IN the time, when the re­uested earth doth shew it selfe more plea­sant and fayrer, then in any other season of the yéere: borne of most noble parents, and receiued heere of bountifull and fa­uourable Fortune, I came into thys Worlde.

Accursed bée that day, and hated of me more then any o­ther, in the which I first enioyed this common light. Howe happy had I béene (alas) if I had neuer béene borne, or if I had at the time of my vnfortunate byrth, béene carryed to my graue, or had not breathed anie longer time, then the téeth sowne of Cadmus: or els,The menne borne that were sowne of Cadmus teeth, lyued but a day if Lachesis at one and selfe same howre, had begunne and cut in too her vitall thredde: because then, in that small time of life, these infinite woes, which are nowe a sorrowfull occasion to putte my penne to Paper, shoulde wyth the same haue béene concluded. But what dooth it nowe auayle for these causes to lament? For héere I am neuerthelesse by the generall decrées and plea­sures of the Goddes.

Béeing receiued then (as I haue sayde) in most hygh de­lights, and nourished onelie amongst them, and in my yong and tender yéeres, brought vppe vnder a reuerend and sage Matrone, I easilie learned euerie good qualitie, which was most conuenient and commendable for anie yong and noble Woman. And as my personage did wyth passed yéeres en­crease, so were my beauties also multiplied, which were the [Page] onely and especiall occasions of all my sorrowes, and infinite gréefes. Alas (although I was yet but a little one) how great lie did I glory with my selfe, in hearing my commendati­ons in euery ones mouth, and did therefore with arte and industrie dailie studie to make them more perfect and curi­ons.

But arriued nowe from my childhoode, to a more full and ryper age, and conceauing by the instincts of nature, with what burning desires amorous yong Gentlewomen may entice yong and wanton youthes, I perceiued that my surpassing beautie,Beauty hurt full to her that hath it. (a myserable gift to her, who loues to leade a vertuous life) did not onelie incende most of al those yong Gentlemen, who liued at y^e time in florishing youthe like my selfe, but manie other noble menne, with a feruent and amorous fire: who infinite times with diuers dryfts, manie meanes, and sundry slights, (vnknowne to mee as then) did attempt to kindle mee with that fire, wherewith they themselues did burne, and that it should not then onely scorche mee, but in processe of time, in long and lingering flames vtterlie consume mée. And of manie with earnest sute, as well to my Parents, as especiallie to mée, I was requested in marriage. But after that one among all the rest (a most absolute (in my opinion) and perfect Gentleman) had wonne that prize, for which they striued all, the impor­tunous and troublesome route of wooers (béeing nowe past all hope,) did cease to sullicite mée anie more with their cun­ning and dailie pursutes. Wherefore remaining in iust con­tent with my louing Husbande, I liued a most happy & ioy­full Woman, vntill furious Loue with a secrete kinde of vnknowne fire, and neuer felt of mée before, entred into my tender and yong breast. Alas there was not anie thing, that might sa [...]is-fye either my desire, or any Womans els, which presently I had not for my pleasure and cōtentation. I was the onelie ioy, and singuler felicitie of my yong Husbande, and as hee was truely beloued of mee, so did hee equally and greatlie loue me againe.

O how happy might I haue thought my selfe aboue all [Page 2] other Women, if this newe loue had for euer continued in­uiolated in my hart? Lyuing therefore in great happinesse, and spending my youthfull yéeres in daylie sports, and ioy­full feastes, false Fortune, the suddaine chaunger of worldly things, and most enuious of the selfe same goods that she had earst bestowed on me, purposing nowe to withdrawe her hande, and not knowing by what meanes to spett forth her venome, with subtile and Sophisticall arguments, made an aduerse way (leading to the Dungion of sorrowe) open to mine eyes. And truely by no other meanes, but by those by which fonde Loue entred into my hart shee could entrap me, or vse her force at all, but the Gods fauorable to me, and carefull of my affayres, perceiuing her couert and malitious guyles, did intend to arme my yéelding hart and féeble breast with weapons, if I hadde béene so wyse to haue taken and vsed them for my defence, because I might come forewarned and not vnarmed to the battayle in the which I should mi­serablye haue fallen. Wherefore with a manifest vision in my dreames, the verie night before y^e day (that dismall day I saie) did come, which was the sorrowfull beginning of my endles paynes, and losse of libertie, they did cléerely admo­nish me of future accidents in this sort.

Mée thought lying in a faire broade bedde, with euerie part of my bodie resolued into deepe sléepe,Dreames somtimes foretell things to come. I sawe the fay­rest and brightest day that might be, and my selfe (I knowe not how) more iocant and merrie, then euer I had béene be­fore. And ioying all alone in this kind of mirth, I did ima­gine that I sat in a swéete Medowe, vpon the gréene grasse, and amongst manie golden and pleasant flowres, defended from the heate of the Sunne, and frō his parching beames, with manie coole shadowes of diuers Trées, newly appa­relled with thicke and gréene leaues. And hauing gathered manie flowres in the same, wherewith all that place was most brauelie depainted, with my lyllie white handes I did seperate one from another, as they lay confused and mingled in my lappe, and with the finest that I coulde picke out, I made a fayre and little Garlande, wherewith I did adorne [Page] my statelie head. Beautified thus, and rysing vp (as Proser­pina did, when Pluto didde rauishe her from her mother) I went singing vp and downe in this pleasant and trym Me­dowe, reioysing at the entrance of merrie Springtide. And afterwards, féeling my selfe somewhat wearie, I layde mée downe amongst the thickest and freshest grasse to reste my selfe a little. But like as that little hydden Viper did pricke Euridices tender foote, euen so a lurking and créeping Ser­pent did likewyse appeare to my sight, as I lay along vpon the soft and thicke grasse, the which (me thought) did wyth her cruell tongue sting me vnder the left pappe, which veni­mous byting, at the first entrance of her sharpe téeth, dydde séeme to burne me like a scalding and fierie flame. And then béeing almost assured, and past feare of y^e worst, mee thought I put the colde Serpent into my burning bosome, imagy­ning that wyth the benefit of her colde skynne, she shoulde a little ease me, and be more fauourable vnto me for this gen­tle déede. But emboldened rather by the same, and nowe be­come more fierce then before, to the foresayd sting, she reioy­ned her cruell mouth, and hauing after a good while sucked a great quantitie of my vitall blood, me thought, that meerely going out from my wounded bosome, (though I did stryue to y^e contrarie) she went also away wyth my fainting soule. At the departing of which, the golden day obscured, and (like a shadow driuen by the Sunne comming behind me) did co­uer me all ouer, after which followed a foggy & mistye dark­nes, accompanied with multitudes of black & thick clowdes, which hanging vpon it, did séeme to bee drawne after, and like a confused and difformed Chaos to follow. And not long after, (as a little white stone cast into a déepe and cléere wa­ter, doth by little and little vanish away from the sighte of them that doo beholde it) euen so was the brightnes of thys Sunne shyne day taken away from my dimmed sight. Then might I perceiue the Heauens to bee ouercome with dark­nes, and the gladsome Sun retyred backe, and obscure night approching, made me call to mind, that this suddaine altera­tion was not vnlike vnto that, which happened to the Gre­cians, [Page 3] when the Sunne did hide his face,Atreus hys fault was, that hee made the Father, which was his brother, to eate hys owne Son, wherupon the Sun re­tired backe againe, be­cause it would not see so wic­ked a messe and table. because he woulde not for shame behold the enormitie of Atreus his foule fault. The fearefull lightnings péecemeale glaunced vp and down in the ayre, and cracking thunders made the earth, but mée most of all afraide. And the wound which vntill this time, had but onely stunge mée (me thought) by reason of the late byting, remaining now full of viperous venome, ouerranne, and occupyed all my bodie with most filthie and lothsome swellings, no secrets of phisicke béeing able to cure y^e same. Whereuppon féeling my selfe at the first without any spi­rite, and afterwardes the force of the poyson by more subtill entraunces serching euerie vaine of my hart, I tumbled and tossed my selfe vp and downe the gréene grasse, expecting al­wayes when death would assaile mee. And nowe the finall howre (to my thinking) béeing come, terrified also with the horror of the time, and with the extreame gréefe of my in­fected hart, attending the mortall stroke of death, made mee to shryke and start on a suddaine in such sort, that it caused my deadly sléeping bodie to shake againe, and so brake mee out of that horrible and gastlie dreame.

After the which (as it was very suddaine) and not a lit­tle afraide also of those things, which (me thought) I hadde séene, with my right hand I made great spéede to my bytten left side, séeking that presently there, which was afterwards prepared for me in time to come. But yet when I found no wound, nor anie signe thereof, passing merrie againe, and carelesse, I began to deride, and laughe at the foolishnesse of dreames, and so accounted the labour of the Goddes héerein but vaine. But, wretch that I am, how iustly (though then I scorned them) haue I afterwardes to my greate gréefe of minde beléeued, and found them most true, and planted them without anie fruite, béeing no lesse gréeued at the Gods, who declare their secrets to vncapable minds with so greate ob­scuritie, the which no sooner shewed, but incontinently they happen. Béeing therefore thorowlie awaked, I lifted vppe my head, and by a little creuisse in the dore, did sée Titan for­sake Auroras Chamber, and enter into mine. Wherefore [Page] casting all such fond conceits aside, I rose vp.

That was a high and festiuall day almost to all y^e world, in the which euerie one, to honor the solemnitie of it, atty­red themselues with their best and brauest robes: where­fore, apparrelling my selfe moste curiously with garments woouen with shyning Golde, and with cunning and skilfull hande, setting euerie thing in euery part about me in the fi­nest order, & adorned like to y^e fayrest of those thrée Goddes­ses, which Paris sawe in the Valies of Ida, I prepared my selfe to goe to this solemne and high feast. And while I was beholding my selfe on euerie side, not otherwise then the Pecock doth her gay Feathers, and imagining as well to please others, as my selfe, one of my flowres (broken from my crowne by the Curtaine of the bedde, or els perhappes plucked from my heade by some celestiall & inuisible hande) fell from my head to the ground. But I, taking no regarde of the secrete operations of the Goddes, and estéeming it as nothing, tooke it vppe, and put it in his former place againe, and so passed it slightlie ouer.

Alas what more manifest signe coulde the Goddes giue me of that, which afterwards did happen then this. Truely none at all. This had béene sufficient inough to declare vnto me, that my soule, that day so frée, and mistresse of it selfe, laying downe her swéete signorie, shoulde bee made seruile and bonde, as it happened indéede. Oh if my mind had béene sounde, howe had I not then foreknowne y^t day, (that blac­kest day) that afterwards happened vnto me, and had safely ouerpassed it without going once out of my dores. But the Goddes although they lende them (with whom they are an­gry) certaine signes and tokens of their welfare, yet do they neuerthelesse depriue them of the due knowledg of y^e same. And so in one howre séeme to doo their willing deuoyre, and to fulfill their wrathfull minds. My hard destinies therfore did (as it were) driue me on forwards like a vain & carelesse Woman, and béeing accompanied with many Gentlewo­men, that serued on my trayne, with a soft and stately pace, I went to the holy Temple, in which the sollemne and di­uine [Page 4] office, due for that day, was celebrated. The antiquitie of my generous predecessors, and my nobilitie also had re­serued a high place for me, amongst other most excellent and worthie Ladies there, in the which, after that I was sette, obseruing my olde custome, which was, in suddainly casting mine eyes rounde about, I sawe the Church equally full of of Men and Women, in diuers companies, diuersly to em­ploy themselues. But no sooner was I espyed in y^e Temple, though in the midst of sacred seruice time, but (as it was a cōmon thing many times before so then did it also fall out) that not Men onely, but euery woman did turne their eies towards mee, to beholde mée: and wondering at mee, as if Venus or Minerua (neuer séene of them before) hadde béene verelie come down from Heauen amongst them.

O howe manie times did I smyle with my selfe, féeling such content to tickle mee, and glorying in my selfe no lesse then a Goddesse, béeing not a little proude of all these moste happy fauours. All the company therfore of yong Gentle­men,A fine de­scription of a trim wo­man, leauing of (at sight of me) to gaze vpon other Gentle­women, (of which there was no small number of rare and passing beautie) and placing themselues about me, didde in manner of a Crowne compasse me round about. And euerie one after his owne fancie, speaking and diuersly discoursing of my beautie, but all concurring and concluding in one sen­tence, did highlie extoll and commende it. But I, who with mine eyes turned another way, made a semblaunce to busie my mind in deuotions, but giui [...] [...] talke, did conceiue and féele [...] desired pleasure and co [...] [...] [...] ing my selfe greatlie beh [...] [...] eye and pleasant regarde [...] gaine. Whereupon I mig [...] [...] [...] nie of them fondly conceiui [...] [...] hope thereof, did greatly g [...] [...] their companions for the same [...]

Whilst I remained thus [...] and beheld greatly of many, a [...] [...] [Page] should captiuate others, it chaunced that an others most vn­fortunatly entrapped me. And béeing nowe néere to that do­lorous passage, which of most certaine death, or els of such a kind of life, that should be full of anguish and sorrowe, might haue béene a sorrowfull and sinister occasion, I knewe not with what spirite mooued, but with a séemely grace lyfting vp mine eyes, with an earnest and sharpe viewe I spredde theyr beames amids the multitude of yong Gentlemen, that dyd enuiron me round about.Fiammetta is enamou­red in the Temple. And beyond them all I espyed a propper yong Gentleman, leaning vpon a Marble pillar, as directly obiect to my sight as myght be. And instigated by my pursuing destinies, I beganne to marke his personage, and his behauiour, which of any other before, I had neuer to doo so much. I say therefore, that (according to my slender iudgment, which was not yet verie rype about loue mat­ters) in his countenaunce hee was passing fayre and amia­ble, in hys actions swéete and pleasant, and in his attyre de­cent and comely. And the little golden & crisped wooll which began to appeare on his louely chéekes, did giue a manifest signe of his yong and florishing age. Who béeing no lesse pittifull (as it séemed) then wyse, omitted not betwéene Man and Manne, to requite mée with louing lookes againe. And though I had somtimes the power to withdrawe mine eyes a little whyle from beholding him, yet no accident whatsoe­uer, no, not my selfe (though stryuing to the contrary) could make mee le [...]e of to trauerse many straunge and vncouthe [...] so liuely was hys very counter­ [...] [...] my hart, that with what [...] [...]e same, I am not able to [...] [...]s did affyrme wyth my [...] [...]eare in him, to bee moste [...] [...]ented in mind, and wysh­ [...] [...] I cast sometimes a glance [...] me.

[...] [...]ymes that I beheld him (vn­ [...] [...] [...]he secrete snares of loue) fyr­ [...] [...] [...]newhat longer vpon hys, then [Page 5] I was wont to doo, and the percing beames of his fayre eyes encountring with mine, me thought, that with a pittiful and swéete countenaunce bee séemed to speake these wordes. O Lady, thou art mine onely ioy and singuler felicitie. Truely if I should say, that these wordes did not worke an extraordi­narie delight in me, I shoulde flatly lye: the supposition of which did so highly please mee, that from the center of my hart they drew forth a swéete and profound sigh, which came accompanied with these words. And thou art myne. But that remembring my selfe, I tooke them from my mouth. But what did it auaile? That which was not expressed and vttered forth, my hart did conceiue & imagine with it selfe, retaining y^t in it, which if it had gone forth, perhaps I shold haue yet béene frée. Then from that time forwarde, making my foolish eyes the whole arbyters of that, the good where­of they were so gréedy to enioy, I did (me thought) in so doo­ing greatlie content & please them. And certes if the Gods, who deduct all thinges to some knowne and certaine ende, had not taken away my vnderstanding, and bereaued me of my due knowledge, I myght haue styll béene myne owne woman. But all such considerations layde aside, I followed my sensual appetite, & quickly perswaded my selfe to yéeld to loue: Because no otherwise then the elementarie coruscati­ons shooting themselues from one parte of the ayre to ano­ther, a shyning light issuing from out hys cléere eyes, & run­ning by a most subtile and fine beame, did méete and hytte directly against mine, which contending to passe furder, by what secret wayes (I knowe not) suddainly went penetra­ting to my very hart, which fearing theyr violent entrance, and calling to it all her exterior forces, left me altogether pale and colde: But their aboade was not so long there, but the greatest feare was past, and then were they welcomed wyth a hote and burning passion: wherevpon the foresayde forces returning to their places againe, brought with them a certaine heate, which driuing all palenes quite away, paynted my face like the vermillion Rose, and made me burne as hote as fire: And yet beholding from whence all this dydde [Page] procéede, I could not but breathe out a sorrowfull sigh. And from that howre forwarde, my thoughtes were occupyed in nothing els, but meditating of his braue personage, and ap­parant vertues, and especially in imagining howe to please him.

In all these intercourses, without chaunging of place or countenaunce, he did most priuilie steale now & then a looke at me againe. And peraduenture as one who hadde béene a tryed Souldiour in other amorous battailes, and know­ing with what Engines his wyshed praye might best be taken, wyth arguments of greater humilitie, continually he shewed himselfe more pittifull, and full of amorous de­sires. Alas how much deceite was hydden vnder the vaile of that pietie, which (according as the present effects doo te­stifie) béeing nowe mortified in his hart, where it neuer re­uiued againe,) bare onely but an outward show and vysard of loue? And because I may prosecute euery thing & action in perticuler, whereof there was not any, which was not fraught with rare fraude and cunning guile, whither it was he, that voluntarily did worke it, or my vnlucky stars, that would haue it so, thus it fell out, that (wanting the due skyl exactly to shew you how) I found my selfe entangled wyth suddaine and vnlooked for loue, as at this present I am not frée from the same.

Thys therefore was he (most pittifull Ladyes) whom my conquered hart wyth a foolish conceite, amongst so ma­nie noble, beautifull, and valiant yong Gentlemen, y^t were not onely there present, but also in all my Parthenope, dyd choose to be the first,Naples.the onely, and last Lorde and maister of my life. This was he, whom I loued, and do loue styll more then anie one in all the worlde besides. Thys was hee who was the beginning and principall occasion of all my woes, and shalbe (as I hope) the finall cause of my tragicall death at laste. Thys was that day, in the which, first of a most frée and happy Lady, I became a most miserable & vnhappy captiue. Thys was that day, in the which I did first appre­hende the miserable effects of foolish loue, neuer knowne of [Page 6] me before. This was that day, wherin venereous venoms contaminated first my pure and chaste breaste. Alas poore wretch, how manie sorrowes, and what misery came thys day into the world to thée, by thine owne default? Howe far (alas) should annoy and griefe haue béene from me, yf thys day had béene turned into darknes? and howe great an ene­mie was this day to my vnstayned honor?

But euill things (alas) which are committed and past,All things which are doone, may be sooner controlled then reme­died. may be easier reprehended then amended. I was therefore taken (as I haue sayde) and whither it was some infer­nall furie, or enuious fortune, which did so emulate my chast felicitie, laying snares to entrappe mee, may thys day wyth hope of infallible victory tryumph and reioyce in my mise­rable fall. Béeing therefore possessed, nay rather oppressed with new kinds of passions, as one astonied, and like a sencelesse Woman I satte amongst the other Ladyes and Gen­tlewomen. And troubled thus in mind, I did neglect the sa­cred and diuine seruice, which as I did scarcely heare, so dyd I not vnderstande it at all: and thought the sundry speeches and discourses of Gentlewomen, that satte round about me, but a kind of buzzing and murmuring in my troubled eares. And so this newe and vnexpected loue did take suddaine pos­session of my tender hart, so that eyther wyth myne eyes, or with my thoughtes I was euer contemplating on my belo­ued yong Gentleman. And yet my simplicitie was such, that I did not almost then know, what ende I might wysh or de­sire of such a straunge and feruent passion. How many times (alas) coueting to haue séene him approche néere vnto mee, did I blame his staying behind al the rest of the Gentlemen, thinking wyth my selfe that that was but a colde kinde of affection in him, which he did perhaps craftilie vse, and for a pollicie, to make mee more desirous to looke on hym, and in looking to loue him more.

And moreouer, the companie of lustie youthes, that stoode before hym, did greatly hinder my sight, of whom, whilst that I busied myne eyes in looking sometimes amongst thē, there were not a fewe, that, (thinking, that for theyr sakes [Page] I looked so much towards them) did vainely perhappes be­léeue, that I did it for loue of them. But while my thoughts and sences were occupyed in these fancyes, the sollemne ser­uice was finished: and the Ladyes and the rest of my com­panions were risen vp to depart, when I, recalling my wits together, which went wandring about the swéete imagina­tion and figure of theyr onely obiect, at the last I beheld my louelie yong Gentleman againe. And now my selfe risen vp with the other Gentlewomen ready to be gone, and turning mine eyes towardes him, I perceiued that by his pittifull lokes (which I had thought to haue preuented by mine) that his departure, and mine didde greatlie gréeue him. But not­withstanding, after certaine secrete sighes, and yet ignorant of what parentage, estate and condition hee was, I went a­way.

Alas (gentle Ladies) who would beléeue it possible, that ones hart in a moment and point of time shoulde alter and chaunge so much? Who would say that a man neuer séene before might be so extreamelie loued at the first sight? And who would thinke, that the desire of séeing should bee so fer­uentlie kindled in ones breast, as the very sight it selfe, and béeing depriued of that, to féele the greatest paine in y^e world, for desire to sée the same thing againe? Who would imagin that all those things, that haue béene so ioyfull and delightful to vs before, in respect of a newe thing come in place, should not yéelde anie more pleasure at all. Not any one truely, vn­lesse he had prooued and felt them, as I doo nowe. Alas that loue is not onelie content to vse such a strange, and too seuere kinde of crueltie towardes mee,Howe loue is engēdred in diuers parts and soules of the body successiuely, but in subduing mee to his might, to prescribe new Lawes, cléene variant from others. I haue oftentimes hearde, that loue in others at his first en­trance is but light, but by nourished thoughtes augmenting his force, is made greater. But so it fared not with mee: for he entred into my heart wyth that same force, wherwith hée continued euer afterwardes, as one, who at the verye firste assault had most entyre and frée possession of me. And lyke as the gréene wood, which is hardly at the first sette on fire, and [Page 8] doth lie a long time, before it receiueth flames, but after it is once kindled, with greater heate dooth conserue the fire longer, euen so it happened vnto me, who with this kynd of pleasing passion, neuer ouercome of any before (though at­tempted of many) and at the last conquered of one, haue bur­ned and kept, (as yet I doo more sensibly) these new flames, that haue taken more hold of mee, then euer they did of anie other, who before haue assayed the like. But leauing aside many thoughts, which with diuers accidents that morning turmoyled my troubled mind, and besides these, which nowe I haue told, I say, that béeing incended with a newe furie, with my captiuated and bonde soule I returned againe thi­ther, from whence (not long since) I had brought it frée.

Where afterwardes, that I was nowe come into my Chamber all alone, kindled with variety of burning desires surcharged with new thoughts, and pricked with a thousand stinging cares, terminating euerie ende of them in the ima­gined apprehension of my yong Gentleman, I thought, that if I coulde not weane my selfe from this newe loue, at the least in my secret and sorrowfull breast, wisely to haue nou­rished and gouerned the same, and warilie to haue brought it to some good effect. Which things, howe difficult they are to performe, none can tell vnlesse they proue them, vndoub­tedlie beléeuing, that they doo no lesse harme, then loue it selfe. Wherefore, confirmed as it were in this opinion, I saide thus to my selfe. Alas thou art in loue poore soule, and yet thou doost not know with whom.

What kinds of cruell thoughts, and howe many carefull cogitations were engendred of this loue, it shoulde be too te­dious for you daintie Ladies to heare, and to gréeuous for me to tell. But yet (though forcing my selfe thereunto) to obtayne the more pittie at your handes, and some comfort thereby, I meane to vnfolde some of them vnto you. I say therefore, that carelesse of all other thinges, to spende y^e time in thinking of my beloued and amiable yong Gentlemanne, was only most deare and pleasant vnto me. And imagining with my selfe, that perseuering in this, that which I did in­tend [Page] to conceale, might perhaps haue easily béene presumed, I oftentimes found fault with my selfe for it. But what did it helpe? My owne reprehensions gaue place to my desires, and like words of light worth passed away with the ayre. I chiefely desired manie daies together, to knowe what my beloued youth was, to the vnderstandinge of which thing, newe thoughts made me an open way, by meanes of which most warily and priuilie I knewe it, and whereof I remai­ned not a little contented. My goodly ornaments likewyse, which (as one that little néede them) were not before thys time so much in request with me, began now to be greatlie liked of me, thinking that béeing adorned with thē, I myght please the more: Wherefore I estéemed nowe more of gor­gious apparrell, gold, pearles, and other precious stones, and gemmes, then euer I did before. And I, who vntil this time had frequented the holy Temples, Feastes, Sea banks, and pleasant Gardens, without any further intent or desire, thē to kéepe other Gentlewomen and Ladyes company, began, (altered now in mind) for new purposes to resorte more of­ten to the foresaid places, thinking, that there I might with pleasure not onely beholde, but with delight and desire bee séene againe. But the great affiaunce (truely) which I was wont to haue in my beautie, forsooke me nowe quite, where­fore I neuer went out of my Chamber, without the infalli­ble counsell of my trustie Glasse: And my cunning handes, (I know not by what curious instructor newly taught) finding euerie day more braue and rare ornaments, conioyning artificiall with naturall beautie, did make mee like Venus starre) shine amongst other Ladyes. The great honours moreouer, curtesies, and obeisance, which other Ladyes and Gentlewomen of theyr méere good wyls, and dueties did vnto me, although indéede they were incident to my nobilitye, I nowe began to accept and expect as seruices duely & wor­thily belonging to my high estate, thinking that I shoulde please my louer most of all, when by these meanes he didde perceiue, that I was of noble byrth and lynage. And that cō ­mon couetousnes, which is naturally borne and ingraffed in [Page 8] all Women, did worke in mee (eschewing the same) no o­ther effects, then to estéeme of all my riches, land & treasure, as if they had not béene mine owne: wherby I became not onelie liberall, but féeling also a certaine séemelie boldnes to encrease in me, made me deuoide of all womanlie and suspi­cious feare, accounting but one thing only déerer to me now then before. And besides all this, my eyes which vntill this time had béen but simple, and vnexpert in amorous regards chaunged their former fashions, and grewe meruailous skil­full in performing their parts. And I discouered moreouer in me diuers other mutations, all which by one and one, I care not to set downe, because first, it would bée too long a la­bour, and secondlie, because I beléeue y^t you (faire Ladyes) enamored perhaps like my selfe, are not ignorant how great and manie those are, which accompany louers in like cau­ses.

The yong Gentleman was most warie and wise, as ma­nie times by experience I was sufficiently thereof acertay­ned. Hee came but seldome times, and that in moste honest and séemely sort where I was, and hauing (as it séemed) purposed the selfe same thing, that I hadde doone, which was to conceale altogether these amorous flames, did yet with ma­ny priuie and stealing lookes, not a fewe times pittifully be­holde me. He did therfore make those kindled flames in me, more feruent and liuelie, and reuiued those againe, (yf anie they were) that were spent and quite consumed in me. But the beginning of all this loue was not so ioyfull and happy, but the sequell and ende of it was more sorrowfull and vn­fortunate, at what time I remained depriued of his sight, because these eyes béeing denyed their wished ioy, did minister a gréeuous occasion to my poore harte of gréefe, whereuppon my sighes both in quantitie and quallitie were greatly aug­mented: And hote desire, occupying almost euery least sence of myne, did make me liue as one besides my selfe,Diuers ac­cidents of loue espe­cially in a weake mind and as if I had not béene there where I was, made many that sawe me, to wonder often times at me, attributing afterwardes infinite and feyned occasions (taught mee onely of loue) to [Page] such strange and vncouth accidents. And besides all thys, taking from mee manie times my swéete reste in the night time, and appetite in the day, did driue me sometimes to certayne suddaine and furious kinds of actions, and transpor­ted my tongue into strange and fonde spéeches. Behold how my vnaccustomed gorgious apparrell, my prodigall attyre, my scalding and newe sighes, my vnwonted gesture, fran­ticke fits, the losse of my rest, quietnes, and health, and many other things, which this newe loue brought wyth it, amōgst many other Seruaunts and familiars in my house, made a Nurce of mine especially to meruaile much, who, as shee was burdened with many yéeres, so in rype wysedome and good experience shee was not yong at all. And who hauing sometimes knowne and tryed the heate of Cupids flames, and making semblance to the contrary, did oftentimes reprehende me, and my suspected follies. But finding me on a day laide vpon my bedde, and oppressed with déepe melancholy and sadnes, and perceiuing by my face, that I was ouerchar­ged with burdens of heauy thoughts,The Nurce her speeche to Fiam­metta. and séeing no company with me but her selfe, began thus to say vnto me.

Oh Daughter, déerer to me then myne own hart strings, what cares doo molest thée thus of late? Now thou spendest not one howre (whom sometimes I was wont to sée merry and frée from all pensiuenes) without infinite cares, and burning sighes.

Then after a great sigh, and often chaunging of my co­lour, turning me now this way, nowe that way, my tongue béeing scarce able to forme and fashion one worde aright, I aunswered her againe.

O déere Nurce, no newe thing doth annoy mee, neyther doo I feele any more gréefe, then I was wont to doo, these na­turall courses onely excepted, and influences, which, neuer kéeping vs in one stay and estate of life, make mee at this present (more then they were wont) bothe painefull & pen­siue. Thou verily doost deceiue me Daughter, (aunswered the olde Nurce againe,) nor doost conceiue how great a matter it is, to make temperate and aduised persons beléeue one [Page 9] thing in words, and to shewe the contrarie by demonstrati­on. Thou néedest not to kéepe that hidden from mee, which manie daies since I did knowe to be in thée.

Alas when I heard her say so, surprised with great mer­uaile and gréefe, knowing my selfe to be touched to y^e quick, with an angrie countenaunce I said to her.

Then if thou doost know, why doost thou aske? wherfore I requeste no more at thy handes, but to conceale and kéepe that close which thou knowest. I will not beléeue me, (saide she againe) disclose that, which is neither lawfull nor rea­sonable to acquaint others withall, earnestly beséeching the Gods, that before I manifest (during the well nigh finished course of my poore life) anie thing, which (much or litle) may turne to thy shame, or that may in anie one iotte preiudicate thy honor, honestie, and vertuous name, the earth may open and swallow me aliue. It is a good while since my Daugh­ter, that I learned to kéepe secrecie in matters (perhaps) of as great importaunce as this: And therefore liue secure of this, admonishing thée to take dilligent héede, and to be verie carefull, least others know that by thy indirect dealings, and vnaduised practises, which without report either of thy selfe, or of anie other but by thy outward countenance onely, and méere behauiour I haue perceiued. But if this kinde of mad follie, into which (I knowe thou art rashly fallen) were be­séeming a Woman of thy estate, if thou wert as wyse nowe, as of late thou wert, I would leaue it to thine owne consideration, béeing certaine, that my counsell héerein shoulde take no place, as a thing néedelesse. But because this cruell Ty­rant, (to whom like a yong and ignorant Woman, not ta­king anie héede of him, and of his poysoned bayts, thou haste simply subiected thy selfe (hath together with thy swéete li­bertye, bereaued, thée also of thy sounde vnderstanding, I thinke it not amisse, to put thée fréendly in remembraunce, and humbly to entreate thée, that from thy impotent and chaste breast, thou wouldest banish all wicked thinges, and naughtie thoughts, and by obliuion consume these vnhonest flames, and not to suffer thy selfe become a handmaide and [Page] bondslaue to most filthy hope. And nowe it is time to resiste with force and courage,He that re­sisteth loue in the be­ginning, doth ouer­come it in the ende. because whosoeuer doth stoutly re­sist, & oppose himselfe in the beginning, he may easily dryue out this villanous and enuious loue, and like a worthy and wyse Conquerer may safely triumphe ouer him. But who­soeuer with cōtinued thoughts and flattering imaginations dooth continue and maintaine it, may hardlie, and too late cast of his yoke, into the which voluntarilie hee did put hys neck.

Alas (said I then) howe easie is it to talke of those thin­ges, and howe difficult a matter to remedy them. Although (said she againe) that they are verie harde to bée doone, yet are they possible inough to be reformed, and ought to be per­formed. Thou séest, or (at the least if thou wilt) mayst see, that in following thine owne fancies, thou hast (as it were) a certaine kind of desire to ruinate the highnes of thy birth, to obscure the great and shyning fame of thy manifold ver­tues, to loose the flower of thy beautie, to blemish thy honour in this present worlde, and to discredit all those other good parts in thée besides, which ought of all Women to be kept holy and vnstained, and especially of such as thou art, whose vertues (as in nobilitie thou art aboue the rest) shoulde also shyne aboue the rest. And besides all this, to hazard the losse of the gracious fauoure of thy noble Husbande, whom thou hast so long (and yet doost) loued so well, and who entirelie loueth thée againe. Thou shouldest not truely haue so much as a thought of idle loue, neither doo I thinke (if like a wyse Woman thou doost but take sound counsell of thy selfe) that thou wilt, nor canst busie thy wits about it. But these olde breasts of mine with manie yéeres worne out (of the which thou diddest first sucke out thy nourishing milke and liuing sustenaunce) euen by these, moste humbly I pray thée, that thou wouldest in these timerous occurrents succor thy selfe, and be careful both for thy health and honor, and in these thy perplexities not to reiect my weake & willing comforts. And think moreouer that an earnest wyll and desire to bee made whole againe, is not the smallest parte, and no little helpe to [Page 10] recouer thy former health. Then I began thus to reply.A wyll to be healed, is part of health in a­ny one that is sicke O déere Nurce, well doo I knowe, that these things which thou tellest me are most true, but franticke furie compelleth mee to followe that which is my bane, and my guilty minde, and ouerrash in her desires, attempts in vaine to put thy counsel in practise, because that which reason willeth me to doo, is o­uercome by vnrulie will, which most mightilie dooth domi­nate in me. Loue with his deitie doth possesse my harte, and there, with his mightie signory ouerruleth my subiect mind And how hard a matter is it for a féeble woman to resist hys forces. (Ah Nurce) thou knowest well enough.

And hauing so said, ouercome by the force of my gréeuous passion, and fainting I fell betwéene her armes. But shee, troubled in mind more then before, with an austere counte­naunce, and sharper spéeches beganne to discipline mée thus. You wilfull companie of amorous and wanton yong Gen­tlewomen, kindled with burning desires, & firie luste, which spurring you forwardes to impious idolatrie, haue fondlye found out Loue to be a God, who more iustly deserueth the title and name of frantick furie. And call him the Sonne of Venus, saying that he deriueth his omnipotent power from the third Heauen, as though you woulde excuse your follyes with a néedlesse kind of necessitie. O deceiued soules, and vt­terlie deuoide of all reason, and most ignorant of that which you saie. Sent from the infernall furies,Wanton loue repro­ued. with a suddain and swift flight he visiteth all the world, bringing to him y^e dooth entertaine him, not deitie but dispaire, not fréendly felicitie, but fendlie folly, allighting on those, whō he dooth know to a bounde in superfluitie of worldly goods, and to enioye them with a vaine and prodigall mind, and on him whom he thin­keth fittest and most forwarde to make him place. And thys is héere most manifest by thée. Why, doo we not sée holy Ve­nus to dwell oftentimes in little cottages, bothe profitable and necessarie for our procreation? yes truly. But this: who by frensie is called Loue, coueting euer dissolute thinges, lodgeth in no other place, but where happy Fortune dooth smyle, and where her gyfts abound.

Thys dainty one, disdayning no lesse sufficient foode to satis-fie nature, then necessary clothing, dooth frame all hys perswasions to delicate fare, and sumptuous attyre, and so entermingling his secrete & swéete poyson with them, doth deceiue and destroye vnwarie and ignoraunt soules. Thys more willingly and often séene in high and princly Palaces, is seldome or neuer séene in poore and Country cottages. Because it is a certaine precise pestilence, which dooth chuse out onely braue and stately lodginges, as most agréeable in the ende to his wicked practises. We sée in poore and simple people, effects of good and quiet consequence, but in the rich, wallowing in pleasure, and shyning in theyr aboundaunce of gold, (insatiable as well in this as in all thinges els) that he is (more then is requisite) for the most part founde: and that which he cannot doo (who can doo most) he dooth desire, and especially endeuour to bring to passe. Among whom I perceiue thée (most vnhappy and vnfortunate Mistresse) to be one, who by too much wealth, ease and idle pleasure, hast entred into these newe and vnbeséeming cares. Whom, af­ter I had a good while heard, I aunswered thus again. Holde thy peace thou olde and foolish dotarde, and prate not thus a­gainst my God. Thou speakest voluntarily against him, thy self béeing no lesse impotent for these effects, then iustly cast of all menne, blaspheming hym nowe, whom in time of thy yonger yeres thou diddest religiously adore. If other Ladies more noble, wiser, and more famous thē my selfe haue here­tofore thus entitled him, and cease not yet to call him by the name of a mighty God, how can I then alone giue him anie newe or deuised name. To be plaine with thée, I am become his Subiect, but from whence the occasion of this allegance doth spring, I neither know nor can tell thée. And what can I doo more? My feminine forces conioyned oftētimes wyth hys celestiall power are ouercome, and constrained to retyre backe againe. Wherefore there resteth no more for the end of my newe and mortall paynes, but my néere death, or els the enioying of my wished loue, which woes I praye thée to mitigate (if y^u art so wise as I estéeme thée) by thy sage coūsel [Page 11] and spéedie helpe, which will perhaps lessen them at y^e least, or els by thy bitter reprehensions surcease to exasperate and make them greater, blaming that in mee, which my soule, (not able to doo otherwise) with all the power and force it hath, is wholly disposed to follow. She departed therfore out of my Chamber somewhat offended (as she had indéede good cause) at this my peremtorie answere, not giuing mee one word againe, but murmuring (I know not what) with her selfe, leauing me all alone.

Nowe was my louing Nurce I say gone,In this place one may see how contrarie sensuali­tie is to reason. without spea­king anie more to me, whose counselles though vnaduisedly reiected of me, yet, I remaining all alone, pondered all her wordes in my carefull breast. And (although my vnderstan­ding was obscured with mistie clowdes of senceles loue,) I founde in them neuerthelesse a swéete and relyshed taste, which making my hart, touched as it were with repētance, with a wauering and vnconstant mind I did consider better of that, which (euen now I told her) I had resolued to folow. Wherfore beginning nowe to thinke & to perswade my selfe to let this doubtfull and daungerous matter passe away, I thought it good to call her backe againe for my néedeful com­fort: but this good motion was quickly countermaunded by a new and suddaine accident.Venus doth appeare vn­to her. Because lying all alone in my secrete Chāber, a most faire Lady (not knowing frō whence she came) appeared before mine eyes, glittering with such shyning light, that compassed her round about, y^t my dazeled eies might scarce behold her, who standing thus before mee, without either mouing or speaking, as much as by y^e golden light I might illuminate & sharpen my eies, so far foorth did I cast their beames, vntill at laste her beautifull forme, and formall feyture of her body was fully arriued to my perfect knowledge. Whom whē I did cléerely sée, to be all naked,A fine de­scription of a fayre wo­man. sa­uing only a thine vaile of fine purple silk, which (although it couered some part of her snow white body) did neuertheles abridge my sight in looking on her no more, then if I had be­held some goodly figure or Image enclosed in cristal or cléere glasse. Her maiestical head, the haire wherof did so much ex­céede [Page] gold in brightnes, as the golden colour of ours passeth the yellowest and softest in fairenes, was crowned with a fine Garland of gréene Myrtils, vnder the shadow of which, I saw two eyes of incomparable beauty, and passing louelie to behold, did cast foorth a meruailous and splendant bright­nes, and all the rest of her faire face, was in like proportion adorned with such diuine beautie, y^t her like on earth myght not (I think) be found. She spake not a word, glorying per­haps in her self, to sée me gaze on her so much, or els to please and delight me, perceiuing me so greatly content & desirous to behold her, yet at length, by little and little in y^e transpa­rant and shyning light, more cléerely discouering to mee the fairest parts of her daintie body, because shee knewe y^e with my vnable tongue I coulde not rehearse her excéeding beau­ties, nor (without euident sight of them) imagine any such to liue amongst mortall men. Which admirable beauties, whē she perceiued, that I had seuerally & earnestly marked, and to maruaile no lesse at the rare perfection of them, as to wō ­der at her comming thither, with a pleasant and mild coun­tenaunce, and with an angelicall voyce, she began to speake thus vnto me.

Venus her speeche to Fiammetta.Yong Lady, and of all others most noble, what dost thou intend to doo, disturbed by the new coūsels of thy old Nurce? knowst thou not, that these are more intricate and harder to folow, then loue it self, from which so fondly thou desirest to flée? Dost thou not conceiue what great and intollerable so­row they kéepe in store for thée? most foolish womā, once and euen now ours, and by the y^e bable of the old womā dost now feare to bee ours againe, like her who is yet ignorant of the quantity of our great delights, & quality of our swéete ioyes. Vnaduised as thou art, vpholde and maintaine him by our spéeches, whom the heauens and earth canne scarce containe with his might. What doost thou know how much our win­ged Sonne without resistance doth raigne, and command, as much as Phaebus, rysing with his golden beames out of the rich Ganges, and plunging in the Hisperian waues with his wearied Chariot, to giue some reste to his fainting steedes, [Page 12] and to ease his owne labors, séeth in a cléere day: And howe he dilateth his signorie ouer all that, which is shut vppe be­twéene cold Arture & the burning Pole, who is not onelie a God in heauen amongst other Goddes, but is so much more mighty then all the rest, that there is not any one there, who hath not béene somtimes wounded with his ineuitable wea­pons. With golden and coloured feathers, flying swiftlie thorow out his kingdoms,The great force of Loue. in a moment of time hee dooth vi­site them all, and gouerning his strong bow vppon his stret­ched string, cunningly directeth his arrowes, wrought by vs and tempered in our holy waters: and when he findeth out some one, more woorthy and fit for his seruice then another, hee shootes them spéedily wheresoeuer it pleaseth him. Hée dooth stir vp and augment in yong men cruell & firy flames, and in tyred and old men, doth renue their spent and wasted heate, inflaming the chaste breastes of virgins with an vn­knowne and hidden fire, and kindling liuely & louely coales, as well in wiues as in widowes. He commaunded when he list, the Gods (scorched with his firebrands) to leaue y^e Hea­uens aboue, and with counterfet shapes, and false habites, to soiourne on y^e earth. Was not Phaebus, who conquered swel­ling Python, and first tuned the melodious Cyterns of Per­nassus, many times his vassale, sometimes for foolish Daph­ne, sometimes for Climene, and sometimes for Leucothoe, and for many moe? yes truly. And at the last, hyding hys great light vnder the shape of a poore enamored Sheepheard kept Admetus his flocks? Iupiter himself, who doth gouern the heauens, & controleth all the Goddes, by his compulsion, tooke vppon him formes farre vnbeséeming his omnipotent deitie. Sometimes spreading his winges vnder the shape of a lillie white byrd, sounded forth more swéet & pitiful notes,All these Fables are touched of Ouid in his trans-for­mations. then the dying Swannes of Meander. And somtimes trans­formed into a yong and goodly white Bullock, w^c rude horns on his mighty Godhead, bellowed out amids the meadowes fieldes, and plaines, his amorous plaints, and deyned not to stoope & prostrate his backe to the knées and seate of a sillye mayde, and so with his enioyed and swéete pray, with clouen [Page] hoofes, instedde of cutting owers, his broade and strong brest parting the waues, and making way thorowe y^e déepest and raging billowes, he passed his brothers kingdomes, who for Semele in his owne forme, and who for the loue of Calysto, turned himself into the likenesse of Diana. And to tel of that which in times past he did, metamorphized into a shower of gold, for the loue of fayre Danaee, and trans-formed into o­ther shapes for many more, it would be too long. And y^e fierce God of war, whose angry and sterne countenaunce, & whose boysterly behauiour doth make y^e very Gyants afraide, hath tempered his terrible and mortall effects vnder his power, and was content to become a Louer. And Iupiter his blacke Smith, who neuer stirreth from his firy forge, continually beating and framing thunderbolts, hath béene also kindeled with his fire, and smitten with his golden bolts, which are more mighty, and wound more déepe then his, though made of hard yron and sturdie stéele. And my selfe likewise, (al­though I am his mother) could not defende my selfe frō hys might, whose streames of mourning teares powred foorth for swéet Adonis his vntimely and cruell death, can suffici­ently testifie But wherfore doo wee trouble our selues wyth recitall of so many examples. There is no deity in Heauen, which hath escaped him, but only Diana. And she delighting her selfe in woods and hunting, hath fled (nay as some think) rather hid her selfe frō him. But if perhaps (as incredulous) thou dost not allow of this true & tried examples of y^e Gods, whose mansion places are in y^e heauens aboue, & art desirous to know who hath in earth beneath felt y^e like, so many there are, that I scarcely know where to begin, promising and gi­uing thée to vnderstand, that they were no base, poore, or simple men, but the stoutest & most valiant wights that euer li­ued. And first of al let vs behold the most strong and inuinci­ble son of Alcmena, who laying aside his dyrie arrowes, and casting of his huge and rough Lyons skynne, delighted very often to passe his louing times away in framing and fytting Emeralds for his martiall fingers, and afterwardes to pre­scribe Lawes for his rugged and bushy locks, and by one and [Page 13] one to sette them in effeminate and fine order.

And that mighty hande, with the which hée hadde but erst caryed his stronge and knottie clubbe, killed great An­theus and beate downe, and drawne from Pluto his Pallace gate the hellishe triple headed Dogge, did now drawe foorth small thréedes, which he spun on Iole her distaffe: And those shoulders, on which high heauen was imposed (Atlas chaun­ginge shoulders with him) were first tenderly pressed, and beclipped of Iole: And afterwardes (to please her the more,) couered with embrodered garments of fine purple and gold. What amorous Paris did for his sake, what faire Hellene, what Clytemnestra, and what Egistus did, all the world dooth knowe to well. And therefore as (as néedelesse also) I omitte to speake of Achilles, of Scylla, Ariadne, Leander, Dido, and many more.

Beléeue me (Lady) this is a holy fyer, and of great force. Now hast thou (therefore) heard howe mighty Gods in hea­uens,Loue dooth worke his force euen in brute beastes. and no meane men in earth haue béene vnder the swet yoake of my princely Sonne. But what wilt thou say of his force extended in irrationall and brute beastes, as well in the ayre, as in the earth. For him the mornefull Turtle Doue dooth followe her mate: and our prittie Pigeons with a mer­ueilous kinde of affection, doo kisse and bill their loouing ones also. And there is not any beast liuing in the wide earth, that can, or dooth at any time escape his gins. The feareful Harts in the Woods waxing fierce, & cruell amongest themselues, when he dooth wounde them with his dartes, fightinge and braying after their desired & louing Hinds, shew blody signes of this burning heate. The enraged & wylde Bores foming at the mouth with whot and firie froth, prouoked by the in­stincte, and lawes of naturall looue, prepare and whet theyr tearing tuskes, to fight. And the whot Lions of Libia smit­ten with looue, make all the wooddie hilles, and hollowe val­leyes to resound with their roaring outcries. But leauing the woodes and champaignes, I say moreouer, that the Gods of the Seas and running Riuers, euen in their coldest wa­ters, féele the burning and vnquenchable heate of my Son. [Page] Nor doo I thinke that it is vnkowen to thée, what approued testimonie Neptunus, G'laucus, Alfeus, and others haue gi­uen therof, who were not able to extinguish, no, not so much as to mitigate these flames with their colde & frozen floodes: which although it hath béene of euery one long since knowne in earth, and in the déepest waters, yet penetrating further into the bowelles of the earth, it dooth violently make open way to the dreadfull King of the darke Stigian Lakes. Hea­uen and earth therefore, the Sea and Hell haue assaied the vertue and force of his arrowes. And because thou mayest in fewe wordes comprehend euery thing concerning his migh­ty strength, I say, that all things are subiect to natures lore, and no power is frée from it, and that this it selfe, also is vn­der his lawes. For if he dooth once commaunde, olde hatreds and grudges are forgotten, and newe angers and auncient rancours giue place to his forcible fiers.

And last of all, his power stretcheth forth so farre, that it dooth make mothers in lawe become gracious and gratefull to their steppe children, which is no little wonder. What doost thou therefore séeke? What doost thou doubt of? What doost thou foolishly flie? If so many deuine Goddes, so manie and so mighty men, and so many fierce and cruel beasts haue béene conquered of him, wilt thou then thinke it a shame to be ouercomed? Alas thou knowest not what thou hast to doo? But it may be, in submitting thy selfe to him, thou doost ex­pect some bitter reprehension, and doost (perhaps) feare some shame to ensue thereof, which can by no meanes fall vnto thée, since a thousande more excellent women then thy selfe, hauing committed tenne thousand greater faultes then this shall sufficiently excuse thée, and, as great presidentes of this thy reasonable lappes (if so it be) exempte thée from reproch: who, as thou art not so mightie as they, hast not erred so much as they haue doone. But if those motiues doo not alter thy minde, and yet perhappes will obstinately still resiste. Thinke that thou canst not ioyne with Iupiter in vertue, with Iuno in ritches, with Apollo in wisedome, and with me in beauty. And if all we haue béene ouercome, doost thou [Page 14] onely thinke to triumphe in thy sole conquest? Thou art de­ceiued, if thou art of this opinion, and shalt suffer a base foile in thine own prowd conceite. Let that suffise thée, which heretofore hath béene enough, and to much for heauen and earth, and make not thy selfe so timerous in saying. I haue a hus­band, and holy lawes and promised faith forbiddeth me these thinges, because they are but vaine conceites and friuolous obiections against his vertue. For lyke a strong and mighty Prince he dooth plant his eternall lawes, when, not caringe for other of meaner substaunce, hée dooth account them but base and seruile rules. Pasiphae likewise had a husband, and Phedra, and I my selfe, when I looued. Nay husbands them selues for the most part looue other women, when they haue wiues of their owne, as Iason for example, Hercules and wise Vlisses. No iniurie therefore is offered vnto them, if that they are counterchecked with those lawes, which they themselues vse towardes other. No prerogatiue is graunted more to them, then to womē. Wherfore abandon these foolish and vnconstant thoughts, and looue securely as thou hast bée­gunne. Beholde if thou wilt not submit thy selfe to mighty looue, of necessitie thou must flie away, & whether wilt thou take thy flight but y^t he wil pursue, & ouertake thée? his power is a like in euery place, and wheresoeuer thou goest thou art still in his kindomes, in y^e which none can hide thēselues no longer then it pleaseth him to suffer them. Let this suffise thée (young Ladie) that thou art not molested with such abhominable and wicked lust, as Mirra, Semiramis, Biblis, Cana­ce, & Cleopatra were. My Son shal worke in thée no straung and new thinges. He dooth rule by lawes as well as other Gods, in following which, thou must perswad thy selfe, that thou art not the first, and shalt not be the last. And if perad­uenture thou doost beléeue, that thou doost at this present loue alone, thy beléefe is but vaine, and false. For to let the other world passe in silence, which is full of them, let vs onely looke into thy noble Citty, in the which thou hast many braue and infinite companions. And note this withall, that what hath béene, and is doone of so many wise and iudicious persons, [Page] may not iustly bee thought vaine and accompted friuolous. Followe vs therefore, and with thankfull wordes and gratefull déeds requite our deitie for thy péerelesse beauty, and in­termit not to remember her, who hath out of the number of simple & ignorāt soules chosen & tooke thée, to make thée know & participate y^e pleasure of our gifts. Alas good Ladies, what shold or could I answer, to such perswasiue or forcible reasōs alleaged by so mighty a Goddesse, but only this. Dispose w^t me as it pleaseth thée best. I say therfore, y^t now she held her peace, when I hauing gathered all her words into the depth of my capacitie, and felt them full of infinite excuses, and knowing her also better now (thē at the first,) resolued with my selfe to embrace and follow her sweet and pleasing coun­celles: Wherefore rising quickly out of my bedde, and with an humble minde casting my knées on the ground, being full of feare, I began softely to say thus vnto her. Oh eternall and singuler beauty. Oh heauenly deity, Oh onely Lady and mistresse of my resolute minde,The force of looue is felt more sensibly & stronger in them that seeke to expell it. whose force the more it is resisted, the more it is felte, pardon my simple and foolishe en­counter, which I haue made against the pearcing weapons of thy vnknowen and puissant Sonne: And worke with mée at thy owne pleasure. And stooping to thy will, guerdon my faith as thou hast promised at fit time and conuenient place, because that others praysing thy effectes in me, and wishing themselues the like, the number of thy subiects may without ende encrease.

I had scarcelie spoken these wordes, when moouing from the place where she stood, she came to me, and with a feruent kinde of affection and merrie countenaunce embracing mée, she first kissed my forehead, and afterwardes, as false Asca­nius breathing secréet and burning fire into Dido her mouth so she respiring the lyke into mine, made my first desires more whot, and my passions more feruent, as after to the ru­ine of my tormented hart I felte them. And opening a little her purple vaile, she shewed me betwéene her delicate paps, y^e liuely image of my belooued gentleman, enfolded in a fyne garment, whose swéete face séemed to be full of many cares, [Page 15] not much vnlike to mine, and sayde thus. Beholde young Ladye thy loouinge and loyall gentleman. And wee haue not giuen thée Lista, Geca, nor Birria for thy loouer, nor one like to any of these. But being most worthy for many braue parts, and a beautiful personage to be belooued of any God­desse, dooth looue thée (as we haue ordained) more then hym­selfe, and will continue the same for euer. Wherefore dri­uing all foolish feare away, addicte thy selfe ioyfully againe to his pure and deserued looue. Thy meritorious prayers haue with pittie penetrated into our eares, and therefore as­sure thy selfe that thou shalt without fayle according to thy will and workes reape no small benefit of them. And thus without speaking any more she vanished sodainly out of my sight.

Alas poore wretch that I am, could I other wise thinke trying the sequelles of her sugered suggestions, and of my ensuing miseries, but that this counterfaite Goddesse, was rather cruell Ctesiphone, then gentle Venus, y^t thus appea­red vnto me, who laying aside for a while her vglie and hide­ous heaire, no otherwise then Iuno the shining glory of her deity, and taking vpon her a deuine forme, as she did an olde and crooked shape, represented her before my eyes, as shée came to Semele, giuing me, as she did also her, swéet counsell mixte with reueng and poysonne of my finall ouerthrowe and helplesse fall: receiuing which into my miserable brest, was the greatest occasion, and only cause, O godly fayth, re­uerend shame, and most holy chastity, to driue and banishe you from the same, from that then chast (I meane) but nowe vnworthy and spotted brest of myne. But pardon swéete vertues, pardon me, if due penaunce of a sinner, and sustayned punishment of this guilte, may impetrate any remission or fauour at all. But now after the Goddesse was gonne from my sight I remayned as one resolute to followe her pleasu­res: And although this furious passion which I passed trou­bled my wittes, and dulled al my sences, one onely sparke of all that good, and wisedome, which was lost and gonne, kind­led (I knowe not for what deserte of mine) a prudent coun­sell, [Page] and knowledge of this true rule in my smothered and consumed hart,To disclo­sed looue a happy end, is sildome or neuer graunted. which was, that looue once discouered doth neuer or very seldome come to a happy and good ende. And therefore amongest other profound thoughtes (although it was harde for me to doo) I intended not to prefer wil before reason, in bringing such desires to theyr wished ende. And though I was truely by diuers intermediate chaunces greatly constrained, yet so much fauour was graunted mée, that without ouercharging the marke, and stoutlie endu­ring the gréefe, I passed it well away. And yet in truth the forces which I yet haue, are of sufficient power to vpholde and conserue such counsayle. Because (although I write most true things) I haue in such order set them downe, that except he, who dooth knowe them as well I, being the occasion of them all, no other, were he of neuer so sharpe a witte and readie conceite, could, vnderstande and knowe that it was I. And euen him I pray (if this little booke chaunce e­uer to come to his handes,) that, for that looue which some­times he bare me, he would conceale that, which in manife­sting it, would not turne to his honor or profitte. And if hee haue taken that looue from me without any demerite of my owne part, that at the least, he would not dispossesse me of that honor, which, (admit that iniustlie I haue it) he cannot (though he would) render vnto me againe. Adhering there­fore to this determination, and brideling my eger desires, and too to foreward in their owne discouery, with a strained and vnpatient rayne of sufferaunce, I endeuored with all diligence (and at my fittest oportunity) by aluring meanes, and did practise fine & subtile demonstrances to kindle the young gentleman with those coales, with the which my selfe was inflamed, and to warne him to be as warie, & cunning in his proper affayres, as I was wise & circumspect in my actions.

In bringing which to spéedy effect, daungerous delayes were not deferred, and thought not my trauile in the same, eyther to long or to great,The condi­tion of the heart is of­ten times comprehended in these which are a like. because if the true testimonie of the qualities of the hart is comprised in those, which are not different in passiōs, I quickly perceiued, that wished effects [Page 16] did followe my desires: whereupon I sawe him not only ful of amorous heate, but very wise also and expert in pursu­sing his amorous enterprises, which thinges did yéeld me no small ioy and great contentation. With as earnest care therfore and due consideration, tendring my vnsuspected honor, as also to satisfie his déepe desires, when time and place dyd graunt him fit oportunitie, he did seriously solilicite me, and (as I beléeue) not without great paine, trying the vtmost of his skil) to gaine the familiaritie of euery one, that was née­rest allyed, & did daily conuerse with me, but especially and last of al, to insinuate into the acquaintaunce of my husband and firmely to purchase his freendship. The which he did not only obtaine, but did with such shewe of great goodwill and fauour enioye it, that there was nothing that might content or please either of them, if mutually and loouinglie the same was not made knowen to each other. I beléeue (fayre Ladies) that without writing it, you may easily knowe, or at least may imagine, how greatly this pleased me. For what woman is there so foolishe, who would not especiallie conceiue as much?

This singuler and wished priuiledge, I enioyed by this happy familiaritie, that publiquely, and in all companies I might talke with him, and he discourse with me againe. Who thinking it nowe hie time to procéede to matters of greater effects, sometimes with some other (perceiuing that I might both héere and vnderstand him) discoursed of suche thinges, by the which I knewe, (most willing to learne the principles of this newe lawe) not by his talke onely,Not with words onely, but with actions and gesture loue may be manifested, which he had with others, that he could cunningly and subtillie de­clare his affection, and finely haue an aunswer thereof a­gaine, but with diuers motions also of his handes, and ges­ture in his countenaunce, and body, he coulde passing well perfourme the same. And thus with pretty lessons pleasing my willing minde so much, I learned also to bee so diligent and warie a scholler, that I would not tell him any thing, or he to me againe, but by these vnsuspected meanes, whereby equally and iustly we conceiued our hidden conceits. Nor being [Page] yet content with these honest helpes, by figuratiue spée­ches and inuented names hee taught mee howe to speake in open company, to make me therby more assured of his feruent looue, calling me by the name of Fiammetta, and hym­selfe Pamphilus: Alas howe many times in the presence of my selfe, and of my déerest fréendes being prittely heated with feasting, and looues eates, did he deuise (fayning Fiam­metta and Pamphilus to be Grecians) how I with him, and he with me, were first combyned in loouing bondes: And af­terwardes what accidentes did ensue of this Grecian looue, collouring his forged nouell with fit and fayned names. It made me truely many times to laughe, not so much at the grauitie and conterfaite modestie in his discourse, as at the simplicitie and good meaning of those, who gaue eare and beléefe to his tale.

And yet I was sometimes afrayd, least that both his disordinate heates might haue vnaduisedly (perhappes) transported his tongue thether, whether, it would afterwardes haue repented, that it runned. But as he was a more prudent & perfect scholler, then I tooke him to be, so did he craftely take héede of speaking of false Latine. O gentle and pitti­full Ladies, what dooth not looue teache his subiectes: and whom dooth not he enable to learne wise discourses, and ac­quainte him with braue and commendable fashione?

My selfe being but a young and simple woman in such pas­times,Looue a cunning master. and scarce able amōgst other gentlewomen my com­panions, in plaine and common thinges to vntie my vnper­fect tongue, by giuing a willing and an affectioned eare to his spéeches, did reape thereby so much fruite, that in a short time, in fayning and talking I thought I did excell euery famous Poet. For there were fewe or none of his presuppo­sed positions, but with a fictions and painted tale I woulde haue effectually argued, and fitly aunswered to the same, (a very hard thing in my opinion for a young gentlewoman to learne so soone, and more difficult to tel, or put in practise.) But all these shiftes would séeme but shadowes, and of no consequence, if I did write and set downe (if present mat­ter [Page 17] shoulde require) with what subtill slights I did experi­ment the faith of one of my most familiar and trusty womē, to whom we bothe purposed to committe the secrecie of our hidden loue (not as yet by spéeches manifested to anie one) considering with my selfe, that enclosed in my burning brest it coulde not bee kept there long without great trouble and gréefe, and perhappes without some violent and suddaine is­sue, vnlesse there were some meanes and remedies applyed to the contrarie. It would be besides this a tedious labour to recount, what counsell, and how manie deuises were excogi­tated betwéene her and me (perhaps in vain and foolish matters) and neuer put in vre, no, not so much as imagined of a­nie before: All which, although I haue séene them putte in tryall to my great preiudice and hinderaunce, I am not sor­rie neuerthelesse, that I haue knowne them.

If I doo not erre (Gentlewomen) in my opinion,With what difficulty louers are contained in the bonds of reason. the great firmenes of our yong yéeres was verie straunge to be­holde, if that with a due and perfecte consideration it is well weighed, how hard a thing it is for the enamored mindes of two yong and rawe louers to continue any long time vnited together, but that on the one or other side, spurred on wyth superfluous and ouerruling desires, they should alter & wander out of reasons course. But the bondes of our loues were so fast knit, and of such rare tenour, that the grauest, wisest, and strongest personages in like passages should haue gotte them high and worthy praises. But now my stayned penne, with an vnbridled and wanton desire, dooth prepare it selfe to write of those finall termes of loue, beyond y^t which none can passe furder with déede or desire whatsoeuer.

But before I come to this point, as humbly as I may, I implore (gentle Ladyes) your pietie, and therewithall that amorous force, which, possessing your tender breastes, dooth also draw your burning desires to such an end. And pray you moreouer, if my spéeches séeme offensiue vnto you, (I speake not of the déede, because I know that if you haue not as yet attained to such felicity, you haue in your minds a thousand times wished to haue felt the same) that then moste prompt [Page] you would arise in my excuse and defence. And thou séemelie and honest shamefastnes to late (alas) entred into my wilful minde, pardon mee, most earnestlie entreating thée to giue place a little while to timerous yong Gentlewomē, because secure and frée from thy restraint and menaces, they may reade that of me, which in their feruent loues (I know) and hote desires, they also wishe might handsomelie befall vnto them. With hungry hope (therfore) and ful of feareful cares, our longing desires,The slack dealing in conducting amorous desires to their end, is very bitter. yet lingring delaies drew one eche daie after other, which bothe of vs with painfull thoughts didde hourelie endure, albeit that one did manifest y^e same in daily méeting, and secrete talke together, and the other did shewe her selfe in graunting of it verie coye, and in shewe repug­nant (though against her will) as you your selues in séeking that (which perhaps most of all doth please your wanton ap­petites) doo knowe well enough that enamoured yong gen­tlewomen are wont to doo. He therfore giuing but little cre­dit to my words in these denials, attending fitt time & place, more audacious then aduised in that which he did, and more fortunate then wise, obtained that of me, which I as wel as he (though with a fained face, and a little rigorous resisting to the contrarie) did most gréedilie desire. But if I shoulde for all this affirme, that this was the occasion that made mée loue him more, I must confesse that euery time, that the re­membraunce thereof touched my guiltie minde, it brought with it an incomparable gréefe. Wherefore let the Gods a­boue, (the secrete serchers of our harts) bee witnesses wyth me héerein, that this ineuitable accident was then, and yet is, the least cause of that great loue which I beare him. Al­beit not denying, but that this was thē, and euermore since, a most swéete, wyshed, and welcommed delight vnto mee.

And what simple and slender witted woman is shee, who would not wish that thing, which she déerely loued to bee ra­ther néere vnto her, then farre of from her, and by how much she loued & desired it, by so much more, to féele y^e same néerest of al vnto her. I say therfore, that after such a quickly passed chance, not fallen in the cōpasse of my belly before, thogh not [Page 18] seldome times tossed in my thoughts, with excéeding ioy and fauourable fortune, not once, but manie times by meanes of our proper wits, and new inuentions, we recreated our sel­ues with this maner of dainty disport, although y^e pleasures of the same is now (alas) lighter then y^e windes flowne from me vnhappy womā. But yet while these pleasant times pas­sed on, as loue it selfe can make true report, and giue sole te­stimony therof, somtimes his vnlawful comming vnto me, was not without great feare, when by some secret means or other, and at vnseasonable times he would he with mée: yet how déere was my Chamber vnto him, and with what ioye, and how willingly did it euermore receiue him, whom I did also know to vse more reuerence in the same, then in any holie Temple. Alas how manie pleasant kisses, what infinite number of louing embracements, & how many swéet nights more gracious and déere to vs then the lightsome & cléerest daies, did we passe together without sléepe in pleasant deui­ses & dainty discourses. How many other delights most déere to euery Louer,Maydenly shamfastnes a most hard bridle to wanton and forwarde mindes haue we felt in y^t blessed Chamber in y^e mer­rie prime of our happy daies. O most holye shamefastnes (a pinching and hard bridle to wanton & youthful minds) wherfore once again at my request dost thou not depart? why dost thou witholde my pen ready to vnfolde our passed ioyes, and pleasures. Alas, in thinking perhaps to gratify me, thou dost gréeue me, & to help me, thou dost hinder me. To those womē therfore to whō nature hath granted so large & ample a pri­uiledge, that by those things which are spoken, they may cō ­prehend & imagine the rest which are cōcealed to others, not so wise as these, let them be manifest & [...]aid open. Nor let not any cal me foole, as ignorant of so much, in knowing well e­nough, that it should haue béen more honesty for me to haue cōcealed, then to manifest y^t which is already written. But who can countermaunde Loue, when with working all hys might and force, he dooth oppose himselfe? At this point ma­ny times I let my pen fall out of my handes, and as often a­gaine (molested by him) I tooke it vppe, and put it to his former taske.

And finally like a subiect and bond woman I must néeds serue him, whom, (when I was frée in the beginning) I knew not how to resist. He shewed me, that hidden delights and priuy pleasures,Delights which are hidden are as much worth as buried treasure. were as much worth againe as hoorded Iewels and secrete treasures. But wherefore doo I féede and please my humour about these wordes. I say, that then I thanked infinite times the holly Goddesse, the promiser, and performer of these swéete ioyes: Oh how many times crowned with her gréene leaues, did I visit her sacred Temples, offering vp swéete incense to her diuine Aulters, and howe often did I condemne the olde Nurce, and her simple coun­sell: and did besides this (reioysing and glorying my selfe a­boue all other enamoured yong Gentlewomen and Ladies, that I knewe and kept company with) scorne and laughe at their ridiculous & appassionated loues, blaming that in my spéeches, which was déerest to my soule, saying many times to my selfe. There is no woman beloued so as I am, nor a­ny Lady, bée shee neuer so noble and faire, that dooth loue so braue, so wise, and so worthy a yong Gentlemanne as I doo, nor that doth with so greate delight and pleasure reape such amorous fruite in a paradise of all ioy, nor in so great aboundance, as I most happilie and hourely doo taste.

And to bee short, in respect of this, I estéemed the whole world as a trifle of no accounte, and thought that I reached the highest heauens with my thrise happy heade, and want­ing (as I thought) nothing els to attaine to the highest top of felicitie, and to y^e full accomplishment of all my pleasures and swéete contents, but onely to haue had the occasion of all my blis-full ioy, and blessed fortune manifested, and made o­penly knowne to the worlde, thinking with my selfe, that that which delighted me so much, should (as my selfe) haue pleased euery one alike: But thou Oh bashfulnesse on the one side, and thou feare on the other, you haue (I say) with helde me, the one threatning me eternall infamie, and the other, the losse of that, of which indéede enuious fortune did afterwards miserably despoyle me.

Thus therefore I passed this golden and gladsome time [Page 19] many dayes and monethes (as it pleased Loue) wythout e­mulating any louing Ladye or enamoured Gentlewoman, louing most happily, and liuing most ioyfully in a worlde of swéete content, and swymming with full sayles in Seas of heauenly felicities, and of all manner of delights, not enter­tayning so much as a thought of discontent and sorrowe, and neuer imagining, that these pleasures, which then my mer­ry hart was so amply and thorowly possessed of, shoulde bee the roote and plant (in time to come) of my miserable woes, and wofull miseries, which at this present, without any hope or remedy at all to my haplesse paine & endlesse gréefe, too well I know, and most sencibly féele.

WHilst that O deerest Ladies, I spent my merry dayes in so pleasaunt and iocund a life, as is aboue written, neuer thin­king of future chaunces, cruell fortune dydde secretlie prepare her malicious poyson for mée, and with continuall courage (my selfe not suspecting a­nie thing) did at an inche pursue my ioyfull life. And think­ing that (in making me become a vassall to loue, and in my chiefest time of ioy and liberty,) shée was not well appaide, but perceiuing how this my swéete seruitude did yéelde me great delight, shee endeuoured with a more stinging nettle to torment and pricke my poore and séely soule. And her ap­pointed time béeing now come, shee tempered (as after you shall perceiue) her bitter galls and woormewood for my vn­willing and feeble stomacke: which (maugre my téeth) com­pelling me to drink, turned my present myrth into suddaine sadnes, and my wonted laughter into wofull lamentations: which thinges not onely enduring, but yet thinking it my duetie in wryting them, to shewe them to some others, I tooke such compassion of my selfe, that taking almost all my force from me, and bringing infinite teares to myne eyes, it did hardly permitt mee any thing effectually to execute my [Page 20] purpose héerein: which, albeit I may very yll doo, yet wyll I forcibly goe about to performe the same.

After that he and I (the weather falling out verie colde and rainie) were in my Chamber together, reposing and sollacing our selues vppon a sumptuous and swéete bedde, and Lady Citherea wearied, nay almost ouercome, the dark and silent night with her long tariance fauourably graunted to our pleasant and desired sports, fitte oportunitie of time and place: And a great light hanging in the midst of the Cham­ber glutted his eyes and myne, (viewing each others beau­tie) with excéeding ioy: of which, while I recreated my mind in gazing and discoursing of his, mine eyes did drinke a superfluous kind of swéetnes, which (making their lights inebriated (as it were) with the same, with deceitfull sléepe (I know not how) a little while oppressed, and my wordes interrupted also in the middes) remained locked vppe close in their lyddes.

Which pleasant and swéete slumber, passing so mildlie away from me, as it came, my eares by chaunce hearde cer­taine doolefull mutterings and sorrowfull bewaylings vtte­red forth by my best beloued. Wherfore suddainly troubled in minde, and my thoughts at warre within themselues for his welfare, made mee almoste interrupt him wyth these words. Swéete hart what doost thou ayle? But countermanded" by new counsell, I kept them in, and with a sharpe eye and subtile eares, secretely beholding him turned nowe on the otherside of the bedde, I lystened a good while to his so­rowfull and silent words, but mine eares did not apprehend anie of thē, albeit I might perceiue him molested with great store of lamentable sobbes and sighes, that hée cast forth, and by séeing also hys breast bedewed all wyth teares.

What words (alas) canne sufficiently expresse, wyth howe manie cares my poore soule all thys while (beeing ignoraunt of the cause) was afflicted? A thousand thoughts in one moment did violentlie runne vppe and downe in my doubtfull mynde, méeting all at the laste, and concludinge in one thing, which was▪ that hee louing some other [Page] Woman, remained wyth me héere, and in this sorte against hys wyll.

My words were very often at the brinck of my mouth, to examine the cause of his greefe, but doubting least hee la­menting in this sorte, and béeing suddainly espied and inter­rupted of me, he might not bee greatly abashed thereat, they retyred back, and went downe again: and oftentimes like­wise, I turned away mine eies from beholding him, because least the hote teares distilling from them, and falling vppon him, might haue giuen him occasion and matter to knowe, that I perceiued his wofull plight. Oh how many impati­ent meanes did I imagine to practise, because that he (awa­king me) might coniecture, that I hadde neither hearde his sighes, nor séene his teares: and yet agréed to none at all.

But ouercome at the last with eager desire to knowe the occasion of his complaint, because hee shoulde turne him to­wards mee, as those, who in their déepest sléepe, terryfied by dreaming of some great fall, wylde beast, or of some ghastlie thing, giue a suddaine start, and in most fearefull wise rouse vppe themselues, affrighted out of theyr sléepe and wyttes at once, euen so wyth a suddayne and timorous voice I skri­ked, and lifting vppe my selfe, I violently caste one of my armes ouer his shoulders. And truly my deceit deceiued me not, because (closely wyping away his teares) with infinite (though counterfet) ioy, he quickly turned towardes mée a­gaine, and with a pittifull voice sayd.

My fayrest and swéetest soule, of what wert thou afraid? Whō without delay I answered thus. My Loue I thought I had lost thée. My words (alas) I knowe not by what spy­rite vttered forth, were most true presagers and foretellers of my future losse, as nowe to true I find it.

But he replyed. O déerest déere, not hatefull death, nor anie aduerse chaunce of vnstable Fortune whatsoeuer, can worke such operations in my firme breast, that thou (my on­lie ioy) shalt leese me for euer. And incontinently a greate and profound sighe folowed these pittiful words, the cause of which not so soone demaunded of mee (who was also moste [Page 21] desirous to knowe the ofspring of his first lamentations) but sodainely two streames of teares from both his eyes (as from two fountaines) beganne to gushe out amaine, and in great aboundance to drench his sorrowfull breast, not yet thorowlie dryed vp by his former wéeping. And holding mée poore soule (plunged in a gulfe of gréefes, & ouercome with flooddes of brinish teares) a longe time in a dolefull and doubtfull suspence, before (euen so did the violence of his, sobbes and sighes stoppe the passage of his wordes) he could aunswer any thing to my demaundes againe.

But after that he felt the tempest of his outragious passion somewhat calmed, with a sorrowfull voyce, yet still inter­rupted with many heauy sighes, he sayde thus againe. O déerest Lady and sole Mistresse of my afflicted hart, and one­ly belooued of me aboue all other women in the worlde, as these extraordinarie effectes are true recordes of the same: If my plaintes deserue any credite at all, thou mayst then beléeue, that my eyes not without a gréeuous occasion shed earst such plenty of bitter teares, when so euer that is obiec­ted to my memory, which, (remaininge nowe with thée in great ioye) dooth cruelly torment my heart to thinke of, that is when I remember with my selfe, that thou mayest not (alas faine would I that thou couldest) make two Panphi­lowes of me, because remaining héere, and being also there, whether vrgent and necessary affayres doo perforce compell me (most vnwillingly) to retire, I might at one time fulfill the lawes of looue, and my pittifull, naturall, and duetifull deuoyre, O my aged and loouing father. Being therefore not able to suffer any more, my pensiue hart with remembrance of it, is continually with great affliction galled more and more, as one, whom pitty drawing on the one side, is taken out of thy armes, and on the other side with great force of looue is still reteyned in them. All these reasons are condem­ned of lo­uers, which perturbe their ioyes.

These wordes perced my miserable hart with such ex­tréeme bitternesse, as I neuer felt before. And although my dusked wittes did not well vnderstand them, notwithstan­ding (as much as my eares and sences attentiue to theyr [Page] harmes did receiue and conceiue of them) by so much more, the very same conuerted into teares, issued out of my eyes, leauing behinde them their cruell & malicious effects in my hart. This was therefore (good Ladies) the fyrst hower, in y^e which I felt such grudgīg gréefs enuious of my plesures: this was y^t hower which made me power forth vnmesurable teares, y^e like neuer spent of me before, whose course and maine streames not any of his comforts, & consolatory words could stop & stench one whit. But after I had a long time together remained in woefull walinges, enfolding him loouingly beetwéene my armes, I praied him, (as much as I could to tell me more cléerely what pittie, & what due pyetie that was, that did drawe him out of my armes, and threaten me his absence, wherupō not ceasing to lament, he said thus vnto me.

Ineuitable death the finall ende of all thinges, of manie other sonnes hath left me sole to suruiue with my aged and reuerent father, who burdened with many yeres, and liuing without the swéet companie of his deceased wife, and louing brothers, who might in his olde yéeres carefully comforte him, and remaining now without any hope of more issue, being determined not to marrie, dooth recall me home to sée hym, as the chéefest part of his consolation, whome he hath not séene these many yéeres past. For shifting of which iour­nie (because I would not swéet Fiammetta leaue thée) there are not a fewe monthes past, when fyrst by diuers meanes I beganne to frame some iust and reasonable excuse. But he in fyne, not accepting of any, did not cease to coniure me, by the essence, which I had by him, and by my impotent child­hoode tenderly brought vp, and nourtered in his lappe, by that looue, which continually he had borne mee, and by the duetie and that looue, which I should beare him againe, and by that requisite obedience which euery chyld should beare vnto his father, and by all other things, that he thought most effectuall and perswasiue, did like a familiar fréende (whose parte is rather to commaund) pray me, that, to commiserate his aged and declyning yéeres, and to tender his welfare I would with spéede returne to visite him. And besides this, [Page 22] with solemnes othes, and serious obtestations, he caused all his fréendes, and agents in these partes, and with most ear­nest entreaties prouoked them incessantly to pricke me on in this behalfe, saying, that if he did not sée me shortly with him,The lawes of nature are most strong, his miserable soule would vtterly forsake his olde and comfortlesse body. But (alas) howe strong and forcyble are the lawes of nature? I could not presently assent, nor yet can scarce resolue with my selfe, that, by reason of the great loue I beare thée, these pittious exorations should take place in me. Whereupon hauing with thy good leaue determined to goe sée him, and for his great comfort to remaine some short space of time with him, and not knowing also, how I could liue without thée, all these (I say) occurring and accumula­ted in my sorrowfull memorie, doo make me euery hower (swéete Lady) most iustly and sorrowfully complaine. And thus he helde his peace.

If there was euer any of you (fayre Ladyes) that in her most feruent and zealous looue had euer had so hard and bit­ter a Pille as this, euen she I thinke dooth know, with what incomparable gréefe, my minde, (nourished long since with foode of his looue, and set one fyre with vnspeakable flames of my owne) was then afflicted: But others, frée from such amorous passions could not conceiue, because as allegations of extrauagant examples, so all my spéeches besides would not be sufficient to induce them to beléeue the same.The force of an amo­rous passi­on, In bréefe therefore I say, that hearing these wordes, my soule did séeke to leape out of my body, and it had (I thinke) flowen away, if betwéene his armes whome most of all it looued, it had not béene straightly embraced, and forciblye reteyned. But all the partes of my body remaining neuerthelesse full of shaking feare, and my hart puffed with swelling gréefe, and weltring in the passions of these agonies, they bereaued me a pritty while of my spéech. But afterwards by quantity of time made more pliable to sustaine these neuer felte sor­rowes, and vnwoonted paynes, a certayne féeble and feare­full force was restored to my daunted spirites. And my eies, whose conduites stopped by the violence of this vnexpected [Page] accident, did now burst out into great plenty of teares, and the stringes of my tongue contracted together with sharpe sorrowe, were now dissolued to vtter and breath out the confused anguish, and conceiued sorrowes in my minde. Wher­fore turning me to the Gardien and Lord of my life, embra­cing him, I sayd thus.

O final hope, and soueraigne comfort of my afflicted soule: let these my pittifull words take place with force in thy flée­ting minde, diuert thée from thy newe purpose, because if thou doost so déerely looue me, as thou shewest, thy life and mine, before theyr naturall and prefixed period commeth, may not ioyntly be depriued of this ioyfull and swéete light. Haled on by duetifull pitty, and drawne backe againe by zealous looue, thou puttest all thy future fortunes in doubt­full hazard. But certes if all thy words are true, with which thou hast not once, but many times heretofore affirmed, that thou didst looue me, no other pittie therfore then this should be more mightie, and of greater force to resist, nor (whyle I liue) to withdrawe thée to any other place. And harken why. It is not vnknowen to thée, if thou followest that course, which thou séemest to doo, in what a doubtfull & miserable e­state thou leauest my poore life, which heretofore hath hardly passed one day not without great sorrowe, when I could not sée thée. Then mayest thou by this be more acertained, y^t whē thou doost omitte to visite me so long togeather, all my ioyes will vtterly forsake mee, and this (alas) would be to much. But who dooth not doubt, that all kindes of woes, sorrowe, and anxieties will assaile mee, and succéede in theyr place, which (without any resistance, that I can possibly make) will perhappes dissolue my vitall powers into nothing. Thou shouldest haue already knowen, howe weake and impotent young women are, to rebacke such cruell and aduerse occur­rauntes, and what féeble force they haue, with a stronge and resolute minde to endure them. If peraduenture thou wilte obiect and say, that in the fyrst beginning of my looues, I haue both wisely and stoutly suffered greater aduersities then these, I will truely agrée with thée herein, but the occa­sions [Page 23] of them, and of these are diuers. My hope placed in my owne vallour, made that séeme lyght vnto me, which now béeing put in an other his will) wilbe to heauy for mee to supporte. Who did euer denie me, when burning desire had beyond all measure kindled my brest, and surcharged it with furious passions, that being enamored of thée, as thou wert also of me, I might not enioy thée? Truely no bodie. Which comfort (when thou art so farre sequestred from me) will not so easelie fall to my lotte. Besides this, I enioyed no more then, but the sight of thy swéete face, and goodlie personage, and knewe thée no more but by the outward figure, lineaments, and proportion of thy body, although in my hart I made great account and prise of thée, but nowe haue by good proofe perceiued and felt in déede, that, as thou art nowe to be estéemed a great deale déerer of me, then the reache of my imagination could then extend vnto, euen so art thou now become mine own with that assured surenes, & those in­dissoluble bōds, with which true loouers may possibly be held and vnited to those, that looue them againe.It is a grea­ter greefe to leese a certaintie for an vn­certaintie. And who dooth not doubt moreouer, that it is a greater gréefe to loose that, which one hath in holde, then that, which he hopeth to haue, although his hope therein bee not afterwardes frustrate. Wherefore considering this matter well, I plainely sée my death will soone approch. Shall therefore the looue of thy olde father be preferred before that great affection, which thou oughtest to haue of me, be the ominous occasiō of my vntime lie death.

And if thou doost so, thou art certes no loouer but an open enemie. Ah wilt thou make more account of those few yéeres reserued for the miseries of thy olde father, then of these ma­ny, which by great reason and likelihood I haue, (liuing ioy­fully with thée) to spende. Alas what indiscréete folly were this? Doost thou beléeue that any one conioyned to thée in pa­rentage, néerest in blood, or most firme in mutuall fréendship, dooth looue thee so much as I doo? If this be thy beléefe (be­léeue me Pāphilus) it is erronious. For truely none can looue thée better, and holde thée (swéete Pāphilus) déerer then I doo. [Page] If therefore I looue thée more then others,He that dooth loue most deser­ueth more pittie. I deserue then to be requited with greater looue and pittie then others. Prefer me therfore worthely before the rest, & being pittiful towar­des me, forget all other pittie, that might offend and preiu­dicate this, and let thy olde father, as hee hath liued a longe time without thée, enioy (a Gods name) his wonted rest with out thy companie. And lette him from hence foorth (if so he please) liue amongest the rest of his other fréends and alies: And if not, let him dye. If it bee true (as I haue hearde) hee hath a good while since escaped the deadly stroke of death, and hath liued longer here then was conuenient for his ne­cessary health, and if he liue in payne & with much troble (as cōmonly olde men do) thou shalt in thy absence shew thy self more pittiful towards him, to let him die, thē, w^c thy presence to prolōg his trobled & tired life. But thou oughtest rather to succour me poore soule whose life hath not béene a good while since, but by thy swéet cōpanie preserued, nor cannot tell how without the same, to enioy this mundane light, & who being yet in the prime of my tender age, dooth hope to liue and lead with thée many ioyfull monthes, and yéeres together. If thy iourney were to such purpose, and could worke such super­naturall effectes in thy olde father his body,Medea her medicamentes restored to olde Aeson his youth a­gaine. as the charmes of Medea, and her medicinall spelles did vppon olde Aeson, then would I say, that by iust pietie thou wert instiged, and would highly commend this requisite pittie, and although it would séeme repugnaunt to my will, yet would I wishe and allowe of this deuotion in thée, and exhorte thée to the perfor­maunce of it.

But such a miracle, passing the lawes and boundes of na­ture, can neuer come to passe, according to thy naturall rea­son, as thou knowest well enough. Behold then if perhappes thou shewest thy selfe more cruell and rigorous to mee (then I beléeue, or imagine thou wilt) or doost so little care for me, whome on thy owne mere choyce, and not by compulsion thou hast looued, and yet doost, that aboue my looue, thou wilt for all this aduaunce the lost and helplesse charity of the olde man, take some pitty at the least of thy owne estate, and ca­ring [Page 24] little for him, and bemoning me lesse, rue thy owne condition, whom (if first thy countenaunce, and afterwardes thy wordes haue not deceiued me, I haue séene to be more deade then aliue, as euen nowe thou werte (without perceiuing me, that did marke thée) by some vncouth accident, is a most extreame and sorrowfull passion, and depriued once of my sight,By long greefe and sorrow men dre. and debarred of my company doost thou beléeue to lyue so long tyme, as this pittilesse pittie dooth require. Alas for the looue thou bearest to the Goddes, looke better to thy selfe, and sée what likely hoode of death (if by longe and lingring gréefe men dye, as I sée it dayly by others) this iourney (ah this inopinate & vnluckie iourney) wil yéeld thée: which, how harde moreouer and vnpleasaunt it is to thée, thy sorrowfull sobbes and teares, and the vnwoonted moouing of thy heart, which panting and beating vp and downe in thy breast I féele, doo plainely shewe: And if not apparraunt death (which is most like) a worser and more cruell condition of life, then any death, (be assured) will accompany thée. Alas that my enamored hart, vrged with great pitty, that it hath of my owne distresse, & constrained by that tender cōpassion, which I féele for thée, must now play the humble suppliaunt, to pray and intreate thée, and to aduise thée also, that thou wouldest not be so fond (what kind of pittie soeuer moouing thée therunto) as with euident & iminent daunger, to hazard thy safe persō.

Who loo­ueth not himselfe possesseth nothing in this world.Why, thinke that those, who doo not looue them selues pos­sesse nothing in y^e wide world. Thy father of whom (forsooth) thou art so pittifull, did not giue thée to the world because thou shouldest be thy owne minister and occasion of taking thy selfe away out of it againe. And who dooth not beléeue, but, that if our estate were as manifest, or could be lawfullie tolde vnto him, that he (being wise and of mature iudgemēt and experience) would rather say. Stay there still. And if dis­cretion and reason would not, pitty at the least would induce him to it, and this (I am assured) thou knowest wel enough. It is therfore great reason, that what iudgment in his own tried cause he hath giuen, he should, (and is most likely) that he wold in our cause (if he knew it) giue also the very same. [Page] Wherefore omitte this troublesome iourney, vnprofitable to thée, vnpleasaunt to me, and preiudiciall to vs both. As these (my dearest Lord) are reasons forcible enough (if followed) to keepe thée from going hence, so are there many more not a little effectuall (if put in practise) to dehort, thée from going hence, as fyrst for example, cōsidering the place whether thou goest. For put case thou doost bende thy iourney thether, where thou wert borne, thy natiue soyle and naturall coun­trey, and a place belooued more of thée then any other, (as I haue heard thée say) in certaine thinges annoyous, and for certaine causes hated of thée. Because thy Citty (as thou thy self hast told) is ful of haughtie & boasting wordes, but more replenished with pusillanimous and vnperformed déeds. And that they are not onely slaues to a thousand confused lawes but to as many different oppinions as there are men. All which (as well forriners, as Cittizens) naturally contencious, and full of garboyles, doo dayly rage in ciuill broyles, and intestiue warres. And (as it is full of proude, couetous, and malicious people, so is it not vnfurnished of innumerable and intricate cares, the least of which is (I know) most contrary to the good disposition of thy quiet minde.

Naples,But this noble Citty which thou doost intend to forsake (I am sure) thou art not ignoraunt, with what ioyfull peace it dooth continually florishe, how famous it is for plenty of all commodities, how opulent, shining in glory and magnificen­sie, & how heroycally administred, vnder the sole regiment of a mightie and inuincible king. All which thinges, I knowe (if euer thy appetite I haue knowen) are most pleasant to thy daintie tast.It is some times law­ful to praise ones selfe. And besides all these rehersed pleasures, here am I (here am I Panphilus) whom thou shalt neither find there nor mayst liue within any other place. Leaue of therfore thy sorowful determination, & chaunging the vnaduised counsell into better consideration, haue regard (I pray thée by tarying here stil) to the comfort & weale of both our liues. My words encreased his teares in great aboundance, of the which, with intermingled and swéet kisses, I drunke vp some. But after many a heauy sigh, that he fetched, he answered me thus a­gaine. [Page 25] O chéefest and singuler felicitie of my soule, I (doubt­lesse) know thy words to be most true, as by euery manifest daunger included in them, thou hast plainly set down before my eyes.

But because (since present and vrgent necessity doth re­quire, which I would it did not) I may bréefely answer thée, I tel thée, that to paie and acquite with a short gréefe, a long and great debt, I thinke (my Fiammetta) thou wilt easilye graunt that I may and must iustly doo. Thou must therefore think, and rest assured, that (although I am sufficiently by the pitty of my sicke and aged Father duely obliged) yet am I no lesse (nay rather more straightly) bounde by the same, which I ought to haue of vs bothe, which, if it were lawfull to discouer, it woulde of it selfe séeme excusable enough, pre­supposing, that what thou hast said shoulde bee iudged of my Father, or of any other els for him, I would then leaue, and let my olde Father die, without séeing him at all. But since it behooueth, that this pittie muste bee couert and kept close, and accomplished also, without manifesting the cause of it, I sée not how, without great infamy and reprehensiō, I might anie way desist to performe the same.

To auoide which due slaunder in not discharge of my duetie, frowning Fortune shall but thrée or foure monethes at the most interrupt & suspend our woonted delights, which no sooner expired, but without all faile thou shalt sée me ioy­fully return to thée againe, and make both our harts as glad at our merry méeting, as they are nowe dolefully daunted with their sorrowfull parting. And if the place, to which I goe, is so vnpleasant as thou makest it, (and as it is indéede compared with this thy swéete selfe also béeing héere) then this must greatly content thée, thinking, that if there were no other occasion, that shoulde prouoke mee to departe from thence, the qualities of the place, moste contrarye to the disposition of my mind, would bee forcible motiues to make me returne and come hither againe. Graunt mee therefore (swéete Mistresse) this fauoure, that I may goe thither, and as thou hast béene héeretofore most carefull of my estate and [Page] honor, so now likewise tender the same, and arme thy mind with patience in this crosse of spightfull Fortune, because knowing this accident to be most gréeuous vnto thée. I may héere after make my selfe more assured, that in anie chaunce of Fortune whatsoeuer, my honor is as déere to thée, as my selfe.

He had now saide, and helde his peace when I be ganne thus to reioyne as foloweth. Nowe doo I cléerely sée that, which framed in thy inflexible mind thou dost beare inexorable. And I scarcely thinke, that in the same thou doost admit any thought at all of those great & infinite cares, with which thou leauest my distressed soule so heauily burdened, deui­ding thy selfe from me,Things that are wont to hurt a lo­uers mind which not one day, night, nor houre, canne possiblie liue héere without a thousande feares. And I shall remaine in continuall doubt of thy life, which (I pray the Gods) may be prolonged aboue my daies, to thine owne will and desire. Alas what néede I with superfluous spéeche prolong the time in discoursing and reciting of them by one and one?Dangers that hang daily ouer mortal mē. thy selfe knowing well enough, that the Sea hath not so manie sandes, nor heauen so manie starres, as there be doubtfull and dangerous perilles that are imminent, and commonly incident to mortall men. All the which (if y^u go­est from hence) as doubtles they will not a little feare mee, so will they greatlie offend and hurt thée. Woe is me for my sorrowful life, I am ashamed to tell thée that, which nowe commeth to my mind: but because by y^t which I haue heard it séemeth a thing possible and likely, constrained therfore I will tell it thée. Now if in thy country, in the which (as the common fame is, and as my selfe perticulerly haue hearde) there is an infinite number of faire and daintie Ladies, who spending their yong yeres in cunning loue, & solemne sports and feasts, (the first a passion especially incident to them, and the second a common thing vsed there) with wanton and a­luring meanes are most expert to entise and procure loue a­gain, thy wandring eie should espie some one of these, which might perhappes, please thy absent hart, and so for her loue, shouldest neglect and forget mine, ah what a miserable life [Page 26] should I then leade? Wherefore, if thou doost beare me such feruent affection (as thou sayest and séemest to doo) imagine howe thou wouldest take it, if for exchaunge of an other, (which thinge shall neuer come to passe) I should denye thée (Panphilus) my loue: But before my true hart shoulde har­bour one trecherous thought thereof, these handes of myne should rent it from my brest, and be the executioners of my iust death.

But let vs leaue these imaginations, and that which wée desire may neuer happen, let vs not with ominous auguries diuinate, and tempt the Gods in vaine. But if thy minde be resolutly bent to departe, and forasmuch as there is nothing that can please mee, which may anie wayes displease and discontent thée, I must of necessity dispose my selfe to bee a­gréeable to thy wyll héerein. Notwithstanding, with earnest prayers I request thée, that it would please thée in one thing to follow my minde, in delaying (I meane) yet a little lon­ger (if possiblye it may bée) thy suddaine and sorrowful iour­ney, during which time, imagining in the meane time thy departure, & with continuall thinking thereof, presupposing thy absence, I may with lesse gréefe of mind, learne & frame my selfe to liue without thee: which is no straunge thing for mée to request, nor harde for thée to graunt, since that the weather, which for this time of the yéere is most vnreaso­nable, doth greatlie encline to the helpe and fauour of thys my desire, and is most contrary to the drifte of thy determi­nation.

Why, doost not thou sée,Virgill im­mitated in the 4. boke of Aeneas. howe the skyes full of dark and blacke clowdes, with tempests, stormes, and flooddes of powring rayne, and Hylles of thicke snowes choaking vppe the waies, with raging and boysterous windes, and horri­ble thunders, doo dailie threaten the earth and earthlie cre­atures with manifest daungers.

And (as thou canst not otherwise know) how euery little Riuer and Brooke is nowe by these continuall showers of rayne swelled into daungerous and myghtye flooddes. What senceles man thē is hée (pardon me good Panphilus) [Page] who (hauing so small regarde of his life) would in this blu­stering stormy, and yll weather take any voyage or iourney in hand? Doo therfore my pleasure in this reasonable aduise which if thou wilt not do, then tender thy owne safety, & doo the duety which thou owest to thy owne selfe herein. Lett these lowring and doubtfull times passe on, and stay for cal­mer winde and weather to trauell at thine ease, and wyth lesse daunger. And my selfe in the meane while, (accustomed by little & litle, and enured to pensiue & sorrowful thoughts) will with more patience attend thy ioyfull return. To these words he deferred not his aunswere but saide. The tormen­ting paines, and variety of painfull cares, in the which (Oh déerest Mistresse) against my will, content an pleasure, I leaue thée, and those which vnfainedly I carry with mee in mine owne breast, let the comfortable hope of my spéedie re­turne asswage and mittigate. Nor is it (pardon me sweete Ladie) a point of wisedome, to busie thy thoughts about that (death I meane) which may as well preuent mée héere, as surprise in another place, when my destynies must néedes yéeld to their time, and to her stroke. Nor to coniecture and prognosticate of those accidēts possible perhaps to annoy me as more likely to be prosperous vnto me. Where and when soeuer the wrathe of the Gods or their fauour doth light vp­pon one, euen there and then, without vaine resistance, must he be content to suffer good or yll. Referre therefore al these things to their disposition with neuer thinking or once loo­king after them, who knowing our necessities, can prouide better for vs then we our selues: desiring thée to apply thy mind rather, and imploy thy whole cogitations in humble supplications and requests to them (the gracious Goddes I meane) that they may haue a prosperous and happy euent. But that I euer become Louer to any woman, then to thee (Fiammetta) to whose loyall and euerlasting seruice I reli­giouslye dedicate my hart & with oath bind my selfe. Great loue himselfe (yea though I woulde my selfe) wyth all hys might can neuer bring to passe, for with so strong and sure a chaine, Loue hath lincked my hart to thine, swéete affection [Page 27] hath made my soule subiect to thy signorie, and déepe desyre hath bounde mee for euer to thy dispositions. And assure thy selfe of this besides. That the earth shall firste bring foorth glittering Stars, and the heauen (plowed wyth Oxen) shal bring forth ripe corne, before Panphilus shall, or will in any thing transgresse the lawes of thy péerelesse loue, or enter­taine any other woman into the closett of his constant hart. The delay of my departure into my Countrey, which thou dost request of me, if I knew it could any waies auaile thée or be profitable vnto me, I woulde more willingly performe then thou doost require. But since the daily differing of it, is an howrely augmentation of our sorrowes, and in depar­ting nowe, I should returne againe, before the time of my long tariance héere shoulde bee (according perhappes to thy mind) fully finished, I thinke it therefore a great deale bet­ter to hasten my iourney. Which space of time thou dost al­so craue to learne (as thou saist) supposed sorrowes, wherin thou doost simply deceiue thy selfe, considering that in thys meane time thou shouldest haue (my selfe not béeing heere) that selfe same gréefe so forcible and extreame, which at my departure indéede, and in my vnfained absence thou woldest conceiue. And as for the foulenes of the weather, I will vse (as other times I haue béene accustomed to doo) a good and wholesome remedy, which I would (the Gods granted) that I had nowe occasion to practise returning frō thence again, as in departing from hence I know to worke well enough. And therefore with a chéerefull and strong mind (my louing Fiammetta) dispose thy selfe to this, which, (when thou must doo) thou mayst better passe away in dooing it on a suddain, then with successiue feare and lingering sorrow expect eue­ry houre when to begin it.

My teares (at the ende of his perswasion somewhat re­lented) attending some other aunswere, and hearing this so­rowfull discourse, did redouble their falling drops.The maner of those that loue. Where­fore laying my heauy head vppon hys breast I stayed a good whyle without speaking any more vnto him, and reuoluing many things in my mind, I could not assent to hys consola­torie [Page] perswasions nor dissent from his alledged assertions. For (alas) who woulde haue aunswered otherwise to his words, but thus. Doo that which pleaseth thée best, and come quickly againe. Truely I beléeue none. But not wythout great gréefe and effusion of many teares, after a long while I gaue him that aunswere, telling him moreouer, that vn­doubtedly it shoulde be a great wonder to finde mee aliue at his return. After I had spoken these words, one comforting vp the other, we wyped and dryed vppe each others teares, and for that night did deferre them till some other time.

And he (kéeping his olde custome) came to sée mee manie times, which were but a fewe daies (alas) before his depar­ture, much chaunged in habite, and more (as it séemed) alte­red in minde, from that, since first he sawe me. But that wo­full night, (ah that black and thrise cruell night) being come, which was the beginning of all my annoyes, and the last conclusion of all my ioyes, with diuerse and sundrye discourses, but not without great anguish of mind, gréeuous wailings, and Seas of teares, and of sorrowfull sobs & sighes on bothe sides we passed soone away. Which (although for that time of the yéere was very long) yet to mee it séemed the shortest night in all my life time.The description of the day. And now the open day (the mena­cing enemie, and deuider of Louers) began to ouercome the light of the stars, the signe of which (comming on very faste after it) appeared to my eyes, embracing him most straight­ly I sayd thus.

O the swéetest Lorde of my life, what cruell one is hee, that dooth take thée from me. What angry God is y^t, which with so great force doth wreack his ire on mee, that while I liue, it may be sayde. Panphilus is not there where hys Fi­ammetta is. Woe is me therefore poore soule, that knowing not whether thou goest now, shal liue desolate, and destitute of thy company. When will that happy time come, when once againe I shall betwéene my stretched armes enfolde this louely and swéete body. Alas I feare me neuer.

And as I knowe not, so am I not able to expresse that, which my miserable hart diuining, went vppe and downe, [Page 28] saying and lamenting in this sorrowfull sorte. But often times recomforted of him againe, I kissed him infinit times. And after many louing embracements, both of vs very loth to ryse, yet at the last, the encroching light of the newe day compelling vs, vnwillingly wee didde forsake the receptacle and secrete testimonie of our delights. And hee preparing nowe to giue me his last kysses, and farewels, wyth plenti­ous teares I first beganne to vtter these words. Behold my onely loue thou goest, and in short time doost promise thy re­turne.

Wherefore assure mee thy fayth héereof (if so it please thée) so that expecting the same (not accounting for all that thy bare wordes as vayne) I may haue of thy future firme­nesse some liuely hope and pledged comfort. Then he enter­mingling his teares with mine, and hanging about my neck wearied I thinke wyth heauie gréefe of mind, wyth a féeble voice saide thus againe. By illuminate Apollo (swéete La­dy I sweare vnto thée, who wyth most swift pace comming into our hemisphere (contrary to our desires) doth minister a sorrowfull occasion of our suddaine departure, and whose golden beames I doo attende for my gladsome guides: And by that indissoluble loue, which I beare thée, and by that due and forced piety, which doth deuide mee from thée, that foure monethes shall not fully passe, but (if the Gods be gracious to me héerein) thou shalt sée me here returned to thée again. And then taking my right hand in his, he turned himselfe to that side, where he sawe the Images of our Gods hanging, and sayd.

Oh most holy Goddes, coequall and iust gouernours of Heauen and earth, bee present wytnesses of thys my fayth­full promise, and of my inuiolable giuen fayth. And be thou also present (O mightye Loue) the secrete knower of all these thinges.

And thou most stately Chamber, more pleasant to mee then the heauens and diuine habitacles to the Gods, as thou hast béene a secrete wytnes of our desires, so likewise keepe these wordes enclosed in thy Walles, in the leaste of [Page] which (if by my owne fault) I doo faile, let the iust indigna­tion of the angry Gods bee such towardes mee, as Ceres her ire was (in times past) towards Erisichthone, or as Dianas scorne was wrecked vpon gazing Acteon, or such as ielious Iunos enuie appeared towards simple beléeuing Semele.

And when he had so said, with a zealous affection & ear­nest desire he embraced mee, and with a féeble and interrup­ted voice he gaue me his last A dio.

After he had thus taken his leaue, ouercome poore wretch with extreame anguish of minde, and wofull waylinges, I could scarce aunswere him any thing againe, but yet at the last by plaine and maine force, I did fetch these trembling words out of my sadde and heauie minde. Thy assured faith solemnly promised to mee, and sincerely giuen by thy ryght hand to mine, let Iupiter confirme in heauen with y^e effecte, as Isis did the prayers of Teleteuse, and make it so perfecte and entire in earth, as I doo effectually desire, and as y^u doost with sacred oath require. And accompanying him to my Palace gate,The effect of an ena­moured woman. and opening my lips to bidde him farewell, suddainly my words were taken from my tongue, and the light of heauen from mine eyes. And like a ruddy vermilion Rose cut down with sythe in open fields, féeling the parching and contracting heate of the Sunne beames, dooth fall downe amongst the gréene leaues, and léesing by little and little his former colour, doth die: so halfe aliue & dead I fel betwéene my Maydens armes, and not a little while after by her dili­gent care and helpe, who was most faithfull vnto mee, with colde liquors (recalled backe againe to this sorrowful world) I did begin to féele the recouery of my former strength and forces. And hoping that he was yet at the gate, like a fierce Bull, hauing receaued a mortall wounde, furiouslye rouseth himselfe, running and leaping héere & there, so I amazed and lyfting vppe my dimmed eyes, which hadde scarcely yet re­ceiued their perfecte sight, ranne eagerlie vppon my Maide wyth open armes to embrace her, thinking to haue clasped my Panphilus betwéene them, and with a faint and hoarce voyce, broken as it were in a thousand péeces, with incessant [Page 29] wéeping and wayling I sayd. Oh my soule farewell. The mayd helde her peace séeing my errour. But afterwards ha­uing the full féeling of my sences, and perceiuing indéede that I was deceiued, I hardly kept my selfe from falling y^e second time into the like traunce. It was now cleare day in euerie place, when séeing my selfe in my chamber without my Panphilus, and loking round about me, and being ignoraunt (al­most) and astonied for a great while how this might come to passe, I asked my waiting maide, what was become of hym, and she poore soule with lamenting, aunswered. It is a good-while since Madame, that he bringing you hether in his ar­mes, the bright day stealing on,The curio­sitie of loouers. hath by force (and not with­out infinite teares seperated and taken him from you. To whome I sayd againe. And is therefore gone? Alas good Ma­dame, yea sayd she. And yet consequently I asked her againe. With what kinde of countenaunce did he depart. With the most sober, saddest and most sorrowfull looke (sayd she) and like one, who had the picture of gréefe, care, and anguish liue­ly depaynted in his demisse visage. Afterwardes I followed and asked her what kinde of gesture hee did vse, and what wordes he did speake, when he went away. And she aunswe­red. You being good Lady halfe deade betwéene my armes, and your soule wandring (I know not) where, hee got you quickly and softely into his armes, as soone as hee sawe you in so straunge a plight, and seaching vppe and downe with his hand in euery place, if your fainting soule was yet contai­ned in your appaled body, and finding your hart panting, and beating strongly against your tender sides, bewayling and complaning, a thousand times and more, with the secréet vertue (I thinke) of his last kisses he called you backe againe. But when he sawe you still immoueable, and as colde yet as the marble stone, he brought you heather, and doubting of some worse mishappe, wéeping often times, he kissed your pale visage, saying. Oh ye high Gods if there be any harme committed and caused by my departure, let your iust doome light vpon me and not vpon the faultles Ladie: reduce her vagrant soule into her proper place againe, so that of this [Page] last ioye, that dooth remaine, (that is to sée mée at my last de­parture, and to giue her last ambrosial kisses, with her ange­licall voyce once againe saying farewell,) we may receiue a little comfort. But after that he perceiued no féeling in you, as one deuoyde of counsayle in this cause, and ignorant what to doo, laying you softely on the bedde, and like the surginge waues of the Sea (tossed vp and down with stormy windes) wallowe and rushe violently sometimes forward, and immediately with as much force totter backe againe, euen so hée suddainly flynging from you to the chamber doore, espied tho­rowe the windowes the threatning lightsome ayre (enemy to his abode) with hasty spéede to come on. And comming running from thence to you sodainely againe, and still cal­ling and crying on you, reioyning as many swéete kisses, as raining bitter teres vpon your fayre and fainting face. But when he had doone so many times together, and séeing that his stay with you could be no longer, imbracing you, hée sayd. Oh swéetest Ladie and onely hope of my heauy hart, whome now (of force departing from thée) I leaue in doubtfull state of lyfe, the pittifull Gods restore to thée againe thy lost com­fort, & preserue thée so long in life, that we may sée our selues once againe ioyfull and merry togeather, as nowe (depriued of all consolation) this bitter departing dooth deuide vs a sunder. And all the while he spake these wordes, hee did so ex­treamely lament, that the vehement sobbes and sighes, that séemed to cleane the heauens, and his loude plaintes, did of­tentimes strike a great feare into mée, least that they hadde béene not heard of those onely in our house, but of our next neighbours also.

And not permitted now to tarrie any longer, by reason of the cléere brightnesse of the day that more and more came créeping on, with greater aboundaunce of teares then before, hee sayd. Ah my swéete heart farewell, And drawen away as it were by force, hytting his foote a great blowe against the thresholde of the doore,An omi­nous and ill presage. hee went out of our house.

From whence being gonne, (S.T.) hée sayde looking backe, [Page 30] meaning that hée coulde scarce goe forewardes, and still loo­king backe at euerie steppe, thinking that when you came to your selfe agayne, I should call him backe againe to you, She nowe helde her peace.

And I (good Ladyes) as you may imagine, sorrowinge and lamenting for the departure of my deere loouer, remay­ned the most comfortlesse and distressed woman, bewailing with continuall teares his sodayne and vnfortunate ab­sence.

AS you haue heard (gentle La­dyes) before euen in such sorte (my Panphilus being gonne did I remaine, and with manie teares not a fewe daies after I woefully bee­wailed his sorrowfull departure. And there was not anything else in my mouth (although I spake it softlie to my selfe) thē, O my Panphilius, how may it be that thou hast forsaken me? This name truelie, when I remembred the swéet accents of it,Fond thoughts of loouers, amongest my many bitter teares, did yéelde mée no small comfort. There was no parte of my chamber, which I did not with a most desirous eye beholde, saying to my self. Here did my Panphilus sit, héere did he lye, heere did I kisse him: And in bréefe, euery place in the same by representinge such swéete obiects to my memorie, was most déere vnto me. Sometimes I fayned with my selfe, thinking, that (retour­ned backe againe) he came to séeme, and, as if he had béene in­déede, I looked towardes the chamber doore, and perceiuing my selfe deluded with my vaine fancie, I was angrie wyth my selfe, knowing that I was deceiued indéede. And because I would driue away vaine cogitations, I remember that of­ten times I beganne to busie my selfe about many thinges, but ouercome of newe imaginations, and leauing the same vndonne, my miserable hart with an vnaccustomed beating did begin to molest me. I called to my minde many thinges, [Page 31] which I would at his departure haue sayd vnto him, and re­peating also many times with my selfe those wordes, which we had to eache other spoken. And in this manner not set­ling my minde firmely on any thing, I liued many dayes together a most sorrowful and pensiue life. But after that this great gréefe, (conceiued by his departure) by length of tyme was somewhat alleuiated, more forcible and violent though­tes began to enter into my minde, and being lodged there, did with probable and apparant reasons kéepe and defende themselues there. And not many daies after, remaining all alone in my chamber, it came to passe, that I beganne to say to my selfe.

Beholde my loouer is gonne, and is goinge on his weary way, and thou poore soule couldest not at his departure once say, farewell, nor pray the Goddes to be his guides, nor kisse his troubled countenaunce no, not so much as sée him: which thinges if hée kéepe in minde, and if any infortunious acci­dent (which the Goddes forbidde) happen vnto him, coniectu­ring some ominous signe by thy silence,Louers of­ten times blame and excuse thē ­selues a­gaine. may greatly (per­chaunce) blame thée for it. This thought troubled my minde very much at the first, but a new counsell and conceite of o­ther matters remooued it againe from mee, because among my sundry thoughtes, I sayd with my selfe. I ought not to incurre any blame herein, because he being endued with great wisedome, will sooner expound my suddaine extasie for a luc­kie presage, saying. She sayd not farewell, which is common­ly wont to be sayd to them, who meane to absent themselues for a great while, when they depart, or else vtterly to take their leaue, but holding my peace, he will rather thinke with him selfe. that it was a signe, wherby to note that short time assigned for his stay there.

And recomforting my selfe againe with this flattering i­magination, I let it passe, and entred into other new and di­uers thoughts. And being thus beset with sorrowe one eue­rie side, I remained all alone, my heart being wholy pensiue for him, walking sometimes vppe and downe in my solitarie chamber sitting downe now in this place, and now standing [Page] in a muse in that, and other sometimes leaning my heauie head vpon my hand against my bed side, I sayd to my selfe.

Oh that my Panphilus were come hether now againe? And then from these fancyes, I passed into other newe con­ceytes. As sometimes (for example) with great gréefe I cal­led to minde, how with smyting his foote against the thres­holde of the doore, he went out of my chamber, as my trusty waiting woman had tolde mee: And remembring also that Laodameia did gather no greater token of Protesilaus hys long absence, and vnperformed retourne, by no other signe, then by this, it made me many times fal into great and ruth full considerations thereof, fearing least the selfe same thing (which the Goddes graunt not) might as vnfortunatelie be­fall to me. But not conceiuing yet in the depth of my minde, what should happen vnto me indéede, I let these, as vayne and friuolous imaginations passe away, which did neuer the sooner at my will and pleasure departe, but when others comming a freshe in their places, then did these forsake my melancolike minde.

And recounting those now in my minde, that were come, which were so many and so great, that to thinke of their number onely, (if of nothing else) it was no small payne to my poore heart,Troubles & cares are wont to ex­tinguish looue in young men, for I did not once remember (amongest my other thoughtes) that I had reade in Ouide his verses, that troubles, cares, and painefull affaires did driue looue out of younge and tender myndes, but rather, so often, when I re­membred that hée was on his way. And thinking, that these were no small annoyaunces vnto euery one, and especiallie to him, whome I knewe had béene euer accustomed to rest, and acquainted with ease, and nowe most of all, when hee was constrained to them against his will.

Wherfore I dyd first greatly doubt with my selfe, least y^e smallest of these gréefes might not haue bene meanes forcible enough to haue taken him from me, and feared againe, least his vnwoonted trauailes, and the hurtefull and vnseasona­ble weather might haue béene an occasion of sicknesse, or of some worse mischaunce, that might haue hindered his de­seignes, [Page 32] and so hurt my desires. And in this dolefull imagi­nation (I remember my minde was longer busied, then in any other, although that I did often times argue, by the induction of his vnfayned teares, which I did sée trickle downe his chéekes, and of my painefull troubles, which ne­uer chaunged my firmenesse, that it could not bee a true con­clusion, that for so little gréefe, so great loue should be extinct, hoping also, that his young age (mastred with singuler discretion and wisedome) would defend and kéepe him from any o­ther hurtfull accident.

Thus therfore, in opposing, answering & dissoluing my owne obiections, I spent so many daies, that I dyd not onely thinke, that he was now arriued in his countrie, but I was also certified thereof by his letters, which for many causes were most welcome and acceptable vnto me: in the which he certified me, that with greater flames of affection, he burned more in my looue, then euer he did, and with stronger promi­ses did reuiue my hope of his returne. Wherefore my first thoughtes being gonne, from this howre foreward, new fan­cies did quicklie arise in their places.

For sometimes I sayd: Now my Panphilus the onely be­looued sonne of his olde father, who many yéeres before had not séene him) receiued of him with great ioye,They that looue are alwaies in suspition. feasted of all his kinsfolkes, and déerely entertayned of all his fréendes, dooth not onely forget me, but dooth (I thinke) accurse the monethes, daies, and howers, in the which with diuers occasions heretofore my looue hath stayed him here. And honourablie welcomed of all his compeers, and with ioyfull congratulati­on of all Ladyes and Gentlewomen, dooth blame mee (per­happes) who knew not how to féede his dainty fancies in a­nie thing else, then in simple vnfolding my secréete looue, and the straung effects of my new affections vnto him, when he was here. And mindes full of mirth and iollitie, are apte to be drawen from one place, and to be bound to another, according to the mutabilitie of their pleased and displeased fancies. But (alas) may it now be, that I should léese him in this sorte.

Truely I cannot hardly thinke it. The Gods forbidde that this should come to passe: & graunt that as amongst my parentes, and kinsfolkes, and in my own & natiue Citty they haue made, and kept me onely his. So amongst his kindred, and in his natural countrie, let them vouchsafe to preserue him one lie mine.

Alas, with how many salt teares were these wordes mingled, and with how many more should they haue béene, if I had beléeued that, that, which they themselues did truely prognosticate, should afterwardes haue prooued true: albeit that those, which then came not foorth, I haue afterwards in treb­ble folde spent all in vaine. Besides such spéeches (my mind diuining often times of her woes to come) surprised (I know not with what feare) did greatly tremble and quake, which feare was most cōmonly resolued into these stinging thoughtes, and wordes.

Panphilus abidinge now ioyfully in his Cittye, full of most famous and excellēt temples, and by reason of most solemne and high feastes, with excéeding pompe and glory celebrated there, dooth with great pleasure visite them: where he cannot chuse, but finde many fayre and noble women, which, as in surpassing beautie, gallant behauiour, and good graces, they excell all others, so most of them being skilfull practicioners in theyr entising arte, with subtile snares, and amorous al­lectiues are passing cunning to entrappe young and gentle mindes, thereby to drawe them to theyr liking, and so to lure them to their looue. Alas who can then be so strong a gardien of himselfe, where so many motiues doo concurre, but must (mauger his bearde) at sometime or other by plaine force be ouertaken: as I my selfe, not many monthes sithence by like powers also assailed, may be an approoued and haplesse presi­dent of such straung and strong vertues, which in my simple breast preuailed. And besides this, new thinges are wont to delight more then olde. It is therefore but an easie matter, that he (being newly ariued, and a straunger) may please them, and they him againe.

Alas how gréeuous was this imagination to me, the which [Page 33] that it shoulde not come to passe, I coulde scarce driue out of my minde, saying thus. Howe may Panphilus, who loueth thée more then himselfe, receiue into that hart, enclosed in thine, any other newe loue? Why, dost not thou know, that there is héere perhaps some braue Lady well worthy of hys loue, who with greater force, then with that of her eies, hath oft assaide and endeuoured to enter into his hart, but coulde not find any way wherby, he béeing yet scarce thine, as now he is, so many more Goddesses also of beautie passing vppe and downe in this Cittie, and yet not anie one of them able to mooue his minde? Howe canst thou then thinke that hee may bée so soone enamoured as thou sayst? And besides this doost thou beléeue, that he would violate that troth, which so religiouslie he auowed vnto thée for any other faith. It may neuer be, and therfore thou must trust to his fidelity, and re­lie vppon his good discretion. With great reason thou ough­test to think, that he is not so meanelie wise, but y^t he know­eth well enough, that it is but méere folly to leaue y^t, which alreadie he hath, to gette that, which he hath not, yea if that which he would forsake, were but a smal thing, and of great deale lesse account, in respect of that which hee séeketh to at­taine, béeing of greater estimation and value. And of this al­so thou must haue an infallible hope, that this cannot so easi­ly come to passe: because if the great fame and generall re­port of thy beauty be true, which thy selfe hast often hearde, thou mayest (placed amongst the number of the brauest La­dies in his Countrey, and to the fairest of them all parago­ned) be prised aboue the best, which hath not in it anie one richer, brauer, or more nobly borne then thy selfe. And be­sides this, whom can he finde amongst all the Gentlewomē in his Citty, that would, nay that coulde loue him so déerely, as thou doost.

Againe, hee is not ignoraunt (as one expert in amorous affaires) how hard a labour, and intricate a matter it is, so to dispose and worke with any woman, to make her like at the first, or at the first assaults to make her yéeld to loue. And although he did not loue thée at all, yet béeing troubled about [Page] many affaires of his Father, and occupied with his proper busines, he could not nowe bee at vacant leysure to acquaint himselfe with other newe women. Wherefore let not thys onely fall into thy thought, but hold it for an infallible Max­ime, that as much as thou louest, so much thou art beloued againe. Alas how falsly & sophistically were these argumēts coyned against the truth. But with all my disputing, I could neuer refel and put out of my mind the obscure and misera­ble ielosie entred into it for aduantage, and accomplishment of my other gréefes. But yet somewhat lightened (as if I had argued truely) and eased a little therby, I did to my fée­ble power remooue such iniurious thoughts from my mind. O déerest Ladies, because I will not spende the time in re­counting euery one of my vncouth thoughts, what were my most carefull déedes, you shall nowe heare. At the strangnes of which meruaile not, since I must néedes follow, not those which I woulde, but such as it pleased Loue to giue mee, ah those was I constrayned to performe. Very fewe mornings escaped me, when rysen out of my weary bedde, I went not vppe to the highest turrets of my Pallace, and from thence no otherwyse then the Marryners clymbing vp to the topp (of their maine Mast, doo prie on euerie side, to sée if they can espy any dangerous Rocks, or ken any land y^t is nere, which may hinder their continued course.) I first looked about mee on euery side. And afterwards fastning myne eies stedfastly towards the East, I did mark how much y^e Sun, eleuated a­boue the Horison, had spent of the new day, and the more I saw it higher, y^e more I said (to my selfe) that y^e terme of Panphilus his return drew on, and many times I did with great delight as it were, sée it rise & come forth, & discerning some­times my own shadow, by the ascended quantity of it in the Meridiall line, made lesse & lesse, and somtimes loking to the space of his body, made bigger by the earth in his setting, I said with my selfe, y^t hee went more slowly, then euer he did before, and did lengthen the daies more in Capricorne, then he was wont to do in Cancer, and so likewise moūted vp to the middle circle, I saide y^t there he staied too long to delight himselfe [Page 34] in ouerloking the wide earth. And although hee glided down swiftly towards the west, yet me thought he was too long in his course again, whose light after y^t our Hemisphere had lost, & that y^e twinckling stars had ful scope to shew forth theirs, thus partly contented,Louers mark their daies with stones I went numbring & calling to mind many times with my self the daies y^t were past, & with litle stones did mark those with other daies also that were to come, no otherwise thē in times (past deuiding their mery and happy daies from their sorrwful and dismal times with litle black & white stones) were wont to doo. O howe many times do I now remēber, y^t before their due time I did put a stone there, thinking y^t so much of y^e prescribed terme should be diminished, howe much y^e sooner I adioyned it to y^t, which was already past, somtimes counting y^e litle stones assigned for y^e daies past, and somtimes telling those, which stoode for those daies, which were yet to come, although I kept y^e number of euery one of them very wel in my minde (thinking e­uery time to haue found some of thē increased, and that y^e o­ther shold haue béen diminished. So did my eager hote desire transport me to y^e wished end of y^e prefixed terme. Vsing therfore these vain cares, I returned many times to my desolate chamber, more desirous to be there all alone, then willinglie in any cōpany. And when I was alone, to driue away sorowful cogitations, I opened a certain casket of mine, out of the which I tooke many things (somtimes his fauours bestowed on me) by one & one, and y^e delight & great desire, which once I had in beholding him, I did now take in gazing vpō them, which when I had séene, scarce able to containe my swelling teares, yet fetching great sighes, I kissed thē, and as if they had béen rational creatures, & things of vnderstanding, I did aske them saying. When wil your M. be here? & laying thē vp again, I drew forth many of his leters which he had somtimes sent me, & reading almost euery one of them ouer, and imagining y^t I did talke with him, I felt no litle cōfort. I called oftentimes my faithful & secret maid vnto me, with whō I had much and diuers communication touching him, some­times asking her what her hope was of hys returne, and [Page] sometimes what shee thought of him, or if at any time shee had heard any thing of him.

To all which demaundes, eyther to please me, or els ac­cording to her opinion, aunswering the truth, it was a great comfort to my desolate minde. And thus many times I pas­sed away the greater part of the day with lesse gréefe & sad­nes. I tooke no lesse pleasure and content (then in y^e forsaide things) to visit the holy Temples,Variety of talke doth diminish sorrow and sadnes. and to sitte at my Pallace Gate with other Gentlewomen of my acquaintance, where often times with sundrie discourses, my infinite cares were somewhat remooued from mee. To which places sometimes resorting, it fell out often, that I sawe dyuers of those yong Gentlemen, whom I did knowe to kéepe Panphilus compa­nie: and whensoeuer I espied them, I did neuer forgette to looke amongst them, if happilie I might sée Panphilus wyth them, as sometimes I did. O how often times was I vain­ly deluded with this foolish imaginatiō. And although I was thus deceiued, yet it did me much good to sée them, whom (as by their pittifull countenaunces they bewrayed as much) I sawe full of like compassion, that I had, in séeing themselues alone (as it were) and depriued of their swéete companion, and who (me thought) séemed not halfe so merry, as they were wont to be.

Ah what a great desire had I many times to aske them, what was become of their gentle friende and associate, if reason and modesty had not counterchecked my eagre wil here­in. But Fortune truely was sometimes fauourable to mée herein, because in talking of him in such like places, & think­ing that I did not heare and vnderstand them, they said, that his returne was almost at hand: & howe swéete these words were to myne eares, it were a bootelesse labour to expresse. In this sorte therefore, and with such sundry thoughtes and superstitious déedes, and with many other, like these, I dyd studie to passe the tedious daies away, which were so yrke­some to mée in their length, desiring therefore stil for night, not because of bothe I thought it more profitable or comfor­table for me, but because when it was come, there was the [Page 35] more time spent, and the lesse to passe away. After that the combersome day therefore (whose long howers being fini­shed) gaue place to silent night, fresh fancies and new cares came also in company with the same. And I, who from my cradle béeing naturally giuen to bee afraide in the solitarye darknes of night, accompanied nowe with mighty loue,Loue doth assure Lo­uers in darknes, was frée from all manners of feare. And perceiuing euery one in my house to take their quiet rest, sometimes I went vppe a­lone to that place, where I had not long since séene the Sun rysing in the morning, and as Aronces did speculate the ce­lestiall bodies, and their orbiculer motions, betwéene the white Marbles in the hylles of Luca, so did I (the night créeping on with ouerlong minuts, and féeling the great cares, and carefull thoughts to be enemies vnto my wished sléepe) beheld the Heauens from that place, and the swift reuoluti­ons of thē, imagining with my self, that they were wonder­full slow in their course: and sometimes turning mine eyes stedfastly towardes the horned Moone, (hauing recourse to her wayne, and to her roundnes, I perceiued by the increase and decrease of it, some nights to be longer and shorter then other. And so much the more my desire was made more fer­uent, by how much sooner I wyshed, that the foure months by her swéete course had béene brought to an ende. Oh howe many times (although it lent a dimmed and obscure lyght) did I beholde it a great while together with greate delight, imagining that my Panphilus his eyes were then fixed on it as well as mine. Whom for all that I doo not nowe doubt that (I béeing nowe quite out of his memorie) hee didde not once care to looke on the Moone, but not hauing so much as a thought thereof, he did rather at that time of the night, take his rest in his bedde.Louers who expect the returne of their belo­ued, thinke euery houre to be lōger then other,

And I remember, that agréeued at the slownesse of her course, with diuers soundes (following the olde and ancient errors of those many yéeres agoe) I helped her forwarde in her slowe course, to grow to her full roundnes, to the which after that it was come, contented with her perfecte and full light, she cared not (as it séemed) to diminish y^e same againe, [Page] and to returne to her newe hornes, but to remaine still in her rounde forme, albeit with my selfe I helde her excused for the same, estéeming her aboade more fauourable and gratious with her ioyfull Mother, then desirous to returne to the darke kingdoms of her infernall Husband. But I remē ­ber wel, that the deuoute petitions & earnest prayers, which many times I offered vppe vnto her, to accelerate her easie and slowe pace, I turned nowe into threatning spéeches say­ing.

O Phaebe an euill rewarder of thy deuout seruice done vnto thée, with pittifull prayers I labor to lessen thy trauell and wearie iourney, but thou not estéeming thē, with longe and slow tariaunce (iniurious to thy selfe and to mee) doost not care to encrease mine. And therefore if to the necessitye of my helpe, thou dooest not returne more by corned, thou shalt then perceiue me as slow in thy honors and sacrifices, which I meane to offer vp vnto thée, as now I find thée care lesse and slacke in thy duetye to the worlde. Why, doost not thou knowe, that the sooner thou shalt foure times horned, and as manie times rounde, haue shewed thy lights to mor­tall creatures, by so much the sooner my Panphilus shall re­turne to me againe: who béeing once come backe, then as slowe or as swift as thou wilt thou maist runne out thy compasse and circles.

Truely that selfe same madnes, which did induce me to make such prayers, that very same did so bereaue me of my selfe, that it made me sometimes thinke, that she (afraide of my threatnings) made greater haste in her course onely for my pleasure: and other times séeming not to care for me, to be more slow then she was before. This often beholding on her, made me so skilfull in her nature and course, that, when she was in her wayne, or in any part of heauen, or conioy­ned with any starre, I might haue fully iudged and known howe much of the night hadde passed away, and howe much was to come.

Bothe the Beares likewise (if shée had not appeared) did by long experience make me very skilfull and certaine ther­of. [Page 36] Alas who would haue beléeued y^e loue coulde haue taught mée such Astrologie, a science more fitte for finest witts, and profounde iudgments, and not for a troubled mind occupyed wyth his furie.

When the heauens full of darkest clowdes and ouerrun with boysterous and tempestious windes, and choaked with mistie fogges, did from this place take my sight away, some­times (if I had no other matters to busie my self withal) calling my wayting Maydes and Gentlewomen together in my Chamber, I did my selfe tell (and to please my straunge humour) wylled them also to recount diuers tales, y^e which the more they were elonged from the trueth (as for y^e moste parte such kind of people are wont to tell) so much the more (me thought) they hadde greater force to driue away sighes, and to make mee merry, who gaue diligent eare vnto them, so that sometimes, notwithstanding my melancholike fittes, I laughed a pace at them. And if perhappes such fayned iests and inuented tales,To haue company in miserye doth make the greefe the lighter. could not (as true matters) be iustly set downe in diuers fabulous Bookes, yet in serching out of o­thers misteries by them, and applying these with mine, and perceiuing my selfe to haue cōpany in my sorowes, I passed the time away wyth lesse gréefe. Neyther doo I know which of these was most gratious vnto me, to sée the nights passed away and spent, or els (my mynde busied about other thin­ges) to sée the daies runne on and spent.

But after that the foresayde operations, and manye o­ther deuises had occupyed my sences for a good whyle, I went enforcing my selfe (as it were) to sléepe, although I knewe it was but in vayne, and therefore went rather to lye downe to sléepe. And beeing all alone in my bedde, and troubled wyth no rumours and noyse, all those thoughts al­moste: which in the day tyme hadde sursaulted mee, came nowe a freshe to my mynde, and in despight of my selfe made mée wyth manie more arguments pro and con, to re­peate them against my selfe.

And I wold many times haue entred into others, w^t thing [Page] (alas) was not so easilye graunted vnto mee, but yet some­times by very force leauing them, and lying on that side, where sometimes my Panphilus was wont to lye, which place reseruing yet (as it were) a swéete sauour and sent of his body, me thought my drowzie sences therwith reuyued, and my minde greatly contented, I did call him softly wyth my selfe, and (as though he had heard me indéede,) I dydde swéetely pray him, that he would returne quickly againe. I did after imagine,Diuers thoughts of louers. that he was come again, and fayning ma­ny friuolous things with my selfe, by one & one mee thought I did tell them vnto him, and hee demaunding many of mee again, I did answere againe in his place: and sometimes it happened, that carryed away with such foolish thoughtes, I fell at last a sléepe, which was sometimes more pleasant and more welcome to me then any watching & waking, because when I was awake, I did falsely suppose these imaginati­ons with my selfe.

But this, if it had endured but any small time, did make them appeare no otherwise to my fancies, then if they hadde béene true indéede. Sometimes mee thought hee was retur­ned,Dreames represent many times those things which are beloued, and that in most fayre Gardens (frée from all suspicion and feare) decked with gréene leaues, swéete flowers, and diuers kinds of pleasant fruites, I sported and played wyth him as other times we did accustome to doo. And there I holding him by the hande, and hee mee, vnfolding his fortunes good and badde, and telling all his accidents vnto mee, mee thought that many times before hee had perfectly tolde out his tale, with often kissing I didde interrupt him in his de­lightfull discourses. And as if the same hadde béene true in­déede) which but with fained eyes I did contemplate) I said. And is it true (swéete Panphilus) that thou art returned a­gaine? Certes it is. For héere I haue thée. And then I kissed him againe. Mée thought that other times wyth great sol­lace I was walking with him vp and downe the sea banks. And sometimes my imagination was so strong héerein, that I did affyrme it with my selfe saying. Well now I doo not dreame, that I haue him betwéene mine armes. O howe it [Page 37] gréeued me, when it came to passe, that my pleasant drea­mes, and swéete sléepe were both ended, which (going away) did continually carie that away, with them, which without any trouble or gréefe to him, I must néedes confesse did op­presse me. And although that I remained in great melancoly by remembring of thē, liuing neuerthelesse al the next day in good hope, I was somewhat content and eased, desiring still that night would quicklie drawe on, because I might in my sléepe enioy that, which waking I could not attaine to. And although my sléepe did sometimes yéelde mee such néedy fa­uours, notwithstanding it did not permitte mee to receiue such dreames of pleasure, mingled without much bitter and poysoned galle of sorrowe, because many times (me thought) I sawe him apparelled with ragged and forlorne garments, besmeared all ouer (I know not) with what foule and blacke spottes and very pale and fearefull, as though hee had béene pursued of some cruell enemie, with shrikes and outcryes calling to me. Helpe me, Oh my Fiammetta, helpe me. Other tymes (me thought) I hearde diuers talke, and mutter of his death.

And sometimes these fantasies of horror perced so farre into my minde, that (me thought) I sawe him lie dead before me: and in many other vncouth and pittifull formes, so that it neuer came to passe, that my sléepe was of more force, or greater then my gréefe. Wherefore sodainely awaked, and knowing the vanitie of my dreame, as one contented yet but to haue dreamed these terrours and terrible daungers, I thā ked the Goddes,Things sene in dreames are some times true or else figures of true thinges. remaining yet some what troubled in minde and fearing that the thinges, which I had séene, if not in all, in parte at least they had béene true, or else figures of true thinges to come. Neither I was content at any time or per­swaded by the contrarietie of these (although I sayd with my selfe, and heard of others that dreames were but vaine) vn­till I did heare some newes of him, of the which I beganne now carefully and warely to enquier after. And in such sorte (as you haue heard fayre Ladyes) I passed away the tedious dayes and irkesome nightes, attending one still after other [Page] in their long course. But y^e trueth is that the time of hys pro­mised returne approching, I déemed it the best, and safest counsell to lyue merely in the meane time: by which mea­nes, my beautie (a little altered and decayed by reason of this long vnacquainted gréefe) might returne againe into her proper place, because at his arriuall, I might not séeme ill fauo­red and not gratious in his sight, and so might not (perhaps) please his deinty and curious eyes.

Which was not harde for mée to doo, because being since his departure, accustomed and well acquainted with sor­rowes, it made mée endure and passe them away with verie little trouble or no payne at all. And besides this, the néere hope of his promysed returne made mée euery day féele a lit­tle more ioye, and content of mynde. Wherefore I beganne to frequent to feastes againe, not a little while before inter­mitted of mée, ascribing the occasion thereof to my obscured and clowdie dayes, perceauing nowe the cléere and newe times to be at hand.

Nor no sooner dyd my mynde (contracted earst with most bitter and pynching gréefes) beginne to dilate and enlarge it selfe in such a pleasaunt and ioyfull life, but I became fayrer then euer I was before. And I trimmed vppe my gorgeous and rich vestures, & made my precious ornaments fayrer, no otherwise then a valiaunt Knight at armes dooth cleare and make bright his Compleate Harnesse, challenged to some worthye and famous combatte, because I myght seeme more statelie and brauelie attyred with them at hys returne, the whych (as after it fell out) in vayne I dyd attend. As then therefore these actions were chaunged into an other ten­nour, so dyd my thoughtes also chaung theyr coppie.

Vaine thoughts of loouers.It came neuer nowe into my minde, that I coulde not sée hym, when hée departed, nor the remembraunce of the sorrowfull signe of hys smytten foote agaynst the doore, nor any thought of stynging and enuious iealousie, nor hys susteyned troubles, nor my suffered toyles, nor his daungers, nor my dollours did now molest my peace, but rather dayes [Page 38] next before the ende of hys promysed returne I sayd to my selfe. Nowe it dooth gréeue my Panphilus to bée long from mée, and perceiuing hys time néere according to his promise, dooth make short preparation and hast for his spéedy returne. And now perhappes hauing left his olde father, he is on his waie.

Oh howe pleasaunt were these wordes vnto me, and how often dyd I most swéetly deskant vpon this note, thinkinge many times with my selfe, with what kinde of most loouing entertainement, gratious gesture, and swéete and fréendlie shewes, I might at the fyrst represent my selfe vnto his per­sonne, and welcome him. Alas howe many times sayde I to my selfe.

At his returne he shall be more then a thousand times im­braced of me, and my zealous kisses shalbe multiplied in such store, that they shall not suffer one right and perfect word to come out of his mouth, and I will make restitution of them a hundred times redubled, which at his departure (without receiuing on his parte any againe,) he gaue to my pale and halfe deade visage. And in these kinde of thoughtes, I doub­ted many times with my selfe, that I could not bridle that burning and feruent desyre, that I should then haue at the first sight of hym to embrace hym, if I did (perhappes) sée him in open an publique companie.

But the vngentle Goddes (as you shall hereafter per­ceiue) found out a sorrowfull meanes, which perswaded no feare, doubte or mistrust of the due performaunce of any such circumstaunces, and ceremonies, denying mée the chéefest thinge in déede. Remayning therefore continually in my chamber, and as often as any body came into the same, so often dyd I beléeue that they were come to bring mée ty­dinges, that hee was comming, or else to tell mée that hee was alreadie arriued. I neuer heard any talke in any pub­lyque and pryuate place, but with open and attentiue eares I noted it well, thinking that eyther they did or else should speake of his returne.

And sitting in my chamber I rose (I thinke) a thousand times out of my place to runne to the windowe, as though I had béene busied about something else, & looking from thence a farre of, and beneath also at the doore (driuen on by the sug­gestion of a foolishe conceite, and fonde beléefe of his béeing néere) I sayd.

Is it possible Fiammetta that Panphilus being now returned dooth come to sée thée? And afterwardes finding my mind illuded, confounded with my selfe, I went to my place a­gaine. And saying, that at his returne hee should bring cer­taine thinges to my hushande, I did often times aske, and caused many to enquier, if he was arriued, or when his fréendes in these partes did looke for him. But receiuing no ioyful aunswer of my diligent and carefull enquiries, but onely such an one, as of him that should neuer come any more (as afterwardes indéede he did not) caused mee to liue in a most sorrowfull and solitarie plight. Wherefore wrapped (most pittifull Ladies) in these cares, as you haue heard, I came not onely to the greatly desired and (with infinite payne) ex­pected terme, but I passed it also many, daies after in great and gréeuous woes. And vncertaine with my selfe whether I should blame him or not, my hope beganne by little and little to relent.

Wherfore I partly left of my former and pleasant imagi­nations, into the which (giuing perhappes my mind to great a scope) I had entred to farre. And new thoughtes nowe (the olde being gonne) beganne to tosse and turmoyle my soule a freshe, and holding my minde (in diuers doubtes and perplexities) to know what was the occasion of his tariaunce longer then he promised, I beganne to excogitate many things care­fully with my selfe.They feele incredible passiōs, who after the and of their promised time, se not the returne of their be­ [...]ooued. And before many other doubts that were obiected to my minde, I found many thinges so ready in hys excuse, and many more then he him selfe (if he had bene here) could haue perhappes alleadged. Sometimes I sayd. Oh Fi­ammetta what reason dooth make thée thinke, that thy Pan­philus dooth stay without returning to thée, but because he cannot: diuers sodaine chaunces and vnexspected affayres [Page 39] doo many times hinder forward men in their determinati­ons, and doo quite dissolue their disseignmentes. Nor is it possible to prescribe so precise a time to future thinges, as many vnwisely beléeue. And who dooth doubt also, that pre­sent, néere, auncient and dutifull pietie dooth not binde more, then that which is absent, straung, new, and but méere volentrarie? I know it very certaine, that he looueth me most of al, and dooth now thinke of my sorrowful life, and hath no small compassion of my paines.

And pricked on by force of loue, is many times in hand and most willing to set forwardes, and to come vnto me. But the olde doterd (his iniurious father) with his teares (perhappes) and prayers, hath somewhat more prolonged his appointed time, and opposing his commaundementes, to his forwarde will, hath retayned him still there. Wherefore as soone as fit oportunitie is aunswerable to his desirous minde) hee will come to me againe. But after these spéeches and fréendly ex­cuses, my thronging thoughts did driue me on farther to i­magine more straung, vnluckie, and more gréeuous occur­rauntes. Sometimes I sayd.

Who can tell, if he more wilfull (then his due looue requi­red) to sée me againe, and too precise to come iust at the ende of his appointed moneth, laying a side the great pittie of hys aged father, and neglecting all other busines, hath embar­qued him selfe in some slender vessell, not attending y^e calmes of the tempestuous waues (and crediting to much deceitfull and lying Mariners, who for their gaine are too aduentu­rous and desperate of their owne liues, and too prodigall of those of their passengers, and hauing committed him selfe to the rage of the mercilesse windes, and surging waues of the daungerous Seas) is perhappes drowned and perished in them. Vnfortunate Leander by no other occasion, and la­mentable meanes then these, was taken from hys happe­lesse Heroe. Againe who knoweth, if constrained by hys froward fates, and fortune, he is throwen vpon some vnha­bitable and desert rocke, and escaping daunger and death by water, in exchaung of that, hath gotten a worse by famine or [Page] rauening foules, or else lefte vppon any rocke by forgetful­nesse (as Achimenedes was) dooth in vayne attend that some shold come, or by chaunce touch by, to fetch him from thence. For who is ignoraunt how full of deceytes the lawlesse seas are?

For it may be also that he is taken by enemies, or with gi­ues by wicked Pyrattes bound fast and kept in prison. All which perrilles as they are common, so doo we daily sée them come to passe. But on the other, side afterwardes it came to my minde, that his iourney was more safe by land, yet I did imagine likewyse of a thousand sinistrous chaun­ches that might hinder and stay him aswell that way. Wherfore iudging that he might (when such inopinate and vnluc­kie hazardes of fortune came sodainely, and soonest obiected to my minde (finde the more iust and better excuse, as he did alleadge the greater and worser daungers) some times I sayd.

The effect of the Sun in the spring timeBeholde the Sunne whotter then it was wont to be, dooth dissolue the huge hilles of Snowe congealed in the middle region of the Ayre, whereupon with furious and flowinge streame they came powring downe into the plaines, of the which he hath not a fewe to passe ouer. Wherefore if nowe with more audatious rashnesse thē aduised reason, he hath aduentured to passe ouer them, & with his horse is fallen into any of them, and stifled there amongst them, hath miserablie lost his lyfe, why, how can he then come. Floodes haue not learned of late, neyther is it a straunge thing to them, with these iniuries to molest trauaylers, and cruellie to swallowe vp vnawares, those that passe ouer them. But if he hath happily escaped these vnhappy daungers, he may be perchaunce fallen into the handes of some pittilesse théeues, and (despoy­led of all that he hath,) is perforce kept, and without hope of redemption stayed of them.

Or else paraduenture may be ouertaken by some mala­die in the way, where now he abydeth for y^e recouerie of hys health, and after he is well agayne, will without fayle come [Page 40] iyofully to vs. Whyle these carefull imaginatyons occupyed thus my perplexed minde, a lyttle colde sweate did ouer­runne all my bodie, and I was so greatly afrayde of the e­uent of these vncertaine dangers, and so strongly perswaded of theyr trueth, that I turned my breake brayne thoughts, into pittifull prayers to the deuine powers, that they would take the same from mée, apprehending them so forciblie in my mynde, and no more nor lesse, then if before mine eyes, I had séene his imminent daunger, and instaunt death. And sometimes I remember that with fyrme beléefe I beway­led hys woefull ende, as if I hadde séene any of these intellec­tuall aduersyties indéede.

But afterwardes I sayd to my selfe. Alas what straunge causes are these which my miserable thoughtes cast before my eyes. The Goddes forbydde that any such may befall. Let him stay still, and as long as pleaseth hym, and let hym rather (then to content mee, or to offer hym selfe to any daungerous ieopardie, whych may chaunce indéede, though nowe they doo but delude my troubled wyttes) not returne, nor sée mée at all.

All which perilles (though they are indéede possible) yet are they impossible to bée kept close, béeing most lyke that the vntimely and violente death of so noble and famous a younge Gentleman as hée is, cannot longe bée hydden, and concealed especiallie from mée, of whose estate and wel­fare I doo carefully cause, and with secrete and subtyle inuestigations doo continually procure dillygent enquirie to bée made.

And who dooth doubte moreouer if that any of these sup­posed perrilles were true, but that flying Fame,Fame a swifte reporter of ill thinges, the swift reporter of ill newes would haue long since brought the maner of hys death hether?

By meanes of whych fortune (but my least freende in thys) would haue giuen mée an open waie, to haue made mee the most sadde and most sorrowfull woman, that might be.

Wherefore I rather beléeue, that he remaineth in as great gréefe, as I am in, if that his most willinge returne is forbidden onely by the heauy commaundementes of his fa­ther, and therefore he will come quickly or else excusing hys staying so long, will for my great comfort write to me the oc­casion thereof.

Truely (the foresayd thoughts) although they did fiercely assault mee, yet were they easily enough ouercome, and the hope, which by the terme determined was enforced to flie from me, with all my power I did retaine, laying downe be­fore it the long and feruent looue, which he bare vnto me, and I to him, his pawned fayth, the adiured and sacred Goddes, and his infinite teares, in which thinges I did affirme, and thinke it impossible, that any deceite or guile might be hid­den. But yet I could not so rule my sorrowfull minde, but that this hope, thus forcibly kept, must néedes giue place to many vagrant and vaine thoughtes, that were yet left bée­hinde, which driuing hereby little and little out of my woe­full brest, did worke amayne to returne to theyr former places, reducing eftsoones to my minde diuers prodigious sig­nes and tokens, and many other vnfortunate accidents. And I did scarcely perceiue, y^e peaceable hope being almost quite expelled out of my heart, but I did immediately féele theyr mighty and new forces planted in her place. But amongst all other murdering thoughtes, that did most of all massacre my gréeuous soule (hearing nothing at all in processe of manie dayes, of my Panphilus his returne) was sharpe and stinging iealousie. Ah this spitefully galled and wounded my breast more, then I was able to endure. This did dissanull all ex­cuses, which I had made for him) as knowing and consen­ting to the occasion of his absent déedes. This did often times induce me to those spéeches condemned of me before, saying.

Alas how art thou so foolishe to beléeue, that eyther the looue of his father, vrgent affayres, or delightfull pleasures, maie now kéepe Panphilus from comming hether, if he did looue thée so as once he sayd he dyd.

Dost not thou know that Loue doth ouercome all thynges,Loue doth ouercome all things for he hath (feruently (perhaps) enamoured of some other Gentlewoman) quite forgotten thée, whose pleasures béeing as forcible as new, doo hide and hold him there, as somtimes thine did kéepe him here.

Those foresaid Ladies passing gracious in euery thing they doo, and (as y^u saydst) in euery poynt moste apt to loue, and with braue allurements endeuouring to bee beloued a­gaine (hee himselfe béeing likewise by the delicate purenesse of his cléere complexion, naturally inclined to such passions, and for many rare and commendable qualities in him most worthy to be beloued) applying their whole studyes to hys seruice, theyr paynes to his pleasures, and hee his desires to their deuotions, haue made him become a new Innamorato. Art thou so assotted with the fame and glory of thine owne beauty, that thou doost not beléeue that other Women haue shyning eyes in theyr heads, fayrnes in theyr faces, and that they are not as full of courtly behauiour & good graces, and all things els, that may commaunde yong mens mindes, as well as thou art? And dost thou thinke that they are not so skilfull (who are (alas) a greate deale more then euer thou werte) in these amorous attempts as thou art? Why thou art deceiued. And if this be thy beléefe it is false. And dooste not likewise beléeue that he on the otherside can please more then one Woman? But yet I thinke, that if hee coulde but sée thée, it would bee a harde thing for him to loue any other. But since he cannot sée thée, nor hath not séene thée these ma­ny monethes, how canst y^u déeme otherwise then so? Thou must néedes knowe, that no worldly accident is permanent and eternall, for as he was enamored of thée, & as thou didst please him, so is it possible that another may like him, and he (abandoning thy loue) may affectionate some other.New things alwaies please For newe things are euer wont to please a great deale more thē those which are daily séene. And euery one dooth with grea­ter affection desire, that which hee hath not, then that which he hath already in his owne possession.

Againe, there is nothing, be it neuer so delightful, which [Page] by long time enioying & vsing the same, doth not ware yrke­some at last, and of lesse (if of none) account at all. Who wyll not moreouer sooner, and more willingly loue a faire & new Ladie at his owne house, then one whom he hath long since serued in a forraine Countrey, and vnknown place: He did not also loue thée (perhappes) with so feruent and zealous af­fection, as he made thée beléeue. And neyther his teares, nor any of his passions were to bee helde so déere, and so sure a pledge of such great loue, as he did still affyrme, and as thou didst thinke that he did beare thée. Many men also depart­ing from their beloued, are tormented with anguish, & gréefe of mind, with bitter waylings, taking their wofull congies, swearing déepely, and promising many things profoundlie, which with a good and firme intent (perhaps they meane to performe, but some suddaine and newe chaunce controling the same, is an occasion to make them forget al their former oathes and protestations.

The teares, oathes and promises of yong Men, are not nowe, and of late become arres and pledges of ensuing de­ceits for simple and credulous Women. They are general­ly more skilfull and more apt to know all these things, then in knowing how to loue, such is their vagabond willes, lea­ding thē to these inconueniences. And there is not anie of thē who would not sooner change tenne Women euery month, then to adhere and kéepe himselfe tenne monethes onely to one. These continually beléeue to finde out some newe cu­stomes, formes and deuises, and do greatly glory to haue had the loue (ah the spoyle) of many Women. What doost thou therefore hope for? Wherefore doost thou suffer thy selfe to bee abused with vaine & false beléefe? And yet (Fiammetta) though thou knowst not the meanes, & art not able to with­draw him from this, yet continue thou still in louing him: and shewe, that with that arte, that hee hath betrayed thee, thou hast not deceiued him.

And manie other words followed these, which did kindle me with fierce & burning anger, and which did with a moste timorous heate so enflame my minde, that it brought mee al­most [Page 42] to vnbeséeming furious and franticke actions. Nor the confected rage did first passe away, before the infinite teares (bursting it a sunder) did most aboūdātly issue out of my watry eyes, which were accompanied also (the same neuerthe­lesse remayning somtimes with me a good while) with great and gréeuous sighes, that came smoaking out of my smothe­red hart, (which to comforte and chéere vp my selfe agayne) condemning that, which my presaging minde did foretell me of, by maine force as it were, the well nighe loste and fugi­tiue hope, with most vaine reasons did returne againe. And in this sort recouering almost againe all the ioy, that whi­lome had left mee, I liued many dayes betwéene hope and dispaire, béeing alwaies carefull, and beyond all measure de­sirous to knowe exactlie what was become of him that came not.

MY teares (pittiful La­dies) haue béene but light hether­to, and my sighes pleasant in re­spect of those, which my sorowfull tongue (not so prest to write thē, as my hart so prone to féele them) doth now prepare to sette downe before you. And truly if y^e paines which I haue passed hetherto, are well considered, they may be rather termed dalliaunces of a yong and wanton gentlewoman, then woes of a tormented Louer. Arme your minds therefore wyth firmenes, and pa­tience, and let not my promises so make you afraid, that (the thinges which are paste, séeming gréeuous vnto you) you would not be desirous to heare the sequelles, which are full of more sorrow, and greater gréefe. And I care not (gentle Ladyes) to comfort you anie whitt in these sad reportes, be­cause you might take the more pittie of mee, and the more, by howe much knowing his malice the greater, by whose impyetie all these sorrowes did fall vppon me, you might be more warye, and lesse wylfull in committing your fond dis­positions to yong Mens fléeting discretions, and in putting your trusty hope into their trothles hands. And so in talking with you, I shall (perhappes) oblige my selfe vnto you, and [Page 43] in counselling you make my selfe vnbound, or els admoni­shing you by these perplexed accidents (allotted and befallen to me) I shall helpe, if not heale your amorous maladies. I saie therefore (good Ladies) that with such diuers imagina­tions (which you haue a little before comprised by my dys­course) I was continually molested, when after more then a month past of his promised return, I heard certain newes on a day of my beloued yong Gentleman: and thus it was. That going with a deuoute mind on a day to visit the sacred and religious places, and to offer vp to the Godds some ory­sons for the release of my harde mishappes, that, restoring Panphilus to me again, or els driuing him vtterly out of my minde. I might recouer my banished comforte. It came to passe, that béeing in companie with manie wise and discrete Ladies, (some néerely allyed to me by blood and affinity, and others conioyned to me by auncient familiaritie) sette vpon pleasant discourses, and in merry vaines, there arriued by chaunce a Merchant, who, no otherwise then Vlisses & Dio­medes did to Deidamia, beganne to shewe foorth his gems and precious Iewels, and such especially as he thought most fine, and fitting best the daintie mindes of such yong and cu­rious Gentlewomen.

Who also (as I gathered by his spéech, and he béeing also demaunded of one of the companie,) saith that he was an in­habiter of that Cittie, where my Panphilus was borne, and dwelled. But after hauing shown manie of his knacks, and some of them bought of the Gentlewomen, others prised and giuen him againe, they entred into pleasant and merrie talke amongst themselues, and whilst he did looke for his money, one of them, who was of a yong and florishing age, of a most beautifull countenance, and of noble blood, commended of manie for her rare qualities, and of moste for her courtlie and nice behauiour, and the very selfe same Gentlewoman, who had asked him before, what hee was, and from whence he came, demaunded of him againe, if hee had euer knowne one Signor Panphilo his countriman. Oh howe much with these and many other demaunds, did she please my humors, [Page] and fulfill my like desires. I was insooth greatlie gladde that they fell into such talke, and did most willingly lift vppe my eares to heare the arguing of them bothe, but especiallye to know the effect of his aunswers, who without delay said.

And who is he that doth know him better then I doo? To whom she said again, striuing (as it were) and importunat­ly forcing her selfe, to knowe what was become of him. And where he is nowe? Oh (saide the Merchaunt) it is a whyle since his Father (hauing no more Children but him) called him home vnto him: whom the yong Gentlewoman yet as­king againe. How long is it since thou knewest any certaine newes of him? Truely (said hee) neuer since I came from thence, which is not yet (I thinke) full fiftéene daies. Shee continued still enquiring and said. And how dooth he nowe? Very well said he (it séemes) for the verye same day that I came from thence, I sawe a most fayre yong Gentlewoman with great solemnitie, feast, and ioy, enter into his house, which (as I partly vnderstoode) was newly married vnto him.

Whilst the Merchant was speaking these nipping words, although I gaue a dolefull eare vnto them, yet I stared the inquisitiue yong Gentlewoman stedfastly in the face, mar­uayling with my selfe, and imagining greatly in my minde, what the occasiō might be, that should mooue her to examine such straight perticulers and interrogatories of his estate. Whome I woulde before this time haue beléeued, that no o­ther woman but my selfe, had scarce knowne. For I percei­ued, as soone as the sorrowfull wordes (that Panphilus was maried) came to her eares, that casting her eyes down, there appeared in her chéekes a red, and hote coloure, and that her prompt and ready wordes dyed presently in her mouth, and by as much as I coulde perceiue, with the greatest paine in the world she stayed her teares, (ascended already vppe into her eyes) from trickling downe her chéekes. But I (especi­ally desiring the same) oppressed with sursaults of vnspeak­able gréefe, and suddainly after assailed with an other as for­cible and as great (ielosie I meane) I scarcely staid my selfe [Page 44] with moste vile and scolding tearmes, frō reprehending her altered countenaunce, and disturbed sences, as one greeued at the very hart, that she should showe towardes Panphilus such manifest tokens of Loue, greatly fearing thereby, that she shad (perhaps) (as well as I) some iuste occasion to bee discontented with the report of these bitter newes. But yet I moderated my selfe, and with great paine and fretting an­guish of mind (the like I think was neuer heard of,) I brid­led and kept still my troubled and irefull harte, vnder a mo­dest and vnchaunged countenaunce, though more desirous to complaine & bewaile, then to harken any further after such heauie newes, or to sée such apparant and wounding signes of corriuallitie.

But the yong Gentlewoman, perhaps with that same forced courage and strength, forcibly retayning her greefe within her like my selfe, and passed it away, as thoughe it had not béen shée, who was before so much troubled in mind and in face, and shewing a semblaunce that she beléeued hys words, the more she asked, the more she founde his answers contrary to her desires, and alas most repugnaunt to myne. Whereupon, leauing the Merchant, of whom so instantlye she had demaunded newes, and disguising her sadnes with a vysard of fayned myrth, we stayed longer together, (then I woulde) talking diuersly of this & that. But after our talke began to grow to an ende, euery one went away, and I my selfe with a soule fraught full of anger and anguish, fretting within my selfe, no otherwise then y^e enraged Lyon of Libia after he hath discouered the Hunter and his toyles, my face burning sometimes by the way as redde as fire, and some­times wexing suddainly pale againe, somtimes with a slow pace, and sometimes againe with a hastie gate, and broade steps, more then womanly modestie did require, sorrowful­ly returned to my sorrowfull lodging. Where, after that it was lawfull for me béeing all alone, to doo what I woulde, and entred nowe into my Chamber,Passions of ielosie. I began moste bitterly to lament. And when a good while together my infinite teares had washed away a good part of my gréefe, my spéech [Page] beeing come to me more franckly then before, with a faynt and féeble voice I began to lament, saying.

Nowe doost thou know the occasion, so greatly desired of thee, of his vniust stay? Nowe doost thou knowe (miserable Fiammetta) why thy Panphilus dooth not returne to thée a­gaine? Nowe hast thou founde out that, which so seriouslye thou didst serche out? What doost thou then desire to seeke more, miserable wretch as thou art? what dost thou demand more? Let thys suffice thée. Panphilus is no more thine. Cast away nowe thy flattering hope for euer séeing hym a­gaine, and thy desires to haue him euer any more. Abandon thy bootlesse teares, lay downe thy feruent loue, and leaue of all foolish and vaine thoughts. Beléeue from henceforth di­uine presages, and credite hereafter thine owne diuining minde. And nowe beginne to knowe (though too late) the periuries and deceits of yong men.

Thou art come iust to that miserable point, whereto o­ther sillie women (trusting too much like thy selfe) haue al­readie arriued. And with these wordes I rekindled my in­censed rage, and reinforced my gréeuous lamentations. And afterwards with most fierce words I began to speake thus.

Blasphemes of those that be ie­l [...]ous.Oh ye Gods, where are you now? where doo your iuste eyes nowe behold? where is nowe your due anger? where­fore doth it not fal vppon the contemner and scorner of your myght? O mightie Iupiter whose diuine Godheadde canne brooke no wicked periuries, and yet is by an execrable impeforsworne, what doo thy thunderbolts, and where dooest thou nowe bestowe them? who hath most iustly nowe deserued them? Wherefore are they not cast vppon that most irreli­gious and perfidus man, to terrifie others by his perpetu­all fal, not to forsweare thy holy name. Oh illuminate Phae­bus, where are nowe thy Dartes, with mortall steeles, of which fierce Python (in respect of him, who so falslye called thée to witnes of his detested trecherie and déepe deceits) did so yll deserue to be pricked. Depriue him of the comfortable light of thy shyning beames, and become his pursuing ene­mie, no otherwise then thou shewedst thy selfe to myserable [Page 45] Oedipus, O ye other Goddes and Goddesses whatsoeuer: and thou mighty looue, whose celestial power this false louer hath mocked, why doo you not shew your force, and power the condigne wrath vpon his guiltie head? Why doo yée not turne heauen and earth, and all the cruell fates and the infernall sisters against this newe bridegroome, that in the world for a notable example of a detestable deceiuer, and for a wicked violatour of your righteous lawes, & despiser of your might, he may not suruiue any longer to laughe and flowte you to scorne?

Many lesse faultes then this haue procured your heauie indignatiō not to so iust a reuenge as this: Wherfore then do you delay it? you are not scarce able to be so cruell towardes him, that he might for his heinous offence be duely punished Alas poore wretche, wherefore is it not possible, that your selues iniured also, should not féele the effectes of his fraudu­lent dealinges, as well as I, so that the irefull heate of his deserued punition, should be as well kindled in your reuen­ging brestes, as in my iniured hart. Oh Goddes throwe all those daungers downe, or else turne some of those least pla­gues vpon his hateful heade, of the which I did of late doubt. Kill him with any cruell kinde of death, that pleaseth you best, because I might in one hower féele my totall and finall gréefe, that I should euer after haue sustained for him, and so reuenge your selues and me at once.

Doo not partially consent, that I alone should bewaile the gréefe of his vile offences, and that he, hauing mocked bothe you and me, shold merely reioyce and desport him selfe with his new spouse. But incensed afterwardes with lesse anger, and yet prouoked with more fierce and sharpe complaintes, comming to Panphilus, I remember that I beganne thus to saye.

O Panphilus nowe I knowe the cause of thy stayinge there. Now are thy deceites most manifest vnto me. Now doo I sée what kinde of looue dooth holde thée backe, and what pittie dooth kéepe thée there. Thou doost now celebrate the vnhallo­wed Himens, and espousall rightes (nay wronges,) and I [Page] poore soule, enchaunted with the pittifull charmes of thy faire tongue, and with thy Crocadile tears deceiued) doo now consume and wast my selfe away with mourning and lamenting, making with my floddes of teares, an open way to my spéedy death, which with ignominious titles of thy crueltie and homicide shall quickly ensue.

And these pleasaunt yéeres, which I desired so much to pro­long shall be now cut of by thy vniust occasion. Oh wicked man and worker of my woes, tell mée nowe with what hart thou hast entertained thy new spouse, with intent to be guyle her, as thou hast doone to mée? With what eies didest thou beholde her? With those eyes that thou didest entrappe mée (most miserable and credulous woman?) What fayth didest thou promise her, that which thou didest so solemnelie sweare to mée to kéepe vncorrupted:The thing that is once bound for euer can be bound no more. why, howe couldest thou doo it. Doost thou not remember that the thing, which is once bound, cannot be boūd any more then once: what Gods didest thou adiure? Ah, what periured Goddes? Alas miserable wo­man, I know not what Sirene slights, and Cercian pleasures haue so bewitched thée, that (in knowing thyselfe to be mine) thou shouldest tranforme thy selfe into so wicked a minde, and sincke into the deceitfull gulfe of thy pleasing fantasies. For what faulte (alas) did I deserue to be so smallie regarded of thée? Whether is the great looue betwéene vs so sodainely flowen away.

Alas what wicked fortune dooth so miserably corrcte and oppresse dolefull creatures? Thou hast nowe committed thy promised fidelitie to the windes, and thy fayth also of thy right hand giuen me to the same, y^e periured Gods, by whose sacred Godheades, with great desire or shewe thereof, thou didest sweare to returne, and thy flattering wordes, where­with thou wert very well stored, and thy fained and forced teares, w^t which thou didst not only hath thy chéekes, but also mine, all these (I say) lightly and rudely heaped one vpon an other, thou hast rashly committed to the carelesse windes. And now scornefully deriding me, thou lyuest merrily with thy nowe mistresse.

Alas who would haue euer béeléeued, that such vile and bit­ter gall, had béene hidden in thy hunnied and flattering spée­ches, and such accursed disloyaltie in thy vnsuspected dealin­ges? or would haue euer imagined, that thy teares had béene with such deceiteful arte sent foorth, Certes not I.How need­full it is to be merie trusting lo­uers words. But rather as thou didest séeme faythfully to speake them, and no lesse sincerelie to lament, so I did with assured integrity giue cre­dite to thy wordes and teares.

And if peraduenture thou wilt affirme the contrarie, and say, that thy teares were true, thy othes simply protested, and thy faith giuen with a pure and vpright hart, let it be graun­ted: But what séemely excuse wilt thou alleadge, for not per­forming them so entirely, as thou didst promise. Wilt thou saie that the entising beautie of thy new Ladie is the occasi­on thereof. Why, this wilbe but a weake reason, and a manifest note of thy inconstant minde. And shall this be besides a sufficient satisfaction for my losse? Alas no. The sinne is not pardoned vnlesse the thing, which is taken away, be restored, againe. O most wicked man was not the feruent looue, which I bare thée sufficiently knowen vnto thée, and yet (woe is me therefore) doo still beare thée against my will? Alas yes. Thou didst not therefore néede so great skill, and such subtile wit to deceiue mée.

But because thou wouldest shewe thy selfe cunning in the highest degrée, thou didest therefore vse all possible arte, and malice in thy filed spéeches. But boast not (Panphilus) of thy braue victorie, & goodlie conquest, that thou hast got, in de­ceiuing a simple and young woman, and her especially who did put so great trust in thée. My simplicitie did merite grea­ter sincerenesse, then thine was. But what? I beléeued the reuerende Goddes no lesse inuoked by thée then thy owne selfe.

The which with bended knees, and bowed heart, I pray that they would make this thy greatest part of thy eternall fame, to haue deceiued a young Gentlewoman, who looued thée more then her selfe.

It is a great shame to deceiue a young wo­man that looueth [...]uely.Ah Panphilus, tell me nowe did I euer worke any thing a­gainst thy mind, or was I at any time so oppugnāt to the fée­ding of thy humors, wherby I deserued so stily to be affrōted, and so iniuriously to be betrayed? I neuer committed in sooth any other faulte, against thée (if this be a fault) but when I did so foolishlye enamour my selfe of thée, and did beare thée (more then was due) so great fayth and exteame looue. But this offence did not deserue such accursed pennaunce in thy cruel conceite. In one thing onely (I know) I haue too much fayled for dooing of which, I haue iustly deserued y^e anger of the Goddes: and this was, to receiue thée (wicked man and vile monster) into my chast and then vndefiled bedde, and in suffering thy naked side to lye so néere to mine. Admit that I was not (as they themselues did well perceiue and say) but thou especially wert culpable of this crime, who with thy bolde subtiltie and cunning practyses, surprising mée alone, and fast a sléepe in the darke and silent night (as one, who at other times was accustomed to deceiue me) first taking mee softlie in thy armes, my deare honour and vnstayned ho­nesty being almost violated, before I was thorowlie awa­ked, what could I doo then (alas) when I perceiued this. Should I haue cryed out, and with my bootlesse clamours, haue blotted my vndoubted vertue with perpetuall infamy, and for thée Panphilus whome I euer looued more then my selfe, procured a certaine and sodaine death.

I striued apace (the Goddes knowe) and with my feminine forces (as much as I could) resisted thy eger will, which (not able to controule) béeing ouercome, and my selfe wearied, thou didst enioy thy gréedie praie.

O that, that blacke day, which did in course bring on this damned and wicked night, had béene my last to haue en­ded in the same my vertuous and vnspotted lyfe, with an ho­nest and patient death.How deerely honesty ought to be esteemed. Oh how many bitter gréefs and what griping corsiues wyll assayle mée from hence forth: and thou with thy Wedded wife, wilt (for thy owne pastime and to delyght her) by one and one vnrip thy olde looues, & make mee (myserable woman) culpable in manie matters, abasing [Page 47] my beautyes to commende and flatter hers, and discommen­ding my quallities, to sette hers foorth the more. Bothe which, and all thinges else in mée, were with highe prayse wonte to bée extolled of thee, aboue all other womens in the world.

And all those vnspeakeable fauours, which compelled by méere pittie and extreame looue, I dyd so gently bestowe on thée) thou wilt, perhappes, iniuriously affyrme, that they sprong of whot and burning luste. But amongest many o­ther thinges, which thou wilt vntruely declare, remember (disloyall Panphilus) to speake of thy owne deceites, by mea­nes of which, thou mayest truely sweare, and say, that thou hast lefte mee in a lamentable and miserable estate. And with these forgette not also to tell of thy receiued honours, and infinite curtesies doone thée, because thou mayest make thy ingratitude sufficientlie knowen to thy hearer.Ingratiude. Nor let it passe thy minde, nor escape thy mouth, to recken vppe how many worthie, valiaunt, and noble young Gentlemen, haue attempted manie times to get my looue, and the diuers mea­nes which continually they practised for the least hope of it, as theyr glorious and dailie musteringes before my win­dowes in goodly troopes, in the day time, their ielous con­tentions by night, and their diuine prowesse shewed in fea­tes of armes, and yet could neuer vnwind me from the labo­rinth of thy enchaunted looue.

And forget not to tell that (notwithstanding all this) for a woman scarcelie knowen, thou hast of mee made a sodaine and dishonourable exchaunge. Who (if she be not perhappes so simple as my selfe) will with great suspect receiue thy dis­sembling kisses, and will warely defend her selfe from thy deceitfull dealinges, from which alas I had neuer the pow­er to kéepe my selfe, and whom I wishe may by such an one to thée, as Atreus his Philomena was to him, or as the daughters of Danaus to theyr newe husbandes, or as Clitemnestra to Agamemnon, or (at the least) as my selfe (thy iniquitie be­ing the occasion thereof) haue liued with my déere husbande, most vnworthie of all these iniuries.

And that she may bring thée to such extreame misery (which nowe for verye pittie of my selfe I doo woefully bewaile) that it may force mée against my will, to power out aboun­daunt teares for thée. All which thinges I pray the Goddes, if that with any pittie they beholde miserable creatures) may quickly fall and light vpon thée.

Although that I was greatlie troubled with this intolle­rable gréefe, and not that daie onely, but many more after, notwithstanding the alteration, that I perceyued in the fore­saide Gentlewoman, dyd stinge mee cruellie on the other syde, the which drewe on my minde sometimes to so ruth­full and ielious thoughtes, as I was not other times accustomed to imagine. And therfore said with my selfe. Alas wher­fore doo I sorrowe (Panphilus) for thy long absence, and that thou art combined to a newe wife, knowinge that if thou werte héere present, thou shouldest bée myne neuer the more, but an others. O most wicked man into how many partes was thy looue discected, and howe fitte dooth the etimologie of thy name and calling agrée with thy nature and condition, since being (Panphilus) thou art a fréende to all. To her with whome thou liuest there, to this, who liues without thée here, to mée, who liues and dies for thée, so that to her, to this, to mée, and yet perhappes to none at all. And so false wretche by these meanes thou wert in league with manie, when I thought though thou diddest defie all women besydes mée. And so it came to passe, that thinking to vse my owne goods, I was to bolde in vsurping that, which belonged to others. And who can tell (thys béeing nowe knowen) if anie of these, more worthie of fauour at the Goddes handes then my selfe) obtesting them for the iniurie receyued by mee, and crauing reuenge for the harmes, that I haue doone them, haue impetrated so much grace, to make mée féele these vnacquainted woes, and vndeserued gréefes of minde. But whosoeuer she bee (if any there bee) let her forgiue mée, because I haue ignorauntly offended.

And my simple ignoraunce dooth deserue some fauourable [Page 48] pardon. But with what fine arte didst thou faine these things with what a vyle conscience didst thou practise thē, by what kinde of looue, or of what tendernesse of mynde wert thou drawen to this: I haue hearde it more then once sayde, that none can loue no more but one, at one & selfe same time.None can looue at one and self same time more then one at once But this rule tooke exception in thée.

For thou diddest looue many or else didest carie a shewe thereof to much by one: Ah carelesse wretche, diddest thou giue to all, or to this one, (which could not so well, nor so craftylie conceale that, which thou diddest so maliciouslye hide from me) that fayth, those teares, those signes, and promises, which thou diddest so prodigally bestowe on mée. If thou did­dest this thou mayest then securelie liue, and at thy libertie looue all, and yet not bound to anie woman: Because that which is distinctlie giuen to manie cannot bée properlie sayd, giuen to one.

Alas how may it then otherwise, bee but that hée, who rob­beth so many simple women of their yéelding hartes, must néedes be despoyled of his by some woman againe.Why Nar­cissus was enamored of himselfe. Narcissus belooued of manie, and being most rigorous to all was, at the last ouertaken with the shadowe of his owne beautie. Ata­lanta most swifte, and pittilesse in her race, lefte her misera­ble loouers behinde combatting betwéene looue, life, and death, vntill Hippomenes with a braue and maistered deceit ouer ranne and ouer came her, she consenting also willinglie to the same.

But why doo I alledge olde examples? My selfe, who could neuer be taken of any one, was at last (ah mée therefore) vn­fortunately surprised by thée. Hast not thou therefore amon­gest so many of thy spoile, foūd out some braue one, who hath entangled thee? I doo not thinke, but doo assuredlie beleeue, that thou wert once subdued by hym, who maie tame thée, and subiect to her, who had but little cause to bee prowde of her captiue.

But if thou wert (whatsoeuer shée was, that with so great force dyd conquer thy subtile heart) why doost thou not [Page] aply thy looue onely to her lykinges. But if neyther to her, nor to me thou hast desire to retourne, at least come backe a­gaine to this, who could not couer thy secrete and false looue, nor conceale her owne fond passions. And if thou wilt néeds haue my fates and fortune so contrarie to me (which perhaps according to thy erronious oppinion I haue deserued) let not my offences preiudicate the right of other women. Returne againe to them at the least, and kéepe thy fayth first perhaps promised to them, and then to mée, and to hurt me onely, of­fende not so many, as I beléeue thou hast left héere, and else where in vaine and fonde hope. And let not one preuayle more there, then many héere.

She is alreadie thine, nor cannot (although she would) but be still thine. Leauing her therefore in safetie, and with in­fallible assuraunce of thy looue, come, because those which are not able to be made thine, but with thy presence, thou mayest with the same kéepe them also thine: After many of these vaine spéeches, because they did neither smite into the eares of the Gods, nor sound in those of that obdurate and vngrate­full young man, it came to passe sometimes, that sodainely I changed my councelles into these spéeches, saying. O misera­ble young woman, wherfore doost thou desire, that Panphilus should come hether againe? Doost thou thinke, with greater patience to suffer that consuming corsiue néere thée, which being so farre of, is most gréeuous to thy thoughtes. Thou desi­rest sond woman thy owne harme. And if now thou remai­nest in (peraduēture) that he loueth thée. So if he did returne thou maiest be assured, that hee were come not for thy sake, but for the looue of some other woman. Let him therefore re­maine still there, and from hence forth being farre from thée, let him rather hold thy looue in doubtfull suspence, then ly­uing héere, by contrarie examples and by to apparaunt de­monstrations shewe, that he dooth not looue thée at all. And content thy selfe at the least, that thou doost not remaine a­lone in these consuming paines, and forsake not that comfort, that miserable and distressed women, when they haue com­panions in their miseries, are wont to take.

It were too harde a taske for me (good Ladyes) to shewe with what incensed ire, with what quantity of teares, wyth what burning sighes, and choaking sobs, with what gryping gréefes of my poore hart, and with what vehement and dole­full passions, I was almost euerie day wont to meditate on these thoughts, and to thinke of these matters. But because euery hard thing in time is mollified and chaunged,Euery hard thing wex­eth soft in time. it hap­pened that hauing manie daies together ledde this kinde of life, and not able to sincke any further into y^e Gulfe of gréefe, then I was already fallen, by little and little it began some­what to relent. And the more it departed from my affected soule, the more was my feruent loue, and lukewarme hope kindled there againe, both which remayning in the place of my surceasing sorrowes, made me chaunge my present wyl, and alter my first desires of hauing my Panphilus againe, and to deskant somewhat of his returne to mee againe. And as euen now the dispayre of neuer enioying him again, was most contrary to me in this, so much the more did my repugnant desire of the contrary encrease. And as kindled flames tossed abroade, and blowne about with boysterous wyndes, doo grow into greater flakes, so Loue by contrary thoughtes in mee, was not onely nourished, but made of greater force. Wherefore I was mooued with repentance of these foresaid frantick passions, and superfluous spéeches. And nowe consi­dering well of that in my minde, which vnbridled anger had prouoked me to say, I was as much ashamed, as if they thē ­selues hadde heard me. And therefore I gentlie blamed that sencelesse rage, which in the first assaults of it, with so great force and furie dooth take holde of our blinde mindes, that it doth not permit any trueth (be it neuer so much apparaunt) to be manifest vnto them. But notwithstanding, the more it is kindled, the more in space of time it waxeth colde againe, and doth make that afterwards cléerely known, which rash­ly before it condemned in words and déedes. Wherefore ha­uing recouered my right mind againe, and after my sences were better setled, I beganne thus to say. O moste foolishe yonge Womanne, wherefore dooest thou thus molest thy [Page] sefe?Louers som times blame and sometimes excuse their beloued a­gaine. Wherfore without any certain occasion or knowledge dooest thou consume thy selfe in the heate and rage of thyne owne anger. Saie that this is true, that the Merchant tolde (which perhaps is not) and admit that hee hath marryed a wife, is this so great a matter? An inopinate thing indéede (I must confesse,) which thou diddest not thinke woulde so soone fall out. And yet it is most requisite, that yong men in these causes must please and obey theyr Fathers willes. For if his Father woulde haue it so, with what face or coloure could he deny it? And thou must also beléeue, that moste of them that take wyues, may loue them well, and yet estéeme of others more. And, that the copious plentie, which busibo­died wiues yéelde to their quiet Husbands, is an occasion of suddain cloying, although they did neuer so much please and delight them in the beginning. And what dost thou knowe, how much, or whither she doth content him or not. Perhaps Panphilus tooke her by méere compulsion, and louing thee more then euer he did her, it is (perhappes) no small gréefe vnto him, and doth thinke the time too long and tedious in beeing with her. And if she please him, thou maiest yet hope, that she will quickly séeme vnpleasaunt, and yrkesome vnto him.

And of his promised faith and religious oathes y^u canst not truely, with any reason accuse him, because comming to thée againe, he shall in thy Chamber fulfill the one and the o­ther, and what els he hath auowed to our mutuall and great ioy. Haue therefore recourse to the Gods with prayers, that Loue, which is able to doo more then pledged oathes, or pawned faith, may mooue and make him returne to thée againe. And besides this, why shouldest thou haue any suspition of his disloyaltie, perswaded thereunto by the troubled mynde only, and altered countenaunce of the yong Gentlewoman. Doost not thou know, howe many yong Gentlemenne loue thée in vaine, who if they knewe thée to bee Panphilus hys Mistresse, could not chuse but bee greatly agréeued. So must thou think it possible, and no strange thing, y^t hee is beloued again of many women, who would be as sorowful & as hea­uy [Page 50] to heare that of him which gréeued thée so much, although for diuers occasiōs euery one might be especially discontent. And in this maner, forging sundry fancies with my selfe, I came (as it were) again to my first hope. And whereas I had before thundred forth many blasphemous curses against his dealings, now with humble and milde petitions I entreated him, and perswaded my selfe to the contrary. Thus hope re­couered once againe, my tormented hart had not, for all that any force to be merry, but there appeared rather in my countenaunce signes of sorrowe, and I felt in my minde a conti­nuall molestation, so that I knew not what to doo, or how to thinke of these perplexities. My first cares were fled away, and in the first furie of my suddaine anger,The condi­tions of an­gry louers, & of those that are o­uercome with theyr passions I had in rage cast away all the stones, which were memoriall testimonies of the ouerpassed daies, and had burned all the Letters I re­ceiued from him, broken all his fauours, and rent in péeces all his other trash.

I tooke no pleasure now to gaze vpō y^e heauen, as she, who was vncertaine and doubtful of his returne, béeing thorow­ly perswaded of it before. The desire that once I hadde to heare amorous hystories and tales, and to passe the night a­way in such exercises, was quite dead, and the present time, which had abbreuiated nowe the Sommer nights, didde not graunt these thinges, of which oftentimes eyther all or some great part I passed away without sléepe, continually spend­ing them in pittiful plaints, and in sad cogitations. And if I enioyed sometimes the benefite of swéete sléepe, my fancies were neuertheles troubled and tossed about sundry dreames some of them séeming very ioyfull vnto me, and some full of sorrow and care. The resorting to publique places, temples and feastes, was yrkesome nowe vnto me, and I did neuer, (or els very seldome, when I could doo none other) visite or desire to goe to them. My face béeing on y^e suddaine become leane and pale, caused so many maruailes, doubts, and sad­nes in my house, that euery one talked diuersly of the same.

And looking and lyuing in thys pittifull case, and ma­king semblaunce that I knewe of nothinge, I remayned [Page] the most pensiue and the most sorowfull woman that might be. My doubtfull thoughts did draw on and waste most part of the day, vncertaine whither I might resolue my selfe to myrth or moane? But séeing the nights fitting best my vn­pleasant humours, and finding my selfe alone in my Cham­ber, after hauing first lamented my woes, and talked manie thinges with my selfe, stirred vppe and inspired as it were with better counsell, I turned my deuout prayers to Venus saying.

Fiammet­tas prayer to VenusO singuler beautie of the Heauens. O moste pittifull Goddesse, and most holy Venus, who in likenesse of thy selfe in the beginning of my anxieties, diddest appeare vnto mee in this Chamber. Aforde me now some comfort for my great gréefes, and by that reuerend and internall loue, that thou diddest beare fayre Adonis, mittigate my extreame paines. Beholde what tribulations I suffer for thée. Beholde howe manie times the terrible Image of death hath béene presen­ted before mine eyes.The Image of death terrible, Behold if my pure faith hath deserued so much paine as I wrongfully sustaine. Béeing but yong, and not knowing thy darts, I suffered my selfe at thy firste pleasures, and without denyall to become thy subiect. Thou knowest how much good thou didst promise me: and I can­not truely denie, but that I haue enioyed some part thereof, but if thou wilt comprehend these sorrowes, which thou did­dest giue me, as part also of that good, then let Heauen and earth perrish in one howre, and let all lawes like vnto these be adnihilated, and made newe againe with the world. But if they séeme vnequall in thy sight (as I hope they doo) then let (O gracious Goddesse) thy promise be fulfilled, because thy holy mouth may not be thought, or saide to haue learned to dissemble (as mortall mens doo.) Sende forth thy Sonne wyth his golden arrowes, and wyth thy firebrandes to my Panphilus, where he doth nowe remaine so far distant from mee, and enflame his hart in such sorte (if peraduenture for not séeing me so long time, it is waxen too colde in my loue, or too hote with the present beauty of an other) that burning as I doo, none occasion whatsoeuer may with-hold him from [Page 51] comming backe againe. Because taking againe some com­fort and ease vnder the heauie burden of these calamities, I may not so quickly die.

O most fayre Goddesse, let my wordes sounde into thy eares, and if thou wilt not sette him on fire, pull out of my poore hart thy wounding Darts, because I may (as well as he) spende my dayes without such great gréefe. Wyth thys forme of prayers (although I sawe theyr effects but vaine, yet thinking that they were hearde) I did with small hope somewhat lighten my torments, & beginning new thoughts I said.

Oh Panphilus where art thou nowe.Ielious thoughts Alas what dooest thou? hath now the silent night surprised thée without sléepe and with so many teares as it hath taken holde of mee? Or doth thy yong spouse perhaps (not hearde of me at all) holde thée in her armes, or yet without any remembraunce of me, doost thou swéetly sléepe? Alas how may it be, that Loue can gouerne two Louers with so vnequall Lawes, bothe louing so firmely, as I am too assured y^t I doo, and as perhaps thou doost. I know not? But if it be so, that these thoughts do oc­cupy thy minde, as they doo ouercome mine, what wycked prysons, or mercilesse chaynes doo hold thée, that in breaking of them thou doost not returne to mee? I know not (certes) what might stay me from going to thée, vnlesse my beautye, (which woulde without all doubt be an occasion of my vtter shame, and a great impediment to me in all places) did not onely kéepe me backe. What busines soeuer, and what other occasions of stay thou diddest there finde, shoulde bee by thys ended, and nowe thy Father shoulde haue glutted himselfe with thy daily companie, who is I knowe, (and for whose death the Gods know, I doo continually pray) the onely oc­casion of thy stay there. And if not of this, at the least of rob­bing thée from me, he was vndoubtedly the onely cause and means. But I feare me poore soule, that going about to pray for hys death thou dost prolong his life, so contrary are the Goddes to thy requestes, and so inexorable in euery thing I craue of them. Ah let thy loue (if it be such, as it was once [Page] wont to be) conquere their opposite force, and come againe. Dost not thou thinke, that I lye sadlie all alone a great part of the tedious nightes, in the which thou diddest once beare me faithfull company, though accompanied (I must néedes confesse) with millions of martyring thoughts. Alas howe manie long Winter nights lying a colde without thée in a great and sollitarie bedde, haue I passed heauily away. Ah call to thy forgetfull minde, the sundry kindes of these plea­sures, which in manie thinges we were wont to take toge­ger, remembring which, I am then certain, that there is no other Woman able to deuide thée from mee. And this beléefe doth make me (as it were more surer then any other thing, that the newes of the new spouse are but false, which if they were true, yet she cannot (I thinke) take thée from mee, but for a time. Returne therefore, and if swéete delights haue no force to draw thée back againe, let the desire which thou hast to deliuer her (whom aboue all other Women thou louest, from suddaine and shamefull death) perswaded thée to bee re­claimed. Alas, if thou wert now returned, I hardly beleeue that thou couldest know me againe, for so hath excéeding so­row and anguish of mind extenuated, and altered my former and faire countenaunce. But that, which infinite teares hath taken from mee, a short gladnesse (in séeing thy swéete face) shall quickly restore to me againe, and I shall be once again that Fiammetta, which I was before. Ah come Panphilus come, because my hart doth still call vpon thée, suffer not the flower of my yong daies to perrish in dole, altogether prest for thy delights, and vowed to thy pleasures. I knowe not alas, with what modestie I could bridle my suddaine and ex­céeding ioy, if thou werte here againe, but that vnmoderatly it should be manifest to euery publicke personne. Because I doubt (and iustly) that our loue, with great wisedome and patience a long time concealed, might not bee perhaps disco­uered to euery one. But yet wert thou come to sée, and to try, whither ingenious lies could as well take place in pros­perous euēts, as in aduerse & crooked accidents. Alas I wold thou wert for all this come, and if it could not be better, then [Page 52] let euery one that would knowe it, because I woulde thinke quickly to find out a playster for euery wounde.

This béeing saide,The vaine beleefe of Louers I suddainly rose vppe and ranne to the windowe, as if he had vnderstoode my words, but I per­ceiued my selfe (alas) deceiued in my foolish imagination, in thinking that I hearde that, which I did not, and y^t he knoc­ked at the dore, as he was sometimes wont to doo. O howe many times, if any of my other carefull Louers had known this, might I haue béene dishonourably dealt withall, if any malicious and crafty person had fained himselfe to be Pan­philus in such a case. But after that I had opened the wyn­dowe, and looked towardes the Gate, myne eyes made mee more assured of this manifest illusion, and so was my vaine ioy tossed with a true and suddaine turbation of minde, not vnlike to the tempestious waues (after that y^e strong Maste, (broken in péeces by blasts of mightie windes, with crump­led sayles by maine force of them is throwne into the Sea) without resistance doo couer and hide the endaungered shyp. And returning after my old wont to my accustomed teares, I did miserably beginne to lament and bewayle. And forc­ing my selfe afterwards to giue some reste to my tormented minde, drawing vp the vapours of swéete sléepe into my clo­sed eyes, in this manner with my selfe I did call vpon them againe. Oh quiet sléepe,Sleepe the rest of all things, and the peace of all mens mindes the most pleasant rest of all mortall things, and vaine peace of mens mindes, which doost shunne all care like an enemie, come to mee, and with thy operati­ons driue out of my burning brest, these smothered thoughts these heauie cares, and these ruthfull and restles fancies O thou, that doost restore wearied bodies, and hardened in cruel and breathlesse paynes to ease againe, and dooest make them fitte and fresh to endure newe labours, why dooest thou not come? thou giuest repose to others, giue also some little rest to me, whose néede is more then any others els. Forsake the eyes of merry and pleasaunt yong Gentlewomenne, who holding nowe theyr Louers in theyr armes, and passing the time ioyfully in the exercise of the Goddesse of Cypris games, do vtterly refuse and hate thée. And enter into mine, [Page] who lyeth héere alone, forsaken, and choaked with Seas of sorrowfull teares, and consumed with scalding sighes. O thou the tamer of fierce and wicked creatures, and y^e better part of man his life, let me take some comfort by thée, and reserue thy absence, vntill that time, when Panphilus wyth his pleasant discourses shal delight my weaned eares, which shall be neuer wearied in hearing him, & my desirous eyes, with hys braue beauty in looking on him. O féeble brother of darke death, which doost equally intermeddle false things wyth true, enter into my sorrowfull eyes. Thou didst once ouerspread Argus his hundred eyes, commaunded by ieli­ous Iuno to watch, and vnwilling to sléepe. Alas, come now into mine,The pro­pertye of sleepe, which are but two, and which doo with great de­sire attende thy gratefull entraunce. O Hauen of life, rest of light and companion of night, which dost come all alike, as gracious to high Kings, as to base and poore slaues, enter in to my sorrowfull breast, and making a pleasaunt soiourne there, recreate a little my daunted spyrits. Oh moste sweete sléepe, which doost compell humaine generation (fearefull of death) with more patience to learne her long and lyngering comming, possesse mée with the effects of thy force, and driue from mee these infectious hurtes, in the which my vnquiet mynd troubleth it selfe without any profit at all. Morpheus more pittifull vnto me then any other God, to whom I offe­red vp my prayers, (admit that he made delay in graunting me that fauour, which I besought hym by my importunate orysons) after a long space (constrayned more by the force of my pittifull prayers, and vnpittied disquiet then of hys pro­per accorde) came slowly and silently stealing into my eyes, and so (my selfe not perceiuing him at all) crept in by y^e windowes,Dreames of haples Louers as yet halfe open, into my giddye heade, which didde greatly néede his presence and helpe: and béeing moste wyl­lingly entertained there, did wholy turne himselfe vppe and downe, possessing euery place of it. But swéete and desired peace, although that sléepe was come, did not yet enter into my vnsetled minde, but in lue of thoughts & teares, a thou­sande fearefull visions, (full of infinite terrors) dydde make [Page 53] mée greatly afraide, beléeuing verely, that no hellishe furie remained in Pluto his Citties, but that euery one in most horrible formes and vglie shapes (mée thought) did appeare many times vnto mée, threatning mée of diuers insuinge stratagemes, and often times with their gastly lookes brea­king mée out of my momentarie sléepe, which afterwardes (as though I had not séene them at all) I was content and gladde with in my selfe, that they were but fantasticall and foolishe shadowes.

And in bréefe, there were but a fewe of these nightes af­ter the vnfortunate tidinges of this newe bridegroome and his bride, in the which I tooke any pleasure, or ease in my forced sléepe, and neuer representing to my wandring fantasies my Panphilus with such ioy, as they were wont to doo, many times before. Which thinge did no lesse beyonde all measure, gréeue mée, then the contrary without meane to molest mée. Of all these cares at last, of al my streaming, teares, ceaselesse sobs and sighes, and of al my multiplied gréefs but not of the occasion of them, my déere husbande had no small inckling, and knowledge, especially when hee percei­ued, that the liuely cullour of my face was chaunged into a dead palenesse, and that my pleasaunt and shining eyes (de­painted rounde about with two blewe and purple circles) were déepely suncke into my forhead. Séeing which things (I say) caused him many times to maruaile, howe all these alterations should happen.

But perceauing at length, that I had lost my appetite to meate, and that my woonted sléepe had forsaken me, he some times asked mee, what was the cause thereof. Whom I an­swered, that the weakenesse of my stomake was in faulte, which had so extenuated and appalled my face, with that deformed leannesse, my selfe not knowing no other cause, why it was thus gonne from me but onely that. Alas how simplie did hée beléeue (giuing entier fayth to my deceitfull wordes) this feyned excuse and false tale, and caused infinite medicines to bée made and ministred to mée, all which (to content hym) I did willinglie take, not that I did thinke to [Page] get any profitte or ease at all by them.No helpe of the body can lighten the passions of the soule. For what lightning of the body can ease or asswage the infesting passions of the infected soule? None I beléeue. But my minde being purged of them, they might (perhappes) alleuiate and helpe my bo­die much. The medicine auaileable for my maladie was but one, which was very precious, déere, and to farre of, to make me receiue my pristinate health. But after my decei­ued husband perceiued, that all these drugges did helpe mee but a little, or nothing at all, hee being more tender and carefull of mée (then I deserued) by sundrye wayes and newe meanes endeuoured to purge me of this melancholick humour, and to restore to mée my lost and former mirth, but yet he laboured all in vaine.

Sometimes with comfortable wordes hee did assaie to chéere me vp, saying. There are swéete Ladie, and my déere­lie belooued wife, (as thou knowest well enough) a little be­yonde the pleasaunt hill of Falernus, in the middest of olde Cuma, Delectable places. delectable Ilandes vpon the Sea coastes: The situa­tion of which, is so swéet, pleasaunt, & delightsome, that the like (I thinke) is not vnder the coape of wyde heauen. They are inuironed with most fayre hils, full of all sortes of fruit, and couered all ouer with gréene vines, loaden with goodlie bunches of white, redde and purple Grapes, in the vallies of which, there are no kinde of wilde beasts, that may with pleasure be hunted, but are to be found there.

Nor farre distaunt from thence, there is a great playne full of game, and fytte for all manner of flyghtes of praying and sollacing Hawkes. There is the Ilande Pitycufa, and Nisida, abounding in Connies, and the Sepulcher of great Mesenus, leadinge awaie to the darke kyngdomes of Pluto.

There are Sibilla of Cuma her Oracles, there is the Lake Auernus, and the great Theator (a common and auncyent place for many braue pastymes, and rare specta­cles. There are swéet & cléere Fishpondes, the Hill Barba­rus, and the vayne and prodigall labours of the wicked Em­perour Nero.

All which delightes both olde and moderne, cannot but greatly recreate mens mindes, that neuer sawe them bée­fore. Who for theyr pleasure and sollace, goe many times to visite them.

And besides all this, there are most healthfull and whole­some Bathes for men and women of all degrées, and most swéete and goodlie ones for Ladies of honour, and renowne. And the ayre being verie temperate and pleasaunt there, dooth continually aforde fitte tymes, and good occasions and meanes to visite them. There is no going thether without a merry minde, nor abyding there, without great feastes, iollitie and pastime in such braue companies of noble men, Ladyes, Gentlewomen, and fine and stately dames of this Cittie.

Wherefore I am determined that thy selfe, (not well, as thou sayest in thy stomacke,) and troubled worse (I feare in minde, and, as farre as I can gesse, gréeued with déepe and melancolie passions) for recouerie of eache sanitie a­gaine, shall goe thether with mée: Which iourney shall not bée without great pleasure, assured profitte, and spéedy helpe vnto thy distempered bodie, and sorrowfull minde. But when I heard his words doubting least in the very middest of our sports and abroad there, my déere Panphilus might returne, and so might not (perhappes) sée him, inflicted with inwarde gréefe, I stayed a good while pawsing, before I could answer him againe.

But after séeing his resolute pleasure imagining also, that if he came, he would séeke me out wheresoeuer I was, I an­swered hym I was readie at his pleasure, to goe whether, and when he would. And to bee shorte not manie dayes af­after we went thether.

Oh what contrarie medicines did my loouing husband excogitate, and practyse for my helpelesse greefes? Admitte that corporall langours were cured there, yet verie sildome or neuer dyd any goe thether with a whole and sound mind, that dyd returne with the same agayne whether it was the méere Situation of the place washed with the waues of [Page] the Sea (the naturall place of Venus natiuitie,) or the time in which it is more vsed (in spring tyde I meane) as more fitte for those thinges, that made it. Neither is that (truely) to be maruailed at, which often times appeared to me there. That the most honest Gentlewomen, and of best account, deposing for a while theyr womenly modestie, and shamefast­nesse, did vse in all their merrie méetinges, and sportes, an vnwoonted kinde of vnbrideled libertie and irrequisite familiaritie, and did more lasciuiously assemble togeather in those places (priuiledged perhappes for such wanton pas­times) then any where else.

And I was not onely of this oppinion, that with lesse stayne to theyr honours, in those places, in that companie, & at those times, they might doo it, but all those almost which were accustomed to resort to those Ilands thē as ful of mirth glée and feasts, as Cypres or Cytherea were, at what tyme their Ladies holidaies and diuine honours were celebrated there. The greatest part of the time there was spent in ease, and passed away sometime more in delightfull exercises, & not a fewe times in amorous discourses of Gentlewomen amongst themselues, or else in company of young gentlemen and Gentlewomen altogether.

There were no viands but most delicious, & which were most deintie to be got,Wine stir­reth vp to Venery, & most noble, precious, olde & the pu­rest wines, of force not onely to awake drousie Venus, but to rayse vp to lyfe that vigour, which is already mortified in a­ny man or woman, doo followe there. And how much also the vertue of the bathes dooth conferre to the same, they doo better knowe, who haue sometimes prooued them. There the coole, Sea bankes, and most pleasaunt gradens, and e­uerie other place besides, with diuers feastes, with newe deuised sportes, with most fyne and curious dauncinges, with all kindes of musicall instrumentes, and celestiall me­lodie, and with amorous songes and Madrigalles, made, plaied, and sung by those lusty youthes, and swéet Nimphes did resound forth merueilous and pleasant Ecchoes. Who is he therefore, that can amongest so many entising pleasures [Page 55] there, kéepe him selfe frée from Cupide his dartes, who dooth without any paine or labor (if I am not deceiued) rule there, as in the most principall place of all his kindomes, and hel­ped by so many fréendlie allectiues, dooth with great ease a­gainst such willing and capable subiectes, vse his strength and diuine forces.

Into such places (most pittifull Ladies) my husband was wont to carrie me) to rid me of my amorous burning feuer. Into which after that we were arriued, looue vsed no other meanes towardes me, then hee did towardes other, but my soule rather, (which could not be wrapped in more strayght bondes of looue then it was) somewhat (though little e­nough) cooler, and by the long staying, that Panphilus being from me had made, and by many teares, & sustained gréefes) was kindled into so great flames, y^t I thought, I had neuer felt the like before. And this did not onely arise of y^e foresayd occasions, but remembring with my selfe that I was often times there in Panphilus his companie, both looue and grefe (séeing my selfe without him) did not a little encrease in my wounded heart. I sawe not any Hill, or Valley, that I (accompained sometimes of many, and of him, sometimes pitching their toiles for wild and sauage beasts, sometimes leading houndes, and learning water Spaniels, and laying ginnes to entrappe and snare the sillie Foules of the Ayre, sometimes bayting hookes with Angle corde, to choake the pretty and foolishe Fishes in cléere riuers and brookes, and sometimes getting some, and other sometimes missing of their purpose) knew not and perceiued, that these were eui­dent testimonies of our mutuall pastaunce and glée. More­ouer, I did not sée any rocke shore or Ilande there, but I sayd.

Héere was I with my Panphilus, The like Pe­trarck vnfolded most finely in a certaine Sonnet. this did he speake vnto me here, & this did we here. Likewise there could be nothing else séene there, which was not first an especiall occasion to me, with great efficacy to remember him, and with more feruent desire afterwardes to sée him either héere, or else re­turned in any other place againe. As it pleased therfore my [Page] déere hushand, so there we beganne to take our delightes. Sometimes rising vp betimes, and so soone as cléere daie appeared, and mounted vpon our swifte coursers, and gentle Palfreies, sometimes with houndes, sometimes with haw­kes, and with both sometimes, rominge vppe and downe into the néerest places, and most aboundant for vollerie and venerie, nowe thorowe the shadowed Woodes, and nowe in the open féeldes, we went earnestlie persuing our game. And séeing manie goodlie chases, and braue courses there, reioycing euery ones heart to sée them, did but a little or no­thing dimnishing my sorrowfull thoughtes, for when I sawe any fayre flyght, or course, therewith all I presently sayde.

O that thou werte héere Panphilus, to sée this sporte, as sometimes thou wert. But (alas) hauing now vntill that poynt, somewhat sustained, and with lesse gréefe, endured the beholding, and with some small relaxation of my paines, followed these pastimes, by recording them nowe, and thus in my minde (ouercome as it were with secréet gréefe) I left them abruptly of, and let them all doo as they lysted for mée.

O howe many times doo I remember, that in these ima­ginations, my bended bowe, and arrowes did fall out of my handes, in handling of which, in pitching of nettes, and let­ting houndes goe, or following them, there was not anie Nimphe that waited one Diana her traine, that did (I thinke) euer excell me. And it fell out very often, that manie times in my chéefest sporte of hawking like a carelesse wo­man, and thinking of other greater matters, I did let those hawkes that I caryed on my fist (my selfe flowen as it were out of my wyts) with sodaine flight to soare away, of which pastime being in times past most studious,Diuers pas­times bring to vnhappy loouers no pleasure at all, and as much de­sirous, and not halfe so carelesse to committe such faultes, I dyd not only now take no regarde, but founde no pleasure in them at all.

But after that euery valley, hill and all the wyde plaines were thorowly trauersed vppe and downe, and our com­panie [Page 56] laden with store of praye, wée returned home to our pleasaunt Pauilions, which often tymes wée found full of glée, and myrth by reason of sundrie and diuers feastes made in them.

Sometimes afterwardes sitting vnder the hollow dens, and entryes of hygh Rockes, that did with their crooked bodyes ouerhange the Sea, and with freshe ayre shadow­ing the Sandes, where tables being set and furnished with sundrie sortes of meates, in companie of many Ladyes and braue Gentlewomen wee made great cheere togea­ther.

From which againe we were not so soone risen, but dy­uers swéete instrumentes sounding melodious musicke, the young Gentlemen and Gentlewomen in most braue order beganne to leade diuers stately and pleasaunt daunces, in which I must néedes (though against my will) make one. But because my melancolie minde was not delyghted with them, and that the weakenesse of my bodie did also de­nie the same, I daunced but a measure or two, and satte me downe againe. And with drawing my selfe behynd all y^e rest amongest the cloathes of Tapistrie and Arras that were spreade abroade, and hung vp I secretly sayde to my selfe. Where art thou nowe my Panphilus, and so sat me downe againe amongest other Gentlewomen.

And in these places at the very same time giuing a wil­ling eare to the skilfull musicke, and the siluer soundes of of those instrumentes, which with passing swéete notes en­tred déepely into my mynde, and thinking of my Panphilus I dyd at one tyme couer and hyde, discorde, feasts and gréefe because listening to the pleasaunt noyse made, euery demy deade spyrite of looue dyd regaine theyr former vigour, and force in mée againe: and the remembraunce of those merrie times dyd returne againe to my minde, in whych the hea­uenly harmony of these instruments, touched with rare skil was wont in presence of my Panphilus to worke diuers cō ­mendable and swéete effectes. But séeing not my Panphilus there, with most sorrowfull teares and sighes I would wil­linglye [Page] haue complayned on them, if it hadde beene lawfull for me in that place. And besides this the sundrie Sonnets sung of many young Gentlewomen there (excéeding the Nightingales in sweete notes) were wont in my ioyfull times to delight my happie minde, of the which, if there was any (peraduenture) that did please my melancolicke humanes, I gaue most attentiue eare vnto the same, and de­siring greatly to haue it, because rehearsing and singing it afterwardes to my selfe, I might openly and with lesse sus­spect after a modest kind of sort, learne couertly to mourne, and secréetly to sorrowe with my selfe, with those gréefes es­pecially, that were contained in it.

But after that the reiterated daunces and roundes had wearied the young Gentlewomen, euery one beganne to place themselues amongst vs, and (as it was no rare thing there to sée the amorous young Gentlemen thronging a­bout vs, did encompasse vs in manner of a crowne, whych thing neuer happened there, or any where else, that I per­ceiued, but it made me call to minde that fatall day, when Panphilus, standing behinde a fayre knote of younge Gen­tlemen, entrapped mée with the vertues of his diuine gra­ces: Wherfore I lifted vp myne eyes many times in vaine, prying and looking betwéene them, being fondlie perswaded by my foolish conceite, that I should in lyke manner haue séene my Panphilus amongest them here.

Wherefore casting mine eyes sometimes amongst them I marked howe some of them with eger lookes, and pyt­tifull glaunces dyd beholde the amiable obiectes of theyr chéefest desyres.

And my selfe waxed by this time very cunninge in those amorous daliaunces, with a perplexed eye dyd viewe euery one, and note euery thinge, they dyd, and perceyued well, who looued in déede, and who iested in demonstrati­on, sometymes commending one for the grace, that hee ob­serued in hys discourse, and sometymes an other for the prettie inuention hee vsed, and for hys amorous argu­mentes so well couched togeather in his loouing stintes: [Page 57] saying to my selfe,After a known er­rour one wexeth wise at length that my miserable estate and cursed con­dition had béene much better, if I had then plaid the counter fette, as nowe they did, reseruing thereby a frée soule to my selfe, as with dallying and sporting they did kéepe to them­selues. Afterwardes refelling such an opinion, I sayd. Nay I am rather content (if in possessing an euill there is any cō ­tent at all) to haue loued faithfully.

Returning therefore with mine eyes and thoughts to the wanton behauiour, and amorous actions of these yonge Louers, I reaped some small comforte by their sundry fan­cies. And when I did perceiue that any of them didde loue more feruently then the rest, I did more commend with my selfe such well meaning Louers. And hauing thus a long time with an earnest minde behelde them, I began softly to say with my selfe. O thrise happy and fortunate are you, who are not depriued of the sight, and sence of your vnder­standing as I am? Alas howe was I wont heretofore (as you doo nowe) to sollace my selfe with these indifferent re­creations. Long may you enioy your felicity, since I alone must remaine an example of scorne, and a patterne of myse­rie to all the worlde. If Loue at the least (making mee dis­content with the thing beloued of mee) shall bee an occasion to shorten my dayes, then shall it followe, that with a tragi­call death (as Eliza did) I wil eternish my euerlasting fame and memory.

And hauing thus saide, I helde my peace, and went a­gaine to note those countenaunces, gestures & actions, with which these louing Nouices, professed Louers,No feast de lighteth where the thing belo­ued is not seene. and retyred Souldiours did diuersly studie to please their dainty Ladies and Gentlewomen. Oh how many haue I eftsoones séene in like places, who (after a great while hauing looked in euery place about for their desired ioyes, and not séeing nor finding them, déeming and reporting the feast not halfe so pleasaunt by reason of their absence, nor so delightsome) with halfe an­gry and very sad countenaunces haue gone from thence a­gaine. Wherevppon some little laughter (although it was but féeble and weake) in the middes of all my melancholye [Page] dumps was permitted to take place, and a little comfort al­so graunted to them, perceiuing that I had company in my sorrowes, measuring in this sort by mine owne miseryes o­ther mens mishaps. Then thus disposed (most déere Ladies) as my words doo shew, the delicate bathes, the weary hun­ting, and the Sea bancks hadde glutted my queasie minde with all kind of pastimes, and cloyed it with superfluities of feasts. Wherfore dismasking my old & former countenance, and discouering the smoake of my choaked sighes, and y^e losse likewise of my appetite to my meate and sléepe, to my decei­ued Husbande, and not caring to manifest to the appointed phisitions of my health, these incurable infirmities, bothe hée and they disparyring (as it were) with thēselues of my life, we returned againe to the Cittie. In the which, the conditi­on of the time preparing many and diuers feastes, it framed also with thē diuers occasions of my manifolde gréefes: wherfore it came many times to passe, y^t to the solēnising of new espousalles I was especiallie also inuited, as béeing by pa­rentage néere of kinne to them, or els by auncient familiari­tie, fréendship, or neighbourhood, acquainted otherwise with them. To the which also my Husband oftentimes constray­ned mee to goe, thinking by these meanes to preuent the or­dinarie course of my melancholy fits, or els somwhat to ease my mind, so greatly infested by them. Wherupon I was at such times vrged to take again my forsaken ornaments, and to put my neglected hayre (iudged of all men before to shine like gold, but not vnlike nowe to ashes) in the finest order I could, wherin I was not to learne, howe to doo it. And remē ­bring my selfe with a more déepe consideration,Appassio­nated yong Gentlewo­men care not how to adorne thē ­selues. whom these fine thredds of gold, besides all other beauties were wont to delight, with a new froward passiō I did disturbe again my fantastical mind, which made me somtimes so much forgett my selfe, y^t I remember, that (no otherwise then called backe againe from a déepe sléepe, or raysed out of an extasie) taking vp again the combe, that was fallen out of my handes, I re­turned to my careles & vnwilling office. And taking some assured counsel in my Glasse, of the setting foorth of these or­naments, [Page 58] with which I had adorned my selfe. And séeing my face to looke very pale, and greatly dis-figured, and déepely therewithall apprehending in my minde my lost and alte­red beautie, I was almost in a doubt, whither it was my face or no, which I sawe in the Glasse, but imagining rather that some infernall and hidious furie stoode by me, turning my selfe about, I did veryly thinke and feare, that it was be­hind me. But yet, after y^t I was tricked vp very braue, cleen contrary to the quallitie of my minde, I went with other gentlewomen to those solemne & sumptuous feasts, in which raigned nothing but mirth, ioy, and all manner of mery and pleasant recreations. Merrie I terme them in respecte of o­thers, because as he knoweth, from whom nothing is hydde, there was neuer any since the departure of my Panphilus, which was not an occasion to me of most heauy chéere & matter of continuall sorrowe. Béeing therefore come to the pla­ces appoynted for the honors of such marriages, although that in diuers places, and at diuers times celebrated, yet they neuer sawe me otherwise disposed, then to remaine stil at one stay, which was, bearing a counterfette countenaunce of content, and a fayned face, (as well as I coulde) of merry­nesse, with my inward minde altogether occupied with sub­iects of sorrow, deriuing the occasion of this sadnes & gréefe, as well from ioyfull and pleasaunt things which I sawe, as from sorrowfull and vnpleasant passions which I felt. But after that amongst other Ladies and Gentlewomen I was with great honor receiued, my mind not intentiue vpō new fashions, nor mine eies desirous to gaze vppon braue & ritch attire, wherwith al y^e place did shine, but with a vain imagination deceiuing thēselues, thinking (perhaps) to haue seene Panphilus there (as oftentimes in like places they had doone before) they went rolling vp & down, & casting their beames in euery place round about: and not séeing him, as one nowe most assured of that, of which I was at y^e firste probably per­swaded, & like a woman confounded in mine owne foolish cō ­ceit, I sat me down with y^e rest of y^e Ladies, refusing the pro­fered curtesies, and offered honors, for whose sake (he béeing now absent) they were wont to be most déere vnto me.

And after that the new Bryde was come home, and the magnificent pompe vsed at the Tables was ended, and eue­ry one with his passing daintie cates and heauenly Nectar bad chéered vp their frollicke mindes, as diuers braue daun­ces, sometimes directed by the tuned voyce of some cunning and singuler Musition, and othersome ledde and footed by the sounde of diuers swéete instruments, were begun euery place of the espousall house resounding with a generall ap­plause of myrth and ioy, my selfe because I would not be ac­counted coy and disdainful, but ciuill rather in such an hono­rable assembly, and well manered, hauing gone somtimes a­bout with them, I began to sitte mee downe incontinentlie againe, entring still into newe and fantasticall imaginati­ons.

Euery thīge refresheth the memo­ry of the Louer of his sorpas­sed and happy lifeIt came then to my minde, howe solemne and glorious that feast was, which like vnto this was once made in honor of my nuptiall ioy, in the which béeing then but a simple soule in franticke loue matters, and frée from melancholye passions, as abounding in all ioy, I sawe in my selfe wyth woorthy congratulations of euery one honourablye saluted, and nobly entreated. And cōparing those times with these, and séeing them beyond all proportion altered, I was wyth great desire (if oportunitie of time and place had graunted) prouoked to wéepe. This swyft and suddaine thought, didde runne also in my minde, when I sawe the yong Gentlemen and Gentlewomen to reioyce equally together, and to bee merry alike, courting and deuising one with another, some­times with many pleasant and swéete discourses, and some­times with many singuler and prettie deuises, fitte for such purposes, howe that once I behelde my Panphilus in lyke places, and howe in his company he and I all alone had pas­sed the time there together, and could not nowe doo the like. And it gréeued me no lesse to sée my selfe depryued of the oc­casion of making such kind of ioy, and enioying such content, then I was sorrowfull for the pleasure which I loste by the not performance of the same. But from thence applying my eares to amorous delights, songs and sundry tunes, and re­membring [Page 59] those with my self that were passed, I sighed, and meruailous desirous to sée the ende of such tedious feastes, béeing malecontent in the meane time, and sorrowfull wyth my selfe, I passed them away. Notwithstanding, beholding euery thing exactly, the companies of yong Gentlemen bée­ing flocked about the Gentlewomen and Ladies, that nowe were sette downe to rest them, and retyred into diuers pla­ces to gaze on them, I did perceiue well that many of them, or almost all, did sometimes ayme theyr beames at me, and did talke secretly amongst themselues of diuers things tou­ching my beautie, brauery and behauiour, but not so softlie, but that by manifest hearing of my owne part, or by imagi­nation or hearesay of some others, no smal part of their spée­ches came to mine eares.

Some of them said one to another.Diuers o­pinions and speeches of menne Alas behold that yong Gentlewoman, who had not her paragon for beautie in our Cittie, and sée nowe what an one she is become? Dooest not thou sée how strangely she is altered, and how appalled her once faire face is growne, my selfe béeing as ignorant of the cause, as amazed to sée the effects. And hauing thus said, loo­king on me with a most pittifull and milde eye, as they who were greatly condolent of my gréefes, going away left mee full of compassion, and more pittious towards my selfe, then I was wont to be. Others didde enquire of one another, a­mongst themselues, saying. Alas, hath this Gentlewoman béene sicke? And afterwards did answere themselues again, saying: It séemeth so, because she is wexed so leane and pale. Wherefore it is great pittie, especiallye thinking of her for­mer beautie y^t is nowe vaded quite away. But there were some of a déeper reache then the reste, whose true surmises greeued me very much, after many gesses and spéeches a­mongst themselues, saying. The palenes of this yong Ladie is a manifest token of an enamored hart. For what kind of infirmitie doth bring a Louer to a lower estate of bodie, then the vnruly passions of feruent and hote affection? She is vndoubtedly in loue. And if it be so: hée is too cruell and inhu­maine, that is the cause of such vnwoorthye consequences, [Page] (gréefe and cares I meane, that make her looke with so pale and thinne chéekes.

When I had hearde these nipping wordes that rubbed vppe my festered wounde, I coulde not with-holde my sighes, perceiuing that others were more ready to pittie my miseries, then he to preuent these mishaps, who by greatest reason, and most of all shoulde haue hadde compassion in his thanklesse harte. And after I had fetcht manie déepe sighes, with an humble and lowe voice I earnestlye besoughte the Gods, that in lue of their kindnes towardes me, they might haue better successe in their Loues. And I remember again, that the value of my honour and honestie was not small a­mongst some of them, who in talking together, did fauoura­bly séeme to excuse the foresaide true surmises, saying. The Gods forbid y^t we should hatch such a thought in our minds, to say, that fonde Loue shoulde molest this wise & modest yong Ladie, or that blind affection could trouble her minde at all. For she as she is endued with as great honestye as a­ny other, so was shee (as it euer séemed) neuer addicted to such vanities as many of her coequalles, and hath not shew­ed at any time so much as a semblance of wanton boldnesse, but continually arguments of wise and modest behauiour. Nor amongst the diuers communications and companies of curious and inquisite Louers, there could be neuer heard a­ny spéech of her Loue,Loue is a passion not supported any long time. not once immagined amongst them, which is so furious and forcible a passion, that it will not bée anie long time concealed, but will like restrained flames vi­olently burst out vnawares.

Alas (sayd I then to my selfe) howe farre doo they roame from the truth, not déeming me to be in loue, because, (as it is the manner of fooles) I make not my loue publicke to the view of euery one, and preache it not openly abroade to bee secretely tossed from mouth to mouth, as others (vainly glo­rying in theirs) are commonly wont to doo. There came al­so sometimes oppositely before mee, many yonge and noble Gentlemen, proper men of personage, of swéete and amiable countenaunces, in euery thing gracious, couragious, and [Page 60] curteous, and the chiefest flowers of our Cittie, who often times before, by many cunning meanes and drifts, hadde to their vtmost of their power attempted, and laboured to haue drawne but the deuotions of my eyes to the desires of theyr harts. Who, after that a certaine while they had séene mée, so much deformed and altered from that I was wont to bée, (not wel pleased perhaps) that I did not at y^e first frame my affections to their fancies, disdayned now to looke at me, and forsooke me, saying. The braue beautie of this Lady is gone and turned to a bleacke hew, and the glory of her enflaming desires is nowe extincte. Wherefore shall I hyde that from you (fayre Ladies) which dooth not onely gréeue mee to re­hearse, but generally all Women to heare. I say therefore, that although it was the greatest gréefe in y^e world to think, that my Panphilus was not present, for whose sake my then excellent beauty was most déere vnto me, yet in such vpbrai­ding sort to heare that I had lost it, it was no lesse then pre­sent death to my soule. And besides all these things, I remē ­ber that béeing sometimes inuited to such feastes, I haue béene drawne perforce into the company of many pleasaunt Ladies, diuersly discoursing amongst themselues of amo­rous conceits, where with willing eare, harkning what is­sue infinite Louers haue had in theyr hote passages, I easily perceiued, that there was neuer any of thē tormented wyth so feruent passions, as I am: nor their loue besette wyth so many miseryes, nor contriued with such secrecy, as mine was. Although that of more happy & fortunate Louers, and of lesse honourable loues also the number is greater. In this sort therefore, sometimes eying, and sometimes gyuing eare to that which was doone and spoken in these places, like a pensiue and sadde Woman I passed away the weary time. After that the Ladies and Gentlewomen, had rested them­selues a prettie while, it happened that many braue yonge Gentlemen rysing vppe, and amongst other Gentlewomen inuited me oftentimes to daunce, but as often in vain went from me againe. Who remaining neuerthelesse in theyr dis­ports (with mindes frée from heauy thoughtes, and high in­tentions) [Page] some mooued with desire to shew perhappes theyr greatest cunning, and others pricked on thereunto by spurs of hote and burning loue, but all very curious in the same, my selfe sitting by my selfe alone, with a scornefull minde and coy lookes, didde marke the newe fashioned trickes, the gesture, and behauiour of many Gentlewomen there. And certes I blamed some in my minde, although I greatly desi­red (if it might haue béene) to doo as they did, if my Panphi­lus had béen present there. Who, as oftentimes as his déere remembraunce came to my dolefull minde, so often was it sufficient matter, and the onely occasion of my new melan­cholie and fresh sorrowes: and who dooth not (as the Gods know) deserue the great loue, which continually I haue borne, and yet doo still beare him. But after that wyth no small griefe I had a great while beheld these daunces, which with the suddaine sursaults of other gréeuous thoughtes sée­ming vnpleasaunt and tedious vnto mee, vrged as it were with some other busines, I rose vppe moste willingly from my place, and to burst a sunder my heaped and swelling sor­rowes (whose open and suddaine discouery I greatly fea­red) I gotte my selfe smoothly away into a sollitary & secret place,Greefe is reclaymed by lamen­tation. and there giuing full scope and leaue to my flowing teares, I acquited my foolish eyes, for all the vanities that they had séene, with an austere and due guerdō, which were not distrayned from thē without many bitter wordes, kind­led with burning anger, but knowing also my miserable fortune to be so cruell towards me, I remember that somtimes I began thus to inueye against her, saying.

The properties of For­tune.O fearefull Fortune, mortall ennemie to euery happye creature, and onely hope of miserable menne. Thou the sud­daine chaunger of kingdoms, and of mundane thinges, doost as a helper with one hand lift vppe, and as a destroyer wyth the selfe same throwe downe againe, as thy indiscréete iudg­ment doth direct thy inconstant will, not content to be who­ly any ones, exalting him aloft in one thing, or els in an o­ther, casting him vtterly down, or, after that thou hast made him happy by any lent felicitie, dost heape vpon his mynde [Page 61] new and vncouth cares, because that worldly menne liuing in continuall want and néede, may (according to their vaine opinion, & their endlesse pride) implore thy helpe, and adore thy deity. Yet art thou still blinde and deafe, disdayning to behold the manifest miseries, and refusing to lysten to the complaintes of miserable creatures, triumphing onely with those, whome thou hast vnworthely (perhaps) exalted. Who embracing thy fréendly fauours, and honouring thée with al theyr deuotions, whilest with a smiling looke and flattering promise thou art entertaining them, euen on a sodaine with some vnexpected accident or other, finde themselues vtterly throwen downe by thée, and then (though to late) doo misera­blie perceiue, how thou hast changed thy serene smiles into froward frownes.

Amongst the number of which, my selfe (wretched wo­man) may be put, who not knowing of my owne parte any mallice wrought against thée, and ignoraunt of any hey­nous offence and indignitie whatsoeuer perpetrated, by me against thée, that might reduce thée to so seuere a re­uenge, am most vnworthely and pittifully punished. Alas whosoeuer reposeth trust in great and mightie thinges, and like a puissant Prince ruleth in high and stately pallaces, applying alwaies his quiet and credulous mind to ioyfull and pleasaunt obiectes? Let him cast his eyes vpon me, and be­holde howe from a high and renowmed Lady of felicity, I am nowe become a most low and wretched handmaide of fortune, and (which is worse then this) how cruelly I am re­iected and disdained of the onely lord and maister of my sub­iected heart.

Ah Fortune, thou diddest neuer giue any more effectuall example of thy vnconstant mutabilitie, then my selfe, if that with a perfect and sound minde my first & latter condition of life be wel considered. I was receiued of thée fickle fortune of thée (false Fortune) was I receiued into this world, in abun­dant quantitie of goods (if nobilitie, riches, honors, & dignitie be any parte of them) which were moreouer by thy bounti­full and large handes (which thou diddest neuer yet with­drawe [Page] from them) daylie and copiously augmented. So that (in sooth) like a mightie Ladie I dyd continually possesse them, as mutable thinges vse them, and beyonde the com­mon course of womens couetous nature, did liberally im­parte them to others.

But being ignoraunt Fortune, that thou wert also the same, which with vnequall passions and carefull thoughtes dyddest surcharge the minde, and not knowing, that thou haddest also a great portion in looue hys Signories, I fell in looue as thou wouldest, and with that young Gentleman whome thou onely, and none else, diddest then present bée­fore my wretched eyes, when I thought my selfe farthest from any such daunger. Whome after that with strong and intricate knottes thou dyddest perceiue that he was bound in the Circle of my heart, thou hast (vnstable and chaung­ing often times) sought to worke my harme, and wreake thy vndeserued iniuries vppon mée, sometimes disturbing our linked myndes with vayne and deceytfull imaginati­ons, yea, and sometimes our eyes with pittifull and publick glaunces, because our looue made manifest, might bée hurt­full vnto vs.

And I am certayne, that many times thou hast beene (euen as thou wouldest thy selfe) the onely cause, that many displeasaunt and discrepaunt wordes of my belooued young Gentleman haue come to my eares, and hast with myne of lyke consequence filled his againe, able enough (being credi­ted) to haue engendred hatred and discorde, and to haue ha­zarded a sodaine mislike, but their issue, and thy driftes were neuer aunswerable to thy determinations. Because admitte, thou doost as a Goddesse gouerne all exteriour thin­ges, as it pleaseth these, the vertues of thy minde are neuer the more subiect to thy might.

That which fortune cā ­not bring to passe by right, she dooth by worng.Our wisedome hath continually gonne beyond thy wi­linesse in this poynte. But what dooth it auaile for all this to oppose it against thée, since thou hast a thousand slights to endomage thy enemies. And that which thou canst not bring to passe by right, thou doost contend to worke by wrong. Not [Page 62] able to sowe the séedes of mallice and enuie in our hartes, thou hast indeuoured to inculcate into thē thinges of lyke e­fecte and predicament, and besides this to repleate thē with the greatest gréefe & anguish of minde. Thy industries adnihilated heretofore and made frustate by our prouident wis­dome, were strengthened againe by thy other fraudulent forces and péeuishe waies, and as a peruerse enemie, as well to hym as to mée, thou hast practised the meanes with thy o­minous accidentes, by long distaunce of place to deuide vs both a sunder.

Alas when I would haue thought that in so straunge a place, so farre distaunt from this, and deuided from mée by such great Seas, so many high hilles, wyde féeldes, vallies and playnes, and by so manie great riuers, the onely source and cause of all woes should (by thy meanes) be sprong vp, and growe styll? Truely neuer. But yet it is so, and for all that though he be farre from mée, and I from him, I doubte not, but that in despite of thée Fortune he looueth mée, as I looue him, whom aboue all thinges else in the world I doo most déerely estéeme.

But to what ende and effect dooth this looue serue more, then if we were eyther mere straungers, or mortall ene­mies. Alas nothing at all to no purpose else. Our wittes and policie therefore preuailed naught against thy contra­dictions. Thou hast caryed away with hym all my de­light, all my good, and all my ioye: and with these my merry times, feastes, and pastimes, my gorgious attyre, my péerelesse beautie, and my pleasaunt lyfe. In lue whereof thou hast left mée dollours, gréefe and sorrowe. But yet thou couldest neuer make mée relinquishe his looue, no nor is thy might so great, (as great it is) to make mée by inter­mediate fyttes onely fancy hym. Alas if I, béeing yet but young, had committed any thing agaynst thy Godheade, the simplicitie of my vnrypened yéeres, should haue excused my rawe defectes. But if thou wouldest neuerthelesse take some reuenge vpon me. Wherefore diddest thou not wreake it vp on thy owne thinges.

To put ones Sickle in an others Corne.Thou hast iniustly (Fortune) put thy Sickle in an others Corne. For what hast thou to doo orto entermedle thy lawes with looue his matters? I haue most high and strong tow­ers, most fayre and ample féeldes, many heardes of Cattel, and great store of treasure, which with thyne owne handes thou hast bountifully bestowed on mée, wherefore with con­suming flames, deuouring waters, cruel rapine, and saccage and wherefore with vnluckie death diddest not thou extend thy wrath vpon them? Thou hast left me those things, which may no more auaile for my consolation, then Mydas his gol­den fauour, which he receyued of Bacchus for his pinchinge hunger: and hast transported onely him away, whome I ac­counted déerer then Gold, then gemmes, then ritch palaces, yea more then infinite worldes, of wealth. Accursed therfore be those amorous arrowes, which presumed to be reuenged of Phaebus, and which nowe sustaine such base iniuries by thée.

Alas if these had neuer pricked thée, as now they pearce mée, with better aduise (perhappes) and with more mature deliberation thou wouldest molest thy loouinge associates. But beholde thou hast wronged mée, and brought mée to this extreame poynte, that of the richest, noblest, and highest La­die, I am become the most miserable and vnfortunate wo­man in all my countrie, and this cruell fortune thou séest to well approoued in mée. Euery one dooth reioyce & spend their times in merry feastes and glée, and onely I doo stil lament, and waste my youth in endlesse moane, which kinde of lyfe is not now begun, but hath so long endured, that me thinkes thy mercilesse anger should haue béene ere this tyme some­what mittigated.

But I forgiue thée all, if of pittie or of curtesy thou wilt let mée fauourably enioy the swéete company of my Panphilus againe, as thou hast not without great gréefe deuyded him from mée. And if perhappes thy anger dooth yet endure, let it be satiated vpon the glory of my goods and possessions. Alas cruell as thou art, let my vnhappy and poore condition of lyfe gréeue thée, and mooue thée to commiseration of my [Page 63] calamities. Thou séest that I am become such an one, that as a fable to the common people, I am carryed from mouth to mouth, whereas my seuerall beauties with solemne fame and with swéete prayses were wont to be blazoned euerie where. Beginne therefore gentle Fortune at the last to be pittifull towardes me, because I may with gratefull and re­uerend titles (my selfe enabled iustly to prayse to thée) inces­santlie honour thy mighty maiesty.

To whose prayers if thou doost open a gratious eare, and wilt not rigorously denie the easie effectes of so reasonable a demaunde, then for euer doo I vowe (and herewithall let the immortall Goddes beare recorde) to erecte to thée the liuely Image of my selfe, preciously adorned, and gloriously sette foorth in euery place and Temple (dedicated and most déere to thée) in token of thy perpetuall honour, and euerlasting fame. Which with neuer dying memoriall of thy miracu­lous pittie subscribed with these wordes. (This is Fiammet­ta lifted vppe of Fortune from the deepe pitte of extreme miserie, to the highest toppe of happy ioy) as shalbe publi­shed to the open sight and viewe of all the world. Oh howe many other things also did I often times declaime with my selfe, to recount which, would be but a longe and tedious la­bour, but all were bréefelie ended and resolued into bitter teares, by meanes of which, sometimes it fell out, that bée­ing perceiued of other gentlewomen, and with many com­fortable words chéered vp by them, I was much against my will caryed to these festiuall daunces.

But who would thinke it possible (amorous Ladies) that such anguish and gréefe should so vsurpe a young Gentlewomans heart, that there was nothing,There is nothing that maketh a miserable loouer glad but the same is an occasion of greater greefe a­gaine one way or an other, whych coulde not one­lie not make it merrie, but that the same was an occasion of greater sorrowe, which cannot but séeme incredible to all, though not to mée miserable woman, that hath proo­ued it, dooth féele it, and dooth know it to be to true.

It came to passe manie tymes that the weather (accor­ding to the season of the yéere) béeing verie whot many o­ther Gentlewomen and my selfe, because we might the [Page] better passe it away, vpon most swifte Boates, winged on euery side with flashing Oares, wée plowed the gentle waues of the calme Sea, singing sometimes, and with play­ing sometimes on diuers Instrumentes, went rowinge vp and downe to séeke out sollytarie and opacall Rockes, deuided from the maine shore, entring sometimes into hol­lowe caues, at the footes of stéepe hilles, made by nature it selfe, vnder which, (béeing most freshe for wynde, and coole shadowes) wée dyd many tymes sitte and passe away the heate of the day.

The fier of the minde dooth not receiue any refreshing or case by exteriour thinges.These were alas, especiall and chéefe remedies offered to mée, to refrigerate the corporall heate of my bodie onelye, but they lent mée not any newe ease of those neuer ceasing sorows, and no extinguishment at all of those flames, which burned my soule inwardlie, but dyd rather bereaue mée of such néedefull helpes, because the outward heate being now past (which to delicate and tender bodyes is doubtlesse no small annoy) by and by a more ample and fitte place was made for amorous and tedious thoughts, which are not onelie the preseruing matter of Venus flames, but a forcible substaunce augmenting the same.

Béeing therefore come to these places which wée hadde sought out, and shrowding our selues vnder them for our refreshing and delight, we went (whether our mindes dyd leade vs) vp and downe, viewing héere and there this com­panie and that of young gentlemen and gentlewomen, with goodly troopes of which, euery little Rocke, Banke and san­die shore, (which were by the shadowe of any hill defended from the scorching heate of the Sunne beames) not other­wyse then a gréene Meddowe with fayre and plenteous flowers) were almost al couered. O what intensiue pleasure and how great a delight is this to thē, that haue their hartes frée from the molesting passions of looue. There might bée séene in many places fayre tables set, and white and fyne Diaper clothes spred vpon them, and all thinges so exquisit­ly doone, and with such, ornament, magnificence, glory & cost, that the very sight onely of them had sufficient force to pro­uoke [Page 64] any, ones minde, and appetite, were it neuer so melancolicke demisse or drwsie, but only mine, which was to much soked in sorrowe. There might in other places (as cōuenient time did require, diuers others haue béene séene, how mere­lie they went to their morning repastes, of whome our companie (as wée dyd them againe) with chéerefull countenan­ces, and curteous entreaties was inuited to theyr feastes and sportes.

But after that wée had (as the rest also) with great feastes banquetted our selues, and after that (the tables béeing taken away we had daunced certaine Neapolitane rounds, and then (after our accustomed manner) had embarqued our selues againe, wee went by and by rowing vppe and downe in this créeke, and that Cliffe, wherein certaine se­crete and by places of the Sea shore, to the gazing eyes of euery curious and wanton young Gentleman were shew­ed delightfull and desired sightes, which was: many fayre and young Gentlewomen stript into their Wastcoates of white Satten without sléeues, and without hose or shooes, swimming, and sollacing themselues in the coole water. And gathering Shel-fishe amongest these cliffes and harde rockes, in stooping downe to take them vppe, did often tymes discouer theyr round and snowe white balles of their delicate and fruitefull bodies. And in some places againe there were others, who with more subtile and with greater industrie, with trammelles, dragges, flewes, & with all ma­ner of nettes and diuers others y^t with angles (to the great delight of the beholders) and with manie newe deuises more and prettie artes, deceiued the sillie and simple fishe. But what néede I trouble my selfe to declare euery particuler pastime and pleasure which was practised and taken there? Let them (though they goe not thether at all) imagine the lyke, that haue exercised themselues, or haue any vnder­standing in such thinges, how many, and of what force they are to recreate the minde. And if they goe thether, when they shall sée nothing else, but mirth, and sollace, and all kind of youthfull disportes.

There the open mindes of euery one are frée from sorrow­full passions, the occasions of the contrary béeing so manie and so great that there is scarce a deniall of any demaunde among them.

In these places I confesse (because I would not séeme to bée deuoyde of curtesie, and would not be troublesome to the whole companie) I tooke a visarde of fayned mirth vpon mée, though I was still sayling with contrarie blastes of tempestuous looue and enuious Fortune in those Seas of gréefes and cares, in which since my Panphilus his de­parture I haue continually hulled vp and downe.The greefe of the mind is hardly couered with a merry counte­naunce Which thing howe harde it is to performe, they that haue tryed it, may giue sufficient testimonie thereof. For howe could I be merry in mynde, calling to mynde that I had sometimes séene Panphilus with mée, and my selfe also without hym in lyke pastimes, whome I did nowe by distaunce of many myles know to bée deuyded from me, and besides this with out hope to sée him any more. If I were not troubled with any other gréefe, then onely care and vexation of minde, which continually held me in suspence of many things, was not this sufficient enough to haue confoūded my soule alone? And can it otherwise bée thought, because for as much as the feruent desyre that I had to sée him, had so bereaued me of my true knowledge and vnderstanding, that knowing assuredly that hée was not in those places, yet (as though he was there indéede) I did argue in my minde, and, as if this had béene true, without any contradiction I procéeded far­ther to sée, whether I could espie him out or no. There was not any Boate, Galley, Shippe, or Bregandine (of all which the Sea coastes there was so full, sayling foorth, some com­ming in, some casting and some waying Anker, as the azure skye in a cléere and frosty night loaden with Golden stars) which I dyd not first with myne eyes suruey, and after by my seruauntes search out and knowe whether they went, and from whence they came.

I neuer harde sound of any instrument although I knew him to be skilfull in onely one, to the notes & tune of which [Page 65] I did first giue an attentiue eare, and didde after aske, who he was that played on it, imagining still, that he might pos­sibly be the same, whom I did so carefully séeke after. There was not any pleasaunt Rocke, Coole shoare, or shaddowed Caue, which I had séene, nor any company left vnuisited of me, to sée if happily I might haue found him.

Certes I confesse, that sometimes this vnfayned & vain hope did abolish a great part of my sighes, which sighes, (af­ter that it was gone from mee) amassed together in the con­cauitie of my braine,Fiammetta her sighes turned into teares issu­ed out of her eyes whose naturall issue was to haue béene breathed forth, conuerted nowe into bitter & brinish teares, were by the conduits of my sorrowfull eyes powred foorth, and so the counterfett ioyes, were turned into confected and true anguish of mind.

Our pleasant Cittie, surpassing all other Citties in I­talie, that are held famous for noble feastes & royal shewes,Naples doth not onely exhillirate her Cittizens with generous and solemne Nuptials, refresh them with diuers swéete walkes, Crystaline Ryuers, delightsome sea sands, pleasant shoares, and gréene bancks, but copious also in many goodly sports, as sometimes with one publique and sumptuous spectacle, and now with another princely and solemne show, doth reioyce her peoples harts, and stir them vppe to excéeding and gene­rall gladnes. But amongst all other pastymes, in the which it doth appeare to the world most famous, in Tylt and iour­ney (which is almost daylie exercised there) and generally in all feates of armes, it is chiefely renowned. This there­fore was wont to be an auncient custome amongst vs (after that the tempestious and stormie blasts of shaking Winter are past,A descrip­tion of Springtide and the merry Springtide with her newe flowers and gréene grasse, hath brought againe to the world her tre­passed beauties, the vigour also and courage of yonge lustye Lordes and Gentlemenne, béeing by the quallitie and sea­son of the time rekindled, and their amorous hartes more prompt then before, to discouer their feruent desires) that at the greatest and most stately houses of noble men, y^e brauest most honourable Ladyes, shyning in glittering golde, and a­dorned [Page] with their most precious and rare Iewels, did with these, franckly assent to méete ioyfully together. I doo not thinke, that to beholde King Priam his Daughters in Lawe, with many other of the Phrygian Ladyes, when attired and beautified in the brauest sorte, they presen­ted themselues, and came before their Father in Lawe, and soueraigne, to daunce, to feast, and to make merry, was either a more rich, or goodly sight, then for to sée in many pla­ces of our Cittie, the maiesticall méetinges and braue assem­blies of celestiall demigoddesses in y^e same, which, after that in fayre troupes they came to the puplike Theaters (euery one to the vtmost of her power, shewing her self most braue, and making her selfe most beautifull) I doubt not, but if a­ny Gentleman stranger, but indifferently conceited & iudici­ous, had arriued there (hauing considered their haughty coū ­tenaunces, their noble behauiour, and viewed their costly ap­parrell and rich ornaments, rather princelike then conueni­ent for manie (nay most) Gentlewomen there, woulde not haue iudged them women of this latter age, but would haue thought, that some of those auncient and magnificent Ladies had béene returned againe to the world: Saying with him­selfe.

Shee for her statelines doth resemble Semiramis. Thys other (gaying on her sumptuous apparrell and Iewelles) woulde rather bee déemed Cleopatra. An other (considering her courtlie and louelie graces) he would haue compared to faire Hellen. And another (viewing well her gesture and swéete actions in his mind) he would affirme not to bee vn­like to Quéene Dido. Wherefore procéede I thus in compa­rison of them all. Euery one by her selfe would rather séeme a diuine maiestie, then any humaine matter. And how often times haue I (miserable Womanne) before I had loste my Panphilus, hearde many yonge Gentlemen deskant vppon my selfe, contending to whither of these two I might haue béene best compared: To the Virgine Polixena, or to Venus of Cipres.

Some of them saying, that it was too much to compare [Page 66] me to a Goddesse, and others alledging the contrary, sayde, that it was too little to resemble me to an earthly and mor­tall woman. There was not amongst so great and noble cō ­pany anie of them remaining long in their places, nor graue silence was kept there.

But the olde and auncient Gentlemenne rysing vppe to beholde the lusty yong Gentlemenne, howe louingly some of them (taking the coy Gentlewomen by their delicate hands to daunce) did amorously discourse with them according to the desires of their fancies, and howe othersome wyth tuned voice, and melodious instrument desciphered the effectes of his amorous passions. And in this sort was the hotest parte of the day spent in all manner of noble sportes, and glée that might be deuised.

And after that the Sunne hath once begun to send forth his beames cooler then before,A descripti­on of Au­tume. Italy. then doo the honourable Prin­ces of our Ausonian kingdome méete together in that habit, as their high estate doth require. Who (after that they haue behelde the diuine graces of euery Ladye, and fedde theyr gréedie eyes with euery Gentlewomans beautie, and mar­ked well their dauncing, cōmending some more, some lesse, but all generally, going away with almost all the Knightes and Gentlewomenne (as well maryed, as vnmaried men) after a little while in great and most braue companies, with rich and new fashioned apparrell, and cleane contrary to the reste, with Masques, and other goodly shewes they returne backe againe.

What tongue is there, be it neuer so famous for golden eloquence, and choyse words, or witt, neuer so much commē ­ded for excellent sentences & exquisite inuention, that coulde perfectlye or perticulerlye sette downe the Noble and gor­geous Habittes, and the sundrye braue sutes of apparrell, (as pleasaunt for varietye, as wonderfull for magnifi­cence) which was seene there?

Not Homer certes, so woorthy amongst the Grecians, nor Virgill so highly praised of the Latines, which with stately verse did write y^e infinit aduentures, and accidents, which [Page] bothe those noble menne, and which the Grecians, Troy­ans and Italians, had of yore in their open warres, priuate peace, and stratagemes. I will therefore endeuour to make a bréefe relation of them to those Women, who did openlye neuer sée thē performed, which description shall not so vain­ly be inserted in this my pittifull discourse, & not to so small purpose, but that the wiser sort of Women, may comprehend my sorrow beyond any womans past or present, to be with­out pause or relaxation still continuated: since that with the admirable dignity of so many princely showes & rare sights, it coulde not by any merrye meane (were it neuer so little time) bee broaken from that cleauing and cloying gréefe. I say therefore (to come to the matter) that our noble Princes and valiant Lords, were mounted vppon Coursers of Na­ples, and Spanish Gennets, so passing swift in running, that anie other beast whatsoeuer, yea the very winds themselues (although they made neuer so much spéede) they woulde in course (inuisible almost) leaue behind.

Whose youth and lusty yéeres, comely fauour, and ap­prooued magnanimitie and courage, made them passing gra­tious, and renowned in euery Gentlewomans eye & mouth. They came prauncing forward on their barded horses, with caparisons of purple and crymosin Sattin, curiously embro­dered with fine threddes of shyning Gold, and with clothe of the same artificially wouen by Indian handes, with strange workes of diuers colours, intermingled, filled and bordered with Gold, pearle, and precious stones. Whose silken softe, and louely locks, hanging downe vppon their stately shoul­ders, were tyed round about with a fine billement of Golde, besette with Diamonds, Rubyes, and Emeraulds, and with many other gemmes, or els with a little Garlande of gréene Laurell,A discripti­on of Tylt and giuoco di canne much vsed of the Spa­niards.hauing on his left hand a light shield, and bearing a strong Launce in his right hand, at sound of Tuscane trum­pets making furious and couragious encounters eyther one against another, or many against many, after the Morysco guise, but generally in the moste braue and admirable sorte, before the noble Ladies and Gentlewomen beginne theyr [Page 67] heroycall sports. Commending him most,Italians and Mores.who with y^e point of his Launce caryed néerest to the grounde, and closely cou­ched vnder his shielde, without any disordered motion of his body in the saddle, did shewe himselfe in running on his fie­ry stéede.

To such kind of feastes and pleasaunt shewes, as I was euer wont (poore and miserable Fiammetta) I was also in­uited, and certes not without great gréefe vnto mee, because beholding these pastimes, it came to my minde, that I hadde whilome séene my Panphilus sitting amongst our more aun­cient and reuerende olde Gentlemenne, to beholde such like spectacles: whose sufficiencie (according to the admirable grauitie of his youth) deserued so high a place. And somtimes standing (as yong Pretextatus amongst the noble and graue Senators of Rome) with the foresayde robed Knightes, to iudge of these pastimes, amongst whom, one for his autho­rity was like vnto Sceuola, another for his grauitie to ey­ther of the Catos, and some of so pleasant and delectable coū ­tenaunces, that they séemed Pompey the great, or Marcus Marcellus, and others of so sterne and martiall lookes, that they séemed liuely to represent the worthy Affricane Scipio or Quintus Cyncinnatus: al the which equally, and eagerlie beholding the running of euery one, and calling to minde theyr yong and lusty passed yéeres, pricked to the quick with glory of honour and courage, and muttering and fretting to themselues, sometimes commended one, and sometimes an­other, Panphilus affirming all their sayings, and allowing theyr censures. Of whom sometimes I heard, howe he com­pared (talking of this and that, now with one, and now with another) and howe he resembled all those valiaunt Champi­ons that did runne, to the yong and old renowned Heroes of the other worlds.

O howe déere a thing was this to my eares, as well for him that spake it, as for them that attentiuely gaue eare vn­to it, and also for my Cittizens sake, of whom it was spoken. So much truly, that the remembraunce thereof, is yet verie gratefull vnto mee. Of our yong Princes, whose heroycall [Page] countenaunces bewraid their hardy and couragious minds, he was wont to say, that one was like to Arcadius of Par­thenope, of whom it is reported, and firmely beléeued, that none came better appointed, and more resolute to the de­struction of Thebes, at what time his mother sent him the­ther, béeing but a yong youth. The next after he confessed to be like swéete Ascanius, of whom Virgill (a singuler recorde of so braue a youth) wrot so many golden verses. Compa­ring the third to Deiphobus, and the fourth for beautye to Ganimedes.

Then comming to those of ryper age, that folowed these, he gaue them no lesse perfect and pleasant semblaunces. For there might you sée one comming along, with a ruddy co­lour and a red beard, and with soft, bushy, and crysped locks falling downe vppon his strong and slightly shoulders, and (no otherwise then Hercules was wont to haue) bounde vp with a fine little garland of gréene leaues, apparrailed with costly garments of silke, occupying no more roome, then the iust quantitie of his bodye, garnished with sundry braue workes wrought with skilfull hande, with a Mantle vppon his right shoulder, fastened together with a button of Gold, and with a faire and rich shielde couering his left side, and carrying in his ryght hand a light speare, as was moste fitte for that sport, whom he said, that he was in gesture, and coū ­tenaunce, like to great Hector. After whom an other cōming along, adorned in like Habits, and with as stoute a counte­naunce as the other, hauing caste vp the golden fringed bor­der of his Mantle vppon his shoulder, with his lefte hande cunningly managing his vnruly horse, hee iudged an other Achilles. Another folowing him, shaking his threatninge Launce, and carrying his targe behind his back, hauing hys soft hayre tyed together with a fine vayle (giuen him per­haps of his Ladie) he called Protesilaus. After whome ano­ther folowing with a fine Hatte on his head, of a browne co­lour in his face, and with a long bearde, and of a fierce coun­tenaunce, he called Pyrrhus.

And another after him with a more milde looke, and [Page 68] with a swéete and smooth face, and more gorgiously adorned then the rest, he thought to resemble Parris of Troy, or king Menelaus.

What néede I prolong my narration about this royall ranck any further. In briefe, as they passed in that long and goodly company, he shewed who was like to Agamemnon, who to Aiax, who to Vlisses, who to Diomedes, or to any o­ther Grecian, Troyan, or Latine, woorthy of eternall prayse and memory. Neyther did he giue them these names méere­ly of his owne pleasure, but conferring and confirming hys arguments with acceptable reasons about the manner of these paragoned Lords, did shew that they were duely and woorthely compared vnto them. Wherefore the hearing of these reasons was no lesse pleasant, then to sée the very same personnes by whome and for whome hee spake and framed them.

The gallant troupe therefore of Horsemen, after ryding thrée or foure times with easie pace vppe and down, to shew themselues to the lookers on, couragiously beganne theyr fierce courses, and standing almost right vppe in theyr styr­rops, brauely couched vnder their Targets, with the points of their Launces carryed so euen as they séemed to shaue the grounde,The order of those that runne a Tyltswifter then the swiftest winde their horses carry­ed them away. And the ayre resounding with the shootes of the people that stoode by, and the iangling of the siluer and golden belles, that euery horse was almost trapped withall, the noyse also of Trumpets, and of other martiall instru­ments, the flapping and smyting of y^e caparisons against the horses sides, and of their bases in the ayre, and the flyttering of theyr Mantles also against the winde, did prick on theyr fiery steedes, to a more hote, brauer, swifter, and more cou­ragious course.

And thus euery one wyth greate delight and ioye, con­tinually beholding them, and marking the order of theyr courses, they made themselues to bee woorthely admyred, and not vnwoorthely praysed in the secrete harts, and open mouthes of all the spectators.

Howe many Ladies and Gentlewomen (some one sée­ing her Husbande amongst these heere, another her Louer, and some their neere Kinsmen) did I sée many time clappe their hands, and most highly reioyce at the dexteritie & cou­rage of their fréendes? Not a fewe truely. And not onelye these, but straungers also: my selfe onely excepted: who (al­though I sawe my Husbande there, and other of my kindred with him) with sorrowfull chéere did beholde him, not séeing my Panphilus there. And when I remembred how farre off he was from me.

Alas good Ladyes, is not this a meruailous thing, that that which I sée, should be the materiall cause and substance of my sorrow? And that nothing may make me merry. Alas what soule is there in hell, neuer so much tormented wyth endles payne, that séeing these thinges, coulde not but féele some respectiue ioy? Why, not one at all (I think.) For they rauished with the swéetnesse of Orpheus his harpe, forgotte for a time their cruell paines and torments. But I, sette in the mids of a thousand torments, and placed amongst a thousande ioyes, and continually exercised in many and sundrye kinds of sports, cannot (I say) burie my gréefe in momen­tary obliuion, nor asswage and lighten it, be it neuer so little a while. And put case that sometimes at those feastes, & such like, I haue with an vnfained and true countenaunce hidde it, and haue giuen respect to my tedious sighes, in the night afterwards, when I did finde my selfe all alone, I did pro­long, not pardon any part of my teares, but didde powre out rather so many of them, as the day before I had spared, and kept in scalding sighes. And these thinges inducing mee to more pensiue and percing thoughts, and especially in consi­dering their vanities, more apt and possible to hurte, then to helpe, as by proofe of them I doo manifestly knowe, the feaste béeing finished, and my selfe going from it, and not wythout cause complayning and waxing angrye against these vayne shadowes, and all other worldly showes, I beganne thus to say.

Oh howe happy is that innocent man, who dwelleth in [Page 69] the sollitarie village, enioying onely the open ayre?The prayse of a solitary life, Who employing his sole care and labour to inuent subtill ginnes for simple beastes, and to make nettes for vnwarie birdes, with gréefe of mynde can neuer be wounded. And if per­happes he suffer any great wearines in his body in casting him selfe downe vpon the gréene grasse, incontinently he re­fresheth him selfe againe, chaunging his place sometimes in the freshe riuer bankes, and sometimes vnder the coole sha­dowe of some great woode, where the chirping birdes with theyr prettie songes, and the softe trembling of the greene leaues, (shaken by some pleasaunt, and little wynde, as staying themselues to harken to their siluer notes) lull him swetlie a sléepe.

Ah Fortune haddest thou graunted me such a lyfe, (to whome thy desired giftes are but a cloging care, and detri­ment,) it had béen better for me. Alas how my high Palaces, sumptuous beddes, treasure, and great familie any thing profitable, and how little pleasaunt vnto me, when my mind surcharged with ouer much anxyetie, and wandring in vn­knowen countries after Panphilus, cannot haue any small rest, nor when any comfortable respiration may be graūted to my wearied and breathlesse soule? Oh howe delightfull and gratious a thing is it, to presse the gréene and swéet bankes of the swift running riuers, with a quiet and frée mind, and vpon the naked turfes to fetche a sound and vnbroken sléepe, which the glyding riuer with murmuringe bubles and pleasaunt noyse, without feare dooth nourishe and maintaine. These eases are without any grudge, graunted to the poore inhabitaunt of the countrie village fréely to enioye, and are a great deale more to bée desired then those toyes, which with many flattering words I haue often times faw­ned on, and haue with such dilligent and daily care embra­ced, (as the fine dames of the Citties vse commonly to doo,) and which at last with the carelesse coyle of the tumultuous familie or negligentlie broken. His hunger (if at any time perhappes it pricke him (with geathering of Apples in the faythfull and secure woodes, hée dooth driue away, and ma­nie [Page] young and tender herbes, which the wyde Champaig­nes, or little hilles of theyr owne frée will bring forth, are also a most sauorie and swéete sustenaunce vnto him. Oh in how many running brookes, Christalyne fountaines, and swéete waters, lying downe all along may hee quench his thyrste, and with the hollowe of his hande in cléere and stre­ming riuers? Ah wicked and pinching care of worldlings, for whose sustentation nature dooth require but little, & dooth prepare light things. We thinke with the infinite number and sundrie sorts of delicate vyandes to fill the gourmandise of our bodies, and to please our queasie appetites, not percey­uing at all, that in them there lie hidden the very causes, by meanes of which the ordinate humors and good bloode are euer more corrupted, then nourished.

And how many times in cuppes of gold and siluer, richlie garnished with gemmes and precious stones, in stéede of swéete and delicious wines, doo wée daily heare that colde and swelling poysonnes are tasted, and doo howerly sée, that in hotte wines and compound drinckes, licentious, vnbride­led and wicked lust is drunke and throwen headlong down. Whereupon, commonly they fall by meanes of these into a superfluous securitie: which by wicked wordes, or damned déedes, dooth bringe to them a miserable lyfe, or dooth paye them home with a most contemptible death, seeing moreouer by daily proofe, that these kinds of vnkinde beuerages make the drinkers bodies in a great deale wor­ser,Poeticall conceites, and more miserable case then starke madde. The Satires Faunes, Driades, Naiades, and the Nimphes kéepe him faithfull and simple company.

Hée dooth not knowe what Venus dooth meane, nor cannot skyll of her byformed Sonne: And if hée dooth per­happes knowe her, hee perceiueth her beautie to bee but base, and little amyable. Nowe (alas) would it had pleased the Goddes, that I had lykewise neuer knowen it, and that kéeping simple and playne company,) I had lyued a rusti­call and rude lyfe to my selfe all alone.

Then should these vncurable gréefs haue béene far from me [Page 70] which I now sustaine, and my soule,The pompe of the world like to the winde, together with my most holy name, should not haue cared, nor desired to see these worldly pompes and feastes, lyke to the flying windes and vanishing smoke in the ayre, nor (if it had séene them) should haue béene so full of anguishe and sorrowe as now it is. The desire of hygh and princely towers, of rich and sumptuous houses, of great families, and costly traynes, of fayre and delicate beddes, of shining cloathes of golde and siluer, of pam­pered, proude, and swifte horses, and of a thousand other su­perfluities of nature, dooth neuer disturbe his temperate minde, nor clogges his heart with buderning and burning care to kéepe them. Not accompanied, nor sought after of wicked men, he dooth without feare liue in quiet and seque­stred places, and without séeking doubtfull rest in high and stately lodginges, dooth demaunde onely the open ayre and light for his repose.

And of the manner of his lyfe the wyde firmament is a manyfest and continuall witnesse. Oh how much is this life nowe a dayes vnknowen, and lyke an enemie escheued and contemned of euery one, whereas it should be rather as the déerest and swéetest content followed and embraced of all. Truely I suppose that the fyrst age of the world lyued in this sorte, which péese-meale brought foorth Goddes and men.

There is no lyfe (alas) more frée, nor more deuoyde of vyce, or better then this: the which our first fathers enioyed, and with which also he is this day of all others best conten­ted, who abandoning the opulent and vicious Citties, inha­byteth the priuate and peaceable woodes. O what a worlde had it béene, if Iupiter had neuer driuen Saturne a waie, and if the Golden age had contynued styll vnder a chaste lawe, because wée might all lyue like to our primitiue pa­rentes of the first worlde.

Alas, whosoeuer he be, that dooth this day obserue the first and auncient riches, euen he (I say) is not inflamed with the blynde rage of haplesse and helplesse Venus as I am, nor he, who hath resolued with hym selfe to dwell in Woodes, [Page] hilles, or dales, was euer subiect to any carefull kingdome, not to the wauering wynde of the vnconstant populare, not to the suffrages, oppinions, and censures of the trothlesse common people, not the infectious plagues and enuious pes­tilences, nor to the frayle fauour also of blind and incon­siderate Fortune, in all which my selfe (hauing put to much trust, looue, and studie, in the middest of the waters like Tantalus) doo dye with endlesse thirste. To little thinges great rest is aforded, although it bee a harde matter without the greater to be able to sustaine y^e lyfe. But he, whose thoughts are turmoyled about great thinges, or dooth desire to ouer­rule great matters: the same man (I say) dooth euermore fol­lowe the vaine honours of vading riches.What they are that follow riches. And highe styles, and magnificent titles, please for the most part false and deceytfull men. But he is frée from feare, and doubt, and can not decerne of the malicious man, swelling in rancour & cancred enuie, nor of the backbiter by his venemous tongue and viperous téeth, who dwelleth in the simple and solita­rie woodes and féelds. And is also ignoraunt of the sundrie hatreds, and incurable woundes of looue, and the abhomina­ble sinnes of the people committed one against an other in the Citties, and liueth without feare of breach of lawes, and cléere of suspicion to be guiltie of ryottes, and mutinies, and beateth not his branes to forge fayned tales and to vse de­ceitfull wordes, which are notes to entrappe men of pure faith and playne dealing. But the other, while he is alofte, is neuer without feare, or perrill, suspecting continually the verie same sword, that he weareth by his side. Oh how good a thing is it to resist naked, and lying vpon the ground, se­curelie to take his sustenaunce? Neuer or seldome at all, did capitall or great sinnes enter into little cotages. At the first there was no care taken for golde, nor the holy stone, nor God Terminus, was set a bounde or Arbyter to deuyde féeldes from féeldes, and seueralles from commons. With tall and stout shippes they plowed not the vnknowen wa­ues of the Sea, but euery one dyd knowe his proper coastes and bankes, Nor with stronge piles of timber, with déepe [Page 71] ditches, high walles, strong bulwarkes, and rampires dyd they fortifie and compasse about the sides of theyr Citties, nor cruell weapons and rustie armour were scoured vp and made readie to fight, or borne of warriers in those daies, neither had they any Enginnes, or deuellishe deuises which (with great pittie) might ruinate stonie walles, and breake Iron gates in péeces.

And if there was perhappes amongest them any little warre, with naked brest, and vnarmed arme they fought it out, in which the broken bowes of trées, and stones serued them for theyr weapons and pellets. Nor the fine and light speare of horne was armed with Iron, nor the stabbing dag­ger, trenching sworde, and murdering rapyer were gyrt to any of theyr backes, or side: Nor the bushy crest, and prowd plume of colloured wauing feathers dyd adorne the glitte­ring helmettes, and that which in theyr happy daies was the happyest thing of all, was, that Cupid was not yet borne, whereby the chast mynds (violated afterwards with his poysoned dartes, when he first began to flie with swifte winges thorowe the worlde) might liue securely and frée from all tormenting thoughtes. Ah I would the Gods had giuen mée to such a world, the people whereof content with a little, and fearing nothing, followed onely their wilde and and sauadge appetites.

And that of so many great goods, and felicities, that they enioyed, I had not possessed any other, then not be molested with so gréeuous looue, nor to féele so many smootheringe sighes, as now I am, & do now féele, then should I haue liued a more happy life then now I do in this present age, ful of so many poisoned pleasures, vnprofitable ornāents & shadowed pompe. Alas that the wicked furie of gaine, & auarice,Mutations of ages. that headlong and enraged wrath, and that those mindes, which of themselues kindled lothsome luste, and voilated these first bondes, so holy and easie to be kept (giuen of nature her selfe to her people,) And that the thyrst after rule (a bloodie Sunne) came nowe in place, and that the weaker became a pray to the greater and more mightie? Sardanapalus came [Page] nowe in, and first of all made Venus (though of Semiramis it was made more dissolute) more deintie and delicate, and then to Bacchus and Ceres prescribed new orders, and cu­stomes neuer knowen of them before.

Then came in also warlike Mars, who found out newe sleights, and a thousand mortall wayes to death. And then al the world beganne to be contaminated with blacke goare, and the Sea to be tainted with redde riuers of bloode run­ning into it, Then most wicked crymes entred into euerie one his house, & in bréefe there was no great or detestable sin perpetrated without some former and foule example before. Brother killed brother, the father the sonne, and the sonne the father. The husband lay slaine for the faulte, and many times by the proper facte of his wife. And wicked mothers destroyed daily their owne fruite. The infinite crueltie, and endlesse enuie of stepdames, whych continuallie, secréetelie or openlie they beare to their husbandes children, I neede not to alleadge, because theyr effectes, are manyfestlie séene at all times and places.

Ritches therefore brought Pryde, Auarice, Lecherie, Wrath, Gluttonie, Enuie and Slothe, and euery other vyce with them.Looue the worker of all mischefe, And with these aforesayd Fiendes the Captayne and worker of all mischéefe and the onely artificer of all sinnes entred also (dissolute and vnbrydeled Looue I meane,) by whose continuall sieges layde to myserable myndes, infinite Citties ruinated and burnte, doo yet smoake, and for whome all nations haue made mortall vp­rores, and doo yet broyle in the lamentable and endlesse warres.

And the ouerwhelmed and drowned kingdomes by his cruell tyrannie, doo yet oppresse many people. And concea­ling all his other execrable effectes, let those onely, which hée vseth towardes mée, suffise for a manyfest example of his mercilesse mischéefe and crueltie, which doo so sharpely en­uironne me on euery side, that I cannot turne my minde to no other thing, but onely to the gréeuous obiectes of hys immanitie.

Discoursing thus with my selfe, sometimes I thought that, that which I dyd, was wicked in the sight of the iust Gods, and y^t my paynes were annoyous to me without compare.

But many greater offences committed in tymes past, and daily practised by others, made mée (in respect of them) seme but innocent, and the consideration of those paynes, which others endured, (although I beléeued that none passed the lyke gréefe as I dyd, séeing my selfe not to bée the first, nor one alone) dyd so worke in my vnderstanding, that I be­came the stronger to suffer my owne: The which I pray the Goddes determine with hasty death, or else driue them a­way with Panphilus his spéedy returne. Thus therefore pittilesse Fortune, for this kinde of lyfe, or rather for a worse then this, hath lefte mée but small comforte as you) pittifull Ladyes) haue heard.

Which consolation vnderstand it not such, that it was a­ble to make mée forget my sorrow (as others commonly are wont to doo,) for this dyd but onely stoppe my teares (ready to fall out of mine eyes) and did sometimes indéede dissolue my sighes into nothing, without afording me neuerthelesse any other benefit. Prosecuting therefore the pittifull history of my painefull lyfe, I saye, that heretofore with many o­ther young gentlewomen, adorned with singuler beautie, I was neuer wont to omitte any great feast in our Cittie, or which was celebrated in our diuine temples: the which so­lemnities, feasts and triumphes without my presence, the cō pany did account but little worth, & thought them lesse beautified. Which times appointed for thē my waiting women duely knowing to be at hand, were very diligent to solicite and put me in minde of them: and others of my maides also, obseruing their olde order in laying forth, and making ready my noble garmēts, sometimes said to me: with what gown may it please you (good Madam) to adorne your selfe. For the solemnitie of such a feast is to be celebrated this day in the temple, which dooth attend your comming for the onely beu­tifying and accomplishment of it. To whom (alas) I remember y^t sometimes with an angry voice & austere countenance [Page] (turning furiously to thē againe,A troubled minde ca­reth not to goe braue, no otherwise then a tusky Beare dooth to a company of barking Curres) I answered saying. Packe hence the vylest parte of my house, and carry away these ornamentes from my sight. A simple & poore garment is most fitte to couer this miserable bodie, nor let not me héere you any more talke of temples, feastes, and sol­lemnities, if you estéeme of my fauour at all. Oh how many tymes dyd I yet perceiue well enough, that those temples were visited of many noble personages, who came thether, rather to se me, thē for any great deuotion, & not espying me there, gréeued as it were in mind, went from thence againe, generally affirming that the feast was dishonoured, and not to be called a feast without my presence there. But al­though that I refrayned thus from them, yet sometimes en­treated, and constrayned I must néedes in companie of o­ther noble Ladyes my acquaintaunce and companions goe to them: with whome (but simply apparelled in my ordina­rie holiday attyre) vnwillingly (the Goddes knowe) I went thether.

And there dyd not looke for any sollemne and high place (as I was wont to doo) but refusing the honours offered vn­to mée, I humbly betooke my selfe to the lowest places a­mongst other gentlewomen of meaner calling and degrée. And there harkening to manie spéeches sometimes of one, and sometimes of an other, which secrete gréefe (as well as I could) I passed away the tyme that I stayed there. Howe many times (alas) did I héere them, that sat néerest vnto me talke of mée, saying.

Oh what a great maruaile is it to sée this young Gen­tlewoman (the singular ornament of our Cittie) become now of late of so demisse an abiect a minde? What diuine spirit hath inspired her? Where are her noble robles? Where are her high and stately countenaunces? And whether are her rare and surpassing beauties fledde? To which words (if lawfully I might) I would haue answered. All these things with many other more, (deerer to me then these,) Panphi­lus (ah my iniurious Panphilus) hath caryed away wyth [Page 73] him. And compassed about there with many Gentlewomen, and importunatlie vrged with many questions, with a fay­ned chéere and countenance, of necessity I must satisfy them all. But one of the Gentlewomen amongst the reste, with these stinging words beganne to mooue mee, saying. Thou makest me (Lady Fiammetta) and manie other Gentlewo­menne more, neuer cease to maruaile at thée, not knowing what suddaine occasion hath mooued thée to forsake thy riche attire, thy Iewels, gemmes, and ornamēts, and many other thinges, so commendable and beséeming thy yonge yéeres and which (wee knowe) were once most precious vnto thée. Being yet but in the florishing prime of thy age, thou shoul­dest not put on this graue apparrell, and these vncouth Ha­bits.

Doost thou think, that letting thy youthfull time passe, thou canst call it backe againe? Vse thy yéeres therefore ac­cording to their properties and nature.Yeeres ought to be vsed accor­ding to their quali­tie, This homly and ho­nest cloathing which thou hast put on, may perhaps héereaf­ter serue thy turne better. And as thou séest héere euery one of vs (elder and grauer then thy selfe) with curious and skil­full hand adorned, and with honourable and costly garments attyred, with such oughtest thou (Fiammetta) to be set forth and beautified. To her, and to many other also, expectinge what I would say, with an humble and lowe voice I made this answere.

Gentlewoman, and you the rest of my fréendes, we come to these holie places, either to please y^e Gods, or els to please men. If to please the Goddes, the mind adorned with vertue is sufficient, and it doth not import, whether the body be clo­thed with silke or sackcloth. If to please men, for as much as most of them are blinded with false opinions, and by the ex­terior parts & lineaments of the body coniecture the inward disposition of the mind, I confesse y^t the apparrell vsed some­times of me, and nowe of you is very requisite. But this is now my least care, my chiefest desire consisting rather in a sorrowfull repentance of my passed vanities, which béeing most willing to amende in the sight of Gods and menne, by [Page] this apparrell, and in other things els, I make my selfe (as much as I can) contemptible to the world, and displeasaunt to your nice eyes.

At which wordes the teares of inwarde trueth vio­lentlye expressed foorth, bathed my sorrowfull visage, and therefore thus I beganne to say softly to my selfe. O yée pit­tifull Gods, the serchers of all our harts, let not these vntrue words (vttered by my lying tongue) be imputed to me for a sinne, which, (not of a malicious will, and flatte hipocrisie to deceiue thē, but of méere necessitie to dissemble my gréefe, and couer the cause of it from them) I was constrained to vse as a holy and godlie excuse. But let them rather be me­ritorious vnto me, since that in concealing from thy people an euill and scandalous example, in lue therof by these fay­ned wordes, I gaue them a good president and patterne of better life. It is a great gréefe (you knowe) for mee to tell a lye, and with what an vnpatient and troubled minde I tell this forced and forged tale, you knowe to well, and I can doo no more.

Oh howe many times (faire Ladies) for this iniquitie, haue I receiued pittifull prayses of the Gentlewomen syt­ting about me, saying: that of a most vaine woman, I was become a most deuoute conuertite.How hard a thing is it to iudg of anothers holines Truely I vnderstood ma­ny times, that there were some of them of this opinion, that I was so highly in the Gods fauour, that there was nothing that I could craue at their hands, but I might easily obtaine the same of them. And therfore I was many times visited of holie women, for a zealous and deuoute one also, they béeing (poore soules) as much deceiued in that, which with my sor­rowfull and subtill countenaunce I did hide in my minde, as ignorant how discrepant my feruent desires and my fayned deuotions were. O deceitfull world, how much can counter­fet lookes preuaile in thée more, then iust and well meaning mindes, if that their works be hidden an secrete.

My selfe a greater sinner then anye other, and sorrow­full for my dishonest loues, yet couching them vnder the [Page 74] Vayle of honeste wordes, am reputed holie: But the iuste Goddes knowe, that (if I could without daunger of my ho­nour and good name) with true reports I would make satis­faction to euerie one, whom in fictions, spéeches and gesture I haue deluded, and woulde not hide the headspringe from whēce such streames of teares did flow, nor the course from whence the effects of my sorrowfull life are deriued: But (alas) it may not bee.

When I had answered her, who first demaunded of mée the cause of my melancholie, an other sitting next vnto mee, séeing my teares almost dried vp said. Gracious Fiammetta, whether is the shyning beautie of thy faire face gone, and howe is the liuely colour of thy rosie chéekes extinct? what is the cause of thy pale and wanne visage? Thy twinckling eyes like to morning starres, are dimmed nowe with blew and purple circles that compasse them about, and are so déep­ly suncke into thy browes, that scarcely they may bee discer­ned in thy forhead. Thy golden tresses, once so brauely ador­ned with curious hand heretofore, why nowe tyed vppe dif­fusedlie, and scarcely are they séene? Tell mee Fiammetta. Beauty is but a fraile thing For thou makest me too maruaile without ende. And her I answered in fewe wordes thus. It is a manifest thing, that humaine beautie is but a vading flowre, and that euery day and houre it waxeth lesse and lesse, which (if it hath any trust in it selfe, at length doth perceiue it selfe to bee but nothing, and to lie miserably prostrate. He that gaue it me, (submit­ming me the occasion of expelling it againe) with a dul pace hath taken it from me,The vpper­most attire of Italian & Spanish Ladies, and Gentlewo­menne is a fine blacke mantle of silke or Saye vpon their other garments which co­uereth thē from the hand to the feete. possibly (perhaps) to restore to mee againe, whensoeuer it shall please him. And this béeing sayd, not able to with-hold my teares, shrouded vnder my mantle I shed them aboundauntly. And with these words I lamen­ted with my selfe saying.

O beautye the vncertaine Iewell of mortall menne, and the gyft of a lyttle time, which dooth bothe come and goe sooner away, then the pleasaunt Meddowes depainted with many flowres in the swéetest seasonnes of gladsome [Page] Springtide, and the verdure of high Trées apparrelled with sundry leaues, which are no sooner for a little time adorned with the vertue of Aries, but immediatly with the hote ex­halations and vapours of parching Sommer, are consumed and taken away againe. And if perhaps the burning season doth leaue any of them vntouched, Autume dooth not spare to leaue them naked and bare. Euen so thou beautie, moste often in the middest of thy prime and best yéeres, iniured by many accidents, dost perrish, which if perhaps they be par­doned thée in youth, the riper age (though with all thy force and meanes thou dooest oppose to preserue the same) dooth take it quite away. Oh beautie, thou art but a flying and in­constant thing, and not vnlike to the waters, which neuer returne more to their first fountaines: and no hope in chan­ging and brittle goods, and therefore lesse affiance should bee put.

Alas, howe did I once loue thée, and howe déere werte thou to mee (miserable woman) and with what care werte thou nourished and kept of me? But nowe (and deseruedly) I curse thée beautie. For thou art the first occasion of my lost libertie, the first entrapper of my déere Panphilus his soule, enioying him, haste not sufficient force to kéepe him still. And hee béeing nowe gone, haste not the power or vertue to call him backe againe. If thou haddest not béene, I hadde not séemed pleasant to Panphilus his louely eies, and not hauing pleased them, he shoulde haue neuer sought to allure myne, and not entysing and pleasing them, as he did, I shoulde not nowe sustaine these paines of minde. Thou art therefore the onely occasion and beginning of all my hurt. Oh thrise hap­py are those Women, who without thée, suffer the rebuke­full checks of rude and rusticall behauiour, and are contem­ned for their foule and ill fauoured hewe, because they (ob­seruing Dianas chaste and holy lawes, and seldome troubled with pricking motions, as well deuoide of péeuish passions of their owne parts, as not fearing the forcible assaultes of fonde sutors) may liue with their soules frée from the cruell signorie and tyrannie of loue. But thou, the onely occasion of [Page 75] receiuing continual molestation by them, who neuer leaue to gaze on vs, dooest (by their importunacie) of force en­tice vs to breake that, which we should most déerely obserue O happy Spurina, and worthy of eternall memory, (who knowing thy effects and vnlawfull affections) in the flower of her youth, with cruell hand did kill thée in her breaste, ra­ther choosing to be of the wyser beloued for her vertuous act, then of wanton youthes for her concupiscible beauty. Alas if I had doone so, all these griefes, all these thoughts, & these teares should haue neuer thus molested my tender hart, and my nowe corrupted life shoulde haue yet remained within the compasse of her first laudable bonds.

Héereat the Gentlewomen pulled mee againe, and bla­med my superfluous teares, saying. Oh Fiammetta, None must dispaire in Gods mer­cie, what myserie is this? doost thou despayre of the mercy of y^e Gods? Doost not thou beléeue that they doo pittifully forgiue y^e greatest offences w^tout shedding of so many teares? This course which thou doost take in hand, is rather the way to séeke thy owne death, then pardon for thy faults. Ryse vppe therefore and wipe thy face, and beholde the sacrifice which the sacred Ministers of Iupiter are carrying to offer vp to his mightye Godhead.

At these wordes (stopping my teares) I lifted vppe my heade, which nowe I did not caste rounde about (as I was wont to doo) assuredly knowing, that my Panphilus was not there, nor to sée if any other, or of whom I was behelde, or if the standers by gazed on my apparraile, and ornaments, as they were wont to doo, but rather wholy intent, and relying vppon the fauour of the supernal Gods, to powre forth some pittifull prayers for my Panphilus, & for his happy returne, calling vppon them with these words, I saide. O most graci­ous gouernours of high Heauen,The end of one sorowe is the beginning of another. and generall Iudges of all the worlde, sette nowe some stint and measure to my grée­uous paines, and prescribe an ende to all my sorrowes. You sée I haue not one merry howre, nor quiet day, since that in continued course the ende of one sorrowe is the beginning of another. But that sometimes I accounted my selfe happy, [Page] not knowing my miseries to ensue. First with vaine labour to beautifie my yong and vnripened yéeres, more then was requisite (sufficiently adorned of nature it selfe) hauing vn­wéetingly offended you, for pennaunce & satis-faction of such faults, ye haue of indissoluble and cruell loue, which dooth at this very instant torment me, made mee a miserable thrall and captiue. And you haue afterwards filled my minde (not accustomed to troubles and sorrowes) by meanes of y^t, with newe auoyding cares. And lastly haue deuided him frō mée, whom I loue more then my selfe: whereuppon infinit per­rilles are growne one after another in preiudice of my poore life. But if the prayers of miserable creatures, sometimes penetrate your diuine eares, then pittifully encline them to my petitions, and not regarding the multitude of the faults, which I haue committed against you, let that little good (if euer I did any) be bountifully considered of you, and in guerdon of it, fauourably giue eare to my zealous orysons, and graunt my earnest requestes, which, (as they are but easie for you to performe, so may you (by not denying me y^e same) giue me most great content, and make mée happy againe. A­las howe wel doo I knowe, that this prayer in the sight of you, (most iust Iudges) is very vniust: but it must (néedes) procéede from your iustice, that of two euils, to wish the lesse and to preuent the greater, it is the safest and best counsell. To you therefore, from whom nothing is hid, it is manifest, that my beloued Panphilus, by no meanes can slyde out of my minde, nor those passed accidents out of my memory, the remēbrance of whom, and of which, doth many times wyth gryping gréefes bring me to such a poynt, that (to be ridde of them) I haue eftsoones desired a thousand maners, & sought as many meanes of death, all which, that little hope, which remaineth for mee in you, hath forciblye taken out of my hands. If it be therefore a lesser euill to kéepe my Louer stil, as I haue doone, then to destroy my wicked soule, with my massacred body (as I beléeue it is) let him returne, and be re­stored to me againe. Let liuing sinners be déerer to you, and possible to returne to you again, then the dead dying in their [Page 76] sinne, and without hope of redemption. And vouchsafe ra­ther to léese a parte of your creature, then the whole, which you haue created. And if this be too great, & too much to be graunted, let that which is the last end of all miseries, before that with deliberate and voluntarye counsell (con­strayned with greater gréefes) I take it of my selfe) be gran­ted to me. Let my wordes come before your sight, whom,Miserable creatures require death if they can not mooue to pitty, then you other Gods dwelling in the celestiall regions, if there bee any of you there, who sometimes liuing heere beneath, haue had tryall of that a­morous fire which I féele, receiue them, and offer them vppe to those higher powers, who will not take them vttered by my vnworthy mouth, so that obtayning grace for me, I may first liue héere ioyfully, and after the end of my dayes enioye part of your glorious fruition, and before time, to shew sin­ners, that it is a good and conuenient thing for one sinner to pardon and helpe another.

These words béeing spoken, I did put swéete odours and incense vpon their Aulters, with many other rich offerings, to make them more willing and ready to bend downe theyr eares to my prayers, and for Panphilus his helpe. Which ceremonies, after they were ended, departing from thence, with the rest of the Gentlewomenne. I returned to my sor­rowfull lodging againe.

AS by those thinges which I haue spoken of before, you may presume, euen so (pittiful Ladies) hath my loathed life béene assaulted in the cruell battailes of Loue, and yet is tossed euery day vppon more sharpe & mortall pykes of iealosie. The which certes (considering my future estate) might iustly be thought a pleasaunt peace and pastime. My selfe also béeing stroken with feare (when it came to my re­membraunce) with feare (I say) of that, to the which point it did last of all transport mee, and which dooth yet almoste possesse me, to make the more delay to come to it, because I was ashamed of my owne fury, and because in wryting of it, me thought I reentred into it againe, deducting therefore my discourse in length, with a slowe hande I haue wrytten and published those thinges vnto you, which were lesse grée­uous vnto me: but béeing not able nowe to auoide these, nor to flie to them any more, the order of my narration drawing me on, I will (though fearefully) come vnto it. But thou most holie pittie dwelling in the tender breastes of delicate yong Gentlewomen, gouern thy raynes in thē with a stron­ger hande, then thou haste doone hetherto, because in discur­ring this my doleful narration, and giuing thée a great deale more scope then is precisely conuenient, I might not (per­haps) turne thée into the contrary of that, which I doo séeke [Page 77] and hope for, and so might take as it were from the laps of these Ladies and Gentlewomen that reade thée, their flow­ing and falling teares. The Sun was nowe turned another time into that parte of the Heauens, where the presumptu­ous Sonne was sette on fire, when so rashly hee guided hys fathers Chariott, after that Panphilus departed from mee. And I miserable woman had nowe by long vse learned to suffer accustomed gréefes, and I lamented more temperate­ly with my selfe, then I was wont to doo, and beléeued, that there were no more woes lefte for mee to sustaine, then those, which I had all readie endured, when enuious For­tune, not content with my passed myseries, dyd sodainely shewe mée, that she had yet more bitter poyson to infect my afflicted soule withall.

It came therefore to passe that one of my déerest seruan­tes returned from Panphilus his countrie hether,When For­tune dooth beginne to shewe her selfe contrarie, then she goes encre­sing euer her spight. who was of all that knewe him, but especially of mée, most ioyfullie welcommed. And telling of his owne aduentures and tra­uayles, and of those thinges, which he had séene interming­lyng better with worse, bechaunce he remembred him selfe at last to speake of Panphilus, of whose prayses dilating ve­rie much, (remembring the curtesies that he had sometimes doone hym) made me most contented, and plyed my willing eares to his tale. And shamefast reason and womanly mo­destie dyd scarce bridle my eger will from running to em­brace hym, and to enquire of my Panphilus with an extraordinarie kinde of appassionate affection, as at that very pre­sent I felte. But yet staying my selfe, and he béeing also de­maunded of many concerning his estate, and hauing answered euery one well, I onely asked hym with a merry coun­tenaunce, howe he employed him selfe and spent his tyme there, and if his minde was happely bent to returne againe? To which demaundes he answered thus. To what purpose (my good Ladie) should Panphilus come againe? There is not a fayrer Gentlewoman in all his countrie, (which a­boue all other Citties dooth bring foorth Goddesses for beau­tie,) then she, who most entirely loueth him, and by as much [Page] as I could vnderstood of others, and (as I verely beléeue,) is déerely belooued of hym againe, otherwise I would account hym but a foole, whereas héeretofore I euer iudged him to be wise.

My hart was so turned at these words, as Oenones was sitting on the high hils of Ida, & seing her louer come sayling homewards w^t the new Grecian Lady in the Troyan Ship: which thing I cold scarce hyde in my countenance, although verie hardly I dyd the same: but yet with a dissembled and fainte laughter I sayd vnto hym. Certes thou sayest euen true: For we could not imagine in this country any one gentlewoman so different from his deintie lyking, whome wée might déeme worthy of his looue, so high was his inestima­ble vertue, so rare were his laudable quallities, and so ma­ny his good graces. But if he hath found out any one there, hee dooth both well and wisely in staying with her there. But tell me, with what mynd dooth he brooke his new wife? he then answered, he hath no wyfe? for she that came to his house (as I tolde not long since) true it is, that she came, not to hym, but to his father. Whilest he spake these bitter wor­des,Ielousie is of all others the worst. which so earnestly I lystened vnto, passing out of one anguishe into an other anxyetie a great deale worse, pric­ked moreouer with sodayne anger and gréefe of mynde, my sorrowfull heart beganne so to pante and beate, as the swifte wynges of Progne, when shée beginnes to take her strongest flyght, doo beate against the whyte Sea bankes and shoares.

And my fearefull spyrits beganne no otherwise to trem­ble thorow out euery part of my body, then the superficiall & vppermost part of y^e Sea, with the gentle breathing of some calme wynde discended vpon it, is commonly wont to do, or the bendynge réedes scarcely shaken of some pleasaunt and softe ayre, and I beganne to feele my strength by lit­tle and little decaie, wherefore getting my selfe (as conue­niently as I could) from thence, I wente into my Cham­ber, because none myght perceyue the violent issue of my [Page 78] sodayne gréefe. And béeing nowe gonne out of the presence of euery one, I came no sooner into it, but I beganne to power out of mine eyes such plentie of teares, as a swel­ling vayne or fountaine of water, bursting and gushinge out, when it ouerfloweth the vallies, and I could scarce holde my troubled tongue from lowde exclamations, and my hoarce voyce from pittious lamentations, but casting my selfe (nay rather falling) flatte vppon my miserable bedde (the wicked witnesse of our looues) I would haue cryed out aloude, and sayd.

O Panphilus why hast thou betrayed mée? But my wordes" were broken in the very middest, so sodainelie were the vygour and forces taken from my tongue, and from the other partes of my bodie. And there I laye a good while, as one deade (nay verelie thought to bée deade indéede) carefullie watched, and giuing no small wonder to euery one there, by this sodayne traunce, (no skill of Physicke, or secrecie of anie arte béeing able to make my erringe lyfe returne to her former place againe.)

But after that my sorrowfull soule, which in lamen­ting hadde manie tymes embraced the myserable spyrittes of my bodie to departe, did yet stay it selfe in the same, and recalling her forces agayne togeather, which were almost dissolued and fledde away, my eyes receiued againe theyr light, which for a good space they had lost.

And lifting vppe my heade, I sawe manie Gentlewo­men and others about mée, who with theyr loouing and pittifull seruices bewayling my sodaine swoune, had with most precious and swéete waters all bedewed mée, and with many other instrumentes in their handes, and which, I dyd sée lying before mée, labouring to regaine my lost life. Whereuppon, I maruailed no lesse at those waters, pre­serues, and glasses that were about me, then at the great la­mentations of all the gentlewomen there.

And after that I hadde recouered my speeche agayne, I demaunded what was the the cause of their assembly a­bout [Page] mée, and of all those thinges there. And one of them answered, and sayde.

These thinges (good Ladie) were brought hether (and for no other purpose we also came) to reduce thy fugitiue soule into thy colde bodie againe. Then after a great sighe, and faynte spirite, I sayd alas good Gentlewoman, with what fréendly office of pittie, (working rather a most cruell func­tion, and repugnant to my will) doo you thinke to haue don mée a thankefull péece of seruice, whereas you haue procu­red my great payne, and doone me the worst turne, as euer I had, in forcible retayning my soule in mée still, which was so well disposed, and so willing to haue lefte the most mise­rable body that liueth. Alas it is enough, that there was ne­uer any thing, which with lyke affection was desired of me, or of any bodie else, which you haue denyed me. My soule al readie dissolued from these paynes and tribulations, hadde béene néerely arriued to the wished hauen of my desires, but you haue hindered it her passage.

After these wordes, the Gentlewoman recomforted me with dyuers good spéeches, but they spent both wordes and wynde in vaine. I fayned notwithstanding to bée of better chéere,Miserable men desire to be alone to burst out their inward greefe in lamentation. and alleadged newe occasions of this miserable acci­dent, because, when they were gon, I might haue full scope to burst out my great and swelling gréefe. And after that some of them were departed, and the rest had taken theyr leaue, my selfe bginning to shewe a merry countenaunce, and to dissemble my sorrowe, I remayned accompanied onelie there with my olde Nurce, and with my faythfull maid, who had all this time béene priuie to my long playntes, and a procurer of my momentarie pleasure, both which dutifully ministred comfortable salues to my vnfayned sores, possible enough to haue healed them, had they not béen mortall. But I, thinking onely of those vnluckie tydinges which I had hearde, to one of you, Gentlewomen (to which I know not) I sodainely became an open enemie, and I began to reuolue great & gréeuous matters in my perplexed minde. And that amassed lumpe of gréefe, which could not altogether containe [Page 79] it selfe in my breast, with a furious and despitefull voyce I did in this sorte partly driue out of me, saying.

O wicked and false young man. O enemie to pittie, and pittilesse wretch? O Panphilus the worst of all those, who with out deserte dooth breath this common ayre? Disloyall Panphilus, who hauing blotted me (most miserable woman) out of thy vngratefull memorie doost nowe dwell and de­light thy selfe with thy newe deceitfull dame. Accursed bee that haplesse day, when fyrst I sawe thée, and that fa­tall hower, and very instant, in whych thou diddest please my simple eyes. Accursed be that Goddesse, which appearing to mee, with her allured promyses flattered my waueringe minde, and disturbed the same (though resisting with all her forces to the contrarie) from the boundes of my right iudge­ment, to lyke of thée (wicked wretch,) and (vngratefull monster,) to looue thée.

Certes I thinke, that shee was not Venus, but rather some infernall furie in her shape, striking mee with mad­nesse and filling me with franticke furie, as once she did miserable Atamas. O most cruell youth, whome amongst ma­nie other most noble, beautiful, and valiaunt young Gentle­men, I dyd fondly chuse out for the best, where are nowe thy serious prayers, which for safetie of thy life with teares thou diddest often tymes offer vnto me, affirming that both that, and thy death weare in my handes. Where are nowe thy pittifull lookes, and those two neuer dryed eyes, with the which (malicious man) thou dyddest neuer cease at thy pleasure to shedde foorth teares in my presence? Where is nowe the great looue, that so brauely thou diddest fayne to shewe me? Where are thy swéete wordes, and thy sower gréefes, thy infinite sorrowes, thy paynes and trauels proffered and imployed in my seruice. Are all these slyd out of thy memorie, or hast thou framed them a new to entrap thy deceiued and newe loouer?

Accursed be that pittie of mine, which tooke that life out of death his mouth, that (thereby making her selfe thē a ioyfull woman) should haue rather sent it to the darkesome denne [Page] of death Nowe those eyes which whilome in my presence, lamented, laugh before their newe Mistresse, and that mu­table heart hath turned all his swéete wordes and faire of­fers to her onely, and nowe hast thou hereticallie dedicated all thy seruices to her deuotions.

Alas Panphilus, where are nowe those profaned and periured Godheades? Where is thy promised fayth? Where are thy infinit teares, of the which (miserable woman) I drunke no small quantitie? beléeuing them to bee tempered then with as great pittie and looue, as now they are turned but to droppes of treacherous deceite. All those placed in the bo­some of thy newe Mistresse thou hast with thy selfe taken from me. Alas how great a corsiue was it to my poore hart, when once before I heard, that by Iunos lawe thou werte combined to an other woman. But perceiuing that the co­uenauntes, in which thou didest binde thy selfe to me, were not to be preferred before them, (although I did painefullie beare it,) yet ouercome w^t iust grefe, I did with lesse anguish of minde endure it.It is a great greefe, that that which dooth iust­ly belong to one should vn­iustly be an others, But now vnderstanding that by the self same lawes, by y^e which thou wert boūd to me, thou hast (in casting me of) giuē thy selfe to an other, it is an vntollerable paine for me to sustaine. But now I knowe the cause of thy stay, & openly perceiue my own simplicity, with the which I euer beléeued that thou wouldest, (if possiblie,) haue once returned againe. Alas Panphilus diddest thou stand in nede of so many guilefull artes, and cunninge fetches to delude me? Why diddest thou so often, so solemnlie, and so highlie sweare vnto mée, with continuall asseueration of thy most entyre and sincere faith, if thou diddest thinke thus to de­ceiue me? Wherfore diddest not thou goe away without ta­king thy leaue, or without making any promise of thy re­turne? I did (as thou knowest) most feruentlie looue thée, and thou wert not then so much entangled in my looue, & werte not so straightly my prisoner, but at thy will (as to my no small paine, I now perceiue thou hast doone,) and without wasting such infinite and vaine teares, thou mightest haue departed from me. If thou haddest doon thus, then I should [Page 80] without doubt haue sodainely dispaired of thy returne, ma­nifestlie knowing thy deceite, and then with death ere this time, or ese with iust obliuion my tormentes should haue béene concluded. But because they might be the more prolonged in giuing me a little vaine hope, thou hast continuated and nourished them still. But I poore soule, neuer deserued this at thy wicked handes. Alas how swéete were thy salte teares to me? but nowe (knowing their vile effects,) I féele thē to be most bitter to my dying minde. Alas if looue did so strongly rule in thée, as he dooth féercelie vse his might and signorie in me, tell me then, if it was not sufficient for thée to be once captiuated, but that y^e second time thou must fall into his forces againe? But what doo I talke of looue? For thou didst neuer looue, but hast rather delighted to iest with young gentlewomen, and hast made it but a sport to deceiue w^c thy subtilty their simplicity. If thou had'st loued (as I did beléeue thou did'st) thou shouldest yet haue béene mine own. And whose couldest thou haue béene, y^t had looued thée more then I? Alas what dame so euer thou be that hast taken him from me, though thou art my mortall and onely enemie, yet féeling y^e great gréefe, which his falshood hath engēdred in my breast, I must néedes take pittie on thée:He that de­ceiueth once deceiueth euer. Wherfore I warne thée to take héede of his deceites, because he that hath once deceiued, hath for euer after lost his honesty and shame, and dooth make it no matter of conscience to deceiue euery one from thence foorth.

Alas wicked youth, how many orisons and sacrifices, haue I offered vp to the Gods for thy safetie, and now thou must flie from mée, to goe to an other. O Goddes my praiers (I perceiue) are hearde, but to the profitte of an other wo­man.

I haue the sorrowe, and an other suckes the swéete, I reape but dole and paine for my long deuotions, and an o­ther delight and pleasure of him who in right and equitie should be mine.

Ah wicked man, was not my beauty correspondent to thy brauery, [Page] my dooinges to thy desires, and my nobilitie to thy Gentili­tie? Alas a great deale more? Were my riches euer denied thée, or dyd I take any of thine? Ah neuer. Did I euer in déede or demonstration looue any man besides thy selfe? And (vnlesse thy new looue make thée degresse to farre from the trueth (thou wylt confesse and say no. What faulte of myne therefore, what iust occasion of thy parte, what grea­ter beautie, or more feruent looue haue taken thée from mée, and giuen thée to an other? Truely none. And all the Gods be my recordes héerein, that I neuer wrought any thing a­gainst thée, but that (beyond all termes of reason) I looued thée. And if this hath deserued such treachery as thou haste doone, and workest against mée, let thy owne selfe (disloyall as thou art) be iudge. O ye Goddes the iust reuengers of our vniust defectes, I cal vpon you for cruel and due vengeance. I neyther wishe, nor goe about to practise his death, who by his vile escape from mée would haue wrought mine. Nor do pray y^t any other punishmēt may befal to his deserued guilt, but, if he looue his new choice, as I looue him, that (in casting him of, and giuing her selfe to an other, as he hath taken him selfe from mée) she would leaue him in that kinde of lyfe, that (cruel as he is) he causeth me to leade. And so with vnséemely motions of my body, turning me now this way, now that way, like a franticke woman I tumbled and tos­sed vp and downe in my bed.

All that day was not spent in other spéeches, then in such of like tennour, and in most bitter waylings. But the night worser then the day, and more apte for all kinde of sorrowe (y^e melancholy darkenes being more conformable too meditating miseries, then the light) béeing now stolen on, it came to passe, that béeing in déede with my déere husband, and ly­ing a great while silent to my selfe, and broade waking, yet warring within my selfe with hostes of dollorous thoughts, amongest which, calling to memory all my passed times, as­well my pleasaunt occurrences as sorrowfull passages, and especially that I had lost my Panphilus by meanes of a new looue, my gréefe grewe in such aboundaunce, that vnable to [Page 81] keepe it any longer within, with great lamentations & dole­full complaints, I burst it out, albeit concealing the amorous occasion of it. And my sighes were so forcible, and my sobbes so profounde, that my Husbande (béeing nowe a goodwhile drowned in déepe sléepe) by the great noise and molestation of them was awaked: and turning himselfe to me, who was spunged in mine owne teares, and taking mee louingly in his armes, with milde and pittiful words, he said thus vnto mee.

O my swéete soule,The loue of a good husband. what sinister cause of so dolefull a plaint in the quiet night, when thou shouldest take thy rest, doth trouble thée thus? What thing is it, that this long time hath made thée so melancholicke and sad? Nothing must bée concealed from mee, that may any way displease, or discon­tent thée. Is there any thing, that thy hart dooth desire, and that my witt and substance may compasse for thée, or that in demaunding of it, thou mightest possibly haue? Art not thou my onelie comfort, my ioy, and my good? And doost not thou knowe that I loue thée aboue all worldly thinges, yea more then my selfe. Whereof not by shewe, nor one proofe, but by dailie experience thou maist liue assured. Wherefore dooest thou therefore lament in such sort? Wherfore doost thou af­flict thy selfe in such extreame gréefe? Doo I séeme vnplea­sant, ill fauoured, or nothing gracious in thyne eyes, or am I vnworthy of thy beauty, or is not my birth, parentage, and estate agréeable to thy nobilitie? or doost thou think mée culpable in any thing that I may amende. Speake, and tell me franckly, and discouer to me y^e vale of thy desires. There shalbe nothing left vndoone, or vnattempted for thy sake if it may possible bée. Thou doost (altered in visage and apparrel, and extreamely sorowfull in all thy actions) minister a doleful occasion and matter to me of an vnquiet life. And though I haue before séene thée continually sadde & pensiue, yet thys day more then at any time. I thought of late, that some bo­dilie infirmitie was the cause of thy palenes, but nowe I doo manifestly know, y^t it is gréefe of mind, y^t hath brought thée to this pittiful case, wherin I sée thée, wherfore I pray thée [Page] close to me the roote, from whence all thy sorowes do grow? Whom with a feminine and suddaine witte, taking counsel of fained tales and lies, which before hadde serued mee for a shyft, I answered thus.

O swéete Husband, déerer to me then all the worlde be­sides, I lacke not anie thing, wherein thy forward help may auaile mee, and acknowledge thée (without all doubt) more worthy then my selfe, but the death of my déere Brother, of which thou art not ignorant, hath long before, and now since brought me to this extreame sorrow. Which, as often as I thinke of it, with bitter wailings dooth rent my harte in pée­ces.Sometimes the maner of ones death is more lamē ted then the death it selfe And certes I bewaile not so much his cruell death, a thing naturallie incident to vs all, but the strange and pitti­full manner of the same: which thou diddest know to be vi­olent, infortunate, and bloodie. And besides this, the straunge things, and vglie sights, that appeared to me after his death, doo kill my fearefull soule to thinke of. I can neuer so little shut vp mine eyeliddes, or giue any slender sléepe to my sor­rowfull eies, but immediatly all pale, trembling, naked, and full of goare, shewing me his cruell woundes, he appeareth quaking before me. And euen then, when thou diddest per­ceiue me to wéepe and lament, hee came into the Chamber, standing and staring before me, as I was a sléepe, in likenes of a horrible and fainting ghoste, fearefully quaking wyth a breathles and panting brest, in such sort, that he could scarce vtter one word, but at the last with extreame paine, sayde. O my déere Sister wipe that blotte of ignominie from me, which with an appalled and troubled face, looking euer for verie gréefe and shame thereof on the ground, doth make my sorrowfull ghost wander, with great disgrace and scorne, a­mongst other haples sprites. And although it was some comfort for me to sée him, yet ouercome with terror, which I had of his dreadfull habite, and mooued with iust compassion of his words, with starting on a suddaine, I awaked out of my féeble sléepe, and thus my teares (the which thou dooest nowe goe about to comfort) fulfilling the duetie of my conceiued pittie, did at hand follow. And so (as the Gods know) if wea­pons [Page 82] were fitte for Women, I woulde ere this haue reuen­ged his miserable death, and with a fierce countenaunce and couragious hart, sent the gréedie gutton of his innocent blood amongst other damned soules. But alas I can doo no more then I am able. Therefore (déere Husbande) not without great occasion I am thus miserablie tormented in minde. O with howe manie pittiful words did he then comfort me, ap­plying a salue to the wounde which was healed long inough before, and howe did hee endeuour to mollifie and diminishe my plaints with those true reasons, which for fayned tales he so carefully made.

But after he thought, that he had comforted me vp a little, he fell a sléepe againe, and then I, (thinking of the pittifull and tender loue he bare me) with more cruell griefe secret­ly bewayling my vniust requitall of the same,Prayers of a desperate Louer. began againe my interrupted and péece-meale lamentations, saying. O most cruell Dennes inhabited of sauage and wylde beastes. O hell, the eternall pryson ordeyned for wicked companie. O anie other exile whatsoeuer déeper then these, open and swallowe me vppe, and with iust paines torment my sinfull and deserued soule, and plague mee of all others the vilest Wo­man. O mightie Iupiter, most iustly angry with me, tumble downe thy thunder, and with swift hande throwe down thy crushing bolts vpon my hatefull heade. O holy Iuno, whose most holy lawes (thrise wicked Woman) I haue infringed, take vengeance of me nowe. O ye fierce Caspian Serpents, teare in péeces this polluted body of mine. O yée hellish Ra­uens, infernall Harpyes and cruell beastes, deuoure and en­tombe me in your gréedie mawes. And you most fierce & vnruly Iades, the cruell quarterers of Hippolitus his innocent members, rende me impious and trothlesse Womanne in a thousand péeces. And thou most pittifull Husbande, sheathe thy reuenging sworde with due anger in my culpable brest, and with plentious effusion of my blood, sende forth my wic­ked soule, that hath so vnworthily deceiued thée. Vse no remorse of pittie, loue, nor moderate mercy towardes mee, since that I haue preferred the loue of a straunger, and of a [Page] perfidus Impe, before the bounde faith and due reuerence which I owe to thy holy and vnspotted bedde. O the worste of all womankinde, most woorthy of great punishment for thys, and for many other things, what furie appeared before thy chaste eyes that daie, when Panphilus first pleased thée? Where didst thou abandon that loue, and pyety, which was due to the holy Lawes of matrimonie? Whether didst thou banish thy reuerende chastitie (the chiefest honour and orna­ment of women) when for the blinde lyking of disloyal Pan­philus, thou didste forsake the loue of thy louing Husbande? Where is nowe the pittie that thy beloued youth doth shew thée? And where are the comforts that he should now gyue thée in thy perplexed miseries? Lulled in the lappe of ano­ther Woman, he merrily passeth away the weary time, and and dooth not care for thée, and yet in trueth hee hath reason therefore. Wherefore it must worthily fall so to thée, as to all others, which embrace licentious luste, neglecting law­full loue. Thy iniured Husbande, who with rygour shoulde punish thée, with great pittie goeth about to comfort thée, and he that should performe this iust function, careth not (a­las) wrongfully to torment thée. What, is not he as fayre as Panphilus? And are not his vertues, courage, nobilitie, and especially his loue and constancie, and all other good partes in him, are they not farre aboue all and euery thing y^t Pan­philus hath in him worthy of prayse and commendation? Ah there is no doubt thereof. Wherefore then didst thou forsake him for an other? What blindnes, rashnes, sinne, and what iniquitie hath brought thée to this? Alas poore soule I know not.

Things freely possessed are estemed of slightlyOnely that those thinges which are franckly and free­ly possessed, are wont to bee accounted of no price and va­lue, although they bee (indeede) very deere and precious. And that those, which hardly, and with hazard are gotten, (be they neuer so vile) are esteemed and embraced as moste singuler and sweete things.

The daily fruition and glutting company of my Hus­bande, which shoulde by great reason haue béene most déere [Page 83] vnto mee, surfeited my queisie minde, and so (satiating my chaungable appetite) deceiued mee: and I (mighty inough (perhaps) to haue resisted) doo nowe miserably lament and bewayle that which I haue left vndoone: nay rather I was without (perhaps) strong enough, if I would my selfe, if I had called to minde those signes, and thought of that, which the Gods in sléeping and waking, had showen mee the night and day before my haples fall. But nowe not able to retire (though I would) but constrayned by my appointed stars, to combat still in these amorous conflicts, I knewe too well what the Serpent was, which stunge mee vnder my lefte side, and swelling with my sucked bloode went away. And likewyse I sée the euents, that the prognosticating flower of my crowne, falling from my adorned heade, dooth mani­festly declare. But alas this vaine wisedome and aftersight commeth all too late.

The Gods (perhaps) to purge themselues of some con­ceiued wrath against me, and repenting that they had shew­ed mee any signes, tooke the knowledge of their future ef­fects from me, not béeing able to restore them to me againe, as Apollo from his beloued Cassandra, to whome, after hee had graunted abooue of a Propheticall spyrite, did take the vertue and effect of it, in that she was not beleeued of anye, whensoeuer she diuined. Whereuppon placed in the mydst of all miseries, not without great reason and iust cause, I bewayle and consume my life in woe.

And sorrowing thus with my selfe, and turning & tum­bling my selfe in my weary bedde almost al the night, I pas­sed it away, without giuing mine eyes leaue once to shutte vppe their liddes. But if any sléepe entred into my sorowfull breast, it did so faintly remaine there, that the least styrre or noyse was able enough to haue broken it. And yet although it was but weake, it did not tarry with mee, without repre­senting many fierce battayles in his kind of accustomary de­monstrations to my affrighted minde. And this did not hap­pen to me that night onely, of which I spake of alone, but many times before, and I was almost continually molested [Page] after with the same accidents. Wherfore my soule both wa­king and sléeping, hath and dooth féele equall and like tem­pestious stormes. The complaints which I powred forth in the night time, tooke not away theyr turne and place in the day, but, as excused nowe for sorrowing againe by reason of those lyes, which I tolde my Husband, from that nyght for­ward I did many times lament, and did beginne to bee ex­treamely sad, and sorrowful in open and publique company. But the day béeing come on, my trustie Nurce (from whom the least part of my gréefes was not hid, because she was the first that knewe the amorous signes in my face, and had also imagined diuers future accidents in the same) comming to visit mee, when it was tolde her that Panphilus had chosen another Woman,Oh how many times simple hus­bands are deceiued and doubting of me, and most carefull for my neglected weale, my Husband no sooner went out of the Chamber, but shee immediatly entered in. And séeing mee (thorow the great anguish, and gréefe of the last night) to lie as one halfe dead, with diuers comfortable words shee went about to asswage my furious euils, & feruent passions, and taking me in her armes, with trembling handes shee wyped my face all blubbered with teares, with speaking these words.

Yong Lady, and my déerest Mistresse, thy sorowes make me beyonde all measure sorrowfull, and would afflicte mée more, had not I warned thée of thē before. But thou (more wylfull then wyse) forsaking my willing counsells and pre­cepts, hast headlong followed thy flattering conceits & plea­sures, wherefore with sorrowfull chéere, I sée thée vnhappily ouercome with these gréefes, which must néedes be due cha­stisements for thy rash & vnreasonable follyes. But because euery one may alwayes as long as life doth last, (so that hee haue a willing minde to performe it) decline from his wic­ked wayes, and turne againe into the right, I shall thinke it the déerest thing to me, that may happen, if from hencefoorth thou wouldest shake of the darke clowde from the eies of thy vnderstanding, obscured by this wicked tyraunt, and restore to them againe the cléere light of truth. What he is, the mo­mentary [Page 84] delights, and the prolonged gréefes, which thou hast passed, and dost endure for him may make thée apparauntlie knowe. Thou hast like a yong and simple Woman,Youth fo­loweth will more then reason follow­ing more thy vnbridled will, then rayned reason, fondly lo­ued, and in louing, to that ende which is not onely expected, but commonly also desired in such passions, hast attained, and yet (as it is saide) haste knowne it to be but a more shorte then swéete delight. And what thing els can there be desired or looked for heereafter, then that which thou haste alreadye had. And yet if happily it might come to passe, that Panphi­lus should returne againe into thine armes, thou shouldest féele no other pleasure then thou wert wont to doo. Feruent and hote desires are wont to be in newe things, in the which many times putting a certaine kinde of hope of a false ima­ginatiue pleasure, and thinking that, that good is hydden in them, (which perhappes is not) with great griefe doo make appassionate Louers endure their force and heate. Wheras those thinges, which are already knowne, are wonte to bee more temperatly, and but meanely liked of, and not halfe so much in request. But ouerruled too much with the gréedi­nes of thy disordinate appetite, and disposing of thy selfe al­together to newe and fantasticall opinions, thou dooest per­forme the contrary. Wise and discrete folks, perceiuing thē ­selues to be in troublesome places, and full of doubtful daun­gers, are wont to retyre bake againe, rather content & wyl­ling to léese their labour and trauaile, which they haue endured vntill that place, to the which they haue arryued, and déeming it better to returne safely again, then going on for­warde, to endanger themselues, and to gette no other ende of theyr rashe attempt then suddaine death. Followe thou therefore the like example, while thou mayst, and place now with more modestie, aduised reason before lawlesse wyll, and wysely hale and helpe thy selfe againe out of thys pytte of perrill and sorrowe, into the which thou hast suffered thy selfe foolishly to fall. Fortune perhaps yet fauourable vnto thée, (if wyth aduise thou wylt take héede) hath not forestal­led thy passage in returning backe againe, nor hath so coue­red [Page] and choaked vppe the same, but that (discerning thy foot­steppes well) thou mayst by the selfe same come back again, from whence thou diddest firste mooue thy headlong féete, and be once againe that Fiammetta, which whilom y^u werte wont to be.

That which doth prin­cipally help one from the bon­dage of loue.Thy good name, thyne honour, and thy known vertues are yet vnstained and whole, and whatsoeuer thou haste yet doone, is not in the mindes of many secrete, nor in the knowledge of any publique personne commaculated, which beeing once corrupted, hath béene héeretofore the onely meanes, and yet is (as we dailie sée) an occasion to make one fall into the vttermost and déepest place of all mischiefe. Procéede there­fore no furder, least thou contemne and waste that, which Fortune hath reserued for thée. Comfort thy selfe, with thys imagination, that thou diddest neuer sée Panphilus, or els that thy husband was y^e same man. Thy indifferent fantasy is apt to any conceit, and imaginations are easily suffered to be wrought like Waxe. By this way only thou mayst make thy selfe merry againe, which thing thou oughtest speciallye to desire, if anguish and sorrow afflict thée so much, as thy words doo promise, and thy countenance doth protest. These words and such like, not once, but many times, with a sor­rowfull minde did I heare, without making any aunswere to them againe. And though I was beyond al measure trou­bled in minde, notwithstanding I knewe them to bee moste true, but yet the matter very ill disposed, did receiue them without any profit at all. But turning me nowe on one side, and now on another, sometimes it happened, that mooued with rauing anger, and not respecting the presence of my austere Nurce, with a voice enraged with womanly gréefe, and with a sorrowfull kind of complaint, and greater then any of the rest, I sayd thus.

O Megera, O Tesiphon, O Alecto, tormenters of wic­ked and woful soules, let your horrible and vgly haire stand vppe, and incense the cruell & firce Hydias with venimous anger, and kindle them to newe kindes of quaking feares, and with flinging your crawling Snakes in her face, enter [Page 85] spéedely into the wicked chamber of that damned adul­tresse. Enflame your miserable brands for her vile coniunc­tions, that she enioyeth now with her robbed loouer, and be­set their delicate bedde about with them in signe of a dirie presage to wicked loouers. O any els people of the blacke ha­bitations of infernall Dis. O yée Goddes of the immortall kingdomes of Styx, be present there, and with your luckles lamentations smite feare and horrour into these faithlesse fréendes. O miserable Scritch Owle, sit and sing ouer their haplesse house.

And O you ominous Harpyes, giue them some terrible signe of future woes. O eternall Chaos, and darknesse ene­mie to all light, possesse the adulterers houses so, that theyr wicked eyes may not beholde, nor enioy any comfortable light at al. And let your mallice (O ye reuengers of wicked thinges) enter into those mindes, which are so ready to chaunge, and raise vp cruell contention and tragicall mur­ders betwéene them. After this casting out a hot burning sighe, I added these wordes following. O most wicked wo­man, whosoeuer thou art (vnknowen to me) thou doost now possesse my loouer, so long, and so often wished for of me, and I (miserable woman being farre from him, doo in the meane time languish in continual paine. Thou doost enioy the guerdon of my trauelles and desertes, and I (deceiued of the fruit) doo remaine still in sowing and powring forth praiers and consume my selfe in watring them with continuall droppes of teares.

I haue offered orisons and incense to the Gods for his prosperitie (whom thou hast secretly imbeseld from mee) and they were heard onely for thy profitte. And now behold with what arte (I knowe not) nor howe, thou hast rooted him out of my loouing heart, and engrafted him (false wo­man) in thine. And yet I knowe that it is so. But with such content, and so mayest thou looue, and liue (I wishe) as thou hast made me to doo. And if (perhappes) it be to hard for him to fall in looue the third time, then let the Goddes deuide your looues, no otherwise then they did dissolue the Grecian [Page] Ladies and the Iudges of Ida, or as they did disseuer that of the young man of Abydas, and of his vigillant and sor­rowfull Heroe, or as they did breake of those, of the misera­ble Sonnes of Eolus, bending their sharpe iudgement one­lie against thée, he himselfe remaining safe. O naughty wo­man, thou must néedes haue thought (viewing wel his come lie face) that hée was not without some Lady, and loouinge Mistresse.

If thou dyddest therefore suppose this (which I knowe thou diddest imagine,) with what minde diddest thou prac­tise to take that away, which appertained to an other? with an enuious and fraudulent minde I am sure. Wherefore I will, as my mortall enemie, and wrongfull occupier of my goodes, pursue thée euermore, and as long as I liue, will nourishe and preserue my life with hope of thy shame­full and cruell death.Maledicti­ons of anen amoured woman. The which I wishe may not be so common and naturall as to others it is, but that tourned in­to a lumpe of massie leade, or Ixions heauie stoane tyed a­bout thy necke, thou maiest bee cast into some déepe, and darke caue, amongest the middest of thy enemies murde­ring handes, and that neyther fier, or funerall be graunted to burne and burie thy torne and massacred members, but béeing pulled in péeces and scattered abroad, they may serue to glutte the hungrie mawes of howling dogges, and raue­nous woolues. Which I pray, (after they haue deuoured thy softe and tender flesh,) may for thy naked bones fiercelie iarre and cruellie fight one with an other, so that gréedelye gnawing, and breaking them in péeces with their whetted téeth, they may liuely represent thy wicked praie, and thée delighted with thy gluttonous rapine, which in thy detested life time thou diddest fowlie committe.

There shall not escape one day, not one night, no not one hower, but my readie mouth shalbe full of endlesse curses. Sooner shall the Celestiall Beare plumpe downe into the Ocean, and the raging waues of Sicilian Caribdis shalbe quiet, and the barking Dogges of Scylla shal holde their peace, and ripe Corne shall growe in the waues of the Ionian sea, [Page 86] and the darkest night in her chéefest obscuritie shall shine like Titan his beames, and water with fire, death with life, and the Sea with windes shall sooner with breachlesse faith bée at turce and make concorde togeather, before I will re­concile, and establishe a péece with thée (vile monster of wo­man kinde.) But rather whilest golden Ganges shalbe hote and Istrus colde, and while highe hilles shall beare sturdie Okes, and the softe and watred medowes gréene grasse, so long (foule brothell) will I bée at continuall warre and de­fiaunce with thée? which neyther mortall hatred, nor death shall determine, but pursuing thée amongest the deade gostes and fiendes of Hell, with all those tormentes that are vsed there, I wyll continuallie plague, and eternally pu­nishe thy damned soule for thy condemned and hatefull déede.

But if perchaunce thou doost suruiue mée, whatsoeuer the manner of my death shalbe, and wheresoeuer my mise­rable Ghost shall wander) from thence, perforce I will la­bour to take it, and entring into thy lothsome bodie, wyll make thée as madde, as the Virgins, after they had recei­ued Apollo. Or else comming in thy sight, broade wakinge thou shalt sée mée in a most horrible shape, and in thy feare­full sléepe oftentymes will I awake,The virgins that is the deuiners. and afright thée in the vncomfortable silence of the darke night.

And bréefely in whatsoeuer thou goest about, or doost, I will continually be a horrible obiecte to thy wicked eyes, and a griping corsiue to thy hellishe heart: and then (remem­bring this cruell iniurie) I will not suffer thée to bée quiet in any place. And so long as thou lyuest, with such a hideous furie (my selfe the onelie worker of it) thou shalt be continually haunted.

And when thou arte deade, I wyll minister occasions of more dirie stratagems vnto thy miserably ghost. Alas poore wretched that I am, to what end are my botlesse words pro­longed? I barke and threatē, & thou doost bite & hurt me, and enfolding my beloued Panphilus betwéene thy vnworthy armes, [Page] doost care as much for my menacing and offensiue wordes, as high and mightie kings for their inferiour and impotent vassailes: and no more then conquering Captaines for their confounded captiues. Alas would I had now Dedalus hys arte, or Medeas Cotche, because making wings by the one for my shoulders, and being caryed in the ayre by the other, I might sodainely alight there, where thou doost basely hide and nestle thy selfe, with thy stolen loone. O how many thundering wordes, and what threatning inuectiues with ben­ded browes would I cast out against that false youth, and against thée, vniust robber of an others felicitie? O with what villanous termes would I reprehend your detestable follies?

And after that I had amazed, appaled and attainted your wicked faces with a shamefull blush, with recitall of these vnshamefull faultes, I would then without delay procéede to sharpe reuenge, and taking thy haire (false enchauntresse) in my handes, with pulling and renting them, and drawing thée héere and there by thy tresses before thy perfidus loo­uer, I would glutte my swelling anger, and tearing thy garmentes from thy disgraced body, with reprochfull tauntes I would triumphe ouer thée, mall apart and wicked traytresse. Nor this should not suffise mee to fulfill my due anger, nor be halfe enough for thée, to expiate thy odious crime, but with sharpe nayles I would disfigure, that painted visarde, which so much pleased his false eyes, leauing an eternall memoriall of their caracters, and reuenge in it. And thy miserable body with my gréedy téeth péece-meale I should shyuer, leauing the which afterwardes vnto him (that dooth nowe flatter thée) to heale againe, my selfe (ioyfull for parte of so small vengeaunce) would hie me home againe to my sorrowfull habitacles. Whylest I spake these wordes with fyrie sparkeling eyes, with closed téeth, and with bended fist, as though I had béene at the very action it selfe, I re­mained a prettie while silent: and me thought I had indéede played one Pagent of my gréedy reuenge.

But the olde Nurce with mournefull voyce lamenting, [Page 87] sayde thus vnto mée. O daughter since thou doost now know the furious tyrannie of this passion, which thou callest thy God, who dooth this molest thée, temperate thy selfe, and bridle thy pittious complaintes.

And if the due pittie which thou shouldest take of thy" owne selfe dooth not mooue thée héereunto,The care of her honour must warne euery wise woman frō vaine thoughts & deedes. let the regarde of thy honour perswade thée to it, which for an olde errour passed, may lightly be stained with a newe shame: Or at least with-holde these complaintes, and outcries, least that thy loouing husband perceiue not the indirect causes of thy dolefull plaintes. And so for two causes he might worthelie be sorie, and agréeued at thy sencelesse follie. Then being put in minde of my husbande, and thinking of the wronge, and shame, I had doone him, mooued with newe pittie, I la­mented more sensiblie then I did before, and discussing in my minde my corrupted faith, and the holie lawes of wed­locke violated, I sayd.

O most faithfull companion in my troubles, my husbande may be sorie for little or nothing. For he, which was the oc­casion of my offence, hath béene a seuere purger of the same. I haue long since receiued a guerdon, and am yet payed with to seuere a rewarde for my demerites. My husbande could not imagine to giue me any greater punishment, then that, which my late loouer hath afflicted me with all. Onely death (if death be painefull, as it is commonly sayd) my hus­bande may annex to my other tormentes. Let hym then therefore come, and giue it me quicklie. It shalbe no paine for me to die, but a wished pleasure, because I greatly desire the same.

And it shalbe more acceptable and welcome to me, per­formed by his owne handes, whome so greatly I haue offended, then perpretrated by any others, or by my owne. If he doo not giue me it, or if it dooth not voluntarily come vn­to mée, my troubled wittes shall finde out some speedie pas­sage to it, because by meanes of that,Diuers pu­nishments of damned soules compared to the paines of a loouer. I hope to conculde all my sorrowe at once.

Huge hell, the last and extreamest punishment of dam­ned [Page] miserable soules, in the most tormenting place of all, hath not any tortrue so forcible or equall with mine. Auncient authors alleadge and bring in Titius for an example of great punishment, saying that his encreasing liuer is continually becked, and deuoured of a gréedy vulture. And certes though I accounte his paine not little, yet it is not like to mine. For if the hungrie Vulture féede vpon his liuer, a hundred thou­sand thousand gryping, and stinging gréefes continually gnawe my heart more then sharpe billes of any praying Byrdes. They likewise affirme, that Tantalus placed bée­twéene cléere water, and goodlie fruite, dooth euermore dye for hunger and thirst.

My selfe (alas) put in the middest, and swimming in all mundane delightes, with affectionate desire wishing my loouer, and not enioying him, doo sustaine as much, nay ra­ther greter paine then he. Because with neuer ceasing hope, hée thinkes sometimes to tast of these freshe waters, and ruddie Apples, that hang on euery side about him. But I (dispayring nowe altogeather of that, which I once hoped would haue béene my comforte,) doo neyther sée, nor can ex­cogitate any ease for my gréefe, and loouing him more then euer I did, by the alluring forces of an other woman, and of his proper accorde also, is so kept backe, that he hath not onely cast me quite out of his remembraunce, but that by mea­nes thereof, I am debarred to entertaine the smallest hope that may be of my welfare for euer after. And miserable lx ion also, turmoiling eternally at his vnruly whéele, doth not féele such cruell paine, that it may be likened to mine. Be­cause my selfe shaken with continuall motions of furious madnesse, by my aduerse fates doo suffer much more gréefe, then euer he can doo. And if y^e daughters of Danaus with lost labour doo continually power water into tubbes full of holes, thinking to fill them, I straine forth greater plenty of teares by the ouerflowing conduites of my eies, drawen frō the hollow caue, & center of my heart. Wherefore doo I trouble my selfe to recite these infernal tortures by one and one since that there is heaped in me a greater Chaos of miseries, [Page 88] then any there, deuided, or conioyned. And if I had no other kinde of anguish to cruciate my miserable soule, that I must of necessitie kéepe my dollours secret, or at the least conceale and hide their ofspring, whereas they, with lowde voices, carelesse spéeches publique actions (conformable to their sorrowes) might discouer and manifest theirs, by so much the more should my paines be adiudged greater and more grée­uous then theirs. For (alas) how strong y^e restreined fire and how more violently doth it burne, then that, which hath ful scope, and no obstacle to exhalate and throwe his flames a­broad. And how gréeuous a thing it is, not to be permitted to speake one word of extreame sorrowe, that dooth sensibly torment one, and y^t it is not lawful to tel the annoious occasion of it, but vnder the shewe of a merry countenaunce it is conuenient to hide it in the secret closet of an impatient & pain­full hart. Wherefore not extreame sorrow onely,Death a lightning of sorrowe, but exter­nall death shalbe a lightning of my gréefe. Let therefore my déere husband come, and in one houre let him reuenge him­selfe, and ridde me out of these paines. Let his vnsheathed sworde open my miserable, and naked brest, and let him in one instant with plenty of my bloode pull foorth my sorrowing soule, and dissolue my infinit & heaped woes, and (as my vile wickednesse dooth deserue) let him teare this hart the retainer of these vile iniuries, y^e principal deceiuer of his true affections, and y^e chéefest receiuer of his feined fréend and se­crete enemy. After that the Nurce did sée me hold my peace and beginne to wéepe bitterly, with a milde and lowe voice she beganne to replie. Oh déere daughter, what meaneth this, which so frantickly thou speakest? Thy words, are as vaine, as thy conceits more foolish. I haue séene (being now an old womā) many things which haue passed in this world and haue daily knowen the order, & course of many ladies & gentlewomens loues. And (although I am not to be accounted my selfe amongst thē) yet neuerthelesse haue I once felt the secret poisō of these amorous darts which are more grée­uous sometimes & much more troublesome) to thē of lower degrée, and of poore condition, then to the nobler and higher [Page] personages, when as all the meanes and passages to the at­taining of their desires and pleasures, are stopped and cutte of from them, that are néedie and poore: Whereas they at theyr will, and with their wealth may breake an open way to heauen. And y^e, which thou sayest to be almost impossible, and so gréeuous vnto thée, I neuer conceiued, nor felt to bee halfe so painefull and nothing so harde as thou doost make it? Which gréefe, although it be indéede very great, ought not for all that to worke such effectes in thée, as to consume and waste thy selfe in such woes, and thereby to séeke thy owne death, which more rashlie and furiously, then by anie good motion of wisedome or argument of reason thou doost wishe for. I knowe well, that burning anger procured by furie is blinded, and careth not to couer it selfe, nor dooth brook any bridle, and dooth admitte no reason, and is not afraide of death, but rather driuen on headlong and vrged of it selfe, it resisteth the mortall prickes of sharpe swordes. But if thou wouldest let this anger of it selfe waxe somewhat col­der, I doubte not but thy kindled follie should be made ma­nifest to that temperate and cooled part. And therefore good daughter with patience sustaine his great force, and giue place to his furie.

Wherfore note my words a little, and settle thy minde vpon the examples,Weake com [...]rtes. which I will propunde vnto thée. Thou arte with incessaunt anguishe of minde most sorowfull (if I haue well perceiued thy spéeches) for the long absence of thy belooued youth gon from thée, and for his faithlesse fidelity, & for the second looue of his newe choice. And being agréeued at these (perhappes) vncertaine and vniust iniuries recknest no paine like vnto thine. But (certes) if thou wouldest be so wise, as I do wishe thée, thou shalt for ease of all these painefull accidentes (pondering well my words) receiue an easie & an effectuall remedy. The young man whom thou loouest ought without all doubt (according to the lawes & ordinan­ces of looue) to looue thée againe, as thou doost him, & if he doth not, hée dooth very ill, and yet there is no force to compell him thereunto, since euery one may vse the benefitte of his [Page 89] owne liberty as it pleaseth him best. If thou doost loue him greatly, and so much, that thereby thou doost endure greate paine, hee is not therefore to bee blamed, nor thou canst not iustly be agréeued with him therefore, considering that thou thy selfe art the chiefest cause of this. For mighty Loue (al, though he be a great Lorde, and his forces are ineuitable) could not for all that against thy will, place thy Louer in thy hart.

Thy vagrant witt, and idle thoughts, were the firste originalles of thy loue, which if thou haddest effectually op­posed with thy might, these sorrowfull euents had not hap­pened vnto thée, as now they haue doone, but, as one frée frō such vncouth passions, thou mightest haue mooued him, and all others, as he (disporting himselfe with his new loue (as thou sayst) dooth now make but a iest of thée.) It is therfore necessary, since that thou hast submitted thy libertye to hys Lawe, to gouerne thy passions according to his pleasures, and since he thinks it best to be farre from thée, that thou cō ­tent thy selfe, and not repine thereat. If with teares hée dyd vowe entire faith vnto thée, and promised thée to returne, he did not vse any newe thing héerein, but an olde and common tricke, practised out of memorye, and performed euery day of most Louers. And these are the prancks, and many more such fashions of like consequence, which are daily taught and learned in thy God his Court. But if hee hath not kept with thée that faith & promise, there was neuer any Iudge, that in decyding of this matter, could say any more of it, but that he did not well, and would so acquite him, thinking also with thy selfe, that he should doo y^e like, (if any other strange loue, or fortune had giuen thée ouer to such a breache of for­mer faith) as now thou shouldest, and I doo wish thée to doo. He is not also the first that hath doone so, nor thou the first, to whom like accidents haue befallen.Diuers ex­amples of those that forsooke their louers Iason departed from Lemnos from Hipsiphile, and returned into Thessaly to Medea, and from her afterwards to Creusa. Amorous Par­ris went from the woods of Ida from Oenon, and returned to Troy with faire Hellen. Theseus went from Creete from [Page] Ariadne and came to Athens to Phedra. And yet for al this neither Hipsiphile, Oenone, or Ariadne killed themselues, but reiecting all vaine thoughts, buried their false Louers in darke obliuiō. Loue (as I said aboue) doth thée no wrong at all, or hath doone thée any more, then thou thy selfe woul­dest take. He vseth his bowe and arrowes without any re­spect of persons, as we may dailie sée by proofe. And there are so many and manifest examples, making so cléere on his side, and for his manner of inordinate dealinges, that none can worthely be agréeued at any badde successe, which hee giueth, and that can with reason (almost) bewayle the ordi­nary gréefe, paynes, and care, which by his meanes and mo­lestations his followers haue, but rather complaine and la­ment their voluntary submission, and be sorrowful for their franck consent which they yéelded to him. For he béeing but a wanton, naked and blind boy, doth flye and alight he knoweth not where himselfe. Wherefore to be sorrowfull for hys accustomed and indirect vsages, to bewayle his vnkind and froward abuses, to receiue no cōfort by him, or by no means to thinke to remooue him, is rather a losse of wordes and winde.

The newe Woman, who hath taken thy beloued in her netts, or els whom hee hath with his cunning guiles ouer­come, and whom with so many reuenging words thou dost menace, with her owne fault (perhaps) hath not made hym hers, but he with his important sutes (it may be) and wyth his flattering and pittifull words, great gifts, and seruicable déedes, hath wonne her to be his. And as thou wert wonte (not able to resiste his enchaunting prayers, and to beholde his wofull teares) so she perhaps as flexible by prayers, promises and protestations, as thy selfe, could not endure them without some great pittie of his distressed and sorrowfull cause. If he coulde so well by amorous complaints expresse hys hote desires, and could so cunningly (as thou hast tolde) like a Crocadile whensoeuer it pleased him, bewaile and la­ment, then must thou cléerely know that teares ioyned with beauty are of great force to obtaine their request. And be­sides [Page 90] this. Say that the Gentlewoman with her sugred spéeches, and gracious behauiour hath ouercome him, why, is it not a thing commonly vsed now adayes in the worlde, that euery one doth séeke his own aduantage, not hauing any re­garde or care to an other his preiudice,Euery one seeketh his owne ad­uantage. but where and when he findeth, euen there and then hee taketh as hee best may. The good Woman as expert as thy selfe in these affayres, knowing (perhaps) him to bee a cunning Knight in Venus Courtly battailes, allured him therefore the more vnto her. And who with-holdeth thée, or what impediment hast thou to hinder thée, that thou mayest not doo the like to some o­ther? which thing, albeit I neither counsell nor commaund. But if there can be no more doone then may bee, and that of necessitie thou art constrained to follow Loue, whensoeuer thou wilt pull thy necke out of his seruile yoke, thou mayest quickly finde a great number of yong and lusty Gentlemen in this Cittie, more valiant, noble, proper, more worthy and more louing, and a great deale more constant then hee is. Who (as I certainly beléeue) to obtaine but the smallest fauour at thy hands that he hath had, would gladly kisse the very grounde that thou treadest on. Whose sundry kinds of delightfull seruices, and swéete pleasures, shall so by little and little driue him out of thy remembraunce, as hee hath for loue of his new Gentlewoman banished thee (perhaps) out of his memory.

Iupiter laugheth at these promised faithes, and solemne oathes, whē they are broken. And whosoeuer doth vse one, but according as he is vsed himselfe, what canne the worlde speake or thinke of any more, then the deserts of such an one did require. To kéepe faith with one that hath broken hys, is reputed now adaies but méere mockerye, and to requite deceits with deceits, is estéemed no small poynt of wise­dome.

Medea forsaken of Iason, entertayned Egeus. And Ari­adne forsaken of Theseus, got Bacchus for her Husband, and so were their mournings turned into myrth. Temperate therefore thy gréefes, & suffer thy paines patiently, because [Page] thou hast not any occasion to be sorrowful more for another, then to be pittifull towards thy selfe. And whensoeuer thou wilt, thou shalt finde oportunitie enough to make thē cease, considering that the same, and greater gréefes then thyne, were sometimes sustained and passed away by others, grea­ter and more noble personages then thy selfe. For Deianira was forgottē of Hercules for Iole, and Phillis of Demopho­on, and Penelope of Vlisses for Circe. And all their tormēts and passions were greater then thine, by how much y^e heate of their loue was greater and more feruent then thine. And so much the more if their diuine essence, immortall powers, and the hautie condition of those notable men and Women are well considered, and yet they suffered them. In these disgraces therfore thou art not alone, nor the first. And those aduersities in the which patients haue company,Greese is lesse hurt­full when one hath company in it. are not so gréeuous and painefull to them, as thou thy selfe dooest say. Wherefore bee merry againe, and expell these vaine cares, admonishing thée to haue before thine eyes a continuall doubt, and feare of thy déere Husband, and of his iust anger, and yet vnconceiued iealosie, to whose eares, if perhappes these follies (as néedes they must at laste) shoulde come, ad­mitte, (as thou saist) that he could giue thée no other, nor no lesse punishment then death, the very same (for as much as one can die but once) ought euerye one (when his howre is come, and when he can) to take it in the best sorte, and order he may. And thinke, that if that kind of death, which in thy rage & angrye moode thou dooest so quickly & so wickedly de­sire, should followe and happen vnto thée, with what greate infamy, and euerlasting shame should thy liuing memorye, thy déere honour, thy good name, and thine honestye, suruiue and remaine for euer after blotted, and ignomiously obscu­red.

Worldly thinges shoulde bee vsed, not as troublesome substaunces, but as transitory shaddowes. Wherefore from henceforce, let neither thy selfe, nor any other, put any affi­aunce in them, whether they haue a prosperous or preposte­rous issue, nor yet throwne downe in aduersitie, let not any [Page 91] of the otherside dispayre of the best. Clotho mingleth these and those things together, and forbiddeth that Fortune bée stable and constant, and chaungeth euery fate. None had e­uer the Goddes so fauourable to their willes, that they might presentlye binde them vnto them, or coulde at any time haue them tyed to their affections. For they, pro­uoked by the guilt of our sins, turne our affaires topsye tur­uy, and Fortune againe helpeth those, that be valiant coura­gious, and stoute minded, reiecting those that are pusillani­mous, fearefull & doubtfull in their enterprises. And now it is time to prooue if vertue haue any place in thée. Admitte that at al times it may neuer be remooued, though oppressed with darke clowdes of aduersities, and darkned with blacke tempests of mis-fortune, it is oftentimes choaked and lyeth secrete and hydden. Hope also hath this property annexed to it, that it is not a guide to afflictions, nor sheweth any way to gréefe or sorrow. Wherefore, hee that may hope in anye thing, let him dispayre of nothing. Wee are tossed with the fluctuant waues of our destinies, and those thinges (beléeue me) that they prepare for vs, cannot with so light care, with so small regarde, or with so soone labour bee chaunged. The greater part almost of that, which we (mortall generation) eyther doo, or suffer, commeth from the heauens aboue.

Lachisis dooth kéepe a decréed Lawe to her Distaffe, and doth draw forth euery thing by a limitted way. The firste day she giueth thée is the last: neyther is it lawful to wrest determined things, and wrought aboue with the influences of the Planets, to an other course. It hath hurt many to be afraid of an inmoouable order, and many also in not fearing the same. Because while these are a fearing their owne de­stinies, the very same are already befallen to thē vnawares. Leaue therefore thy gréefes and sorrowes, which volunta­rilie thou hast procured and liue ioyfully, putting thy hope in the Gods, and endeuour to doo well: because it hath often times come to passe, that when one doth think himselfe fur­dest from felicitie, then with an inopinate steppe he is sud­dainly entred into it. Many Shippes securely sayling tho­row [Page] the déepe and wide Seas, haue béene offentimes cast a­way in the mouth of the wyshed Hauen. And some againe, dispayring altogether of succour, haue in the selfe same day, and daunger, yea suddainly arriued to the desired ende of their long voyage. And I haue séene many trées smittē with Iupiters scorching lightnings, and in fewe dayes after again couered ouer with gréene leaues, and loaden with goodly fruite. And some againe cherished with great care, by some secrete and suddaine accident, withered quite away. Fickle Fortune doth yéelde sundry effects: for as she hath béen the instrument of thy long gréefe, so (if by hope thou doost nou­rish thy life) shee wyll likewise minister to thée manie oc­casions & wholsome meanes of double ioy againe. And nowe she helde her peace.

But as many times as she perceiued me distracted in­to these vnwonted and extreamest passions, so did the sage Nurce vse these spéeches towardes mee, thinking with her selfe to driue these irremoouable gréefes, and obstinate an­guish out of my minde, reserued onely for the full consuma­tion of my death. But none or fewe of her graue counselles, did touch my troubled mind with effect, and y^e greatest part of them spent in vaine, vanished away in the ayre. And my sorrowfull soule did euery day more sensibly féele more gréene and gréeuous wounds. Wherfore lying many times vpright vpon my rich bedde, with my face couered betwéene mine armes, I imagined diuers great matters, and strange things in my troubled minde. And now I will begin (pitti­full Ladies) to tell of most cruell thinges, and not credible almost to be hatched in the breast of a simple Woman,They that loue vnfor­tunatly doo often times think to kil them selues. if the sequell of these, or greater then these were not séene after­wards to come to passe. My harte béeing therefore cleaued almost a sunder with vnspeakable gréefe, and perceiuing my Louer to bee farre from mee, like a desperate and fran­ticke Womanne I beganne thus to say to my selfe. Behold the very selfe and same occasion, which Sidonian Eliza had to abandon this hatefull world, cruell Panphilus hath giuen me. And (alas) a great deale worse. It pleaseth him that [Page 92] forsaking these, I séeke out other regions. And since I am become his subiect, I will fulfill his hard beheste and pitty­les pleasure: and in one howre I will requite my haplesse loue, my committed wickednesse, and my iniuried and déere husband with a tragicall and vnnaturall death. And if op­pressed soules, deliuered out of thys corporall prysonne, haue any liberty in the newe world, I wyll without delay con­ioyne mine with hys. And where my body cannot bee, my soule shall supplye the place of it. Beholde therefore I wyll die, and so rydde me of all these paines, I thinke it most con­uenient, that with these handes I execute this last strata­geme vpon my selfe. Because there can be no other hande so cruell, that can perfectly performe that, which iustly I haue deserued. I wyll therefore without delay willingly take my death, the remembraunce of which, although it be terrible to my weake sexe, and to my womanly thoughts, yet shall it be as welcome vnto me, as this painfull life is yrkesome vnto my soule.

And after that I had resolued vppon this last pretence, I began to deuise with my selfe, which was, of a thousande wayes the best, to take my life from me. And first of all colde and sharpe yrons came to my minde, the mortall meanes of many one hys vntimely death, considering that the said E­liza by their cruelty did forsake thys cōmon ayre: and then after these the deathes of Biblis and Amata were presented before mine eyes, the manner of which was offered to mee to ende my weary life. But more carefull of my honor and good name, then chary of my selfe, and fearing more the ma­ner of dying, then death it selfe, the one séeming vnto me ve­ry infamous, and y^e other too extreame cruell in y^e mouthes and mindes of euery one, were occasions to make me refuse the one, and not to like of the other. Afterwards I imagined to doo as the Sagontines, and as those of Abydas dyd, the first fearing Hanniball, of Carthage, and y^e other Phillip of Ma­cedon, committing themselues and all theyr goods to y^e fu­ry of consuming flames. But knowing that thys coulde be no small detriment to my déere Husbande, vnculpable and [Page] guiltlesse of my euils, I refused also this kinde of death, as I did the rest before. After these I called to mind y^e venimous iuyces, which héeretofore assigned to Socrates, to Sophonis­ba, to Hanniball, and to many other Princes more, their last daies. And many of these indéede as they pleased my chang­able fancie, so did I thinke them fitte for the purpose. But perceiuing that in going about to séeke them, no little time was requisite, and doubting leaste by enquirie of them my drifts shoulde bee called in question, and sifted out, and that my determined purpose also in the meane while, might per­haps haue béene altered, I imagined to séeke out some other kinds of death. Wherefore I bethought me (as many times I had doone before) to yéelde vppe my féeble spirits betwéene my knées, but doubting least it should be known, and suspec­ting some other impediment incident to it, I passed to other headlong thoughts. And the very same occasion (and least I should be also séene) made me forsake the burning, and swa­lowed coales of Portia. But the death of Ino and of Melicer ta, & likewise the hunger starued ende of Erisichthone, occurring to my memory, the long time, that I should haue in ex­ecuting the one, and in staying for the other, made me also to reiect them, thinking that the paine of the laste did a greate while nourishe the languishing body. But besides all these wayes, the precipitate death of Perdix falling frō the high­est Towre of Creete, came also to my minde, which spéedie kind of death onely pleased me infalliblie to followe, as one deuoide of all insuing infamie, saying to my selfe. Casting my selfe downe from the highest Turrets of my Pallace, I shall crush my boanes in a hundred péeces, and dashe out my braines, and by all those seuerall péeces will yéelde vppe my haplesse soule contaminated with prepared goare, and rea­dy broken vp to be offered vppe as a Sacrifice to the Gods. And fewe or none there are that will imagine and say, that by mine owne cruelty, furie, or proper will, this death besell vnto me, but imputing it rather to some vnlucky chaunce, with powring out pittifull teares for mee, will bewayle my vntimelie death, and curse my froward Fortune.

This deliberation therefore tooke place in my mind, and it liked me especiallie to put the same in practise, thinking to haue vsed great pittie towards me, if I had perhaps become pittilesse and cruell against mine owne selfe. This determi­nation therefore had now taken sure roote in my hart, and I did not attend for any thing els, but fitte time,Wicked thoughts euer warre with good when a chillie cold suddainly entring into all my boanes, made me tremble for very feare, which brought these words with it, saying. O miserable Woman, what dooest thou intende to doo? Wylt thou (ouercome with madde anger) in a senceles rage & fury cast thy selfe away? If thou wert nowe constrained to die of some gréeuous infirmitie, wouldest not thou (alas) ende­uour and séeke to liue, because at the length thou mightest sée thy Panphilus once more before thy death? Dost not thou thinke that when thou art deade, thou shall neuer sée him a­gaine, and that no kinde of pittie, that hee may vse in thy be­halfe, may helpe thée any thing at all. For what did y^e slacke returne of Demophoon profitte vnpatient and strangled Phillis? She florishing without any delighte felt his com­ming, which if she could haue staied for, he might haue found her still a Woman as he left her, and not a Trée. Liue ther­fore Fiammetta, for he will yet for all this (returning as a fréende or as an enemie at length) come to thée againe. And with what disposed minde soeuer he returne, thou canst not choose but loue him still. And perhaps thou shalt sée him, talk with him, and mooue his vnconstant and harde harte to com­passion of thy woefull plightes. Hee is not made of sturdye Oake, nor of Flinty stone, nor borne, bredde, nor nourished in a hollow Caue amongst wylde Beastes, and did neuer sucke the milke of Tygres, nor drinke any other sauage and cruell beastes blood, neither is his hart made of Diamonde, or of stéele, and is not of so brutishe and rusticall inclination, but that he will lend his eares, and bende his hart to my pit­tifull plaints, passions, and perswasions, and take some re­morse of coequall commiseration of my sustained sorrowes. But if he will not be ouercome with pittie, then wearyed of thy lothsome life, it shall be more lawfull for thée (driuen on [Page] on by manifest dispayre) to kill thy selfe. Thou hast passed away more then one whole yéere (without him) a pensiue and painefull life, and wel maiest thou yet (though with re­doubted gréefe) rubbe out an other. Death dooth not fayle at anie time,Any may haue death whensoeuer they will whensoeuer one dooth eyther desire, or procure it, which will be then as prest, and more ready to come, then nowe he is. And thou maiest then depart with hope, bee he neuer so malicious and cruell, that béeing at thy present and haplesse death, he will shedde some teares. Recall therefore againe thy ouer rashe and cruell aduise. Because whosoeuer hasteneth too much to wicked counsell,Who haste­neth to wicked coūsell, studieth to repent at leysure studyeth afterwardes to repent himselfe by leysure. And this last parte of thy tra­gicall life, which thou doost meane to play, is not a thing that may afterwards be amended with vaine repentance: which if it did follow, could not with all the force it had, recall it backe againe. My mind béeing thus mollified with these ar­guments, with a suddain altered purpose, and inopinate ad­uise, I kept a long time in an equall poyse of moderate rea­son. But dreadfull Megera launcing it with sharpe and mor­tall woundes of gréefe, disturbed by setled sences, and dys­tourned my willing minde from following this good moti­on, and egged me on to prosecute, and to practise my first vnnaturall and cruell resolution, which now I thought priuily and earnestly to bring to effect. Wherefore (to cloake it) I alwayes shewed mine olde Nurce a merry countenaunce, and did finely counterfette my sadde chéere, with some plea­sant kind of comfortable spéeches, to whom, because I would haue had her gone out of the Chamber, I sayd. Behold (good Mother) how I haue planted thy most true reasons & graue coūsels with great profit in my breast, but because this blind furie may depart out of my foolish mind, withdraw thy selfe from hence a while, & leaue me to my rest, that am nowe ve­rie desirous to sléepe. But shée béeing as full of subtiltie as my selfe, and as one that did diuine of my secrete intent, cō ­mended much the minde I had to sléepe, and as shee was cō ­manded, went a little way from me, into a dark corner hard by, but would by no meanes goe out of the Chamber.

But because I woulde not giue her any occasion to sus­pect that, which I went about, cléene contrary to my minde and desire, I séemed to like well of her staying still, thinking that after she had séene mée sléepe, shée woulde haue gone a­way. With quiet rest therefore I fayned this imagined de­ceite, in the which although nothing appeared outwardly, yet thinking of that howre, which should haue béene my last in this pleasing world, full of bitter anguish, and enuironed rounde about with legions of stinging gréefes, I muttered forth these words to my selfe, saying.

O miserable Fiammetta, and of all Women that liue in this world the most miserable, behold thy Glasse is nowe runne, thy latest day, howre, and last periode is come: And after that from the highest place of thy Pallace thou shalte haue throwne thy selfe headlong downe, and that thy soule shall haue forsaken thy brused bodie, then let thy teares bee dryed vp, let thy sighes then surcease, and thy sorrowes, and desires be determined, and then in one howre, with the déere price of thy spilled blood & with y^e raunsome of thy pale death thou shalt redéeme thy selfe from the bonds and captiuitie of loue, And then shalt thou cancell the verball Obligation of Panphilus his promised and vnperformed faith. Thys day thou shalt haue the deserued embracings of him. This day the Millitary Ensignes of loue shall couer thy body, wyth a dishonest and vnséemely torture. This day thy wearyed spi­rits shall sée him. This day thou shalt know, for whom thou hast forsaken thy selfe. This day of force thou shalt make him pittifull. This day thou shalt beginne the vengeance of the yong and wicked Sorceresse, and thy malitious copart­ner.

But Oh yée Goddes, if any pittie doth harbour in your diuine breasts, be fauourable to me in these my last prayers. Suffer not my death, and the memory of my life to passe a­mongst the rude populare, with blotte of dishonor & stayne of infamie. And if in taking the same there bee any faulte committed, behold there is a present satis-faction, since that I die with feare to publish the occasion thereof.

The reuealing of which, shoulde be certes no small com­fort vnto mee, if I beléeued that in talking of it, it might e­scape without ignominious blame. Make my déere Hus­bande also (ye sacred Goddes) suffer it with patience, whose true loue, if I had duely obserued, and had rightly perfor­med Iunos holy lawes, I might haue yet liued a happye and merry Woman, without troubling your diuine Godheads with these earnest prayers. But like an ignoraunt Woman of my thrise happy estate, and (as others of my condition are wont to doo) following euer the worst,womē take euer the worst in hand. and forsaking y^e best, am nowe woorthely appaide with this vnfortunate and due recompence. O fatall Atropos, by thy infallible blowe to all the world, I humbly pray thée, that thou wouldest with thy power guide my falling body, and dissolue my soule not with too great paine from the thredde of thy Sister Lachesis. And thée O Minos receiuer of it, by that loue that somtimes bur­ned thée, and by this blood, which now I offer vnto thée, euen by the same, & by what els may mooue thée (infernall Iudge) I obtest thée, fauourably to conduct it to the places appoin­ted by thy iust iudgment for it, and that so cruell and sharpe torments be not prepared for it, as to déeme and repute the infinite paines, that it hath already passed, but light in re­spect of them to come.

After I had spoken these wordes to my selfe, incensed Tesiphon appeared before mine eyes, and with a sencelesse murmure, and contracted and menacing forehead, made me afraide of a worser life to ensue, then that which was alrea­die past, but afterwards, with a kind of confused spéeche, say­ing. (That nothing which was neuer tryed could be hurtful) inflamed my troubled mind with a more eager desire of my owne ruine. Wherfore perceiuing that my olde Nurce was not yet gone, and doubting least her long tarying might not marre my matters, béeing nowe resolued to die, or that some other accident might not take it quite away, with display­ed armes vpon my bed, and embracing it, I said. O bedde farewell, praying the Gods, that thou maist bee more fortu­nate and gracious to thy next Mistresse whom thou shalt re­ceiue, [Page 95] then thou hast béene to me. After which words, my eies rolling about y^e chamber, the which I neuer thought to haue séene any more, surprised nowe with suddaine griefe, I was depriued of the light of the Heauens, and groueling vp and downe, surseysed (I know not) with what a shiuering and trembling feare thorow out all my body, I would haue ry­sen vppe, but euery part of the same ouercome with quaking feare, did not suffer me, but I fell suddainly downe againe, not once, but thrise vpon my face: in which occurrant I felt a fierce warre betwéene my angry soule, and my timorous and vitall spirits, which by maine force did kéepe it still, that faine would haue flowen away. But my soule at last ouer­comming them, and driuing away colde feare from me, sud­dainly kindled me with a hote and burning dollour, and so I recouered my wandred forces againe. And yet my face mor­phewed with the pale colour of death, I violently rose vppe, and as the sturdy Bull, hauing receiued some mortal pricke fiercely runneth vppe and downe, beating and tormenting him selfe, euen so hellish Tesiphon, gadding madly vp and downe before myne eyes, made me (like a frantick and mad Woman, and not knowing mine owne fancies) cast my selfe from the bedde vpon the grounde, and ledde by this infernal féende, I did runne towards the stayres that went vp to the highest part of the house. And hauing in a trice leaped out of the Chamber, with most extreame lamentations and care­lesse lookes, viewing euery part of the house, at last wyth a hollow and féeble voice I sayd. O most vnluckie lodging vnto me, remaine thou héere for euer, and make my fall mani­fest to my Louer, if euer hee returne againe. And thou Oh déere Husbande, comfort thy selfe, and from hence forwarde séeke out a newe wyfe, but a more wyse, louing, and more loyall mate thē Fiammetta hath béene vnto thée. O my déere Sisters, Parents, and all the reste of my other companions and fréendes, wyth all ye (my faithfull Seruaunts, lyue yée héere styll with all the fauoure that the Goddes may affoord you.

The good­nes of God oftentimes doth not suffer wic­ked deter­minations to come to effect,Thus like a madde Woman, with sorrowfull words I did hasten to my wicked ende. But the olde Nurce, as one by some suddaine feare awaked out of a slumber, careleslye leauing of her worke at the whéele, greatly amazed at the sight of this spectacle, lifted vppe her aged body, and, crying as loude as euer she could, made poste haste to followe mee, who with a horce voyce, and scarcely vnderstoode of me said. O daughter whether doost thou run, what madde fury dooth driue thée forwarde? Is this the fruite that my wordes (as thou saydst) by the receiued comfort of them, did put in thy breast? Whether goest thou? Tarry for me (alas) After­wardes with a lowder voyce she yet exclaimed. O yée yong menne, and seruaunts of the house come, come quickly & take away this fonde Woman, and kéepe her backe from her fu­rious actions and desperate intent. Her vociferations were of no force, and their hast lesse spéedie. And me thought I had Mercury his winges fastened to my shoulders, and that swifter then Atlanta, nay then any wynde I did flye to my violent death: But of vnexpected chaunces (appending as well to good as to wicked purposes) one (alas) was an occa­sion to make me still enioy this lothsome life: Because my long garments, wauing and blowne abroade with the force of my hasty flight, and fréendly enemies to my furious pre­tence, my selfe also not able to refraine my course, were fa­stened I (know not howe) to a shyuered poste by the wall, as I was running, and interrupted my swift passage, which for all the striuing and pulling that I could doo) did not suf­fer me to leaue any péece of them behinde me. Wherefore whilst I was labouring to vndoo them, the sorrowful Nurce breathlesse, and panting came vppon me, to whom (I remē ­ber) with taynted chéekes, full of burning anger, and with outragious outcryes, I said. O miserable olde woman pack from hence in an euill howre if thy life bee déere vnto thée. Thinking to helpe me thou doost hinder me, in not permit­ting me to execute this last & mortall duety, resolued there­vnto, and spurred on with an eager desire to cut in sunder the webbe of all my woes. Because whosoeuer dooth let one [Page 96] from dying, that is disposed, desirous, and resolued to die,Who doth hinder one that is dis­posed to die he himselfe doth kill him. doth no lesse then kill him himselfe. Wherfore thou art now become my homicide, thinking to deliuer me from death, and (like the greatest enemy to my quiet rest) doost endeuour with thy thanklesse office to prolong my sorrowes.

My tongue exclaimed, and my hart burned wyth ire, and yet thinking to haue loosed my garments in hast, I dyd entangle and fasten them more and more, (which as soone as I had founde out the way to vndoo) I was immediatly helde and staied by the noise of the clamorous Nurce, so that by her féeble forces and hanging vpon me, I was greatly di­sturbed of my purpose. But vnwynding my selfe at last out of her handes, her strength had profited her nothing at all, if the yong Seruants and Women at her continuall excla­mations had not come running from euery part of the house and force perforce had not stayed me. Out of whose handes with much strugling, and diuers frisks, and with greater forces also (the desire of death adding strength to my mighty wyll) I thought to haue vngrappled my selfe, but breathles at the last, and ouercome by them, I was carryed backe a­gaine to my Chamber, which once I thought neuer to haue séene againe. How many times (alas) with lamentable and bitter spéeches did I chyde them saying.

O vile and base Seruants, what boldnes is this, that makes you so mallepart, and what precipitate presumption is this, that mooues you so rudely and so roughly to handle her whom you should reuerence, and contrary to your duety thus violently to lay hands and grype your Mistresse, to whom you should be most obsequious, and of whose welfare you should be most carefull, and at whose will and pleasure you should be most dilligent and ready. What kind of furie (madde wretches) hath enspyred you to this rash dealings. And thou wicked Nurce, the cruell example and meane of all my miserable gréefes yet to come, why hast thou repug­ned my last desseignes?

Why, dooest not thou knowe that in procuringe and helping forwarde my death, thou haddest doone me a [Page] greater pleasure and a better turne, then in with-holding me from it. Wherefore let this miserable part be playd, and let the ende of my tragical life be duely accomplished by me, and (if thou louest me, as I thinke thou dooest) leaue mee to mine owne wyll, leaue me (I say) to mine owne selfe to re­present the last pagiaunt of my dolefull life. And (if thou art so pittifull and carefull ouer me as thou shewest) employe thy piety and studie, in sauing my doubtful fame, and honor, which after my death shal stil suruiue. Because in this péece of simple seruice, with which thou doost nowe hinder me, thy practise, payne, and néedelesse labour shall proue at length but vaine. For doost thou thinke to take from me those sharp tooles, and cruell poynados wyth which I will at last broche this miserable hart of myne, and in whose poynts and edges consisteth the onely hope of my desires. Or els strangling cordes, lothsome and swelling poysons, mortiferous hearbs, choaking ryuers, burning coales, and consuming flames? What doth this vigilant care auaile thée anie more, but to prolong a little this yrkesome life, and to reserue it to that kinde of death (which euen nowe, without touch or staine of infamie, might haue set peace to my afflicted soule) which by thy pittilesse interruptions deferred, thou shalt doubtlesse at one time or other, make most infamous vnto al y^e worlde, and moste shamefull vnto mee. Because death is in euerye place, and consisteth in euery thing. Let me therefore nowe die, least growing to a more gréeuous condition of life, with a more inhumaine minde and cruell hand, I prepare for my selfe the most miserable and cruell death that may be.

Whylst wretched Womanne I spake these wordes, I coulde not keepe my handes styll, but sometimes fal­linge on one Seruaunt, and sometimes on an other, cat­ching some by theyr locks, I pulled the heayre from theyr heade, and fastening my nayles in the faces of other some, I made the bloode to spynne out of theyr cheekes, tea­rynge from othersome their poore garments from theyr backs.

But (alas) neither the olde Nurce, nor the mangled [Page 97] seruauntes aunswered me one word againe, but lamenting my sencelesse actions, executed their pittious functions to­wardes me, whom then with gentle wordes and entreties I endeuoured to gaine to my will, which serued my turne nothing at all.

Wherefore lyke a franticke Hecuba, making a great noyse, and with outragious spéeches I beganne to exclaime saying. O wicked handes, and prone to al mischéefe, you, the adorners of my hurtfull beauties, were a great occasion to make me become such an one, as to séeme so fayre and plea­sing in his eyes, that I was desired of him, whome I looue most of all. Since therefore these euilles haue spronge by your helpe, in guerdon of this, vse now your wicked crueltie vpon my accursed body. Rent it in péeces and open it, and diued in my hotte blood, pull out from my accursed bodie my miserable heart, and inexpugnable soule. Teare out (I say) this false hart wounded with blind looue. And since that all meanes of mortall and murdering instrumentes are ta­ken from thée, with these reuenging fingers, (the adorners of my banefull beauties) and with these sharpe nayles péece-meale dismember, and without remorce of pittie rent it out. Alas that my bootelesse spéeches did menace and promise me desired euilles, and commended them to the execution of willing handes, but the vigilant care of the prying seruan­tes béeing alwaies ready to the hinderaunce of them, with­helde them against my will. And the mournefull and importunate Nurce with dolefull speeches after all this, beganne thus to say.Affectio­nate com­forts.

O déerest daughter, by these miserable breasts which were the scources of thy alimentes, I humbly pray thée, that with a quiet and appeased minde thou wouldest giue eare to my wordes. By them I will labour to mittigate thy passions, that thou shalt not sorrow any more, or to driue quite away (perhapes) from thée, the blinde anger, that dooth incend thée to this kinde of furie, or else with a more remisse and calme minde to make thée suffer the same: or else spéedely to forsake it. Wishing thée to reduce that to thy erred memory, that [Page] shall reuiue thée, and be no smal health, and great honour vnto thée. It is therefore expedient for thée (good Ladie) most famous for so rare vertues, as thou art endued with al y^e gifts of nature and fortune, not to be subiect to pinching sorrow, nor (as a woman ouer-come) to turne thy backe from daring dollours, from threatning mishappes, and from persuinge woes.

It is not a poynt of vertue to require death, and to call vpon it nor a parte of magnanimitie to be afraide of life,It is not vertue to desire death and to be afraid of life. as thou art, but rather to countermaund pressing euilles, and to flie away before them, is not the part of couragious and resolute mindes. Whosoeuer dooth abate his destinies, and dooth contemne, deuide, and cast from him the profittes, pleasures, contentes, and goodes of his life, as thou hast don) I knowe not what néede he hath to séeke death, and cannot tell why he feareth life, since that the one and the other is a will of a timerous persō. Now if into the darke dungeon of extreame misery thou doost desire wil-fully to cast thy selfe, séeke not death, because this is the last expeller and extin­guisher of it. Let this foolish fury fly out of thy mind, by the which (mée thinketh) thou doost séeke both to haue, and to lose thy loouer. Why, doost thou beléeue) by béeing dissolued into nothing) to get him againe? To whom I aunswered not a word: But there was such a rumour spread thorow out the wide house, & thorow out the Cittie, and country rounde a­bout. that all my seruauntes (no otherwise then at the how­ling of some hungrie woolfe, all the néerest inhabitauntes are woont to méete together) came running to me from euerie place, and all of them afrighted with sodaine sorrow, demanded what the matter was. But I had already forbidden them, that knew it, to tell any thing at all. Wherefore coue­ring the horrible accident with a cunning lie, they rested all satisfied. My déere husband made hast thether, and my louing sisters, my carefull parents, and fréends with panting & fainting breasts came running to me. And euery one of them e­qually deluded with a false tale, did (instéed of a most wicked woman) repute and praise me for a holy Saint. And euerie [Page 98] one after much wéeping, first reprooued my life punished with so much sorrowe, labouring afterwards to comfort me vp againe. But from thence foorth it fell out that some be­léeued, that I was haunted and stinged with some fury, and therefore like a madde woman continually watched mee. But some more pittifull then the rest, marking my mildnes, and iudging it (as it was indéede) but a certaine gréefe of minde, with taking great compassion of me, laughed at that which the rest both dyd, and sayd. And visited thus of many, I remained euery day more amazed then other: And vnder the discrete garde of the sage Nource I was closely kept. And as there is no anger so burning or so extreame,All anger with time is brought to nothing. but by course of time is made colde againe: So remaining certaine dayes in this case (as I haue set downe) I came to my selfe at last againe, and did manifestly know the Nurces wordes to be true. And with bitter teares therefore I bewailed my passed follies. But yet although that the heate of my rage in time was spent, and became nothing, my looue neuertheles did not one whitte decrease, but taried with me still, by rea­son of the melancholie (vsed in other accidents before) which now continually I had, taking it gréeuously at the hart, to be forsaken for the vniust looue of an other woman. Where­fore I conferred with my Nurce often times about this matter, and tooke counsell of her, desirous to finde out some good meanes how to reclaime my olde loouer. And therefore some times I determined (by her aduise) with pittifull letters to certifie him of my sorrowful life, and gréeuous misfortunes, & other sometimes we thought it more conuenient by some wise messenger, to let him vnderstand of my daily woes, procured by his wilfull, absence. And truely although y^e Nurce was olde, & the way very long and dangerous, yet she wold for my sake haue gonne thether her self. But waying euery thing well, we iudged y^t letters were they neuer so pittifull were not of any effecacy to mooue him from these present & new looues, so y^t we accounted those but lost labour. Admit y^t (for all this) I did sometimes write certaine, which had the very same issue that we coniectured of before.

To sende the Nurce thether, I thought it as farre from the purpose, because I dyd apparauntly perceiue, that shée could neuer come to him aliue, and to put my affiaunce and trust in an other, I thought it to preiudiciall to my honour and honesty. So that these first consultations were but fri­uolous. And there was not lefte any way in my minde to haue him againe, but in my owne person to goe to him: To perfourme which enterprise, there occured diuers thinges in my minde: all which by good reason were at last adnihi­lated of my Nource.

I thought sometimes to take the habite of a Pilgrime, and with some faithfull companion and secrete fréende, to séeke him out in the very middest of his countries. And al­though this did séeme possible vnto me, notwithstanding I did cléerely sée my honour to bee in great hazard thereby, hauing heard how fayre and wandering Pilgrimmes are oftentimes vilie abused of wicked ruffians and théeues, by the wayes and in their trauelles. And besides this, knowinge my selfe obliged to my good husband, without whome, or his leaue, I could not conceiue how to frame, or how to take in hand this long iournie, which thing to obtaine, in vaine I might haue hoped. Wherefore I gaue no place to this boot­lesse inuention. And therefore I was sodainly transported into an other deuise, as inconuenient, as the other was vndecent for my estate before, and I imagined indéede that it should come to passe, and should verely haue doone it, if some repugnaunt chaunce in the meane time had not happened, but hereafter (if I doo but liue) there shal not effectuall prac­tises be wanting to fulfill the drifte of my pretences. I fei­ned in these my foresayd aduersities, if the Goddes, had de­liuered me from them, to haue made a vowe, desiring to haue performed the which, with iust reason I might haue trauailed vppe and downe in my loouer his countries: pas­sing thorow the which, I had oportunitie at will to sée, & to recal him backe againe: which I discouered to my déere hus­band, who willingly & louingly offered to furnished me with necessaries in the same voiage, yet wishing mee to attend a [Page 99] more conuenient time. But the delayes hereof being verie gréeuous, and no lesse daungerous vnto mee, and fearinge least it might bee suspected, and so detected a vicious and wicked iourney, and Pilgrimage, this (I say) caused mee to enter into new imaginations, and into other counselles: all which séemed worser to me, then the rest aleadged before, except onely the meruellous and supernaturall effects of He­cate with the which,By Hecate which Pro­serpina de­uoteth is vnderstood arte Magi­que. because I might most safely committe my selfe to the fearefull spirites, I had much talke and con­uersation, and with those especially, whome I had heard were most skilfull, and who themselues did boast to excell in arte Magique, promising to performe and bring to passe what I would.

And some of them swearing to cary me sodainely thether. Others to weane his minde from all other looues, and to ingrafte it in mine againe. Others telling that they woulde restore me to my former liberty, and my selfe desiring that the least of these might come to passe, I found them as full of tatling words, and vaine promises, as their vnperformed and simple déeds did manifest. Whereupon my flatteringe hope remained many times confused, and in suspence by them, and therefore thinking it best of all to shake of these wicked driftes, I attended conuenient time, in the whych my husband promised me to fulfill my feyned vowe.

MY Sorrowes (not­withstanding the hope of my fu­ture voyage) were continuated, & the sky with continuall motion caring the Sun with it, did draw on one day after an other with­out any intermediate space of time: And vaine hope held me in wauering doubtes, longer then I would, my great gréefes, and gréeuous looue not any whit deminished.The description of the Spring tide. And now that Bull, which sometimes transported Europa, held Phebus with his golden light, and y^e daies borowing light of the nights, of the shortest, became the lon­gest. And flowry Zephirus (arriued with his calme & peace­able blasts) had set the boysterous wars of Boreas in peace. And the stormy and darke tempestes banished away with the colde ayre, and the white snow discouering the toppes of high hilles, and the plashie meddowes (washed with the a­bundaunce of falling raine) had made euery flower fayer, al grasse to waxe gréene, and generally had renued al herbage: And that hoary whitnesse, which all the colde winter season hath couered euery trée, was now changed into a liuely and fresh verdure. And in euery place that season of the yéere did rayne, when ioyfull Ver aboundantly enricheth the earth [Page 100] with his wished and welcomed treasures. And the ground (starred as it were and wrought with violets, marigoldes, and swéet roses) dyd séeme to counteruaile y^e eight heauen in beauty,By the mo­ther of Bac­chus is vn­derstood the vine, & Narcissus did now begin to grow on euery medow and the mother of Bacchus also to shewe foorth sprowting & fructiferous signes of her fertill wombe, and dyd with her gréene burgeons (more then she was wont to doo) ouer charge her supporter and fellow Elme, him selfe also become now more heauy by his new garments. Driope, and the de­lastrous sisters of Phaeton dyd also nowe shewe merry and chéerefull countenaunces, hauing shaken of the miserable habitte of hoarie winter. The prettie byrdes perching on eue­rie twigge and bowe, were heard to warble forth swéete and siluer notes. And Proserpina her mother, y^e deuout goddesse of countrimen) ioyfully waued vp and downe the féelds with her goodly garments. And besides all these thinges my cruell Lord made euery lusty, young, and loouing minde to féele the heate of his fiery darts hotter then before: Where vpon euery one, young Gentlewomen as well as gallant youthes, adorning themselues (according to their degrée) in the brauest manner and richest fashion of attire, endeuoured to please their best belooued. The mery feasts chéered vp our Cittizens, and filled all our Cittie full of mirth, which were more magnificent & copious, then any that had béene made in floorishing Rome of yore. And the Theators resounding with swéete songes, and melodious soundes, did enuite eue­rie loouer to them. The Heroicall young gentlemen some­times mounted vpon stately coursers, and prowde Gennets did runne at Tylte and Iust in rich and compleate Harnis, and sometimes their pampred and headstrong Horses trap­ped all ouer with a caparison of little siluer and golden bels dyd hotly fight at Tourney. And sometimes prowdly prancing vp and downe on them, with skilfull hand did showe howe these foming fierie stéedes with frothie bytte should be managed and ridden. The young and wanton Ladyes with decked troopes of beautifull Gentlewomen following them (desiring also to sée these sportes) wearing fyne [Page] garlandes of newe flowers about their heades, dyd lende sweete and gratious aspectes to their gazing loouers, some­times out of highe windowes, and sometimes from beneath their doores. Of which some with newe giftes, others with a merry countenaunce, and some with swéete wordes, but generally all with some fauour or other did fréendly honour theyr loouers, and kindle greater flames in them. But I like a straunger and forlorne woman, sitting by my selfe in a sollitarie place all alone, and comfortlesse for the decayed hope of my ioyfull times, did not a little sorow with my self but lament greatly and mourne.

Nothing pleaseth my melancolyque fancyes, no feaste could make my heart merry, nor afforde any comfort to my gréeuous thoughts or ease my playntes. My handes touched no gréene leaues, caryed no swéete flowers in them, and ca­red as little to handle any ioyfull thing, as my sorrowfull eyes to beholde them. And I became so péeuishe an emula­tresse, that I enuied at others myrth, and with great desire dyd iniuriously wishe that euery woman might be so intreated with looue, and serued with such sawce of Fortune, as I was. For with what a willing eare, and with what great consolation doo I remember, that many times I haue heard the recounted miseries, and miserable mishappes, that in times past, and lately haue befallen to vnfortunate loouers. But while the angrie Goddes helde me in this cursed con­dition of lyfe,Fortune to afflicted the more often times showes a mery countenaunce. deceitfull fortune, with greater woes to afflict miserable menne, chaunging as it were in the middest of theyr aduersities, sheweth them sometimes a pleasant looke, because, abandoning themselues, and trusting more to her fawnyng smiles, they may fall into greater myseries, when theyr momentary myrth beginneth once, and on a sodaine to cease.

And so these ignoraunt fooles, relying wholy vpon her, at last perceyue themselues throwen headlong down, as miserable Icarus in the middest of his flyght, trusting to much to hys waxed winges, and mounted vp to the hyghest skies, fell from thence into the sea called yet after hys own name. [Page 101] This frowning fortune I say, perceiuing me amongest such séely soules, not to be content with these passed euilles, that she had giuen me, preparing worser for me, with a false and dissembled ioye beganne to smile vpon me, and to mol­lifie somewhat her pawsed anger: Because recoyling a good way backe, she might (no other wise then the hotte rammes of Affrica in rutting time to giue a greater dubbe) assayle and hurte me the more.

And in this sorte with a certaine vayne gladnesse, I made truce for a season with my sharpe and still sorrowes. But my faythlesse loouer hauing now taryed a great many monthes more, then those fower promised past, and vnper­formed:Loouers are some­times com­forted with one ioy. It fell out that sitting on a certaine day all alone in my sorrowfull chamber, though wearied with the ouer­cloying companie of dolefull thoughts, and accustomed la­mentacions, the olde and féeble Nurce with a more hastie pace, then her aged limmes could well endure, came rushing in, her furowed face all bewette with trickling sweate, and setting her selfe downe by me, her breast panting vppe and downe, and her eies expressing a certaine kinde of ioyfulnes in them, she beganne many times to speake, but the prece­dent faintnesse of her wearyed pulmon, did euer breake of her wordes in the middest: To whom (with a minde full of suspicious woonder, and fearefull doubt) I sayd. O déere Nurce what meaneth this great labour and paines, that thou hast taken, thus tyred thy selfe with? What thing doost thou so earnestly desire to tell, and with such hast, that first thou wylt not suffer thy breathlesse spirittes to rest them. What, are they ioyfull, or vnluckie tidinges? Shall I pre­pare my selfe to flye, to dye, or what shall I doo? Thy countenaunce (I knowe not how, nor wherefore) dooth some what renue my drooping hope, but my affayres hanging a long time in contrarie suspence, perswade mee to suspecte more cruell mishappes, which are of common course and custome incident to miserable creatures. Tell me therfore quickly, and hold me no longer in doubt, resolue mee, what the ocasion of this thy hast may importe? Tell me, whether [Page] any happy God, or haggishe furie hath driuen thée hether?

Then the olde woman hauing yet scarce recouered her winde, interrupting my wordes, and more ioyfull then be­fore, sayd. O swéete daughter reioyce, there is no cause of feare in my tidinges. Shake of all gréefe, and inuest thy mourning minde againe with thy shining robe of mirth, thy belooued and loouing loouer is returned. And Panphilus (Fi­ammetta) is at hand.

These angelicall wordes entred so déepe into my ama­zed minde, and filled it with such sodaine ioy, as my eyes dyd presently showe an euident testimony of the same, but my persuing gréefe, and haunting miseries did incontinently bereaue me of it, and made me giue no credite to them. Wherfore lamenting, I sayd. O my déere Nource by those thy manie yéeres, and by the aged body, which long since hath desi­red eternall repose, I pray thée, not to mocke me (a most mise­rable and distressed soule,) of whose cares and gréefes thou oughtest also to be partaker.Impossible thinges. For first will the cléere riuers (I thinke) returne to theyr first fountaines, and Hesperus will bring cléere day: First will Phebae with her brothers beames, giue light to the darke night, before my vngratefull loouer will returne. Who dooth not know (alas) that, dispor­ting him selfe with his new mistresse, he is lulled a sléepe in the secure cradle of all delightes, enioying his mery times, and loouing her more then euer he dyd me. And thinke more ouer (Fiammeta) that wheresoeuer he were now, he woulde returne to her againe, and therefore not likely to come from her, whom he looueth so etreamely, to me whome he infinit­ly hateth. But presently she added. O Fiammetta, as y^e gods shall receiue the parting soule of this withered, and olde bo­die thy carefull Nurce dooth not lie in one word she hath told thée. Nor dooth it become one of my age, with such or like tales to mocke distressed women, and thée especially, to whō I owe all the duetie, and looue I may. Then I replyed and sayd. How came these blessed newes to thy eares, and howe doost thou knowe them to be true, ah tell me quickly, because [Page 102] if they séeme probable in my iealious and doubtfull minde, I may reioyce my selfe with the happy vtteraunce & swéete accentes of them. And rising from the place where I was, a little gladder then before, and somewhat chéered in minde, I sat néerer to the Nource, and then she sayd. Rysing this morning very earlie about my proper busines, which lay néere to the Sea shoare, & earnestly musing on them, I went with a softe and slowe pace, with my backe turned towardes the Sea, when a certaine young Gentleman leaping a shoare out of a late arriued shippe, vnaduised caryed by the force of his skip, dyd boysterously and (as after I perceiued) against hys will fall against me. Wherefore I coniuring the Gods and with great choller turning towards him, to blame him for this receiued iniurie, with humble wordes he méekely craued pardon at my handes.

But earnestly looking on him, and marking well his ha­bitte, I iudged that he came from the coastes and countrie of thy belooued Panphilus, and therefore sayd to him. Gentleman (as the Goddes may be fauourable vnto you) of curtesie tell mée, if you come from any forraine country? Yes good woman, that I doo, sayd he againe. Then sayd I. Tell mée from whence good Sir if it please you. And he sayd, from the coastes of Hetruria, and from the most noble Cittie in the same I lately came, and of which I am. As soone as I heard this, I then knew him to be Panphilus his countriman: Wherefore I asked him, if he knewe Panphilus, and what was become of him.

And he aunswered that hee dyd knowe hym very well, and reported many good thinges to me in prayse and com­mendation of hym, and besides this sayde, that hée had now come with hym, if a lyttle businesse hadde not stayed hym there, but that (without al doubt) in a fewe dayes after he would come thether.

In the meane while, y^t we were thus talking, all hys companions, that came belike with hym leaping on shore, and ready to depart, he went away w^t them. I leauing aparte al other [Page] busines, with the greatest hast I could (thinking that I shold not haue liued so long, vntill I had told thée of it) came heather breathlesse and panting as thou séest. Wherfore liue now merrily once againe, and exile these sadde thoughtes. Which thinges, when she had spoken, with a most glad and ioyfull countenaunce I kissed her olde forheade, and yet with a doubtfull minde, I many times afterwads coniured her, and did aske her againe, if these newes were true, wishing euer in minde, that she should not tell the contrary, and doubting least she had deceiued me.The man­ner of those that doubt, But after that manie tymes with holy othes she dyd sweare, that she had told me nothing more then trueth, although that I and No wente wauering vp and downe my suspitious head, like a glade­some woman with these spéeches I rendered immortall thankes to the Gods, saying.

O supreme Iupiter most royall rectour and maiesticall soueraigne of the high heauens. O luminate and radiant Apollo, from whom nothing is hidde. O gratious Venus and most pittiful of thy subiects. O sacred Boy carrying the golden and swéete dartes be yée all praysed togeather and with equall honour magnified. Whosoeuer perseuereth in your hope, cannot perrish in his long and doubtfull trauels. Behold by your fauourable mercies, and not by my merits my desired Panphilus dooth returne, whom I shall not so soone sée, but that your alters (heretofore visited of mée with most lamentable and pittifull prayers, and washed with bitter teares) shall now with my obsequious handes be perfu­med with most swéete odours, and precious incense. And to thée Fortune full of pittie, turning now thy wrathfull face away from my manifolde euilles, will I presently giue, and erect the promysed image, with testimony of thy néede­full and imparted benefits.

But most humbly obtesting you all, with that humility and deuotion, which may make you most exorable, that you would deygne to take away all vnlucky occurrentes possi­ble to hinder my Panphilus in his determined iourney, and to conducte him hether as safe and sound, as euer he was [Page 103] héeretofore. My prayers finished (no otherwise then an vn­hoodded Faulcon) rousing my selfe vppe togeather, and clap­ping my handes, I beganne thus to say. O amorous brestes weakned with long consuming sorrowes, cast away from hence foorth all pinching cares, since that my déere loouer (remembring me againe) dooth now returne according to hys promise.

Driue away sorrowe, harbour no feare, and shake of the great shame, that dooth abound in afflicted and despised thinges, nor (as Fortune hath heretofore guided you) pre­sume not to entertayne any more gréeuous thoughtes, but dissolue now into nothing the darke clowdes of cruell desti­nies, and let euery semblaunce and thought of my miserable times depart now from me, let my merry and pleasaunt countenaunce returne againe, & be made capable to reioyce at this present felicitie, and let olde Fiammetta with her ruinated soule be altogeather blotted out of my memorie. Whilest ioyfullie I spake these wordes with my selfe, my hart beganne yet to doubt (I know not) what, and a sodaine searching colde (being ignoraunt of the cause therof) did ouer runne all my body, so that it countrechecked my will, readie to reioyce my minde.

Wherefore I remayned a good while as one astonyed in the very middest of my spéech.Miserable men neuer beleeue gladsome thinges. Alas that this inconueni­ence and faulte dooth haunt miserable and afflicted soules. That they cannot dispose and frame them selues to giue credence to ioyfull things, apparaunt almost, and told them for theyr good, and comforte. And admitte that their happy for­tune returne againe, it is irkesome neuerthelesse vnto them to be merry at all, but beléeuing it as a dreame, they slender­lie passe it away, as though it were not indéede. Wherfore lyke one halfe amazed with my self, I beganne to say. Who called me backe againe, or what forbadde me from my new commenced ioy? What dooth not Panphilus returne? True­ly yes.

Who dooth therefore commaund me to mourne againe. There is no way nowe left, nor do I sée any occasion to new [Page] make me fall into my olde sadnesse. Who dooth therefore for byde mée to decke my selfe with newe flowers, and to a­dorne my fine body with rich robes? Alas I knowe not, and yet I am forbidden (I knowe) by some secrete suggestion of sorrowe, and relique of hidden gréefe, of which my soule is not yet cléerely purged.

And standing on these doubtfull poynts, and in this sort against my will, as though I had not béene in my selfe, in the middest of all my doubtfull errours, great store of teares fell from my eyes, and in the chéefest of my new mery moode my accustomed lamentations abruptly disturbed it. And thus my long afflicted hart dyd by the euer running con­duites of my eyes send foorth her woonted & wastfull teares.

Signes of a minde deuining of thinges to come,And my vnconstant mynde (diuyning as it were of en­suing misery and of worse mishappes) did with great gréefe and lamentations (lyke the Sicilian hill) euaporate manie scalding sighes & sobbes, most manifest signes, by the which I doo nowe certainely knowe, that then there is some great and stormie tempest néere at hand, when without any blast of turbulent windes, the wary Sea-men perceiueth the calme and quiet seas beginne to swell. But yet desirous to ouer-come that which my minde would not, I sayd. O mise­rable woman, what ill news, and what misfortunes to come néedlesse doost thou fayne in thy suspicious mind. Say y^t this which thou foretellest of, may happen to thy doubting mind of consequent mishappes, thou fearest (alas) to late, and without any profitte at all.

From these wordes) therefore) euer after I applied my minde wholy to a new kinde of mirth, and I dyd (as well as I could) extinguishe all melancolique thoughts. And war­ning my faithfull Nurce to be dilligent about Panphilus his returne, I chaunged my mourning wéedes into gorge­ous and gallant vestmentes, and beganne to waxe very cu­rious, and carefull of my selfe, because least by my long af­fected countenaunce, and disordered attyre, I might not at his returne séeme vnloouely in his eyes.

My pale and leane chéekes beganne to recouer theyr [Page 104] lost and liuely collour, and recouering theyr forsaken plumpnes, beganne to waxe round againe. And my teares nowe dryed vp, tooke away with them also those redde and purple rainebowes, which encompassed my eyes round about: The which, being returned into their due places, receiued again theyr whole and perfect lyghtes.

And my withered chéekes, béeing somewhat broken and worne by continuall streames of teares, that washed them, grewe againe to theyr olde and former softnesse. And my neglected haire, although not sodainely they became not golden, they wanted not now their accustomed frizelings, and deintie deckinges, to make thē looke so passing fayre as once they did. And my déere and costly apparell, hauing a longe time line vnworne in swéete Indian presses, dyd now brauely set foorth my séemely body. What more? In bréefe,The effects of them that returne to be ioy­full againe. I tur­ned my paines to pleasures, my gréefes to gladnesse, my sighing to singing, my mourning to myrth, & made a renouati­on of my selfe, and of all thinges else that belonged to mee. And I made my selfe almost as beautifull as once I was, first, & brought my selfe well nie to my former estate & hap­pinesse of life, insomuch that the Gentlewomen my néere neighbours, my déere kinsfolkes, and my loouing husbande merueiled not a little at this sodaine chaung, saying to themselues.

What inspiration hath drawen her from so long sorow, and mittigated thus her continuall melancholie, which ney­ther by swéete and effectuall comfortes, nor by fréendly and loouing requestes, could heretofore be dryuen out of her ob­stinate minde. This is surely no lesse then a miracle. And as they wondered much at it, so were they also very gladde of this sodaine alteration. All my familie being very heauie a long time for my continuall tribulation, beganne with mée to reioyce now againe, and as my errours were altered, euen so it séemed that all thinges with the same were chan­ged from sorrowe into sollace. The dayes which erste I thought longer then they were wont to bee, dyd (by rea­son [Page] of the hope, which I had of Panphilus his returne, sée­ming now longest of all vnto mée) passe away (me [...] thought) with the slowest course, that might be. Nor the first were so well counted of me, but with greater care and dili­gēce I marked these. In space of which time, sometimes sitting with my selfe all alone, and thinking of my passed cares, and carefull thoughtes, I did now chéefely condemne them, saying.

O how hardly of late haue I thought of my déere louer, how rashlie haue I condemned his long staying, and howe foolishly haue I beléeued, that hee was wholy giuen ouer to the liking and looue of an other woman, induced thereunto but by the slender report of one of my lying seruauntes. Ac­cursed therefore be theyr buzzing tales. O Gods how can men with such open and impudent countenaunces tell a­broade false and shamelesse lyes. But euery thing (Fiammetta) should with more sound aduise of thy own part haue bene considered, then so soone & so easilie to haue giuen beléefe vnto them. I should (alas) haue counterpoysed the fayth of my loouer so many times sworn, and promised to me, & as many times againe w^t affectionate teares auowed, and should haue weighed the looue, that he bare me, and yet dooth with theyr fabulous wordes, false rumours, and base credittes, in the equall ballaunce of my right iudgement, who (without any sacrament of vrged othe, and my selfe not caring to enquire furder, and not desirous to knowe any more, then that they spake) tolde onely the bare reportes of others and with asse­ueration onely of their first opinions and superficical knowledge, which doo nowe manifestly appeare to bee erronious and false.

One alleadging, that he did se a young gentlewomen goe into Panphilus his fathers house, because he knew not any other younge gentleman perhappes there but hym, and not thinking of the vnséemely and common wantones of old do­tardes, or else (ignoraunt (perhappes) of her alliaunce with them) beléeued by and by that she was his wife, and so with­out any more a doo tolde it her who therefore did beléeue it, [Page 105] because shée tooke but little héede and care of him, that told it. An other, because he perceiued him sometimes to eye some faire Gentlewomen, or els to dally with her, which (might be) was his Kinswoman, or some one, with whom hee was familiarly and honestly acquainted, did iudge her to bee his also, and affirming it againe with simple words to me, I did like a simple Woman beléeue the same. O that I had moste duely pondered these things in my minde, how many teares what infinite sighes, and what extreame gréefe had I neuer felt. But what thing can an enamored and silly Woman aduisedlie ponderate in her minde, and directlie doo? As sun­dry forces assaile vs, so doo they tosse and turne our minds to euerie change. And simple Louers easily beléeue all thinges. Because loue is a passion full of care and feare.Loue is a thing ful of care and feare. For by conti­nuall vse they addict themselues alwaies to hurtfull acci­dents, and desiring manie thinges, beléeue most possibilities, contrarie to their troubled fancies, so fixing their irremooue­able mindes vppon the first, that to the second reportes, and things, they giue small beléefe or none at all. But I am to be helde excused: and therefore I alwaies prayed the Goddes that they would make me a lyer in my fonde imaginations and beléefe.

But behold my prayers are heard, and he shal neuer vn­derstand of these wordes which I haue spoken against him, which if he did know, he could say nothing els, but that they procéeded from the feruent loue I bare him. For howe déere a thing should it be to him, to heare of my torments, & gréefe of minde, and to know of my passed and preuented perilles for his sake, because these are moste true arguments of my vndoubted loue and faith, and I can scarce thinke otherwise, but that he hath taried so long, and to none other ende, but onely to prooue, if with a constant minde I coulde (without forgetting him) attend his comming againe. Behold there­fore, and with what force of minde I haue expected him? Wherefore from hencefoorth when hee shall perceiue, wyth what paine & teares, and with how many millions of mar­tyring thoughts I haue looked for him, loue shall be borne a­newe [Page] againe in him, and no other God. Ah when shall it come to passe, that hée (béeing once arriued) shall sée me, and I him againe?

God seeth all thingsO yée Goddes, which from your high thrones contem­plate all thinges héere beneath, may I temper and mode­rate my eager desire, from embracing his bodie before all men, as soone as I shall sée him? Truelie I beléeue I shall hardlie doo it. O bounteous Gods when shall it bee, that en­folding him straightly betwéene mine armes, I shall render him treble againe those kisses, which at his departure hee gaue to my dying lyppes, without any exchaunge for them againe? Certes the presage which I noted, that I was not able to bidde him farewell, is nowe true, and by y^t the Gods haue verie well declared to me his returne. O yée gracious Gods, when will that time come, when I may ioyfully re­count vnto him the Seas of salt teares, and the worldes of woes, which I haue passed, and worne out, and when shall I knowe the occasion of his long and sorrowfull absence? shal I liue so long? Alas I scarcely think it. Ah let that day come quicklie, because death (not long since, so often called, and procured of me) doth nowe terrify mee, which, (if possiblye my prayers can enter into his eares) I humbly beséech, that flying farre from me, he would let mee spende the remain­der of my yong yéeres in ioy and pleasure with my beloued Panphilus. I was therefore verie carefull, that no day shold passe me, wherein I did not employe my whole study and diligence, to bee verie inquisitiue of Panphilus his returne, and to heare also of some true newes of him. And my déere Nurce was not negligent in séeking out the yong Gentle­man, & bringer of these glad tidings, because she might with more surenes be acertained of that, which she had tolde mée, which thing she did not only once, but as often times as cō ­ueniently she could (and as many times as she had doone be­fore) she did alwaies bring mee worde, that his returne was nigh at hand. Wherfore I did not onely expect the promised time, but procéeding a little further, I did imagine it possi­ble, [Page 106] that he was now come. And therfore a hundred times in the day, I did runne sometimes beneath to the dore, & some­times to the windowe, looking round about me a great way if I might perceiue him come. And I sawe not any manne comming a farre of that way, that he should come, but I dyd verilie imagine, that it was he, and with great desire didde looke on him so long, vntill cōming néerer vnto me, I might easily perceiue that it was not he. Whereat béeing some­what gréeued in minde, I looked out to sée if any other came, and sometimes one, and now another passing by, and séeing that none of them was hee, I remained (my gréedy desire and hope deceiued) ful of confusion, and very angry with my selfe.

And if I was perhaps called into the house, or els by some other vrgent occasion went from the windowe, a hun­dred thousand thoughts (as if a multitude of dogs grinding their téeth at me, had bittē my soule) did sting and molest me saying to my selfe. Alas euen now (perhaps) he goeth by, or els is already passed, whilst thou art héere busied about not so contented an office: and immediatly I went againe to sée if I coulde sée him come,Reade Ari­osto of her that atten­ded the re­turne of her Louer. making it but a short time be­twéene going downe to the dore, and running quickly vp to the window againe. Ah poore soule, and wretched Woman, how much sorrow and how many troubles diddest thou su­stayne for him, whom howrely looking for thou couldest ne­uer perceiue to come. But after that the day was come, in which my Nurce told mee, that he should arriue, and of the which, she had so often foretold me, I adorned my selfe no otherwise then Alcmena did, when she heard that her Am­phitrio was at hande, and wyth my mastering hand left not any thing in me vnbeautified, but sette forth in the best and brauest order, and in the finest fashion.

And I coulde scarce kéepe my selfe in, from going to the Sea syde, because I myght the sooner see hym, be­cause (also) I hearde certaine newes of the arriual of those Gallies, in the which my Nurce vnderstood and certified me [Page] that he should come. But thinking with my selfe, that the first Saint, that he would visite on shoare was my selfe, I (therefore) bridled my earnest and hote desire. But in fine (as I rightlie gesse) he came not at all: whereuppon I be­ganne beyonde all measure to meruaile, and in the middes of my late ioye, arised in my minde diuers kinds of doubtes, which were not so easilie ouerthrowne by superficicall sup­positions of his comming, or by any other shaddowes of glad some thoughts. After a little while therefore, I sent the old Woman to know what was become of him, and whether he was come or not? who went as it séemed, with such an vnwilling minde, and with as flow a pace, which did diuine of some consequent and sorrowfull tydinges. Wherefore I accursed many times with my selfe, and with greate anger blamed her crooked steppes and aged paces. Who staying but a little time abroade, came to me againe with a sorrow­full chéere, and dull gate.

Signes of one that bringeth ill newesAlas when I sawe her come in this sort, I could hardlie containe my soule in my bodie, and therefore suddainly ima­gined that my Louer was deade by the way, or els that hee was arriued verie sicke. The colour of my face chaunged a thousande times in one instant, and going to méete the drea­ming Nurce, I saide vnto her. Tel me quickly what newes doost thou bring? Doth my Louer liue. Shee chaunged not her gate, nor answered me one word. And béeing nowe en­tred into my Chamber, and setting her selfe downe, looked me very pittifullie in the face. Wherefore euerie parte of my bodie being shaken like the tender Aspen leaues, by some soft winde, I did beginne nowe to tremble, and hardly re­straining my teares, I crossed myne armes, and did put my hands into my sorrowfull bosome, saying.

If thou doost not tell me quickly, what this thy sorrow­full countenaunce doth meane, and what these sadde signes which thou doost bring with thée doo signify, there shall not any part of my garments remaine whole to my body, nor hayre vntorne from my head. What secrete occasion there­fore may it be, that mooueth thée from telling it, but onelye [Page 107] that, which I feare will prooue ominous vnto mee. Conceale it no longer, but declare it, whilst I am attending for worse What (tell me at a worde) liueth my Panphilus? She pric­ked on by my angrie wordes, and threatnings, with a lowe voice, and looking downe to the grounde saide. Hee lyueth. Then said I againe, wherefore doost thou not tell me quick­lie. What enuious accidents stay him from cōming hether? Why doost thou hold me in suspence, and wauering amidst a thousand fearefull surmises? Is he sicke with any malladie? Or what froward occasion doth with-holde him, that beeing come out of the Gally, he doth not come to sée me. Then shée said. I knowe not whether want of health, or any other mis­chaunce doth detaine him. Then said I againe, hast thou not séene him? or is he not yet come? I haue séene him sayd she, and he is come, but not the same whom we did expect. Howe art thou sure said I that he is not my Panphilus? Hast thou séene him at any other time, and didst thou nowe behold and marke him well? Truelie said she, I did neuer sée him, that I wote of, but béeing euen nowe broughte vnto him by that yong Gentleman, who tolde me the first newes of hys re­turne, and telling him, that I had oftentimes enquired for him, he asked me what I would with him? His health and welfare said I. And I demaunding of him, how his old Fa­ther did, and in what estate the rest of his thinges stood, and what was the cause of his long staying since his departure, he answered, that he neuer knewe his Father, and that hée was a posthumus borne,Posthumus is he that is borne after his Fathers death and that all his thinges were in good plight, and that he had neuer béene héere before, and did meane to stay héere but a small time. These thinges made me to wonder, and doubting least I was deceiued, I asked him his name, which curteously and plainly he tolde me, and I no sooner hearde it, but immediatly I perceiued, by y^e iden­tity and likenes of it, with the name of thy beloued Panphi­lus, both thée and my selfe to be greatly deceiued. When I hearde these thinges (most pittifull Ladyes) mine eyes for­sooke their lights, & euery sensitiue spirit, for feare of death,Effectes of a suddaine passion went their wayes, and falling downe in the place where I [Page] satte, there remained no more force in my body, then was scarce able to breathe forth one poore (alas.) Which (when the miserable olde Woman perceiued) lamenting greatly, and calling the rest of my Women about mee, caryed mee like a dead woman to my bedde, and there labouring to re­duce my wandering spirits with colde water, beléeuing a great while together to recouer life, and yet misdoubting al so the same, they watched me with diligent care. But after that my forsaken forces came to me againe, and after I had powred foorth many teares and sighes, I asked the sorrow­full Nurce an other time, if it were so, as she had sayd. And besides this, remembring with my selfe, howe warye and discrete Panphilus was wont to bee, and suspecting that hee had wisely and of purpose made himselfe vnknowne to the Nurce, with whom he had neuer talked in his life before, I wylled, that she should describe vnto me the countenaunce, the feyture, the gesture, the personage, and the fashions of that Panphilus with whom she had talked. But shee affyr­ming first with an oath, that it was no lesse, and no other­wyse then she had tolde me, declared to mee afterwardes in order, his stature, the lineaments of his body & face, and last of all, the manner of his apparrell. All which (alas) made mee gyue too great faith to that, which the olde woman told me.

Wherefore thruste of from all hope, I reentred into my former woes, and rysing vppe like a franticke Woman, I pulled of my sumptuous garments of ioy, and layd aside my once déere, but now vnpleasant ornaments, and my friseled shyning hayre, with an enuious Hecuba hand, I tore out of order, and did carelesly ruffle them together, and despysing all comfort, I beganne most bitterly to complaine of my in­cessant, and miserable mishaps, and with cruell wordes to condemne my failed hope, and to blame the good thoughts, and like concealed opinions of my vntrue and wycked Lo­uer.

And in bréefe, I returned wholy to my olde life of my­series, [Page 108] and hadde a more earnest and feruent desire of death then before, which I had not escaped,Hope doth still keepe one in life (as yet I haue) but that the hope of my intended voyage, with no little force with-helde me from performaunce of it.

IN this kinde of lyfe therefore (most pittifull Ladies) I haue remained, as by the re­counted and passed accidents you may geather. And by how much my vngratefull Lord, dooth sée my hope fly from me, by so much y^e more dooth he worke stranger effects in me, then he was wont to doo, and blowing with more hot desires the glowing coles of looue in my smothered breast, dooth make them grea­ter then before, which, as on the one side they doo mightilie encrease, so are my paines and sorrows on the other by like proportion augmented. Which neuer béeing with due oynt­ment asswaged of me, are by my own will and follies, made more gréeuous and insupportable: And béeing more sharpe doo more afflicte my sorrowfull and woefull minde. And I doubt not (but following theyr headlong course) they will at length with some honest meane open mee the way of death, which heretofore I haue so long, and vnfainedly de­sired. But yet hauing my assured hope as I haue alreadie sayd in my pretended voyage to finde, and sée him (ah that vngratefull Panphilus I meane) who is the originall of all this, I did not séeke to mittigate them, but was rather [Page] now resolued (as wel as I could) constantly to endure them. For performaunce of which, I found out one onely possible way amongst many others,To resem­ble ones paine with an others greefes is a lightning of sorrowe. which was, to compare and measure my paines, with theirs, who had likewise passed suche bruntes as my selfe, fighting vnder the amorous ensignes, and in the dollorous battayles of looue. Wherof I thinke to reape a double commodity.

First in knowing my selfe not the first, nor to be alone afflicted with misery, as not long since my Nurce, in her alleaged comfortes told me. Secondly, that euery gréefe, payne, and pange of their looue, being (in my iudgement) sufficiently recompenced, I determined and resolued with my selfe to passe away euer after with my former, euery o­ther gréefe whatsoeuer: which I recken no little glory to me, when I may say, that I am onely she, that liuing hath sustained more gréefe and misery then any other woman: And with this kinde of glorie (forsaken yet of euery one as extreame misery indéede, and of my selfe (alas) if I could o­therwise doo) in this sorte as you shall heare, I passed away my melancholie times. I say therefore, that martired with these continuall anguishes and considering well of others who haue not béene exempted from the lyke, the painefull looues of Inacus his daughter (who being first a tender and delicate damsell, and passing loouely and beautifull, did séeme liuely to represent me) came to my minde, and afterwards, her great good happe and happy felicitie, in that she was not meanely belooued of mightie Ioue. Which thing doubtlesse cold not be of her onely but of euery womā also accompted a great glory and praise. Afterwardes considering howe shee was metamorphised into a Cowe, and how by the seuere commaunde of iealious Iuno, she was kept of vigilant Ar­gus, I did iudge her to be beyond all measure tormēted with great anxieties and gréefe of mind. And certes I am of opi­nion, that her gréefs did greatly excéede mine, if that for her company & comfort she had not had sometimes the assistance of her loouing God. And who dooth doubt, if I had the swéete company of my loouer, who might any time haue helped me [Page 110] in these ruthfull passions, or that he had but sometimes ta­ken any little pittie of me, that any woes whatsoeuer coulde haue annoyed me so, as they haue continually doone? Be­des this, her ende made her passed and approoued sorrowes, very light. Because Argus being killed by her loouers mes­senger, and she transported lightly with her heauie body into Egipt, and returned there to her owne shape againe, and maryed to Ostiris, she sawe her selfe at last installed in the Emperiall diademe and like a happy Quéene to sway the regal scepter of Egipt. If I could but thinke, or hope though in my olde age to sée my Panphilus once againe, I would say that my gréefes were not to be compared with the sorrowes of this Lady, But the Gods onely knowe, if this good for­tune shall euer happē to me or no, howsoeuer with false hope in the meane time I delude and flatter my selfe.The grea­ter part of these fables are in Ouide. Next to her the vnfortunate looue of Biblis is represented vnto my thoughts, whom (me thinke) I sée forsake, all her wealth, ioy and pleasure to followe vnflexible Caunus. And with these, I bethinke my selfe also of wicked Mirrha, who, after the detested fruition of her odious looues, flying from her angry Father, who pursued her with menaces of iust death, plun­ged also into that misery

I behold also dolorus Canace, who, after the miserable byrth of her incestious conceptiō, looked for nothing lesse but death. And thinking well with my selfe of their seuerall sorrowes, I dyd doubtlesse estéeme them to be extreame, al­though their looues were but filthy and abhominable lustes. But if I am not deceiued, I sée them all ended, or else in shorte space to be terminated. Because Mirrha flying away, hauing the Goddes pittifull of her paines, and aunswerable to her desires, was with delay transformed into a trée of her owne name.

And shee neuer after (although it dooth continually destill Amber teares, as shee dyd at the very instant, when her forme was changed) felte any of her former paynes and playntes. And as the occasion of her sorrowes dyd aryse, so the cause of theyr pryuation, was not al­so [Page] wanting. Biblis likewise (as some say) without any longer delay ended her dolefull daies with a cruell halter, admitte, that others holde, that by great fauour of the Nim­phes, (who did commisserate her harde destinies) she was turned into a fountaine of her owne name, till this day yet kéeping the same.

And this befell to her when she knew that Caumus deni­ed her, her desires, and scornefully reiected her companie, and with frowning browes reprooued her wicked sutes. What shal I say in shewing my owne paines, greater (alas) then those, that molested Biblis, & more gréeuous, then those, that Mirrha had, but that the breuiety of them hath had no small aduantage ouer the length of mine. Those therefore well considered, the pittifull looues of haplesse Pyramus and Thisbe were next obiected to my remembraunce, of whome (I cannot but take great compassion, imagining them both to be young and with great trouble, & many sorowes to haue burned in each others looue, and labouring with mutuall presence to haue reaped the fruite of theyr feruent desires, which with vntimely death and in shorte time were equal­lie dissolued.

O what a pittifull thing is it to thinke, what gréefe pear­ced poore Pyramus his hart, when, in the silent time of night finding his déere Thisbes robes, bloody and torne of the wild beast at the foote of the Mulbery trée, néere vnto the foūtaine and appointed méeting place, by these dismall & vnexpected tokens, he surely thought that she was deuoured. The shea­thing certes of his own sword in his inpatiēt breast did shew it manifestly enough. Afterwards discoursing in my minde the wounding thoughtes of miserable Thisbe, beholding her loouer wallowing in his owne goare, and pāting yet with declining life, I thinke them to be so gréeuous, and imagine her teares also to be such burning droppes, that I can hardlie beléeue that there were euer any (myne owne excepted) that dyd torment, and scalde more, then hyrs. Wherefore these two (as it is now sayd) in the very beginning of theyr gréefes, and looues dyd ende the very same. O thrise [Page 111] happy soules, if that in the other world, as in this their per­fect and firme looue dooth, still remaine inuiolate. And so, the paynes, cares and infinite woes, of all theyr former looue could not be equiualent with the delightes, and content of their eternall company.

After these the gréefe of forsaken Dido entred with grea­ter force and déeper consideration into my minde, because her condition did of all others most resemble mine. I imagi­ned how she was building of Carthage, and studying with great Maiesty to dictate lawes in Iunos temple, to her new people: And how she gaue bountifull entertainment to Aene­as a straunger vnto her, by enuious tempests of y^e Sea wea­therbeaten, and cast vpon her Libian shores, and how she was enamoured of his braue personage, and passing vertues and at last howe she committed both her selfe, and all hirs to the disposition and pleasure of that Troyan Duke. Who hauing vsed her royall Pallaces at his pleasure, and soaked himselfe in all manner of delices in her countrie, she being euery day more and more enflamed with his looue, abando­ning her at last, departed from thence. O how much with­out compare did she séeme miserable in my conceite, behol­ding her looking from her highest turrettes towards the sea, couered with disankred shippes of her flying and vnpittifull loouer.

But I iudge her more impatient, then dollorous, when I thinke of her cruell death. And certes at the first departure of my Panphilus I felt (in my oppinion) the very selfe same gréefe, as she did on the sodaine endure, at the sayling away of false Aeneas. O that it had so pleased the Goddes that I, as vnable to endure my gréefe, as she was hers, had with some sodaine death ended my loathed life, so that by these meanes I might haue deliuered my selfe from these paines, and sor­rowes, as she dyd her selfe, which afterwardes (by defaulte thereof) dyd continually cleaue in sunder my afflicted hart. After these miserable thoughtes, and the ruthfull chaunces of vnhappy Heroe of Sesto came to my minde, whome (mee thought I sawe comming downe from her highest Tower [Page] to the Sea bankes and rockes, where she was wont some­times to méete and receiue her welbelooued and wearied Leander into her armes.

And euen there againe (mée thinks) I se her w^t what a pittifull & pale countenance she beheld her loouer lying dead before her,Sorrow ceaseth when hope is past to regaine the thing which is lost, driuē first on shore by a fréendly Dolphin, al naked, & souced in brinish waters, & laid along vpon the Sea sands, & wiping with her garmentes the salte water from his pale visage, and drowning hym the second time with the flowing streames of her swelling teares. Ah what great pittie dooth her cruell passages finde in my sorrowfull mind. More truelie then any of those of the foresayd ladyes, and sometimes so much, that forgetting my owne woes, I did wéepe and la­ment for hirs.

And lastly cold I conceiue no meanes for her cōfort but one of these two, either to die, or else to forget him, as other dead men haue béene: In taking eyther of which her sorrowes (I thinke) might haue easilie béene finished. Considering that no lost thing, in recouering of which againe, there is no hope lefte, can gréeue vs any long time. But yet the Goddes for­bidde, that this kinde of comfort should happen to me, which if it did come to passe, no counsel in such a case should auaile but that, which perswaded me once to a resolute and hasty death. For during the time that my Panphilus liueth, whose lyfe his happie starres, and predominante planettes pre­serue as long, as he himself dooth desire, that cannot (I hope) nor shall not befall vnto me. But séeing the enter course of mundane thinges in continuall motion, this beléefe is added to my hope, that in the end, or else (perhappes) before, he shall returne, and be mine againe, as once he was: which linge­ring hope not comming to effect, dooth howerly make my life gréeuous and irkesome vnto mée. And by thus much therfore, I estéeme my selfe oppressed with greater sorrowe then she was. I remēber y^t in French méeters, to which if any credite may be lent, I haue sometimes read that Sir Tristram, and Lady Isotta haue more then any other loouers,French Rimes, mutually [Page 112] and feruentlie looued each other, and with their chaunging delightes, haue had great misfortunes and aduersities enter mingled, euen in the floorishing and brauest time of theyr youth, who, because, loouing greatly togeather, they haue ta­sted both of one ende, it séemes most credible, that not with­out extreame sorrowe and bitter gréefe on bothsides, they forsooke their worldly delightes.

Which may be easilie graunted, if in abandoning this world they thought that in the other, the same could not bée found or had. But if they had this opinion, that they were as ample and common in the other (as they had in déede) then it is to be thought, that death had rather aforeded them some great content and ioy, then any sorrow and feare at all. For what certaintie of gréefe may one giue with testimonie of a thing, which he neuer prooued. None at all truely. In Syr Tristram his armes was his owne death, and the death of hys Lady also.

For if, in embracing her body so straightly and loouingly it had gréeued her at all, in opening his armes againe, the payne (no doubt) had ceased. And yet for all this, let vs admit and say, that it is by great reason most fearefull, and grée­uous to tast of: what gréefe can wée say to be absolutely in a thing, that dooth come to passe but onely once, and which dooth occupie but a little space of time? Certes none. Sir Tristram therfore & Isotta in one hower ended their delightes, & dollours. The continued time of my stretching gréefe, and lasting sorrowe, hath without comparison greatly excéeded the breuitie of my enioyed myrth and ioyes. But amongest the number of these foresayd loouers, my minde did thinke of miserable Phedra, who with her voluntary and aduised furie, was y^e occasion of his most cruel death, whom she loued more then her selfe: & I knowe not truely, what dammage & great inconuenience did follow her of such a great fault, but I am certaine, if y^e like had euer happened to me, there had bene nothing but violent death, y^t might expiate y^e guilt ther­of: but if she liued, she buried him afterward in darck obliuiō as [Page] commonly all thinges (as euen now I sayd) are wont to bée forgotten by death. And besides these sorowes which Laoda­mia, Deiphyle Argia, Euadne, & Deianira, and many others felte, followed hers in my scanning thoughts: all which ey­ther by violent death, or by necessary obliuion receiued some comfort at last.

Fier the lō ­ger it remaineth in any thing the more it burneth.And who doubteth that burning fire, red hotte iron, and melted leade, dooth not gréeuously burne and scalde his fin­ger, who dooth but sodainely dippe it in, and dooth quickly pull it out againe: Why, none I thinke: And yet this is no­thing to that extreame payne, whose whole body is in eyther of these tormented and plunged for a good space togeather: wherfore how many soeuer I haue described aboue in woes, sorowes & paynes, the same may be said to be but a momen­tarie while in their superficiall and counterfeite gréefes, whereas I haue really felt them, continually béene in them, and am not yet frée from them. Wherefore all these foresayd woes, in respect of mine, haue béene but amorous annoyaunces. But besides these miserable women, the no lesse sorrow­ful teres powred forth of those, who w^t the vnexpected brunts of cruell fortune haue béene confounded, came before mine eyes.

And these are those of Iocasta, Hecuba, Sophonisba, Cornelia and Cleopatra. O how much myserie (considering well the miserable successe of Iocastas looues) doo we sée befallen vnto her in all her life time, possible enough to haue daunted and troubled the most stout and strongest minde. For she be­ing very young, was maried to Layus King of Thebes, who commaunded, that her first childe should be throwen out to be deuowred of wilde Beastes, the miserable Father thin­king by this, to haue preuented that which the heauens and his ineuitable destinies, with infallible course had prepared for him. O what a gréefe must (I néedes thinke,) that this was to her soule, considering the degrée of her that sente it, and that with her owne handes she was constrained to de­liuer, and to sende it to a cruell kinde of death: and afterwardes certified by them, that caried her vnfortunate infante, of [Page 113] his mangled and deuoured corpes, with what intollerable gréefe she beléeued, that he was deade indéede. And to see her haplesse Husband most miserably slaine of him, whom hee had engendred in her owne bowels, and that she her selfe af­terwards espoused to her vnknowne Son, had by him foure children. And so how almost in one howre she sawe her selfe mother, and wife to this wicked Parricide: whom after shée had perfectly knowne, when she sawe him depriued first of his eyes, and last of his kingdom, and how his execrable fact and detested life was published to y^e whole worlde. In what miserable plight her soule was then, oppressed nowe wyth manie yéeres, which were rather desirous of repose, then méete to be diminished with restles anguish, shee may well thinke, and iudge, who hath béene tossed with the greatest, or with like gréefes of minde. But yet her dispiteous and cru­ell Fortune heaped vppon her extreame misery, greater and more bitter woes. For séeing the yéerely entercourse & suc­cessiue raigne of her two Sonnes, with mutuall compositi­tion deuided betwéene them. And afterwardes the faithlesse brother pynned vppe in the Cittie, and séeing the greatest part of Greece vnder the regiment of seauen Kings, lastly, after manie blooddie battailes, consuming fires, myserable spoyle of Virgins, wiues, and goods. When shee behelde one of her prodigious Sons vnnaturally to embrew his sworde in his owne brothers blood, and when her Husbands Sonne driuen out, and exiled into an other Kingdome, she sawe the auncient and olde walles of her noble Cittie builded firste by the swéete harmonie of Amphitrion his Cythern, pitti­fullie ruinated and beaten downe. And howe her late flori­shing kingdome was miserably diuided and vtterlie dissol­ued: and hauing hanged her selfe, left perhaps her Daugh­ter in a most ignominous and shamefull life. What coulde the angry Goddes, the world, froward Fortune, and the ma­licious Hagges of hell haue conspired more against her. No­thing certes in my opinion.

For let that gastly place be surueyed, and euery torture therein duelie considered, and yet I hardlie beléeue y^t there [Page] coulde not in the same such extreame torments and paines be founde. Wherefore I approoue and say, that euery & least particle of her anguish, and of her fault to be most gréeuous, and no lesse impious. And as there is no woman that would iudge, that my gréefe were not to be compared to the great­nes of this, so (truely) would I also say, had not mine béene amorous.

For who doubteth but that she knewe, (séeing the ab­hominable crymes of her wicked house, and of vnnaturall Husband (worthy of the condigne anger of the Goddes) that duely scanned these aduerse accidents) these horrible acci­dents to be meritorious punishmēts for such heynous guilt, and barbarous impietie. None truely, that would iudge her to be in her right witts. And if she were but a foole shee felt her gréefes the lesse, because (not fully knowing the waight of them) they could not so greatly gréeue her. And whosoe­uer knoweth her selfe woorthy of such calamities & troubles that she endureth, with little gréefe or none at all, shee resol­ueth with her selfe more patientlie to passe them away. But I neuer committed anie thing, wherewith the Gods might iustly be offended with me, hauing with continual offerings honored them, and with holy victimie besought their diuine graces, neuer despysing their Godheads, as in times past the Thebanes most wickedly did. But perhappes some one may well obiect and say. Howe canst thou affirme, that thou hast not deserued punishment, or that thou hast not committed anie fault? Why, hast thou not violated the holy lawes, and with an adulterous youthe defiled thy marriage bedde? yes truely.

But if this matter bee well propounded, as I haue not my selfe onely doone thys cryme, so dooth it not deserue (I thinke) so greate punishment, and such gréeuous paynes. Because shée must thinke, that I being a tender yong Gen­tlewoman, was not able to gainesaye and resiste that, which the strongest menne in the world, nay the Gods themselues coulde not doo.

And as I am not the first, that hath committed such a fréendly fault, so am I not alone, and shall not bee the laste, but hauing almost all Women in the worlde my compani­ons in this excusable errour, I am not so greatly to bee con­demned for the same. And those lawes which I haue infrin­ged, are of common course wont fauourably to pardon a multitude.

My fault moreouer, as it was most secrete, so it shoulde not therefore be so seuerely and thorowlie punished.A secrete fault is halfe par­doned. And be­sides all this, Say that the Goddes were iustly stirred vppe to wrath against mee, and did seeke to giue mée sharpe cor­rections for my great offences, were it not a greater parte of iustice, and more reason to punish him, who was the occa­sion of my fall? Nowe whither burning and lawles loue,He that is the occasi­on of sinne ought wor­thely to be punished. or Panphilus his rare beauty, braue personage, and quallities induced me to corrupt the sacred lawes of wedlock, I know not, but knowing too too well, that both the one and the o­ther were of most great force to torment me most stranglie. So that this nowe did not happen by the sinne committed, but is rather a newe gréefe and sequestred from y^e rest more cruelly cruciating the patient and sustayner of it, then anie other.

The which moreouer, if the Goddes for my commit­ted offence had giuen me, they shoulde doo contrary to theyr right iudgment and accustomed manner, in that they should not with the sinne recompence the punishment, which bée­ing compared to the due paynes of Iocasta, and to her deser­ued defaults, and considering mine owne errors, and the se­uere punishment, which I doo suffer for the same, shee must néedes be saide to be but slightly punished, and my selfe with too rigorous chastisement, and vnmeasurable paine, to be corrected. Nor let not any take holde of this, that shee was be­reaued of her Kingdome, depryued of her Sonnes, despoyled of her Husband, and last of all, of her owne life, and I but onely of my Louer. All which truely I confesse.

But spyghtful Fortune caryed away with this Louer, all my felicitie, though that, (which perhappes in other [Page] mens sight and iudgment was accounted happines) hath stil remained with me, and which is cléene contrarie to my de­sires. Because my Husband, my parents, my riches, and all things els besides are a most gréeuous burden vnto mée, and nothing congruant with my wished content. Which things if she had taken from me, as she did my Louer, there had thē remained a most open way for me to haue fulfilled my de­sires, which vndoubtedly I would haue followed. By which if I could not haue brought to passe my wil, then were there a thousand kinds of deathes readie for me, to haue rydde me from all my woes and miseries. Wherefore I iustly thinke that my paines are much more greater, then any of the foresaide.

HecubaMe thinkes that next after these, I sée Hecuba cōming to my minde, passing sorrowfull in her countenaunce, who escaped from that generall ruine, and suruiuing onely to be­hold the dolefull and destroyed Reliques of so goodly a king­dome, the subuersion of such an admirable Cittie, the cruell death of so Princly a Husbande, of so many renowned sons, and most faire daughters, to sée the destruction of so manie magnanimious Nephewes, valiant Cosins and Allyes, the rapine of so great riches, the hauocke of infinite treasure, the spoyle of so manie Virgins, the rauishment of wiues, and of all sorts of Women, the extinction of such excellencie, y^e losse of so many Kinges hewed and slaine right downe, such blo­die massacres, and pittiful stratagemes, of the dismayed and betrayed Troyans, the impietie perpetrated in y^e Temples polluted, battered and made plaine with the ground, and the indignitie and irreuerence doone to their dishonoured & cha­sed Goddes. And séeing her selfe to be olde, and sorrowfully recalling to her wounded minde, what mighty Hector was, what valiant Troylus, what doughtie Deiphobus, & what her yongest darling Polydore, and the shyning vertues of manie noble men more, and howe vnfortunatlie shee sawe them all die, remembring also howe the generous bloode of her late mighty and maiesticall Husbande was cruelly shed in her own lappe before the holie Aulters, and how she saw [Page 115] fatall Troy, whilome reared vppe to the skyes with stately, Towres, famous for magnificent buildings, full of princely Pallaces, and very populous with noble and worthy Citti­zens, consumed with deuouring flames, and wholy rased frō the earth.

And besides all this, the pittifull sacrifice of her fayre Daughter Polyxena, offered vppe by vnpittifull Pyrrhus, to the shadow of Achilles. Oh with what excessiue greefe and anguish of minde (must we néedes thinke) that shee be­helde all these thinges. But short was the sorrowe, which her olde and féeble minde, not able to endure the same, wan­dering out of her right course, made her madde, as her bar­king complaints amiddes the fieldes and woods did plainely shew. But I with a more firme and perfect memory, then is néedefull for such woes, to my great gréefe doo continually remaine in my sorrowfull and sound witts, and doo discerne more and more, the preposterous occasions of my present woes, and of my future sorrowes. Because my manyfolde harmes enduring longer then hers, I thinke them (be they neuer so light) to be more gréeuous (as I haue many times said) then the greatest and most sensible paines which is en­ded in a short time.

Sophonisba (equally participating the aduersities in her Widdowhoode,Sophonisba and the ioy of her mariage in one & selfe same moment almost of time, iocande and sad, an honorable and glad spouse, and a poore prisoner, inuested and despoyled of a Kingdome, and finally in these shorte alterations of tot­tering Fortune, drinking her fatall poyson, (full of anguishe and deadly gréefe) appeareth next vnto my thoughts. Behold her sometimes a most high and famous Quéene of the Nu­midians, afterwards the martiall affayres of her Parents and fréends hauing but an aduerse and lucklesse issue, her Husbande Siphax taken from her, and become prisoner to Massinissa King of Marsilia, (warring vnder the Romaine Ensignes) and her selfe in one howre depriued of her King­dome, and prysoner also in the mids of her enemies Campe, Massinissa afterwardes making her his wife, and she resto­red [Page] to the same againe.

O with what despight, gréefe, and bitter anguishe of mind, doo I beléeue that shee sawe these thinges succéede ab­ruptlie one after another. Nor yet secure of her voluble and flattering Fortune, with howe heauy a hart did shee ce­lebrate her newe espousalles, which gréefes and extreame myseries, with a tragicall ende at last, and with a stout en­terprise, she did fully finish. Because not one naturall day, after the nuptiall rytes béeing yet spent, and scarcely think­ing with her selfe, that she remained in the regiment, and that she did beare the former sway of Scepter, and warring thus within her selfe, and thinking of the newe loue of Mas­sinissa, not framed well to her minde, the olde loue of Siphax béeing not yet extinct, with no trembling hart, but wyth a bolde hande, receiued the mortiferous poysonne, which her newe Husbande sent her by her owne Seruaunt, (the fear­full messenger of her vntimely death, and with certaine dis­pitifull, and premised spéeches, without any signe and token of feare in her resolute face, druncke of the same, immediat­ly after yéelding vppe her ghost.

O how bitter may one imagine that her life was, if she had had any longer time to meditate, and think of her death, that did followe. Who therefore is not to be placed, but a­mongst those Women,To think of greefe ma­keth it greater. who haue béene but meanely and not much afflicted with sorow, considering that her spéedy death did preuent her beginning woes, where as mine haue conti­nued with me a long time together, and yet doo accompanye me against my wyll, and are sworne to remaine styll wyth me, to make themselues more mighty thereby, & with their vnited forces to infest more their vsurped habitation. After her, doleful Cornelia oppressed with infinit sorrow was ob­iected to my musing thoughts,Cornelia whō smiling Fortune had ex­alted so high, to make her y^e first wife of Crassus, and after­wards great Pompey his spouse, whose worthy valor had almost gotten him y^e chiefest principality in Rome, & attayned to y^e sole gouernmēt of all the Empire annexed vnto it. Who notwithstanding-after that frowning Fortune changed her [Page 116] copie, in maner of a fugitiue fled miserably out of Rome, and afterwards out of all Italy, her selfe also with her husbande béeing fiercely pursued of conquering Caesar. And leauing her in Lesboe, after many turmoyles of inconstant fortune, ouercomming his puissaunt competitour in Thessaly, by whose discomfiture and ouerthrowe, hee recouered hys force and might againe, which not long since by his valiaunt ene­my was greatly abated. And besides all this, with hope to reintegrate, and to renue his power in the conquered East, floting vpon the surging Seas, and arriued in the kingdoms of Egypt, offering himselfe voluntarily to the defence and trusty tuition of yong King Ptolomie, béeing there cruelly doone to death, she sawe his embrued and headlesse troncke tossed and beaten vpp and downe the raging waues. Which things if euery one by it selfe, or altogether be duely considered, we must néedes say, that without al compare they afflicted most gréeuously her dying soule.

But the sounde and comfortable counsell of the sage V­tique Cato, and the lost hope in these instabillities of For­tune to regaine her Pompey againe, in a little time mitti­gated, nay rather adnihilated her former sorrowes, wheras I, styll nourished with vaine hope, not able by any counsell or comfort to driue away the same, but by the simple aduise of my olde Nurce, (equally knowing of my sorrowes from the beginning, in whose hart I knewe good will more ryfe, then wysedome rype in her heade, because beleeuing often­times to remedy my gréefe, shee hath redoubled them) doo euermore remain & liue cōsuming my selfe in bitter plaints and confoūded in a thousand doubts and anxieties of minde. There are also many,Cleopatra who (I think) doo beléeue y^t Cleopatra Quéene of Egypt did suffer intollerable gréefe, and that her paines did greatly excéede mine. Because firste, séeing her selfe conioyned with her brother in the Kingdome, and ly­uing in all manner of pleasure and delights, and afterwards cast by him into prysonne, was thought beyonde all mea­sure to be charged with insupportable dolour.

But the present hope of that, which after happened, made her to passe it ouer more lightly. For shée béeing deliuered out of pryson, became Caesar his louing and belooued Ladie. But afterwards forsaken of him, there are who think, that for gréefe of these crossing cares, her tender hartstringes did well nie break a sunder, not regarding that there was a cer­taine touch of vnconstancie, & breach of loue, as wel in her, as in him, which at both their pleasures they did forsake, and take from one another, and bestowe it els where, as often times she plainely shewed, how fitly she could doo the same. But the Gods forbid, that such consolation befal to my com­fortlesse and afflicted soule. For he was neuer yet, or euer shall be, besides him, to whom by many desertes I haue a­uowed the whole terme and trauaile of my life, that coulde affyrme, or yet can say, that I was euer his, but in hart affi­anced onely to Panphilus, and whose I wyll for euer re­maine.

Nor let him hope, whosoeuer he be, that any other loue shall neuer be of such force as to driue his out of my faithful breast. Besides this, if she had béene at Caesar his departure left altogether comfortlesse by him, there woulde be some a­gaine, who ignoraunt of the trueth, would beléeue that this was very gréeuous vnto her: but yet it was not so. Because if she were on the one side agréeued at his departure, the ioy on the other, and the comfort that she receiued of her lyttle Sonne Caesarionem which she had by him, and of her King­dome restored to her againe, counteruayling her gréefe, nay, excéeding all her former sorrowes whatsoeuer, did yéelde her treble consolation. This ioy hath force and strength enough to ouercome greater anguishe, and more extreame cares of mind, then those of them, who loue but a little, and that but coldly to (as euen now I saide) that she did. But that, which for the accomplishment of her greatest gréefe, was annexed to the rest, was, that she was the wyfe of Marke Antonie, whom shee had with her libydinous entisements styrred vp to ciuill, nay vnciuill warres against her owne brother, as­pyring thereby and hoping (by the victory of them) to haue béene [Page 117] crowned Empresse of y^e Romane monarchy. But dubble lose arising to her by this in one hower, which was y^e deth of her slaine husband & of her frustrat hope, of al other womē made (her as it is cōmonly thought) the most vnfortūat & most sorrowful Lady, & beyond al conceit to be confounded with the greatest cares and gréefes, that might be. And considering truely so high a mynde, and so prowde a conceite, which to be first in imagination and afterwardes in indéede sole and soueraigne Ladie and Quéene of the whole circuite of the earth, by one infortunate battaile to be dashed, and cast downe (our sex also being naturally giuen to aspyre and do­mination) besids the foyle of the conquered, & the triumph of the victor, and besides this the losse also of so déere and braue a husband, it cannot be otherwise apprehended, but that it was a wonderful corsiue to her noble heart and an extreme torment of her dismayed soule.

But sodanely she found out a wholesome medicine, which did spéedely helpe and heale this mortall mallady, and that was a straung kinde of death. Which (although for the tyme it was very cruell and sharpe) was not for all that, in execu­tion any long time a dooing: Because in one little hower, two venomous vipers may at the pappes of a yoūg and ten­der woman sucke out both blood and life, as they did out of miserable Cleopatras brest.

O how many times would I haue doon the like, although for a lesser occasion according to the opinion of many, if I had béene peremtorilie forsaken, or if for feare also of ensu­ing infamie thereof, I hadde not withdrawen my selfe.

With this and the aforesayd Ladies the execellencie of Cyrus killed of Tomaris and drowned in a boll of his owne blood, the fier and water of Craesus, Cyrus, Craesus. Persians, Pyrrhus, Darius, Iugurtha, Dionisius, Agamem­non, the ritch Kindomes of the Persians, the magnificency of Pyrrhus y^e power of Darius, the crueltie of Iugurtha, the tirannie of Dionisius, the highnesse of Agamemnon, and the sodaine chaunges of many other more occured to my thoughtes. All which were stinged with these gréefes, and spurned at the féete of scornefull fortune, as the foresayd women, or else altogeather comfortlesse, left of [Page] to worse mishappes. Who also with sodaine argumentes of their better fare were aided, nor remaining any longe time in them, did not féele the greatnesse and gréefe of them so entirely as I doo.Company as it is aboue said doth lessen the greefe, Theistes, Tereus, Whilest I went recounting the aunci­ent sorrowes in this sorte, as you haue heard, and séeking in my minde to finde out some teares, and sorrowes in most respectes like vnto mine owne, because hauing company I might not so greatly lament, and might suffer my gréefe with more patience. Those of Theistes and of Tereus, bothe which were the miserable Sepultures of their owne Sons, were obiected to my memorie. And I maruel what vnnatu­rall and forced patience (fearing their inward bitinges) and what pittilesse restrainte did moderate those sauage Sires from launching theyr sides, and with slicing kniues to make way for their Sonnes strugling in theyr paternall bowels, and striuing to come foorth, abominating that wretched place into which they were so rauenously gulfed. But these also burst out, & (with that they could) choaked at once theyr hatred and gréefe togeather, and so tooke in a manner a cer­taine comforte in theyr harmes, perceiuing that without faulte they were accounted miserable men but of theyr peo­ple, that which happened not to mée.

For I haue compassion borne me of that, which did neuer gréeue mee, and dare not discouer that whych dooth most of all afflicte me, which thing if I durst doo, I doubt not, but as others in my miserable case haue found out some reme­die for theyr paynes,Lycurgus, so might I (perhappes) finde out some ease and helpe as well as they. The pittifull teares of Licur­gus, and of his house, (iustly powred foorth for dead Arche­morous killed of the Serpent,) come also sometimes to my minde, and accompanied with the continuall sighes of sor­rowful Atalanta mother of Parthenopaeus killed in the The­bane Campes,Atalanta. which came so properly and so néerely to mée with theyr effectes, that I could scarce conceyue any greater then them in my minde, If had not prooued them my selfe, I say, that they were full of such great sorrowe, that they could not be more.

But euery one of them are with so high glory eternished, that they might bée estéemed in a manner merry accidents, then mornefull stratagems, The sorrowfull teares (of Li­curgus I meane) with the mortall exequies, honoured of the seauen kinges, and infinite sportes and spectacles made by them in solemnization of that glorious funerall, and those of Atalanta made notable and beutified also with the laudable life, and victorious death of her young Sonne.

But I haue not any thing, nor any such cause, to make my teares scarce well employed, much lesse excellent, and my selfe content, because if it were so wheras I now estéeme my selfe more dolefull and vnfortunate then any other, per­happes I should be perswaded to auerre the contrary.Vilisses. The long trauelles of Vlisses, his mortall and imminent per­rilles, his wandering and weary perigrinations, and all his déedes whatsoeuer are next of all shewed vnto mée, who ne­uer tasted them, but seasoned with most bitter and extreame anguishe of minde, and redoubled many times in my ima­ginations, they make me thinke mine to be farre greater and much more gréeuous, and harken why. Because first and principally, he was a manner, and therefore of nature more strong, and better able to endure them, then I, being a tender and young woman, and he béeing moreouer continu­allie armed with a stoute, couragious, and feirce mynde, and beaten to dailie daungers as one rypened amongest them, when hee trauailed, and turmoyled, dyd séeme to haue but his ordinary, repose, nay his greatest ease and pleasure in them.

But I béeing continually in my Chamber, and tender­lie serued with daintie and delicate thinges, passing my times awaie in pleasures, and dailie accustomod to dallian­ces of wanton looue, euery little payne, and feare thereof is most gréeuous vnto me.

He driuen, and pricked on by Neptune, and trans­ported into diuers partes y^e of world, and of Aeolus likewise receyued his troubles.

But with careful looue I am infected, and with such a lord [Page] infested, that troubled and conquered them, that molested and tossed Vlisses. And if daungerous casualties, and daylie feares dyd séeme to threaten him, of his proper accorde hée wandered continually in séeking of them out. And who can with iust cause complaine or be agréeued for finding of that, which he dooth so earnestly séeke for.None can be sorrow­full for fin­ding that they seeke. But I (séely wretche) would faine liue in quiet if I could, and would willingly fly from woes, and gréefes, if that so rigorously they dyd not rushe vpon me, and if I were not my selfe so forcibly driuen vpon them.

Besides this, he was not afrayd of death, and therefore without feare did commit him selfe to her force and might. But I liue in continuall dreade of it, though compelled by extreame sorrowe I haue sometime (not without feare of greater gréefe) runne willingly vnto it. He also by his long trauelles and ieopardies of Fortune dyd hope to get eternal glorie, and neuer dying fame: But I am afrayd of my escandilized name, and infamous memory hereafter, if it shoulde come to passe that these secrete looues should at any tyme come to lyght.

So that now his paynes are not greater and more then myne, but are rather in number and quallitie farre lesse then mine, and by so much the more, as they are fabulated to be greater then euer they were indéede. But mine (alas) are to true, so many, and more greater, then I am able my selfe to recounte. But after all these, I sée (me thinkes) the sorrowes, sobbes and heauie sighes, the infinite woes, and pittious plaints, that Hipsiphile, Medea, and Oenone had, and the pittifull teares of Ariadne which were more copious then all the rest: all which I iudge most like vnto mine. Be­cause euery one of these (lyke my selfe) deceiued of their loo­uers, watred the ground with teares, cléeued the heauens with cōtinuall sighes, & sustained without any frute, or hope of future content, most bitter tormentes of mynde. And ad­mit (as it is graunted) that these dolours were cast vpon thē by their vngrateful loouers, and by theyr iniurious and vnde­serued ingratitude, yet with iust reuenge of their wronges [Page 119] doone vnto them, they sawe the ende of theyr teares: which comfortes (although I wishe it not) my sorrowes also haue not. Hipsiphile, Hipsiphile, admitte that she had greatly honoured Ia­son, and had by due desertes obliged him vnto her, percei­uing him to be taken away of Medea, had with as great reason as my selfe iust occasion, of complaint and sorrowe.

But such was the prouidence of the Goddes, that, with righteous eyes beholding euery thing (but onely my har­mes) they restored to her a great portion of her desired ioye, because she sawe Medea, who had taked away Iason from her, (Iason forsaking Medea for the looue of Creusa) quit dis­possessed of her once enioyed praye. Certes I doo not say, that my gréefe should finishe, if I should sée the same befall to her who hath deceiued me of my Panphilus, vnlesse I were that she, that should alure him from her againe, but will franck­lie confesse, that a great parte of my sorrow would for a time cease.

Medea dyd also reioyce for reuenge,Medea, that she had (although she was no lesse cruell towardes her selfe, then malicious against her vngratefull loouer) in killing their common chil­dren in his owne presence, and consuming the royall palla­ces of king Creon and the new Lady with merciles flames. Oenone also sorrowing along time, in fine knewe,Oenon, that her disloyall loouer suffered due punishment for breaking, and corrupting the sacred lawes of looue, and sawe his countrie for the wicked rape and exchaung of her selfe for his newe adultersse, miserably wasted, and his owne Cittie sometimes the seate of demie Goddes, and semy Goddesses, but now an vncouth habitacle and a poore village of Shep­pard swaines, ouerthrowen & razed cleane from the ground. But truely I loue my gréefs a great deale more, thē I wold eyther with tongue or hart wishe so sharpe a reuenge of my wrongfull Panphilus. Ariadne also being Bacchus his wife,Ariadne. saw from heauen furious Phedra, (who was the cause, that Theseus (abandoning her, and leauing her desolate in the Iland (being newly enamoured of Phedra) miserably bewit­ched with the incestuous looue of Hippolitus her husbande [Page] his sonne: So that euery thing duely scanned, I finde my selfe amongest the number of miserable and desastrous wo­men to be tormented with more woes, gréefes and with greater sorrowe, then any of the rest, and to haue the sole principallitie and onely name of all other distressed women whatsoeuer.

And I can doo no more. But if perhappes (good Ladies) you accompt my framed arguments, but friuolus assertions and repute all these former examples but weake proofes, as forged in the simple conceite of an appassionated woman, & if you imagine them (because procéeding from a blinde mind) to be but blind also, and of no conclusion, estéeming the teres sighes, and sorrowes of others, more extreame then mine, and thinking them to be more vnfortunate then my selfe, let this onely and last proposition therefore, supplie the de­fecte (if any there be) of all the rest before. If he that beareth enuie, is more miserable, and more wretched, then he to whō he dooth beare it, then of all the forenamed personnes, I am the most miserable and vnhappie woman. Because I doo greatly emulate, and not a little enuie theyr ordinarie acci­dentes, accounting them not so gréeuous, nor so full of such great miserie as mine are.

Behold therefore (gentle Ladies) how by the olde deceites of iniurious fortune, I breath a most wretched woman. And besides this, she hath doone by me, no otherwise then a can­dle burned to the snuffe, doo cast vp flashes of greater light, since that (in apparance onely) making truce with my gréefs and giuing some pawse to my dailie woes, and a little case to my tormented minde, but by her cruell despit againe returning afterwardes to my former teares, and to my sor­rowfull taske, of all the wretched women that liue, shee hath made mee the most miserable, and the onely recep­tacle of all dyspayre and dole. And because all other comparisons layd aside, with onely one I may endeuour to make you more assured of my newe euilles, I affirme (gentle Ladies) and tell you with that grauitie, that other miserable women my compeeres may affirme greater, that [Page 120] my paines are at this present so much the more greater, then they were before theyr vaine and frustrat ioy, by how much the second feuers assailing the sicke patientes with equall colde and heate are wont to annoy them (recouered once and now fallen downe againe) more then the first.The second feuers hurt more then the first. And because I may rather heape pittie in your mindes with the imagi­nation of the rest of my paines, then fill your deintie eares full of new wordes tendring your wearied spirits, with pit­tie that I haue of your patience, minding nowe not to bée more tedious vnto you, and not to drawe foorth your teares any furder in length, if there be any of you at the least, that in reading of it, haue (perhappes) shed, or yet doo powre foorth any: And not to spend the time any longer in wordes, which calleth mee backe to teares, I am determined to holde my peace, making it manifest vnto you, that there is no more comparison of my shadowed discourse, to those substantiall dollours, which I féele indéede, then there is of painted fier, to that which dooth burne indéede: The which I pray all the Goddes, that eyther by your meritorious prayers, or else by my earnest and effectuall orisons, they would with some licour of comforte extinguish, or with spéedy death quite abolish: Or else with the ioyfull retourne of my Panphilus as­swage and moderate the same.