cies. But he finding her answeres wandring frō the pur­pose, left her to her selfe (glad the next morning to take the aduātage of a sleepe, which a little before day, ouer­watched with sorow, her teares had as it were sealed vp in her eyes) to haue the more conference with Zelmane, who baited on this fashion by these two louers, & euer kept from any meane to declare herselfe, found in her selfe a dayly encrease of her violent desires; like a riuer the more swelling, the more his current is stopped.

argument key no. 3 The chiefe recreation she could find in her anguish, was somtime to visite that place, where first she was so happy as to see the cause of her vnhap. There would she kisse the ground, and thanke the trees, blisse the aier, & do doutiful reuerence to euery thing that she thought did accompany her at their first meeting: then returne again to her inward thoughts; somtimes despaire dark­ning all her imaginations, sometimes the actiue passion of Loue cheering and cleering her inuention, how to nvbar that combersome hinderance of her two ill-mat­ched louers. But this morning Basilius himself gaue her good occasion to go beyond them. For hauing combd and trickt himself more curiously, then any time fortie winters before, comming where Zelmane was, he found her giuen ouer to her musicall muses, to the great plea­sure[Page 174] of the good old Basilius, who retired himselfe be­hinde a tree, while she with a most sweete voice did vt­ter these passionate verses.

LOued I am, and yet complaine of Loue:argument key no. 4
As louing not, accus'd, in Loue I die.
When pittie most I craue, I cruell proue:
Still seeking Loue, loue found as much I flie.
Burnt in my selfe, I muse at others fire:
What I call wrong, I doo the same, and more:
Bard of my will, I haue beyond desire:
I waile for want, and yet am chokte with store.
This is thy worke, thou God for euer blinde:
Though thousands old, a Boy entit'led still.
Thus children doo the silly birds they finde,
With stroking hurt, and too much cramming kill.
Yet thus much Loue, O Loue, I craue of thee:
Let me be lou'd, or els not loued be.

Basilius made no great haste from behind the tree, till argument key no. 5 he perceaued she had fully ended her musick. But then loth to loose the pretious fruite of time, he presented himselfe vnto her, falling downe vpon both his knees, and holding vp his hands, as the old gouernesse of Da­nae is painted, when she so dainly saw the goldē shoure, O heauēly womā, or earthly Goddesse (said he) let not my presence be odious vnto you, nor my humble suit seeme of small weight in your eares. Vouchsafe your eies to descend vpon this miserable old-mā, whose life hath hitherto bene maintained but to serue as an en­crease of your beautiful triumphs. You only haue ouer throwne me, & in my bondage cōsists my glory. Suffer[Page] not your owne worke to be despised of you: but looke vpon him with pittie, whose life serues for your praise. Zelmane (keeping a coūtenāce ascanses she vnderstood him not) told him, It became her euil to suffer such ex­cessiue reuerence of him, but that it worse became her to correct him, to whom she owed duetie: that the opinion she had of his wisedome was such, as made her esteeme greatly of his words; but that the words themselues founded so, as she could not imagine what they might intend. Intend? (said Basilius, proud that that was brought in question) what may they intend, but a refreshing of my soule, and a swaging of my heat, and enioying those your excellencies, wherein my life is vpheld, and my death threatned? Zelmane lifting vp her face as if she had receaued a mortall iniurie of him, And is this the deuotion your ceremonies haue bene bent vnto? said she: Is it the disdaine of my estate, or the opinion of my lightnesse, that haue emboldned such base fancies towards me? enioying quoth you? now little ioy come to them that yeeld to such en­ioying. Poore Basilius was so appalled, that his legges bowed vnder him; his eyes lookt as though he would gladly hide himself; and his old blood going to his hart, a generall shaking all ouer his bodie possessed him. At length with a wanne mouth; he was about to giue a stammering answere, when it came into Zelmanes head by this deuise to make her profite of his folly; and therefore with a relented countenance, thus said vn­to him. Your words (mightie Prince) were vnfit either for me to heare, or you to speake: but yet the large testimonie I see of your affection makes me willing to suppresse a great number of errors. Onely thus much[Page 175] I thinke good to say, that the same words in my Ladie Philocleas mouth, as from one woman to another (so as there were no other bodie by) might haue had a better grace; and perchance haue found a gentler receipt.

Basilius (whose senses by Desire were held open, and argument key no. 6 conceipt was by Loue quickned) heard scarcely halfe her answere out, but that (as if speedie flight might saue his life) he turned away, and ran with all the speede his bodie would suffer him, towardes his daughter Philo­clea: whom he found at that time duetifully watching by her mother, and Miso curiouslie watching her; ha­uing left Mopsa to doo the like seruice to Pamela. Basilius foorthwith calling Philoclea aside, (with all the coniu­ing words which Desire could endite, and authoritie vtter) besought her she would preserue his life, in whō her life was begonne; she would saue his graye haires from rebuke, and his aged mind from despaire; that if she were not cloyed with his companie, and that she thought not the earth ouer-burdened with him, she would coole his fierie griefe, which was to be done but by her breath. That in fine, whatsoeuer he was, he was nothing but what it pleased Zelmane; all the powers of his spirite depending of her: that if she continued cruell, he could no more sustaine his life, then the earth remaine fruitefull in the Sunnes continuall absence. He concluded, she should in one payment requite all his deserts: and that she needed not disdaine any ser­uice (though neuer so meane) which was warranted by the sacred name of a father. Philoclea more glad then euer she had knowen her selfe, that she might by this occasion, enioy the priuate conference of Zelmane, yet[Page] had so sweete a feeling of vertue in her minde, that she would not suffer a vile colour to be cast ouer her faire thoughts; but with humble grace answered her father: That there needed nether promise nor perswasion to her, to make her doo her vttermost for her fathers ser­uice. That for Zelmanes fauour, she would in all vertu­ous sort seeke it towards him: and that as she woulde not pearce further into his meaning, then himselfe should declare, so would she interprete all his doinges to be accomplished in goodnes: and therefore desired, (if otherwise it were) that he woulde not imparte it to her, who then should be forced to beginne (by true o­bedience) a shew of disobedience: rather perfourming his generall commandement, which had euer beene, to embrace vertue, then any new particular, sprong out of passion, and contrarie to the former. Basilius content to take that, since he could haue no more (thinking it a great point, if by her meanes, he could get but a more free accesse vnto Zelmane) allowed her reasons, & took her prosser thākfully, desiring onely a speedy returne of comfort. Philoclea was parting, and Miso streight behind her, like Alecto following Proserpina. But Basilius forced her to stay, though with much a doo, she being sharp-set vpon the fulfilling of a shrewde office, in ouer-looking Philoclea: and so said to Basilius, that she did as she was comanded, and could not answere it to Gynecia, if she were any whitte from Philoclea: telling him true, that he did euill to take her charge from her. But Basilius, (swearing he would put out her eyes, if she stird a foote to trouble his daughter) gaue her a stoppe for that while.

CHAP. 17.

1 Zelmanes teares, 2 and tearefull dittie. 3 Philoclea enters conference with her. 4 She shues, and shewes her selfe Prince Pyrocles. 5 Philoclea feares much, but loues more. 6 Their conclusion, 7 with reentrie to their intermitted historio­logie.

SO away departed Philoclea, with a new field of fancies for her trauay­ling mind. For well she sawe, her father was growen her aduerse par­tie, and yet her fortune such, as she must fauour her Riuall; and the fortune of that fortune such, as neither that did hurt her, nor any con­trarie meane helpe her.

But she walkt but a little on, before she saw Zelmane argument key no. 1 lying vpon a banke, with her face so bent ouer Ladon, that (her teares falling into the water) one might haue thought, that she began meltingly to be metamorpho­sed to the vnder-running riuer. But by and by, with speech she made knowen, as well that she liued, as that she sorrowed. Faire streames (said she) that do vouch­safe in your cleerenes to represent vnto me my blub­bered face, let the tribute-offer of my teares vnto you, procure your stay a while with me, that I may beginne yet at last, to finde some thing that pities me: and that all thinges of comfort and pleasure doo not flie away from me. But if the violence of your spring commaund you to haste away, to pay your dueties to your great prince, the Sea, yet carrie with you these fewe wordes, and let the vttermost ends of the world know them. A[Page] Loue more cleer then your selues, dedicated to a Loue (I feare) more cold then your selues, with the cleerenes layes a night of sorow vpon me; and with the coldenes enflames a worlde of fire within me. With that she tooke a willowe stick, and wrote in a sandie banke these argument key no. 2 fewe verses.

Over these brookes trusting to ease mine eyes,
(Mine eyes euen great in labour with their teares)
I layde my face; my face wherein there lyes
Clusters of clowdes, which no Sunne euer cleares.
In watry glasse my watric eyes I see:
Sorrowes ill easde, where sorrowes painted be.
My thoughts imprisonde in my secreat woes,
With flamie breathes doo issue oft in sound:
The sound to this strange aier no sooner goes,
But that it dooth with Echoes force rebound.
And make me heare the plaints I would refraine:
Thus outward helps my inward griefes maintaine.
Now in this sande I would discharge my minde,
And cast from me part of my burdnous cares:
But in the sand my tales forctolde I finde,
And see therein how well the writer fares.
Since streame, aier, sand, mine eyes and eares conspire:
argument key no. 3 What hope to quench, where each thing blowes the fire?

And assoon as she had written them (a new swarme of thoughts stinging her mind) she was ready with her foot to giue the new-borne letters both death and bu­riall. But Philoclea (to whom delight of hearing and see­ing[Page 177] was before a stay from interrupting her) gaue her self to be seen vnto her, with such a lightning of Beauty vpō Zelmane, that nether she could looke on, nor would looke of. At last Philoclea (hauing a little mused how to cut the threede euen, betweene her owne hopelesse affection, and her fathers vnbridled hope) with eyes, cheekes, and lippes, (where of each sange their parte, to make vp the harmonie of bashfulnesse) began to say, My Father to whom I owe my self, & therefore, When Zelmane (making a womanish habite to be the Armour of her boldnesse, giuing vp her life to the lippes of Phi­loclea, and taking it againe by the sweetenesse of those kisses) humbly besought her to keepe her speach for a while within the Paradise of her minde. For well she knew her fathers errād, who should soon receiue a suf­ficient answere. But now she demaunded leaue not to loose this long sought-for commoditie of time, to case her harte thus farre, that if in her agonies her de­stinie was to be condemned by Philocleas mouth, at left Philoclea might know, whom she had condemned. Philoclea easily yeelded to graunt her owne desire: and so making the greene banke the situation, and the ri­uer the prospect of the most beautiful buildings of Na­ture, Zelmane doubting how to beginne, though her thoughts already had runne to the ende, with a minde fearing the vnworthinesse of euery worde that should be presented to her eares, at length brought it forth in this manner.

Most beloued Ladie, the incomparable excellen­cies argument key no. 4 of your selfe, (waited-on by the greatnesse of your estate) and the importaunce of the thing (whereon my life consisteth) doth require both many ceremo­nies[Page] before the beginning, and many circumstaunces in the vttering my speech, both bolde, and fearefull. But the small opportunitie of enuious occasion (by the malicious eie hateful Loue doth cast vpon me) and the extreme bent of my affection (which will eyther breake out in wordes, or breake my harte) compell me, not onely to embrace the smallest time, but to passe by respects due vnto you, in respect of your poore cai­tifes life, who is now, or neuer to be preserued. I doo therefore vowe vnto you, hereafter neuer more to o­mit all dutifull forme: doo you onely now vouchsafe to heare the matter of a minde most perplexed. If euer the found of Loue haue come to your eares, or if euer you haue vnderstood, what force it hath had to con­quere the strongest hartes, and change the most set­led estates: receiue here an example of those straunge Tragedies; one, that in him selfe conteineth the par­ticularities of all those misfortunes: and from hence­foorth beleeue that such a thing may be, since you shall see it is. You shall see (I say) a liuing image, and a present storie of what Loue can doo, when he is bent to ruine.

But alas, whether goest thou my tongue? or how doth my harte consent to aduenture the reuealing his neerest touching secrete? But peace Feare, thou com­mest too late, when already the harme is taken. There­fore I say againe, O onely Princesse, attend here a mi­serable miracle of affection. Behold here before your eyes Pyrocles, Prince of Macedon, whome you onely haue brought to this game of Fortune, and vnused Metamorphosis: whome you onely haue made neg­lect his countrie, forget his Father, and lastly, forsake[Page 178] to be Pyrocles: the same Pyrocles, who (you heard) was betrayed by being put in a ship, which being burned, Pyrocles was drowned. O most true presage: for these traytors, my eyes, putting me in a shippe of Desire, which dayly burneth, those eyes (I say) which betraied me, will neuer leaue till they haue drowned me. But be not, be not, (most excellent Lady) you that Nature hath made to be the Load-starre of comfort, be not the Rocke of shipwracke: you whome vertue hath made the Princesse of felicitie, be not the minister of ruine: you, whom my choyse hath made the God­desse of my safetie, O let not, let not, from you be pow­red vpon me destruction. Your faire face hath manie tokens in it of amazement at my wordes: thinke then what his amazement is, from whence they come: since no wordes can carry with them the life of the inward feeling. I desire, that my desire may be waied in the bal­lances of Honour, and let Vertue hold them. For if the highest Loue in no base person may aspire to grace, then may I hope your beautie will not be without pit­tie. If otherwise you be (alas but let it neuer be so) re­solued, yet shall not my death be comfortles, receiuing it by your sentence.

The ioy which wrought into Pygmalions mind, while argument key no. 5 he found his beloued image was softer, & warmer in his folded armes, till at length it accōplished his glad­nes with a perfect womans shape (still beautified with the former perfections) was euen such, as by each de­gree of Zelmanes wordes creepingly entred into Philo­clea: till her pleasure was fully made vp with the mani­festing of his being; which was such as in hope did ouer-come Hope. Yet Doubt would faine haue playd[Page] his parte in her minde, and cald in question, how she should be assured that Zelmane was Pyrocles. But Loue streight stood vp & deposed, that a lie could not come from the mouth of Zelmane. Besides, a certain sparke of honour, which rose in her well-disposed minde, made her feare to be alone with him, with whom alone she desired to be (with all the other cōtradictions growing in those minds, which nether absolutly clime the rocke of Vertue, nor freely sinke into the sea of Vanitie) but that sparke soone gaue place, or at lest gaue no more light in her mind, then a cādle doth in the Sunnes pre­sence. But euen sicke with a surfet of ioy, and fearefull of she knewe not what (as he that newly findes huge treasures, doubtes whether he sleepe or no; or like a fearfull Deere, which then lookes most about, when he comes to the best feede) with a shrugging kinde of tremor through all her principall partes, she gaue these affectionate wordes for answere. Alas, how painefull a thing it is to a deuided minde to make a wel-ioyned answere? how harde it is to bring inwarde shame to outward confession? and what handsomnes trow you can be obserued in that speeche, which is made one knowes not to whom? Shall I say ô Zelmane? Alas your wordes be against it. Shall I say Prince Pyrocles? wretch that I am, your shew is manifest against it. But this, this I may well say; If I had continued as I ought, Philoclea, you had either neuer bene, or euer bene Zelmane: you had either neuer attempted this change, set on with hope, or neuer discouered it, stopt with despaire. But I feare me, my behauiour ill gouerned, gaue you the first comfort: I feare me, my affection ill hid, hath giuē you this last assurance: I feare indeed, the weakenesse of my[Page 179] gouernment before, made you thinke such a maske would be gratefull vnto me: & my weaker gouernmēt since, makes you to pull of the visar. What shall I doo then? shal I seeke far-fetched inuentions? shall I labour to lay marble coulours ouer my ruinous thoughts? or rather, though the purenes of my virgin-minde be stai­ned, let me keepe the true simplicitie of my word. True it is, alas, too true it is, ô Zelmane (for so I loue to call thee, since in that name my loue first began, and in the shade of that name my loue shall best lie hidden,) that euen while so thou wert, (what eye bewitched me I know not) my passions were fitter to desire, then to be desired. Shall I say then, I am sory, or that my loue must be turned to hate, since thou art turned to Pyrocles? how may that wel be, since when thou wert Zelmane, the de­spaire thou mightest not be thus, did most torment me. Thou hast then the victorie: vse it with vertue. Thy vertue wan me; with vertue preserue me. Doost thou loue me? keepe me then still worthy to be beloued.

Then held she her tongue, and cast downe a self-ac­cusing argument key no. 6 looke, finding, that in her selfe she had (as it were) shot out of the bow of her affectiō, a more quick opening of her minde, then she minded to haue done. But Pyrocles so caried vp with ioy, that he did not enuy the Gods felicitie, presented her with some iewels of right princely value, as some litle tokens of his loue, & qualitie: and withall shewed her letters from his father King Euarchus, vnto him, which euen in the Sea had a­mongst his iewels bene preserued. But little needed those prooses to one, who would haue fallen out with her selfe, rather then make any contrarie coniectures to Zelmanes speeches; so that with such imbracements,[Page] as it seemed their soules desired to meete, and their harts to kisse, as their mouthes did: which faine Pyro­cles would haue sealed with the chiefe armes of his de­sire, but Philoclea commaunded the contrary; and yet they passed the promise of mariage.

argument key no. 7 And then at Philocleas entreaty, who was willing to purloine all occasions of remayning with Zelmane, she tolde her the storie of her life, from the time of their departing from Erona, for the rest she had already vn­derstood of her sister. For (saide she) I haue vnder­stood, how you first in the companie of your Noble cousin Musidorus parted from Thessalia, and of diuers aduentures, which with no more daunger then glory you passed through, till your comming to the succour of the Queene Erona; and the ende of that warre (you might perceiue by my selfe) I had vnderstood of the Prince Plangus. But what since was the course of your doings, vntil you came, after so many victories, to make a conquest of poore me, that I know not, the fame thereof hauing rather shewed it by pieces; then deliue­red any full forme of it. Therefore, deere Pyrocles (for what can mine eares be so sweetly fed with as to heare you of you) be liberall vnto me of those things which haue made you indeede pretious to the worlde, and now doubt not to tell of your perils; for since I haue you here out of them, euen the remembraunce of them is pleasaunt. Pyrocles easily perceiued she was content with kindnesse, to put of occasion of further kindnesse; wherein Loue shewed himselfe a coward­ly boy, that durst not attempt for feare of offending. But rather Loue prooued him selfe valiant, that durst with the sworde of reuerent dutie gaine-stand the[Page 180] force of so many enraged desires. But so it was, that though he knewe this discourse was to entertaine him from a more streight parley, yet he duist not but kisse his rod, and gladly make much of the entertaine­ment which she allotted vnto him: and therefore with a desirous sigh chastning his brest for too much desi­ring, Sweete Princesse of my life (said he) what Tro­phees, what Triumph, what Monuments, what Histo­ries may euer make my fame yeeld so sweete a Musicke to my eares, as that it pleaseth you to lend your minde to the knowledge of any thing touching Pyrocles, onely therefore of value, because he is your Pyrocles? And therefore grow I now so proud, as to thinke it worth the hearing, since you vouchsafe to giue it hearing. Therefore (onely height of my hope) vouchsafe to know, that after the death of Tiridates, and setling Ero­na in her gouernement; for setled we left her, howso­euer since (as I perceiued by your speech the last day) the vngrateful treason of her ill-chosen husband ouer­threw her (a thing in trueth neuer till this time by me either heard, or suspected) for who could thinke with­out hauing such a minde as Antiphilus, that so great a beautie as Eronas (indeed excellent) could not haue held his affection? so great goodnes could not haue bound gratefulnesse? and so high aduancement could not haue satisfied his ambition? But therefore true it is, that wickednesse may well be compared to a bottom­lesse pit, into which it is farre easier to keepe ones selfe from falling, then being fallen, to giue ones selfe any stay from falling infinitely. But for my Cosen, and me, vpon this cause we parted from Erona.

CHAP. 18.

1 Anaxius-his surcuidrie; 2 and challenge to Pyrocles, accep­ted. 3 The execution of Ladies done on a Light-of-loue. 4 Pyrocles-his intercession in the cause. 5 The lewd parts of that light lecher. 6 His scoffing excuses. 7 Didos reuenge on him stopped, 8 and his reuenge on her stayed by Pyro­cles.

argument key no. 1 EVardes (the braue & mighty Prince, whom it was my fortune to kill in the cōbat for Erona) had three Ne­phewes, sonnes to a sister of his; all three set among the foremost rācks of Fame for great minds to attēpt, and great force to perfourme what they did attempt; especially the eldest, by name Anax­ius; to whom al men would willingly haue yeelded the height of praise, but that his nature was such, as to be­stow it vpon himselfe, before any could giue it. For of so vnsupportable a pride he was, that where his deede might well stirre enuie, his demeanor did rather breed disdain. And if it be true that the Gyants euer made war against heauen, he had bene a fit ensigne-bearer for that company. For nothing seemed hard to him, though impossible; and nothing vniust, while his liking was his iustice. Now he in these wars had flatly refused his aid; because he could not brooke, that the worthy Prince Plagus was by his cosen Tiridates preferred before him. For allowing no other weights, but the sword & speare in iudging of desert, how-much he esteemed himselfe[Page 181] before Plangus in that, so much would he haue had his allowance in his seruice.

But now that he vnderstood that his vncle was slaine argument key no. 2 by me, I thinke rather scorne that any should kil his vn­cle, then any kindnesse (an vn-vsed guest to an arrogant soule) made him seeke his reuenge; I must confesse in manner gallant enough. For he sent a challenge to me to meete him at a place appointed, in the confines of the kingdome of Lycia; where he would proue vpon me, that I had by some trecherie ouercome his vncle, whom els many hundreds such as I, could not haue withstood. Youth & successe made me willing enough to accept any such bargaine; especially, because I had heard that your cosen Amphialus (who for some yeares hath vniuersally borne the name of the best Knight in the world) had diuers times fought with him, & neuer bene able to master him; but so had left him, that euery man thought Anaxius in that one vertue of curtesie far short of him, in al other his match; Anaxius stil deeming himselfe for his superiour. Therefore to him I would goe, and I would needs goe alone, because so I vnder­stood for certaine, he was; and (I must confesse) desi­rous to do something without the company of the in­comparable Prince Musidorus, because in my hart I ac­knowledge that I owed more to his presence, then to any thing in my self, whatsoeuer before I had done. For of him indeed (as of any worldly cause) I must grant, as receiued, what euer there is, or may be good in me. He taught me by word, and best by example, giuing me in him so liuely an Image of vertue, as ignorance could not cast such mist ouer mine eyes, as not to see, and to loue it, and all with such deare friendship and care, as (ô[Page] heauens) how cā my life euer requite vnto him? which made me indeed find in my selfe such a kind of depen­ding vpon him, as without him I found a weakenesse, and a mistrustfulnes of my selfe, as one strayed from his best strength, when at any time I mist him. Which hu­mour perceiuing to ouer-rule me, I straue against it; not that I was vnwilling to depend vpon him in iudgemēt, but by weakenesse I would not; which though it held me to him, made me vnworthy of him. Therfore I de­sired his leaue, and obtained it: such confidence he had in me, preferring my reputation before his owne tendernesse; and so priuately went from him, he deter­mining (as after I knew) in secreat maner, not to be far from the place, where we appointed to meete, to pre­uent any foule play that might be offered vnto me. Full loth was Erona to let vs depart from her, (as it were) foreseeling the harmes which after fell to her. But I, (ridde fully from those combers of kindnesse, and halfe a dayes iourney in my way toward Anaxius) met an aduenture, (though in it selfe of small importance) I will tell you at large, because by the occasion thereof I was brought to as great comber and danger, as lightly any might escape.

argument key no. 3 As I past through a Laund (ech side where of was so bordred both with high tymber trees, and copses of farre more humble growth, that it might easily bring a solitarie minde to looke for no other companions then the wild burgesses of the forrest) I heard certaine cries, which comming by pawses to mine eares from within the wood of the right hand, made me well assured by the greatnesse of the crie, it was the voice of a man, though it were a veric vnmanlike voice, so to crie. But[Page 182] making mine eare my guide, I left not many trees be­hind me, before I saw at the bottome of one of them a gentle-man bound (with many garters) hand & foot, so as well he might tomble and tosse, but neither runne nor resist he could. Vpō him (like so many Eagles vpon an Oxe) were nine Gentle-women; truely such, as one might well enough say, they were hansome. Each of them helde bodkins in their handes, wherewith they continually pricked him, hauing bene before-hand vnarmed of any defence from the wast vpward, but onely of his shirte: so as the poore man wept and bled, cryed and prayed, while they sported themselues in his paine, and delighted in his prayers, as the argu­ments of their victorie.

I was moued to compassion, and so much the more argument key no. 4 that he straight cald to me for succour, desiring me at lest to kill him, to deliuer him from those tormenters. But before my-self could resolue, much lesse any other tell what I would resolue, there came in cholericke hast towards me about seuē or eight knights; the foremost of which willed me to get me away, and not to trouble the Ladies, while they were taking their due reuenge, but with so ouer-mastring a maner of pride, as truly my hart could not brooke it: & therfore (answering them, that how I would haue defended him from the Ladies I knew not, but from them I would) I began a combate first with him particularly, and after his death with the others (that had lesse good maners) ioyntly. But such was the end of it, that I kept the fielde with the death of some, and flight of others. In so much as the women (afraid, what angrie victorie would bring forth) ranne away; sauing onely one; who was so flesht in malice,[Page] that neither during, nor after the fight, she gaue any truce to her crueltie, but still vsed the little instrument of her great spight, to the well-witnest paine of the im­patient patient: and was now about to put out his eies, which all this while were spared, because they should do him the discomfort of seeing who preuailed ouer him. When I came in, and after much ado, brought her to some conference, (for some time it was before she would harken, more before she would speake; & most, before she would in her speech leaue off that remem­brance of her bodkin) but at length whē I puld off my head-peece, and humbly entreated her pardon, or knowledge why she was cruell; out of breath more with choller (which increased in his owne exercise) thē with the paine she tooke, much to this purpose she gaue her griefe vnto my knowledge. Gentleman (said she) much it is against my will to forbeare any time the ex­ecuting of my iust reuēge vpon this naughtie creature, a man in nothing, but in deceauing women; But be­cause I see you are young, and like enough to haue the power (if you would haue the mind) to do much more mischiefe, then he, I am content vpon this bad subiect to reade a lecture to your vertue.

argument key no. 5 This man called Pamphilus, in birth I must confesse is noble (but what is that to him, if it shalbe a staine to his deade auncestors to haue left such an ofspring?) in shape as you see not vncomely (indeed the fit maske of his disguised falshood) in conuersation wittily plea­sant, and pleasantly gamesome; his eyes full of merie simplicitie, his words of hartie companablenesse; and such a one, whose head one would not think so stayed, as to thinke mischieuously: delighted in al such things,[Page 183] which by imparting their delight to others, makes the vser therof welcome; as, Musicke, Daunsing, Hunting, Feasting, Riding, & such like. And to conclude, such a one, as who can keepe him at armes ende, neede neuer wish a better cōpaniō. But vnder these qualities lies such a poysonous addar as I will tell you. For by those gifts of Nature and Fortune (being in all places acceptable) he creepes, nay (to say truely) he flies so into the fauour of poore fillie women, that I would be too much asha­med to confesse, if I had not reuenge in my hande, as well as shame in my cheekes. For his hart being wholy delighted in deceiuing vs, we could neuer be warned, but rather, one bird caught, serued for a stale to bring in more. For the more he gat, the more still he shewed, that he (as it were) gaue away to his new mistresse, whē he betrayed his promises to the former. The cunning of his flatterie, the readines of his teares, the infinitenes of his vowes, were but among the weakest threedes of his nette. But the stirring our owne passions, and by the entrance of them, to make himselfe Lord of our forces; there lay his Masters part of cunning, making vs now iealous, now enuious, now proud of what we had, de­sirous of more; now giuing one the triumph, to see him that was Prince of many, Subiect to her; now with an estranged looke, making her feare the losse of that minde, which indeede could neuer be had: neuer cea­sing humblenes and diligence, till he had imbarked vs in some such disaduantage, as we could not return dry­shod; and then suddenly a tyrant, but a crastie tyrant. For so would he vse his imperiousnes, that we had a delightfull feare, and an awe which made vs loath to lose our hope. And, which is strangest (when some­times[Page] with late repentance I thinke of it) I must con­fesse, euen in the greatest tempest of my iudgemēt was I neuer driuen to think him excellent, and yet so could set my minde, both to gette and keepe him, as though therein had laien my felicitie: like them I haue seene play at the ball, growe extremely earnest, who shoulde haue the ball, and yet euery one knew it was but a ball. But in the end, the bitter sauce of the sport was, that we had ether our hartes broken with sorrow, or our estates spoyled with being at his direction, or our honours for euer lost, partly by our owne faults, but principally by his faultie vsing of our faults. For neuer was there man that could with more scornefull eyes beholde her, at whose feete he had lately laine, nor with a more vn­manlike brauerie vse his tongue to her disgrace, which lately had song Sonets of her praises: being so natural­ly inconstant, as I maruell his soule findes not some way to kill his bodie, whereto it had beene so long v­nited. For so hath he dealt with vs (vnhappie fooles,) as we could neuer tell, whether he made greater haste after he once liked, to enioy, or after he once enioy­ed, to forsake. But making a glorie of his own shame, it delighted him to be challenged of vnkindnesse: it was a triumph vnto him to haue his mercie called for: and he thought the fresh colours of his beautie were painted in nothing so well, as in the ruines of his Lo­uers: yet so farre had we engaged our selues, (vnfortu­nate soules) that we listed not complaine, since our complaintes could not but carrie the greatest accusati­on to our selues. But euerie of vs (each for her selfe,) laboured all meanes how to recouer him, while he rather daily sent vs companions of our deceipt, then[Page 184] euer returned in any sound and faithfull manner. Till at length he concluded all his wronges with betro­thing himselfe to one (I must confesse) worthie to be liked, if any worthinesse might excuse so vnworthie a changeablenesse; leauing vs nothing but remorse for what was past, and despaire of what might followe. Then indeede, the common iniurie made vs all ioyne in friendshippe, who till that time, had employed our endeuours one against the other. For, we thought nothing was a more condemning of vs, then the iu­stifying of his loue to her by mariage: then Despaire made Feare valiant, and Reuenge gaue Shame coun­tenance: whereupon, we (that you saw here) deuised how to get him among vs alone: which he (suspecting no such matter of them, whom he had by often abuses he thought made tame to be still abused) easilie gaue vs opportunitie to doo.

And a man may see, euen in this, how soone Ru­lers argument key no. 6 growe proude, and in their pride foolish: he came with such an authoritie among vs, as if the Planets had done inough for vs, that by vs once he had beene de­lighted. And when we began in courteous manner, one after the other, to lay his vnkindnesse vnto him, he seeing himselfe confronted by so many (like a re­solute Orator,) went not to deniall, but to iustifie his cruell falshoode, and all with such iestes, and disdain­full passages, that if the iniurie could not be made grea­ter, yet were our conceiptes made the apter to appre­hende it.

Among other of his answeres (forsooth) I shall ne­uer forgette, how he woulde prooue it was no in­constancie to chaunge from one Loue to an other,[Page] but a great constancie; and contrarie, that which we call constancie, to be most changeable. For (said he) I euer loued my Delight, & delighted alwayes in what was Louely: and where-soeuer I founde occasion to obtaine that, I constantly folowed it. But these constant fooles you speak of, though their Mistres grow by sick­nes foule, or by fortune miserable, yet stil will loue her, and so committe the absurdest inconstancie that may be, in changing their loue from fairenes to foulenesse, and from louelines to his contrarie; like one not con­tent to leaue a friend, but will streight giue ouer himself to his mortall enemie: where I (whom you call incon­stant) am euer constant; to Beautie, in others; and De­light in my self. And so in this iollie scoffing brauerie he went ouer vs all, saying, He left one, because she was ouer-waiwarde; another, because she was too soone woon; a third, because she was not merie inough; a fourth, because she was ouer-gamesome; the fifth, be­cause she was growen with griefe subiect to sicknesse; the sixt, because she was so foolish, as to be ielous of him; the seuenth, because she had refused to carie a let­ter for him, to another that he loued; the eight, because she was not secrete; the ninth, because she was not libe­rall: but to me, who am named Dido, (and indeede haue mette with a false AEnoeas) to me, I say, (ô the vn­gratefull villaine) he could finde no other fault to ob­iect, but that (perdie) he met with many fayrer.

argument key no. 7 But when he had thus plaide the carelesse Prince, we (hauing those seruants of ours in readines, whom you lately so manfully ouercame) laide holde of him; beginning at first but that trifling reuenge, in which you found vs busie; but meaning afterwarwardes to[Page 185] haue mangled him so, as should haue lost his credit for euer abusing more. But as you haue made my fellowes flie away, so for my part the greatnesse of his wrong o­uershadowes in my iudgement the greatnesse of any daunger. For was it not in ough for him, to haue decei­ued me, & through the deceipt abused me, & after the abuse forsaken me, but that he must now, of al the com­pany, & before all the company lay want of beautie to my charge? Many fairer? I trow euē in your iudgemēt, Sir, (if your eies do not beguile me) not many fairer; & I know (whosoeuer saies the cōtrary) there are not ma­ny fairer. And of whom should I receiue this reproch, but of him, who hath best cause to know there are not many fairer? And therefore how-soeuer my fellowes pardon his iniuries, for my parte I will euer remember, & remember to reuenge this scorne of al scornes. With that she to him afresh; & surely would haue put out his cies (who lay muet for shame, if he did not sometimes crie for feare) if I had not lept from my horse, & ming­ling force with in treaty, staied her furie.

But, while I was perswading her to meekenes, comes argument key no. 8 a number of his friends, to whom he forthwith cried, that they should kill that womā, that had thus betraied and disgraced him. But then I was faine to forsake the ensigne; vnder which I had before serued, and to spend my vttermost force in the protecting of the Ladie; which so well preuailed for her, that in the ende there was a faithfull peace promised of all sides. And so I lea­uing her in a place of securitie (as she thought) went on my iourney towards Anaxius, for whom I was faine to stay two daies in the apointed place, he disdaining to waite for me, till he was sure I were there.

CHAP. 19.

1 The monomachie betweene Anaxius and Pyrocles; 2 ad­iourned by Pyrocles to resuccour Dido. 3 The course of Didos daunger. 4 The miserablenesse of her father. 5 His carlish entertainement to Pyrocles; 6 and his treason a­gainst him. 7 Pyrocles hard bestead. 8 Succoured by Mu­sidorus: 9 both saued by the King of Iberia. 10 The exe­cution of the traitors, and death of Dido.

argument key no. 1 I Did patientlie abide his angrie pleasure, till about that space of time he came (indeede, according to promise) alone: and (that I may not say too little, because he is wont to say too much) like a man, whose courage was apt to clime o­uer any daunger. And assoone as euer he came neere me, in fit distaunce for his purpose, he with much fury, (but with fury skilfully guided) ran vpon me; which I (in the best sort I could) resisted, ha­uing kept my selfe ready for him, because I had vnder­stood, that he obserued but few complements in mat­ters of armes, but such as a proud anger did in dite vnto him. And so putting our horses into a full careere, we hit ech other vpon the head with our Launces: I think he felte my blowe; for my parte (I must confesse) I ne­uer receiued the like: but I thinke though my senses were astonished, my minde forced them to quicken themselues, because I had learned of him, how little fa­uour he is woont to show in any matter of aduantage.[Page 186] And indeede he was turned, and comming vpon me with his sworde drawne, both our staues hauing bene broken at that encounter. But I was so ready to an­swere him, that truely I know not who gaue the first blowe. But whosoeuer gaue the first, it was quickly se­conded by the second. And indeed (excellentest La­die) I must say truely, for a time it was well fought be­tweene vs; he vndoubtedly being of singular valour, (I would to God, it were not abased by his too much loftinesse) but as by the occasion of the combate, win­ning and loosing ground, we chaunged places, his horse happened to come vpon the point of the bro­ken speare, which fallen to the ground chaunced to stand vpward; so as it lighting vpon his hart, the horse died. He driuen to dismount, threatned, if I did not the like, to doo as much for my horse, as Fortune had done for his. But whether for that, or because I would not be beholding to Fortune for any part of the victo­rie, I descended.

So began our foote-fight in such sort, that we were argument key no. 2 well entred to bloud of both sides, when there comes by, that vnconstant Pamphilus, whom I had deliuered (easie to be knowne, for he was bare faced) with a do­sen armed men after him; but before him he had Dido (that Ladie, who had most sharpely punished him) riding vpon a palfrey, he following her with most vn­manlike crueltie; beating her with wandes he had in his hande, she crying for sense of payne, or hope of succour: which was so pittifull a sight vnto me, that it mooued me to require Anaxius to deferre our combate, till an other day, and now to perfourme the duties of Knighthood in helping this distressed Ladie.[Page] But he that disdaines to obey any thing but his passion (which he cals his mind) bad me leaue of that thought; but when he had killed me, he would then (perhaps) go to her succour. But I well finding the fight would be long betweene vs (longing in my hart to deliuer the Poore Dido) giuing him so great a blowe, as somewhat staied him, (to terme it a right) I flatly ran away from him toward my horse, who trotting after the cōpanie, in mine armour I was put to some paine, but that vse made me nimble vnto it. But as I followed my horse, Anaxius followed me: but his prowde harte did so dis­daine that exercise, that I had quickly ouer-run him, & ouer-taken my horse; being (I must cōfesse) ashamed to see a number of country folks, who happened to passe thereby, who hallowed & howted after me as at the ar­rantest coward, that euer shewed his shoulders to his e­nemie. But when I had leapt on my horse (with such speedy agility, that they all cried, O see how feare giues him wings) I turned to Anaxius, & aloud promised him to returne thether again, as soone as I had relieued the iniuried Ladie. But he railing at me, with all the base wordes angry contempt could endite; I said no more, but, Anaxius, assure thy self, I nether feare thy force, nor thy opinion. And so vsing no weapon of a Knight as at that time, but my spurres, I ranne in my knowledge after Pamphilus, but in al their conceipts from Anaxius, which as far as I could heare, I might well heare testifi­ed with such laughters and games, that I was some few times moued to turne backe againe.

argument key no. 3 But the Ladies misery ouer-balanced my reputation so that after her I went, & with six houres hard riding (through so wild places, as it was rather the cunning of[Page 187] my horse sometimes, then of my selfe, so rightly to hit the way) I ouergat thē a little before night, neere to an old il-fauoured castle, the place where I perceiued they meant to perfourme their vnknightly errand. For there they began to strip her of her clothes, when I came in among them, & running through the first with a laūce, the iustnesse of the cause so enhabled me against the rest (falsharted in their owne wrong doing) that I had, in as short time almost as I had bene fighting with on­ly Anaxius, deliuered her from those iniurious wret­ches: most of whom carried newes to the other world, that amongst men secret wronges are not alwaies left vnpunished. As for Pamphilus, he hauing once seene, & (as it should seeme) remembred me, euen from the be­ginning began to be in the rereward, and before they had left fighting, he was too far of to giue them thanks for their paines. But when I had deliuered to the La­die a ful libertie, both in effect, & in opinion, (for some time it was before she could assure her selfe she was out of their handes, who had layd so vehement appre­hension of death vpon her) she then tolde me, how as she was returning toward her fathers, weakely accom­panied (as too soone trusting to the falshood of recon­cilement) Pamphilus had set vpon her, and killing those that were with her, carried her selfe by such force, and with such māner as I had seene, to this place, where he meant in cruell and shamefull manner to kill her, in the sight of her owne Father; to whom he had already sent worde of it, that out of his castle windowe (for this ca­stle, she said, was his) he might haue the prospect of his onely childes destruction, if my comming, whom (she said) he feared (as soone as he knew me by the[Page] armour) had not warraunted her from that neere ap­proching crueltie. I was glad I had done so good a deede for a Gentlewoman not vnhandsome, whome before I had in like sorte helped. But the night begin­ning to perswade some retiring place, the Gentlewo­man, euen out of countenaunce before she began her speach, much after this manner inuited me to lodge that night with her father.

argument key no. 4 Sir (said she) how much I owe you, can be but a­based by wordes, since the life I haue, I holde it now the second time of you: and therefore neede not of­fer seruice vnto you, but onely to remember you, that I am your seruaunt: and I would, my being so, might any way yeeld any small contentment vnto you. Now onely I can but desire you to harbour your selfe this night in this castle; because the time requires it; and in truth this countrie is very daungerous for murthering theeues, to trust a sleeping life among them. And yet I must confesse, that as the loue I beare you makes me thus inuite you, so the same loue makes me ashamed to bring you to a place, where you shalbe so (not spokē by ceremonie but by truth) miserably entertained. With that she tolde me, that though she spake of her father (whom she named Chremes) she would hide no truth from me, which was in summe, that as he was of all that region the man of greatest possessions, and riches, so was he either by nature, or an euill receiued opi­nion, giuen to sparing, in so vnmeasurable a sorte, that he did not onely barre him selfe from the delight­full, but almost from the necessarie vse thereof; scarse­ly allowing him selfe fitte sustenaunce of life, rather then he would spende of those goods, for whose sake[Page 188] onely he seemed to ioye in life. Which extreame dealing (descending from himselfe vpon her) had dri­uen her to put her selfe with a great Lady of that coun­trie, by which occasion she had stumbled vpon such mischance, as were little for the honour either of her, or her familie. But so wise had he shewed himselfe therein, as while he found his daughter maintained without his cost, he was content to be deafe to any noise of infamie: which though it had wronged her much more then she deserued, yet she could not denie, but she was driuen thereby to receaue more then de­cent fauours. She concluded, that there at left I should be free from iniuries, & should be assured to her-wards to abound as much in the true causes of welcomes, as I should want of the effects thereof.

I, who had acquainted my selfe to measure the de­licacie argument key no. 5 of foode and rest, by hunger and wearinesse, at that time well stored of both, did not abide long en­treatie; but went with her to the Castle: which I found of good strength, hauing a great more rounde about it; the worke of a noble Gentleman, of whose vnthrif­tie sonne he had bought it. The bridge drawne vp, where we were faine to crie a good while before we coulde haue answeare, and to dispute a good while before answeare would bee brought to acceptance. At length a willingnesse, rather then a ioy to receaue his daughter, whome hee had lately seene so neere death, and an opinion rather brought into his heade by course, because he heard himselfe called a father; ra­ther then any kindnesse that hee found in his owne harte, made him take vs in; for my part by that time growne so wearie of such entertainement, that no[Page] regard of my selfe, but onely the importunitie of his daughter made me enter. Where I was met with this Chremes, a driueling old fellow, leane, shaking both of head and hands, alredie halfe earth, and yet then most greedie of Earth: who scarcely would giue me thankes for that I had done, for feare I suppose, that thankeful­nesse might haue an introduction of reward. But with a hollow voice, giuing me a false welcome, I might perceaue in his eye to his daughter, that it was hard to say, whether the displeasure of her company did not ouer-way the pleasure of her owne comming. But on he brought me, into so bare a house, that it was the picture of miserable happinesse, and rich beggerie (ser­ued onely by a company of rusticall villaines, full of sweate and dust, not one of them other, then a labou­rer) in summe (as he counted it) profitable drudgerie: and all preparations both for foode and lodging such, as would make one detest nigardnesse, it is so sluttish a vice. His talke nothing but of his pouertie, for feare belike lest I should haue proued a young borrower. In summe, such a man, as any enemy could not wish him worse, then to be himselfe. But there that night bidde I the burthen of being a tedious guest to a loathsome host; ouer-hearing him sometimes bitterly warne his daughter of bringing such costly mates vnder his roofe: which she grieuing at, desired much to know my name, I thinke partly of kindnesse to remember who had done some-thing for her, and partly because she assured her selfe I was such a one as would make euen his miser-minde contented, with what he had done. And accordingly she demaunded my name, and estate, with such earnestnesse, that I whom Loue had[Page 189] not as then so robbed me of my selfe, as to be another then I am, told her directly my name and condition: whereof she was no more gladde then her father, as I might well perceaue by some ill-fauoured cheere­fulnesse, which then first began to wrinckle it selfe in his face.

But the causes of their ioyes were farre different; for argument key no. 6 as the shepheard and the butcher both may looke vp­on one sheepe with pleasing conceipts, but the shep­heard with minde to profite himselfe by preseruing, the butcher with killing him: So she reioyced to finde that mine owne benefits had tyed me to be her friend, who was a Prince of such greatnesse, and louingly re­ioyced: but his ioy grew, (as I to my danger after per­ceiued) by the occasion of the Queene Artaxias set­ting my head to sale, for hauing slaine her brother Ti­ridates; which being the summe of an hundreth thou­sand crownes (to whosoeuer brought me aliue into her hands) that old wretch, (who had ouer-liued all good nature) though he had lying idly by him much more then that, yet aboue all things louing money, for monies owne sake determined to betray me, so well deseruing of him, for to haue that which he was deter­mined neuer to vse. And so knowing that the next morning I was resolued to go to the place where I had left Anaxius, he sent in all speed to a Captaine of a Gar­rison hard by; which though it belonged to the King of Iberia, (yet knowing the Captaines humor to delight so in riotous spending; as he cared not how he came by the meanes to maintaine it) doubted not, that to be halfe with him in the gaine, he would play his quarters part in the treason. And therefore that night agreeing[Page] of the fittest places where they might surprise me in the morning, the old caitiffe was growne so ceremonious, as he would needs accompanie me some myles in my way; a sufficient token to me, if Nature had made me apte to suspect; since a churles curtesie rathely comes but either for gaine, or falshood. But I suffered him to stumble into that point of good manner: to which purpose he came out with all his clownes, horst vpon such cart-iades, and so furnished, as in good faith I thought with my selfe, if that were thrist, I wisht none of my friends or subiects euer to thriue. As for his daughter (the gentle Dido) she would also (but in my conscience with a farre better minde) prolong the time of farewell, as long as he.

argument key no. 7 So we went on togither: he so old in wickednes, that he could looke me in the face, and freely talke with me, whose life he had alreadie contracted for: till comming into the falling of a way which ledde vs into a place, of each-side whereof men might easi­ly keepe themselues vndiscouered, I was encompassed so dainly by a great troupe of enimies, both of horse and foote, who willed me to yeelde my selfe to the Queene Artaxia. But they coulde not haue vsed worse eloquence to haue perswaded my yeelding, then that; I knowing the little good will Artaxia bare me. And therefore making necessitie and iustice my bestsword and shield, I vsed the other weapons I had as well as I could; I am sure to the little case of a good num­ber, who trusting to their number more then to their valure, and valewing money higher then equitie, felt, that guiltlesnesse is not alwayes with ease oppressed. As for Chremes, he withdrew himselfe, yet so guilding[Page 190] his wicked conceipts with his hope of gaine, that he was content to be a beholder, how I should be taken to make his pray.

But I was growne so wearie, that I supported my argument key no. 8 selfe more with anger then strength, when the most excellent Musidorus came to my succour; who hauing followed my trace as well as he could, after he had found I had left the fight with Anaxius, came to the niggards Castell, where he found all burnd and spoiled by the countrie people, who bare mortall hatred to that couetous man, and now tooke the time, when the castell was left almost without garde, to come in, and leaue monuments of their malice therein: which Must­dorus not staying either to further, or impeach, came vpon the spurre after me (because with one voice ma­ny told him, that if I were in his company, it was for no good meant vnto me) and in this extremitie found me. But when I saw that Cosen of mine, me thought my life was doubled, and where before I thought of a noble death, I now thought of a noble victorie. For who can feare that hath Musidorus by him? who, what he did there for me, how many he killed, not straun­ger for the number, then for the straunge blowes wherwith he sent them to a wel-deserued death, might well delight me to speake off, but I should so holde you too long in euery particular. But in trueth, there if euer, and euer, if euer any man, did Musidorus shew himselfe second to none in able valour.

Yet what the vnmeasurable excesse of their num­ber argument key no. 9 woulde haue done in the ende I knowe not, but the triall thereof was cutte off by the chaunceable[Page] comming thither of the King of Iberia, that same father of that worthy Plangus, whom it hath pleased you som­times to mention: who, (not yeelding ouer to old age his country delights, especially of hauking) was at that time (following a Merline) brought to see this iniurie offred vnto vs: and hauing great numbers of Courti­ers waiting vpon him, was straight known by the soul­diers that assaulted vs, to be their King, and so most of them with-drew themselues.

argument key no. 10 He by his authoritie knowing of the Captaines owne constrained confession, what was the motiue of this mischieuous practise; misliking much such violēce should be offred in his countrie to men of our ranke: but chiefely disdaining it should be done in respect of his Niece, whom (I must confesse wrongfully) he ha­ted, because he interpreted that her brother and she had maintained his sonne Plangus against him, caused the Captaines head presently to be striken off, and the old bad Chremes to be hanged: though truely for my part, I earnestly laboured for his life, because I had ea­ten of his bread. But one thing was notable for a con­clusion of his miserable life, that neither the death of his daughter, who (alas the poore Gentlewoman) was by chaunce slaine among his clownes, while she ouer­boldly for her weake sex sought to hold thē from me, nor yet his owne shamefull ende was so much in his mouth as he was ledde to execution, as the losse of his goods, and burning of his house: which often, with more laughter then teares of the hearers, he made pitti­full exclamations vpon.

CHAP. 20.

1 The two Princes passage to the Iberian Court. 2 Andro­manas omniregencie. 3 Her parti-loue to them both. 4 Her faire and foule meanes to inueigle them. 5 Palladius loue to Zelmane. 6 Zelmanes loue to Pyrocles, and practise with her Louer to release her beloued.

THis iustice thus done, and we deli­uered,argument key no. 1 the King indeede in royall sorte inuited vs to his Court, not farre thence: in all points entertai­ning vs so, as truely I must euer ac­knowledge a beholdingnesse vnto him: although the streame of it fell out not to be so sweet as the spring. For after some dayes being there (curing our selues of such wounds as we had receiued, while I, causing di­ligent search to be made of Anaxius, could learne no­thing, but that he was gone out of the countrie, boa­sting in euerie place, how he had made me run away) we were brought to receiue the fauour of acquaintāce with this Queene Andromana, whom the Princesse Pa­mela did in so liuely colours describe the last day, as still me thinkes the figure therof possesseth mine eyes, con­firmed by the knowledge my selfe had.

And therefore I shall neede the lesse to make you argument key no. 2 know what kinde of woman she was; but this onely, that first with the rarenes of affection, and after with the very vse of directing, she had made her selfe so ab­solute a maister of her husbands minde, that a-while he[Page] would not, and after, he could not tell how to gouem, without being gouerned by her: but finding an ease in not vnderstanding, let loose his thoughtes wholly to pleasure, entrusting to her the entire conduct of all his royall affaires. A thing that may luckely fall out to him that hath the blessing, to match with some Heroicall minded Ladie. But in him it was nether guided by wis­dome, nor followed by Fortune, but thereby was slipte insensiblie into such an estate, that he liued at her vn­discreete discretion: all his subiectes hauing by some yeares learned, so to hope for good, and feare of harm, onely frō her, that it should haue neded a stronger ver­tue thē his, to haue vnwound so deeply an entred vice. So that either not striuing (because he was contented) or contented (because he would not striue) he scarce­lie knewe what was done in his owne chamber, but as it pleased her Instrumentes to frame the relation.

argument key no. 3 Now we being brought knowen vnto her (the time that we spent in curing some very dangerous wounds) after once we were acquainted, (and acquainted we were sooner then our selues expected) she continuallie almost haunted vs, till (and it was not long a doing) we discouered a most violent bent of affection: and that so strangely, that we might well see, an euill minde in au­thoritie, dooth not onely folow the sway of the desires alreadie within it, but frames to it selfe new desires, not before thought of. For, with equall ardour she affected vs both: and so did her greatnes disdaine shamefastnes, that she was content to acknowledge it to both. For, (hauing many times torne the vaile of modestie) it see­med, for a laste delight, that she delighted in infamy: which often she had vsed to her husbands shame, filling[Page 192] all mens eares (but his) with reproch; while he (hood­winkt with kindnes) lest of al mē knew who strake him. But her first degree was, by setting foorth her beauties, (truely in nature not to be misliked, but as much aduā ­ced to the eye, as abased to the iudgemēt by arte) there­by to bring vs (as willingly-caught fishes) to bite at her baite. And there to had she that scutchion of her desires supported by certain badly-diligēt ministers, who oftē cloyed our eares with her praises, & would needs teach vs a way of felicitie by seeking her fauor. But when she found, that we were as deaf to thē, as dumb to her; then she lifted no lōger stay in the suburbs of her foolish de­sires, but directly entred vpō thē; making herslef an im­pudent suter, authorizing her selfe very much with ma­king vs see that all fauor & power in that realm, so depē ­ded vpon her, that now (being in her hands) we were ether to keep, or lose our liberty, at her discretiō; which yet she so tēpred, as that we might rather suspect, thē she threatē. But whē our woūds grew so, as that they gaue vs leaue to trauell, & that she found we were purposed to vse all meanes we could to depart thence, she (with more & more importunatnes) craued that, which in all good maners was ether of vs to be desired, or not gran­ted. Truely (most faire & euery way excellēt Lady) you would haue wondred to haue seene, how before vs she would confes the contentiō in her own mind, between that louely (indeed most louely) broūnes of Musidorus his face, & this colour of mine, which she (in the decei­uable stile of affection) would intitle beautifull: how her eyes wandered (like a glutton at a feast) from the one to the other; and how her wordes would beginne halfe of the sentence to Musidorus, & end the other half[Page] to Pyrocles: not ashamed (seeing the friendshippe be­tweene vs) to desire either of vs to be a mediator to the other; as if we should haue played a request at Tennis betweene vs: and often wishing, that she might be the angle, where the lines of our friendshippe might meet; and be the knotte which might tie our hartes together. Which proceeding of hers I doo the more largely set before you (most deare Lady) that by the foyle therof, you may see the noblenes of my desire to you, & the warrantablenes of your fauour to me.

argument key no. 4 At that Philoclea smiled, with a little nod. But (saide Pyrocles) when she perceiued no hope by suite to pre­uaile, then (perswaded by the rage of affection, and en­couraged by daring to doo any thing) she founde meanes to haue vs accused to the King, as though we went about some practise to ouerthrowe him in his owne estate. Which, because of the straunge successes we had in the kingdomes of Phrigia, Pontus & Galatia) seemed not vnlikely to him, who (but skimming any thing that came before him) was disciplined to leaue the through-handling of all, to his gentle wife: who foorth with caused vs to be put in prison, hauing (while we slept) depriued vs of our armour: a prison, indeede iniurious, because a prison, but els well testifying affec­tion, because in all respectes as commodious, as a pri­son might be: and indeede so placed, as she might at all houres, (not seene by many, though she cared not much how many had seene her) come vnto vs. Then fell she to sause her desires with threatnings, so that we were in a great perplexitie, restrained to so vnworthie a bondage, and yet restrained by Loue, which (I cannot tell how) in noble mindes, by a certain duety, claimes[Page 193] an answering. And how much that loue might mooue vs, so much, and more that faultines of her mind remo­ued vs; her beautie being balanced by her shamelesnes. But that which did (as it were) tie vs in captiuitie, was, that to graunt, had ben wickedly iniurious to him, that saued our liues: and to accuse a Ladie that loued vs, of her loue vnto vs, we esteemed almost as dishonorable: & but by one of those waies we sawe no likelihood of going out of that place, where the words would be in­iurious to your eares, which should expresse the man­ner of her suite: while yet many times earnestnes died her cheekes with the colour of shamefastnes; and wan­ton languishing borrowed of her eies the downe-cast looke of modestie. But we in the meane time far from louing her, and often assuring her, that we would not so recompence her husbandes sauing of our liues; to such a ridiculous degree of trusting her, she had brought him, that she caused him sende vs worde, that vpon our liues, we should doo whatsoeuer she com­maunded vs: good man, not knowing any other, but that all her pleasures bent to the preseruation of his e­state. But when that made vs rather pittie, then obey his folly, then fel she to seruile entreating vs, as though force could haue bene the schoole of Loue, or that an honest courage would not rather striue against, then yeelde to iniurie. All which yet could not make vs ac­cuse her, though it made vs almost pine awaie for spight, to loose any of our time in so troublesome an i­dlenesse.

But while we were thus full of wearinesse of what argument key no. 5 was past, and doubt of what was to follow, Loue (that I thinke in the course of my life hath a sporte sometimes[Page] to poison me with roses, sometimes to heale me with wormewood) brought forth a remedy vnto vs: which though it helped me out of that distres, alas the cōclu­sion was such, as I must euer while I liue, think it worse then a wracke, so to haue bene preserued. This King by this Queene had a sonne of tender age, but of great ex­pectation, brought vp in the hope of themselues, & al­ready acceptation of the inconstant people, as succes­sour of his fathers crowne: whereof he was as worthy, considering his partes, as vnworthie, in respect of the wrong was therby done against the most worthy Plan­gus: whose great desertes now either forgotten, or vn­gratefully remembred, all men set their sayles with the fauourable winde, which blewe on the fortune of this young Prince, perchaunce not in their harts, but surely not in their mouths, now giuing Plangus (who some yeares before was their only chāpion) the poore cōfort of calamitie, pittie. This youth therefore accounted Prince of that regiō, by name Palladius, did with vehe­ment affection loue a young Ladie, brought vp in his fathers court, called Zelmane, daughter to that mischie­uously vnhappie Prince Plexirtus (of whom already I haue, and sometimes must make, but neuer honorable mention) left there by her father, because of the intri­cate changeablenes of his estate; he by the motherside being halfe brother to this Queene Andromana, and therefore the willinger committing her to her care. But as Loue (alas) doth not alwaies reflect it selfe, so fel it out that this Zelmane, (though truely reason there was inough to loue Palladius) yet could not euer per­swade her harte to yeelde thereunto: with that paine to Palladius, as they feele, that feele an vnloued loue.[Page 194] Yet louing indeede, and therefore constant, he vsed still the intercession of diligēce and faith, euer hoping, because he would not put him selfe into that hell, to be hopelesse: vntill the time of our being come, and captiued there, brought foorth this ende, whiche truely deserues of me a further degree of sorrow then teares.

Such was therein my ill destinie, that this young argument key no. 6 Ladie Zelmane (like some vnwisely liberall, that more delight to giue presentes, then pay debtes) she chose (alas for the pittie) rather to bestowe her loue (so much vndeserued, as not desired) vpon me, then to re­cōpence him, whose loue (besides many other things) might seeme (euen in the court of Honour) iustly to claime it of her. But so it was (alas that so it was) where­by it came to passe, that (as nothing doth more natural­ly follow his cause, then care to preserue, and benefite doth follow vnfained affection) she felt with me, what I felte of my captiuitie, and streight laboured to re­dresse my paine, which was her paine: which she could do by no better meanes, then by vsing the helpe there­in of Palladius: who (true Louer) considering what, and not why, in all her commaundements; and indeed she concealing from him her affection (which she in­tituled compassion,) immediatly obeyed to imploy his vttermost credite to relieue vs: which though as great, as a beloued son with a mother, faulty otherwise, but not hard-harted toward him, yet it could not pre­uaile to procure vs libertie. Wherefore he sought to haue that by practise, which he could not by praier. And so being allowed often to visit vs (for indeed our restraints were more, or lesse, according as the ague of[Page] her passion was either in the fit, or intermission) he vsed the opportunitie of a fit time thus to deliuer vs.

CHAP. 21.

1 The cause of the Iberian yearely iustes. 2 Queene Helens prayses. 3 The prize borne by her Knights, which Palladius and the Princes set them to reuerse. 4 The inuentions and actions of seuen tilters. 5 Palladius and the Princes entry into the field, honour in it, and flight from it. 6 Andromanas pursuite of them 7 to the death of her sonne 8 and her selfe.

argument key no. 1 THe time of the maryinge that Queene was euery year, by the ex­treame loue of her husband, & the seruiceable loue of the Courtiers, made notable by some publike ho­nours, which indeede (as it were) proclaymed to the worlde, how deare she was to the people. A­mong other, none was either more gratefull to the be­holders, or more noble in it selfe, then iusts, both with sword and launce, mainteined for a seuen-night toge­ther: wherein that Nation dooth so excell, bothe for comelines and hablenes, that from neighbour-coun­tries they ordinarily come, some to striue, some to learne, and some to behold.

argument key no. 2 This day it happened that diuers famous Knights came thither frō the court of Helen, Queene of Corinth; a Ladie, whom Fame at that time was so desirous to honor, that she borrowed all mens mouthes to ioyne[Page 195] with the sounde of her Trumpet. For as her beautie hath wonne the prize from all women, that stande in degree of comparison (for as for the two sisters of Arcadia, they are farre beyond all conceipt of compa­rison) so hath her gouernment bene such, as hath bene no lesse beautifull to mens iudgements, then her beau­tie to the eiesight. For being brought by right of birth, a woman, a yong woman, a faire woman, to gouerne a people, in nature mutinously prowde, and alwaies be­fore so vsed to hard gouernours, as they knew not how to obey without the sworde were drawne. Yet could she for some yeares, so carry her selfe among them, that they found cause in the delicacie of her sex, of admira­tion, not of cōtempt: & which was notable, euen in the time that many countries were full of wars (which for old grudges to Corinth were thought still would con­clude there) yet so hādled she the matter, that the threa­tens euer smarted in the threatners; she vsing so straūge, and yet so well-succeeding a temper, that she made her people by peace, warlike; her courtiers by sports, lear­ned; her Ladies by Loue, chast. For by continuall mar­tiall exercises without bloud, she made them perfect in that bloudy art. Her sportes were such as caried riches of Knowledge vpō the streame of Delight: & such the behauiour both of her selfe, and her Ladies, as builded their chastitie, not vpon waywardnes, but by choice of worthines: So as it seemed, that court to haue bene the mariage place of Loue and Vertue, & that her selfe was a Diana apparelled in the garments of Venus. And this which Fame onely deliuered vnto me, (for yet I haue neuer seene her) I am the willinger to speake of to you, who (I knowe) knowe her better, being your neere[Page] neighbour, because you may see by her example (in her selfe wise, and of others beloued) that neither follie is the cause of vehement Loue, nor reproch the effect, For neuer (I thinke) was there any woman, that with more vnremoueable determinatiō gaue her self to the coūcell of Loue, after she had once set before her mind the worthines of your cousin Amphialus; & yet is nether her wisedome doubted of, nor honour blemished. For (O God) what doth better become wisdome, then to discerne, what is worthy the louing? what more agre­able to goodnes, then to loue it so discerned? and what to greatnesse of hart, then to be constant in it once lo­ued? But at that time, that Loue of hers was not so pu­blikely knowne, as the death of Philoxenus, and her search of Amphialus hath made it: but then seemed to haue such leasure to sende thither diuerse choyse Knights of her court, because they might bring her, at lest the knowledge, perchaunce the honour, of that Triumph.

argument key no. 3 Wherein so they behaued themselues as for three daies they caried the prize; which being come from so farre a place to disgrace her seruaunts, Palladius (who himselfe had neuer vsed armes) persuaded the Queene Andromana to be content (for the honour sake of her court) to suffer vs two to haue our horse and armour, that he with vs might vndertake the recouerie of their lost honour: which she graunted; taking our oth to go no further then her sonne, and neuer to abandon him. Which she did not more for sauing him, then kee­ping vs: and yet not satisfied with our oth, appointed a band of horsemen to haue eye, that we should not go beyond appointed limits. We were willing to gratifie[Page 196] the young Prince, who (we saw) loued vs. And so the fourth day of that exercise, we came into the fielde: where (I remember) the manner was, that the fore­noone they should run at tilt, one after the other: the afternoone in a broad field, in manner of a battell, till either the strangers, or that countrie Knights wan the field.

The first that ran was a braue Knight, whose deuise argument key no. 4 was to come in, all chayned with a Nymph leading him: his Impresa was [...]

Against him came forth an Ibe­rian whose manner of entring was, with bagpipes in steed of trumpets; a shepheards boy before him for a Page, and by him a dosen apparelled like shepherds for the fashion, though rich in stuffe, who caried his laun­ces, which though strong to giue a launcely blow in­deed, yet so were they couloured with hooks neere the mourn, that they pretily represēted shephooks. His own furniture was drest ouer with wooll, so enriched with Iewels artificially placed, that one would haue thought it a mariage betweene the lowest and the highest. His Impresa was a sheepe marked with pitch, with this word Spotted to be knowne. And because I may tell you out his conceipt (though that were not done, till the running for that time was ended) before the Ladies departed from the windowes, among them there was one (they say) that was the Star, wherby his course was only dire­cted. The shepherds attending vpō PHILISIDES went amōg thē, & fāg an eclogue; one of thē answering ano­ther, while the other shepheards pulling out recorders (which possest the place of pipes) accorded their mu­sick to the others voice. The Eclogue had great praise:[Page] I onely remember sixe verses, while hauing questioned one with the other, of their fellow-shepheards so daine growing a man of armes, and the cause of his so doing, they thus said.

ME thought some staues he mist: if so, not much amisse:
For where he most would hit, he euer yet did misse.
One said he brake acrosse; full well it so might be:
For neuer was there man more crossely crost then he.
But most cryed, O well broke: O foole full gaily blest:
Where failing is a shame, and breaking is his best.

Thus I haue digrest, because his maner liked me wel: But when he began to run against LElius, it had neere growne (though great loue had euer bene betwixt them) to a quarrell. For Philisides breaking his staues with great commendation, Lelius (who was knowne to be second to none in the perfection of that Art) ranne euer ouer his head, but so finely to the skilfull eyes, that one might well see, he shewed more knowledge in mis­sing, then others did in hitting. For with so gallanta grace his staffe came swimming close ouer the crest of the Helmet, as if he would represent the kisse, and not the stroke of Mars. But Philisides was much moued with it, while he thought Lelius would shew a contempt of his youth: till Lelius (who therefore would satisfie him, because he was his friend) made him know, that to such bondage he was for so many courses tyed by her, whose disgraces to him were graced by her excellency, and whose iniuries he could neuer otherwise returne, then honours.

But so by Lelius willing-missing was the odds of the[Page 197] Iberian side, and continued so in the next by the excel­lent rūning of a Knight, though fostred so by the Muses, as many times the verie rustick people left both their delights and profites to harken to his songs, yet could he so well perfourme all armed sports, as if he had neuer had any other pen, then a Launce in his hand. He came in like a wild man; but such a wildnes, as shewed his eye-sight had tamed him, full of withered leaues, which though they fell not, still threatned falling. His Impresa was, a mill-horse still bound to goe in one circle; with this word, Data fata sequutus. But after him the Corinthi­an Knights absolutely preuailed, especially a great no­ble man of Corinth; whose deuife was to come without any deuise, all in white like a new knight, as indeed he was; but so new, as his newnes shamed most of the o­thers long exercise. Then another from whose tent I remember a birde was made flie, with such art to carry a written embassage among the Ladies, that one might say, If a liue bird, how so taught? if a dead bird, how so made? Then he, who hidden, man and horse in a great figure liuely representing the Phoenix: the fire tooke so artificially, as it consumed the birde, and left him to rise as it were, out of the ashes thereof. Against whom was the fine frosen Knight, frosen in despaire; but his armor so naturally representing Ice, and all his furniture so liuely answering therto, as yet did I neuer see any thing that pleased me better.

But the delight of those pleasing sights haue carried argument key no. 5 me too farre in an vnnecessary discourse. Let it then suffice (most excellent Ladie) that you know the Corinthi­ans that morning in the exercise (as they had done the dayes before) had the better; Palladius neither suffring[Page] vs, nor himselfe to take in hand that partie till the afternoone; when we were to fight in troopes, not differing otherwise from earnest, but that the sharpenesse of the weapons was taken away. But in the triall Palladius (e­specially led by Musidorus, and somewhat aided by me) himselfe truely behauing himselfe nothing like a be­ginner, brought the honor to rest it selfe that night of the Iberian side: And the next day, both morning, and after-noone being kept by our party, He (that saw the time fitte for that deliuerie he intended) called vnto vs to follow him; which we both bound by oth, and wil­ling by good-wil, obeyed: and so the gard not daring to interrupt vs (he commanding passage) we went after him vpon the spur to a little house in a forrest neere by: which he thought would be the fittest resting place, till we might go further from his mothers fury, whereat he was no lesse angry, & ashamed, then desirous to obay Zelmane.

argument key no. 6 But his mother (as I learned since) vnderstanding by the gard her sonnes conuaying vs away (forgetting her greatnes, & resining modesty to more quiet thoughts) flew out from her place, and cried to be accompanied, for she her-selfe would follow vs. But what she did (be­ing rather with vehemency of passion, then conduct of reason) made her stumble while she ran, & by her owne confusion hinder her owne desires. For so impatiently she commanded, as a good while no body knew what she cōmanded; so as we had gotten so far the start, as to be alredy past the confines of her kingdome before she ouertooke vs: and ouertake vs she did in the kingdome of Bythinia, not regarding shame, or daunger of hauing entred into anothers dominions: but (hauing with her[Page 198] about a three score hors-men) streight commaunded to take vs aliue, and not to regard her sonnes threatening therein: which they attempted to do, first by speach, & then by force. But neither liking their eloquence, nor fearing their might, we esteemed few swordes in a iust defence, able to resist any vniust affaulters. And so Mu­sidorus incredible valour (beating downe all lets) made both me, and Palladius, so good way, that we had little to doo to ouercome weake wrong.

And now had the victorie in effect without bloud,argument key no. 7 when Palladius (heated with the fight, and angrie with his mothers fault) so pursued our assaylers, that one of them (who as I heard since had before our comming bene a speciall minion of Andromanas, and hated vs for hauing dispossest him of her hart) taking him to be one of vs, with a traiterous blow slew his yoūg Prince: who falling downe before our eyes, whom he specially had deliuered, iudge (sweetest Lady) whether anger might not be called iustice in such a case: once, so it wroght in vs, that many of his subiects bodies we left there dead, to wait on him more faithfully to the other world.

All this while disdaine, strengthened by the furie of argument key no. 8 a furious loue, made Andromana stay to the last of the combat: & whē she saw vs light down, to see what help we might do to the helplesse Palladius, she came rūning madly vnto vs, then no lesse threatning, when she had no more power to hurt. But when she perceiued it was her onely sonne that lay hurt, and that his hurt was so deadly, as that alredy his life had loste the vse of the reasonable, and almost sensible part; then onely did misfortune lay his owne ouglinesse vpon his faulte, and make her see what she had done, and to what she was come: especiallie, finding in vs rather detestation[Page] then pittie (considering the losse of that young Prince) and resolution presently to depart, which stil she labou­red to stay. But depriued of all comfort, with eyes full of death, she ranne to her sonnes dagger, and before we were aware of it (who else could haue stayed it) strake her selfe a mortall wound. But then her loue, though not her person, awaked pittie in vs, and I went to her, while Musidorus labored about Palladius. But the wound was past the cure of a better surge on then my selfe, so as I could but receaue some few of her dying words; which were cursings of her ill set affection, and wishing vnto me many crosses & mischances in my loue, whē ­soeuer I should loue, wherin I feare, and only feare that her prayer is from aboue granted. But the noise of this fight, & issue thereof being blazed by the country peo­ple to some noble-mē there-abouts, they came thither, and finding the wrong offered vs, let vs go on our iour­ney, we hauing recommended those royal bodies vnto thē to be conueyed to the King of Iberia. With that Phi­loclea, seeing the teares stand in his eyes with remem­brance of Palladius, but much more of that which ther­vpon grew, she would needs drinke a kisse from those eyes, and he sucke another from her lippes; whereat she blushed, & yet kissed him againe to hide her blushing. Which had almost brought Pyrocles into another dis­course, but that she with so sweete a rigor forbad him, that he durst not rebell, though he found it a great war to keepe that peace, but was faine to go on his storie: for so she absolutely badde him, and he durst not know how to disobey.

CHAP. 22.

1 A new complaint of Pamphilus new change, 2 to a grace­lesse curtisan. 3 Zelmane loues, and as a Page serues Py­rocles. 4 The two Princes policie to reconcile two warring brothers. 5 The vnbrotherly braue combat of Tydeus and Telenor. 6 Plexirtus his viperine vnkindnes to the kin­dest Leonatus. 7 His conquest by the two brothers, 8 and his dogtrick to destroy them by themselues. 9 The regreete of the dying brothers.

SO (said he) parting from that place argument key no. 1 before the Sunne had much abased himselfe of his greatest height, we sawe sitting vpon the drie sandes (which yeelded at that time a verie hotte reflection) a faire Gentlewo­man, whose gesture accused her of much sorow, & euery way shewed she cared not what paine she put her body to, since the better parte (her minde) was laide vnder so much ago­nie: and so was she dulled withall, that we could come so neare, as to heare her speeches, and yet she not per­ceiue the hearers of her lamentation. But wel we might vnderstand her at times, say, Thou doost kill me with thy vnkind falshood: and, It greeues me not to die, but it greeues me that thou art the murtherer: neither doth mine owne paine so much vexe me, as thy errour. For God knowes, it would not trouble me to be slaine for thee, but much it tormēts me to be slain by thee. Thou art vntrue, Pamphilus, thou art vntrue, and woe is me[Page] therefore. How oft didst thou sweare vnto me, that the Sun should loose his light, and the rocks runne vp and down like little kiddes, before thou wouldst falsifie thy faith to me? Sunne therefore put out thy shining, & rockes runne mad for sorrow, for Pamphilus is false. But alas, the Sun keepes his light, though thy faith be darck­ned; the rockes stand still, though thou change like the wethercocke. O foole that I am, that thought I coulde graspe water, and binde the winde. I might well haue knowē thee by others, but I would not; & rather wished to learne poison by drinking it my selfe, while my loue helped thy wordes to deceiue me. Well, yet I would thou hadst made a better choise, when thou didst for­sake thy vnfortunate Leucippe. But it is no matter, Baccha (thy new mistres) will reuenge my wrongs. But do not Baccha, let Pamphilus liue happie, though I die.

argument key no. 2 And much more to such like phrase she spake, but that I (who had occasion to know some-thing of that Pamphilus) stept to comfort her: & though I could not doo that, yet I gotte thus much knowledge of her, that this being the same Leucippe, to whom the vnconstante Pāphilus had betrothed himselfe, which had moued the other Ladies to such indignation as I tolde you: nether her woorthinesse (which in truthe was great) nor his owne suffering for her (which is woont to endeare af­fection) could fetter his ficklenes, but that before his mariage-day appointed, he had taken to wife that Bac­cha, of whom she complayned; one, that in diuers pla­ces I had heard before blazed, as the most impudentlie vnchaste woman of all Asia; and withall, of such an im­periousnes therein, that she would not stick to employ them (whom she made vnhappie with her fauour) to[Page 200] draw more companions of their follie: in the multi­tude of whom she did no lesse glorie, then a Captaine would doo, of being followed by braue souldiers: wai­wardly proud; and therefore bold, because extreamely faultie: and yet hauing no good thing to redeeme both these, and other vnlouely parts, but a little beautie, dis­graced with wandring eyes, and vnwaied speeches; yet had Pamphilus (for her) left Leucippe, and withall, left his faith: Leucippe, of whom one looke (in a cleere iudge­ment) would haue bene more acceptable, then all her kindenesses so prodigallie bestowed. For my selfe, the remembrance of his crueltie to Dido, ioyned to this, stirred me to seeke fome reuenge vpon him, but that I thought, it shoulde be a gayne to him to lose his life, being so matched: and therefore (leauing him to be punished by his owne election) we conueyed Leu­cippe to a house thereby, dedicated to Vestall Nunnes, where she resolued to spende all her yeares (which her youth promised shoulde be many) in bewayling the wrong, and yet praying for the wrong-dooer.

But the next morning, we (hauing striuen with the argument key no. 3 Sunnes earlines) were scarcely beyond the prospect of the high turrets of that building, when there ouertoke vs a young Gentleman, for so he seemed to vs, but in­deede (sweete Ladie) it was the faire Zelmane, Plexirtus daughter; whom vnconsulting affection (vnfortunate­ly borne to me-wards) had made borrowe so much of her naturall modestie, as to leaue her more-decent ray­ments, and taking occasion of Andromanas tumultuous pursuing vs, had apparrelled her selfe like a Page, with a pittifull crueltie cutting of her golden haire, leauing nothing, but the short curles, to couer that noble head,[Page] but that she ware vpon it a faire head-peece, a shielde at her back, and a launce in her hand, els disarmed. Her apparrell of white, wrought vpon with broken knots, her horse, faire & lustie, which she rid so, as might shew a fearefull boldnes, daring to doo that, which she knew that she knew not how to doo: and the sweetnes of her countenance did giue such a grace to what she did, that it did make hansome the vnhansomnes, and make the eye force the minde to beleeue, that there was a praise in that vnskilfulnesse. But she straight approached me, and with fewe words (which borowed the help of her countenance to make themselues vnderstood) she desi­red me to accept her in my seruice; telling me, she was a noble-mans sonne of Iberia, her name Daiphantus, who hauing seene what I had done in that court, had stolne from her father, to follow me. I enquired the particula­rities of the maner of Andromanas following me, which by her I vnderstood, she hiding nothing (but her sexe) from me. And still me thought I had seen that face, but the great alteration of her fortune, made her far distant from my memorie: but liking very well the yong Gen­tleman, (such I tooke her to be) admitted this Daiphan­tus about me: who well shewed, there is no seruice like his, that serues because he loues. For, though borne of Princes bloud, brought vp with tenderest education, vnapt to seruice (because a woman) & full of thoughts (because in a strange estate;) yet Loue enioyned such diligence, that no apprentise, no, no bondslaue could e­uer be by feare more readie at all commaundementes, then that yong Princesse was. How often (alas) did her eyes say vnto me, that they loued? and yet, I (not loo­king for such a matter) had not my conceipt open, to[Page 201] vnderstand them. How oftē would she come creeping to me, betweene gladnes to be neere me, & feare to of­fend me? Truly I remember, that then I maruailing, to see her receiue my cōmandements with sighes, & yet do them with cheerefulnes: sometimes answering me in such riddles, as I then thought childish in experiēce: but since returning to my remēbrance, they haue come more neere vnto my knowledge: & pardon me (onely deare Lady) that I vse many words: for her affection to me deserues of me an affectionate speach.

In such sort did she serue me in that kingdom of Bythi­nia, argument key no. 4 for two moneths space. In which time we brought to good end, a cruell warre long maintained betweene the King of Bythinia and his brother. For my excellent cousin, and I (diuiding our selues to either side) found meanes (after some triall we had made of our selues) to get such credite with them, as we brought them to as great peace betweene thēselues, as loue towards vs, for hauing made the peace. Which done, we intended to returne through the Kingdome of Galatia, towarde Thrace, to ease the care of our father and mother, who (we were sure) first with the shipwracke; and then with the other daungers we dayly past, should haue litle rest in their thoughts, till they saw vs.

But we were not entred into that Kingdome, whē by argument key no. 5 the noise of a great sight, we were guided to a pleasaunt valey, which like one of those Circusses, which in great cities some-where doth giue a pleasant spectacle of rū ­ning horses; so of either side stretching it selfe in a nar­row length was it hemd in by wooddy hilles; as if in­deed Nature had meant therein to make a place for be­holders. And there we behelde one of the cruellest[Page] fights betweene two Knights, that euer hath adorned the martial storie. So as I must cōfesse, a while we stood wondring, another while delighted with the rare bra­uery therof; till seing such streames of bloud, as threat­ned a drowning of life, we galloped towarde them to part them. But we were preuented by a dosen armed Knights, or rather villains, who vsing this time of their extreame feeblenesse, all together set vpon them. But common daunger brake of particular discorde, so that (though with a dying weakenes) with a liuely courage they resisted, and by our help draue away, or slue those murdering attempters: among whom we hapt to take aliue the principall. But going to disarme those two excellent Knights, we found with no lesse wonder to vs, then astonishment to themselues, that they were the two valiaunt, and indeede famous Brothers, Ty­deus and Telenor; whose aduenture (as afterwarde we made that vngratious wretch confesse) had thus fal­len out.

argument key no. 6 After the noble Prince Leonatus had by his fathers death succeeded in the kingdome of Galatia, he (for­getting all former iniuries) had receiued that naugh­tie Plexirtus into a streight degree of fauour, his good­nesse being as apt to be deceiued, as the others crafte was to deceiue. Till by plaine proofe finding, that the vngratefull man went about to poyson him, yet would not suffer his kindnesse to be ouercome, not by iustice it selfe: but calling him to him, vsed wordes to this pur­pose. Plexirtus (said he) this wickednesse is founde by thee. No good deedes of mine haue bene able to keepe it downe in thee. All men counsell me to take a­way thy life, likely to bring foorth nothing, but as[Page 202] daungerous, as wicked effects. But I cannot finde it in my harte, remembring what fathers sonne thou arte. But since it is the violence of ambition, which per­chaunce puls thee from thine owne iudgement, I will see, whether the satisfying that, may quiet the ill wor­king of thy spirites. Not farre hence is the great cittie of Trebisonde; which, with the territorie about it, aun­ciently pertained vnto this crowne, now vniustly pos­sessed, and as vniustly abused by those, who haue nei­ther title to holde it, nor vertue to vse it. To the con­quest of that for thy selfe I will lende thee force, and giue thee my right. Go therfore, and with lesse vnna­turalnesse glut thy ambition there; and that done, if it be possible, learne vertue.

Plexirtus, mingling forsworne excuses with false­meant argument key no. 7 promises, gladly embraced the offer: and ha­stilie sending backe for those two Brothers (who at that time were with vs succouring the gratious Queen Erona) by their vertue chiefly (if not onely) obtey­ned the conquest of that goodly dominion. Which indeede done by them, gaue them such an authoritie, that though he raigned, they in effect ruled, most men honouring them, because they onely deserued honour; and many, thinking therein to please Plexir­tus, considering how much he was bound vnto them: while they likewise (with a certaine sincere bolde­nesse of selfe-warranting friendship) accepted all o­penly and plainely, thinking nothing should euer by Plexirtus be thought too much in them, since all they were, was his.

But he (who by the rules of his own mind, could cō ­strue argument key no. 8 no other end of mēs doings, but self seking) sodēly[Page] feared what they could doo; and as sodainely suspected, what they would doo, and as sodainely hated them, as hauing both might, and minde to doo. But dreading their power, standing so strongly in their owne valour, & others affection, he durst not take open way against them: and as harde it was to take a secrete, they being so continually followed by the best, & eue­ry way hablest of that region: and therfore vsed this di­uelish sleight (which I wil tel you) not doubting (most wicked man) to turne their owne friēdship toward him to their owne destruction. He, (knowing that they wel knew, there was no friendship betweene him and the new King of Pontus, neuer since he succoured Leona­tus and vs, to his ouerthrow) gaue them to vnderstand that of late there had passed secrete defiance betweene them, to meete priuately at a place apointed. Which though not so fit a thing for men of their greatnes, yet was his honour so engaged, as he could not go backe. Yet faining to find himself weake by some counterfait infirmitie, the day drawing neere, he requested each of them to go in his stead; making either of thē sweare, to keep the matter secret, euer ech frō other, deliuering the selfe same particularities to both, but that he told Tyde­us, the King would meet him in a blew armour; & Telc­nor, that it was a black armour: & with wicked subtiltie (as if it had bene so apointed) caused Tydeus to take a black armour, & Telenor a blew; appointing them waies how to go, so as he knew they should not meet, til they came to the place appointed, where each had promi­sed to keep silence, lest the King should discouer it was not Plexirtus: and there in await had he laied these mur­therers, that who ouerliued the other, should by them[Page 203] be dispatched: he not daring trust more then those, with that enterprise, and yet thinking them too few, till themselues by themselues were weakened.

This we learned chiefly, by the chiefe of those way­beaters,argument key no. 9 after the death of those worthie brothers, whose loue was no lesse, then their valour: but well we might finde much thereof by their pitifull lamenta­tion, when they knew their mismeeting, and saw each other (in despite of the Surgerie we could doo vnto them) striuing who should runne fastest to the goale of death: each bewailing the other, and more dying in the other, then in himselfe: cursing their owne hands for doing, and their breastes for not sooner suffering: detesting their vnfortunately-spent time in hauing ser­ued so vngrateful a Tyraunt: and accusing their folly in hauing beleeued, he could faithfully loue, who did not loue faithfulnes: wishing vs to take heed, how we pla­ced our good wil vpon any other ground, then proofe of vertue: since length of acquaintance, mutuall secre­cies, nor height of benefits could binde a sauage harte; no man being good to other, that is not good in him­self. Then (while any hope was) beseeching vs to leaue the cure of him that besought, and onely looke to the other. But when they found by themselues, and vs, no possibilitie, they desired to be ioined; and so embracing and crauing that pardon each of other, which they de­nied to themselues, they gaue vs a most sorrowfull spe­ctacle of their death; leauing fewe in the world behind them, their matches in any thing, if they had soone i­nough knowne the ground and limits of friendship. But with wofull hartes, we caused those bodies to be conueyed to the nexte towne of Bythinia, where we[Page] learning thus much (as I haue tolde you) caused the wicked Historian to cōclude his history, with his owne well-deserued death.

CHAP. 23.

1 Zelmanes griefe for Plexirtus fault. 2 Otaues, and his Gyants warre on Pontus. 3 Plexirtus endaungered, needes helpe of the dead brothers. 4 Zelmane thought-sicke, vnmaskes her selfe. 5 Her dying teares 6 and last requestes. 7 Musidorus to Pontus, Pyrocles hardly partes to saue Plexirtus. 8 The sourse and course of his deaths-doome, 9 stayed by Pyrocles. 10 The combat of Pontus well ended. 11 The Asian Princes meeting, to honour the two Greekes.

argument key no. 1 BVt then (I must tell you) I found such wofull countenances in Dai­phantus, that I could not but much maruaile (finding them continew beyond the first assault of pittie) how the cause of strangers (for fur­ther I did not conceiue) could so deepely pearce. But the truth in­deed is, that partly with the shame & sorrow she tooke of her fathers faultinesse, partly with the feare, that the hate I cōceiued against him, would vtterly disgrace her in my opinion, whensoeuer I should know her, so ve­hemently perplexed her, that her fayre colour decaied; and dayly, and hastily grew into the very extreme wor­king of sorowfulnesse: which oft I sought to learne, & helpe. But she, as fearefull as louing, still concealed it;[Page 204] and so decaying still more and more, in the excellen­cie of her fairenesse, but that whatsoeuer weakenesse took away, pitie seemed to adde: yet still she forced her selfe to waite on me, with such care and diligence, as might well shew had bene taught in no other schoole, but Loue.

While we returning againe to embarke our selues for argument key no. 2 Greece, vnderstood that the mighty Otaues (brother to Barzanes slaine by Musidorus, in the battaile of the six Princes) had entred vpō the kingdome of Pontus, part­ly vpon the pretences he had to the crowne, but princi­pally, because he would reuenge vpon him (whom he knew we loued) the losse of his brother: thincking (as indeede he had cause) that wheresoeuer we were, hea­ring of his extremitie, we would come to relieue him; in spite where of he doubted not to preuaile, not onely vpon the confidence of his owne vertue and power, but especially because he had in his cōpany two migh­ty Giants, sonnes to a couple whom we flue in the same realme: they hauing bene absent at their fathers death, and now returned, willingly entered into his seruice, hating (more then he) both vs, and that King of Pon­tus. We therefore withall speede went thetherwarde, but by the way this fell out, which whensoeuer I re­member without sorrow, I must forget withall, all hu­manitie.

Poore Daiphantus fell extreme sick, yet would needs argument key no. 3 conquere the delicacie of her constitution, and force her selfe to waite on me: till one day going towarde Pontus, we met one, who in great hast went seeking for Tydeus & Telenor, whose death as yet was not knowne vnto the messenger; who (being their seruaunt and[Page] knowing how deerely they loued Plexirtus) brought them word, how since their departing, Plexirtus was in prent daunger of a cruel death, if by the valiantnesse of one of the best Knightes of the world, he were not reskewed: we enquired no further of the matter (be­ing glad he should now to his losse finde what an vn­profitable treason it had bene vnto him, to dismember himselfe of two such friendes) and so let the messenger part, not sticking to make him know his masters de­struction, by the falshood of Plexirtus.

argument key no. 4 But the griefe of that (finding a bodie alreadie brought to the last degree of weakenesse) so ouerwhel­med the little remnant of the spirits left in Daiphantus, that she fell sodainely into deadly soundings; neuer comming to herselfe, but that withall she returned to make most pittifull lamentations; most straunge vn­to vs, because we were farre from ghessing the ground thereof. But finding her sicknesse such, as beganne to print death in her eyes, we made al hast possible to con­uey her to the next towne: but before we could lay her on a bed, both we, & she might find in herselfe, that the harbinger of ouer-hastie death, had prepared his lodging in that daintie body, which she vndoubtedly feeling, with a weake chearefulnes, shewed cōfort ther­in; and then desiring vs both to come neere her, & that no bodie els might be present; with pale, and yet (euen in palenes) louely lippes, Now or neuer, and neuer in­deed, but now it is time for me (said she) to speake: and I thanke death which gaue me leaue to discouer that, the suppressing whereof perchance hath bene the shar­pest spur, that hath hasted my race to this end. Know then my Lords, and especially you my Lord and ma­ster,[Page 205] Pyrocles, that your page Daiphantus is the vnfortunat Zelmane, who for your sake caused my (as vnfortunate) louer, and cosen, Palladius, to leaue his fathers court, and cōsequently, both him & my Aunt his mother, to loose their liues. For your sake my selfe haue become, of a Princesse a Page: and for your sake haue put off the apparell of a woman, & (if you iudge not more merci­fully) modestie. We were amazed at her speach, and thē had (as it were) new eyes giuē vs to perceue that which before had bene a present strāger to our minds. For in­deed, we forthwith knew it to be the face of Zelmane, whō before we had knowen in the court of Iberia. And sorrow and pittie laying her paine vpon me, I comfor­ted her the best I could by the tendernes of good-will, pretending indeed better hope then I had of her reco­uery.

But she that had inward ambassadors from the tyrāt argument key no. 5 that should shortly oppresse her. No, my deere master (said she) I neither hope nor desire to liue. I know you would neuer haue loued me (& with that she wept) nor, alas, had it bene reason you should, considering manie wayes my vnworthines. It sufficeth me that the strange course I haue takē, shall to your remembrance, witnesse my loue: and yet this breaking of my harte, before I would discouer my paine, will make you (I hope) think I was not altogether vnmodest. Thinke of me so, deare Master, and that thought shal be my life: and with that, languishingly looking vpon me; And I pray you (said she) euen by these dying eies of mine (which are onely sorrie to dye, because they shall lose your sight) and by these pouled lockes of mine (which while they were long, were the ornament of my sex, now in their short[Page] curles, the testimonie of my seruitude) and by the ser­uice I haue done you (which God knowes hath beene full of loue) thinke of me after my death with kindnes, though ye cannot with loue. And whensoeuer ye shall make any other Ladie happie with your placed affectiō, if you tell her my folly, I pray you speake of it, not with scorne, but with pitie. I assure you (deare Princesse of my life, for how could it be otherwise?) her words and her manners, with the liuely consideration of her loue, so pearced me, that I, though I had diuerse griefes before, yet me thought I neuer felt till then, how much sorow enfeebleth all resolution. For I coulde not chuse, but yeeld to the weakenes of abundant weeping; in trueth with such griefe, that I could willingly at that time haue chaunged liues with her.

argument key no. 6 But when she saw my teares, O God (said she) howe largely am I recompenced for my losses? why then (said shee) I may take boldnesse to make some requests vnto you. I besought her to doo, vowing the performance, though my life were the price therof. She shewed great ioy: The first (said she) is this, that you will pardon my father the displeasure you haue iustly conceiued against him, and for this once succour, him out of the daunger wherin he is: I hope he will amende: and I pray you, whensoeuer you remember him to be the faultie Plexirtus, remember withall that he is Zelmanes father. The se­cond is, that when you come into Greece, you will take vnto your selfe this name (though vnlucky) of Daiphan­tus, and vouchsafe to be called by it: for so shal I be sure, you shall haue cause to remember me: and let it please your noble cousin to be called Falladius, that I doo that right to that poore Prince, that his name may yet liue[Page 206] vpon the earth in so excellent a person: and so betwene you, I trust sometimes your vnluckie page shall be (per­haps with a sigh) mencioned. Lastly, let me be buried here obscurely, not suffering my friends to knowe my fortune, till (when you are safely returned to your own countrie) you cause my bones to be conueied thither, and laid (I beseech you) in some place, where yourselfe vouchsafe sometimes to resort. Alas, small petitions for such a suter; which yet she so earnestly craued, that I was faine to sweare the accomplishment. And then kissing me, & often desiring me not to condemne her of light­nesse, in mine armes she deliuered her pure soule to the purest place: leauing me as full of agonie, as kindnes, pi­tie, and sorow could make an honest harte. For I must confesse for true, that if my starres had not wholy reser­ued me for you, there els perhaps I might haue loued, & (which had bene most strange) begun my loue after death: whereof let it be the lesse maruaile, because som­what shee did resemble you: though as farre short of your perfectiō, as her selfe dying, was of her flourishing: yet somthing there was, which (when I saw a picture of yours) brought againe her figure into my remēbrance, and made my harte as apte to receiue the wounde, as the power of your beauty with vnresistable force to pearce.

But we in wofull (& yet priuat) manner burying her,argument key no. 7 performed her commandement: & then enquiring of her fathers estate, certainly learned that he was present­lie to be succoured, or by death to passe the neede of succour.argument key no. 8 Therfore we determined to diuide our selues; I, according to my vowe, to helpe him, and Musidorus toward the King of Pontus, who stood in no lesse need[Page] then immediate succour, and euen readie to depart one from the other, there came a messenger from him, who after some enquirie found vs, giuing vs to vnderstand, that he trusting vpon vs two, had apointed the combat betweene him & vs, against Otaues, and the two Gyants. Now the day was so accorded, as it was impossible for me both to succour Plexirtus, & be there, where my ho­nour was not onely gaged so far, but (by the straunge working of vniust fortune) I was to leaue the standing by Musidorus, whom better then my selfe I loued, to go saue him whom for iust causes I hated. But my promise giuen, & giuen to Zelmane, & to Zelmane dying, preuai­led more with me, then my friendship to Musidorus: though certainely I may affirme, nothing had so great rule in my thoughts, as that. But my promise caried me the easier, because Musidorus himselfe would not suffer me to breake it. And so with heauy mindes (more care­ful each of others successe, thē of our owne) we parted; I towarde the place, where I vnderstood Plexirtus was prisoner to an auncient Knight, absolutely gouerning a goodly Castle, with a large territory about it, whereof he acknowledged no other soueraigne, but himselfe: whose hate to Plexirtus, grew for a kinsman of his, whō he malitiously had murdered, because in the time that he raigned in Galatia, he foūd him apt to practise for the restoring of his vertuous brother Leonatus. This old Knight, still thirsting for reuenge, vsed (as the way to it) a pollicie, which this occasion I will tell you, pre­pared for him. Plexirtus in his youth had maried Zel­manes mother, who dying of that only child-birth, he a widdower, and not yet a King, haunted the Court of Armenia; where (as he was comming to winne fa­uour)[Page 207] he obteined great good liking of Artaxia, which he pursued, till (being called home by his father) he falsly got his fathers kingdome; and then neglected his former loue: till throwen out of that (by our meanes) before he was deeply rooted in it, and by and by again placed in Trebisonde, vnderstanding that Artaxia by her brothers death was become Queen of Armenia, he was hotter then euer, in that pursuit, which being vnder­stood by this olde Knight, he forged such a letter, as might be written from Artaxia, entreating his present (but very priuie) repaire thether, giuing him faithfull promise of presente mariage: a thing farre from her thought, hauing faithfully, and publiquely protested, that she would neuer marrie any, but some such Prince who woulde giue sure proofe, that by his meanes we were destroyed. But he (no more wittie to frame, then blinde to iudge hopes) bitte hastely at the baite, and in priuate maner poasted toward her, but by the way he was met by this Knight, far better accompanied, who quickly laid holde of him, & condemned him to death, cruell inough, if any thing may be both cruell and iust. For he caused him to be kept in a miserable prison, till a day appointed, at which time he would deliuer him to be deuoured by a monstrous beast, of most vgly shape, armed like a Rhinoceros, as strong as an Elephant, as fierce as a Lion, as nimble as a Leopard, and as cruell as a Tigre: whom he hauing kept in a strong place, from the first youth of it, now thought no fitter match, then such a beastly monster with a monstrous Tyrant: pro­claiming yet withall, that if any so well loued him, as to venture their liues against this beast, for him, if they o­uercame, he should be saued: not caring how many[Page] they were (such confidence he had in the monsters strength) but especially hoping to entrappe therby the great courages of Tydeus and Telenor, whom he no lesse hated, because they had bene principall instruments of the others power.

argument key no. 9 I dare say, if Zelmane had knowen what daunger I should haue passed, she would rather haue let her fa­ther perishe, then me to haue bidden that aduenture. But my word was past, and truely, the hardnes of the enterprise, was not so much a bitte, as a spurre vnto me; knowing well, that the iorney of high honor lies not in plaine wayes. Therefore, going thether, and taking sufficient securitie, that Plexirtus should be deliuered if I were victorious, I vndertooke the combatte: and (to make shorte, excellent Ladie, and not trouble your eares with recounting a terrible matter) so was my weakenes blessed from aboue, that without dangerous wounds I flewe that monster, which hundreds durste not attempt: to so great admiration of many (who from a safe place might looke on) that there was order giuen, to haue the fight, both by sculpture and picture, celebrated in most parts of Asia. And the olde noble­man so well liked me, that he loued me; onely beway­ling, my vertue had beene imployed to saue a worse monster then I killed: whom yet (according to faith gi­uen) he deliuered, and accompanied me to the king­dome of Pontus, whether I would needes in all speede go, to see whether it were possible for me (if perchance the day had bene delaied) to come to the combat. But that (before I came) had bene thus finished.

argument key no. 10 The vertuous Leonatus vnderstanding two so good friends of his were to be in that danger, would perforce[Page 208] be one him selfe: where he did valiantly, and so did the King of Pontus. But the truthe is, that both they being sore hurt, the incomparable Musidorus finished the combat by the death of both the Giants, and the ta­king of Otaues prisoner. To whom as he gaue his life, so he gotte a noble friend: for so he gaue his worde to be, and he is well knowen to thinke him selfe greater in be­ing subiect to that, then in the greatnes of his principa­litie.

But thither (vnderstanding of our being there)argument key no. 11 flocked great multitudes of many great persons, and e­uen of Princes; especially those, whom we had made beholding vnto vs: as, the Kings of Phrygia, Bythinia, with those two hurte, of Pontus and Galatia, and Otaues the prisoner, by Musidorus set free; and thither came Plexirtus of Trebisonde, and Antiphilus, then King of Lycia; with as many mo great Princes, drawen ether by our reputation, or by willingnes to acknowledge them selues obliged vnto vs, for what we had done for the others. So as in those partes of the world, I thinke, in many hundreds of yeares, there was not seene so royall an assemblie: where nothing was let passe to doo vs the highest honors, which such persons (who might com­maund both purses and inuentions) could perfourme. All from all sides bringing vnto vs right royall presents (which we to auoide both vnkindnes, and importuni­tie, liberally receiued,) & not content therewith, would needes accept, as from vs, their crownes, and acknow­ledge to hold them of vs: with many other excessiue honors, which would not suffer the measure of this short leisure to describe vnto you.

CHAP. 24.

1 The causes and prouisions of the Princes embarking for Ar­cadia. 2 Plexirtus his treason against them disclosed by one, 3 attempted by another of his ministers. 4 Sedition and slaughter in the shippe about it. 5 Their shipwrack by fire. 6 Pyrocles fight with the Captaine, and escape from sea. 7 The amarous concluding the olde, and beginning a newe storie, both broken of by Miso.

Bvt wee quickly aweary thereof, hasted to Greece-ward, led thither partly with the desire of our pa­rents, but hastened principally, be­cause I vnderstoode that Anaxius with open mouth of defamation had gone thither to seeke mee, and was nowe come to Peloponnesus where from Court to Court he made enquyrie of me, doing yet himselfe so noble deedes, as might hap to aucthorize an ill opinion of me.argument key no. 1 We therefore fuffred but short delayes, desiring to take this countrey in our way, so renowmed ouer the worlde, that no Prince coulde pretend height, nor begger lownesse, to barre him from the sound thereof: renowmed indeede, not so much for the ancient prayses attributed thereunto, as for the hauing in it Argalus and Amphialus (two knights of such rare prowes, as we desired especially to know) and yet by farre, not so much for that, as with­out suffering of comparison for the beautie of you and your sister, which makes all indifferent iudges, that[Page 209] speake thereof, account this countrie as a temple of deities. But these causes indeed mouing vs to come by this land, we embarked our selues in the next porte, whether all those Princes (sauing Antiphilus, who retur­ned, as he pretended, not able to tarry long from Ero­na) conueied vs. And there found we a ship most royal­ly furnished by Plexirtus, who made all thinges so pro­per (as well for our defence, as ease) that all the other Princes greatly commended him for it: who (seeming a quite altered man) had nothing but repētance in his eies, friendship in his gesture, & vertue in his mouth: so that we who had promised the sweete Zelmanc to par­don him, now not onely forgaue, but began to fauour; perswading our selues with a youthfull credulitie, that perchance things were not so euil as we tooke them, & as it were desiring our owne memorie, that it might be so. But so were we licensed from those Princes, truly not without teares, especially of the vertuous Leonatus, who with the king of Pōtus, would haue come with vs, but that we (in respect of the ones young wife, & both their new settled kingdomes) would not suffer it. Then would they haue sent whole fleets to guard vs: but we, that desired to passe secretely into Greece, made them leaue that motion, when they found that more ships, then one, would be displeasing vnto vs. But so cōmit­ting our selues to the vncertaine discretiō of the wind, we (then determining as soone as we came to Greece, to take the names of Daiphantus and Palladius, as well for our owne promise to Zelmane, as because we desi­red to come vnknowne into Greece) left the Asian shore full of Princely persons, who euen vpon their knees, recommended our safeties to the deuotion of[Page] their chiefe desires: among whom none had bene so officious (though I dare affirme, all quite contrarie to his vnfaithfulness) as Plexirtus.

argument key no. 2 So hauing sailed almost two daies, looking for no­thing but when we might looke vpon the land, a graue man (whom we had seene of great trust with Plexir­tus, and was sent as our principall guide) came vnto vs, and with a certaine kinde manner, mixt with shame, and repentaunce, began to tell vs, that he had taken such a loue vnto vs (considering our youth and fame) that though he were a seruaunt, and a seruaunt of such trust about Plexirtus, as that he had committed vnto him euen those secretes of his hart, which abhorde all other knowledge; yet he rather chose to reueale at this time a most pernitious counsell, then by concea­ling it bring to ruin those, whom he could not choose but honour. So went he on, and tolde vs, that Plexir­tus (in hope thereby to haue Artaxia, endewed with the great Kingdome of Armenia, to his wife) had gi­uen him order, when we were neere Greece, to finde some opportunitie to murder vs, bidding him to take vs a sleepe, because he had seene what we could do wa­king. Now sirs (said he) I would rather a thousand times loose my life, then haue my remembrance (while I liued) poysoned with such a mischiefe: and there­fore if it were onely I, that knewe herein the Kings order, then should my disobedience be a warrant of your safetie. But to one more (said he) namely the Captaine of the shippe, Plexirtus hath opened so much touching the effect of murdering you, though I think, laying the cause rather vpon old grudge, then his hope of Artaxia. And my selfe, (before the consideration[Page 210] of your excellencies had drawne loue and pittie into minde) imparted it to such, as I thought fittest for such a mischiefe. Therefore, I wishe you to stand vpon your garde, assuring you, that what I can doo for your safetie, you shall see (if it come to the pushe) by me perfourmed. We thanked him, as the matter indeed deserued, and from that time would no more disarme our selues, nor the one sleepe without his friendes eyes waked for him: so that it delaied the going for­warde of their bad enterprize, while they thought it rather chaunce, then prouidence, which made vs so be­haue our selues.

But when we came within halfe a daies sayling of argument key no. 3 the shore, soone they saw it was speedily, or not at all to be done. Then (and I remember it was about the first watch in the night) came the Captaine and whis­pered the councellour in the eare: But he (as it should seem) disswading him from it, the Captaine (who had bene a pyrate from his youth, and often blouded in it) with a lowde voice sware, that if Plexirtus bad him, he would not sticke to kill God him selfe. And therewith cald his mates, and in the Kings name willed them to take vs, aliue or dead; encouraging thē with the spoile of vs, which he said, (& indeed was true) would yeeld many exceeding rich iewels. But the Councellour (ac­cording to his promise) commanded them they should not cōmit such a villany, protesting that he would stād betweene them and the Kings anger therein. Where­with the Captaine enraged: Nay (said he) thē we must begin with this traitor him selfe: and therewith gaue him a sore blow vpon the head, who honestly did the best he could to reuenge himselfe.

argument key no. 4 But then we knew it time rather to encounter, then waite for mischiefe. And so against the Captaine we went, who straight was enuironned with most parte of the Souldiers and Mariners. And yet the truth is, there were some, whom either the authoritie of the councellour, doubt of the Kings minde, or liking of vs, made draw their swords of our side: so that quickly it grew a most confused fight. For the narrownesse of the place, the darkenesse of the time, and the vncer­tainty in such a tumult how to know friēds from foes, made the rage of swordes rather guide, then be guided by their maisters. For my cousin and me, truly I thinke we neuer perfourmed lesse in any place, doing no o­ther hurte, then the defence of our selues, and suc­couring them who came for it, draue vs to: for not dis­cerning perfectlie, who were for, or against vs, we thought it lesse euill to spare a foe, then spoyle a friend. But from the hiest to the lowest parte of the shippe there was no place lefte, without cries of murdring, and murdred persons. The Captaine I hapt a while to fight withall, but was driuen to parte with him, by hearing the crie of the Councellour, who receiued a mortall wounde, mistaken of one of his owne side. Some of the wiser would call to parley, & wish peace, but while the wordes of peace were in their mouthes, some of their auditours gaue them death for their hire. So that no man almost could conceiue hope of liuing, but being lefte aliue: and therefore euery one was willing to make him selfe roome, by dispatching almost any other: so that the great number in the ship was reduced to exceeding few, when of those few the most part weary of those troubles leapt into the boate,[Page 211] which was fast to the ship: but while they that were first, were cutting of the rope that tied it, others came leaping in, so disorderly, that they drowned both the boate, and themselues.

But while euen in that little remnant (like the chil­dren argument key no. 5 of Cadmus) we continued still to slay one an o­ther, a fire, which (whether by the desperate malice of some, or intention of separate, or accidentally while all things were cast vp and downe) it should seeme had taken a good while before, but neuer heeded of vs, (who onely thought to preserue, or reuenge) now vio­lently burst out in many places, and began to maister the principall partes of the ship. Then necessitie made vs see, that, a common enimy sets at one a ciuill warre: for that little all we were (as if we had bene waged by one man to quench a fire) streight went to resist that furious enimie by all art and labour: but it was too late, for already it did embrace and deuoure from the sterne, to the wast of the ship: so as labouring in vaine, we were driuen to get vp to the prowe of the ship, by the worke of nature seeking to preserue life, as long as we could: while truely it was a straunge and ougly sight, to see so huge a fire, as it quickly grew to be, in the Sea, and in the night, as if it had come to light vs to death. And by and by it had burned off the maste, which all this while had prowdly borne the sayle (the winde, as might seeme, delighted to carrie fire and bloud in his mouth) but now it fell ouer boord, and the fire growing neerer vs, it was not onely terrible in respect of what we were to attend, but insupportable through the heat of it.

So that we were constrained to bide it no longer,argument key no. 6 [Page] but disarming and stripping our selues, and laying our selues vpon such things, as we thought might help our swimming to the lande (too far for our owne strength to beare vs) my cousin and I threw our selues into the Sea. But I had swomme a very little way, when I felt (by reason of a wound I had) that I should not be able to bide the trauaile, and therefore seeing the maste (whose tackling had bene burnt of) flote cleare from the ship, I swamme vnto it, and getting on it, I found mine owne sworde, which by chaunce, when I threw it away (caught by a peece of canuas) had honge to the maste. I was glad, because I loued it well; but gladder, when I saw at the other end, the Captaine of the ship, and of all this mischiefe; who hauing a long pike, be­like had borne him selfe vp with that, till he had set him selfe vpon the mast. But when I perceiued him, Villaine (said I) doost thou thinke to ouerliue so many honest men, whom thy falsehood hath brought to de­struction? with that bestriding the mast, I gat by little and little towards him, after such a manner as boies are wont (if euer you saw that sport) when they ride the wild mare. And he perceiuing my intention, like a fel­low that had much more courage then honestie, set him selfe to resist. But I had in short space gotten with­in him, and (giuing him a sound blowe) sent him to feede fishes. But there my selfe remainde, vntill by py­rates I was taken vp, and among them againe taken pri­soner, and brought into Laconia.

argument key no. 7 But what (said Philoclea) became of your cousin Musi­dorus? Lost said Pyrocles. Ah my Pyrocles, said Philoclea, I am glad I haue takē you. I perceiue you louers do not alwaies say truely: as though I know not your cousin[Page 212] Dorus, the sheepeheard? Life of my desires (saide Pyro­cles) what is mine, euen to my soule is yours: but the se­cret of my friend is not mine. But if you know so much, then I may truely say, he is lost, since he is no more his owne. But I perceiue, your noble sister & you are great friends, and well doth it become you so to be. But go forward deare Pyrocles, I lōg to heare out till your mee­ting me: for there to me-warde is the best part of your storie. Ah sweet Philoclea (said Pyrocles) do you thinke I can thinke so precious leysure as this well spent in tal­king. Are your eyes a fit booke (thinke you) to reade a tale vpon? Is my loue quiet inough to be an histori­an? Deare Princesse, be gracious vnto me. And then he faine would haue remembred to haue forgot himselfe. But she, with a sweetly disobeying grace, desired that her desire (once for euer) might serue, that no spotte might disgrace that loue which shortly she hoped shold be to the world warrantable. Faine he would not haue heard, til she threatned anger. And then the poore louer durst not, because he durst not. Nay I pray thee, deare Pyrocles (said she) let me haue my story. Sweet Princesse (said he) giue my thoughts a litle respite: and if it please you, since this time must so be spoiled, yet it shall suffer the lesse harme, if you vouchsafe to bestow your voice, and let me know, how the good Queene Erona was be­traied into such dāger, and why Plangus sought me. For in dcede, I should pitie greatly any mischance fallen to that Princesse. I will, said Philoclea smiling, so you giue me your worde, your handes shall be quiet auditours. They shal, said he, because subiect. Then began she to speake, but with so prettie and delightfull a maiestie, when she set her countenaunce to tell the matter, that Pyrocles could not chuse but rebell so far, as to kisse her.[Page] She would haue puld her head away, and speake, but while she spake he kist, and it seemed he fedde vpon her wordes: but shee gate away. Howe will you haue your discourse (said she) without you let my lips alone? He yeelded and tooke her hand. On this (said he) will I re­uenge my wrong: and so began to make much of that hand, when her tale, & his delight were interrupted by Miso: who taking her time, while Basilius backe was tur­ned, came vnto them: and told Philoclea, she deserued she knewe what, for leauing her mother, being euill at case, to keepe companie with straungers. But Philoclea telling her, that she was there by her fathers comman­demēt, she went away muttering, that though her back, and her shoulders, and her necke were broken, yet as long as her tongue would wagge, it should do her er­rand to her mother.

CHAP. 25.

1 Gynecias diuining dreame. 2 For passionate ielousie in acti­ons, 3 speach, and 4 song described 5 Her troubling Philoclea and Zelmane, 6 The rebels troubling her. 7 Rebels resisted by Zelmane. 8 Zelmane assisted by Do­rus. 9 Dorus and Zelmanes fiue memorable strokes.

argument key no. 1 SO went vp Miso to Gynecia, who was at that time miserably vexed with this manner of dreame. It seemed vnto her to be in a place full of thornes, which so molested her, as she could neither abide standing still, nor treade safely going for­ward. In this case she thought Zel­mane, [Page 213] being vpon a faire hill, delightfull to the eye, and easie in apparance, called her thither: whither with much anguish being come, Zelmane was vanished, and she found nothing but a dead bodie like vnto her husband, which seeming at the first with a strange smell to infect her, as she was redie likewise within a while to die, the dead bodie, she thought, tooke her in his armes, and said, Gynecia, leaue all; for here is thy onely rest.

With that she awaked, crying very loud, Zelmane, Zelmane. argument key no. 2 But remembring her selfe, and seeing Basilius by, (her guiltie conscience more suspecting, then being suspected) she turned her call, and called for Philoclea, Miso forthwith like a valiant shrew, (looking at Basilius, as though she would speake though she died for it) tolde Gynecia, that her daughter had bene a whole houre togither in secrete talke with Zelmane: And (sayes she) for my part I coulde not be heard (your daughters are brought vp in such awe) though I tolde her of your pleasure sufficiently. Gynecia, as if she had heard her last doome pronounced agaynst her, with a side-looke and chaunged countenance, O my Lorde (said she) what meane you to suffer these yong folkes together Basilius (that aymed nothing at the marke of her suspition) smilingly tooke her in his armes, sweete wife (said he) I thanke you for your care of your childe: but they must be youthes of other mettall, then Zelmane, that can endaunger her. O but; cryed Gynecia, and therewith she stayed: for then indeede she did suffer a right conflict, betwixt the force of loue, and rage of iealousie. Manie times was she about to satisfie the spite of her minde, and tell Basilius, how she knewe Zelmane to be farre otherwise then the outwarde[Page] appearance. But those many times were all put backe, by the manifolde obiections of her vehement loue. Faine she would haue barde her daughters happe, but loth she was to cut off her owne hope. But now, as if her life had bene set vppon a wager of quicke rysing, as weake as she was, she gat vp; though Basilius, (with a kindnesse flowing onely from the fountaine of vnkindnesse, being in deede desirous to winne his daughter as much time as might be) was loth to suffer it, swearing he sawe sickenesse in her face, and therefore was loath she should aduenture the ayre.

argument key no. 3 But the great and wretched Ladie Gynecia, possessed with those deuils of Loue and Iealousie, did rid herselfe from her tedious husbande: and taking no body with her, going toward thē; O Iealousie (said she) the phrensie of wise folkes, the well-wishing spite, and vnkinde carefulnesse, the selfe-punishment for others faults, and selfe-miserie in others happinesse, the cousin of enuie, daughter of loue, & mother of hate, how couldest thou so quietly get thee a seate in the vnquiet hart of Gynecia, Gynecia (said she sighing) thought wise, and once vertuous? Alas it is thy breeders power which plantes thee there: it is the flaming agonie of affection, that works the chilling accesse of thy feuer, in such sort, that nature giues place; the growing of my daughter seemes the decay of my selfe; the blessings of a mother turne to the curses of a cōpetitor; and the faire face of Philoclea, appeares more horrible in my sight, then the image of death. Then remembred she this song, which she thought tooke a right measure of her present mind.

VVyth two strange fires of equall heate possest,argument key no. 4
The one of Loue, the other Iealousie,
Both still do worke, in neither finde I rest:
For both, alas, their strengthes together tie:
The one aloft doth holde, the other hie.
Loue wakes the iealous eye least thence it moues:
The iealous eye, the more it lookes, it loues.
These fires increase: in these I dayly burne:
They feede on me, and with my wings do flie:
My louely ioyes to dolefull ashes turne:
Their flames mount vp, my powers prostrate lie:
They liue in force, I quite consumed die.
One wonder yet farre passeth my conceate:
The fuell small: how be the fires so great?

But her vnleasured thoughtes ran not ouer the ten argument key no. 5 first wordes; but going with a pace, not so much too fast for her bodie, as flowe for her minde, she found them together, who after Misos departure, had left their tale, and determined what to say to Basilius. But full abashed was poore Philoclea, (whose conscience nowe began to knowe cause of blushing) for first salutation, receyuing an eye from her mother, full of the same disdainefull scorne, which Pallas shewed to poore Arachne, that durst contende with her for the prize of well weauing: yet did the force of loue so much rule her, that though for Zelmanes sake she did detest her, yet for Zelmanes sake she vsed no harder words to her, then to bid her go home, and accompany her solitarie father.

argument key no. 6 Then began she to display to Zelmane the storehouse of her deadly desires, when so dainly the confused rumor of a mutinous multitude gaue iust occasion to Zelmane to breake of any such conference, (for well she found, they were not friendly voices they heard) and to retire with as much diligence as conueniently they could, towards the lodge. Yet before they could winne the lodge by twentie paces, they were ouertaken by an vnruly sort of clownes, and other rebels, which like a violent floud, were caried, they themselues knewe not whether. But assoone as they came within perfect discerning these Ladies, like enraged beastes, without respect of their estates, or pitie of their sexe, they began to runne against them, as right villaines, thinking abilitie to doo hurt, to be a great aduancement: yet so many as they were, so many almost were their mindes, all knitte together onely in madnes. Some cried, Take; some, Kill; some, Saue: but euen they that cried saue, ran for companie with them that meant to kill. Euerie one commaunded, none obeyed, he only seemed chief Captain, that was most ragefull.

argument key no. 7 Zelmane(whose vertuous couragé was euer awake) drew out her sword, which vpon those il-armed churls giuing as many wounds as blowes, & as many deathes almost as wounds (lightning courage, and thundering smart vpon them) kept them at a bay, while the two Ladies got thēselues into the lodge: out of the which, Basilius (hauing put on an armour long vntried) came to proue his authoritie among his subiects, or at lest, to aduenture his life with his deare mistresse, to whō he brought a shield, while the Ladies tremblingly attended the issue of this dangerous aduenture. But Zelmane [Page 215] mane made them perceiue the ods betweene an Eagle and a Knight, with such a nimble stayednes, and such an assured nimblenes, that while one was running backe for feare, his fellow had her sword in his guts.

And by and by was both her harte and helpe well argument key no. 8 encreased by the comming of Dorus, who hauing been making of hurdles for his masters sheepe, hearde the horrible cries of this madde multitude; and hauing streight represented before the eies of his carefull loue, the perill wherein the soule of his soule might be, he went to Pamelas lodge, but found her in a caue hard by, with Mopsa and Dametas, who at that time would not haue opened the entrie to his father. And therefore leauing them there (as in a place safe, both for being strong, and vnknowen) he ranne as the noise guyded him. But when he saw his friend in such danger among them, anger and contempt (asking no counsell but of courage) made him roome among them, with no other weapon but his sheephooke, and with that ouerthro­wing one of the villaines, took away a two-hand sword from him, and withall, helpt him from euer being asha­med of losing it. Then lifting vp his braue head, and flashing terror into their faces, he made armes & legs goe complaine to the earth, how euill their masters had kept them. Yet the multitude still growing, and the verie killing wearying them (fearing, left in long fight they should be conquered with cōquering) they drew back toward the lodge; but drew back in such sort, that still their terror went forwarde: like a valiant mastisse, whom when his master pulles backe by the taile from the beare (with whom he hath alreadie interchanged a hatefull imbracement) though his pace be backwarde,[Page] his gesture is foreward, his teeth and eyes threatening more in the retiring, then they did in the aduancing: so guided they themselues homeward, neuer stepping steppe backward, but that they proued themselues ma­sters of the ground where they stept.

argument key no. 9 Yet among the rebels there was a dapper fellowe, a tayler by occupation, who fetching his courage onelie from their going back, began to bow his knees, & very fencer-like to draw neere to Zelmane. But as he came within her distāce, turning his sword very nicely about his crown, Basilius, with a side blow, strake of his nose. He (being a suiter to a seimsters daughter, and therfore not a little grieued for such a disgrace) stouped downe, because he had hard, that if it were fresh put to, it would cleaue on againe. But as his hand was on the grounde to bring his nose to his head, Zelmane with a blow, sent his head to his nose. That saw a butcher, a butcherlie chuffe indeed (who that day was sworn brother to him in a cup of wine) & lifted vp a great leauer, calling Zel­mane all the vile names of a butcherly eloquence. But she (letting slippe the blowe of the leauer) hitte him so surely on the side of his face, that she lefte nothing but the nether iawe, where the tongue still wagged, as wil­ling to say more, if his masters remēbrance had serued. O (said a miller that was halfe dronke) see the lucke of a good fellow, and with that word, ran with a pitchforke at Dorus: but the nimblenes of the wine caried his head so fast, that it made it ouer-runne his feet, so that he fell withall, iust betwene the legs of Dorus: who setting his foote on his neck (though he offered two milche kine, and foure fatte hogs for his life) thrust his sword quite through, from one eare to the other; which toke it very[Page 216] vnkindlie, to feele such newes before they heard of them, in stead of hearing, to be put to such feeling. But Dorus (leauing the miller to vomit his soul out in wine and bloud) with his two-hand sword strake of another quite by the waste, who the night before had dreamed he was growen a couple, and (interpreting it he should be maried) had bragd of his dreame that morning a­mong his neighbors. But that blow astonished quite a poore painter, who stood by with a pike in his handes. This painter was to counterfette the skirmishing be­twene the Centaures and Lapithes, and had bene very de­sirous to see some notable wounds, to be able the more liuely to expresse them; and this morning (being caried by the streame of this companie) the foolish felow was euen delighted to see the effect of blowes. But this last, (hapning neere him) so amazed him, that he stood still, while Dorus (with a turne of his sword) strake of both his hands. And so the painter returned, well skilled in wounds, but with neuer a hand to performe his skill.

CHAP. 26.

1 Zelmanes confident attempt to appease the mutinie. 2 A bone of diuision cast by her, 3 and caught by them. 4 Her pacificatorie oration. 5 The acceptation and issue of it.

In this manner they recouered the lodge,argument key no. 1 and gaue the rebels a face of wood of the out-side. But they then (though no more furious, yet more couragious when they saw no resister) went about with pickaxe to the wall, and fire to the gate, to gette themselues en­trance.[Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] Then did the two Ladies mixe feare with loue, especially Philoclea, who euer caught hold of Zelmane, so (by the follie of loue) hindering the help which she desired. But Zelmane seeing no way of defence, not time to deliberate (the number of those villaines still encreasing, and their madnesse still encreasing with their number) thought it onely the meanes to goe beyond their expectation with an vnused boldenesse, and with danger to auoide danger: and therefore ope­ned againe the gate, and (Dorus and Basilius standing redie for her defence) she issued againe among them. The blowes she had dealt before (though all in gene­rall were hastie) made each of them in particular take breath, before they brought them sodainly ouer-neere her, so that she had time to gette vp to the iudgement­seate of the Prince, which (according to the guise of that countrie) was before the gate. There she paused a while, making signe with her hand vnto them, & with­all, speaking aloud, that she had something to say vnto them, that would please them. But she was answered a while with nothing but shouts and cries; and some be­ginning to throw stones at her, not daring to approach her. But at length, a young farmer (who might do most among the countrie sort; and was caught in a little affe­ction towardes Zelmane) hoping by this kindenesse to haue some good of her, desired them, if they were ho­nest men, to heare the woman speake. Fie fellowes, fie, (said he) what will all the maides in our towne say, if so many tall men shall be afraide to heare a faire wench? I sweare vnto you by no little ones, I had rather giue my teeme of oxen, then we should shewe our selues so vnciuill wights. Besides, I tell you true, I haue heard it[Page 217] of old men counted wisdome, to heare much, & say lit­tle. His sententious speech so preuailed, that the most parte began to listen. Then she, with such efficacie of gracefulnes, & such a quiet magnanimitie represen­ted in her face in this vttermost perill, as the more the barbarous people looked, the more it fixed their looks vpon her, in this forte began vnto them.

It is no small comfort vnto me (said she) hauing to argument key no. 2 speake something vnto you for your owne behoofs, to find that I haue to deale with such a people, who shew indeed in thēselues the right nature of valure, which as it leaues no violence vnattempted, while the choller is nourished with resistance; so when the subiect of their wrath, doth of it self vnloked-for offer it self into their hands, it makes thē at lest take a pause before they de­termine cruelty. Now then first (before I come to the principall matter) haue I to say vnto you; that your Prince Basilius himselfe in person is within this Lodge, & was one of the three, whō a few of you went about to fight withall: (& this she said, not doubting but they knew it well inough; but because she would haue them imagine, that the Prince might think that they did not know it) by him am I sent vnto you, as frō a Prince to his well approoued subiects, nay as from a father to be­loued children, to know what it is that hath bred iust quarrell among you, or who they be that haue any way wrōged you? what it is with which you are displeased, or of which you are desirous? This he requires: and in­deed (for he knowes your faithfulnes) he commaunds you presently to set downe, & to choose among your selues some one, who may relate your griefes or de­maundes vnto him.

argument key no. 3 This (being more then they hoped for from their Prince) asswaged well their surie, & many of them con­sented (especially the young farmer helping on, who meant to make one of the demaūds that he might haue Zelmane for his wife) but when they began to talke of their grieues, neuer Bees made such a cōfused hūming: the towne dwellers demanding putting downe of im­posts: the country felowes laying out of cōmons: some would haue the Prince keepe his Court in one place, some in another. Al cried out to haue new coūcellors: but when they should think of any new, they liked thē as well as any other, that they could remēber, especial­ly they would haue the treasure so looked vnto, as that he should neuer neede to take any more subsides. At length they fel to direct contrarieties. For the Artisans, they would haue corne & wine set at a lower price, and bound to be kept so stil: the plowmen, vine-laborers, & farmers would none of that. The coūtrimen demaun­ded that euery man might be free in the chief townes: that could not the Burgesses like of. The peasāts would haue the Gentlemē destroied, the Citizens (especially such as Cookes, Barbers, & those other that liued most on Gentlemen) would but haue them resourmed. And of ech side were like diuisions, one neighbourhood be­ginning to find fault with another. But no confusion was greater then of particular mens likings and disli­kings: one dispraising such a one, whō another praised, & demanding such a one to be punished, whom the o­ther would haue exalted. No lesse ado was there about choosing him, who should be their spokes-man. The fi­ner sort of Burgesses, as Marchants Prentises, & Cloth­workers, because of their riches, disdaining the baser occupations, & they because of their number as much[Page 218] disdaining them: all they scorning the countrimens ig­noraunce, & the countrymen suspecting as much their cūning: So that Zelmanc (finding that their vnited rage was now growne, not only to a diuiding, but to a cros­sing one of another, & that the mislike growne among thēselues did wel allay the heat against her) made tokēs againe vnto thē (as though she tooke great care of their wel doing, and were afraid of their falling out) that she would speake vnto thē. They now growne iealous one of another (the stay hauing ingēdred diuisiō, & diuisiō hauing manifested their weaknes) were willing inough to heare, the most part striuing to show themselues wil­linger then their fellowes: which Zelmane (by the ac­quaintaunce she had had with such kinde of humors) soone perceiuing, with an angerles brauery, & an vna­bashed mildnes, in this manner spake vnto them.

An vnused thing it is, & I think not heretofore seene,argument key no. 4 ô Arcadians, that a womā should giue publike coūsel to men, a strāger to the coūtry people, & that lastly in such a presence by a priuate person, the regall throne should be possessed. But the straungenes of your action makes that vsed for vertue, which your violent necessitie im­poseth. For certainely, a woman may well speake to such men, who haue forgottē al manlike gouernment: a straunger may with reason instruct such subiects, that neglect due points of subiection: and is it maruaile this place is entred into by another, since your owne Prince (after thirtie yeares gouernment) dare not shew his face vnto his faithfull people? Heare therefore ô Ar­cadians, & be ashamed: against whō hath this rage bene stirred? whether haue bene bent these māfull weapons of yours? In this quiet harmles lodge are harbourd no[Page] Argians your ancient enimies, nor Laconians your now feared neighbours. Here be nether hard landlords, nor biting vsurers. Here lodge none, but such, as either you haue great cause to loue, or no cause to hate: here being none, besides your Prince, Princesse, and their children, but my self. Is it I then, ô Arcadians, against whom your anger is armed? Am I the marke of your vehemēt quar­rell? if it be so, that innocencie shall not be a stop for fu­rie; if it be so, that the law of hospitalitie (so long & ho­lily obserued among you) may not defend a straunger fled to your armes for succour: if in fine it be so, that so many valiaunt mens courages can be enflamed to the mischiefe of one silly woman; I refuse not to make my life a sacrifice to your wrath. Exercise in me your indig­natiō, so it go no further, I am content to pay the great fauours I haue receiued amōg you, with my life, not ill deseruing I present it here vnto you, ô Arcadians, if that may satisfie you; rather thē you (called ouer the world the wise and quiet Arcadians) should be so vaine, as to attempt that alone, which all the rest of your countrie wil abhor; thē you should shew your selues so vngrate­full, as to forget the fruite of so many yeares peaceable gouernment; or so vnnaturall, as not to haue with the holy name of your naturall Prince, any furie ouer-mai­stred. For such a hellish madnes (I know) did neuer enter into your harts, as to attēpt any thing against his person; which no successor, though neuer so hatefull, wil euer leaue (for his owne sake) vnreuenged. Neither can your wonted valour be turned to such a basenes, as in stead of a Prince, deliuered vnto you by so many roi­all ancestors, to take the tyrannous yoke of your fellow subiect, in whom the innate meanes will bring forth ra­uenous[Page 219] couetousnes, and the newnes of his estate, sus­pectfull cruelty. Imagine, what could your enimies more wish vnto you, then to see your owne estate with your owne handes vndermined? O what would your fore-fathers say, if they liued at this time, & saw their of­spring defacing such an excellent principalitie, which they with so much labour & bloud so wisely haue esta­blisht? Do you thinke them fooles, that saw your should not enioy your vines, your cattell, no not your wiues & children, without gouernment; and that there could be no gouernment without a Magistrate, and no Magi­strate without obedience, and no obediēce where eue­ry one vpon his owne priuate passion, may interprete the doings of the rulers? Let your wits make your pre­sent exāple to you. What sweetnes (in good faith) find you in your present condition? what choise of choise finde you, if you had lost Basilius? vnder whose ensigne would you go, if your enimies should inuade you? If you cannot agree vpon one to speake for you, how wil you agree vpō one to fight for you? But with this feare of I cannot tel what, one is troubled, and with that pas­sed wrong another is grieued. And I pray you did the Sunne euer bring you a fruitfull haruest, but that it was more hote then pleasant? Haue any of you childrē, that be not sometimes cumbersome? Haue any of you fa­thers, that be not sometime weerish? What, shall we curse the Sonne, hate our children, or disobey our fa­thers? But what need I vse these wordes, since I see in your countenances (now vertuously settled) nothing els but loue and dutie to him, by whom for your only sakes the gouernmēt is embraced. For al what is done, he doth not only pardon you, but thanke you; iudging the action by the minds, & not the minds by the actiō.[Page] Your grieues, and desires, whatsoeuer, & whensoeuer you list, he wil consider of, and to his consideration it is reason you should refer them. So then, to cōclude; the vncertainty of his estate made you take armes; now you see him well, with the same loue lay them downe. If now you end (as I know you will) he will make no other account of this matter, but as of a vehement, I must cōfesse ouer-vehement affection: the only conti­nuaunce might proue a wickednes. But it is not so, I see very wel, you begā with zeale, & wil end with reuerēce.

argument key no. 5 The action Zelmane vsed, being beautified by na­ture and apparelled with skill, her gestures beyng such, that as her wordes did paint out her minde, so they serued as a shadow, to make the picture more liue­ly and sensible, with the sweete cleernesse of her voice, rising & falling kindly as the nature of the worde, and efficacie of the matter required, altogether in such ad­mirable person, whose incomparable valour they had well felte, whose beautie did pearce through the thicke dulnes of their senses, gaue such a way vnto her speach through the rugged wildernesse of their imaginations, who (besides they were striken in admiration of her, as of more then a humane creature) were coold with taking breath, and had learned doubts out of leasure, that in steed of roaring cries, there was now heard no­thing, but a cōfused muttring, whether her saying were to be followed, betwixt feare to pursue, & lothnesse to leaue: most of them could haue bene cōtent, it had ne­uer bene begun, but how to end it (each afraid of his companion,) they knew not, finding it far easier to tie then to loose knots. But Zelmane thinking it no euil way in such mutinies, to giue the mutinous some occasiō of such seruice, as they might thinke (in their own iudge­ment)[Page 220] would counteruaile their trespasse, withal, to take the more assured possession of their mindes, which she feared might begin to wauer, Loiall Arcadians (said she) now do I offer vnto you the manifesting of your du­ties: all those that haue taken armes for the Princes safe­tie, let thē turne their backs to the gate, with their wea­pons bent against such as would hurt his sacred person. O weak trust of the many-headed multitude, whom in­constancie onely doth guide to well doing: who can set confidence there, where company takes away shame, and ech may lay the fault of his fellow? So said a craftie felow among them, named Clinias, to himselfe, when he saw the worde no sooner out of Zelmanes mouth, but that there were some shouts of ioy, with, God saue Basi­lius, and diuers of them with much iollity growne to be his guard, that but litle before mēt to be his murderers.

CHAP. 27.

1 A verball craftie coward purtrayed in Clinias. 2 His first raising, and with the first, relenting in this mutinie, 3 pu­nished by the farmer. 4 The vprore reenforced, & weak­ned by themselues. 5 Clinias-his Sinon-like narration of this drūken rebellions original. 6 The kings order in it.

THis Clinias in his youth had bene a argument key no. 1 scholler so farre, as to learne rather wordes then maners, and of words rather plentie then order; and oft had vsed to be an actor in Tragedies, where he had learned, besides a slidingnesse of language, acquain­tance[Page] with many passions, and to frame his face to beare the figure of them: long vsed to the eyes and eares of men, and to recken no fault, but shamefastnesse; in na­ture, a most notable Coward, and yet more strangely then rarely venturous in priuie practises.

argument key no. 2 This fellowe was become of neere trust to Cecropia, Amphialus-his mother, so that he was priuy to al the mis­chieuous deuises, wherewith she went about to ruine Basilius, and his children, for the aduauncing of her sonne: and though his education had made him full of tongue, yet his loue to be doing, taught him in any euill to be secret; and had by his mistresse bene vsed (e­uer since the strange retiring of Basilius) to whisper ru­mors into the peoples eares: and this time (finding great aptnes in the multitude) was one of the chiefe that set them in the vprore (though quite without the cōsent of Amphialus, who would not for all the Kingdoms of the world so haue aduētured the life of Philoclea.) But now perceiuing the flood of their furie began to ebbe, he thought it policie to take the first of the tide, so that no mā cried lowder then he, vpon Basilius. And som of the lustiest rebels not yet agreeing to the rest, he caused two or three of his mates that were at his cōmandement to lift him vp, & then as if he had had a prologue to vtter, he began with a nice grauitie to demand audience. But few attending what he said, with vehement gesture, as if he would teare the stars from the skies, he fell to cry­ing out so lowde, that not onely Zelmane, but Basilius might heare him. O vnhappie men, more madde then the Giants that would haue plucked Iupiter out of heauen, how long shal this rage continue? why do you not all throw downe your weapons, and submit your[Page 221] selues to our good Prince, our good Basilius, the Pelops of wisdom, & Minos of all good gouernmēt? when will you begin to beleue me, and other honest and faithfull subiects, that haue done all we could to stop your surie?

The farmer that loued Zelmane could abide him no argument key no. 3 longer. For as at the first he was willing to speake of cō ­ditions, hoping to haue gotten great soueramties, & a­mong the rest Zelmane: so now perceiuing, that the peo­ple, once any thing downe the hill from their furie, would neuer stop till they came to the bottom of abso­lute yeelding, and so that he should be nearer feares of punishment, then hopes of such aduancement, he was one of them that stood most against the agreement: and to begin withall, disdaining this fellow should play the preacher, who had bin one of the chiefest make-bates, strake him a great wound vpon the face with his sword. The cowardly wretch fell down, crying for succour, & (scrambling through the legs of them that were about him) gat to the throne, where Zelmane tooke him, and comforted him, bleeding for that was past, and quaking for feare of more.

But as soone as that blow was giuen (as if AEolus had argument key no. 4 broke open the doore to let all his winds out) no hand was idle, ech one killing him that was next, for feare he should do as much to him. For being diuided in minds & not diuided in cōpanies, they that would yeeld to Ba­silius were intermingled with thē that would not yeeld. These men thinking their ruine stood vpō it; those men to get fauor of their Prince, conuerted their vngracious motion into their owne bowels, & by a true iudgement grew their owne punishers. None was sooner killed thē those that had bene leaders in the disobedience: who[Page] by being so, had taught them, that they did leade dis­obediēce to the same leaders. And many times it fel out that they killed them that were of their owne faction, anger whetting, and doubt hastening their fingers. But then came downe Zelmane; and Basilius with Dorus is­sued, and sometimes seeking to draw together those of their party, somtimes laying indifferently among them, made such hauocke (amōg the rest Zel-mane striking the farmer to the hart with her sworde, as before she had done with her eyes) that in a while all they of the con­trary side were put to flight, and fled to certaine woods vpon the frontiers; where feeding coldly, and drinking onely water, they were disciplined for their dronken ri­ots; many of them being slaine in that chase, about a score onely escaping. But when these late rebels, nowe souldiers, were returned from the chase, Basilius calling them togither, partly for policy sake, but principally be­cause Zelmane before had spoken it (which was to him more thē a diuine ordinance) he pronounced their ge­nerall pardon, willing them to returne to their houses, and therafter be more circūspect in their proceedings: which they did most of them with share-marks of their folly. But imagining Clinias to be one of the chiefe that had bred this good alteration, he gaue him particular thanks, and withall willed him to make him know, how this frenzie had entred into the people.

argument key no. 5 Clinias purposing indeede to tell him the trueth of al, sauing what did touch himself, or Cecropia, first, dipping his hand in the blood of his woūd, Now by this blood (said he) which is more deare to me, then al the rest that is in my body, since it is spent for your safety: this tōgue (perchance vnfortunate, but neuer false) shall not now begin to lie vnto my Prince, of me most beloued. Then[Page 222] stretching out his hand, and making vehement counte­nāces the vshers to his speches, in such maner of tearms recounted this accident. Yesterday (said he) being your birth-day, in the goodly greene two mile hence before the city of Enispus, to do honour to the day, were a four or fiue thousand people (of all conditions, as I thinke) gathered together, spending al the day in dancings and other exercises: and when night came, vndertents and bowes making great cheare, and meaning to obserue a wassaling watch all that night for your sake. Bacchus (the learned say) was begot with thunder : I think, that made him euer since so full of stur & debate. Bacchus indeed it was which soūded the first trūpet to this rude alarū. For that barbarous opinion being generally amongthem, to thinke with vice to do honor, & with actiuitie in beast­lines to shew abundānce of loue, made most of thē seeke to shew the depth of their affectiō in the depth of their draught. But being once wel chased with wine (hauing spent al the night, & some peece of the morning in such reuelling) & imboldned by your absented maner of li­uing, there was no matter their eares had euer heard of that grew not to be a subiect of their winie conference. I speake it by proofe: for I take witnes of the gods (who neuer leaue periuries vnpunished) that I oftē cried out against their impudency, & (whē that would not serue) stopt mine eares, because I wold not be partaker of their blasphemies, till with buffets they forced me to haue mine eares & eies defiled. Publike affairs were minlegd with priuate grudges, neither was any man thoughts of wit, that did not pretende some cause of mislike. Ray­ling was counted the fruite of freedome, and saying nothing had his vttermoste prayse in ignoraunce. At the length, your sacred person (alas why did I[Page] liue to heare it? alas how do I breath to vtter it? But your cōmandement doth not onely enioine obedience, but giue me force: your sacred person (I say) fell to be their table-talke: a proud word swelling in their stomacks, & disdainfull reproches against so great a greatnes, hauing put on the shew of greatnes in their little mindes: till at length the very vnbrideled vse of words hauing increa­sed fire in their mindes (which God knowes thought their knowledge notable, because they had at all no knowledge to cōdemne their own want of knowledge) they descended (O neuer to be forgotten presumption) to a direct mislike of your liuing from among them. Whereupon it were tedious to remember their far-fet­ched constructions. But the summe was, you disdained them: and what were the pompes of your estate, if their armes mainteyned you not? Who woulde call you a Prince, if you had not a people? When cer­taine of them of wretched estates, and worse mindes (whose fortunes, change could not impaire) began to say, that your gouernment was to be looked into; how the great treasures (you had leuied amōg thē) had bene spent; why none but great men & gentlemen could be admitted into counsel, that the cōmons (forsooth) were to plain headed to say their opiniōs: but yet their blood & sweat must maintain all. Who could tell whether you were not betraied in this place, where you liued? nay whether you did liue or no? Therefore that it was time to come & see; and if you were here, to know (if Arca­dia were growne lothsome in your sight) why you did not ridde your selfe of the trouble? There would not want those that would take so faire a cumber in good part. Since the Countrie was theirs, and the gouerne­ment[Page 223] an adherent to the countrie, why should they not consider of the one, as well as inhabite the other? Nay rather (said they) let vs beginne that, which all Arcadia will followe. Let vs deliuer our Prince from daunger of practises, and our selues from want of a Prince. Let vs doo that, which all the rest thinke. Let it be said, that we onely are not astonished with vaine titles, which haue their force but in our force. Lastly, to haue saide & heard so much, was as dāgerous, as to haue attēpted: & to attēpt they had the name of glorious liberty with them. These words being spokē (like a furious storme) presently caried away their wel inclined braines. What I, and some other of the honester sort could do, was no more, then if with a puffe of breath, one should goe a­bout to make a saile goe against a mightie winde: or, with one hand, stay the ruine of a mightie wall. So ge­nerall grewe this madnes among them, there needed no drumme, where each man cried, each spake to other that spake as fast to him, and the disagreeing sounde of so many voices, was the chiefe token of their vnmeete agreement. Thus was their banquette turned to a bat­taile, their winie mirthes to bloudie rages, and the hap­pie prayers for your life, to monstrous threatning of your estate; the solemnizing your birth-day, tended to haue been the cause of your funerals. But as a dronken rage hath (besides his wickednes) that follie, that the more it seekes to hurt, the lesse it considers how to be able to hurt: they neuer weyed how to arme thēselues, but tooke vp euery thing for a weapon, that furie offered to their handes. Many swordes, pikes, and billes there were: others tooke pitchforkes and rakes, conuerting husbandrie to souldierie: some caught hold[Page] of spittes (thinges seruiceable for life) to be the instru­ments of death. And there was some such one, who held the same pot wherein he drank to your health, to vse it (as he could) to your mischiefe. Thus armed, thus gouerned, forcing the vnwilling, and hartening the willing, adding furie to furie, and encreasing rage with running, they came headlong towarde this lodge: no man (I dare say) resolued in his own hart, what was the vttermost he would doo when he came hether. But as mischief is of such nature, that it cannot stand but with strengthning one euill by an other, and so multiplie in it selfe, till it come to the highest, and then fall with his owne weight: so to their mindes (once passed the bounds of obedience) more and more wickednes ope­ned it selfe, so that they who first pretended to preserue you, then to reforme you, (I speak it in my conscience, and with a bleeding hart) now thought no safetie for them, without murdering you. So as if the Gods (who preserue you for the preseruation of Arcadia) had not shewed their miraculous power, and that they had not vsed for instruments, both your owne valour (not fit to be spoken of by so meane a mouth as mine) and some (I must confesse) honest minds, (whō alas why should I mention, since what we did, reached not the hundred part of our duetie?) our hands (I tremble to think of it) had destroyed all that, for which we haue cause to re­ioyce that we are Arcadians.

argument key no. 6 With that the fellow did wring his hands, & wrang out teares: so as Basilius, that was not the sharpest pear­cer into masked minds, toke a good liking to him; & so much the more as he had tickled him with praise in the hearing of his mistres. And therfore pitying his woūd,[Page 224] willed him to get him home, and looke well vnto it, & make the best search he could, to know if there were a­ny further depth in this matter, for which he should be well rewarded. But before he went away, certain of the shepheards being come (for that day was appointed for their pastorals) he sent one of them to Philanax, and an other to other principal noble-men, and cities there abouts, to make through-inquirie of this vprore, and withall, to place such garrisons in all the townes & vil­lages neere vnto him, that he might thereafter keep his solitary lodge in more security, vpō the making of a fire, or ringing of a bell, hauing them in a redines for him.

CHAP. 28.

1 The praises of Zelmanes act. 2 Dametas his caroll for sauing himselfe, and his charge. 3 Basilius his conference with Philanax of the Oracle (the ground of all this storie.) 4 His wrong-construction of it. 5 His hymne to Apollo. 6 His cour­ting turnde ouer to tale-telling.

THis, Clinias (hauing his care one way argument key no. 1 when his eye was an other) had percei­ued; & therefore hasted away, with mind to tell Cecropia that she was to take some speedie resolution, or els it were daunger those examinations would both discouer, & ruine her: and so went his way, leauing that little companie with embracements, and praising of Zelmanes excellent pro­ceeding, to shew, that no decking sets foorth any thing so much, as affection. For as, while she stoode at the discretion of those indiscreete rebelles, euerie[Page] angrie countenance any of them made, seemed a knife layde vpon their owne throates; so vnspeakable was now their ioy, that they saw (besides her safetie & their owne) the same wrought, and safely wrought by her meanes, in whom they had placed all their delightes. What examples Greece could euer alledge of witte and fortitude, were set in the ranke of trifles, being compared to this action.

argument key no. 2 But as they were in the midst of those vnsained ce­remonies, a Gitterne, ill-played on, accompanied with a hoarce voice (who seemed to sing maugre the Muses, and to be merie in spite of Fortune) made them looke the way of the ill-noysed song. The song was this.

A Hatefull cure with hate to heale:
A blooddy helpe with blood to saue:
A foolish thing with fooles to deale:
Let him be bold that bobs will haue.
But who by meanes of wisdome hie
Hath sau'd his charge? it is euen I.
Let other deck their pride with skarres,
And of their wounds make braue lame showes:
First let them die, then passe the starres,
When rotten Fame will tell their blowes.
But eye from blade, and eare from crie:
Who hath sau'd all? it is euen I.

They had so one found it was Dametas, who came with no lesse lifted vp countenance, then if he had pas­sed ouer the bellies of all his enemies: so wise a point he thought he had perfourmed, in vsing the naturall[Page 225] strength of a caue. But neuer was it his dooing to come so soone thence, till the coast were more assuredly cleare: for it was a rule with him, that after a great storme there euer fell a fewe droppes before it be fully finished. But Pamela (who had now experienced how much care doth sollicite a Louers hart) vsed this occa­sion of going to her parents and sister, indeed aswel for that cause, as being vnquiet, till her eye might be assu­red, how her shepheard had gone through the daun­ger. But Basilius with the sight of Pamela (of whom al­most his head otherwise occupied, had left the wonted remembrance) was sodainly striken into a deuout kind of admiration, remembring the oracle, which (accor­ding to the fauning humour of salfe hope) he inter­preted now his owne to his owne best, and with the willing blindnesse of affection (because his minde ran wholly vpon Zelmane) he thought the Gods in their o­racles did principally minde her.

But as he was deepely thinking of the matter, one of argument key no. 3 the shepheards tolde him, that Philanax was already come with a hundred horse in his company. For ha­uing by chaunce rid not farre of the little desert, he had heard of this vprore, and so was come vpon the spurre (gathering a company of Gentlemen as fast as he could) to the succour of his Master. Basilius was glad of it; but (not willing to haue him, nor any other of the Noble men, see his Mistresse) he himselfe went out of the Lodge, and so giuing order vnto him of placing garrisons, and examining these matters; and Philanax with humble earnestnesse beginning to entreate him to leaue of his solitarie course (which already had bene so daungerous vnto him) Well (said Basilius) it may be[Page] ere long I wil cōdiscend vnto your desire. In the meane time, take you the best order you can to keepe me safe in my solitarinesse. But, (said he) doo you remember, how earnestly you wrote vnto me, that I should not be moued by that Oracles authoritie, which brought me to this resolution? Full well Sir (answered Philanax) for though it pleased you not as then to let me knowe, what the Oracles words were, yet all Oracles holding (in my conceipt) one degree of reputatiō, it suffised me to know, it was but an Oracle, which led you frō your owne course. Well (said Basilius) I will now tell you the wordes; which before I thought not good to doo; because when al the euents fall out (as some already haue done) I may charge you with your incredulitie. So he repeated them in this sorte.

THy elder care shall from thy carefull face
By princely meane be stolne, and yet not lost.
Thy yonger shall with Natures blisse embrace
An vncouth loue, which Nature hateth most.
Both they them selues vnto such two shall wed,
Who at thy beer, as at a barre, shall plead;
Why thee (a liuing man) they had made dead.
In thy owne seate a forraine state shall sit.
And ere that all these blowes thy head doo hit,
Thou, with thy wife, adultry shall commit.

For you forsoth (said he) when I told you, that some supernaturall cause sent me strange visiōs, which being cōfirmed with presagious chaunces, I had gone to Del­phos, [Page 226] & there receiued this answere: you replied to me, that the onely supernaturall causes were the humors of my body, which bred such melancholy dreames; and that both they framed a mind full of conceipts, apt to make presages of things, which in thēselues were meer­ly chaungeable: & with all as I say, you remēber what you wrot vnto me, touching authoritie of the Oracle: but now I haue some notable triall of the truth therof, which herafter I wil more largly cōmunicate vnto you. Only now, know that the thing I most feared is alredy performed; I mean that a sorraine state should possesse my throne. For that hath ben done by Zelmane, but not as I feared, to my ruine, but to my preseruatiō. But whē he had once named Zelmane, that name was as good as a pully, to make the clocke of his praises run on in such sort, that (Philanax found) was more exquisite then the only admiration of vertue breedeth: which his faithful hart inwardly repining at, made him shrinke away as soone as he could, to go about the other matters of im­portance, which Basilius had enioyned vnto him.

Basilius returned into the Lodge, thus by him selfe argument key no. 4 construing the oracle, that in that he said, his elder care should by Princely meane be stolne away from him, and yet not lost, it was now perfourmed, since Zel­mane had as it were robd from him the care of his first begotten childe, yet was it not lost, since in his harte the ground of it remained. That his younger should with Natures blisse embrace the loue of Zelmane, be­cause he had so commaunded her for his sake to doo; yet shoulde it be with as much hate of Nature, for being so hatefull an opposite to the iealousie hee thought her mother had of him. The sitting in his[Page] seate he deemed by her already perfourmed: but that which most cōforted him, was his interpretation of the adulterie, which he thought he should commit with Zelmane, whom afterwards he should haue to his wife. The point of his daughters marriage, because it threat­ned his death withall, he determined to preuent, with keeping them vnmaried while he liued. But hauing as he thought, gotten thus much vnderstanding of the O­racle, he determined for three daies after to perfourme certaine rites to Apollo: and euen then began with his wife and daughters to singe this Hymne, by them yearely vsed.

argument key no. 5 APollo great, whose beames the greater world do light,
And in our little world do cleare our inward sight,
Which euer shine, though hid from earth by earthly shade,
Whose lights do euer liue, but in our darkenesse sade;
Thou God, whose youth was deckt with spoiles of Pythōs skin:
(So humble knowledge can throw downe the snakish kinne)
Latonas sonne, whose birth in paine and trauaile long
Doth teach, to learne the good what trauailes do belong:
In trauaile of our life (a short but tedious space)
While brickle houreglas runnes, guide thou our panting pace:
Giue us foresightfull mindes: giue vs minds to obaye
What foresight tels; our thoughts vpon thy knowledge staye.
Let so our fruites grow vp, that nature be maintainde:
But so our hartes keepe downe, with vice they be not stainde.
Let this assured holde our iudgements ouertake,
That nothing winnes the heauen, but what doth earth forsake.

argument key no. 6 Assone as he had ended his deuotion (all the priui­ledged shepheards being now come) knowing well[Page 227] inough he might lay all his care vpon Philanax, he was willing to sweeten the tast of this passed tumult, with some rurall pastimes. For which while the shepheards prepared themselues in their best māner, Basilius tooke his daughter Philoclea aside, and with such hast, as if his eares hunted for wordes, desired to know how she had found Zelmane. She humbly answered him, according to the agreement betwixt them, that thus much for her sake Zelmane was content to descend from her former resolutiō, as to heare him, whēsoeuer he would speake; & further then that (she said) as Zelmane had not graun­ted, so she nether did, nor euer would desire. Basilius kist her with more then fatherly thanks, and straight (like a hard-kept warde new come to his lands) would faine haue vsed the benefite of that graunt, in laying his sick­nes before his onely physition. But Zelmane (that had not yet fully determined with her selfe, how to beare her selfe toward him) made him in a few words vnder­stand, that the time in respect of the cōpanie was vnsit for such a parley, & therfore to keep his braines the bu­sier, letting him vnderstand what she had learned of his daughters, touching Eronas distresse (whom in her tra­uaile she had knowne, and bene greatly beholding to) she desired him to finish the rest, for so far as Plāgus had told him; Because she said (& she said truly) she was full of care for that Ladie, whose desart (onely except an o­uer-base choise) was nothing agreable to misfortune. Basilius glad that she would commaund him any thing, but more glad, that in excusing the vnsitnesse of that time, she argued an intention to graunt a fitter, obeyed her in this manner.

CHAP. 29.

1 Antiphilus his base-borne pride borne high by flatterie. 2 His vnkinde hating the louing Erona, and fond lo­uing of hating Artaxia. 3 Artaxias trap to take them both. 4 The mans weakenesse, and the womans strength in bearing captiuitie. 5 Plangus loue to her, employed by her to saue Antiphilus, 6 who againe betraies himselfe and them. 7 His execution by women. 8 Plangus hardy attempts to saue Erona. 9 The conditions of her death. 10 Her sorrow for Antiphilus, 11 and Plangus trauaile for her: with his crosses, and course therein.

Madame (said he) it is very true, that since yeares enhabled me to iudge what is, or is not to be pitied, I ne­uer saw anything that more moued me to iustifie a vehemēt compassi­on in my self, then the estare of that Prince, whom strong against al his owne afflictions (which yet were great, as I perceaue you haue heard) yet true and no­ble loue had so pulled downe, as to lie vnder sorrow for another.argument key no. 1 In so much as I could not temper my long idle pen in that subiect, which I perceiue you haue seene. But then to leaue that vnrepeated, which I finde my daughters haue told you, It may please you to vn­derstād, since it pleaseth you to demaūd, that Antiphilus being crowned, & so left by the famous Princes Musi­dorus & Pyrocles (led thēce by the challenge of Anaxius, who is now in these prouinces of Greece, making a dis­honorable[Page 228] enquirie after that excellent prince Pyrocles alreadie perished) Antiphilus (I say) being crowned, and deliuered from the presence of those two, whose ver­tues (while they were present, good schoolmasters) sup­pressed his vanities, he had not strēgth of mind enough in him to make long delay, of discouering what maner of man he was. But streight like one caried vp to so hie a place, that he looseth the discerning of the ground o­uer which he is; so was his mind lifted so far beyōd the leuell of his owne discourse, that remembring only that himselfe was in the high seate of a King, he coulde not perceiue that he was a king of reasonable creatures, who would quickly scorne follies, and repine at iniuries. But imagining no so true propertie of souereigntie, as to do what he listed, and to list whatsoeuer pleased his fansie, he quickly made his kingdome a Teniscourt, where his subiects should be the balles; not in truth cruelly, but licenciously abusing them, presuming so far vpon him­selfe, that what he did was liked of euery bodie: nay, that his disgraces were fauours, and all because he was a King. For in Nature not able to conceyue the bonds of great matters (suddenly borne into an vnknowne Ocean of absolute power) he was swayed withall (he knewe not howe) as euerie winde of passions puffed him. Whereto nothing helped him better, then that poysonous sugar of flatterie: which some vsed, out of the innate basenesse of their hart, straight like dogges sawning vppon the greatest; others secretely hating him, and disdayning his great rising so suddenly, so vndeseruedly (finding his humour) bent their exal­ting him only to his ouerthrow; like the bird that caries the shell-fish high, to breake him the easier with his fall.[Page] But his minde (being an apt matter to receiue what forme their amplifying speeches woulde lay vpon it) daunced so prettie a musicke to their false measure, that he thought himselfe the wysest, the woorthyest, and best beloued, that euer gaue honour to a royall tytle. And being but obscurely borne, he had found out vnblushing pedegrees, that made him not onely of the blood royall, but true heyre, vniustly dispossest by E­ronas auncestours. And like the foolish birde, that when it so hides the heade that it sees not it selfe, thinkes no bodie else sees it: so did he imagine, that no bodie knew his basenesse, while he himselfe turned his eyes from it.

argument key no. 2 Then vainenesse (a meager friend to gratefulnesse) brought him so to despise Erona, as of whom he had re­ceiued no benefit, that within halfe a yeeres mariage he began to pretend barrennesse: and making first an vn­lawfull law of hauing mo wiues then one, he still kee­ping Erona, vnder-hād, by message sought Artaxia, who no lesse hating him, then louing (as vnluckie a choise) the naughtie King Plexirtus, yet to bring to passe what he purposed, was content to train him into false hopes, till alreadie his imagination had crowned him King of Armenia, & had made that, but the foundation of more, and more monarchies; as if fortune had only gottē eies to cherish him. In which time a great assembly of most part of al the Princes of Asia being to do honour to the neuer sufficiently praised Pyrocles & Musidorus, he would be one not to acknowledge his obligation (which was as great as any of the others,) but looking to haue bene young master among those great estates, as he was amōg his abusing vnderlings. But so many valorous Princes,[Page 229] in-deed farre neerer to disdaine him then otherwise, he was quickly (as standing vpon no true ground, inward­ly) out of countenance with himselfe, till his seldom-cō ­fortlesse flatterers (perswading him, it was enuie & feare of his expected greatnes) made him hast away frō that company, & without further delay appointed the mee­ting with Artaxia; so incredibly blinded with the ouer­bright shining of his roialty, that he could thinke such a Queene could be content to be ioined-patent with an other to haue such an husband. Poore Erona to all this obeied, either vehemēcy of affection making her stoop to so ouerbase a seruitude, or astonished with an vnloo­ked-for fortune, dull to any behoofeful resolutiō, or (as many times it falles out euen in great harts when they can accuse none but thēselues) desperatly bent to main­taine it. For so went she on in that way of her loue, that (poore Lady) to be beyond all other examples of ill-set affection, she was brought to write to Artaxia, that she was content, for the publike good, to be a second wife, and yeeld the first place to her: nay to extoll him, and euen woo Artaxia for him.

But Artaxia (mortally hating them both for her bro­thers argument key no. 3 sake) was content to hide her hate, til she had time to shewe it: and pretending that all her grudge was a­gainst the two paragons of vertue, Musidorus & Pyrocles, euen met them halfe way in excusing her brothers mur­der, as not being principall actors; and of the other-side, driuen to what they did by the euer-pardonable neces­sitie: and so well handled the matter, as, though she promised nothing, yet Antiphilus promised himselfe all that she woulde haue him thinke. And so a solemne enteruiew was appointed. But (as the Poets say) Hymen [Page] had not there his saffron-coloured cote. For Artaxia laying men secretly (and easily they might be secret, since Antiphilus thought she ouerran him in loue) when he came euen readie to embrace her, shewing rather a countenaunce of accepting then offering, they came forth, and (hauing much aduauntage both in number, valure, and fore-preparation) put all his companie to the sword; but such as could flie away. As for Antiphi­lus she caused him and Erona both to be put in irons, ha­sting backe toward her brothers tombe, vpō which she ment to sacrifice them; making the loue of her brother stand betwene her and all other motions of grace, from which by nature she was alienated.

argument key no. 4 But great diuersitie in them two quickely discouered it selfe for the bearing of that affliction. For Antiphilus that had no greatnesse but outwarde, that taken away, was readie to fall faster then calamitie could thrust him; with fruitlesse begging (where reason might well assure him his death was resolued) and weake bemoning his fortune, to giue his enemies a most pleasing musique, with manie promises, and protestations, to as little purpose, as from a little minde. But Erona sadde in-deede, yet like one rather vsed, then new fallen to sadnesse (as who had the ioyes of her hart alreadie broken) seemed rather to welcome then to shunne that ende of miserie, speaking little, but what she spake was for Antiphilus, remembring his guiltlesnesse, being at that time priso­ner to Tiridates, when the valiant princes slue him: to the disgrace of men, shewing that there are women more wise to iudge what is to be expected, and more constant to beare it when it is happened.

argument key no. 5 But her witte endeared by her youth, her affliction[Page 230] by her birth, and her sadnesse by her beautie, made this noble prince Plangus, who (neuer almost from his cousin Artaxia) was nowe present at Eronaes taking, to perceyue the shape of louelinesse more perfectly in wo, then in ioyfulnesse (as in a picture which receiues greater life by the darkenesse of shadowes, then by more glittering colours) and seeing to like; and liking to loue; and louing straight to feele the most incident effects of loue, to serue and preserue. So borne by the hastie tide of short leysure, he did hastily deliuer toge­ther his affection, and affectionate care. But she (as if he had spoken of a small matter, when he mencioned her life, to which she had not leisure to attend) desired him if he loued her, to shew it, in finding some way to saue Antiphilus. For her, she found the world but a wearisom stage vnto her, where she played a part against her will: and therefore besought him, not to cast his loue in so vnfruitfull a place, as could not loue it selfe: but for a testimonie of constancie, and a sutablenes to his word, to do so much comfort to her minde, as that for her sake Antiphilus were saued. He tolde me how much he argued against her tendering him, who had so vngrate­fully betraied her, and foolishly cast away himselfe. But perceiuing she did not only bend her very good wits to speake for him against her-selfe, but when such a cause could be allied to no reasō, yet loue would needs make it-self a cause, & barre her rather frō hearing, then yeeld that she should yeeld to such arguments: he likewise in whō the power of Loue (as they say of spirits) was sub­iect to the loue in her, with griefe cōsented, & (though backwardly) was diligēt to labor the help of Antiphilus: a man whom he not onely hated, as a trair our to Erona, [Page] but enuied as a possessor of Erona. Yet Loue sware, his hart, in spite of his hart, should make him become a ser­uant to his riuall. And so did he, seeking all the meanes of perswading Artaxia, which the authority of so neere, and so vertuous a kinsmā would giue vnto him. But she to whom the eloquence of hatred had giuen reuenge the face of delight, reiected all such motions; but rather the more closely imprisoning them in her chiefe citie, where she kept them with intention at the birth-day of Tiridates (which was very nere) to execute Antiphilus, & at the day of his death (which was about halfe a yeere after) to vse the same rigor towars Erona. Plangus much grieued (because much louing) attempted the humors of the Lycians, to see, whether they would come in with forces to succor their Princesse. But there the next inhe­ritor to the crowne (with the true play that is vsed in the game of kingdōs) had no sooner his mistres in captiui­ty, but he had vsurped her place, & making her odious to her people, because of the vnfit electiō she had made, had so left no hope there: but which is worse, had sent to Artaxia, perswading the iusticing her, because that vn­iustice might giue his title the name of iustice. Wāting that way, Plangus practised with some deere friends of his, to saue Antiphilus out of prison, whose day because it was much neerer then Eronaes, & that he wel found, she had twisted her life vpō the same threed with his, he determined first to get him out of prison: & to that end ha­uing prepared al matters as wel as in such case he could, where Artaxia had set many of Tiridates old seruants to haue well-marking eyes, he cōferred with Antiphilus, as (by the auothoritie he had) he found meanes to do; & agreed with him of the time and maner, how he should[Page 231] by the death of some of his iaylors escape.

But all being well ordered, and Plangus willinglie argument key no. 6 putting himselfe into the greatest danger, Antiphilus (who, like a bladder, sweld redie to breake, while it was full of the winde of prosperitie, that being out, was so abiected, as apt to be trode on by euery bodie) when it came to the point, that with some hazard, he might be in apparant likelihoode to auoide the vttermost harm, his harte fainted, and (weake foole, neither hoping, nor fearing as he should) gat a conceite, that with bewray­ing his practise, he might obtaine pardon: and there­fore, euen a little before Plangus should haue come vn­to him, opened the whole practise to him that had the charge, with vnpittyed teares idly protesting, he had rather die by Artaxias commaundement, then against her will escape: yet begging life vpon any the hardest, and wretchedest conditions that she woulde lay vpon him. His keeper prouided accordingly, so that when Plangus came, he was like, himself to haue bene entrap­pud: but that finding (with a luckie in-sight) that it was discouered, he retired; and (calling his friendes a­bout him) stood vpon his guard, as he had good cause. For, Artaxia (accounting him most vngrateful, conside­ring that her brother and she, had not onely preserued him against the malice of his father, but euer vsed him much liker his birth, then his fortune) sent forces to ap­prehend him. But he among the martiall men had got­ten so great loue, that he could not onely keep himselfe from the malice, but worke in their mindes a compassi­on of Eronas aduersitie.

But for the succour of Antiphilus he could gette no argument key no. 7 bodie to ioyne with him, the contempt of him ha­uing[Page] not bene able to qualifie the hatred; so that Arta­xia might easilie vpon him perfourme her will; which was (at humble suite of all the women of that citie) to deliuer him to their censure, who mortally hating him for hauing made a lawe of Polygamie, after many tor­tures, forste him to throwe himselfe from a high Pyra­mis, which was built ouer Tiridates tombe, and so to end his fallse-harted life, which had planted no strong thought in him, but that he could be vnkinde.

argument key no. 8 But Plangus well perceiuing that Artaxia staied one­ly for the appointed day, that the faire Eronas bodie, (consumed to ashes) should make a notorious testimo­nie, how deepely her brothers death was engrauen in her brest, he assembled good numbers of friendes, whō his vertue (though a stranger) had tied vnto him, by force to giue her libertie. Contrariwise, Artaxia, to whom Anger gaue more courage then her sexe did feare, vsed her regall authoritie (the most she could) to suppresse that sedition, and haue her will: which (she thought) is the most princely thing that may be. But Plangus, who indeede (as all men witnes) is one of the best captains (both for policie and valour) that are trai­ned in the schoole of Mars, in a conflict ouerthrew Ar­taxias power, though of far greater number: and there toke prisoner a base sonne of her brothers, whom she deerly affected, & then sent her word that he should run the same race of fortune (whatsoeuer it was) that Erona did: & happy was that threatning for her; for els Artaxia had hastened the day of her death, in respecte of those tumults.

argument key no. 9 But now (some principal noble-mē of that countrie interposing thēselues) it was agreed, that all persons els[Page 232] fullie pardoned, and all prisoners (except Erona) deliue­red, she should be put into the hands of a principall no­bleman, who had a castle of great strength, vpon oath, that if by the day two yeare frō Tiridates death, Pyrocles and Musidorus did not in person combat, & ouercome two knights, whō she appointed to maintain her quar­rell against Erona and them, of hauing by treason de­stroyed her brother, that thē Erona should be that same day burned to ashes: but if they came, and had the vic­torie, she should be deliuered; but vpon no occasion, neither freed, nor executed, till that day. And hereto of both sides, all toke solemne oath, and so the peace was concluded; they of Plangus partie forcing him to agree, though he himselfe the sooner condiscended, knowing the courtesie of those two excellent Princes, not to re­fuse so noble a quarrell, and their power such, as two more (like the other two) were not able to resist. But Ar­taxia was more, and vpon better ground, pleased with this action; for she had euen newly receiued newes frō Plexirtus, that vpon the sea he had caused them both to perish, and therefore she held herself sure of the match.

argument key no. 10 But poore Plangus knew not so much, and therefore seeing his partie (as most times it falles out in like case) hungry of conditions of peace, accepted them; & then obteined leaue of the Lord, that indifferently kept her, to visite Erona, whom he founde full of desperate sor­owe, not suffering, neither his vnwoorthinesse, nor his wronges, nor his death (which is the naturall con­clusion of all worldly acts) either to couer with for­getfulnes, or diminish with consideration, the affection she had borne him: but euen glorying in affliction, and shunning all comforte, she seemed to haue no delight, but in making her selfe the picture of miserie.[Page] So that when Plangus came to her, she fell in deadlie traunces, as if in him she had seene the death of Anti­philus, because he had not succoured him: and yet (her vertue striuing) she did at one time acknowledge her selfe bound, and professe her selfe iniured; in steede of allowing the conclusion they had made, or writing to the Princes (as he wisht her to doo) crauing nothing but some speedie death to followe, her (in spite of iust hate) beloued Antiphilus.

argument key no. 11 So that Plangus hauing nothing but a rauisht kisse from her hande at their parting', went away towarde Greece, whetherward he vnderstoode the Princes were embarked. But by the way it was his fortune to inter­cept letters, written by Artaxia to Plexirtus: wherein she signified her accepting him to her husband, whom she had euer fauoured, so much the rather, as he had per­fourmed the conditions of her mariage, in bringing to their deserued end, her greatest enemies: withall, than­king the sea, in such tearmes, as he might well perceiue, it was by some treason wrought in Plexirtus shippe. Whereupon (to make more diligent search) he tooke shippe himselfe, and came into Laconia, enquiring, and by his enquirie finding, that such a shippe was indeede with fight, and fire, perished, none (almost) escaping. But for Pyrocles and Musidorus, it was assuredly determi­ned that they were cast away: for the name of such Princes (especially in Greece) would quickly els haue bene a large witnesse to the contrarie. Full of griefe with that, for the losse of such, who left the world poor of perfection: but more sorie for Eronas sake, who now by them could not be relieued. A new aduertisement from Armenia ouertooke him, which multiplied the[Page 233] force of his anguish. It was a message from the Noble­man who had Erona in ward, giuing him to vnderstād, that since his departure, Artaxia (vsing the benefite of time) had besieged him in his castell, demaunding pre­sent deliuery of her, whom yet for his faith giuen, he would not, before the day appointed, if possibly he could resist, which he foresaw, lōg he should not do for want of victuall, which he had not so wisely prouided, because he trusted vpon the generall oth taken for two yeares space: & therfore willed him to make hast to his succour, & come with no small forces; for all they that were of his side in Armenia, were consumed, & Artaxia had encreased her might by mariage of Plexirtus, who now crowned King there, stickt not to glory in the murder of Pyrocles and Musidorus, as hauing iust cause thereto, in respect of the deaths of his sister Andromana, her sonne his nephew, and his own daughter Zelmane, all whose losse he vniustly charged them withal, & now openly stickt not to cōfesse, what a reuenge his wit had brought forth. Plangus much astonished herewith, be­thought himselfe what to doo. For to returne to Armenia was vaine, since his friends there were vtterly ouer­throwne. Thē thought he of going to his father; but he had already (euen since the death of his stepmother, & brother) attempted the recouering his fauour, & all in vaine. For they, that had before ioined with Andromana to do him the wrong, thought now no life for thē if he returned, & therfore kept him stil (with new forged sus­picions) odious to his father. So that Plangus reseruing that for a worke of longer time, then the sauing of Ero­na could beare, determined to go to the mighty and good King Euarchus: who lately hauing (to his eternall fame) fully, not onely conquered his enimies, but esta­blished[Page] good gouernment in their countries, he ho­ped he might haue present succour of him, both for the iustnes of the cause, & reuenge of his childrens death, by so hainous a treason murthered. Therefore with di­ligence he went to him; & by the way (passing through my country) it was my hap to find him, the most ouer­throwne mā with griefe, that euer I hope to see againe. For stil it seemed he had Erona at a stake before his eies; such an apprehension he had taken of her daunger; which in despite of all the comfort I could giue him, he poured out in such lamentations, that I was moued not to let him passe, till he had made full declaration, which by peeces my daughters & I haue deliuered vn­to you. Fayne he would haue had succour of my selfe, but the course of my life being otherwise bent, I onely accompanied him with some that might safely guide him to the great Euarchus: for my parte hauing had some of his speeches so feelingly in my memory, that at an idle time (as I tolde you) I set them downe Dia­logue-wise, in such manner as you haue seene. And thus, excellent Ladie, I haue obeyed you in this storie; wherein if it well please you to consider, what is the straunge power of Loue, and what is due to his autho­ritie, you shall exercise therein the true noblenesse of your iudgement, and doo the more right to the vnfor­tunate Historian. Zelmane (sighing for Eronaes sake, yet inwardly comforted in that she assured her selfe, Euar­chus would not spare to take in hande the iust deliue­ring of her, ioyned with the iust reuenge of his chil­drens losse) hauing now what she desired of Basilius, to auoide his further discourses of affection, encoura­ged the shepheards to begin, whom she saw all ready for them.

The second Eclogues.

THe rude tumulte of the Enispians gaue occasion to the honest shep­heards to beginne their pastorals this day with a daūce, which they called the skirmish betwixt Reason and Passion. For seuen shepheards (which were named the Reasona­ble shepheards) ioined thēselues; foure of them making a square, and the other two go­ing a litle wide of either side, like winges for the maine battell; and the seuenth man formost, like the forlorne hope to begin the skirmish. In like order came out the seuen appassionated shepheards; all keeping the pase of their foote by their voice, and sundry consorted instru­mēts they held in their armes. And first, the formost of Reasonable side began to sing.

R.
Thou Rebell vile, come, to thy master yelde.
And the other that met with him answered.
P.
No, Tyrant; no: mine, mine shall be the fielde.
Reason.
Can Reason then a Tyraunt counted be?
Passion.
If Reason will, that Passions be not free.
R.
But Reason will, that Reason gouerne most.
P.
And Passion will, that Passion rule the rost.
R.
Your will is will; but Reason reason is.
P.
Will hath his will, when Reasons will doth misse.
R.
Whom Passion leades vnto his death is bent.
P.
And let him die, so that he die content.
R.
By nature you to Reason faith haue sworne.
P,
Not so, but fellowlike together borne.
R.
Who Passion doth ensue, liues in annoy.
P.
Who Passion doth forsake, liues void of ioy.
R.
Passion is blinde, and treades an vnknowne trace
P.
Reason hath eyes to see his owne ill case.

Then as they approched neerer, the two of Reasons sides, as if they shot at the other, thus sange.

R.
Dare Passions then abide in Reasons light?
P.
And is not Reason dimde with Passions might?
R.
O foolish thing, which glory doth destroye.
P.
O glorious title of a foolish toye.
R.
Weakenes you are, dare you with our strength fight?
P.
Because our weaknes weakeneth all your might.
R.
O sacred Reason, helpe our vertuous toiles.
P.
O Passion, passe on feeble Reasons spoiles.
R.
We with ourselues abide a daily strife.
P.
We gladly vse the sweetnes of our life.
R.
But yet our strife sure peace in end doth breede.
P.
We now haue peace, your peace we doo not neede.

Then did the two square battailes meete, & in steed of fighting embrace one another, singing thus.

R.
We are too strong: but Reason seekes no blood.
P.
Who be too weake, do feigne they be too good.
R.
Though we cannot orecome, our cause is iust.
P.
Let vs orecome, and let vs be vniust.
R.
Yet Passion, yeeld at length to Reasons stroke.
P.
What shall we winne by taking Reasons yoke?
R.
The ioyes you haue shall be made permanent.
P.
But so we shall with griefe learne to repent.
R.
Repent indeed, but that shall be your blisse.
P.
How know we that, since present ioyes we misse?
R.
You know it not: of Reason therefore know it.
P.
No Reason yet had euer skill to show it.
R. P.
Then let vs both to heauenly rules giue place,
Which Passions skill, and Reason do deface.

THen embraced they one another, and came to the King, who framed his praises of thē according to Zelmanes liking; whose vnrestrained parts, the minde & eie, had their free course to the delicate Philoclea, whose looke was not short in well requiting it, although she knew it was a hatefull sight to her iealous mother. But Dicus (that had in this time taken a great liking of Do­rus for the good partes he found aboue his age in him) had a delight to taste the fruites of his wit, though in a subiect which he him selfe most of all other despised: and so entred to speach with him in the manner of this following Eclogue.

Dicus. Dorus.
Dicus.
DOrus, tell me, where is thy wonted motion
To make these woods resounde thy lamentation?
Thy sainte is dead, or dead is thy deuotion.
For who doth holde his loue in estimation,
To witnes, that he thinkes his thoughts delicious,
Thinks to make ech thing badge of his sweet passion.
Dorus.
But what doth make thee Dicus so suspicious
Of my due faith, which needs must be immutable?
Who others vertue doubt, themselues are vicious.
Not so; although my mettall were most mutable,
Her beames haue wrought therin most faire impression:
To such a force some chaunge were nothing sutable.
Dicus.
The harte well set doth neuer shunne confession:
If noble be thy bandes, make them notorious:
Silence doth seeme the maske of base oppression.
Who glories in his loue, doth make Loue glorious:
But who doth feare, or bideth muet wilfully,
Showes, guilty harte doth deeme his state opprobrious.
Thou then, that framste both words & voice most skilfully.
Yeeld to our eares a sweet and sound relation,
If Loue tooke thee by force, or caught thee guilefully.
Dorus.
If Sunnie beames shame heau'nly habitation;
If three-leau'd grasse seeme to the sheepe vnsauorie,
Then base and sower is Loues most high vocation.
Or if sheepes cries can helpe the Sunnes owne brauerie,
Then may I hope, my pipe may haue abilitie,
To helpe her praise, who decks me in her slauerie.
No, no: no wordes ennoble selfe-nobilitic.
As for your doubts; her voice was it deceaued me,
Her eye the force beyond all possibilitie.
Dicus.
Thy words well voic'd, well gra'ste had almost heaued me
Quite from my selfe to loue Loues contemplation;
Till of these thoughts thy sodaine ende bereaued me.
Goe on therefore, and tell vs, by what fashion
In thy owne proofe he gets so straunge possession,
And how possest he strengthens his inuasion?
Dorus.
Sight is his roote, in thought is his progression,
His childhood woonder, prenticeship attention,
His youth delight, his age the soules oppression:
Doubte is his sleepe, he waketh in inuention;
Fancie his foode, his clothing is of carefulnes;
Beautie his boote, his play louers dissention:
His eyes are curious search, but vailde with warefulnesse:
His wings desire oft clipt with desperation:
Largesse his hands could neuer skill of sparefulnesse.
But how he doth by might, or by persuasion
To conquere, and his conqnest how to ratifie,
Experience doubts, and schooles holde disputation,
Dicus.
But so thy sheepe may thy good wishes satisfie
With large encrease, and wooll of fine perfection,
So she thy loue, her eyes thy eyes may gratifie,
As thou wilt giue our soules a deare refection,
By telling how she was, how now she framed is
To helpe, or hurt in thee her owne infection.
Dorus.
Blest be the name, wherewith my mistres named is:
Whose wounds are salues, whose yokes please more then pleasure doth:
Her staines are beames; vertue the fault she blamed is.
The hart, eye, eare here onely find his treasure doth:
All numbring artes her endlesse graces number not:
Time, place, life, wit scarcely her rare gifts measure doth.
Is she in rage? so is the Sunne in sommer hot,
Yet haruest brings. Doth she alas absent her selfe?
The Sunne is hid; his kindly shadows cumber not.
But when to giue some grace she doth content herselfe,
O then it shines; then are the heau'ns distributed,
And Venus seemes, to make vp her, she spent herselfe.
Thus then (I say) my mischiefes haue contributed
A greater good by her diuine reflection;
My harmes to me, my blisse to her attributed,
Thus she is framde: her eyes are my direction;
Her loue my life; her anger my destruction.
Lastly what so she is, that's my protection.
Dicus.
Thy safetie sure is wrapped in destruction:
For that construction thine owne wordes do beare.
A man to feare a womans moodie eye,
Makes Reason lie a slaue to seruile Sense.
A weake defence where weakenesse is thy force:
So is remorse in follie dearely bought.
Dorus.
If I had thought to heare blasphemous wordes,
My brest to swords, my soule to hell haue solde
I rather would, then thus mine eares defile
With words so vile, which viler breath doth breed.
O heards take heed; for I a woolfe haue found;
Who hunting round the strongest for to kill,
His breast doth fill with earth of others ioyes,
And loden so puls downe, puld downe destroyes.
O sheepheards boyes, eschue these tongues of venome,
Which do enuenome both the soule and senses.
Our best defenses are to flie these adders.
O tongues like ladders made to clime dishonour,
Who iudge that honour, which hath scope to slander.
Dicus.
Dorus you wander farre in great reproches;
So loue encroches on your charmed reason,
But it is season for to end our singing.
Such anger bringing: as for me, my fancie
In sicke-mans frenzie rather takes compassion,
Then rage for rage: rather my wish I send to thee,
Thou soone may haue some helpe, or change of passion.
She oft her lookes, the starres her fauour bend to thee:
Fortune store, Nature health, Loue grant perswasion.
A quiet mind none but thy selfe can lend to thee,
Thus I commend to thee all our former loue,
Dorus.
Well do I proue, errour lies oft in zeale,
Yet it is seale, though errour, of true hart.
Nought could impart such heates to friendly mind.
But for to find thy words did her disgrace,
Whose onely face the little heauen is,
Which who doth misse his eyes are but delusions,
Barred from their chiefest obiect of delightfulnesse,
Throwne on this earth the Chaos of confusions.
As for thy wish to my enraged spitefulnesse,
The louely blowne with rare reward, my prayer is
Thou mayest loue her that I may see thy sightfulnesse.
The quiet mind (whereof my selfe empairer is,
As thou doest thinke) should most of all disquiet me
Without her loue, then any mind who fairer is.
Her onely cure from surfet-woes can diet me:
She holdes the ballance of my contentation:
Her cleared eyes, nought els, in stormes can quiet me.
Nay rather then my ease discontentation
Should breed to her, let me for aye deiected be
From any ioy, which might her griefe occasion.
With so sweete plagues my happie harmes infected be:
Paine willes me die, yet will of death I mortifie:
For though life irkes, in life my loues protected be.
Thus for ech change my changelesse hart I fortifie.

When they had ended to the good pleasing of the assistants, especially of Zelmane, who neuer forgat to giue due cōmēdations to her friend Dorus, the more to aduance him in his pursute (although therein he had[Page] brought his matters to a more wished conclusion then yet she knew of) out starte a iolly yonker, his name was Nico, whose tongue had borne a very itching silence all this while. And hauing spied one Pas, a mate of his, as mad as himselfe (both indeed lads to clime any tree in the world) he bestowed this maner of salutation vpon him, and was with like reuerence requited.

Nico. Dorus.
Nico.
ANd are you there old Pas? in troth I euer thought,
Among vs all we should find out some thing of nought.
Pas.
And I am here the same, so mote I thriue and thee,
Despairde in all this flocke to find a knaue, but thee.
Nico.
Ah now I see, why thou art in thy selfe so blind:
Thy gray-hood hides the thing, that thou despairst to find.
Pas.
My gray-hood is mine owne, all be it be but gray,
Not like the scrippe thou stol'ste, while Dorcas sleeping lay.
Nico.
Mine was the scrippe: but thou, that seeming raid with loue,
Didst snatch from Cosmas hand her greeny wroughtē gloue.
Pas.
Ah foole; so Courtiers do. But who did liuely skippe,
When for a treene-dish stolne, thy father did thee whippe?
Nico.
In deed the witch thy dam her crouch from shoulder spred,
For pilfring Lalus lambe, with crouch to blesse thy head.
Pas.
My voice the lambe did winne, Menalcas was our iudge:
Of singing match was made, whence he with shame did trudge.
Nico.
Couldst thou make Lalus flie? sø nightingales auoide,
When with the kawing crowes their musicke is annoide.
Pas.
Nay like to nightingales the other birds giue eare:
My pipe and song made him both pipe and song forsweare.
Nico.
I thinke it well: such voice would make one musicke hate:
But if I had bene there, th' adst met another mate.
Pas.
Another sure as is a gander from a goose:
But still when thou dost sing, me thinkes a colt is loose.
Nico.
Well aimed by my hat: for as thou sangst last day;
The neighbours all did crie, alas what asse doth bray?
Pas.
But here is Dicus old; let him then speake the wøord,
To whether with best cause the Nymphes faire flowers affoord.
Nico.
Content: but I will lay a wager hereunto,
That profit may ensue to him that best can do.
I haue (and long shall haue) a white great nimble cat,
A king vpon a mouse, a strong foe to the rat,
Fine eares, long taile he hath, with Lions curbed clawe,
Which oft he lifteth vp, and stayes his lifted pawe,
Deepe musing to himselfe, which after-mewing showes,
Till with lickt beard, his eye of fire espie his foes.
If thou (alas poore if) do winne, then winne thou this,
And if I better sing, let me thy Cosma kisse.
Pas.
Kisse her? now mayst thou kisse. I haue a better match;
A prettie curre it is; his name iwis is Catch,
No eare nor taile he hath, least they should him disgrace,
A ruddie haire his cote, with fine long spectled face:
He neuer musing standes, but with himselfe will play
Leaping at euery flie, and angrie with a flea:
He eft would kill a mouse, but he disdaines to fight,
And makes our home good sport with dauncing bolt vpright.
This is my pawne; the price let Dicus iudgement show;
Such oddes I willing lay; for him and you I know.
Dicus.
Sing then my lads, but sing with better vaine then yet.
Or else who singeth worst, my skill will hardly hit.
Nico.
Who doubts but Pas fine pipe againe will bring
The auncient prayse to Arcad shepheards skill?
Pan is not dead, since Pas beginnes to sing.
Pas.
Who euermore will loue Apollos quill,
Since Nico doth to sing so widely gape?
Nico his place farre better furnish will.
Nico.
Was not this he, who did for Syrinx scape
Raging in woes teach pastors first to plaine?
Do you not heare his voice, and see his shape?
Pas.
This is not he that failed her to gaine,
Which made a Bay, made Bay a holy tree:
But this is one that doth his musicke staine.
Nico.
O Faunes, O Fairies all, and do you see,
And suffer such a wrong? a wrong I trowe,
That Nico must with Pas compared be?
Pas.
O Nymphes, I tell you newes, for Pas you knowe:
While I was warbling out your woonted praise,
Nico would needes with Pas his bagpipe blowe.
Nico.
If neuer I did faile your holy-dayes,
With daunces, carols, or with barlybreake:
Let Pas now know, how Nico makes the layes.
Pas.
If each day hath bene holy for your sake,
Vnto my pipe, O Nimphes, helpe now my pipe,
For Pas well knowes what layes can Nico make.
Nico.
Alas how oft I looke on cherries ripe,
Me thinkes I see the lippes my Leuca hath,
And wanting her, my weeping eyes I wipe.
Pas.
Alas, when I in spring meete roses rathe,
And thinke from Cosmas sweet red lips I liue,
I leaue mine eyes vnwipte my cheekes to bathe.
Nico.
As I of late, neer bushes vsde my siue,
I spied a thrush where she did make her nest,
That will I take, and to my Leuca giue.
Pas.
But long haue I a sparrow gailie drest,
As white as milke, and comming to the call,
To put it with my hand in Cosmas brest.
Nico.
I oft doo sue, and Leuca faith, I shall,
But when I did come neere with heate and hope,
She ranne away, and threw at me a ball.
Pas.
Cosma once said, she left the wicket ope,
For me to come, and so she did: I came,
But in the place found nothing but a rope.
Nico.
When Leuca dooth appeare, the Sunne for shame
Dooth hide himselfe: for to himselfe he sayes,
If Leuca liue, she darken will my fame.
Pas.
When Cosma doth come forth, the Sun displaies
His vtmost light: for well his witte doth know,
Cosmas faire bcames emblemish much his raies.
Nico.
Leuca to me did yester-morning showe
In perfect light, which could not me deceaue,
Her naked legge, more white then whitest snowe.
Pas.
But yesternight by light I did receaue
From Cosmas eyes, which full in darkenes shine,
I sawe her arme, where purest Lillies cleaue.
Nico.
She once starke nak'd did bathe a little tine;
But still (me thought) with beauties from her fell,
She did the waters wash, and make more fine.
Pas.
She once, to coole her selfe, stood in a well,
But euer since that well is well besought,
And for Rose-water sould of rarest smell.
Nico.
To riuers banke, being on walking brought,
She bad me spie her babie in the brooke,
Alas (said I) this babe dooth nurce my thought.
Pas.
As in a glasse I held she once did looke,
I said, my hands well paide her for mine eyes,
Since in my hands selfe goodly sight she tooke.
Nico.
O if I had a ladder for the skies,
I would climbe vp, and bring a prettic starre,
To weare vpon her neck, that open lies.
Pas.
O if I had Apollos golden carre,
I would come downe, and yeeld to her my place,
That (shining now) she then might shine more farre.
Nico.
Nothing (O Leuca) shall thy fame deface,
While shepheards tunes be heard, or rimes be read,
Or while that shepheards loue a louely face.
Pas.
Thy name (O Cosma) shall with praise be spread,
As farre as any shepheards piping be:
As farre as Loue possesseth any head.
Nico.
Thy monument is layd in many a tree,
With name engrau'd: so though thy bodie die,
The after-folkes shall wonder still at thee.
Pas.
So oft these woods haue heard me Cosma crie,
That after death, to heau'n in woods resound,
With Echoes help, shall Cosma, Cosma flie.
Nico.
Peace, peace good Pas, thou weeriest euen the ground
With sluttish song: I pray thee learne to blea,
For good thou mayst yet prooue in sheepish sound.
Pas.
My father hath at home a prettie Iay,
Goe winne of him (for chattering) praise or shame:
For so yet of a conquest speake thou may.
Nico.
Tell me (and be my Pan) the monsters name,
That hath foure legs, and with two onely goes,
That hath foure eyes, and onely two can frame.
Pas.
Tell me (and Phoebus be) what monster growes
With so strong liues, that bodie cannot rest
In ease, vntill that bodie life forgoes.
Dicus.
Enough, enough: so ill hath done the best,
That since the hauing them to neither's due,
Let cat and dog fight which shall haue both you.

SOme speech there streight grew among the hearers, what they should meane by the riddles of the two monsters. But Zelmane, whose harte better delighted in wailefull ditties, as more according to her fortune, she desired Lamon, he would againe repeate some other la­mentation of the still-absent Strephon and Klaius. Basi­lius (as soone as he vnderstood Zelmanes pleasure) com­maunded Lamon vpon paine of his life (as though eue­ry thing were a matter of life and death, that pertained to his mistresse seruice) immediately to sing it: who with great cunning, varying his voice according to the diuersitie of the persons, began this Dizaine, answered in that kinde of verse, which is called the Crowne.

Strephon. Klaius.
Strephon.
I Ioye in griefe, and doo detest all ioyes:
Despise delight, and tyrde with thought of ease
I turne my minde to all formes of annoyes,
And with the chaunge of them my fancie please.
I studie that which may me most displease,
And in despite of that displeasures might,
Embrace that most, that most my soule destroyes.
Blinded with beames, fell darkenes is my sight:
Dole on my ruine feedes, with sucking smarte,
I thinke from me, not from my woes to parte.
Klaius.
I thinke from me, not from my woes to parte,
And loth this time, calld life, nay thinke, that life
Nature to me for torment did emparte;
Thinke, my harde haps haue blunted deaths sharpe knife,
Not sparing me, in whom his workes be rise:
And thinking this, thinke Nature, Life, and Death
Place Sorrowes triumph on my conquered brest:
Whereto I yeeld, and seeke none other breath,
But from the sent of some infectious graue:
Nor of my fortune ought, but mischieue craue.
Strephon.
Nor of my fortune ought but mischiefe craue,
And seeke to nourish that, which now contaynes
All what I am: if I my selfe will saue,
Then must I saue, what in me chiefly raignes,
Which is the hatefull web of Sorowes paines.
Sorow then cherish me, for I am sorowe:
No being now, but sorowe I can haue:
Then decke me as thine owne; thy helpe I borowe,
Since thou my riches arte, and that thou haste
Enough to make a fertill minde lie waste.
Klaius.
Enough to make a fertill minde lie waste
Is that huge storme, which powres it selfe on me:
Hailestones of teares, of sighes a monstrous blast,
Thunders of cries; lightnings my wilde lookes be,
The darkened heau'n my soule which nought can see;
The flying sprites which trees by rootes vp teare
Be those despaires, which haue my hopes quite wast.
The difference is; all folkes those stormes forbeare:
But I cannot; who then my selfe should flie
So close vnto my selfe my wrackes doo lie.
Strephon.
So close vnto my selfe my wrackes doo lie;
Both cause, effect, beginning, and the ende
Are all in me: what helpe then can I trie?
My ship, my selfe; whose course to loue doth bende,
Sore beaten doth her mast of Comforte spende:
Her cable, Reason, breakes from anchor, Hope:
Fancie, her tackling, torne away doth flie:
Ruine, the winde, hath blowne her from her scope:
Brused with waues of Cares, but broken is
On rocke, Despaire, the buriall of my blisse.
Klaius.
On rocke, Despaire, the buriall of my blisse
I long doo plowe with plough of deepe Desire:
The seed Fast-meaning is, no truth to misse:
I harowe it with Thoughts, which all conspire
Fauour to make my chiefe and onely hire.
But, woe is me, the yeare is gone about,
And now I faine would reape, I reape but this,
Hate fully growne, Absence new sprongen out.
So that I see, although my sight empaire,
Vaine is their paine, who labour in Despaire.
Strephon.
Vaine is their paine, who labour in Despaire.
For so did I, when with my angle, Will,
I sought to catch the fish Torpedo faire.
Eu'n then Despaire did Hope already kill:
Yet Fancie would perforce employ his skill,
And this hath got; the catcher now is caught,
Lamde with the angle, which it selfe did beare,
And vnto death, quite drownde in Dolours, brought
To death, as then disguisde in her faire face.
Thus, thus I had, alas, my losse in chase.
Klaius.
Thus, thus I had, alas, my losse in chase,
When first that crowned Basiliske I knewe,
Whose footesteps I with kisses oft did trace,
Till by such hap, as [...] must euer rewe,
Mine eyes did light vpon her shining hewe,
And hers on me, astonisht with that sight.
Since then my harte did loose his wonted place,
Infected so with her sweet poysons might,
That, leauing me for dead, to her it went:
But ah her flight hath my dead reliques spent.
Strephon.
But ah her flight hath my dead reliques spent,
Her flight from me, from me, though dead to me,
Yet liuing still in her, while her beames lent
Such vitall sparke, that her mine eyes might see.
But now those liuing lights absented be,
Full dead before, I now to dust should fall,
But that eternall paines my soule should bent,
And keepe it still within this body thrall:
That thus I must, while in this death I dwell,
In earthly fetters feele a lasting hell.
Klaius.
In earthly fetters feele a lasting hell
Alas I doo; from which to finde release,
I would the earth, I would the heauens fell.
But vaine it is to thinke these paines should cease,
Where life is death, and death cannot breed peace.
O faire, ô onely faire, from thee, alas,
These foule, most foule, distresses to me fell;
Since thou from me (ô me) ô Sunne didst passe.
Therefore esteeming all good blessings toyes
I ioy in griefe, and doo detest all ioyes.
Strephon.
I ioye in griefe, and doo detest all ioyes.
And now an ende, (ô Claius) now an ende
For euen the hearbes our mournefull musique stroyes,
And from our burning breath the trees doo bende.

So wel did Lamons voice expresse the passiōs of those shepheards, that all the Princely beholders were stri­ken in a silent cōsideration of them; indeed euery one making, that he heard of another the balāce of his own troubles. And Basilius perceiuing such melancholique musique best consorted to the humor of his mistresse, entreated againe the young melancholy shepheard, that he would emparte some part of the sorow his coū ­tenaunce so well witnessed vnto them. Which he in parte to satisfie, began an Eclogue betwixt himself and the Echo: framing his voice in those deserte places, as what words he would haue the Echo replie vnto, those he would singe higher then the rest, and so kindly fra­med a disputation betwixt himselfe and it. Which with these Hexameters in the following order he vttered.

[Strephon and] Echo
FAire rocks, goodly riuers, sweet woods, when shall I see peace? [Echo:] Peace.
Peace? who debars me my tongue? who is it that comes me so nie? [Echo:] I.
O I doo know what guest I doo meete: it is Echo. [Echo:] T'is Echo
Wellmett Echo; aproch, and tell me thy will too. [Echo:] I will too.
Echo, what doo I get yeelding my sprite to my grieues? [Echo:] Grieues.
What medicine may I finde for a paine that drawes me to death? [Echo:] Death.
O poïs'nous medicine: what worse to me can be then it? [Echo:] It.
In what state was I then, when I tooke this deadly disease? [Echo:] Ease.
And what maner a minde, which had to that humor a vaine? [Echo:] Vaine.
Hath not reason enough vehemence the desire to reproue? [Echo:] Proue.
Ost proue I: but what salue, when Reason seeks to be gone? [Echo:] One.
O what is it? what is it, that may be a salue to my loue? [Echo:] Loue.
What doo louers seeke for, long sceking for t' enioye? [Echo:] Ioye.
What be the ioyes, for which t' enioye they went to the paines? [Echo:] Paines.
Then to an earnest loue what doth best victorie lende? [Echo:] Ende.
Ende? but I can neuer ende: Loue will not giue me the leaue. [Echo:] Leaue.
How be the mindes disposde, that cannot taste the Physicke? [Echo:] Sicke.
Tet say againe th' aduice for th'ils that I tolde thee. [Echo:] I told thee.
Doth th' infected wretch of his ill th' extremitie know? [Echo:] No.
But if he know not his harmes, what guids hath he whilst he be blind? [Echo:] Blinde.
What blinde guides can he haue that leades to a fancie? [Echo:] A fancie.
Can fancies wante eyes? or he fall that steppeth alost? [Echo:] Oft.
What causes first made these torments on me to light? [Echo:] Light.
Can then a cause be so light, that forceth a man to goe die? [Echo:] I.
Tet tell, what light thing I had in me to drawe me to die? [Echo:] Eye.
Eie-sight made me to yeeld: but what first pearst to my eyes? [Echo:] Eyes.
Eyes hurters? eyes hurte? but what from them to me falls? [Echo:] Falls.
But when I first did fall, what brought most fall to my harte? [Echo:] Arte.
Arte? what can be that arte, which thou doost meane by thy speach? [Echo:] Speach.
What be the fruites of speaking arte, what growes by the wordes? [Echo:] Wordes.
O much more then wordes: those wordes seru'd more me to blesse. [Echo:] Lesse.
O when shall I be knowne, where most to be known I doo long? [Echo:] Longe.
Long by thy woes for such bad newes: how recks she my thoughts? [Echo:] Oughts.
Then, then what doo I gayne, since vnt' her will I doo winde? [Echo:] Winde.
Winde, tempests, and scornes: yet in ende what giues she desire? [Echo:] Ire.
Silly rewarde: yet aboue women hath she a title. [Echo:] A tittle.
What great name may I giue to so heau'nly a woman? [Echo:] A wo-man.
Woc, but seems to me ioye, that agrees to my thought so. [Echo:] I thought so.
Thinke so: for of my desired blisse it is onely the course. [Echo:] Course.
Curst be thy selfe for cursing that, which leades me to ioyes. [Echo:] T'oyes.
What be the sweete creatures where lowly demaundes be not harde? [Echo:] Harde.
Harde to be gott, but got constant, to be helde very steeles. [Echo:] Eeles.
How be they helde vnkinde? Speake, for th'hast narrowly pry'de. [Echo:] Pride.
How can pride come there since springs of beautie be thence? [Echo:] Thence.
Horrible is this blasphemie vnto the most holie. [Echo:] O lye.
Thou list, false Echo, their mindes, as vertue, be iuste. [Echo:] Iuste.
Mockst thou those Diamonds, which onely bematcht by the Godds? [Echo:] Odds.
Odds? what an odds is there, since them to the heau'ns I preferre? [Echo:] Erre.
Tell yet againe, how name ye the goodly made euill? [Echo:] A deuill.
Deuill? where hell if such Deuill is, to that hell I doo goe. [Echo:] Goe.

After this well placed Echo, the other shepheards were offring them­selues to haue continued the sports: But the night had so quietly spent most part of her selfe, that the King for that time licensed them: & so bringing Zelmane to her lodging, who would much rather haue done the same for Philoclea, of all sides they went to counterfait a sleep in their beds, for a true one their agonies could not afoord them. Yet there lay they (for so might they be most solitarie) for the foode of their thoughts, till it was neere noone the next day. After which Basilius was to continue his Apollo deuotions, and the other to meditate vpon their priuate desires.

The end of the second Booke.

THE THIRDE BOOKE OF THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.

CHAP. 1.

Dorus-his 1 faire and 2 foule weather in his loue. 3 His forlorne agonies. 4 His doubts to write, 5 and Pamelaes to reade, 6 his elegie.

THis last dayes daunger,argument key no. 1 hauing made Pamelaes loue discerne, what a losse it should haue suf­fered, if Dorus had bene destroyed, bredde such tendernesse of kindnes in her toward him: that she coulde no longer keepe Loue from loo­king through her eyes, and going forth in her words; whom before as a close prisoner she had to her hart onely committed; so as sin­ding not only by his speeches & letters, but by the piti­full oratiō of a languishing behauior, & the easily discy­phered character of a sorowful face, that Despair began nowe to threaten him destruction, she grewe con­tent both to pitie him, and let him see she pityed him: as well by making her owne beautifull beames thawe away the former icinesse of her behauiour, as[Page] by entertaining his discourses (whensoeuer he did vse them) in the third person of Musidorus; to so farre a de­gree, that in the ende she said, that if she had bene the Princesse, whom that disguised Prince had vertuously loued, she would haue requited his faith with faithfull affection: finding in her hart, that nothing could so har­tily loue as vertue: with many mo words to the same sense of noble fauour, & chast plainnesse. Which when at the first it made that expected blisse shine vpon Do­rus; he was like one frozen with extremitie of colde, o­uer hastily brought to agreat fire, rather oppressed, then relieued with such a lightning of felicitie. But after the strength of nature had made him able to feel the sweet­nesse of ioyfulnes, that again being a child of Passion, & neuer acquainted with mediocrity, could not set boūds vpon his happines, nor be cōtent to giue Desire a king­dome, but that it must be an vnlimited Monarchy. So that the ground he stood vpon being ouer-high in hap­pines, & slipperie through affection, he could not hold himselfe frō falling into such an error, which with sighs blew all cōfort out of his brest, & washt away all cheer­fulnes of his cheere, with teares. For this fauour filling him with hope, Hope encouraging his desire, & Desire considering nothing, but oportunitie: one time (Mopsa being called away by her mother, & he left alone with Pamelia) the sudden occasion called Loue, & that neuer staid to aske Reasons leaue; but made the too-much lo­uing Dorus take her in his armes, offering to kisse her, and, as it were, to establish a trophee of his victorie.

argument key no. 2 But she, as if she had bin ready to drinke a wine of ex­cellent tast & colour, which suddenly she perceiued had poison in it, so did she put him away frō her: loking first[Page 245] vnto heauen, as amazed to find herselfe so beguiled in him; then laying the cruel punishment vpon him of an­gry Loue, and lowring beautie, shewing disdain, & a de­spising disdain, Away (said she) vnworthy man to loue, or to be loued. Assure thy selfe, I hate my selfe for being so deceiued; iudge then what I doo thee, for deceiuing me. Let me see thee no more, the only fall of my iudge­ment, and staine of my conscience. With that she called Mopsa, not staying for any answer (which was no other, but a flood of tears, which she semed not to mark much lesse to pity) & chid her for hauing so left her alone.

It was not an amazement, it was not a sorrow, but it argument key no. 3 was euen a death, which then laid hold of Dorus: which certainly at that instant would haue killed him, but that the feare to tary longer in her presence (contrary to her cōmandement) gaue him life to cary himselfe away frō her sight, and to run into the woods, where, throwing himselfe downe at the foot of a tree, he did not fall to lamentation, for that proceeded of pitying) or grie­uing for himselfe (which he did no way) but to curses of his life, as one that detested himselfe. For finding himselfe not onely vnhappy, but vnhappie after being salne from all happinesse: and to be falne from all hap­pines, not by any misconceiuing, but by his own fault, and his fault to be done to no other but to Pamela: he did not tender his owne estate, but despised it; greedi­ly drawing into his minde, all conceipts which might more and more torment him. And so remained he two dayes in the woods, disdaining to giue his bodie food, or his mind comfort, louing in himselfe nothing, but the loue of her. And indeed that loue onely straue with the fury of his anguish, telling it, that if it destroyed Do­rus, [Page] it should also destroy the image of her that liued in Dorus: and when the thought of that was crept in vnto him, it begā to win of him some cōpassion to the shrine of the image, & to bewaile not for himselfe (whō he ha­ted) but that so notable a loue should perish. Thē began he onely so farre to wish his owne good, as that Pamels might pardon him the fault, though not the punish­ment: & the vttermost height he aspired vnto, was, that after his death, she might yet pittie his error, and know that it proceeded of loue, and not of boldnesse.

argument key no. 4 That conceipt found such friendship in his thoughts, that at last he yelded, since he was banished her presēce, to seeke some meanes by writing to shew his sorrow, & testifie his repentance. Therfore getting him the neces­sarie instruments of writing, he thought best to coūter­faire his hand (fearing that as alreadie she knew his, she would cast it away as soone as she saw it) and to put it in vers, hoping, that would draw her on to read the more, chusing the Elegiac as fittest for mourning. But pen did neuer more quakingly performe his office; neuer was paper more double moistned with inke & teares; neuer words more slowly maried together, & neuer the Muses more tired, then now with changes & rechanges of his deuises: fearing howe to ende, before he had resolued how to begin, mistrusting ech word, condemning eche sentence. This word was not significant, that word was too plain: this would not be cōceiued; the other would be il conceiued. Here Sorow was not inough expressed; there he seemed too much for his owne sake to be sory. This sentence rather shewed art, then passion; that sen­tence rather foolishly passionate, then forcibly mouing. At last, marring with mending, and putting out better,[Page 246] then he left, he made an end of it; & being ended, & di­uerse times ready to teare it: till his reason assuring him, the more he studied, the worse it grew, he folded it vp, deuoutly inuoking good acceptation vnto it; and wat­ching his time, when they were all gone one day to dinner (sauing Mopsa) to the other lodge, stale vp into Pamelaes chamber, and in her stādish (which first he kis­sed; and craued of it a safe and friendly keeping) left it there, to be seene at her next vsing her inke (himselfe re­turning againe to be true prisoner to desperate sorrow) leauing her standish vpon her beds head, to giue her the more occasion to marke it: which also fell out.

For she