The prime of bewtie may I presume to tel you my lot?

yes Corydon, so that your folly ther­in seeme to bee no greater then your fortune is, that being by generation a Shepherd, you clyme not by vsurpation from I­taly, to be God Pan in Arcadie.

I am not Pan, for I haue not armes to shew: or if I haue, they are not faire and glittering like the sunne beames visible like the same which women giue.The proper­ties of God Pan the son of Demo­gorgus an inchaunter. Yet am I Pan for faire Amaryllis sake, or I beare in my breast the loue lie star Nebris, the very Image of your singelaritiy. And of my flocke, I learne to be lasciuious. I pre­sume to make you merie, because it is of me deitie alwaies to laugh.

Well Corydon, tel mee your lot, & I will be preiudicial vnto you, that you shal haue the shortest cut for your labour.Crotona an auncient towne in I­taly on that side where Sicilia cal­led Trina­cria borde­reth.

There is a cu­stome amongest vs Swaynes in Crotona to elect bie our Diuinatione Lordes & Ladies, with the leafe of the flower Telephilon, which being laide before the fier leapeth vnto them whom it loueth & skippeth frō them whom it hateth. Tityrus and I in experiēce [Page] of our lot whose happe it should be to inioye your loue, insteede of Telephilon we burned Mistletoe and Boxe for our Diuination, & vnto me Amaryllis you fled, & chose rather to turne to an vnworthy Shep­herd, then to burne like an vnworthy louer.

So­rie I am Corydon that the loue of fooles is apt to take hold, where there is no handle, and many times so quicke of conceipt is loue, that in steede of her own mate, she conceiues with childe in the darke with a Niger, though she neuer sawe the man. But be­cause such euents are incident to the citizens of Crotona, when they are farre from it: I therefore do banish from my discretion all fonde loue, when I am neerest vnto it.

ô honorable Amaryllis it is not my inductiō to perswade you to vouchsafe to fauor base mortalitie as your equall, but to protect simple mankind as your seruant. For I knowe beeing a bla­sing starre as you are, and walking no where but in the milkie way, you doe destinate as comets doe, the verie death of a prince for loue of you, rather then anie body shal inioy it.

No; you do exceed in your accounts, for I can loue much because it is laudable, but not loue many, because it is not allow­able. Not as of a good thing, the possessiō is his that hath it, but the communication of it doth belong to all men; but as of a bad thing, such as loue, which is a lewd toye, the possession beeinge in a woman which cannot surrender, the communication must be but to one man, lest the inheritor should proue base, where the Landladie hath too many tenants. [Page] And so my discretion, bee farre wide of that you wishe it to be.

Yet in the grauest modestie there may be a smile, and on that is dead with sound may chaunce to scral, & once a yeer the driest Burr Oke will weepe vnto you, if you offer but to write the first letter of your name vpō her statelie brest. Why may not then Amaryllis once a yeer vse the like wo­manish teares, to any that shall prefer their mindes to her statelie consideration?

Not so; for faithful loue is good in it selfe, and not respectiue good: for in it selfe, it doth consider a sympathie, which euer is betwixt two, and no more, according to a ground among the sages: True-loue neuer buildeth her own nest, but succeedeth the Turtle Doue in hers: and they are saide aboue all other birdes to haue teats and pappes, to nourish loues darlings in their nest: wherein shee neuer, bringeth but two vnto light, and they are both copercioners of ech others vitall spirites, and not vnlike twins, vnto which one more admitted maketh lyke a monster, from which one taken away, causeth present death. As they say Pythagoras writ for his firme to al his epistles: two in body, one in minde.

I hold it felicity for me to be borne onlie to heare you speak, but more happie it were for me to die quickly if this be true, for then I see by the perspectiue glasse of your angelical beau­ty, how it is written in my forheade, that my heart dooth bleed for loue: yet if neither of vs stand in e­lection, and because the gawdie day is come, & the fellowship is granted to some noble personage that [Page] can shewe best friendes for it: then giue Corydon leaue to sacrifice for his losse the simplest guift that may be, a handfull of lines, in ease of a world of sor­rows.

You may do wel to writ, that with your wit you may write a way your care: no doubte but ha­uing Mars lefte you, if Neptune fauour you as he did Pelops, you may winne king Aenomaus daughter in warlike race: so comming home, if your hungrie fa­ther Tantalus be aliue he may bake you in a pie, and bidde the gods to the banket for ioy of your depar­ture out of this miserable worlde: but beware leaste Ceres be there at the feast, for shee will eate a whole shoulder of you for meere spite: because she know­eth that you haue beene verie vnfaithfull to wo­men kinde. But if Mercurie loue you so wel as he did Pelops, and lend you an Ivorie shoulder to beare a­way a bobbe, and commaund Clotho to call you to life againe, then come to me and I will say more to your matter of loue, till then I praye you giue mee leaue to chuse whether I will loue you or not.

Some women thinke it is as martiall a victory with their tongues to ouercome & win the wisp, as we shepheards with our pipes to win the garland. But in al the dialogues wher shepherds vse to speak, note that he which speaketh last ouercōmeth most. Would I might say no more but Vici (as none may saie) not Veni, vidi, as all may saie, or Veni, vidi, vici, as Caesar and those which are more worthie of your presence.

And would I cold conquer Caesar with words as he won some nations without deeds then I protest Corydon should feede my sheepe on the [Page] mountaines, and Tityrus my goates on the rocks, but vnto my presence, no such vulgare creepinge wormes should approch; no not to my solitary pre­sence.

Content you faire ladie albeit you are the pride of euerie braunche, it standeth with your humility & honor, to entertaine seruice sometimes vnto your person: least forgetting what you are, you remember what you should not, and so alwaies v­sing to walke in the aire, you forget to walke aright vpon the earth: & for want of the true vse of your selfe, you maie soone fall. For all thinges that are of great substance do decline down-ward, & the light things are lifted vpwarde: so you maie catche that foule fall on the backe.

Tityrus counsell is good, though somewhat swinish.

And so is not your talk because it is more then swanish.

You are not to be angry when you are giltles, for that is not the intire property of a courtier, but rather the cōtrary.

Neither are shepherds to prate but of goates & lambes.

So we do of the lambes of Venus, which cause the sons of carefull parentes to come home once a yeere for their sins, with the prodigall, when they haue eaten acornes for their mistris sake seuen long yeers.

Come Tityrus, let vs sing for Amaryllis sake, & contend for her, sith wee can not haue her giuen vnto mee.

Then if I sing best, king Midas shall iudge for me, because her dignitie ought not to be censured by one no worthie then our selues.

Doe so, and if hee iudge for either of you I will bestowe a greene Veluet hoode on him, to hide his Asses eares: and on you both my iollie Shepheards [Page] two Oten pipes that you may conuoye vnto his eares, such melody as is most fit for his merite. R. M.A.H.A.As. But begin your plaine song.

Can there proceed from Nature more giftes, or of nurture more rewardes then Amaryllis inioy­eth? not to her selfe inioyeth, but doth to her frinds participate, vertues for their learning & examples for their liuing. And surely Tityrus tis in vaine that we sollicit her with vaine loue, for they whose sage wittes are inhabited with such relations, cannot be at leasure to Cupids inuentions,For the Cock is most proue to Cupide. For the Parrat is most prompt to speake. the which secure conceipt hath first ingendred of the braine of a Cocke, as they faine, that wisedome sprang first of the braine of Parrat, which was the first Iuppiter that euer spake: And so Mynerua was as much a kinne to a Parrat as Venus to a Cocke.

True, verie true. But I see shee is elected by Vesta to bee Vestall, and hath either sworne Chastitie, or Cha­stitie sworne her. Yet because in mouing of her, wee cannot remoue her from her true estimation of honour, wee will heare her and see her and saye the best, for of lest medling with her beautie we shal soonest get her bountie: And of most praising of her, wee shall (to her repute) most flatter her. For if she would admit titles and vaine appellation, then shee would of her selfe soone haue high esti­mation, and so be Philautos. As on the contrarie, if [Page] shee would endure fugillation, then had shee of her selfe a base estimation.Plutar. de Edu­catione. Quae se plus iusto amat qualis est vide Aristot li 2 mag moral. cap 13. &. 14. To this end Plutarch notes that [...]. They that are inamorde of them selues, are at leasure to be flattered by others.

I will assay her grauely againe with some me­rie newes, to which in honest recreation shee hath euer enclined: yet therein from precisest vertue shee hath neuer declined. You knowe Amaryllis, in Virgill there was sometimes a famous learned man of our trade of shepherding, who was also a famous learned mā in his own trade of theeuing, who after manie theeuish exploits, at the last stole away great Hercules faire herd: which he brought from Geryon the tyrant of Spaine, brother to the Philip which v­surpeth those dominions. This Cacus mistrusting least the tracke of the beastes would be pursued by worthie Hercules, drewe them all backeward by the tailes into his caue. Hercules freshsuing his herd, & seeing no print of a foote toward the denne, but all frōward, was perswaded as the craftiest Fox in all Aesope wold haue bin, if in reuiewing the Lyons den he had but seen the like steps: and haue thought no­thing lesse then any harme in Cacus. Hercules & Simia Craft against Force doth litle auaile. Camelus & For­mica. Presently after driuing the rest of his herd by the wales of the caue, they chanced to low: (& as all creatures know their own call) so these stolen cattel did bellow vnto their fellowes, which the noble personage hearing, brake the dore of the caue, & the necke of the theefe, and so had his faire flocke againe.

Too faire a death for so foule a fact.

We heare in Italie that there is now as cruell a Philip in Spain as there was a Geryon then, and as re­nowmed a Hercules in Fraunce nowe, as euer there was king of Aegypt. This Spanish tyrant hath many Cacus of his league & nation, which seeke to steale away that faire herd all of milke whit cattel, which Hercules and his friend preserue for breede. The Cacuses do practise by pollicie to drawe them defor­medly into their vgglie caues, but the Herculeians indeuour to preserue such beautifull breed for sa­crifice, and to serue holie vses. The Cacuses haue often committed this pillage vpon all the neigh­bour kings herdes that inhabite thereabout. I re­quire therefore of thee my Tityrus, who hast often heard of this action, whie the Herculeians do not presently inuade some of their vsurpations & gaine the patronage to themselues: for of all trials speede is the scope & felicitie, and that which is the appe­tite of all hope.

This I thinke the first la­bour that Hercules must achieue, is to see the death of the monstrous Lyon in the wood Nemea, which can neither be slaine by metall nor stone: then may they more easily aspire to that which is the effect of the first labour. And the first wil be the cause of the second.Ierome of the twelue labors of Hercules, writeth to this effect on the 10 chap. of Gene­sis. So that Hydra in lerna malorum may be ea­sily victord: Si Leoni vulpem adiungas. Hydra is the second labour of the Herculeians which daily they do victor: albeit an hundred heads succeed vppon the necke of that monster so soon as he is behead­ded: yet at last when nature shall extinguish that [Page] monster, sich Arte cannot sink him, (when that is done, if it be yet vndone:) Then I assure my self, that Hercules in France shal haue such successe, as that he neede not neither for publique honour nor for priuat weale, vndertake any more of the twelue labours, the one being a worke of pollicie, the other of prowesse.

Then Amaryllis honor you since­ritie of Religiō with your chastitie of life, that when you haue all things belonging to present estate, you want not that litle Atomus the soule (which other women they say want) which of your future and celestiall estate must be the forerunner.

For your counsell Shepheard I render you gracious lookes, the rather for that your theame tendes not vnto gracelesse loue. My religion I account the right of my countrie, and the inheritage vsually of them which haue none other lands. Euery one may be an heire (as in Gauelkind) to sincere religion, in which the yongest hath a title as well as the eldest. And therefore we learne that worthie men haue carried the burden of their countrie Gods, in the middest of any spoiles vpon their backes a­way: amongest whome Aeneas the founder of our natiue soyle is canonized,Ea est falsae Re­ligionis nota cū sit [...]. Plato. not so much for conuey­ing his parents in safetie from the sacking of Troy, as for that he preserued his countrie gods, knowing it to be a false Religion, to haue sought newe gods elsewhere for money or rewardes.

Then do I marueile Amaryllis at one thing greatly: I haue often heard you alledge as an aucthoritie of a wise [Page] Senatour in our land, who vsed to pronounce, that of the two Religions, there is but one end and that the one is but a little the farther way about, both may come to one home.

I haue by heare-say so been informed, but esteeme no trueth but one, neither loue I that Ianus should mock me in my iourney; and when I were faire for it, should stand in some place of doubtfull way, with two faces vnder one hood, & point both waies: so that I may mistake him, and go the lon­gest way about: I may so be wearie of my life, if the way be a purging & faintie hoat way, before I come to my iourneys ende. I haue heard of two Ladies which often are placed in the way where all Hercu­leians walke: the one ladie Voluptuous, the other ladie Vertue: and that the plesurable ladie hath the more efficient perswasions to induce trauellers to their destruction, then ladie Vertue hath to reduce them to their saluation: That her way is faire and broad, and promiseth more assurance of rest then ladie Vertue doth: whose pathes are vnpleasant, whose waies tedious, but in the end, there is a Paradise of most daintie deuises, which Corydon you knowe is most fit for Ladies, and most fauoured of mee.

Good reason Amaryllis, that you should fauour the soules health aboue the bodies, and things to come rather then pleasant cōceipts which are pre­sent deceites. The Dialogue I haue conuerted for your vse out of his proper language in the most fa­mous memorables of Xenophon.

I ioy Amaryllis to see a fable so to agree with truth. They say, into the Elyzean fieldes there be two wayes prepared, one faire, broad, pleasant, carelesse: the other foule, narrowe, tedious, hide­ous, and carefull. He that taketh his pleasure on the waie, there is no reason he should haue it at his iourneies ende. He that laboureth & is in his tra­uaile, will be merrie at night. This pleasant way hath assayed many wise men, but allured none: For it assaulted Vlysses by incantation of Circe and Calypso, by vocation of Syrens musicke, by bitter sweete delightes: such as the voluptuous ladie preferred to our Hercules. If Vlysses had not discour­sed like a wise trauailer with Circe, and perswa­ded in the deepest propertie of an Oratour with Calypso, and preuented in pollicie, by stopping his eares from the womanish harmonie of Syrens, in the one he had beene metamorphosed with his whole Regiment into Bores and hogges and brute beastes (for such are all men sensles in their de­lightes,) in the other he had beene tourned head­long into the sea for a pray to a sight of hungrie fidlers, who neuer pyped better then when they lacked meat for their dinner. And then they plaied to picke such noble mens purses as Vlysses, and bring their liues into a Sea of vtter destruction and want.

Corydon, I desire to know whie Tityrus being so faithful a friend vnto you, and so continually in your cōpanie learneth not your vaine of speaking, [Page] and speaketh not more often.

Tityrus my beloued Tityrus, speaketh seldome and therfore more wisely. Herein I thanke you, that you reprehend my multiloqus and fribolus wordes: in deede hee that speaketh much, offendeth much, and silence sometimes is safe speaking, for the tongue a little creature is too often a tall fellow of his handes, but the heart often maketh the heeles to bee nimble and the tongue speakinge so much idlelie, leaueth nothing for the heart to saie or allowe: which ma­keth and turneth golden mines into leaden pigges, and often maketh a mountaine to bringe foorth a mouse.

Say no more of promises Corydon, for though you insinuate thereby into the feeblenes of wo­mens wittes, which are often drawne with plea­saunt delightes of mens subtiltie, and importunate flatterie to promise more then honestlie they may performe: Yet holding second counselles, with the friendes that belonge to their owne honour, [...]. Cicero Philip. 12. posteriores cogitationes sa­pientiores. they answere you foolish swaines (who are of opini­on, that euerie woman loues you that makes you beleeue so) howe that all promises are not to be kept. Nec omnia, nec nulla, nec non aliqua.

Naie then Amaryllis, you disparage the workes of fidelitie, which are inherent more in ge­nerous mindes, then in degenerous persons: whose feare of some misfortune arguing their cowardize, doe not because they dare not, performe all they promise.

Naie doe not, because they cannot per­forme anie such hastie promises.

What call you promises in hast that be not promises in wast.

Promises in hast are, when suters whose green attire professe them to be Robin Hoods men: yet shoote in Cupids bowe at Dianas seruants. To them a tale of Robin Hood, and a promise sent home, by Long the carrier belongeth.

And when promise you in wast?

In wast when the faith of promise oppo­sed to the falshood of men, makes them fullie per­swaded of loue at our handes, when they seeke no­thing but luste, and so beeing intangled with faire promises will thinke no more of foule actes. And so we induce them to wast in fonde loue: because they would induce vs to tast of filthie lust.

For their vile regard of your honour, they haue a vile reward of your honestie.

Naie of our honestie, for they haue but small honestie, that vse men so dishonestlie.

Women are verie vngracious, because men are verie vngratefull.

Men are verie vngratefull, because women are verie vnfaithfull.

Women are verie politique, because men are verie deceitfull.

Men are verie deceitefull in deede, because the women are verie beautifull indeede.

Women are verie faire indeede, and ther­fore [Page] men are verie false in worde.

And women being verie faire in face, and not true in heart, are as their physiognomy pre­sageth of them.

Are you skilled in the physiognomie? as how I pray you?

If high in forehead, then women are high in minde, couragious like a Lyonesse, and verie liberall of one thing or other. And it importeth desire of Empire and rule, and the gouernement to rest in their feeble discretion.

But how if they be contrarie, and in the forehead low?

Then it signifieth ac­cordingly lowe and base mindes, and sorrowfull heartes, passionate and discontented, because the blemish being in the fairest place and most visible causeth them to seek the darkest places, eschewing companie to liue solitarie and inuisible.

And what purporteth a frowning for­head with clowdie lookes?

It importeth boldnesse, and in a woman foolehardines, and sa­uage Lyonlike (or if you will haue it) in desire like a Bull, as in forehead like a Bull frowning: and al­so readie to wish her husband those ornamentes which should manifest to the worlde her secrete disposition, not without some reason, for they are more fit for a man then for a woman.

Well, passe on with your pastoral discourse & skill to de­termine of things beyond your Tarbox, and tell of the physiognomie of the eies.

Small Fe­rits eies, shewe them to be toyish like Apes, as [Page] bigge setled, dull: vnsharp eies, shewe them to be sluggish, vnwelding like a Cowe with a bonegrace on her head: hollowe eies, witchcraft full of ran­cour and secret malice: great gogling eies, foo­lishnes, for you know tis proper to an Asse. Some­what a little hollowe, signifieth stout courage and magnanimitie like a Lyonesse. But if they be verie open and rowling, beware of impudencie: for it is one of the two viperous brood and daughters of my ladie Carelesse, and Insolencie is the other daughter: For as Tully hath, to neglect what re­pute the world shall carrie about of you, is not on­ly the propertie of an impudent creature, but of a dissolute bodie. But to come to particulars, Ama­ryllis, eies more fit for Aristotles description are blacke, which signifieth no mutation but constan­cie. In that they haue the litle Hasle circlet which doth inuiron and hedge in a golden fleece in the middest of your right eie, which shepherdes think to steale, if it spie them first, it depriueth them of all liuing sence, leauing them onely vegetatiue sence like vnto trees, because of their presumption, which are but markes to tell of the boldnesse of them that went before, vnto them that shall fol­lowe after. And in a worde, the whole physiog­nomie of the eies shall be in this sentence con­cluded: Quanto maior tanto minor malitia: sed stul­titia maior.

I like your Rosemarie you giue mee Tityrus, but not your Fenell. Let vs heare [Page] of the lippes.

They cannot be deuided except they were first closed; nor can not be described, except they be disclosed: and cannot be disclosed openlie, ex­cept they be touched secretlie. Therefore faire A­maryllis, sith euer you haue repelled mee from the one, blame me not though I faile in the other, for honour me first in this, and honour wil nourishe a [...]tes. Tantalus hath not anie nice taste, if he haue a­ny at all: nor Sisiphus any knowledge of the Christ­mas holidaies, if he knowe of anie: nor anie ende of his labour, if he haue anie ende of his water and worke. Wherefore that I maie report of Paradise, let me tast of Euphrates: [...]. In vanis osculis suauis [...]ucundi­tas, Theocritus. for there is in one of the senses of tasting, all the liberall sciences of learning. And in vaine kissing true pleasure.

You are besides your manners, and there­fore I maruell not to see you besides your matters. But in conceite vse your pleasure, so you maie by imputation be admitted to be blessed.

I shall thereby be as happie as the Hacke­nie man is, who often is as poore as Irus, because often his Horses are of the colour of Iris, which in deede is no colour, as they are often to him, be­cause they are not with him. As to mee you vse the worde conceite, so to him they vse the deede de­ceite. And they saie to him as you saie to me, be­leeue well and haue well. Sic ego rescribo de tuo pal­frido, crede quod habes & habes.

Well nowe you maie returne from your [Page] pleasure, and describe the want of your pleasure.

In a worde, the lippes are praised as please euery man to like of them. And there is no grea­ter heed to be taken, then that they open not their wardes for feare lest they let out many out of their dungeon.

Many what?

Many charge­able prisoners, which will cause a heauie action to lie against the person, I meane corrupt words, for which all men may condemne one, or corrupt breath, from which all men will commend one.

You are disposed to enioyne my absence.

No, Amaryllis rather to enioy your presence. I will proceede if Tityrus will not.

do so, & I will clime with admiration vp into the faire bran­ches of this tall Castanea tree, from which by that time Corydon hath told my tale by Arithmetike, I can deduct three little sprigs, and then Amaryllis, & this goodly tree wilbe of one name and nature.

Lips which be soft and smooth and neigh­bourlike kisse eche other, signifie vnitie and redi­nes to wage battell against the rauening Lyons that would rudely pray vpon their cheries. Such are yours Amaryllis. Those that are verie hard and rugged and blewe like a Saphire, declare that swine liue vpon the Acornes which they find vnder eue­ry tree, where for a messe of commons in Epicurus kitchin, they open their quiuer to euerie mans ar­rowe. A verie thick vpper lippe hanging ouer too much, is neuer troubled with too much wit. And a thicke vpper lip turning vpward that the gumme [Page] may be perceiued, is construed by the similitude of snarling to be a dogg, at least a reprochefull crea­ture.

And what of the nose?

The tippe of the nose being fleshie, signifieth no worse matter then fleshly lust: But turning vp withall, signifieth by comparison a Swyne, & in veritie it noteth slug­gishnes. The tippe being sharp foresheweth, as the prouerbe of (Mucterisme) Nasuti homines telleth, an angrie Scoffer: [...], to be a secrete scoffer. Of that kinde of nose, read Plinie. li. 11. cap 32. And as the nose of a Woolfe, it sheweth secret crueltie. For the nostrels if they are wide, they signifie Lyonlike & full of force. Nar­row nostrels are full of motions as children, and by comparison of birdes apt to sing sweetely, because vnapter to let the sound through the nose. A nose flat to the face, & crooked importeth often a croo­ked bodie, & by the comparison of a carren Crow shamelesse, and a light huswife. But in this descrip­tion of a flat nose, a certaine writer hath many rea­sons that still Nurture amendeth Nature. On the contrarie, if crooked Eglelike, then high minded but lowe couraged. Simonased is libidinous. Also broad nosed, is furious. But louelie long nosed rea­ching downward toward the mouth, presageth all the vertues in Tullies Offices, & especially fortitude.

[...]uni [...] quàm si­milis turpissima beltia nobis.And what of the eares.

litle, like an Ape. Great, like an Asse. Flapping, like a foole. But mo­derate eares are naturall to all people, and shewe some moderation in the rest of the senses, if the sences be framed accordingly. Verie round eares are verie vnfit to learne. And verie long eares, are [Page] verie enuious. And verie much cleauing to ones head, are of some vnknowen ill disposition. If heares be in the eares, then apter to heare quickly: From whence our terme hearing may be taken.

Nowe tell mee in generall, what shape of the face and countenance is best desti­nate by dame Nature vnto women.

If fleshie, then somewhat sluggish: If leane, then cu­rious, If bigg and foggie, fearefull like an Asse, or as the Hart is. If round and somewhat fat with a little blacke spot or two on it, then faire Amaryllis, The roundnes sheweth aptnes of proportion, as a temple of better giftes which are within. And the reason why the spottes are, is that a little contrarie opposed to a marueilous singularitie, doth make that which is verie excellent to be better: because the imperfection standing neere beauties grace is made a lesse imperfection, and beautie a more beautie. As blacke annexed to white, maketh white more white, and blacke more perfecte blacke.

Now for the countenance, if it looke downe­ward & groueling, tis a signe of an Hypocrit, & of discontented wickednes. And a drunken counte­nance, a drunkard: an angrie countenance, a bed-lame: and on the contrarie, a shamefast counte­nance, a gracious woman. Any one that is defor­med is ill manerd likely, if Nurture be not the pre­dominant ouer Nature: as Thersytes of whom the Poets say venerat ad Troiam quo non deformior alter. [Page] And of all that be correspondent in manners, in a prouerbe they call it Thersitica facies: Thersites was caled [...] one that defomed his face with hastie de­ [...]ring like a Rauen as the worde doth si­gnifie in Arist. lib 9. Anim. ca. 24. A verie large visage is vnshamefast. Those that sweat in the face with small motions, may haue small honestie. But often times they are craftie, and still they are great eaters. Verie little round faces signifie simplicitie. Verie crooked long leane faces are malicious, but onely for profits sake. And Amaryllis, you haue hereby a glasse to decerne your choice, but not so sure as a touchstone to trie gold by. For neither is all gold that glistereth, nor all that ashes that see­meth:Saepe sub. cinere doloso latet ig­nis. Horat. ergo caue. [...]. Lucret ex The­ophrasto. but often gold is hid in earth: and often vn­der deceitpfull ashes lie coles of fire.

Why then I perceiue no assurance of iudgement but vncerteine gesse to be in the physi­ognomie of women, and all your proofes to be like the Physitions iudgement of a womans inferiour partes by her water. It is not of the necessitie of his science to knowe more by the water then is done aboue the gyrdlesteede, nor of your Arte to de­cerne more then you see apparant in the face. And that you describe out of your shepherdes Calen­der: Whereby you can tell, if you see a cloud, that it is a signe of a showre, and many starres bring a frost: and the euening red, a faire morning: and the morning gray, a faire euening. And by the backe­bone of a Woodcocke, you can tell aswell as the Woodcockes selfe, what weather shall insue: But by looking in ones face, you cannot tell what mo­ney shee hath in her purse. Your science makes [Page] you often in hope of a faire weather to clime the mountaines where the Muses stand with goads in their handes to repel you swaines, and you forsake the base and humble valleis which are more fit for you.

This and more of Amaryllis will her true hearted swaine indure, onely impatient of this, that I should haue Tityrus my Riuall.

Onely im­patient of this, that I should haue Corydon my Ri­uall.

Wherefore I pray you: Dicite Riualem vix ego ferre Iouem. Amaryllis. No, I am onely im­pacient in this, that you should striue about no­thing.

Are you nothing Amaryllis?

I am no such thing.

Why not?

Because I am not.

That is a womans simple reason.

It is a good and subtill reason. For in all things that are so, your senses ought to take notice that they are so, and not to call in question why they are so:Libro [...]. Aristo. lib. 1. Analyt. For your Aristotle hath it in his wisedome, that Sensus nulla de re cur ita sit indicat. As if it be fire, no reason to aske why it is hoat: but onely to haue relation to the effect of the thing. As if it be fire, to know that it is hoat: if water, to knowe that it is colde.

And if a woman, to knowe that shee is wil­full.

And if faire, to knowe, that shee may be false.

And if a man, to know that he knowes manie more then women, and therefore he that is euery where, they say he is worthy to be no where.

How know you that men know many things?

Because many things are knowen of them.

Why, that is the same by the same, which is no good reason.

So is their knowledge the same by the same, which is no good order.

How?

As to know the yonger by the elder.

Blame not men therein Amaryllis.

Why by what rule Corydon?

Because newe wine hath often an olde garland.

I but good wine neede no garlande, nor good women any such customers.

You say well, for they are knowen as well without a Poesie in their brestes, as if they had it written within their Rings: Viresco semper vulnere.

But tel me Corydon, by what priuie marke of countenance I may know the complexion and disposition of such creatures?

In the male, note a bonnye-face leane, it signi­fieth a dailaborer, & a man of a cold nature by rea­son of manie losses at sea.

How at sea?

What Sea you will, either the Sea where Flemish hoyes beare English burthens: or English hoyes beare the French loading, whether you will.

And how in a woman?

In a woman, if shee be shame­lesse, who of nature should be shamefaste. And though in a man, the face is almost immutable: yet in such a woman verie soone Vultus mutatur, nā a vo­lando dicitur. Their countenance is comming and going: for it is deriued of a fugitiue word, by reason that euery Arte hath speciall termes to expresse it. If shee looke yll, you may soone perceiue it: for the countenance is a certeine sylent speech and dombe shewe to declare what the minde and the bodie are.

I but is all this any thing certeine that you haue tolde mee?

Not so sure as neuer otherwise. But this knowe Amaryllis, that these thinges are most apparant in men & women, such as are not regenerate and washed from the incli­nation of Nature: As in the Adamites, whose hard heartes want mortifying of gouernement: Naturae sequitur semina quisque suae. Euerie man followeth his instillation of Nature. The vse of Physiogno­mie is verie auncient: For Iacob the father of all shepherdes tolde by Labans physiognomie vnto his wiues, what minde Laban bare towardes him.

Then I see some certeintie to be in the science. But in a worde, giue me the significa­tion of a comely person, and of a deformed crea­ture, what they are noted throughout all partes to be in both sex.

In a worde, a woman faire in all partes without some secrete or hidden blemish, cannot be without faire conditions and honest: for shee is called of the Primotor of all things Man hu: Respond. Danum Dei. as one deformed in the least sort, is not without some fault notorious: So is it of all people an old saide sawe, and prouerbially true: Distortum vul­tum sequitur distantia morum. Of them beware, whome God hath any waie noted in the face or else where. They that are not deformed, are more like their Creator, whose perfection in his creatures shewes him to be without blemish or deformitie.

By this you haue a faire caueat to beware the im­perfection in shape of Tityrus my fellowe swayne, whom you haue often noted for his sauage lookes, and loue you the simplicitie of Corydon whom you haue found, though somewhat mutable, yet al­waies honest in indeuour to perfourme his obedi­ence, though in deede, too short of his dutie. And if time shall heale greifes by killing of care, then Amaryllis, my herdes of Deere, and flockes of sheep mounted vpon mine owne hils, where my little mansion is, euen Tame like sheepe intangled as are their leaders thoughtes, shall waite vpon you to paie their owne ransome with their dearest bloud.

I but Corydon, shall not I waite too long vpon them first? Care is yet but yong, and therefore strong ynough to fight with Time, and Time is ra­ther a deuourer of mens expectations, then a hea­ler of their griefes: for to gape for dead mens shooes is often to goe barefoot. And whiles your parkes may be cloathed with Flora, & your woods armed with strength: and your Swannes that in Leander at the bottom of your mount do surmount in number, we may be laughed at by your pleasant fieldes that shall be for our present follie that is, & may be blowed coldly vpon by your boysterous Okes, yet haue we no aucthoritie to control them with the Axe. And your louely Swannes muing themselues vnder your chamber windowe, may make vs wish our enuious eyes were out, rather then to be hold so much future pleasure, & so little [Page] present ioy. And what were this for vs to be in o­bedience of elder Care as his children continually? You be gotten as it were of his owne marrowe, I adopted to be the daughter of Care for loue of you. You in want of maintenance to liue a shep­herds life: I in want of sustenance to die a lingring death: or if lingring in subiection cannot happilie die, but must in viewing about your bitter sweete delights, behold any of mine owne consort, as the Nightingale which now in my virginitie carrieth no fether to her nest, but asketh leaue first of me, to accompanie her with the noates of my simple voice, that thereby the labour may seeme more ea­sie, yet then I shall see them carrie apace, but must needs thinke as they poore they do: That not for me, but for others this nest is built: for the profites are still our elder Cares. We should see the Bees haue their working thoughts & their thighes loa­ded with Treasure to our fightes: and as they saye, we must say: not for our selues but for others. See the wanton Fawnes skipping to fat themselues with speed, and as they say we say: not for vs but for others. See the plentifull & gratefull sheepe for their bare sustenance render this maintenance: vd­ders strowting with milke including farther profit, most fit nourishment for our infants: fleeces on their backes, whereof the finest cloth is made: ten­der carcases, wheron the finest people feed: marks on their foreheads, which meane not for our gen­tle shepherds, but for our cruell masters the elder [Page] Care. Wee may see the trauailing Oxe worke out with feare and trembling his own destruction. And so all things wee may see but nothing we must haue.

O but Amaryllis! tis somewhat to go halting by Nature, better then not to go at all. And better haue half a loafe then no bread. And that so wee enioy loue for euer: Let vs indure pa­cience for a while. Our pleasures wil be more then common persons are. I am noblie descended though sauagely I liue. All mine is all yours which to enumerate wil be comfort, though yet not com­moditie. Faire houses without large rents: great parks without trouble of tillage, both seated sweet­lie in a rich prouince: which euer as now they are, so were they the Granare & storehouse of prouision and victuals to all our Ilande: From whence the whole people of Crotona haue transported vsually to comfort the borderers in annual reliefe, an hun­dred saile of boates and lighters loaden with grain. But lest the praise of mine owne countrey seduce my penne to lauish, and lest I should be carped at to write our incredible perfection by reason of my vnspeakable affection: I intreat your sweete con­sideration to accept in good parte the confirmati­on of our blessednesse by mine owne relation. For natiue soyle carries away euerie sence with desire of delight to praise it and pray for it.

O most happie dominion, whose hap it was to be more blessed then any other parte of the Con­tinent. Thou art the prime & the chiefest that be­held [Page] the renowmed Constantinus Caesar. In thee he left his Hart for liking, and his Hind for feeding. On the one thy name was written for remem­brance: on the necke of the other, his name was written for assurance. Nature hath repaide thee thy desert beyond thy desire, thou art indued with­all the fruites of the earth, and all the fauour of the ayre, in thee the rewardes of seede are so plentiful, that Ceres hath her barnes indued with graine, and Bacchus his presse fulfilled with grape, in whome are huge woodes to couer, without hydeous beastes to deuour: in whome are fertile groundes to manure for foode, without feareful serpentes to procure death. Againe, of sillie & gentle & profi­table sheepe, so great is the multitude, that for their bare food, as hating ingratitude, they yeeld fleeces fit for Iasons labour, or from their backs for Corydons hyre, vdders for Corydon and Amaryllis children, which only they hold vp, till that day with groning to haue none but Amaryllis infants play with their yong ones: And none but Amaryllis seruaunts to bring down their pride & swelling teates: To make cruds & cum-butter & walwhay only for Amaryllis dairie. Saue that they rather choose to lose their wool on bryers for charities sake to the poore, then that their masters elder Care should sheare them too too neare for couetousnes. And they wil often counterfait sickenes before their time, to be giuē to the releefe of the poore, rather then their maisters elder Care should take them home to infect their [Page] shepherds with the rott of Mutton: for old Care is euer more couetous then yong Carelesse is prodi­gall. Touching that which all men hate the darke­nesse our Climate is daily preuented with that which al men loue the lightnes, for we haue none but humble valleis vnto our champion, & no fence for which the daytide being of great length, the night is neuer without some lightnes: Except at such time of the night as the vttermost plaines of the earth, receiue no light, then when as the goall of night and of the heauens is ouercome, and that the starlight departeth euen in the intercession of the newe day. In so much as the Sunne which to all other people seemeth to go downe and fall, to vs appeareth but still to passe away. Sith then Ama­ryllis, this is creat onely to beare flowers for my gar­land which I meane to bestowe yerely vpon you, as a Coronet for your patience, till I can indow you with the whole, I request you, accept my abi­litie as a possibilitie, though not a possession to in­rich you withall.

Yes Corydon, I take well in worth your singular curtesies, but may not breake Vesta her lawes for loue of Ceres, nor leaue Diana her grace to seeke Lucinas helpe, nor leaue foun­taines of Nectar to tast riuers of water, nor leaue Manna to tast of Ambrosia. But as I haue put on the stoale & Robe of dignitie, so must I learn to shunne indignitie, for I haue many eies obiect vpon mee: eies such as the Pecocke doeth spread to enuie faire weather & prosperitie: eies such as can fasci­nate [Page] the tender lambes of Diana, and for their pleasure haue induced them to aduersitie eies that are poreblinde, and therefore looke nigh vnto o­thers. Eies that are bleared and so cannot see into themselues. Eies like the Owle to see what is done in the night. Eies like the Stare to watch for the daie. Eies like the Hawke, to watch aloft for a fowle. Eies like a Buzard, at hand to sease vpon a­ny thing. Eies of a Doue, but eares withall. Be­ware of little Pytchardes, they haue great eares. And therefore it behooueth me to borrowe of the Eagle her eies, that I may behold the Sunne & not be cōfounded of the glorie. And because it is a cu­stome among Dianas seruants to banquet much in honour of our mistris, I do vse to represse that out­ragious god with a more sober: [...]. and mingle water with my wine, which in taking away that which is hurtfull, doth leaue onely that which is healthfull. And because there hath bin the Mandrage a starke poyson growing neare vnto Vines in many coun­tries, I vse to giue euery one leaue to drinke thrise for my once. I haue read in a writer of a certaine Pearle, which I meane to send for shortly,Plinius lib. 25. cap. 9. li 14. c. 2. Plutarch lib. de Audi. poetis. [...]. called Amethuston, to hang at mine eare: they say it doth vse to repell desires. Some were vsed to receiue into their bodies Amuletos before such times as they went to banket, and some to carrie it about them, it will surely repell ouersight in drinking, or ouerdelight in eating. These experiences sith I haue learned first of you Corydon, I will rest your [Page] scholler still for your vertues, but no louer of anie ones person.

Why then my song shall be of patience perforce, and I will still be attendant vpon your preferment, though I meane to goe hide my shame in my fathers woods, that once might not haue repented mee too late, but haue releeued my true loue in time, euen with the enioying of Ama­ryllis, whose ioyes nowe increased shall increase my bad Muse to intreate of them day and night. And nowe both you fountaines & drierie woods, lende of the infinite soundes and innumerable bus­shes in you, a verse for euerie budde, and a line for euerie leafe. And you immeasurable mountaines in heighth expressing my high desire in euer-li­uing greenes, manifesting my eternall good will, in hugenes remembring her impossiblenes of me nowe to be embraced: in hauing but one waye to go vp, and that verie narrowe, it foresheweth that onely vertue must be the path that leadeth vnto her: In being stored with Cedar trees, foretelleth mee, that shee inclyneth to high honours: In be­ing stored with sheepe, sayeth shee shall be riche: In hauing a fountaine, sheweth shee hath wise­dome: In hauing humble and lowe vallies, shew­eth that shee hath true humilitie: In bearing the name of Pimplea, assureth the beholders, that none must presume before they be called, lest they be re­pelled by her swaines with their hookes, and by her maynie with their whips. You senceles creatures receiue mee into your herd for as mute a creature, [Page] though not so brute a substance as you, till I being well acquainted with your kinde, yeeld glorie to my mistresse for making mee silent, as you do to your creator for making you a subiect. Yet not si­lent Corydon til I haue said my mind, once more to moue her spirites to sing vnto my Roundilay her mornings tune, which putting vpō with her gown all grauitie, shee may vse to modulat to this dittie.

Now Amaryllis, ending my mirth, beginnes my moane. Now departing from your sight, I shall be blinde, and from your presence I shall perish. Yet vouchsafe beauties wanton darling, so called for that you haue beene pleasant with my Kiddes, and learned to smile quickly of dame Flora your grand­mother, suffer my thoughtes to be sent as suters to your honour to protect their basenes, though my bodie be absent from your sight, by reason of vn­worthines. Nowe I haue fed a wanton eie, I will go feede my starued flocke: and sith greater di­gnitie [Page] is befallen Amaryllis then my infirmitie must thinke, of my accustomed boldnes shall not ap­proch your presence without some present, wor­thie to gratifie so high degree. All this while Tity­rus gathers my straying flockes to his straying thoughtes, & keepes my Kiddes from pride which would insult, sith they haue notice of Amaryllis suc­cesse. But let Tityrus my beloued Riuall, beware lest that Libyan white one, which wanting a play­fellow, and going to Amaryllis fountaine to seeke her, do not fall into a phrensie for absence of his foster mother, and so strike him sodaynly with her horne. O gracious Amaryllis, why do you recall me your quondam louer, roming like the Woodoses in these groues, to view that you must flie them, and go to Dianas courtes? Do you hate me? No. Then you must loue mee. True. For in Dianas nymphes there is but two dispositions, and in a woman ther is no third thing: Mulier aut amat, aut odit, nihil est tertium. Then do so still. Shall I be the same in fa­uour when I come to mans state, as now being a beardlesse youth? Then destroy me presently that I may die before the cogitations of departure be­reaue me of my ioyfull blisse. Behold, I cast be­fore thee twelue Queenapples, though the Gods sent down but one, all pourporting this poesie: To the fairest of twelue. I gathered them from a tree planted with thine owne hand, which makes them looke so like heauenly foode. Beholde my bitter griefe. Why hide you your face Amaryllis? Would [Page] I were made a humming Bee to serue Dianas hyues, that so in her mount garden I might see my Ama­ryllis mounted, wearing her daily garland, knotted with her owne haire, to shewe how shee hates to weare anie other bodies Thyrsus. Nowe do I know O loue, that thou art a plagie god. Certes, some Lyonesse was thy foster mother (or else the Poets faine) when Iaculus & you ranne away from your own mother. Or else you were Astyages sonne, one of the first Monarchie that was, whom when your mother was with childe of you, your father dreamed that shee bare a Vinebranch in her womb that would ouershadowe all Asia: Asking coun­sell of the Soothsayers what brood shee shoulde breed: they tolde true, such an one as would di­sturbe all Nations, and deposede your own father from rule of himselfe. Then he gaue thee, O Cupid to Harpagus to be ouerwhelmed with the obliuious waues of the Sea. But he vnhappie engine of all mens woe, returning into a wood in vnlucky Persia, there left thee at randome, to the wide worlde. Then Spacon, which in the Persian language is a dogge, was thy Nurse, and so art thou cruell by his education.

Such an one is Loue, that whom a mad dogge byteth, he is madde presently vppon it. I burning with inwarde fire, seeking with outward teares to quench the outward apparant flame of loue, my teares serue to smother my heat, the smoke where­of is the sooner seene. So outwarde medicines [Page] shewe there to be inwarde griefes. Faire loo­king like the glorious Diamond, in worth the most precious Pearle, Nymphe embrace a shep­herde with your lookes, then they may kisse mee, though I not them, with the lippes of admiration. In faire lookes, are vayled with modestie sweete kisses.

I will go gather a Coronet, and will weaue & infolde it with the knottes of truest loue, with greene lawrell Apollos scepter, which shall beto­ken her wisedome, and with the Myrtle faire Venus Poesie, which shall shewe her beautie. And with Amaranthus Dianas herbe, whereby bloud is sten­ched, so may shee imitate the herbe, and haue re­morce. Wo is mee, what Aetna shall I possesse. Will not Amaryllis heare? Then off goes my pa­storal robes made of my dearest Goates cloathing, and into this Lethe I runne, where if I be not drow­ned, yet eternall forgetfulnesse shall make mee happie. Yet there the fisher Olpis still watching, may take mee to be the great fishe Thynnus, and so saue my life, and bring mee to shame againe. But I will do it, for then sure I am, that some pleasure in hope that I am dead will possesse Ama­ryllis: so shee retourning with ioy to see, I maye take her in her good mood. All is in vaine, Diana calleth, and honour allureth. Lately, I asked counsell of Agraeo a Prophetesse, howe to knowe whether Amaryllis shoulde euer loue mee, shee taught mee to take Telephilon a kinde of leafe that [Page] Pepper beareth so called of [...], because it fore­sheweth loue, and to clap the leaues in the palme of my hand. If they yeelded a great sound, then surely shee should loue me greatly: if a little sound, then little loue. But either I was deafe being sence­les through loue: or else no sound at all was heard, and so Agraeo the diuinatrix tolde me a true rule. Nowe I preferre my garlande made in sorrowfull hast, of which the flowers, some signifying death, & som mourning, but none belōging to marriage, do manifest, that Amaryllis hath no respect of meane men. Come gentle Amaryllis, I wil go fetch that milkewhite Goat, which hath nowe a twinne which you haue euer liked, & sacrifice her to your liking. Will you not? Then Erithacis rich though not so faire, who is an earnest suter to me shal haue them, because shee is delighted with my presence. But my right eie watreth, tis a signe of somewhat, do I see her yet. O faire Amaryllis, be not angrie, though I talke idlely, and speake like one distract. At the foote of this Pine tree, I will ende my la­mentations, where perhaps shee may looke backe and see mee; for shee is no Adamant. I would I could preuent her swift pace as Hippomanes did vn­to Atalanta, with golden Apples which Venus hath sent mee to cast before her, that shee stooping to golde, might be ouertaken. But gold cannot tempt Chastitie. I would with Bias make shift to obtaine faire Perones, though the Oracles said I should die for it, if I take the labour in taske. But shee seeketh [Page] not the death of a louer. I would with Adonis one of mine owne facultie, for loue of Venus watch so long in the woods, that the wilde bore should slay mee for my duetie. But shee hating to be called Venus, wil rather let me continue dead then reuiue mee for loues sake, as Venus did her Adonis. I would be like Endymion if I could, who for that he eschu­ed all loue, and followed Dianas life, he fell in de­light with perpetuall hunting in the woods. But Amaryllis will not be Luna to induce me into a per­petuall sleepe, to the intent to imbrace mee: but will be Luna to the intent to flie from mee. I would be Iason if shee would be Ceres, and vouchsafe to sleepe with mee, [...] quasi [...]. then might shee be Ceres in deede quasi Geres: but that were admirable, that by one bare sleepe should happen, yet might shee be Ceres for shee beareth glad tydings vnto him that shall haue her. Thus I fainting, and shee not caring, must thinke that what is haplesse should be care­lesse, but that will not be. Then heere will I lye and let my flocke starue, that when the Wolfe hath ea­ten them, he may be so good vnto mee. This shal please Amaryllis rather then continuall importuni­tie, yet departing; honie of the Combe shal be my food: yet will I eate nothing but sweete thoughts: and the ioyce of Pieres shalbe my drinke, yet will I drinke nothing but the spring water that shee last washed in. Where by the puritie, I shal thinke of her sinceritie, and see my sorrowes written in the sandes. Here will I waite & haunt these plaines & [Page] woods, looking for no companion, but the louing birde which delighteth to behold the face of a man, of him I will loue to behold the face of a goddesse. Heere shal I finde none to tune vnto mee but that ladies birde that counterfaiteth to chatter with a small shrill voyce as they do, & faines the voice of a Ladie, to whom I will vse to saie: O the voice of a goddesse! And whiles Tityrus is with our flock in Crotona, I will sit heere till I see Diana come bie, & will bethinke mee vpon a number of Hieroglyphiks, which I will compose in some order shortly, and preferre them to Amaryllis. In the meane while, let this my Roundilay end my follie.