Principibus placuisse viris non vltima laus est.



  • The Epistle dedicatorie to the Queenes Maiestie.
  • The Apologie.
  • An aduertisement to the Reader.
  • The first xxiij Cantos, or bookes of Orlando Furioso, ending with Orlandos falling mad.
  • The other xxiij Cantos of Orlando Furioso, in which he recouered his wits; ending with Bradamants marriage.
  • A generall Allegorie of the whole.
  • The life of Ariosto.
  • The Table of the booke.
  • The Tales


MOST Renowned (& most worthy to be most re­nowned) soueraigne Ladie; I presume to offer to your Highnes this first part of the fruit of the litle garden of my slender skill. It hath bene the longer in growing, and is the lesse worthie the gathering, because my ground is barren & too cold for such daintie Italian fruites, being also perhaps ouershaded with trees of some older growth: but the beams of your blessed countenance, vouchsafing to shine on so poore a soile, shal soone disperse all hurtful mists that wold obscure it, and ea­sily dissolue all (whether they be Mel-dews, or Fel-dews) that would starue this shallow set plant. I desire to be briefe, because I loue to be plaine. VVhatsoeuer I am or can, is your Maiesties. Your graci­ous fauours haue bene extended in my poore familie euen to the third generation, your bountie to vs and our heirs. VVherefore this (though vnperfect and vnworthie worke) I humbly recommend to that gracious protection, vnder which I enioy all in which I can take ioy. If your Highnesse wil reade it, who dare reiect it? if allow it, who can reproue it? if protect it, what MOMVS barking, or ZOILVS bi­ting can any way hurt or annoy it? And thus most humbly crauing pardon for this boldnesse, I cease to write, though I will not cease to wish, that your high felicities may neuer cease.

Your most humble seruant, IOHN HARINGTON.


THe learned Plutarch in his Laconicall Apothegmes, tels of a So­phister that made a long and tedious Oration in praise of Hercules, and expecting at the end thereof for some great thankes and ap­plause of the hearers, a certaine Lacedemonian demanded him, who had dispraised Hercules? Me thinkes the like may be now said to me, taking vpon me the defence of Poesie: for surely if learning in generall were of that account among vs, as it ought to be a [...]ong all men, and is among wise men, then should this my Apologie of Poesie (the very first nurse and auncient grandmother of all learning) be as vaine and supersluous as was that Sophisters, because it might then be answered and truly answe­red, that no man disgraced it. But sith we liue in such a time, in which nothing can escape the enuious tooth and backiting tongue of an impure mouth, and wherein euery blind corner hath a squint-eyed Zoilus, that can looke aright vpon no mans doings, (yea sure there be some that will not sticke to call Hercules himselfe a dastard, because forsooth he fought with a club and not at the rapier and dagger:) therefore I thinke no man of iudge­ment will iudge this my labour needlesse, in seeking to remoue away those slaunders that either the malice of those that loue it not, or the folly of those that vnderstand it not, hath deuised against it: for indeed as the old saying is, Scientia non habet inimicum praeter ignoran­tem: Knowledge hath no soe but the ignorant.The diuision of the Apologie [...] three parts. But now because I make account I haue to deale with three sundrie kinds of reprouers, one of those that condemne all Poetrie, which (how strong head soeuer they haue) I count but a very weake faction; another of those that allow Poetrie, but not this particular Poeme, of which kind sure there cannot be many: a third of those that can beare with the art, and like of the worke, but will find fault with my not well handling of it, which they may not onely probably, but I doubt too truly do, being a thing as commonly done as said, that where the hedge is lowest, there doth euery man go ouer. Therefore against these three I must arme me with the best de­fensiue weapons I can: and if I happen to giue a blow now and then in mine owne defence, and as good fencers vse to ward and strike at once, I must craue pardon of course, seeing our law allowes that is done se defendendo: and the law of nature teacheth vim vi repellere. First therefore of Poetrie it selfe,Of Poetrie. for those few that generally disallow it, might be sufficient to alledge those many that generally approue it, of which I could bring in such an armie, not of souldiers, but of famous Kings and captaines, as not onely the sight, but the very sound of them were able to vanquish and dismay the small forces of our aduersaries. For who would once dare to oppose himselfe against so many Alexanders, Caesars, Scipios, (to omit infinite other Princes, both of former and later ages, and of forraine and nearer countries) that with fauour, with studie, with practise, with example, with honors, with gifts, with preferments, with great and magnificent cost, haue encouraged and aduanced Poets and Poetrie? As witnesse the huge Theaters and Amphitheaters, monuments of stupendi­ous charge, made onely for Tragedies and Comedies, the workes of Poets to be represen­ted on: but all these aides and defences I leaue as supersluous, my cause I count so good, and the euidence so open, that I neither need to vse the countenance of any great state to bolster it, nor the cunning of any suttle lawyer to enforce it: my meaning is plainely [Page] and bonafide, confessing all the abuses that can truly be obiected against some kind of Poets, to shew you what good vse there is of Poetrie. Neither do I suppose it to be greatly be­houefull for this purpose, to trouble you with the curious definitions of a Poet and Poesie, and with the subtill distinctions of their sundrie kinds, nor to dispute how high and super­naturall the name of a Maker is, so christned in English by that vnknowne Godfather, that this last yeare saue one, viz. 1589. set forth a booke, called the Art of English Poetrie: and least of all do I purpose to bestow any long time to argue, whether Plato, Zenophon and E­rasmus, writing fictions and dialogues in prose, may iustly be called Poes; or whether Lucan writing a storie in verse be an Historiographer, or whether Master Faire translating Virgil, Master Golding translating Ouids Metamorphosis, and my selfe in this worke that you see, be any more then versifiers, as the same Ignoto termeth all translators: for as for all, or the most part of such questions, I will referre you to Sir Philip Sidneys Apologie, who doth han­dle them right learnedly, or to the forenamed treatise, where they are discoursed more large­ly, and where, as it were a whole receit of Poetrie is prescribed, with so many new named fi­gures, as would put me in great hope in this age to come would breed many excellent Po­ets, saue for one obseruation that I gather out of the very same booke. For though the poore gentleman laboreth greatly to proue, or rather to make Poetrie an art, and reciteth as you may see in the plurall number, some pluralities of patternes, and parcels of his owne Poe­trie, with diuers peeces of Partheniads and hymnes in praise of the most praise-worthy: yet whatsoeuer he would proue by all these, sure in my poore opinion he doth proue nothing more plainely, then that which M. Sidney and all the learneder sort that haue written of it do pronounce, namely that it is a gift and not an art; I say he proueth it, because making himselfe and many others so cunning in the art, yet he sheweth himself so slender a gift in it, deseruing to be commended as Martiall praiseth one that he compares to Tully:

Carmina quod scribis, musis & Apolline nullo
Laudari debes, hoc Ciceronis habes.

But to come to the purpose, and to speake after the phrase of the common sort, that terme all that is written in verse Poetrie, and rather in scorne then in praise, bestow the name of a Poet on euery base rimer and ballad-maker: this I say of it, and I thinke I say truly, that there are many good lessons to be learned out of it, many good examples to be found in it, many good vses to be had of it, and that therefore it is not, nor ought not to be despised by the wiser sort, but so to be studied and employed, as was intended by the first writers and de­uisers thereof, which is to soften and polish the hard and rough dispositions of men, and make them capable of vertue and good discipline.

I cannot denie but to vs that are Christians, in respect of the high end of all, which is the health of our soules, not onely Poetrie, but all other studies of Philosophie, are in a man­ner vaine and supersluous: yea (as the wise man faith) whatsoeuer is vnder the sunne is va­nitie of vanities, and nothing but vanitie. But sith we liue with men and not with saints, and because few men can embrace this strict and stoicall diuinitie, or rather indeed, for that the holy Scriptures, in which those high mysteries of our saluation are contained, are a deepe and profound studie, and not subiect to euery weake capacitie, no nor to the highest wits and iudgements, except they be first illuminate by Gods spirit, or instructed by his teachers and preachers: therefore we do first reade some other authors, making them as it were a loo­king-glasse to the eyes of our mind; and then after we haue gathered more strength, we enter into profounder studies of higher mysteries, hauing first as it were enabled our eyes by long beholding the sunne in a bason of water, at last to looke vpon the sunne it selfe. So we reade how that great Moses, whose learning and sanctitie is so renowned o­uer all nations, was first instructed in the learning of the Aegyptians, before he came to that high contemplation of God and familiaritie (as I may so terme it) with God. So the notable Prophet Daniel was brought vp in the learning of the Chaldeans, and made that [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] the first step of his higher vocation to be a Prophet. If then we may by the example of two such speciall seruants of God, spend some of our yong yeares in studies of humanitie, what better and more sweet study is there for a yong man then Poetrie? specially Heroicall Poesie, that with her sweete statelinesse doth erect the mind, and lift it vp to the consideration of the highest matters; and allureth them, that of themselues would otherwise loth them, to take and swallow and digest the wholsome precepts of Philosophie, and many times euen of the true Diuinitie.Plutarch de audiendis Poetis. Wherefore Plutarch hauing written a whole treatise of the praise of Homers workes, and another of reading Poets, doth begin this latter with this comparison, that as men that are sickly and haue weake stomackes or daintie tastes, do many times thinke that flesh most delicate to eate, that is not flesh, and those fishes that be not fish: so yong men (saith he) do like best that Philosophie that is not Philosophie, or that is not deliuered as Phi­losophie: and such are the pleasant writings of learned Poets, that are the popular Philoso­phers and the popular Diuines.Tasso. Canto 1. staffe 3. Likewise Tasso in his excellent worke of Ierusalem Liberato, likeneth Poetrie to the Physicke that men giue vnto little children when they are sicke: his verse is this in Italian, speaking to God with a pretie Prosopopeia:

Sai, che la corre il mondo, oue piu versi
Di sue dulcezze, il lusingier Parnaso:
E che'lvero condito in molli versi.
I piuschiui allettando ha persuaso
Cosi al'egro fanciul porgiamo asperso
Disoaui liquor gli Orli del vaso
Succhi amari ing annato in tanto ei beue
E dal inganno suo vita receue.
Thou knowst, the want on wordlings euer runne
To sweete Parnassus fruites, how otherwhile
The truth well sawe'd with pleasant verse hath wonne
Most squeamish stomackes with the sugred stile:
So the sicke child that potions all doth shunne,
With comfets and with sugar we beguile,
And cause him take a wholesome sowre receit,
He drinkes, and saues his life with such deceit.

This is then that honest fraud, in which (as Plutarch saith) he that is deceiued is wiser then he that is not deceiued, and he that doth deceiue, is honester then he that doth not deceiue.

But briefly to answer to the chiefe obiections,Agrippa de vanitate scientiarum. cap. 4. Cornelius Agrippa, a man of learning and authoritie not to be despised, maketh a bitter inuectiue against Poets and Poesie, and the summe of his reproofe of it is this (which is all that can with any probablitie be said against it:Foure obiectiōs against Poetry.) That it is a nurse of lies, a pleaser of fooles, a breeder of dangerous errors, and an inticer to wantonnesse. I might here warne those that will vrge this mans authoritie to the disgrace of Poetrie, to take heed (of what calling soeuer they be) least with the same weapon that they thinke to giue Poetrie a blow, they giue themselues a maime. For Agrippa taketh his pleasure of greater matters then Poetrie: I maruell how he durst do it, saue that I see he hath done it, he hath spared neither myters nor scepters. The courts of Princes, where vertue is rewarded, iustice maintained, oppressions releeued, he cals them a Colledge of Giants, of tyrants, of oppressors, warriors: the most noble sort of noble men, he termeth cur­sed, bloudie, wicked, and sacrilegious persons. Noble men (and vs poore Gentlemen) that thinke to borrow praise of our auncestors deserts and good fame, he affirmeth to be a race of the sturdier sort of knaues, and licencious liuers. Treasurers and other great officers of the common wealth, with graue counsellers, whose wise heads are the pillars of the state, he af­firmeth generally to be robbers and peelers of the realme, and priuie traitors that sell their Princes fauours, and rob wel-deseruing seruitors of their reward. [Page] I omit as his peccadilia, how he nicknameth priests saying, for the most part they are hypo­crites; lawiers, saying they are all theeues; phisitians, saying they are many of them murthe­rers: so as I thinke it were a good motion, and would easily passe by the consent of the three estates, that this mans authoritie should be vtterly ad [...]ihilated, that dealeth so hardly and vniustly with all sorts of professions. But for the reiecting of his writings, I refer it to others that haue power to do it, and to condemne him for a generall libeller, but for that he writeth against Poetrie,Answer to the first of lying. I meane to speake a word or two in refuting thereof. And first for lying, I might if I list excuse it by the rule of Poetica licentia, and claime a priueledge giuen to Poe­trie, whose art is but an imitation (as Aristotle calleth it) and therefore are allowed to faine what they list, according to that old verse,

Iuridicis, Erebo, fisco, fas viuere rapto,
Militibus, medicis, tortori, occidere Ludo est:
Mentiri Astronomis, pictoribus atque Poetis.
Which because I count it without reason, I will English it without rime.
Lawyers, Hell, and the Checquer are allowed to liue on spoile,
Souldiers, Phisitians, and hangmen make a sport of murther,
Astronomers, Painters, and Poets may lye by authoritie.

Thus you see, that Poets may lye if they list Cum priuilegio: but what if they lye least of all other men? what if they lye not at all? then I thinke that great slaunder is verie vniustly raised vpon them. For in my opinion they are said properly to lye, that affirme that to be true that is false: and how other arts can free themselues from this blame let them look that professe them: but Poets neuer affirming any for true, but presenting them to vs as fables and imitations, cannot lye though they would: and because this obiection of lyes is the chiefest, and that vpon which the rest be grounded, I wil stand the longer vpon the clearing thereof.

The ancient Poets haue indeed wrapped as it were in their writings diuers and sundrie meanings, which they call the sences or mysteries thereof. First of all for the literall sence (as it were the vtmost barke or ryne) they set downe in manner of an historie, the acts and notable exploits of some persons worthie memorie; then in the same fiction, as a second rine and somewhat more fine, as it were nearer to the pith and marrow, they place the Mo­rall sence, profitable for the actiue life of man [...], approuing vertuous actions, and condem­ning the contrarie. Manie times also vnder the selfesame words they comprehend some true vnderstanding of naturall Philosophíe, or sometime of politike gouernement, and now and then of diuinitie: and these same sences that comprehend so excellent know­ledge we call the Allegorie, which Plutarch defineth to be when one thing is told, and by that another is vnderstood. Now let any man iudge, if it be a matter of meane art or wit, to containe in one historicall narration either true or fained, so many, so diuerse, and so deepe conceits: but for making the matter more plaine I will alledge an example thereof.

Perseus sonne of Iupiter is fained by the Poets to haue slaine Gorgon, Ouids Meta [...]orph. 4. and after that conquest atchieued, to haue flowen vp to heauen. The Historicall sence is this, Perse­us the sonne of Iupiter, by the participation of Iupiters vertues that were in him; or rather comming of the stock of one of the kings of Creet, or Athens so called; slue Gorgon a tyrant in that countrey (Gorgon in greeke signifieth earth) and was for his vertuous parts exalted by men vp into heauen. Morally it signifieth thus much, Perseus a wise man, sonne of Iupiter endewed with vertue from aboue, slayeth sinne and vice, a thing base and earthly; signified by Gorgon, and so mounteth to the skie of vertue: It signifies in one kinde of Allegorie thus much; the mind of man being gotten by God, and so the childe of God, killing and vanquishing the earthlinesse of this Gorgonicall nature, ascendeth vp to the vnderstanding of heauenly things, of high things, of eternall things, in which con­templation consisteth the perfection of man: this is the naturall allegorie, because man, one of [Page] the chiefe works of nature: It hath also a more high and heauenly Allegorie, that the hea­uenly nature, daughter of Iupiter, procuring with her continuall motion, corruption and mortalitie in the interiour bodies, seuered it selfe at last from these earthly bodies, and flew vp on high, and there remaineth for euer. It hath also another Theologicall Allegorie, that the angelicall nature, daughter of the most high God the creator of all things; killing and ouercomming all bodily substance, signified by Gorgon, ascended into heauen: the like infinite Allegories I could picke out of other Poeticall fictions, saue that I would auoid tediousnesse. It sufficeth me therefore to note this, that the men of greatest learning and highest wit in the auncient times, did of purpose conceale these deepe mysteries of learning, and as it were couer them with the veile of fables and verse for sundrie cau­ses: one cause was, that they might not be rashly abused by prophane wits, in whom sci­ence is corrupted, like good wine in a bad vessell: another cause why they wrote in verse, was conseruation of the memorie of their precepts, as we see yet the generall rules almost of euerie art, not so much as husbandrie, but they are of [...]ner recited and better remem­bred in verse then in prose: another, and a principall cause of all, is to be able with one kinde of meate and one dish (as I may so call it) to feed diuers-tastes. For the weaker ca­pacities will feed themselues with the pleasantnesse of the historie and sweetnes of the verse, some that haue stronger stomackes will as it were take a further tast of the Mo­ralisence, a third sort more high conceited then they, will digest the Allegorie: so as in­deed it hath bene thought by men of verie good iudgement, such manner of Poeticall writing was an excellent way to preserue all kinde of learning from that corruption which now it is come to since they left that mysticall writing of verse. Now though I know the example and authoritie of Aristotle and Plato be still vrged against this, who tooke to themselues another manner of writing: first I may say indeed that lawes were made for poore men, and not for Princes, for these two great Princes of Philosophie, brake that former allowed manner of writing, yet Plato still preserued the fable, but re­fused the verse. Aristotle though reiecting both, yet retained still a kinde of obscuritie, insomuch he answered Alexander, who reprooued him in a sort, for publishing the sa­cred secrets of Philosophie, that he had set forth his bookes in a sort, and yet not set them forth; meaning that they were so obscure that they would be vnderstood of few, except they came to him for instructions; or else without they were of verie good capacitie and studious of Philosophie. But (as I say) Plato howsoeuer men would make him an enemie of Poetrie (because he found indeed iust fault with the abuses of some comicall Poets of his time, or some that sought to set vp new and strange religions) yet you see he kept stil l that principall part of Poetrie, which is fiction and imitation; and as for the other part of Poetrie which is verse, though he vsed it not, yet his maister Socrates euen in his old age wrote certaine verses, as Plutarke restifieth: but because I haue named the two parts of Poetrie, namely inuention or fiction, and verse, let vs see how well we can au­thorise the vse of both these. First for fiction, against which as I told before, many in­uei [...]h, calling it by the foule name of lying, though notwithstanding, as I then said, it is farthest from it: Demosthenes the famous and renowned Orator, when he would perswade the Athenians to warre against Philip, told them a solemne tale how the Wolues on a time sent Ambassadors to the sheepe, offering them peace if they would deliuer vp the dogs that kept their folds, with all that long circumstance (needelesse to be repeated) by which he perswaded them far more strongly then if he should haue told them in plaine termes, that Philip sought to bereaue them of their chiefe bulwarks & defences, to haue the better abili­tie to ouerthrow them. But what need we fetch an authority so far off from heathen authors, that haue many neerer hand both in time and in place? Bishop Fisher a stout Prelat though I do not praise his Religion) when he was assaid by king Henrie the eight for his good will and assent for the suppression of Abbyes, the king alledging that he would but take away the superflu [...]ties, and let the substance stand still, or at least see it conuerted to better [Page] and more godly vses: the graue Bishop answered it in this kinde of Poeticall parable: He said there was an axe that wanting a helue came to a thicke and huge ouergrown wood, and be sought some of the great okes in that wood, to spare him so much timber as to make him a handle or helue, promising that if he might finde that fauour, he would in recompence thereof, haue great regard in preseruing that wood, in pruning the branches, in cu [...]ing away the vnprofitable and superfluous boughes, in paring away the b [...]yers and thornes that were combersome to the fayre trees, and making it in fine a groue of great delight and plea­sure: but when this same axe had obtained his su [...]e, he so laid about him, and so pared away both timber and top and lop, that in short space of a woodland he made it a champion, and made her liberalitie the instrument of her ouerthrow.

Now though this Bishop had no very good successe with his parable, yet it was so farre from being counted a lye, that it was plainly seene soone after that the same axe did both hew downe those woods by the roots, and pared him off by the head, and was a peece of Prophecie, as well as a peece of Poetrie: and indeed Prophets and Poets haue bene thought to haue a great affinitie, as the name Vates in Latin doth testifie. But to come againe to this manner of fiction or parable, the Prophet Nathan, reprouing king Dauid for his great sinne of adulterie and murther, doth he not come to him with a pretie parable, of a poore man and his lambe that lay in his bosome, and eat of his bread, and the rich man that had whole flocks of his owne would needs take it from him? In which as it is euident it was but a para­ble, so it were vnreuerent and almost blasphemous to say it was a lye. But to go higher, did not our Sauiour himselfe speake in parables? as that deuine parable of the sower, that com­fortable parable of the Prodigall sonne, that dreadfull parable of Diues and Lazarus, though I know of this last, many of the fathers hold that it is a storie indeed, and no parable. But in the rest it is manifest, that he that was all holinesse, all wisedome, all truth, vsed parables, and euen such as discreet Poets vse, where a good and honest and wholsome Allegorie is hidden in a pleasant and pretie fiction, Two parts of Poetr [...]e, Imitation or inuention, and Verse. and therefore for that part of Poetrie of Imitation, I thinke no body will make any question, but it is not onely allowable, but godly and com­mendable, if the Poets ill handling of it doe nor marre and peruert the good vse of it. The other part of Poetrie, which is Verse, as it were the clothing or ornament of it, hath many good vses; of the helpe of memorie I spake somewhat before; for the words being couched together in due order, measure, and number, one doth as it were bring on another, as my selfe haue often proued, and so I thinke do many beside, (though for my owne part I can rather bost of the marring a good memorie, then of hauing one,) yet I haue euer found, that Verse is easier to learne, and farre better to preserue in memorie, then is prose. Another speciall grace in Verse is the forcible manner of phrase, in which if it be well made, it farre excelleth loose speech or prose: a third is the pleasure and sweetenesse to the eare, which makes the discourse pleasant vnto vs often time when the matter it selfe is harsh and vn­acceptable; for my owne part I was neuer yet so good a husband, to take any delight to hear [...] one of mv ploughmen tell how an acre of wheat must be fallowd and twy fallowd, and how cold land should be burned, and how fruitfull land must be well harrowed, but when I heare one read Virgil where he saith:

Saepe etiam steriles incendere profuit agros,
At (que) leuem stipulam crepitantibus vrere flammis.
Siue inde occultas vires & pabula terrae
Pinguia concipiunt; siue illis omne per [...]onem
Excoquitur vitium, at (que) exsudat inutilis humor, &c.

And after.

Mulium adeo, rastris glebas qui frangit inertes
Vimineas (que) trahit crates, iuuat arua.

With many other lessons of homely husbandrie, but deliuered in so good Verse that me [Page] thinkes all that while I could find in my heart to driue the plough. But now for the autho­ritie of Verse, if it be not sufficient to say for them, that the greatest Philosophers, and gra­uest Senatours that euer were, haue vsed them both in their speeches and in their writings, that precepts of all Arts haue beene deliuered in them, that verse is as auncient a writing as prose, and indeed more auncient, in respect that the oldest workes extant be verse, as Or­phaeus, Linus, Hesiodus, and others beyond memorie of man, or mention almost of historie; if none of these will serue for the credit of it, yet let this serue, that some part of the Scripture was written in verse, as the Psalmes of Dauid, and certaine other songs of Deborah, of Salo­mon and others, which the learnedest diuines do affirme to be verse, and find that they are in meeter, though the rule of the Hebrew verse they agree not on. Sufficeth it me onely to proue that by the authoritie of sacred Scriptures, both parts of Poesie, inuention or imitation, and verse are allowable, and consequently that great obiection of lying is quite taken away and refuted. Now the second obiection is pleasing of fooles; I haue already showed, how it dis­pleaseth not wise men, Answ [...]re to the s [...]ond ob­iection. now if it haue this vertue to, to please the fooles, and ignorant, I wold thinke this an article of prayse not of rebuke: wherefore I confesse that it pleaseth fooles and so pleaseth them, that if they marke it and obserue it well, it will in time make them wise, for in verse is both goodnesse and sweetnesse, Rubarb and Sugercandie, the pleasant and the profitable: wherefore as Horace sayth, Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit vtile dulci, he that can mingle the sweete and wholsome, the pleasant and the profitable, he is indeed an absolute good writer, & such be Poets, if any be such, they present vnto vs a prettie tale, able to keepe a childe from play, and an old man from the chimnie corner: Or as the same Horace saith, to a couetous man:

Tantalus à labris sitiens fugientia captat
Flumina, quid rides? mutato nomine de te
Fabula narratur.

One tels a couetous man a tale of Tantalus, that sits vp to the chinne in water, and yet is plagued with thirst. This signifies the selfesame man to whom the tale is told, that wal­lows in plentie, and yet his miserable minde barres him of the vse of it: As my selfe knew and I am sure many remember Iustice Randall of London, a man passing impotent in body but much more in mind, that leauing behind him a thousand pounds of gold in a chest ful of old boots and shoes, yet was so miserable, that at my Lord Maiors dinner they say he would put vp a widgen for his supper, and many a good meale he did take of his franke neighbour the widdow Penne: but to come to the matter, this same great sinne that is laide to Poetrie of pleasing fooles, A [...] to [...] is fufficiently answered if it be worth the answering. Now for the bree­ding of errours which is the third Obiection, I see not why it should breed any when none is bound to beleeue that they write, nor they looke not to haue their fictions beleeued in the literall sence, aud therefore he that well examine whence errours spring, shall finde the writers of prose & not of verse, the authors and maintainers of them, and this point I count so manifest as it needes no proofe. The last reproofe is lightnes and wantonnes, this is indeed an Obiection of some importance, sith as Sir Philip Sidney confesseth, Cupido is crept euen into the Heroicall Poemes, & consequently maketh that also, subiect to this reproofe: I pro­mised in the beginning not partially to praise Poesie, but plainly and honestly to confesse that, that might truely be obiected against it, and if any thing may be, sure it is this lasciui­ousnesse; yet this I will say, that of all kinde of Poesie, the Heroicall is least infected there­with. The other kindes I will rather excuse then defend, though of all the kindes of Poesie it may be sayd, where any scurrilitie and lewdnesse is found, there Poetrie doth not abuse vs, but writers haue abused Poetrie. And brieflie to examine all the kindes: First the Tragicall is meerely free from it, as representing onely the cruell and lawlesse pro­ceedings of Princes, mouing nothing but pitie or detestation. The Comicall (whatsoeuer foolish play makers make it offend in this kind) yet being rightly vsed, it represents them [Page] so as to make the vice scorned and not embraced. The Satyrike is meerly free from it, as be­ing wholy occupied in mannerly and couertly reprouing of all vices. The Elegie is stil mour­ning: as for the Pastorall with the Sonnet or Epigramme, though many times they sauour of wantonnesse and loue and toying, and now and then breaking the rules of Poetrie, go in­to plaine scurrilitie, yet euen the worst of them may be not ill applied, and are, I must con­fesse, too delightfull, in so much as Martial saith,

Laudant illa, sed ista legunt.

And in another place,

Erubuit posuit (que), meum Lucrecia librum:
Sed coram Bruto. Brute recede, leget.

Lucrecia (by which he signifies any chast matron) will blush and be ashamed to reade a lasciuious booke: but how? not except Brutus be by, that is, if any graue man should see her reade it; but if Brutus turne his backe, she will to it againe and reade it all. But to end this part of my Apologie, as I count and conclude Heroicall Poesie allowable, and to be read and studied without all exception: so may I boldly say, that Tragedies well handled, be a most worthy kind of Poesie; that Comedies may make men see and shame at their owne faults, that the rest may be so written and so read, as much pleasure and some profite may be gathered out of them. And for mine owne part, as Scaliger writeth of Virgil, so I beleeue, that the reading of a good Heroicall Poeme may make a man both wiser and honester: and for Tragedies, to omit other famous Tragedies, that that which was played at Saint Iohns in Cambridge, of Richard the third, would moue (I thinke) Phalaris the tyrant, and terrifie all tyrannous minded men, from following their foolish ambitious humors, seeing how his am­bition made him kill his brother, his nephewes, his wife, beside infinite others; and last of all after a short and troublesome raigne, to end his miserable life, and to haue his bodie har­ried after his death. Then for Comedies: how full of harmelesse mirth is our Cambridge Pe­dantius? and the Oxford Bellum Grammaticale? or to speake of a London Comedie, how much good matter, yea and matter of state, is there in that Comedie called the play of the Cards? in which it is shewed how foure Parasiticall knaues robbe the foure principall vo­cations of the Realme, videl, the vocation of Souldiers, Schollers, Merchants and Husband­men. Of which Comedie I cannot forget the saying of a notable wise counseller that is now dead, who when some (to sing Placebo) aduised that it should be forbidden, because it was somewhat too plaine, Sir Frances VValsingham. and indeed as the old saying is, sooth boord is no boord, yet he would haue it allowed, adding it was fit that they which do that they should not, should heare that they wold not. Finally, if Comedies may be so made as the beholders may be bettered by them, without all doubt all other sorts of Poetrie may bring their profite as they do bring delight; and if all, then much more the chiefe of all, which by all mens consent is the Heroicall. And thus much be said for Poesie.

Now for this Poeme of Orlando Furioso, which as I haue heard, hath bene disliked by some, though by few of any wit or iudgement, it followes that I say somewhat in defence thereof, The second part of the Apology. which I will do the more moderatly and coldly, by how much the paines I haue ta­ken in it (rising as you may see to a good volume) may make me seeme a more partiall prai­ser. Wherefore I will make choise of some other Poeme that is allowed and approued by all men, and a little compare them together: and what worke can serue this turne so fitly as Virgils Aeneados, whom aboue all other it seemeth my author doth follow, as appeares both by his beginning and ending. The one begins,

Arma virum (que) cano.

The other,

Le donne I cauallieri l' arme gli amori
Le cortesie l' audace imprese io canto.

Virgil ends with the death of Turnus:

Vita (que) cum gemitu fugit indignata sub vmbras.

[Page] Ariosto ends with the death of Rodomont,

Bestemiando fugi l' alma sdegnosa
Che fu si altero al mondo e si orgogliosa.

Virgil extolleth Aeneas to please Augustus, of whose race he was thought to come. A­riosto praiseth Rogero to the honour of the house of Este. Aeneas hath his Dido that retaineth him: Rogero hath his Alcina: finally left I should note euery part, there is nothing of any spe­ciall obseruation in Virgil, but my author hath with great felicitie imitated it, so as whoso­euer will allow Uirgil, must ipso facto (as they say) admit Ariosto. Now of what account Virgil is reckned, and worthily reckned, for ancient times witnesseth Augustu [...] Caesars verse of him:

Ergone supremis potuit vox improba verbis
Tam dirum mandare nefas? &c.

Concluding thus,

Laudetur, placeat, vigeat, relegatur, ametur.

This is a great praise, comming from so great a Prince. For later times, to omit Scaliger, whom I recited before, that affirmeth the reading of Virgil may make a man honest and ver­tuous: that excellent Italian Poet Dant professeth plainly, that when he wandred out of the right way (meaning thereby, when he liued fondly and loosly) Virgil was the first that made him looke into himselfe, and reclaime himselfe from that same dangerous and leud course. But what need we further witnesse, do we not make our children reade it commonly before they can vnderstand it, as a testimonie that we do generally approue it? and yet we see old men studie it, as a proofe that they do specially admire it: so as one writes very pretily, that children do wade in Uirgil, and yet strong men do swim in it.

Now to apply this to the praise of mine author, as I said before, so I say still, whatsoeuer is praise-worthy in Virgil, is plentifully to be found in Ariosto, and some things that Virgil could not haue for the ignorance of the age he liued in, you find in my author, sprinkled o­uer all his worke, as I will very briefly note, and referre you for the rest to the booke it selfe. The deuout and Christian demeanor of Charlemaine in the 14. booke with his prayer,

Non vogliatua bonta per mio fallire
Ch'l tuo popol fidele babbia a patire, &c.

And in the beginning of the 17. booke that would be seeme any pulpit:

Il giusto Dio quando i peccati nostri.

But aboue all, that in the 41. booke of the conuersion of Rogero to the Christian Religion, where the Hermit speaketh to him, containing in effect a ful instruction against presumption and despaire, which I haue set downe thus in English,

Now (as I said) this wise that Hermit spoke,
And part doth comfort him, and part doth checke:
He blameth him that in that pleasant yoke
He had so long deferd to put his necke,
But did to wrath his maker still prouoke:
And did not come at his first call and becke,
But still did hide himselfe away from God,
Vntill he saw him comming with his rod.
Then did he comfort him, and make him know,
That grace is nere denide to such as aske,
As do the workmen in the Gospell show,
Receiuing pay alike for diuers taske.

And so after concluding,

How to Christ he must impute
The pardon of his sinnes, yet nere the later
He told him he must be baptiz'd in water.

[Page]These and infinite places full of Christen exhortation, doctrine and example, I could quote out of the book, saue that I hasten to an end, and it would be needles to those that wil not read them in the booke it selfe, and superfluous to those that will: but most manifest it is and not to be denyed, that in this point my author is to be preferred before all the ancient Poets, in which are mentioned so many false Gods, and of them so many fowle deeds, their contentions, their adulteries, their incest, as were both obscenous in recitall, and hurtfull in example: though indeed those whom they tearmed Gods, were certaine great Princes that committed such enormous faults, as great Princes in late ages (that loue still to be cald Gods of the earth) do often commit. But now it may be and is by some obiected, that although he write Christianly in some places, yet in other some, he is too lasciuious, as in that of the bau­dy Frier, in Alcina and Rogeros copulation, in Anselmus his Giptian, in Richardetto his meta­morphosis, in mine hosts tale of Astolfo, and some few places beside; alas if this be a fault, par­don him this one fault; though I doubt to many of you (gentle readers) will be too exorable in this point; yea me thinks I see some of you searching already for these places of the book, and you are halfe offended that I haue not made some directions that you might finde out and read them immediatly. But I beseech you stay a while, and as the Italian saith Pian pia­no, fayre and softly, and take this caueat with you, to read them as my author meant them to breed detestation and not delectation: remember when you read of the old lecherous Frier, that a fornicator is one of the things that God hateth. When you read of Alcina, thinke how Ioseph fled from his intising mistres; when you light on Anselmus tale, learne to loath beastly couetousnes, when on Richardetto, know that sweet meate will haue sowre sawce, when on mine hosts tale (if you will follow my counsell) turne ouer the leafe and let it alone, although euen that lewd tale may bring some men profit, and I haue heard that it is already (and perhaps not vnfitly) termed the comfort of cuckolds. But as I say, if this be a fault, then Virgil committed the same fault in Dido and Aeneas entertainement: & if some will say, he tels that mannerly and couertly, how will they excuse that, where Vulcan was inteated by Venus to make an armour for Aeneas?

Dixerat, & niu [...]s hinc at (que) hinc diua lacertis
Cunctantem ample xu molli fouet, ille repente
Accepit solitam flammam, notus (que) per artus
Intrauit calor. And alittle after. Ea verba locutus
Optatos dedit amplexus placitum (que) petiuit
Coniug is infusus gremio per membra soporem.

I hope they that vnderstand Latin will confesse this is plaine enough, & yet with modest words & no obscenons phrase: and so I dare take vpon me that in al Ariosto (and yet I thinke it is as much as three Aeneads,) there is not a word of ribaldry or obscenousnes: farther there is so meet a decorum in the persons of those that speake lasciuiously, as any of iudge­ment must needs allow; and therefore though I rather craue pardon then prayse for him in this point; yet me thinkes I can smile at the finesse of some, that will condemne him, and yet not onely allow, but admire our Chawcer, who both in words and sence, 'incurreth far more the reprehensiō of flat scurrilitie, as I could recite many places, not onely in his Millers tale, but in the good wife of Bathes tale, & many more, in which onely the decorum he keepes, is that that excuseth it, and maketh it more tolerable. But now whereas some will say, A [...]i­osto wanteth art, reducing all heroicall Poems vnto the method of Homer and certaine pre­cepts of Aristotle. For Homer I say, that that which was commendable in him to write in that age, the times being changed, would be thought otherwise now, as we see both in phrase & in fashions the world growes more curious each day then other: Ouid gaue precepts of ma­king loue, and one was that one should spill wine one the boord & write his mistresse name therewith, this was a quaynt cast in that age; but he that should make loue so now, his loue would mocke him for his labour, and count him but a slouenly sutor: and if it be thus chaunged since Ouids time, much more since Homers time. And yet for Ariostos tales that [Page] many thinke vnartificially brought in; Homer himselfe hath the like: as in the Iliads the conference of Glaucus with Diomedes vpon some acts of Bellerophon: & in his Odysseas the discourse of the hog with Vlysses. Further, for the name of the booke, which some carpe at, because he called it Orlando Furioso rather then Rogero, in that he may also be defended by example of Homer, who professing to write of Achilles, calleth his booke Iliade of Troy, and not Achillide. As for Aristotles rules, I take it, he hath followed them verie strictly.

Briefly, Aristotle and the best censurers of Poesie, would haue the Epopeia, that is, the heroicall Poem, should ground on some historie, and take some short time in the same to bewtifie with his Poetrie: so doth mine Author take the storie of K. Charls the great, and doth not exceed a yeare or therabout in his whole worke. Secondly they hold, that nothing should be fayned vtterly incredible. And sure Ariosto neither in his inchantments excee­deth credit (for who knowes not how strong the illusions of the diuell are?) neither in the miracles that Astolfo by the power of S. Iohn is fayned to do, since the Church holdeth that Prophets both aliue and dead, haue done mightie great miracles. Thirdly, they would haue an heroicall Poem (aswell as a Tragedie) to be full of Peripetia, which I interpret an agniti­on on of some vnlooked for fortune either good or bad, and a sudd en change thereof: of this what store there be the reader shall quickly finde. 'As for apt similitudes, for passions well ex­pressed, of loue, of pitie, of hate, of wrath, a blind man may see, if he can but heare, that this worke is full of them.

There follows onely two reproofs, which I rather interpret two peculiar praises of this writer aboue all that wrote before him in this kind: One, that he breaks off narrations ve­rie abruptly, so as indeed a loose vnattentiue reader, will hardly carrie away any part of the storie: but this doubtlesse is a point of great art, to draw a man with a continuall thirst to reade ouer the whole worke, and toward the end of the booke, to close vp the diuerse mat­ters briefly and cleanly. If S. Philip Sidney had counted this a fault, he would not haue done so himselfe in his Arcadia. Another fault is, that he speaketh so much in his owne person by digression, which they say also is against the rules of Poetrie, because neither Homer nor Virgil did it. Me thinks it is a sufficient defence to say, Ariosto doth it; sure I am, it is both delightfull and verie profitable, and an excellent breathing place for the reader, and euen as if a man walked in a faire long alley, to haue a seat or resting place here and there is easie and commodious: but if at the same seate were planted some excellent tree, that not onely with the shade should keepe vs from the heat, but with some pleasant and right wholsome fruite should allay our thirst and comfort our stomacke, we would thinke it for the time a litle pa­radice: so are Ariostos morals and pretie digressions sprinkled through his long worke, to the no lesse pleasure then profit of the reader. And thus much be spoken for defence of mine Author, which was the second part of my Apologie.

Now remaines the third part of it, in which I promised to speake somwhat for my selfe, which part, The third part of the Apologie. though it haue most need of an Apologie both large and substantiall; yet I will run it ouer both shortly and slightly, because indeed the nature of the thing it selfe is such, that the more one doth say, the lesse he shall seeme to say; and men are willinger to praise that in another man, which himselfe shall debase, then that which he shall seeme to main­taine. Certainly if I should confesse or rather professe, that my verse is vnartificiall, the stile rude, the phrase barbarous, the meeter vnpleasant, many more would beleeue it to be so, thē would imagine that I thought them so: for this same [...] or selfe pleasing is so cōmon a thing, as the more a man protests himselfe to be from it, the more we wil charge him with it. Wherefore let me take thus much vpon me, that admit it haue many of the forenamed im­perfections, and many not named, yet as writing goes now a dayes, it may passe among the rest; and as I haue heard a friend of mine (one verie iudicious in the beautie of a woman) say of a Ladie whom he meant to praise, that she had a low forhead, a great nose, a wide mouth, a long visage, and yet all these put together, she seemed to him a verie well, fauou­red woman: so I hope, and I finde alreadie some of my partiall friends, that what seuerall [Page] imperfections soeuer they finde in this translation, yet taking all together they allow it, or at least wise they reade it, which is a great argument of their liking.

Sir Thomas Moore a man of great wisedome and learning, but yet a litle enclined (as good wits are many times) to scoffing, when one had brought him a booke of some shallow dis­course, and preassed him very hard to haue his opinion of it, aduised the partie to put it into verse; the plaine meaning man in the best maner he could he did so, and a twelue-month after at the least, came with it to Sir Thomas, who slightly perusing it, gaue it this encomium, that now there was rime in it, but afore it had neither rime nor reason. If any man had ment to serue me so, yet I haue preuented him; for sure I am he shal finde rime in mine, & if he be not voyd of reason, he shal finde reason to. Though for the matter, I can challenge no praise, hauing but borrowed it, and for the verse I do challenge none, being a thing that euery body that neuer scarce bayted their horse at the Vniuersitie take vpon them to make. It is possi­ble that if I would haue employed that time that I haue done vpon this, vpon some inuep­tion of mine owne, I could haue by this made it haue risen to a iust volume, and if I would haue done as many spare not to do, flowne verie high with stolen fethers. But I had rather men should see and know that I borrow all, then that I steale any: and I would wish to be called rather one of the not worst translators, then one of the meaner makers. Specially sith the Earle of Surrey, and Sir Thomas Wiat, that are yet called the first refiners of the English tong, were both translators out of Italian. Now for those that count it such a contemptible and trifling matter to translate, I will but say to them as M. Bartholomew Ciarke an excel­lent learned man, and a right good translator, saith in manner of a prettie challenge, in his Preface (as I remember) vpon the Courtier, which booke he translated out of Italian into Latin. You (saith he) that thinke it such a toy, lay aside my booke, and take my author in your hand, and trie a leafe or such a matter, and compare it with mine. If I should say so, there would be enow that would quickly put me downe perhaps; but doubtlesse he might bold­ly say it, for I thinke none could haue mended him. But as our English prouerbe saith, many talke of Robin Hood that neuer shot in his bow, and some correct Magnificat, that know not quid significat. For my part I will thanke them that will amend any thing that I haue done amisse, nor I haue no such great conceipt of that I haue done, but that I thinke much in it is to be mended; and hauing dealt playnly with some of my plaine dealing friends, to tell me frankly what they heard spoken of it (for indeed I suffered some part of the printed copies to go among my friends, and some more perhaps went against my wil) I was told that these in effect were the faults were found with it. Some graue men misliked that I should spend so much good time on such a trifling worke as they deemed a Poeme to be. Foure faults found in this worke. Some more nicely, found fault with so many two sillabled and three sillabled rimes. Some (not vndeseruedly) reproued the fantasticalnes of my notes, in which they say I haue strained my selfe to make mention of some of my kindred and friends, that might verie well be left out. And one fault more there is, which I will tell my selfe, though many would neuer finde it; and that is; I haue cut short some of his Cantos, in leauing out many staues of them, and sometimes put the matter of two or three staues into one. To these reproofes I shall pray you gentle and noble Readers with patience heare my defence, Answer to the first. and then I will end. For the first reproofe, etiher it is alreadie excused, or it will neuer be excused; for I haue I thinke suf­ficiently proued, both the art to be allowable, and this worke to be commendable: yet I will tell you an accident that happened vnto my selfe. When I was entred a prettie way in­to the translation, about the seuenth booke, comming to write that where Melissa in the person of Rogeros Tutor, comes and reproues Rogero in the 4. staffe:

Was it for this, that I in youth thee fed
With marrow? &c. And againe:
Is this a meanes, or readie way you trow,
That other worthie men haue trod before,
A Caesar or a Scipio to grow? &c.

[Page] Straight I began to thinke, Samuel Fl [...]m­ming of kings colledge in Cambridge. that my Tutor, a graue and learned man, and one of a verie au­stere life, might say to me in like sort, Was it for this, that I read Aristotle and Plato to you, and instructed you so carefully both in Greek and Latin? to haue you now becom a transla­tor of Italian toyes? But while I thought thus, I was aware, that it was no toy that could put such an honest and serious consideration into my minde. The second. Now for them that finde fault with polysyllable meeter, me thinke they are like those that blame men for putting suger in their wine, and chide too bad about it, and say they marre al, but yet end with Gods blessing on their hearts. For indeed if I had knowne their diets, I could haue saued some of my cost, at least some of my paine; for when a verse ended with ciuillitie, I could easier after the aun­cient manner of rime, haue made see, or flee, or decree to answer it, leauing the accent vpon the last syllable, then hunt after three syllabled words to answer it with facillitie, gentillitie, tranquillitie, hostillitie, scurrillitie, debillitie, agillitie, fragillitie, nobillitie, mobillitie, which who mislike, may tast lampe oyle with their eares. And as for two syllabled meeters, they be so ap­prooued in other languages, that the French call them the feminine rime, as the sweeter: and the one syllable the masculin. But in a word to answer this, and to make them for euer hold their peaces of this point; Sir Philip Sidney not onely vseth them, but affecteth them: signifie, dignifie: shamed is, named is, blamed is: hide away, bide away. Though if my many blotted papers that I haue made in this kinde, might affoord me authoritie to giue a rule of it, I would say that to part them with a one syllable meeter betweene them, would giue it best grace. For as men vse to sow with the hand and not with the whole sacke, so I would haue the eare fed but not cloyed with these pleasing and sweet falling meeters. The third. For the third reproofe about the notes, sure they were a worke (as I may so call it) of supererogation, and I would wish sometimes they had bin left out, and the rather, if I be in such faire possibilitie to be thought a foole or fantasticall for my labour. True it is, I added some notes to the end of euery Can­to, euen as if some of my friends and my selfe reading it together (and so it fell out indeed many times) had after debated vpon them, what had bene most worthie consideration in them, and so oftimes immediatly i set it down. And whereas I make mention here and there of some of mine owne frends and kin, I did it the rather, because Plutarke in one place spea­king of Homer, partly lamenteth, and partly blameth him, that writing so much as he did, yet in none of his workes there was any mention made, or so much as inkling to be gathe­red of what stocke he was, of what kindred, of what towne, nor saue for his language, of what countrey. Excuse me then if I in a worke that may perhaps last longer then a better thing, and being not ashamed of my kindred, name them here and there to no mans offence, though I meant not to make euerie body so far of my counsell why I did it, till I was told that some person of some reckening noted me of a little vanitie for it: and thus much for that point.

For my omitting and abreuiating some things, The fourth. either in matters impertinent to vs, or in some too tedious flatteries of persons that we neuer heard of, if I haue done ill, I craue par­don; for sure I did it for the best. But if any being studious of the Italian, would for his bet­ter vnderstanding compare them, the first sixe bookes saue a little of the third, will stand him in steed. But yet I would not haue any man except, that I should obserue his phrase so strict­ly as an interpreter, nor the matter so carefully, as if it had bene a storie, in which to varie were as great a sin, as it were simplicitie in this to go word for word. But now to conclude, I shall pray you all that haue troubled your selues to read this my triple Apologie, to accept my labors, and to excuse my errors, if with no other thing, at least with the name of youth (which commonly hath need of excuses) and so presuming this pardon to be granted, we shall part good frends. [...] the life of Ariosto. Onely let me intreate you in reading the booke ensuing, not to do me that iniurie, that a Potter did to Artosto.

AN ADVERTISEMENT TO THE READER BEFORE HE READE THIS POEME, OF SOME THINGS TO BE OBSERVED, as vvell in the substance of this vvork [...], as also in the setting forth thereof, vvith the vse of the Pictures, Table, and annotations to the same annexed.

THere are peraduenture many men, and some of those both graue and godly men, that in respect they count all Poetrie as meerly tending to wantonnesle and vanitie, will at the very first sight reiect this booke, and not onely not allow, but blame and reproue the trauel taken in letting forth the same in our mother tongue. And surely for such censurers as will condemne without hearing the cause pleaded, I can be well content to haue them spare the labor in reading, which they thinke I haue lost in writing; and appealing from them, if not to higher at least to more indifferent iudges, namely such as wil vouchsafe to heare what can be spoken in defence of the matter, and then will yeeld (as wise men euer should do) to the stronger reason: I do to them direct this my short aduertisement, which (because all that may reade this booke are not of equall capacities) I will endeuor to explane more plainly, then for the learned sort had haply bene requisite.

And first if any haue this scruple, that it might be hurtfull for his soule or conscience, Of the matter of the book tending to vertue. to reade a booke of Poetry, as though it might alien his mind from vertue and religion, I referre him (beside many other excellent mens wri­tings, both in defence and praise thereof) to a litle briefe treatise in the beginning of this booke, written by me generally in defence of Poemes, and specially of this present worke, which I dare affirme to be neither vicious nor profane, but apt to breed the quite contrary effects, if a great fault be not in the readers owne bad disposition.

Secondly I haue in the marginall notes quoted the apt similitudes, The marginall notes. and pithie sentences or adages, with the best descriptions, and the excellent imitations, and the places and authors from whence they are taken.

Further, where diuers stories in this worke seeme in many places abruptly broken off, Direction for continuing the diuers stori [...]s. I haue set directions in the margent, where to find the continuance of euery such storie, though I would not wish any to reade them in that order at the first reading, but if any thinke them worthy the twise reading, then he may the second time not vnconueniently vse it, if the meane matter betweene the so deuided stories (vpon which commonly they de­pend) be not quite out of his memorie.

Also (according to the Italian maner) I haue in a staffe of eight verses comprehended the contents of euery Book or Canto, The contents of euery booke. in the beginning thereof, which hath two good vses, one to vnderstand the picture the perfecter, the other to remember the storie the better.

As for the pictures, they are all cut in brasse, The pictures. and most of them by the best workmen in that kind, that haue bin in this land this many yeares: yet I will not praise them too much, because I gaue direction for their making, and in regard thereof, I may be thought partiall; but this I may truly say, that (for mine owne part) I haue not seene any made in England better, nor (indeed) any of this kind in any booke, except it were a treatise set forth by that profound man master Broughton the list yeare, vpon the Reuelation, in which there are some three or foure pretie pictures (in octauo) cut in brasse very workmanly. As for other bookes that I haue seene in this Realme, either in Latine or English with pictures, as Liuie, Gesner, Alciats emblemes, a booke de Spectris in Latine, and in our tongue the Chronicles, the booke of Martyrs, the booke of hauking and hunting, and M. Whitneys ex­cellent Emblemes, yet all their figures are cut in wood, and none in metall, and in that respect inferiour to these, at least (by the old prouerbe) the more cost, the more worship.

The vse of the picture is euident, The vse of the picture and the perspectiue. which is, that (hauing read ouer the booke) you may reade it (as it were a­gaine) in the very picture; and one thing is to be noted, which euery one (haply) will not obserue, namely the perspectiue in euery figure. For the personages of men, the shapes of horses, and such like, are made large at the bottome, and lesser vpward, as if you were to behold all the same in a plaine, that which is nearest seemes greatest, and the fardest shewes smallest, which is the chiefe art in picture.

If the name of any man, The Table. The Tales. woman, country, towne, horse, or weapon seeme strange to any, I haue made a table where to find it. And in the same table, a direction for the seuerall tales, where to begin and end, those that may conueniently be read single, of which kind there are many, and those not vnpleasant.

Lastly, at the end of euery Book or Canto, because the Reader may take not only delight, but profit in reading, I haue noted in all (as occasion is offered) the Morall, the Historie, the Allegorie, and the Allusion.

The Morall, that we may apply it to our owne manners and disposition, to the amendment of the same. Morall.

The Historie, Historie. both that the true ground of the poeme may appeare, (for learned men hold, that a perfect po­eme must ground of a truth) (as I shew more at large in another place) as also to explane some things that are lightly touched by him, as examples of all times, either of old or of late.

The Allegorie, Allegorie. of some things that are meerely fabulous, yet haue an allegoricall sence, which euery bodie at the first shew cannot perceiue.

The Allusion: Allusion. of fictions, to be applied to some things done, or written of in times past, as also where it may be a [...]plied without offence to the time present. But these happen in very few bookes.

And this is all that [...] haue to aduertise the Reader, for if any other notes happen to come after, it is but for want of oome in the margent, that they were faine to be put out of their due place. It remaines onely to wish (because I find it will be delightfull to many) that it may be hurtfull to none, lest (if it should) both they and I be called to account for it, where not onely euill workes, but idle words shall be punished.




Charls hath the foyle, Angelica flies thence:
Renaldos horse holpe him his Loue to find:
Ferraw with him doth fight in her defence:
She flies againe, they stay not long behind.
Argalias ghost reproues Ferraws offence,
The Spaniard to new vow himselfe doth bind.
His mistris presence Sacrapant enioyeth,
With Bradamant Renaldo him annoyeth.
The [...]inning is [...] by imi­tation [...]n Vir­gil, [...] 1. of his [...], Arma [...] cano.
OF Dames, of Knights, of armes, of loues delight,
Of courtesies, of high at­tempts I speake,
Then whē ye Moores trans­ported all their might
On Africke seas, the force of France to breake:
Incited by the youthfull heate and spight
Of Agramant their king, that vowd to wreake
The death of King Trayana (lately slaine)
Vpon the Romane Emperour Charlemaine.
I will no lesse Orlandos acts declare,
(A tale in prose ne verse yet sung or sayd)
Who fell bestraught with loue, a hap most rare,
To one that earst was counted wise and stayd:
[...] bere­ [...] mistresse, [...] speakes [...] on the [...] staffe.
If my sweet Saint that causeth my like care,
My slender muse affoord some gracious ayd,
I make no doubt but I shall haue the skill,
As much as I haue promist to fulfill.
[...] by the [...] intended [...] Hip­ [...] by the [...] to a [...] more
Vouchsafe (O Prince of most renowmed race,
The ornament and hope of this our time)
T'accept this gift presented to your grace,
By me your seruant rudely here in rime.
And though I paper pay and inke, in place
Of deeper debt, yet take it for no crime:
It may suffise a poore and humble debter,
To lay and if he could it should be better.
Here shall you find among the worthy peeres,
Whose praises I prepare to tell in verse,
Rogero; him from whom of auncient yeeres
Your princely stems deriued, I reherses
Whose noble mind by princely acts appeeres,
Whose worthy fame euen to the skie doth perse [...]
So you vouchsafe my
Imitati [...] of V [...] gel to Octa [...]i [...]s: Atque hau [...] sin [...] tempora circum [...]nter felaces hede­tam [...]ib [...] s [...]rpere laures.
lowly stile and base,
Among your high conceits a httle plase.
Orlando who long time had
This hath refe­rence to a former treatise called Orlandos loues, written by one Boyardus.
loued deare,
Angeli [...]a the faire: and for her sake,
About the world, in nations far and neare,
Did high attempts performe and vndertake,
Retur [...]d with her into the West that yeare,
That Charles his power against the Turks did make:
And with the force of Germanie and France,
Neare Pyron
The hilles that part France and Spa [...]e.
Alpes his standard did aduance.
To make the Kings of Affrike and of Spaine,
Repent their rash attempts and foolish vaunts,
One hauing brought from As [...]ike in his traine,
All able men to carry sword or launce,
The other mou'd the Spaniards now againe
To ouerthrow the goodly Realme of Fraunce.
And hither (as I said) Orlando went,
But of his comming straight he did repent.
For here (behold how humane iudgements art,
And how the wiser sort are oft mistaken)
His Ladie whom he guarded had so farr,
Nor had in fights nor dangers great forsaken,
Without the dint of sword or open warr,
Amid his friends away from him was taken.
For Charles the great, a valiant Prince and wise,
Did this to quench a broile that did arise.
Betweene Orlando and Renaldo late,
There fell about Angelica some brall,
And each of them began the tother hate,
This Ladies loue had made them both so thrall.
But Charles who much mislikes that such debate
Betweene such friends should rise, on cause so small,
Nam [...]s D [...]ke of Ba [...]er.
To Namus of Bauier in keeping gaue her,
And suffred neither of them both to haue her.
But promist he would presently bestow
The damsell faire, on him that in that fight,
The plainest proofe should of his prowesse show,
And danger most the Pagans with his might,
But (ay the while) the Christens take the blow,
Their souldiers slaine, their Captaines put to flight,
The Duke himselfe a prisner there was taken,
His tent was quite abandond and forsaken.
Where when the damsell faire a while had stayd,
That for the victor pointed was a pray,
She tooke her horse, ne farther time delayd,
But secretly conuayd her selfe away.
For she foresaw, and was full sore afrayd,
That this to Charles would proue a dismall day.
And riding through a wood, she hapt to meet
A knight that came against her on his feet.
His curats on, his helmet not vndone,
His sword and target ready to the same,
And through the wood so swiftly he did runne,
Sim [...]le. Imitatió of Vir­gil 2. Ae [...]ead. Improussu [...] as­sirus v [...]luse qua sentibus angue.
As they that go halfe naked for a game.
But neuer did a shepheards daughter shunne
More speedily a snake that on her came,
Then faire Angelica did take her flight,
When as she once had knowledge of the knight.
This valiant knight was Lord of Clarimount,
Renaldo his horses name was Lisardo.
Duke Ammons sonne, as you shall vnderstand,
Who hauing lost his horse of good account,
That by mishap was slipt out of his hand,
He followd him, in hope againe to mount,
Vntill this Ladies sight did make him stand,
Whose face and shape proportiond were so well,
They seeme the house where loue itselfe did dwell.
But she that shuns Renaldo all she may,
Vpon her horses necke doth lay the raine,
Through thicke and thin she gallopeth away,
Ne makes she choise of beaten way or plaine,
But giues her palfrey leaue to chuse the way,
And being mou'd with feare and with disdaine,
Now vp, now downe, she neuer leaues to ride,
Till she arriued by a riuer side.
Fast by the streame Ferravv she sees anone,
Ferraw [...] nisb Knigh [...].
(Who noyd, in part with dust, and part with sweat)
Out of the battell hither came alone,
With drinke his thirst, with aire to swage his heat;
And minding backe againe to haue bene gone,
He was detaind with an vnlookt for let,
Into the streame by hap his helmet fell,
And how to get it out he cannot tell.
And hearing now the noise and mournfull crie
Of one with piteous voice demaunding ayd,
Seeing the damsell eke approching nie,
That nought but helpe against Renaldo prayd,
What wight it was, he guessed by and by,
Though looking pale, like one that had bene frayd,
And though she had not late bene in his sight,
He thought it was Angelica the bright.
And being both a stout and courteous knight,
And loue a little kindling in his brest,
He promist straight to aide her all he might,
And to performe what euer she request.
And though he want a helmet, yet to fight
With bold Renaldo he will do his best.
And both the one, the other straight defied,
Oft hauing either others value tried.
Betweene them two, a combat fierce began,
With strokes that might haue pierst ye hardest rocks.
While they thus fight on foote, and man to man,
And giue and take so hard and heauy knocks,
Away the damsell posteth all she can,
Their paine and trauell she requites with mocks.
So hard she rode while they were at their fight,
That she was cleane escaped out of sight.
When they long time contended had in vaine,
Who should remaine the maister in the field,
And that with force, with cunning, nor with paine,
The tone of them could make the other yeeld,
Renaldo first did moue the Knight of Spaine
(Although he vsd such curtesie but seeld)
To make a truce; ne was he to be blamed,
For loue his heart to other fight inflamed.
You thought (said he) to hinder me alone,
But you haue hurt your selfe as much or more.
You see the faire Angelica is gone,
So soone we leese that earst we sought so sore.
Had you me tane or slaine, your gaine were none,
Sith you were ner the nere your loue therfore.
For while we two haue made this little stay,
She lets vs both alone and go'th her way.
But if you loue the Ladie, as you say,
Then let vs both agree to find her out,
To haue her first will be our wisest way,
And when of holding her there is no doubt,
Then by consent let her remaine his pray,
That with his sword can proue himselfe most stout,
I see not else after our long debate,
How either of vs can amend his state.
Ferravv (that felt small plea [...]ure in the sight)
Agreed a lound and friendly league to make:
They lay aside all wrath aud malice quight,
And at the parting from the running lake,
The Pagan would not let the Christen knight
To follow him on foote for manners sake:
But prayes him mount behind his horses backe,
Aud so they seeke the damsell by the tracke.
O auncient knights of true and noble hart,
Riuals are those that be [...]strs to one [...], as are competitors to [...].
They [...]iuals were, one faith they liu'd not vnder,
Beside they felt their bodies shrewdly smart
Or blowes late giuen, and yet (behold a wonder)
Through thicke and thin, suspition set apart,
Like friends they ride, and parted not asunder,
Vntill the horse with double spurring driued
Vnto a way parted in two arriued.
And being neither able to descrie
Which way was gone Angelica the bright,
Because the tracke of horses feet, whereby
They seeke her out, appeare alike in sight.
They part, and either will his fortune try,
The left hand one, the other takes the right.
Ferra [...].
The Spaniard when he wandred had a while,
Came whence he went, the way did him beguile.
He was arriu'd but there, with all his paine,
Where in the foord he let his helmet fall,
And of his Ladie (whom he lou'd in vaine)
He now had litle hope, or none at all.
His helmet now he thinkes to get againe,
And seekes it out, but seeke it while he shall,
It was so deeply sunken in the sand,
He cannot get it out at any hand.
Pepler [...] a tree that groweth by the water like a Willow.
Hard by the b [...]nke a tall yong P [...]pler grew,
Which he cut downe, thereof a pole to make,
With which each place in feeling and in vew,
To find his scull he vp and downe doth rake:
But lo a hap vnlookt for doth ensew,
While he such needlesse frutelesse paine doth take;
He saw a knight arise out of the brooke,
Breast hie, with visage grim, and angry looke.
The ghost of Ar­ga [...]
The knight was arm'd at all points saue the hed,
And in his hand he held the helmet plaine,
That very helmet that such care had bred
In him that late had sought it with such paine
And looking grimly on Ferraro he sed,
Ah faithlesse wretch, in promise false and vaine,
It greeues thee now this helmet so to misse,
That should of right be rendred long ere this.
Remember (cruell Pagan) when you killed
Me, brother to Angelica the bright:
You sayd you would (as I then dying willed)
Mine armour drowne, when finisht were the fight,
Now if that fortune haue the thing fulfilled,
Which thou thyself sholdst haue performd in right,
Greeue not thy selfe, or if thou wilt be greeued,
Greeue that thy promise cannot be beleeued.
But if to want an helmet thou repine,
Get one wherewith thine honour thou maist saue,
Such hath Orlando Countie Paladine,
Renaldo such, or one perchance more braue,
That was from Almont tane, this from Manbrine:
Win one of these, that thou with praise m [...]st haue,
And a [...] for this, surcease to seeke it more,
But leaue it as thou promisd me before.
Ferra [...] was much amazd to see the sprite,
That made this strange appearance vnexpected,
His voice was gone, his haire did stand vpright,
His senses all were so to feare subiected.
His heart did swell with anger and despight,
To heare his breach of promise thus obiected,
And that Argalia (lo the knight was named)
With iust reproofe could make him thus ashamed.
And wanting time, the matter to excuse,
And being guiltie of no litle blame,
He rested mute, and in a senslesse muse,
So sore his heart was tainted with the shame.
And by Linsusas life he vowd to vse
No helmet,
This is a fit dee [...] ­rum, so to make Ferr [...]nv to swet [...] by his mothers life, which is the Spanish manner.
till such time he gat the same,
Which from the stout Almont Orlando wan,
When as they two encountred man to man.
But he this vow to keepe more firmely ment,
And kept it better then the first he had,
Away he parted hence a malcontent,
And many dayes ensuing rested sad.
To seeke Orlando out is his intent,
With whom to fight he would be very glad.
He finds Orlādo, the 12. booke in Atlantes inchā ­ted pallace, the 28. staffe.
But now what haps vnto Renaldo fell,
That tooke the other way, tis time to tell.
Not farre he walkt, but he his horse had spide.
That praunsing went before him on the way,
Holla my boy holla (Renaldo crid:)
The want of thee annoyd me much to day.
But Bayard will not let his master ride,
But takes his heeles and faster go'th away.
He finds his horse t [...]u book 77. staff
His flight much anger in Renaldo bred:
But follow we Angelica that fled.
That fled through woods and deserts all obscure,
Through places vninhabited and wast,
Ne could she yet repute her selfe secure,
But farther still she gallopeth in hast.
Each leafe that stirres in her doth feare procure,
And maketh her affrighted and agast:
Each noise she heares, each shadow she doth see,
She doth mistrust it should Renaldo be.
Like to a fawne, or kid of bearded goate,
Eimil [...].
That in the wood a tyger fierce espide,
To kill her dam, and first to teare the throate,
And then to feed vpon the haneh or side,
Both feare lest the might light on such a lot,
And seeke it selfe in thickest brackes to hide,
And thinkes each noise the wind or aire doth cause,
It selfe in danger of the tygers clawes.
That day and night she wandred here and there,
And halfe the other day that did ensue,
Vntil at last she was arriued where,
A fine yong groue with pleasant shadow grew,
Neare to the which two little riuers were,
Whose moisture did the tender herbes renew,
And make a sweete and very pleasing sound,
By running on the sand and stonie ground.
Here she at last her selfe in safetie thought,
As being from Renaldo many a mile,
Tyr'd with annoy the heate and trauell brought,
She thinkes it best with sleepe the time beguile,
And hauing first a place conuenient sought,
She lets her horse refresh his limbes the while,
Who sed vpon the bankes well cloth'd with grasse,
And dranke the riuer water cleere as glasse.
Hard by the brooke an arbor she descride,
Wherein grew faire and very fragrant floures,
With roses sweet, and other trees beside,
Wherewith the place adornes the natiue boures,
So fenced in with shades on either side,
Safe from the heate of late or early houres:
The boughes aud leaues so cunningly were mixt,
No sunne, no light, could enter them betwixt.
Within; the tender herbes a bed do make,
Inuiting folke to take their rest and ease:
Here meanes this Ladie faire a nap to take,
And fals to sleepe, the place so well doth please.
Not long she lay, but her a noise did wake,
The trampling of a horse did her disease,
And looking out as secret as she might,
To come all arm'd she saw a comely knight.
She knowes not yet if he be foe or friend,
Twixt hope and feare she doubtfully doth stand,
And what he meanes to do she doth attend,
And who it was she faine would vnderstand.
The knight did to the riuer side descend,
And resting downe his head vpon his hand,
All in a muse he sitteth still alone,
Like one transform'd into a marble stone.
He tarri'd in this muse an houre and more,
With looke cast downe in sad and heauie guise,
At last he did lament his hap so sore,
Yet in so sweete and comely mournefull wise,
So hard a heart no tyger euer bore,
But would haue heard such plaints with watrish eies.
His heart did seeme a mountaine full of flame,
His cheekes a streame of teares to quench the same.
The lamentation of Sacrap [...].
Alas (said he) what meanes this diuers passion?
I burne as fire, and yet as frost I freese,
I still lament, and yet I moue compassion,
I come too late, and all my labour leese.
I had but words and lookes for shew and fashion,
Put others get the game, and gainefull fees:
If neither fruite nor floure come to my part,
Why should her loue consume my carefull hart?
Like to the rose I count the virgine pure,
Simile. This is [...] of Catuli [...] greatly [...] V [...] flos is secretus [...] hortis, &c.
That grow'th on natiue stem in garden faire,
Which while it stands with wals enuirond sure,
Where heardmen with their heards cannot repaire
To fauor it, it seemeth to allure
The morning deaw, the heate, the earth, the aire.
Yong gallant men, and louely dames delight
In their sweet sent, and in their pleasing sight.
But when at once tis gathered and gone,
From proper stalke, where late before it grew,
The loue, the liking little is or none,
Both fauour, grace and beautie all adew.
So when a virgin grants to one alone
The precious floure for which so many sew,
Well he that getteth it may loue her best,
But she forgoes the loue of all the rest.
She may deserue his loue, but others hate,
To whom of loue she shewd her selfe so scant.
(Oh then my cruell fortune or my fate)
Others haue store, but I am staru'd with want:
Then leaue to loue this ladie so vngrate:
Nay hue to loue (behold I soone recant)
Yea first let life from these my limbs be rent,
Ere 1 to change my loue shall giue consent.
If some perhaps desirous are to know,
What wight it was with sorow so opprest,
Twas Sacrapant that was afflicted so,
And loue had bred this torment in his brest:
That trickling wound, that flattring cruell foe,
Most happie they that know and haue it least.
The loue of her I say procur'd his woe,
And she had heard and knew it long ago.
Her loue allur'd him from the Ester land,
Vnto the Westerne shores, where sets the Sunne,
And here he heard how by Orlandos hand,
A passage safe from th'Indies she had wonne.
Her sequestration he did vnderstand,
That Charles had made, and how the same was done
To make the knights more venterous and bold,
In fighting for the Floure de luce of gold.
The flour de [...] taken for Fi [...] it selfe, be [...] armes of Fi [...]
And furthermore himselfe had present bene
When Charles his men were ouerthrowne and slaine.
Since then, he traueld farre to find this Queene,
But hitherto it hath bene all in vaine.
Now much despaire, and little hope betweene,
So rufully thereof he doth complaine,
And with such wailing words his woes rehearst,
As might the hardest stonie heart haue pearst.
And while in this most dolefull state he bides,
And sighes full oft, and sheddeth many a teare,
And speakes these same, and many words besides,
(Which I to tell for want of time forbeare)
His noble fortune so for him prouides,
That all this came vnto his mistresse eare,
And in one moment he preuailed more
Then he had done in many yeares before.
Angelica with great attention hard,
The m [...]i [...]e, and plaint, that him tormented sore,
Who long had loued her, with great regard,
As she had triall, many yeares before,
Yet as a marble pilla [...] cold and hard,
She not incline, to pittie him the more.
Like one that all the world doth much disdaine,
And deemeth none worthie her loue againe.
But being now with danger compast round,
She thought it best to take him for her guide.
For one that were in water almost drownd,
Were verie stout, if for no helpe he cryde:
If [...]he let passe the fortune now she found,
She thinkes to want the like another tyde.
And furthermore for certaine this she knew,
That Sacrapant had beene her louer true.
Ne meant she tho to quench the raging fires,
That ay consum'd his faithfull louing heart,
Ne yet with that a louer most desires,
T a [...]lwage the paine in all, or yet in part:
She meanes he first shall pull her from the briers,
And feed him then with words and womens art,
To make him first of all to serue her turne,
That doue, to wonted coynesse to returne.
Vnto the riuer side she doth descend,
And toward him most goddesse like she came,
This is the phrase of the cast coun­trie people: peace be to you.
And [...]id, all peace to thee my dearest frend,
With modest looke, and cald him by his name,
And further said, the Gods and you defend
My chastitie, mine honor and my fame.
And neuer grant by their diuine permission,
Such; [...] respect of his [...] that he discoue­red afore. Simile.
That I giue cause of any such suspicion.
With how great ioy a mothers minde is fild,
To see a sonne, for whom she long had mourned,
Whom she hard late in battell to be kild,
And saw the troopes without him home returned,
Such ioy had Sacrapant when he behild,
His Ladie deere: his teares to smiles are turned,
To see her beautie rare, her comely fauour,
Her princely presence, and her stately hanour.
Like one all rauisht with her heauenly face,
Vnto his loued Ladie he doth runne,
Who was content in armes him to embrace,
Which she perhaps at home wold not haue done,
But doubting now the dangerous time and place,
She must go forward as she hath begun,
In hope by his good seruice and assistance,
To make her home returne without resistance.
And in most lou'ly manner she doth tell,
The strange aduentures, and the diuers chance,
That since they two did part to her be [...]ell.
Both on the way, and since she came to France:
And how Orlando vsed her right well,
Defending her from danger and mischance,
And that his noble force and magnammine,
Had still preseru'd the floure of her virginitie.
It might be true, but sure it was incredible,
To tell to one that were discreet and wise,
But vnto Sacrapant it seemed poss [...]ble,
Because that loue had dasled to his eyes:
Loue causeth that we see to seeme inui [...]ible,
And makes of things not seene, a shape to rise.
It is a prouerbe vsed long ago,
S [...]ntence.
We soone beleeue the thing we would haue so.
But to himselfe thus Sacrapant doth say,
B'it that my Lord of An [...]la [...]t were so mad,
Orlando was Lord of Anglant
To take no pleasure of so faire a pray,
When he both time and place, and power had,
Yet am not I obliged any way,
To in [...]tate a president so bad.
Ile rather take my pleasure while I may,
Then waile my want of wit another day.
Ouid. vim licet appelles. grata est vis illa puellu, quod tuuas in­uita, sape dedisse toiu [...].t.
Ile gather now the fresh and fragrant rose,
Whole beautie may with standing still be spent,
One cannot do a thing (as I suppose)
That better can a womans minde content:
Well may they seeme much grieued for a glose,
And weepe and waile, and dolefully lament,
There shall no foolish plaints, nor fained ire,
Hinder me to encarnat my desire.
This said, forthwith he did himselfe prepare,
T'assault the fort that easly would be wonne,
But loe a sodaine hap that bred new care,
And made him cease his enterprise begonne,
For of an enemie he was aware,
He claspt his helmet late before vndone,
And armed all, he mounteth one his best
And standeth readie with his speare in rest.
Behold a warrior whom he did not know,
Came downe the wood in semblance like a knight,
The furniture was all as white as snow,
And in the helme a plume of fethers white.
King Sacrapant by proofe doth plainely show,
That he doth take the thing in great despite,
To be disturbd and hindred from that pleasure,
That he preferd before each other treasure.
Approching nie, the warrior he defide,
And hopes to set him quite beside the seat:
The other with such loftie words replide,
As persons vse, in choler and in heat.
At last when glorious vaunts were laid aside,
They come to strokes and each to do his feat,
Doth couch his speare, and running thus they sped,
Their coursets both encountred hed to hed.
As Lions meete,
or Buls in pastures greene,
With teeth & hornes, & staine with bloud the field,
Such eger fight these warriers was betweene.
And eithers speare had pearst the tothers sheild,
The sound that of these strokes had raised beene,
An eccho lowd along the vale did yeeld.
T'was happie that their curats were so good,
The Lances else had pierced to the blood.
For quite vnable now about to wheele,
Simile 7 [...]ke is in Da 1 of goats.
They butt like rammes, the one the others head,
Whereof the Pagans horse such paine did feele,
That ere long space had past he fell downe dead.
The tothers horse a little gan to reele,
But being spurd, fall quickly vp he sped.
The Pagans horse thus ouerthrowne and slaine,
F [...]ll backward greatly to his masters paine,
That vnknowne champion seeing thother downe,
His horse vpon him lying dead in vew,
Exspecting in this fight no more renowne,
Determind not the battell to renew.
But by the way that leadeth from the towne,
The first appointed iourney doth pursew,
And was now ridden halfe a mile at least,
Before the Pagan parted from his beast.
Simile. The hbe u in O u [...]d de tre [...]ts us 3 Fle. H [...]ud a. [...]t [...]r [...]lu [...]; u [...] quato qus Iouu igni [...]s actus v [...]u [...]t [...] est vita [...]es [...]us [...]ps [...] su [...].
Like as the tiller of the fruitfull ground,
With sodaine storme and tempest is astonished
Who sees the flash, & heares the thunders sound,
And for their masters sakes, the cattell punished,
Or when by hap a faire old pine he found,
By force of raging winds his leaues diminished.
So stood amazd the Pagan in the place,
His Ladie present at the wofull case.
He fetcht a sigh most deepely from his heart,
Not that he had put out of ioynt, or lamed
His arme, his legge, or any other part,
But chiefly he, his euill fortune blamed,
At such a time, to hap lo ouerthwart,
Before his loue, to make him so ashamed:
And had not she some cause of speech found out,
He had remained speechlesse out of doubt.
My Lord (said she) what ailes you be so sad?
The want was not in you, but in your steed,
For whom a stable, or a pasture had
Beene fitter then a course at tilt indeed.
Nor is that aduerse partie verie glad,
As well appeares, that parted with such speed,
For in my iudgement they be said to yeeld,
That first leaue off, and do depart the feeld.
Thus while she giues him comfort all she may,
Behold there came a messenger in post,
Blowing his horne, and riding downe the way,
Where he before his horse, and honor lost.
And comming nearer he of them doth pray,
To tell if they had seene passe by that cost,
A champion armd at all points like a knight,
The shield, the horse, and armour all of white.
I haue both seene the knight, and felt his force,
(Said Sacrapant) for here before you came,
He cast me downe and also kild my horse,
Ne know I (that doth greeue me most) his name.
Sir (quoth the post) the name I will not force,
To tell, sith you desire to know the same,
First, know that you were conquerd in this fight,
By vallew of a damsell faire and bright.
Of passing strength, but of more passing hew,
And Bradamant, this damsell faire is named,
She was the wight, whose meeting you may rew,
And all your life hereafter be ashamed.
This post [...] taketh Bi [...] Bookes [...]
This laid, he turnd his horse and bad adew.
But Sacrapant with high disdaine enflamed,
Was first lo wroth, and then so shamed thereto,
He knew not what to say, not what to do.
And after he had staid a while and musd,
That at a womans hands he had receiued,
Such a disgrace as could not be excusd,
Nor how he might reuenge it he perceiued,
With thought hereof his mind was so confusd,
He stood like one of wit and sense bereaued.
At last he go'th, a better place to finde,
He takes her horse and makes her mount behind.
Now hauing rode a mile, or there about,
They heard a noyse a trampling on the ground,
They thought it was some companie or rout,
That caused in the woods so great a sound:
Bayardo [...] to Bucep [...] that he in suffer no [...] quietly [...] master.
At last they see a warlike horse, and stout,
With guilded barb, that cost full many a pound,
No hedge, no ditch, no wood no water was,
That stopped him where he was bent to passe.
Angelica casting her eye aside:
Except (said she) mine eies all dazled be,
I haue that famous horse Bayardo spide,
Come trotting downe the wood, as seemes to me:
(How well for vs our fortune doth prouide)
It is the verie same, I know tis he:
On one poore nag to ride we two were loth,
And here he commeth fit to serue vs both.
King Sacrapant alighteth by and by,
And thinkes to take him gently by the raine,
But with his heeles the horse doth streight reply,
As who should say, his rule he did disdaine.
It happie was he stood the beast not nye,
For if he had, it had beene to his paine,
For why, such force the horse had in his heele,
He would haue burst a mountaine all of steele.
But to the damsell gently he doth go,
In humble manner, and in lowly sort.
A spantell after absence fauneth so,
And seekes to make his master play, and sport,
For Bayard cald to mind the damsell tho,
Albracca [...] in the [...] table.
When she vnto Albracco did resort,
And vsd to feed him for his masters sake,
Whom she then lou'd, and he did her forsake.
She takes the bridle boldly in her hand,
And strokt his brest, and necke, with art and skill:
The horse that had great wit to vnderstand,
Like to a lambe, by her he standeth still,
And while Bayardo gently there did stand,
The Pagan got him vp, and had his will.
And she that erst to ride behind was faine,
Into her saddle mounted now againe.
And being newly setled in her seate,
She saw a man on foote all armed runne,
Straight in her mind she ga [...] to chase and fret,
Because she knew it was Duke Ammons sonne,
Most earnestly he sude her loue to get,
More earnestly she seekes his loue to shunne.
Once she lou'd him, he hated her as much,
And now he loues, she hates, his hap was such.
[...]id 1. [...] to be true [...] of [...] [...]ope. [...].
The cause of this first from two fountaines grew,
Like in the tast, but in effects vnlike,
Plac'd in Ardenna, each in others vew,
Who tasts the one, loues dart his heart doth strike,
Contrary of the other doth ensew,
Who drinke thereof, their louers shall mislike.
Renaldo dranke of one, and loue much pained him,
The other dranke this damsell that disdained him.
This liquor thus with secret venim mingled,
Makes her to stand so stiffely in the nay,
On whom Renaldos heart was wholy kindled,
Though scarce to looke on him she can away,
But from his sight desiring to be singled,
With soft low voice the Pagan she doth pray,
That he approch no nearer to this knight,
But flie away with all the speed he might.
Why then (quoth he) make you so small esteeme
Of me, as though that I to him should yeeld?
So weake and faint my forces do you deeme,
That safe from him your selfe I cannot shield
Then you forget Albracca it should seeme,
And that same night, when I amid the field,
Alone vnarmed did defend you then,
Against king Agrican and all his men.
No sir, said she, (ne knowes she what to say)
Because Renaldo now approcht so nie,
And threatned so the Pagan in the way,
When vnder him his horse he did espie,
And saw the damsell taken as a pray,
In whose defence he meanes to liue and die.
But what fell out betweene these warriers fearce,
Within the second booke I do rehearse.

In this first booke may be noted in Angelica the vngratefulnes of women to their worthiest suters.The Morall. In the foure knights, the passionate affections of loue and fancy. And whereas first Bradamant, and after Renaldo interrupt Sacrapant of his lasciuious purpose, may be noted, both the weake holdfast that men haue of worldly pleasures, as also how the heauens do euer fauour chast desires. Lastly, in the two fountaines may be noted the two notable contrarieties of the two affections, of loue and disdaine, that infinite sorts of people daily tast of, while they runne wandring in that inextricable labyrinth of loue.

Concerning the historie,The Historie. we find that in the time of Charles the great (called Charlemaine) sonne of Pepin king of France, the Turkes with a great power inuaded Christendome, Spaine being then out of the faith, (as some part thereof was euen within these four score yeares, namely Granada, which was held by the Moores.) And one Marcus Antonius Sabellicus writeth, that for certaintie there liued in that time of Charlemaine, many of those famous Palladines, that are in this worke so often named, and especially he maketh mention of Renaldo and Orlando, affirming that they were indeed very martiall men, and how Charles obtained great victories by their seruice; and namely he talleth of one Fer­raw a Spaniard of great stature and strength, who tooke certaine Frenchmen prisoners, afterward rescued by Orlando, which Orlando fought with him hand to hand two whole dayes, and the second vanquisht him. Further, the same author affirmeth, that the same Charlemaine, for his great fauour shewed to the Church of Rome, was by Leo the third named Emperour of Rome: and that he was a iust, a fortunate, and a mercifull Prince, and one that within Europe as well as without did attaine great conquests, suppressing the violent gouernement of the Lombards, and taming the rebelli­ous Saxons, Huns and Baudrians, and conquering a great part of Spaine: all which testimonies shew, that the ground of this Poeme is true, as I shall haue particular occasion in sundry of the books ensuing to note: and thus much for the story.

For the allegory,Allegorie. in this Canto I find not much to be said, except one should be so curious to search for an allegory where none is intended by the author himself: yet an allegory may not vnfitly be gathered of the description of Bayardos follow­ing Angelica, which may thus be taken. Bayardo a strong horse, without rider or gouernor, is likened to the desire of mā, that runs furiously after Angelica, as it were after pleasure or honor, or whatsoeuer man doth most inordinately affect.

Likewise in that Angelica flieth from Renaldo, we may take an allegorical instruction, that the temtations of the flesh are ouercome, chiefly by flying from them, as the Scripture it selfe teacheth, saying, Resist the diuel, but fly fornication.

Further, in that Bayardo striketh at Sacrapant, but yeeldeth to Angelica, it may be noted how the courage of our minds that cannot be abated with any force, are often subdued by flatterie and gentle vsage, till they be in the end euen ridden as it were with slauerie.

And whereas Renaldo followes Angelica on foote, some haue noted thereby to be meant sensualitie, that is euer in base and earthly, or rather beastly affections, neuer looking vpward.

For Allusions,Allusion. there are not any worth the noting in this Canto, saue that it seemes in Renaldos horse Bayardo, he seemes to allude to Buccphalus Alexanders horse.



A Frire betweene two riuals parts the fray,
By magicke art: Renaldo hasteth home,
But in embassage he is sent away,
When tempest makes the sea to rage and fome.
Bradamant seekes her spouse, but by the way,
While she about the country wyld did rome,
Met Pinnabel, who by a craftie traine;
Both sought, and thought the Ladie to haue slaine.
O Blind god Loue, why takst thou such delight,
[...] first [...] some­time [...] have some [...] mo­rall or [...] to the imper [...]ens to the [...] in [...].
With darts of diuers force our hearts to wound?
By thy too much abusing of thy might,
This discord great in hu­mane hearts is found.
When I would wade the shallow foord aright.
Thou draw'st me to the deepe to haue me dround,
From those loue me, my loue thou dost recall,
And place it where I find no loue at all.
Thou mak'st most faire vnto Renaldo seeme
Angelica, that takes him for a foe,
And when that she of him did well esteeme,
Then he dislikt, and did refuse her thoe.
Which makes her now of him the lesse to deeme,
Thus (as they say) the renders quit pro quo.
She hateth him, and doth detest him so,
She first will die, ere she will with him go.
Renaldo (full of stately courage) cride,
Downe theese from of my horse, downe by and by,
So robd to be I neuer can abide,
But they that do it dearely shall abye,
The [...] on [...] to [...]
Also this Ladie you must leaue beside,
Else one of vs in her defence will dye.
A horse so good, and such a goodly dame,
To leaue vnto a theefe it were a shame.
What' me a theefe? thou in thy throat dost lye
(Quoth Sacrapant, that was as hot as he)
Theefe to thy selfe, thy malice I defie,
For as I heare, the name is due to thee:
But if thou dare thy might and manhood trie,
Come take this Ladie, or this hoise from me.
Though I allow in this of thine opinion,
That of the world she is the matchlesse minion.
Like as two mastiue dogges with hungrie mawes,
Mou'd first to hate,
Sti [...]
from hate to raging ire,
Approch with grinning teeth, and griefly iaws,
With staring eyes, as red as flaming fire,
At last they bite, and scratch with teeth and claws,
And teare themselues, and tumble in the mire.
So after byting and reprochfull words,
Did these two worthy warriets draw their swords.
One was on foote, the tother was one horse,
You thinke perhaps, the horseman vantage had,
No sure no whit; he would haue wisht to sko [...]ce;
For why at last to light he must be glad,
The beast did know thus much by natures force,
To hurt his master were a seruice bad.
The pagan could not nor with spur nor hand,
Make him vnto his mind to go or stand,
He stops, when he should make a full carite,
He runnes or trots, when he would haue him rest,
At last to throw his rider in the n [...]ite,
He plungeth with his head beneath his breast.
But Sacrapant that now had small desire,
At such a time, to tame so proud a beast,
Did worke so well at last by sleight and force,
On his left side, he lighted from his horse.
When from Bayardos ouer furious might,
The Pagan had himselfe discharged so,
With naked swords there was a noble fight,
Sometimes they lye aloft, sometimes aloe,
And from their blowes the fire flies out in sight:
I thinke that Vulcans hammers beat more slow,
Where he within the mountaine Aetnas chaps,
Doth forge for loue, the fearfull thunderclaps.
A description of a cobat between two [...]rghes skilfull [...]the [...]r wea­pon.
Sometimes they profer, then they pause a while,
Sometime strike out, like maisters of the play,
Now stand vpright, now stoup another while,
Now open lye, then couer all they may.
Now ward, then with a slip the blow beguile:
Now forward step, now backe a little way:
Now round about, and where the tone giues place,
There still the other presleth in his place.
Renaldo did the Pagan Prince inuade,
And strike at once with all the might he cowd,
The other doth oppose against the blade,
A shield of bone and steele of temper good.
But through the same a way Fusberta made,
[...]oberta was Renaldos sword.
And of the blow re [...]ounded all the wood:
The steele, the bone like yse in peeces broke,
And left his arme benummed with the stroke.
Which when the faire and fearfull damsell saw,
And how great domage did ensue thereby,
She looked pale, for anguish and for aw,
Like those by doome that are condemnd to dye:
She thinks it best her selfe from hence withdraw,
Else will Renaldo take her by and by,
The same Renaldo whom she hateth so,
Though loue of her procured all his wo.
Vnto the wood she turnes her horse in hast,
And takes a little narrow path and blind;
Her fearefull looks ofttimes she backe doth cast,
Still doubting lest Renaldo came behind:
And when that she a little way had past,
Alow the vale a Hermit she did find:
A weake old man, with beard along his brest,
In shew deuout, and holier then the rest.
An [...]ha [...] [...], or rather [...] who [...] person he [...].
He seemd like one with fasts and age consumed,
He rode vpon a slouthfull going asle.
And by his looke, a man would haue presumed,
That of his conscience scrupulous he was.
Yet her young face, his old sight so illumed,
When as he saw the damsell by to pasle:
(Though weake and faint, as such an age behoued?)
That charitie his courage somewhat moued.
The damsell of the Hermit askt the way,
That might vnto some hav'n town lead most neare,
That she might part from France with out delay,
Where once Renaldos name she might not heare.
The frier that could enchaunt, doth all he may,
To comfort her, and make her of good cheare,
And to her safetie promising to looke;
Out of his bag forthwith he drew a booke.
A booke of skill and learning so profound, [...]
That of a leafe he had not made an end,
But that there rose a sprite from vnder ground,
Whom like a page he doth of arrants send.
This sprite by words of secret vertue bound,
Goes where these knights their combat did intend:
And while they two were fighting verie hard,
He enters them betweene without regard.
Good sirs (quoth he) for courtsie sake me show,
When one of you the tother shall haue slaine,
And after all the trauell you bestow,
What guerdon you expect for all your paine,
Behold, Orlando striking nere a blow,
This [...] away.
Not breaking staffe, while you striue here in vaine,
To Paris ward the Ladie faire doth carie,
While you on fighting vndiscreetly tarie.
I saw from hence a mile, or thereabout,
Orlando with Angelica alone,
And as for you, they iest and make a flout,
That fight where praise and profit can be none.
Twer best you quickly went to seeke them out,
Before that any farther they be gone;
Within the walls of Paris if they get,
Your eye on her againe you shall not set.
When as the knights this message had receiued,
They both remaind amazed, dumbe and sad,
To [...]eare Orlando had them so deceiued,
Of whom before great iealosie they had;
But good Renaldo so great griefe conceiued,
That for the time, like one all raging mad,
He sware without regard of God or man,
That he will kill Orlando if he can.
And seeing where his horse stood still vntide,
He thither goes: such hast he make [...] away,
He offers not the Pagan leaue to ride,
Nor at the par [...]ng once adieu doth say.
Now Bayard felt his maisters spurres in side,
And gallops maine, ne maketh any stay
No riuers, rocks, no h [...]dge, nor ditches wide,
Could stay his course, or make him step aside.
Nor maruell if Renaldo made some hast,
To mount againe vpon his horses backe.
You heard before how many dayes had past,
That by his absence he had felt great lacke.
Bayard [...]i [...]
The horse (that had of humane wit some tast,)
Ran not away for any iadish knacke,
His going onely was to this intent,
To guide his master where the Ladie went.
The horse had spide her when she tooke her flight,
First from the tent, as he thereby did stand,
And followd her, and kept her long in fight,
The B [...] [...] on a [...] who [...] [...] depe [...]
As then by hap out of his master hand.
(His master did not long before alight,
To combat with a *Baron hand to hand).
The horse pursude the damsell all about,
And holpe his master still to find her out.
He followd her through valley, hill and plaine,
Through woods and thickets for his masters sake,
Whom he permitted not to touch the raine,
For feare lest he some other way should take,
By which Renaldo though with mickle paine
[...] in [...] book [...].
Twise found her out, twise she did him forsake:
For first Ferraw, then Sacrapant withstood,
That by twise finding her he did no good.
Bayardo trusting to the lying sprite,
Whose false (but likely) tale so late he hard,
And doubting not it was both true and right,
He doth his dutie now with due regard.
Renaldo prickt with loue and raging spite,
Doth pricke apace, and all to Paris ward,
To Paris ward he maketh so great shift,
The wind it selfe seemes not to go to swift.
Such hast he made Orlando out to find,
That scant he ceast to trauell all the night,
So deeply stacke the storie in his mind,
That was of late deuised by the sprite:
Betimes and late as first he had assignd,
He rode vntill he saw the towne insight:
Where Charles whose chance all christned hearts did rew,
With the small relikes of his powre withdrew.
And for he lookes to be assaulted then,
Or else besieg'd, he vseth all his care,
To store himselfe with victuall and with men.
The walls eke of the towne he doth repare,
And take aduice, both how, and where, and when,
For his defence each thing he may prepare,
An armie new to make he doth intend,
And for new souldiers into England send.
He minds to take the field againe ere long,
And trie the hap of warre another day,
And all in hast to make himselfe more strong,
He sends Renaldo Englands ayd to pray.
Renaldo thought the Emperour did him wrong,
To send him in such hast, and grant no stay.
Not that ill will to th'lland he did carie,
But for another cause he faine would tarie.
Yet now although full sore against his mind,
As loth to leaue the Ladie he so loued,
Whom he in Paris hoped had to find,
Because t'obey his Prince it him behoued,
He taketh this embassage thus assignd,
And hauing straight all other lets remoued,
He posted first to Callis with great hast,
And there embarkt ere halfe next day was past.
Against the mariners and masters minds,
(Such hast he made to haue returned backe)
He takes the sea though swelling with great winds,
And threatning ruine manifest and wracke.
Fierce Boreas that himself despised finds,
Doth beate on seas with tempest foule and blacke,
By force whereof the waues were raisd so hie,
The very tops were sprinkled all thereby.
The mariners take in their greater saile,
And by the wind they lie, but all in vaine,
Then backe againe they bend without auaile,
Now they are out, they cannot in againe.
No (said the wind) my force shall so preuaile,
He makes the wind to speake [...] by a figure called [...]rosopop [...]a.
Your bold attempts shall put you to some paine.
It was a folly any more to striue,
Needs must they follow as the wind did driue.
In the foreship sometimes the blast doth blow,
Straight in the poope, the seas breake to the skies.
Needs must they beare a saile, though very low,
To void the waues that higher still did ri [...]e:
But sith my web so diuerse now doth grow,
To weaue with many threds I must deuise,
I leaue Renaldo in this dangerous place,
He comes to hi [...] againe. 4. book [...] staffe 21.
And of his sister speake a little space.
I meane the noble damsell Bradamant,
Bradamant [...] he left in the first booke, staffe [...].
Of Ammon daughter, and dame Beatrice,
In whose rare mind no noble part did want,
So full of value, and so void of vice,
King Charls and France of her might rightly vaunt [...]punc;
So chast, so faire, so faithfull and so wise,
And in the feates of armes of so great fame,
A man might guesse by that of whence she came.
There was a Knight enamourd on this dame,
That out of Affricke came with Agramant,
Rogero hight, so was his fathers name,
(His mother was the child of Agolant)
Looke in the In­dex of names of the story of Ago­lant and Rogeros mother named Ga [...]i [...]c [...]lla.
The damsell that of worthy linage came,
And had a heart not made of adamant,
Disdained not the loue of such a knight,
Although he had but seeld bene in her sight.
Long trauell and great paine she had endured,
And rid alone her louer to haue found,
Ne would she thinke her safetie more assured,
If with an armie she were garded round.
You heard before how she by force procured
King Sacrapant to fall and kisse the ground,
The wood she past, and after that the mountaine,
Vntill at last she saw a goodly fountaine.
A goodly fountaine running in a field,
All full of trees, whose leaues do neuer fade,
The la [...]rell, the yeugh and the holily be euer green [...].
Which did to passengers great pleasure yeeld,
The running streame so sweete a murmur made,
Vpon the South, a hill the Sunne did shield,
The ground gaue floures, ye groues a grateful shade:
Now here the dame casting her eye aside,
A man at armes fast by the brooke descride.
A man at armes she spied by the brooke,
Whose banks with flowres of diuers hew were clad,
Pinnabel son of Anselmus Earl [...] of Maganza.
Of which sweet place he so small pleasure tooke,
His face did shew his heart was nothing glad,
His targe and helmet were not farre to looke,
Vpon a tree where tide his horse he had:
His eyes were swolne with tears, his mind oppressed,
With bitter thoughts that had his heart distresled.
The damsell faire entic'd by deepe desire,
That all (but chiefly women) haue to know,
Atlāta vn le to Rogero a great Necromancer, who did worke this by enchance­ment.
All strangers states, doth earnestly require
The dolefull knight his inward griefe to show.
Who marking well her manner and attire,
Her courteous speech with him preuailed so,
He te's his state, esteeming by the sight,
That needs she must haue bene some noble knight.
Good sir (said he) you first must vnderstand,
I serued Charles against the king of Spaine,
I horsemen had and footmen in my band,
In ambush plac'd the Spanish king t'haue slaine:
I brought the fairest Ladie in this land,
And my best loued with me in my traine,
When sodainly ere I thereof was ware,
There came a horseman that procur'd my care.
Perhap a man, of some infernall sprite,
In humane shape, I cannot certaine say,
But this I say, he tooke the damsel [...] bright,
Euen as a faulcon seaseth on his pray,
So he my louing Ladie did affright,
And so affrighted bare her quite away.
And when I thought to rescue her by force,
Aloft in aire he mounted with his horse.
Euen as a rau'nous kite that doth espie
A little chicken wandring from the other,
Doth catch him straight, and carries him on hie,
That now repents he was not with his mother.
What could I do? my horse wants wings to flie,
Scant could he set one leg before the tother,
He traueld had before so many dayes,
Among the painfull hils and stonie wayes.
But like to one that were his wit beside,
I leaue my men to do my first intent,
Not caring of my selfe what should betide,
(So strongly to my fancie was I bent)
And took the blind god Cupid for my guide,
By way [...]s as blind to seeke my loue I went.
And though my sense, my guide, my way were blind,
Yet on I go in hope my loue to find.
A senight space abating but a day,
About the woods and mountaines I did range,
In sauage deserts wilde and void of way,
Where humane steps were rare and very strange.
Fast by the desert place a plaine there lay,
That shewed from the rest but little change,
Saue onely that a castle full of wonder
A [...]lantes castle made by enchāt­ment.
Did stand in rockes that had bene clou'n asunder.
This castle shines like flaming fire a farre,
Not made of lime and stone as ours are here:
And still as I approcht a little narre,
So they write that [...] armor was tem­pered to make it [...]npenetrabl [...].
More wonderfull the building doth appeare.
It is a fort impregnable by warre.
Compacted all of mettall shining cleare.
The fiends of hell this fort of steele did make,
And mettall tempred in the * Stigian lake.
The towres are all of steele, and polisht bright,
There is on them no spot or any rust,
It shines by day, by darke it giueth light,
Here dwels this robber wicked and vniust,
And what he gets against all lawes and right,
The lawlesse wretch abuseth here by lust,
And here he keepes my faire and faithfull louer,
Without all hope that I may her recouer.
Ah wo was me, in vaine I sought to helpe,
I see the place that keepes that I loue best,
Euen as a foxe that crying heares her whelpe,
Now borne aloft into the Eagles nest,
About the tree she goes, and faine would helpe,
But is constraind for want of wings to rest.
The rocke so steepe, the castle is so hie,
None can get in except they learne to flie.
And as I tarri'd in the plaine, behold
I saw two knights come riding downe the plaine,
Led by desire and hope to win this hold,
But their desire and hope was all in vaine.
Gradasso was the first of courage bold,
Grad [...]
A king of Serican that held the raine.
Rogero next,
Roger [...]
a man of noble nation,
Of yeares but yong, but of great estimation.
A little dwarfe they had to be their guide,
Who told me that they came to trie their force
Against the champion that doth vse to ride
Out of this castle on the winged horse.
Which when I heard, to them for helpe I cride,
And prayd them of my case to take remorse,
And that they would, if twere their chance to win,
Set free my loue that there was locked in.
And all my griefe to them I did vnfold,
Affirming with my teares my tale too true:
No sooner I my heauy hap had told,
But they were come within the castles vew,
I stood aloofe the battell to behold,
And praid to God good fortune might ensue.
Beneath the castle lies a little plaine,
Exceeding not an arrow shoote or twaine.
And as they talkt who first should fight or last,
They were arriued to the castle hill,
At length Gradasso (whether lots were cast,
Or that Rogero yeelded to his will)
Doth take his horne, and blew therewith a blast,
The noise whereof the castle wals did fill.
And straight with greater speed then can be guest,
Came out the rider of the flying beast.
And as we see strange cranes are wont to do,
Strange because of [...] is a [...] that g [...] sea. They [...] triangle, [...]nie wr [...] Mag [...] [...]gician.
First stalke a while, ere they their wings can find,
Then soare from ground not past a yard or two,
Till in their wings they gatherd haue the wind,
At last they mount the very clouds vnto,
Triangle wise, according to their kind:
So by degrees this Mage begins to flie,
The bird of Ioue can hardly mount so hie.
And when he sees his time, and thinkes it best,
He talleth downe like lead in fearefull guise,
Euen as the faulcon doth the fowle arrest,
The d [...]cke and mallard from the brooke that rise,
So he descending with his speare in rest,
Doth pierce the a [...]re in strange and monstrous wise,
And ere Gradasso were thereof admonished,
He felt a stripe that made him halfe astonished.
The Mage vpon Gradasso brake his speare,
Who strikes in vaine vpon the aire and wind,
Away he flue without or hurt or feare,
And leaue Gradasso many a pace behind.
This fierce encounter was so hard to beare,
Alfana the [...]are Gradasso rode [...], hauing vow­d neuer to rule [...]orse til [...]e could [...]et Bayard Re­ [...]alados horse.
That good Alfana to the ground inclind,
This same Alfana was Gradassos mare,
The fairst and best that euer saddle bare.
Aloft the starres the sorc'rer doth ascend,
And wheeles about, and downe he comes againe,
And on Rogero he his force doth bend,
That had compassion on Gradassos paine:
So sore th'assault Rogero did offend,
His horse the force thereof could not sustaine,
And when to strike againe he made account,
He saw his foe vp to the clouds to mount.
Sometimes the Mage Rogero doth assaile,
Straightway Gradasso he doth set vpon,
And oft they strike againe without auaile,
So quickly he at whom they strike is gone,
He winds about as ships do vnder saile,
His sailes are wings, and rest he giues them none,
But sets vpon them in so sudden wise,
That he amazd and dazeld both their eyes.
Betweene this one aloft, and two alow,
This conflict did no little space endure,
Vntill at last the night began to grow,
With mistie clouds making the world obscure:
I saw this fight,
Many [...] wise [...]word are readier [...]o beleue strange [...]eports of cred [...]ble [...]ersons then the [...]olish.
the truth thereof I know,
I present was there at, yet am I sure,
That very few (except the wiser sort)
Will credence giue to such a strange report.
This heauenly hellish warriour bare a shield
On his left arme that had a silken case,
I cannot any cause or reason yeeld,
Why he would keepe it couerd so long space:
It had such force, that who so it beheld.
Such shining light it striketh in their face,
That downe they fall with eyes and senses closed,
And leaue their corps of him to be disposed.
The target like the carbuncle doth shine,
Of this [...] The [...] head
Such light was neuer seene with mortall eye,
It makes to ground the lookers on decline,
Be they farre off, or be they standing nie:
And as it closed their sight it closed mine,
That [...] a trance no little space was I.
At last when I awakt and rose againe,
The aire was darke, and voided was the plaine.
The sorcerer hath tane them (I surmise)
Into his castle, as is likely most,
And by this light that dazeld all our eie [...],
My hope is gone, their libertie is lost:
This is the truth, n [...] do I ought deuise,
You heare the same, I felt it to my cost,
Now iudge if I haue reason to complaine,
That haue and do endure such endlesse paine.
When as this Knight his dolefull tale had done,
He sate him downe all chearlesse in the place,
This was the Earle Pinnabel Anselmus sonne,
Borne in Maganza of that wicked race,
Who like the rest so lewd a course did runne,
He holpe the more his linage to deface:
For onely vertue noblenesse doth dignifie,
V [...]rt [...]s vera no­bi [...].
And vicious life a linage base doth signifie.
The Ladie faire attentiue all this while,
Doth hearken vnto this Maganz [...]ses tale,
Rogeros name sometime doth make her smile,
Sometime againe for feare she looketh pale:
But hearing how a sorcerer base and vile,
Should in a castle so detaine him thrall,
She pitied him, and in her mind she treated,
And oft desir'd to heare the tale repeated.
When at the last the whole she vnderstood,
She said, sir Knight mourne not, but take some plea­sure,
Perhaps our meeting may be to your good,
And turne your enemie vnto displeasure:
Shew me this fort, for why it freats my blood,
So foule a prison holds so faire a treasure.
And if good fortune fauour mine intent,
You will right well suppose your trauell spent.
Ah (said the Knight) should I returne againe,
To passe these mountaines hard and ouertwha [...]t?
Though for my selfe it is but little paine,
To toile my bodie hauing lost my hart:
For you to go where as you may be slaine,
Or taken prisner were a foolish pa [...]t:
Which if it hap, yet me you cannot blame,
Because I giue you warning of the same.
This said he riseth vp his horse to take,
The noble Ladie on the way to guide,
Who meanes to venter for Rogeros sake.
Or death or thraldome, or what ere betide.
But loe a messenger great hast doth make,
That comes behind, and (tarry ho) he cride,
This was the post that told to Sacra [...]ant,
How she that foyld him was Dame Bradamant.
1. Book. staff. 70.
This messenger brought tidings in great post,
Both from Narbona and from Mompeleere,
How they were vp in armes along the cost
Of Aquamort, and all that dwelled neere,
And how Marsilias men their hearts had lost,
Because of her no tidings they could beare:
And (for her absence made them ill apayd)
They sent to haue her presence and her ayd.
The [...] of [...].
These townes and others many to the same,
Betweene the streames of Rodon and of Vare,
The Empror had assignd this worthy dame,
Committing them vnto her trust and care.
Her noble value gat her all this fame,
Because in armes her selfe she brauely bare,
And so the cities vnder her subiection,
This message sent, requiring her direction.
Which when she heard, it made her somewhat pause,
Twixt yea and no she stood a pretie space,
Of one side honor and her office drawes,
On th'other side loue helpes to pleade the case,
At last she meanes t'ensue the present cause,
And fetch Rogero from th'inchanted place:
And if her force cannot to this attaine,
At least with him a prisner to remaine.
In c [...]rteous sort her answer she contriued,
With gracious words, and sent away the post,
She longs with her new guide to haue ariued,
To that same place where both their loues were lost.
But he perceiuing now she was deriued,
From Clarimont that he detested most,
Doth hate her sore, and feareth to the same,
Lest she should know he of Maganza came.
There was betweene these houses auncient hate,
This of Maganza, that of Clarimount,
And each of them had weakned others state,
By killing men in both of great account.
This P [...]n [...]ab [...] (a vile and wicked mate,
That all his kin in vices did surmount)
Meanes with himselfe this damsell to betray,
Or else to slip aside and go his way.
And this same fancie so his head did fill,
With hate, with feare, with anger and with doubt,
That he mistooke the way against his will,
And knew not how againe to find it out,
Till in the wood he saw a little hill,
Bare on the top, where men might looke about,
But Bradamant such amorous passions feeles,
She followeth like a spaniell at his heeles.
The craftie guide thus wandring in the wood,
Intending now the Ladie to beguile,
Said vnto her forsooth he thought it good,
Sith night grew on [...] themselues to rest a while:
Here is, quoth he (and shewd which way it stood)
A castle faire, and hence not many a mile:
But tarry you a little here vntill
I may descrie the countrey from the hill.
This said, he mounted to the higher ground,
And standing now the highest part vpon,
He cast about his eyes and looked round,
To find some path whereby he might be gone.
When vnawares a monstrous caue he found,
And strange cut out and hollowd in the stone,
Deepe thirtie cubits downe it doth descend,
Hauing a faire large gate at lower end.
Such as great stately houses wont to haue,
Out of which gate proceeds a shining light,
That all within most lightsome makes the caue,
And all this while on this felonious knight
This noble Ladie due attendance gaue,
And neuer suffred him go out of sight.
She followd Pinnabel hard at his backe,
Because she was afeard to leese the tracke.
When as this villaine traitor did espie,
That his designements foolish were and vaine,
Either to leaue her, or to make her die,
He thought it best to trie a further traine,
Perswading her for to descend and trie,
What Ladies faire within the caue remaine;
For why (said he) within this little space
I saw a goodly damsell in the place.
Both rich arayd and very faire of hew,
Like one of noble linage and degree,
And this her fortune made me more to rew,
That here against her will she seemd to be.
And when I thought for to descend and vew,
The cause of this her griefe to know and see,
I was no sooner from my horse alighted,
But with infernall hags I was afrighted.
The noble Bradamant that was more stout,
Then warie who it was did her perswade,
Hath such desire to helpe a damsell out,
That straight the caue she meaneth to inuade,
She finds by hap a long bough thereabout,
Thereof a pole of mightie length she made,
First with her sword she hewes and pares it fit,
That done she lets it downe into the pit.
She giueth Pinnabel the bigger end,
And prayes him stand aboue and hold it fast,
And by the same intending to descend,
Vpon her armes her whole waight she doth cast.
But he that to destroy her did [...]ntend,
Doth aske if she would learne to leape a cast,
And laughing, loosd his hands that were together,
And wisht that all the race of them were with her.
Yet great good hap the gentle damsell found,
As well deseru'd a mi [...]d so innocent:
For why the pol [...] strake first vpon the ground,
And though by force it shiuerd all and rent,
Yet were her limbes and life kept safe and sound,
For all his vile and traiterous intent,
Sore was the damsell mazed with the fall,
As in another booke declare I shall.

In thi [...] second booke in the combat betweene Renaldo and Sacrapant, The Morall. we may obserue how the passion of loue, together with the termes that men stand vpon for their reputation & credit, are oftentimes occasions of bitter quarels: and in their soda [...]e parting and great perplexitie, that both of them were stricken into by the false tale that the spirit told them [Page 15] of Orlando, we may gather how very apt ielousie is to conceiue and beleeue euery false report. By Renaldos obedience to Charles in going on embassage notwithstanding all his priuat affaires and affections, we may take example of dutiful obedience to our lawfull Prince. And in that Pinnabel seekes to betray Bradamant, and to kill her by letting her fall into the caue, into the which she trusted he would haue let her downe safely and friendly, we may note two speciall things, one, that it is good to be warie into whose hands we commit the sauegard of our liues and state: the other, that base minded men being wickedly set on reuenge, care not by what treason or villanie they worke the ouerthrow of their enemies.

For the Historie of this Canto,Storie. I will not affirme too precisely, for I find not in any credible author of Renaldos em­bassage into England, neither is it very likely, if the King of England were then in Paris, (as in another place of this worke is affirmed) that a Peere of France should be sent hither, and not rather some English noble man sent from the King to his other subiects in England, with directions and instructions from him.

That Paris and Charles himselfe were in some distresse about that time, is not vnprobable, and that the Turkes at their first arriuall preuailed very farre against the Christians, though it lasted but a while.

As for Rogero, whom he toucheth in this booke, and that is so much spoken of in this w [...]le worke, as Aeneas is in Vir­gil, though in both rather in fabulous and in Allegoricall sence, then plainly and historicaly: yet I find it in very good Authors, that a man of that name was indeed the chiefe raiser of the house of Este the now Dukes of Perrara.

For the Allegorie,Allegorie. as I noted in the first booke of Bayardo, so the same is still continued or rather repeated, namely, that the horse, by which is meant mans feruent and furious appetite, which is more plainly signified where it is said of the horse:

His going onely was to this intent,
To shew his master where the damsell went.

So that still this vnbridled desire figured by Bayardo, leades Renaldo on foote, whereby is vnderstood sensualitie to pur­sue Angelica, with a base desire of the most base pleasure.

In the shield, whose light amazed the lookers on, and made them fall downe astonied, may be Allegorically meant the great pompes of the world, that make shining shewes in the bleared eyes of vaine people, and blind them, and make them to admire and fall downe before them, hauing indeed nothing but shining titles without vertue, like painted sheaths with leaden weapons, or like straw without the graine: either else may be meant the flaring beauties of some gorgeous women, that astonish the eyes of weake minded men, apt to receiue such louing impressions, as Atlantas shield did amaze their senses that beheld it.

For the Allegorie of the horse, what is meant thereby, I reserue to another place, where I will follow it more at large then this little space will giue me leaue, and in that booke where he is more treated of.

The Allusion,Allusion. to which this flying horse is referred, and from whence it is taken, is from Pegasus, the flying horse that Pindar writes of, bred of the bloud of Medusa, on which beast Bellerophon was wont to ride, flying the false accusation of Pretus wife.

Also the shield it selfe seemes to allude to the fable of Medusas head, that turned men into stones.



Faire Bradamant was falne in Marlins caue,
Melissa meetes her there her ancient friend,
And there to her she perfite notice gaue,
Of such braue men as should from her descend.
She told her where she should Rogero haue,
Whom old Atlanta had in prison pend,
And from Brunello how to take the ring,
That vnto libertie her deere might bring.
OH that my head were so well storde with skill,
Of such a noble subiect fit to treat,
Oh that my wits were e­quall to my will,
To frame a phrase fit for so high conceat:
Ye muses that do hold the sacred hill,
Inspire my heart with flame of learned heat,
While I presume in base and lowly verse,
The names of glorious Princes to reherse.
Such Princes as excell all Princes far,
In all the gifts of bodie and of mind,
Temprat in peace, victorious eake in war,
Themselues most noble, come of noble kind.
And such (except my guesse do greatly arre)
As are by heau'ns eternall doome assignd,
In wealth, in fame, in rule and in prosperitie,
To liue themselues, their children and posteritie.
Nor can I now their seuerall actes most rare,
Atcheeud by eu'rie one of them recite,
No though my verse with Virgils might compare,
Or I as well as Homer could endite:
With their great praise, great volumes filled are,
With large discourse, by them that stories write.
I onely meane to show what was foreshowne,
Long er their persons or their deeds were knowne.
But first of Pinnabel a word to speake,
Who as you heard with traiterous intent,
The bonds of all humanitie did break,
For which er long himselfe was after shent,
Thus while base minds their wrōgs do basely wreak
They do that once that often they repent,
And curse that time,
Horace dum pe­nas odio per vi [...] festinas inulto.
a thousand times, too late
When they pursude their vnreuenged hate.
With fainting heart, (for sin is full of feare,)
By stealing steps from hence he doth depart,
And as he goes he prieth here and there,
His fearefull looke bewrayes his guiltie hart,
Sentence: Ouid: beu quam diffi­cile est crimen nō prodere vultu?
Not yet his dread doth moue him to forbeare,
To heape more sin vpon this ill desart.
Appald with feare, but toucht with no remorse,
Supposing she was slaine, he takes her horse.
But let him go vntill another time,
For I do meane hereafter you shall heare,
Booke 22. sta. 7 [...].
How he was dealt with, when his double crime,
In secret wrought, most open did appeare,
Now vnto Bradamant I bend my time,
Who with her fall, was yet of heauie cheare:
And had bene taught a gamball for the nonce,
To giue her death and buriall at once.
Now when she came vnto her selfe againe,
And had recouerd memorie and sence,
She gets her on her feete, although with paine,
In mind to seeke some way to get fro thence,
When loe, before her face she seeth plaine,
A stately portall built with great expence,
And next behind the same she might descrie,
A larger roome and fairer to the eye.
Merlins tombe.
This was a church most solemne and deuout,
That stands on marble pillars small and round,
And raisd by art on arches all about,
That made ech voyce to yeeld a double sound.
A lightsome lampe that neuer goeth out,
Did burne on altar standing in the ground:
That though the rooms were large & wide in space,
The lampe did serue to lighten all the place.
The noble damsell full of reu'rent feare,
When as her selfe in sacred place she sees,
(As one that still a godly minde did beare,)
Christ our saui­our.
Begins to pray to him vpon her knees,
Whose holy side was perst with cruell speare,
And who to saue our liues his owne did leese:
And while she stayes deuoutly at her prayre,
The sage Melissa doth to her repaire.
Her gowne vngyrt, her haire about her hed,
Much like a priest or prophetesse arraid,
And in her booke a little while she red,
And after thus vnto the damsell said:
O thou by Gods appointment hither led,
O Bradamant, most wise and worthy maid,
I long haue looked here for this thy comming,
Foretold thereof by prophet Merlines cunning.
The descriptiō of Merlins tombe, out of the book of king Arthur, but this is poetic all licence to faine is to be in France, for it is in Wales.
Here is the tombe that Merline erst did make,
By force of secret skill and hidden art,
In which sometimes the Ladie of the lake,
That with her beautie had bewitcht his hart,
Did make him enter fondly for her sake,
From whence he neuer after could depart,
And he was by a woman ouer reached,
That vnto others prophesied and preached.
His carkas dead within this stone is bound,
But with dead corse the liuing soule doth dwell:
Til doomes day.
And shall vntill it here the trumpet sound,
That brings reward of doing ill or well.
His voyce doth liue, and answer and expound,
And things both present past and future tell,
Resoluing men of eu'rie doubtfull case,
That for his counsell come vnto this place.
About a month or little more or lesse,
It is since I repaird to Merlins graue,
Of him about the studie I professe,
Some precepts and instructions to haue.
And (for I willing was I must confesse)
To meete you at your comming to this caue [...]
For which he did prefixe this certaine day,
This moued me of purpose here to stay.
Duke Ammons daughter silent stands and still,
The while the wise Melyssa to her spake,
Astonished at this vnusuall skill,
And doubting if she were a sleepe or wake,
A modest shame with grace her eyes doth fill,
With which downe cast, this answer she doth make:
Alas what good or merite is in me
That prophets should my comming so foresee?
And glad of this aduenture vnexpected,
She followeth her guide with great delight,
And straight she saw the stately toombe erected,
Of marble pure that held his bones and sprite,
And (that which one would little haue suspected)
The verie marble was so cleare and bright,
That though the sunne no light vnto it gaue,
The toombe it selfe did lighten all the caue.
For whether be the nature of some stone,
A darke some place with lightsomnes to fill,
Or were it done by magike art alone,
Or else by helpe of Mathematike skill,
To make transparencies to meete in one,
And so conuey the sunne beames where you will:
But sure it was most curious to behold,
Set forth with carued workes and guilt with gold.
Now when the damsell was approched nyre,
To this strange toombe where Merlins bones were plast,
Forth of the stones that shine like flaming fire,
His liuely voyce such speeches out doth cast:
Let fortune euer fauour thy desire,
O Bradamant thou noble maid and chast,
From out whose wombe an issue shall proceed,
That all the world in glorie shall exceed.
The noble blood that came of ancient Troy,
In the [...] [...]ucles of [...] they [...] gain gr [...] from the [...] Pri [...] By the [...] these f [...] [...] us vnder [...] East, W [...] North [...] South.
By two cleare springs in thee togither mixt,
Shall breed the flowre, the iewell and the ioy,
Of all on whom the sunne his beames hath fixt,
Twixt those that heat, and those that cold annoy,
From Tage to Inde, Danub and Nile betwixt,
Emp'rors and kings, and dukes and lords for ay,
Of this thy linage carrie shall the sway.
And many a Captaine braue and worthy Knight,
Shall issue from this stocke, that shall restore
By warlike feates the glorie shining bright,
That Italy possessed heretofore.
And magistrates to maintaine peace and right,
As Numa and Augustus did before,
To cherish vertue, vice so to asswage,
As shall to vs bring backe the golden age.
Wherefore sith God hath by predestination,
Appointed thee to be Rogeros wife,
And means to blesse thine heirs and generation,
With all the graces granted in this life,
Persist thou firme in thy determination,
And stoutly ouercome each storme of strife,
And worke his worthy punishment and paine,
That doth thy liues delight from thee detaine.
This said: the prophet Merline holds his peace,
And giues Melissa time to worke her will,
Who when she did perceiue the voice to cease,
She purposeth by practise of her skill,
To shew the damsell part of that increase,
That should with fame the world hereafter fill.
And for this end she calls a great assemble,
Ofsprights that might their persons all resemble.
Who straight by words of secret vertue bound,
In numbers great vnto the caue repaire,
Of whence I know not, whether vnder ground,
Or else of those that wander in the aire:
Then thrise she drawes about a circle round,
And thrise she hallowes it with secret praire.
Then opens she a triple clasped booke,
And softly whispering in it she doth looke.
This done she takes the damsell by the hand
Exhorting her she should not be afraid,
And in a circle causeth her to stand,
And for her more securitie and aid,
And as it were for more assured band,
Vpon her head some characters she laid.
Then hauing done her due and solemne rites,
She doth beginne to call vpon the sprites.
Behold a crew of them come rushing in,
In sundrie shapes with persons great and tall,
And now they filled all the roome within,
So readily they came vnto her call,
When Bradamant to feare did straight begin,
Her heart was cold, her colour waxed pall.
But yet the circle kept her like a wall,
So that she needed not to feare at all.
Howbeit Melyssa caused them be gone,
From thence vnto the next adioyning caue,
And thence to come before them one by one,
The better notice of their names to haue,
That at more leysure they may talke thereon,
When as occasion so may seeme to craue.
Although (quoth she) this short time cannot serue
To speake of eu'rie one as they deserue.
Lo here the first thy first begotten sonne,
That beares thy fauour and his fathers name,
By whom the Lombards shall in fight be wonne,
To Desiderius their kings great shame,
Who shall at Pontyr make the streames to runne,
With blood in fields adioyning to the same,
And shall reuenge the deeds and minds vnpure,
Of such as did his fathers fall procure.
And for this noble act among the rest,
The Emperour shall giue him in reward,
The honours great of Calaon and Est,
By which his familie shalbe prefard.
The next Vberto is whose valiant brest,
Shalbe vnto the holy church a gard.
Defending it with valiant heart and hand,
To th'honour of
Helperyan armes and land.
Alberto he is nam'd that third comes in,
Whose triumphs are most famous eu'rie where,
Then his sonne Hugo that did Millain winne,
And for his crest two vipers vs'd to beare,
Next Atso is and next to him of kinne,
That erst of Lombardie the crowne shall weare,
Then Albertasso by whose meanes are wonne,
Beringers both father and the sonne.
To him shall Othons fauour so encline,
He shall in marridge giue to him his daughter,
Now Hugo comes againe, o happie line,
Hugo, ij.
And happie man that sau'd so great a slaughter,
When at Christ vicars rule Rome did repine,
He daunteth them and so restord them after:
The which by wit without the dint of sword,
He shall effect in Othons time the thurd,
Now Fulko comes that to his brother gaue,
His land in Italy which was not small,
And dwelt in Almany his land to saue
Of Samsony, that vnto him did fall
A duke dome great that did with Castels braue,
Accrew to him for want of issue male.
By him that noble house is held and cherished,
That but for him would be extinct and perished.
Then cometh Atso that misliketh warre,
But yet his sonnes Bertold and Albertasse,
Atso Bertaldo Albertasso of Renaldo.
With second H [...]nrie shalbe still at iarre,
And bring the Dutchmen to a wofull passe.
Next young Renaldo shining like a starre,
Shalbe vnto the church a wall of brasse,
And worke the vtter ouerthrow and losse,
Of wicked Fredrike named Barbarosse,
Behold another Atso shall possesse,
Verona with a stately territorie,
Of Oton and Honorius no lesse,
Shalbe a marques made to his great glorie,
It would be long their names all to expresse,
That shall protect the sacred consistorie,
And in most valerous and marshall manner,
Display and eke defend the Churches banner.
Obyso next and Folko you may view,
Obyso, Folco.
With Henries two, the father and the sonne,
Both Guelf [...]s that frutfull Humbrya shall subdew,
And keepe the dukedome there by conquest won.
Behold him that the good state doth renew,
Of Italy that late was quite vndone.
Cald Atso sift that brauely ouerthrew,
The cruell Esselino and him slew.
That cruell Esselyno that was thought,
To haue beene gotten by some wicked diuell,
That neuer any goodnesse had beene taught,
But sold his soule to sinne and doing euill,
Comparing with the cruell acts he wrought,
Fierce Nero were but myld and Sylla ciuell.
Beside this Atso shall in time to come
The powre of second Fredrike ouercome.
And then he shall his brother Albandrine,
Vnto the Florentines for monie gage,
And Othon with the faction Gebellyn,
He shall suppresse amid the furious rage,
And raise the church, nor letting it decline,
But spending to defend it all his age.
For which good seruice he shall iustly merite;
The dukedome of Ferara to inherite [...]
Next him Renaldo now ensu'th, whose lot
Shalbe at Naples to be made away,
A death his verrtuous deeds deserued not,
But wo to them that guiltlesse blood betray.
Now followeth a'worthy crue and knot,
Whose acts alone to tell would spend a day:
O [...]so, Nicolas and Alabrandme,
Whose noble deeds shall honour much their line.
[...] 2.
Then Nicolas is he that next ensuth,
That rul'd in tender yeares both neere and farre,
That findes and eke reuengeth their vntruth,
That sought his state by ciuill strife to marre.
The sports and exercises of his youth,
Are blowes and fights, and dangers great & warre,
Which makes that ere to manly state he came,
For martiall deeds he gets the onely name.
Lo Lyonell the glorie of his age,
Maintaining peace and quiet all his time,
And keeping that with ease by wisedome sage,
To which some others by much paine do clime.
That fettred furie and rebuked rage,
That locks vp Mars in wals of stone and lime:
That all his wit, his care and trauell bent,
To make his subiects liue in state content.
Now Hercles comes, an Hercules indeed,
Whose deeds shall merite euer during fame:
That by his paines his countries ease shall breed,
And put his enemies to flight and shame.
Sharpe to deuise, to execute with speed,
Both stout t'attempt, and patient to the same,
No prince shall euer rule his countrie better,
No prince had euer countrie more his detter.
Not onely that he shall their moorish grounds,
By great expence to pasture sirme reduce,
Not that the towne with wall enuiron round,
And store with things behoostull to their vse,
Not that when warre in ech place shall abound,
He shall maintaine them peaceably in truce,
Not that he shall according to their asking
Disburden them of payments and of tasking.
But that he shall more and aboue all thease,
Leaue them behind him such a worthy race,
As search within the circuit of the seas,
You shall not find two to supplie their place.
So shall the one the other striue to please,
So shall the one the others loue imbrace,
As may for louing brotherly regard,
With Castor and with Pollux be compard.
The elder of these two Alfonso hight,
Alfonso. Hyppolito.
The next of them Hyppolito we call,
Both passing stout and valiant in fight,
Both passing wise and prouident withall:
And both in due defence of countries right,
Shall seeme a bulwarke and a brazen wall:
They both shall haue of enemies good store,
They both shall still subdue them euermore.
Their mother (if I may a mother name,)
One more like Progne and Medea fell,
Vnto her endlesse infamie and shame,
Against her sonne Alfonso shall rebell,
And ioyne with Venice force (for this to blame)
Though for the same ere long they paid full well,
For those they thought to hurt, they did this good,
To make the groūd more fruitfull with their blood.
Nor far fro thence the Spanish souldier hired,
By pastors purse and in that pastors pay,
That with a forcible assault aspired,
To take a sort, and eke the captaine slay.
But loe he comes and they perforce retyred,
And haue so short a pleasure of this pray,
Scarse one of them in life is left abiding,
To carrie notice of so heauie tiding.
His wit and valour shall him so aduance,
To haue the honour of Romama field,
Where by his meanes vnto the force of France,
The Pope and Spaniards, forced are to yeeld:
And there in Christian blood, ò fatall chance,
Shall horses swimme, such number shall be keeld,
Nor shall not men enough aliue remaine,
To burie those shall be in battell slaine.
The while his brother vnder Card'nals cap,
Shall couer, nay shall thew a prudent head,
Hyppolito (I meane) who shall haue hap,
With band of men but small (yet wisely led)
To giue to the Venetians such a clap,
As few the like in stories haue bene read.
To take three times fiue Gallies at one ride,
And barkes and boates a thousand more beside.
Behold two Sygismonds both wise and graue,
Alfonso next, whose fame is talkt of rife,
With his fiue sonnes, then Hercles that shall haue
The king of France his daughter to his wife,
That towards him, her selfe shall to behaue,
Hy [...]
Shall make him liue most happie all his life.
Hyppolito it is that now comes in,
Not least for praise and glorie of his kin.
Next Francis named third, Alfonsos two,
Fran [...] Alf [...]
With many others worthy of renowne,
The which to name might finde one worke to do,
From Phoebus rising to his going downe.
Now therefore if you will consent thereto,
I here will end and send the spirits downe:
To this the worthy damsell said not nay,
And straight the spirits vanisht all away.
Then Bradamant, that all well marked had,
Of whom her selfe should be the ancient mother,
Did say, to learne she would be very glad,
What two those were that differed from the other,
That came with backward steps and lookt so sad,
Vpon the good Alfonso and his brother.
Melyssa sight, misliking that suggestion,
That moued her to aske so grieuous question.
And then as in a trance these words she spake,
O thou more worthy sonne of worthy sire,
They are thy bloud, on them compassion take,
Let grace allwage, though iustice kindle ire:
Then vnto Bradamant as new awake,
I must (said she) denie you this desire,
I say no more, content you with the sweet,
For you this sower morsell is not meet.
Tomorrow when the Sunne at breake of day,
With light shall dim the light of eu'ry starre:
I meane my selfe to guide you on your way,
So as I will be sure you shall not arre.
The place whereas your loue is forc'd to stay,
Is from the salt sea shore not very farre:
That were you past a mile beyond this wood,
The other way would easie be and good.
Of this nights stay the damsell was content,
And in the caue with her she doth remaine,
And most thereof in Merlins toombe she spent,
Whose voice with talke did her still entertaine:
Emboldning her to giue her free consent,
To loue where she should sure be lou'd againe.
Now gan the messenger of day to cro,
When as her guide and she away did go.
The way they went was darke and vnaccessible,
By secret vaults and hollowes of the hill,
To find it out had bene a thing impossible,
But with a guide of knowledge great and skill:
At last they came vnto a path more passible,
By which they cease not to ascend, vntiil
They quite had left the darke and lothsome place,
And saw the beames of Phoebus chearefull face.
And while that vp this hill they slowly stalke,
With pausing panting oft, and taking wind,
To make lesse wearie seeme their weane walke,
Melyssa still doth store of matter find,
And now of this, and then of that doth talke,
But chiefly she the damsell puts in mind,
Of her Rogero, how he had bene trained
Into the prison where he now remained.
Atlanta that Magician strange is he
That holdeth him (I trust) vnto his cost,
But had you Pallas strength or Mars (quoth she)
And eke of armed men a mightie host,
Yet to attempt by force to set him free,
Your trauell and your labour all were lost.
Art must be wonne by art, and not by might,
Force cannot free your welbeloued knight.
For first the castle mounted is on hie,
Impregnable with wals all ouer steeld,
And next, the horse he rides hath wings to flie,
And gallops in the aire as in the field [...]
And last he dazleth eu'ry mortalleie,
By hidden force of his enchanted shield,
With light whereof mens senses are so dazed,
With sight thereof they fall downe all amazed.
In all the world one onely meane hath beene,
And is yet still to worke so rare a feat,
A ring there is which from an Indian Queene,
Was stoine sometime, of price and vertue great:
This ring can make a man to go vnseene,
The ring was stolne from Angelica.
This ring can all inchantments quite defeat:
King Agramant hath sent his secretarie,
Vnto Rogero this same ring to carie.
Brunello is his name that hath the ring,
Most leud and false, but politike and his wise,
A machiaui [...] secretarie.
And put in trust especiall by his king,
With it Rogeros safetie to deuise:
Which sith I wish not he, but you should bring,
To bind him to you by this enterprise,
And for I would not haue the Turke protect him,
Because I know he greatly doth affect him.
Do therefore this, when you do meete this man,
Whose markes I wish in memory you beare.
His statute is two cubits and a span,
His head is long and gray, and thin of haire,
His nose is short and flat, his colour wan,
With beetle brow, eyes watrie not with teare,
His beard growes on his face without all stint,
And to conclude, his looke is all a squint.
Now when as you this comely man shall meet,
As sure you shall within a day or two,
You may with curteous words him seeme to greet,
And tell him partly what you meane to do:
But speake not of the ring although you see't,
For so you may the matter all vndo,
Then he great courtesie to you will offer,
And straight his companie to you will proffer.
But when vnto the castle you come nie,
Then see you set vpon him on the way,
And take away the ring and make him die,
Nor giue him any time, lest he conuay
The ring into his mouth, and so thereby
Out of your sight he vanish quite away.
The worthy damsell makes her speeches well,
And so the one the other bids farewell.
Next day she hapt Brunello to espie,
She knew him straight, she found him at her Inne,
She growes to question with him by and by,
And he to lie doth by and by beginne,
And she dissembles too, and doth d. nie
Her countrey, stocke and name, and sex and kinne.
Brunello pleasantly doth talke and tipple,
Not knowing he did halt before a cripple.
Now when they almost broken had their fast,
She marking more his fingers then his eies,
When much good talk between them two had past,
The most whereof were false and forged hes,
Behold mine host came vnto them in hast,
And told them newes that made them sooner rise:
But here I meane to make a little pause,
Before I tell what was thereof the cause.

[Page 22] [...] may note in Bradamant a worthy example of deuotion, that in her sodaine mishap, had recourse [...]. In the great praise of Rogero and Bradamant his posterittie, noblemen and gentlemen of good houses may take [...] father vertu us ancestors, and thinke themselves beloved of God, and blessed with great temporall blessings, [...] not from their worthy sure fathers. Also we may note, that commonly good parents bring good children.

[...] Melyssa brings Bradamant by intricate wayes from the cave, and instructs her how to confound Atlan­tes [...] good and godly counsel makes men overcome all troubles, and enables them to withstand all wic­ [...] [...] that Bradamant dissembles with Brunello, we may gather a lesson, which in this age we be too apt [...], name [...], to dissimble with dissemblers.

[...] is diners, Storie. it diuers, and therefore I meane to note the principallest of them, as far as my litle reading [...]: and first for Merlin (called the English Prophet) I know many are hard of beleef, and think it a meeresable that is written both of his birth, of his life, and chiefly of his death: for his birth, indeed I beleeue not that he [...] by an Incubus, yet the possibilitie thereof might be proued by this place: Bellarminde [...]rather held with the great clerk Bellarmine, that such birth is either impos­sible, or teacher to the great Antichrist when he shall come. But concerning his life, that there was such a man, a great [...] to King Arthur, I hold it certaine: that he had a castle in [...]shire called after him Merlinsburie, (now Marl­ [...], [...] likely, the old ruines whereof are yet seene in our highway from Bath to London. Also the great stones of [...] and number, that he scattered about the place, have given occasion to some to report, and others [...] wrought by his great spill in Magicke, as likewise the great stones at Stonage on Salis­ [...], [...], which the ignorant people beleeue be brought out of Ireland: and indeed the wiser sort can rather maruel at, [...] they were set there. But for the manner of his death, and place of his buriall, it is so diuersly written [...] countreys chalienged, as a man may be bolder to say that all of them are saise, then that any of them [...] will have him buried in Cornewall, some in Wales (where they say he was borne,) Ariosto by Poeticall li­sence, [...] or him in France, and the fiction of the tombe is taken of a former fiction in King Arthurs booke, [...], that Merlin being exceedingly in loue with the Ladie of the Lake (to brag of his cunning) shewed her one day [...] deuices of his, a [...] that he had made of sufficient capacitie to hold him and his wife, and withall [...] a charme, which being pronounced in an order that he shewed her, the toombe would close, and neuer againe be opened. She having no mind to him, or rather indeed flatly hating him, grew on the sodaine very gamesome with him, [...] him some extraordinary kindnesse, and in the end for want of better pastime would needs perswade him to [...] would hold them both, and so offered her selfe to go in with him: he suspecting nothing lesse then her malicious purpose, went imply in, and straight she shut him in with the couer, and bound it so fast with the charme, as it will ne­uer [...]. This I thought good to set donne for expounding the II. Staffe of this booke the plainer, not that any matter here [...] worth the noting, without it be to warne men not to tell such dangerous secrets to women, except they [...] to imitate the wisedome of Cato in repenting it after. And thus much for Merlin. The rest of the booke [...] a true historie, and is a repetition of the pedegrue of Alfonso Duke of Ferrara, with some briefe touches [...] of their great exploits in Italie: the exposition of all which, I will not pursue at length, as being [...] the learned this haue read those stories, and not very pleasant to the ignorant, nor familiar to our nation. [...] some very few of them, such as I thinke most necessary, and omit the rest, or referre those [...] to informe themselues to some authors where they may reade it more at large.

Rogero [...] Bradamant, and this Rogero so much spoken of in this whole booke, came with Charles the great into [...], where among other Venetian captaines that holpe to suppresse Desiderius king of Lombardie: this Rogero [...] so good seruice, that the Emperour in reward gaue him and his heires the honors of Calaon and Este, neare [...].

The [...]r [...]me came to be the crest of the Vicounts of Millaine by this occasion: Otho a valiant man of that family, in the [...] that Gedfrey of Bullen made to Ierusalem, called the holy warres, did fight at the siege of Ierusalem hand to hand with Voluce, [...] of the [...], and sue him, whose to make himselfe more terrible, did carry on his crest a huge vi­per deucuring of a [...]. Euer since in memory hereof that house carries the viper.

Betingats [...] name there were three, but the chiefe man (meant here) was nephew to the first, and came after the death of [...] grandfather into Italie, and preuailed so farre that he was proclaimed Augustus, and made his sonne King of I [...] with title King of Romanes: but Agapitus then Bishop of Rome, called in Otho King of the Almaines I deliuer Italie from the [...]ranny of the Beringars, who ouercame them, and used them after with great clemency, till afterward the feeling b [...]he [...]e fan usurping Pope t [...]t [...]rannize as before, the same Otho came againe, and in fine desir [...], in which it seemes Albertazzo did some great seruice.

Of Fruderike Barbarossa Sabellicus a riteth, that he maintained Octauius Antipapa (or vsurping Pope) against Alexander, [...] great in Italy in Italy, and much bloodshed, and that the Romanes were so crushed in one battel that he [...] they would neuer be able againe to hold up their heads. But after this, Barbarossa both prosecuted by his enemies, and [...] with the plague in his camp, was glad to fly into Germany: and comming back with new forces, [...], the confederats unquished and [...], and driuen in the end to craue Pope Alexanders fauour. Of this Alexander [...] make great bo [...]t how they restored him, and haue the story ingrauen or painted in one of their [...] Churches for the Pope saying that her in disgussed aparell, and lining closely in the towne like a poore Priest, [...] Crano discouered him, and made him, be greatly honoured by the whole city, by whom as is a aforesaid [...].

[...] Guelss and Ghebellines is spoken of (though it would ask a long discourse to tel the original [Page 23] how it first grew) yet somewhat I must needs say of it: Redate of the [...] Messia de viris le [...]e. the faction first rose of a [...] between two Dutchman in Italie being naturall brothers, though unnaturally falling out, and either drawing parties it grew in the end to such a fa [...]tion. as neither Sylla and Marius, or Caesar and Pompey in Rome, nor ours of Lancaster and Yorke in England, nor any other growne of religion, or what cause soeuer besides, hath bene more violent.

Essellino a notable tyrant, whom one Musatto a Padoan in a tragedie he wrote, affirmes to haue bin gotten by the di­uell: His crueltie was such, he would cut up women quicke with child, and burned at one time 12000 men aliue. He was after taken prisoner, and died of famine.

Of Hercules of Este, as the praises are great he giues him, so it appeares in Guychardine, they are well deserued. For when Charles the eight came into Italie like a thunder (as writers of those times call him) this Hercules with his pru­dent cariage so ordered himselfe, as he and his countrie escaped that tempest.

Concerning the victorie that this Hippolito had of the Venetians, I shall haue more occasion to speake of it in the 40. booke.

The two that Bradamant asketh Melyssa of, were brothers to Alfonso Duke of Ferrara, their names are Ferdinand and Lulio: the storie is this. It happened that being all yong men, Hippolito and one of these yonger brothers fel both in loue with one Curtesan, but she entertained the loue of the yonger with most kindnes; whereupon Hippolito asked her one day very instantly, what it was that moued her to prefer his brother asore him; and she said it was his beautifull eie: wherupon Hippolito made some of his pages to thrust out his eies. Notwithstanding he afterward recouered his eies, and finding no redresse by complaining to Alfonso, he and one other brother conspired to kill him; but at the time of the execution, their hearts failed them, or their minds altered: and after the conspiracie being discouered, they were kept in perpetuall prison.

And in this he alludes to that of Marcellus in Virgil, Luctus ac quaeretuorum.



Bradamant ouercomes the false Magician,
And sets Rogero free, who by and by
Leapt on a horse not knowing his condition,
Who bare him quite from sight of any eye.
Renaldo sailed as he had commission,
To England ward, but borne by wind awrie,
At Callidon in Scotland he arriued,
When faire Geneuras soule death was contriued.
[...] is rather an [...] then a [...] of dissem­ [...].
THough he that useth craft and simulation,
Doth seldome bend his acts to honest ends,
But rather of an euill in­clination,
His wit and skill to others mischiefe bends:
Yet sith in this our world­ly habitation,
We do not euer dwell among our frends,
Dissembling doubtlesse oftentimes may saue
Mens liues, their same and goods, and all they haue.
If man by long acquaintance and great proofe,
[...] and neces­ [...] as that of [...] in Tar­ [...] time to [...] himselfe the tyrant. [...].
To trust some one man seant can be allured,
To whom he may in presence or aloofe,
Vnfold the secrets of his mind assured:
Then doth this damsell merite no reproofe,
That with Brunello (to all fraud inured)
Doth frame her selfe to counterfeit a while,
For to deceiue deceiuers is no guile.
Now while these two did to conferre begin,
She to his fingers hauing still an eie,
The host and other seruants of the Inne,
[...] blasing [...] for the most [...] cause great [...].
Came on the sodaine with a wofull crie,
And some did gaze without, and some within,
(As when men see a Comet in the skie)
The cause of this their wondring and their crying,
Was that they saw an armed horseman flying.
And straight by th'host and others they were told,
How one that had in Magicke art great skill,
Not farre from thence had made a stately hold,
Of shining steele, and plac'd it on a hill,
To which he bringeth Ladies yong and old,
And men and maids according to his will,
And when within that castle they haue beene,
They neuer after haue bene heard or seene.
No sooner can he spie a pretie maide,
But straight he takes her vp into the aire,
The which his custome makes them all afraid,
That either are or thinke that they be faire.
Those hardie knights that went to giue them aide,
Of which sort many hither did repaire,
Simile, Horace: Omnia te aducrusum spe­ctantia nulla restrosum.
Went like the beasts to the sicke Lions den,
For all went in, but none returnd agen.
This tale in worthy Bradamant did breed
A kind of pleasure and confused ioy,
In hope (which after she performd indeed)
The sight of her beloued to enioy,
She praid the host procure a guide with speed,
As though each little stay did breed annoy:
She sweares that in her heart she longd to wrastle
With him that kept the captiues in his castle.
Because that you sir knight should want no guide,
(Brunello said) I will my selfe be he,
I know the way, and somewhat haue beside,
By which may fortune you may pleasur'd be:
He meant the ring offorce and vertue tride,
Although he meant not she the same should see.
Great thanks (quoth she) that you will take ye paine,
In hope hereby the precious ring to gaine.
Thus each from other hiding their intent,
They forward set like friends by breake of day,
Brunello sometime foremost of them went,
Sometime behind, as chanced on the way.
Now had they certaine houres in trauell spent,
When they arriued where the castle lay,
Whereas mount Pyrene stands aboue the plaine,
So high as may discouer France and Spaine.
When is the castle did in sight appeare,
So strange, so faire, so stately, and so hie,
In which that knight whom the esteem'd so deare,
With many others, prisoner did lie.
She thought her finest time drew very neare,
To take the ring, and make Brunello die.
Wherefore with open force she doth assaile him,
Whose strength with age and feare soon gan to saile him.
Her meaning was the Caitise to haue kild,
But vnto that her noble heart said nay,
Small praise would come from bloud so basely spild,
She meanes to get the ring another way:
But first the bound him wher he wild or nild,
And though with teares he did for pittie pray,
Yet lest she him vnto a tree fast tide,
And with the ring away the straight did ride.
And being in the greene fast by the towre,
Straight (as the fashion was) her horne she blew,
Out came that armed knight that present houre,
And seeing there a challenger in vew,
He seemeth to assault her with great powre,
But by the ring she all his falshood knew:
She saw he carride neither sword nor speare,
Nor any weapon that one need to feare.
He onely carride at his saddle bow,
A shield all wrapped in a crimson case,
And read a booke by which he made to show
Some strange and strong illusions in the place:
And many that these cunnings did not know,
He had dece [...]'d and tane in little space.
And could both swords and lances to appeare,
When neither word nor lances them were neare.
But yet the beast he rode was not of art,
But gotten of a Griffeth and a Mate,
And like a Griffeth had the former part,
As wings and head, and clawes that hideous are,
And passing strength and force and ventrous hart,
But all the rest may with a horse compare.
Such beasts as these the hils of Ryfee yeeld,
Though in these parts they haue bin seene but seeld.
This monster rare from far theft regions brought
This rare Magician ord ed with such skill,
That in one month or little more he tought
The sauage monster to obey his will:
And though by comurations strange he wrought,
In other things his fancie to fulfill,
(As cunning men sultrie each strange conclusion)
Yet in this Griffeth horse was one collusion.
The Ladie faire protected by the ring,
Found all his sleights (although she seemd not so)
Her purpose to the better passe to bring,
And first she seemes to ward a comming blow,
And then to strike, and oft to curse the wing,
That carride still away her flying so,
And sith to fight on horsebacke did not boote,
She seemes as in a rage to light on foote.
The Necromancer, as his manner is,
Disclosed at the last his shining shield,
Supposing that the vertue would not misse,
To make her (as it had done others) yeeld:
So haue I seene a craftie cat ere this,
Play with a silly mouse o [...] house or field,
And let it go a while for sport and play,
But kill at last and beare it quite away.
I say that he the cat, the other mise,
Resembled had in euery former fight,
But now this ring had made this one so wise,
That when she saw the strange enchanted light,
She falleth not of force, but of deurie,
Sit at [...] arte.
As though she were astoned at the sight,
And lay like one of life and sense bereaued,
By which the poore Magician was deceaued.
For straight he lighted from the flying horse,
To take her as he had done many mo,
The shield and booke in which was all his force,
He left behind him at his saddle bow,
But thinking to haue found a senslesse corse,
Amazd and dead, he finds it nothing so,
For vp the starts, so quite the case was altred,
That with the cord he brought, himselfe was haltred.
And when with those selfe bonds she had him tide,
By which he thought before her to haue snared,
She strong and yong, he witherd, old and dride,
Alas an vnmeet match to be compared,
Forthwith determining he should haue dide,
To strike his head from shoulders she prepared,
Till she was mou'd to mercie with his teares,
And with the sight of white and hoaty haires.
For when he saw his force was ouerlaid,
And that her strength was not to be withstood,
O pardon life thou heauenly wight (he said)
No honour comes by spilling aged blood.
Which words to mercie mou'd the noble maid,
Whose mind was alwayes merciful and good.
Then why he built the castle she demanded,
And what he was to tell her him commanded.
With wosull words the old man thus replide,
I made this castle for no ill intention,
For couetice or any sault beside,
Or that I loued rapine or contention,
But to preuent a danger shall betide
A gentle knight, I framed this inuention:
Who as the heauens hath shewd me in short season,
Shall die in Christian state by silthy treason.
Rogero named is this worthy youth,
Whose good and safetie saine I would aduance,
My name Atlante is to tell you truth,
I bred him of a child, till his hard chance,
And valiant mind (that breeds alas my ruth)
With Agramant entist him into France.
And I that (like mine owne child) alway lou'd him,
From France and danger saine would haue remou'd him.
By art and helpe of many a hellish else,
This castle for Rogero I did build,
And tooke him as I meant to take thy selfe,
But that with greater art I was beguild,
From daintie fare, and other worldly pelse,
Because he should not thinke himselfe exild,
For company I brought him worthy wights,
Both men and women, Ladies faire and Knights.
They haue all plentie of desired pleasure,
I bend to their contentment all my care,
For them I spend my trauell and my treasure,
For musicke, clothes and games, and daintiesare,
As hart can think, and mouth require with measure,
Great store for them within this castle are.
Well had I traueld, well my time bestowed,
But you haue mard the fruits that I had sowed,
But if your mind be gracious as your looke,
If stonie heart bide not in tender brest,
Behold I offer thee my shield and booke,
And flying horse, and grant my iust request,
Some two or three, or all the Knights I tooke,
I giue thee free, let but Rogero rest:
Whose health whose wealth, whose sasty and welfare
Haue euer bene (and euer shall) my care.
Your care (quoth she) is very ill bestowne,
In thraldome vile to keepe a worthy wiglit:
As for your gifts you offer but mine owne,
Sith by my conquest you are mine in right.
Those dangers great you say to be foreshowne,
[...]entence. [...] The. Moore. [...]nque prescieris sands est nulla [...]culeas. Quid [...]scure iuuat [...] patiere [...]?
And vpon him in time to come must light,
With figures cast and heauenly planets vewed,
Cannot be knowne or cannot be eschewed.
How can you others harmes foresee so farre,
And not preuent your owne that were so nie?
I certaine shall suppose your art doth arre,
And for the rest the end the truth shall trie
I now intend your matter all to marre,
And that before these bonds I will vntie,
You shall set free and loose your prisners all,
Whom in this castle you detained thrall.
When as the poore old man was so distrest,
That needs he must for feare and dread obay,
[...] bold opini [...] as coniurers nd spirits in [...] or hollow ones, & by that [...]orke their vange effects.
And that this same imperious dames behest,
Could neither beare deniall nor delay,
To do as she commands he deemes it best,
And therefore takes th'inchanted place away.
He breaks some hollow suming pots of stone,
And straight the wais and buildings all were gone.
This done, himselfe eke vanisht out of sight,
As did the castle at that present hower,
Then Ladies, Lords, and many a worthy knight,
Were straight releast from his enchanted power:
And some there were had taken such delight
In those so stately lodgings of that tower,
That they esteemd that libertie a paine,
And wisht that pleasant slauery againe.
Here were at freedome set among the rest,
Gradasso, Sacrapant, two kings of name,
Prasyldo and Iroldo that from th'Est
Into this country with Renaldo came.
Here Bradamant found him she loued best,
Her deare Rogero of renowned same,
Who after certaine notice of her had,
Did shew to see her he was very glad.
As one of whom he great account did make,
And thought himselfe to her most highly bound,
Since stie put off her helmet for his sake,
And in her head receiu'd a grieuous wound,
Twere long to tell what toile they both did take,
Both night and day each other to haue found,
But till this present time they had no meeting,
Nor giu'n by word nor writing any greeting.
Now when before him present he beheld
Her that from danger had him sole redeemed,
His heart with so great ioy and mirth was fild,
The happiest wight on earth himselfe he deemed:
And cristall teares from her faire eyes distild,
Embracing him whom she most deare esteemed.
As oft we see a strong and sodaine passion,
Bring forth effects quite of another fashion.
The Griffeth horse the while vpon the plaine,
Stood with the target at his saddle bow,
The damsell thought to take him by the raine,
But he then mounteth vp, and like a crow
Ghast by a dog forthwith descends againe,
And standeth still, or soareth very low,
And when that some come nie in hope to take him,
He flies away that none can ouertake him.
But neare vnto Rogero soone he staid,
Which by Atlantas care was sole procured,
Who for Rogeros danger was afraid,
And thinkes his safetie neuer well assured,
Wherefore he sent this monster for his aid,
And by this meanes from Europe him allured,
To his welfare his cares and thoughts he bendeth,
To succor and preserue him he intendeth.
Rogero from his horse forthwith alighted,
(The horse he rode on was Frontyno named)
And with this flying horse was so delighted,
That though he saw him wanton and vntamed,
Yet vp he leapt, and soone was sore afrighted,
He finds he would not to his mind be framed,
For in the aire the Griffeth soard so hie,
As doth the Faulcon that at sowle doth slie.
The damsell saire that now beheld her deare,
Borne farre away by force of monsters wing,
Was sorowfull and of so heauie cheare,
[...] to heaven by an [...]
That to their course her wits she scant could bring.
The tale of Ganymed the once did heare,
Whom Poets saine to tend the heauenly king,
She doubts may true of her Rogero be,
That was as comely and as faire as he.
As long as cysight could at all preuaile,
So long she viewd him still in all and part:
But when his distance made the fight to saile,
At least she followd him in mind and hart,
To sob, to sigh, to weepe, lament and waile,
She neuer leaues these chances ouerthwart.
And seeing plaine her loue and shee were parted,
She tooke Frontyno and away departed.
Now was Rogero mounted vp so hie,
He seemd to be a mote or little pricke,
For no man could distinguish him by eie,
Except his sight were passing sine and quicke:
All southerly this Griffeth horse doth flie,
(Was neuermade that feru'd man such a tricke)
But let him on his way, God speed him well,
For of Renaldo somewhat I must tell.
Who all the while with raging tempest striued,
Borne where himselfe nor no man else did know,
By cruell stormie winds and weather driued,
That daye; and nights surceased no: to blow:
At last in Scotland weary he arriued,
[...]mou [...] ferrest S [...]otland.
Where woods of Callidony first do show,
A famous wood wherein in times of old,
Braue deeds were done by ventrous knights & bold.
Here haue those famous knights great honour won,
At whose rare worth the world it selse did wonder,
Here were most valiant acts archieu'd and done,
By knights that dwelt there neare or far asunder,
And many a man hath here bene quite vndone,
Whose seeble force his enemie was vnder.
Here were, as proued is by ancient charter,
The famous Tristram, Lancelios and sir Arther.
At this same wood Renaldo from his fleet,
Well mounted on his Bayards backe did part,
He points his men at Barwicke him to meet,
The while himselfe alone with valiant heart,
Sometime on horse backe, sometime on his feete,
Doth march in mind to do some worthy part,
But seeing now the night came on so fast,
Vnto an Abbey he repaires at last.
Here you must begin to [...]
The Abbot and his Monks with comely grace,
As holy men of humane manners skilled,
Did welcome him, and in a little space,
With costly rate his emptic stomacke filled.
[...] straight enquired of the place,
What feates of armes had there bene late fulfilled,
And where a man by valiant acts may show,
I [...] his exploits deserue dispraise or no.
They said that in that wood and forrest, find
Aduentures strange and feates of armes he might,
But as the place, so are the actions blind,
That oft their doings neuer come to light.
But if (say they) we may perswade your mind,
Attempt an action worthy of a knight,
Where if you passe the perill and the paine,
Eternall same shall vnto you remaine.
For if you would performe an act indeed,
Whereby great name and honour may be wonne,
Then this would be the best and noblest deed,
That late or long time past was euer done:
Our Princes daughter standeth now in need,
Of great defence, a danger great to shunne,
Against a knight Lurcanio by name,
That seekes her life to take away and same.
This knight hath her vnto the king accused,
I thinke of malice rather then of right,
That he hath seene how she her selfe abused,
And closely tooke her louer vp by night.
This blodie [...] shanked be [...] is desanul' [...] this Iland [...] good whi [...].
Now by the lawes that in this land are vsed,
Except she haue a champion that by might
Within a month Lurcanio proue a lier,
She shall be straight condemned to the fier.
The Scottish law that breedeth all this strife,
Appoints that all of base or better sort,
That take a man except she be his wife,
And spends her time with him in Venus sport,
By cruell torment finish shall her life,
Except she find some knight that will support,
That she the hainous fact hath not committed,
But that in law she ought to be acquitted.
The King for faire Geneura takes great thought,
Gene [...]rad [...] ter to the k [...] Scots.
Both for her safetie and her estimation,
And seeks by all good meanes that may be wrought
For her defence, and maketh proclamation,
That by whose helpe from danger she is brought,
(Prouided he be one of noble nation)
Shall haue the goodly damsell for his wife,
With huings large to keepe him all his life.
But if within this month that now ensuth,
(So little time for her defence is left her)
No knight will come that will defend her truth,
Then friends and same, and life will be berest her,
This enterprise would much commend your youth,
The praise whereof would last a great while after:
And from Atlantas pillars vnto Inde,
A fairer Ladie you shall neuer finde.
Now then beside the honour and the praise,
To haue a state, may make you liue content,
The Princes loue (that helpeth many waies,
Knights [...] sworne to def [...] iustice with [...] sword, and [...] leeue the [...] sed.
Whose honour now is halse consum'd and spent.
Againe true knights should helpe at all as [...]aies,
When any harme to Ladies faire is ment.
The very law of knighthood doth commaund you,
To grau [...]t this aide that we do now demaund you.
Renaldo pausd, and after thus he spake,
Why then (said he) must this faire damsell die,
That for her true and secret louers sake,
Did condescend within his armes to lie?
Accurst be they that such a law did make,
Accurst be they that meane to liue thereby,
Nay rather point a punishment and paine
For such as do their louers true disdaine.
If faire Geneura had her friend or no,
I stand not now the matter to descide,
Yea I would praise her had she done it so,
That by her foes it had not bene espide.
Be as be may, my meaning is to go
To fight for her, if I may haue a guide
That will but shew me where is her accuser,
And I shall quickly proue he doth abuse her.
I know not if the fact she haue committed,
Nor can I say in this the certaine sure:
But this I say, it ought to remitted,
Much rather then she should distresse endure.
I further say, they were but meanly witted,
That did so straight a statute first procure.
I also say, this law they ought recall,
In place thereof a better to enstall.
Sith like desire the fancies doth possesse,
Both of the male and of the female gender,
[...] men should it a greater, withstanding Renaldos [...]on,
To do that thing that fooles count great excesse,
And quench the flame that Cupid doth engender,
To grant the men more scope, the women lesse,
Is law for which no reason we can render.
Men vsing many neuer are ashamed,
But women vsing one or two are blamed.
This law I say is partiall and naught,
And doth to women plaine annd open wrong,
I trust in God they shall be better taught,
[...] this point I ke many are [...] religion.
And that this law shall be reuokt ere long.
The Abbot and his Monks in word and thought,
Allowd Renaldos speech, both old and yong:
They all condemne the law, and partly blame
The king that may and mendeth not the same.
Next morning when Renaldo doth perceaue
The Sunne appeare, and starres their heads to hide,
He thanks them for his cheare, and taketh leaue,
And takes a target-bearer for his guide,
For feare left vnknowne paths should him deceaue.
Himselfe all armed doth on Bayard ride,
And to the Scottish court he goes a stranger,
For to defend the damsell faire from danger.
And for they thought to take a way more nie,
They leaue the common way a mile or twaine,
When suddenly they heard a piteous crie,
Well like to one that feared to be slaine.
In hast they spurre their horses by and by,
Along the vale, and looking downe the plaine,
A maide betweene two murderers they saw,
That meant to take her life against all law.
The caitises put the damsell in great feare,
And shewd that they were come to end her dayes,
Which made her weepe, and shed full many a teare,
To moue their minds she trieth many wayes:
And though the fact a while they did forbeare,
Yet now they had remoued all delayes,
When as Renaldo came vnto her aid,
And made the malefactors fore afraid.
Away they sled and left the wench alone,
For dread of death appald and fore affrighted,
Who all her cause of danger and of mone,
Vnto Renaldo straight would haue recited,
But so great haft he maketh to be gone,
He gaue no eare, nor from his horse alighted,
But to ensue the iourney first assignd him,
He causd the guide to take her vp behind him.
And now on horsebacke marking well her face,
And marking more her gesture and behauiour,
Her pleasing speech, and modest sober grace,
She now hath wonne a great deale more his fauour,
And after he had rode a little space,
To tell her hard aduenture he would haue her:
And she began with humble voice and low,
As more at large hereafter I will show.

In this fourth booke, whereas dissembling is praised, we may note in what sort and with what persons it is allowable,Morall. seeing generally in it selfe it is a most vnnoble and vnworthy qualitie. In that Bradamant by the ring doth discouer Atlantas inchantments, and frustrate all his purpose, we nay note, how reason tempered with courage, prevailes to the o­verthrow of all deceits and subtill practices. In Rogero, that was caried away vnawares by the winged horse, we haue an example to make vs take heed of rash & vnaduised enterprises. In Renaldos speech, condemning the rigor of the law, that adultery was punished by death in women rather then in men, as we may with him instly mislike such partialitie in lawes: so we may note the manner and phrase of speech of yong gentlemen (as Renaldo was) that make so light of their sweet sinne of lechery, as they call it, not regarding how sower heauy punishment hangs over it, and what a foule repr [...]ch it is to both sexes. And so much for the Morall.

For the Historie of this booke, little is to be said of the time of Charles the great, because the booke digresseth to otherHistorie. matters: but whereas mention is made of Calledon forrest in Scotland, and of King Arthur his knights, I thought it not a­misse, as in the former booke I told you, what I thought of Merlin that was Arthurs great counseller, so now somewhat to touch, as the space will permit, the reports that are true and probable of king Arthur. It is generally written and beleeued that this Arthur was a notable valiant and religious Prince, and that he governed this Iland in that rude age with great love of his people, and honour of forraine nations, he instituted an order of the knights of the round table onely (as it seemes) of some meriment of hunting, or some pleasant exercises. He was himself of stature very tall, as appeares by the proportion of him left (as they say here in our countrey of Somerset) in a doore of a Church by the famous Abbey [Page 30] of Glassenbury, in which Abbey his wife Queene Gueneuer was buried, and within our memory taken vp in a coffin, with her body and face in shew plainly to be discerned, saue the very tip of her nose, as diuers dwelling there about haue reported. But what manner of death king Arthur himselfe died, it is doubtfull, and that which they report seemes meerly fabulous, namely that he was caried away in a barge from a bridge called Pomperles, neare the said Glassenbury, and so conueyed by [...]no [...]ne persons, (or by the Ladie of the Lake) with promise to bring him backe againe one day! vpon which it seems the foolish people grounded their vaine saying (King Arthur comes againe.)

For my part I confesse my selfe to haue bin more inquisitiue of such trifles then a wiser man would, and viewing that bridge and all that countrey about Glassenbury, I see good reason to guesse, that all that countrie which now we call our moores (and is reduced to profitable and fertill ground) was sometime recouered from the sea, and might be nauigable vp to Glassenbury in those times: and so I suppose the said King being drowned there by some mishap, and being well be­loued of the people, some fained (to content their minds) that he was but gone a little way, and would come again: as the Senate of Rome, hauing killed Romulus for his tyrannie, deuised a tale of I know not what [...] to make the people beleeue he was turned to a god.Camd. in Britania was Somerses. M. Camden the best antiquarie of our time, writeth that king Arthurs body was taken vp at the foresaid Glassenbury in the time of king Henrie the second, which indeed is most credible, as he there proueth. But this I conclude, that this Prince was so worthy a man in his time, as not onely true histories haue greatly recommen­ded to the posteritie, but almost all Poeticall writers that haue bin since, haue mentioned this famous Prince Arthur of England, as a person of whom no notable exploit was incredible. And thus much for king Arthur.

For the Allegorie of this booke,Allegorie. much might be said of Atlant, of his horse and his shield, but I will onely touch what I thinke will be thought most worth the noting, and let passe the rest for each mans priuat conceit. Atlant by many of his ge­stures and actions here specified, may signifie Cupid, or that fond fancie that we call loue: and whereas he takes vp such braue captains and souldiers, as well as women and weaklings: it seemes consonant to that pretie fantastik verse of Ouid:

Militat omnis amans & habet sua castra Cupido.
All louers warriers are, and Cupid hath his campe.

Further, the wings of this strange beast called the Griphith horse, agree with Petrarks description of Cupids wings:

Sopra gli homeri hauea sol due grand'ali, di color mille.
Vpon his shoulders were two mightie wings, of thousand colours.

Atlant takes, and imprisons those he takes. Loue is as close and inextricable a prison as his.

The wayes to Atlants castle are described to be craggie, headlong, and vnpleasant. Such be the wayes of that passion. The castle is said to be placed in the middle of a rockie mountaine [...]losse [...] in sunder: by which is meant, that this folly we speake of possesseth vs, and dwels in vs most of all about the middle of our age, as Dant saith,

Nel mezzo del camin di nostra vita,
Mi retrouai per vna selua oscura,
Che la dritta via era smarrita.
While yet my life was in her middle race,
I found, I wandred in a darkesome wood,
The right way lost with mine vnstedy pace.

This is that wandring wood, of which the dolefull Petrarke complaines so often in those his sweete mourning sonets, in which he seemes to haue comprehended all the passions that all men of that humour haue felt. And this he saith of it:

Ond' Io son fatto vn' animal siluestro,
Che co pie vaghi solitari e lassi,
Porto il cor graue, e gli occhi humidi e bassi,
Al mondo che e per me vn deserto.
Thus I am growne a sauage beast and vyld,
That still with wandring steps and solitarie,
A heauy heart and watred eyes do carie,
About the world which is my forrest wyld.

Also whereas it is said what plentie of all pleasures they had in Atlantas castle, it signifieth, that delicious fare and such [...]picuriall and idle life, are the chiefe nurses of this fond affection, according to that saying of Ouid,

Otia si tollas periere cupidinis arcus,
Contemptae [...]ue iacent & sine luce faces.
Take idlenesse away, and out of dout
Cupids bow breakes, and all his lamps go out.

Finally, the fortification of the castle, the fuming pots of stone, the situation and height, and euery thing that is said of the man, the horse, the house, the shield, are so easie to vnderstand in allegoricall sence, as I thinke it needlesse to pro­ceed any further in this matter.

For allusions,Allusion. I find little to be said, sa [...]e of Geneura her selfe, which I will reserue to the next books.




Dalinda tels what sleights her Duke deuised,
To get with faire Geneura reputation:
Lurcanio of his brothers fall aduised,
Accus'th her publikely of fornication.
A Knight vnknowne in armour blacke disguised,
Comes and withstands Lurcanios accusation,
Vntill Renaldo made all matters plaine,
By whom the vniust Duke was iustly slaine.
WE see the rest of liuing creatures all,
Looke more at Large in the end of the booke, of this morall.
Both birds and beasts that on the earth do dwell,
Liue most in peace, or if they hap to brall,
The male and female still agreeth well.
The fierce, the faint, the greater not the small,
Against the law of nature will rebell.
The [...]auage Lions, Beares and Buls most wyld,
Vnto their females shew themselues most myld.
What fiend of hell, what rage raignes here so rife,
Disturbing still the state of humane harts?
How comes it that we find twixt man and wife,
S Te [...]. c [...]lleth marriage be t [...] Syn [...]a of the bed vndefiled.
Continuall iarres bred by iniurious parts?
The vndefiled bed is filde by strife,
And teares that grow of words vnkind and thwarts:
Nay oft all care and feare is so exiled,
Their guiltie hands with blood haue bene defiled.
No doubt they are accurst and past all grace,
And such a [...] haue of God nor man no feare,
That dare to strike a damsell in the face,
Or of her head to minish but a haire:
But who with knife or poison would vnlace
Their line of life, or flesh in peeces teare,
No man, nor made of flesh and blood I deeme him,
But sure some hound of hell I do esteeme him.
Such were these theeues that would the damsell kill,
That by Renaldos comming was recouered:
They secretly had brought her downe the hill,
In hope their fact could neuer be discouered,
Yet such is God, so good his gracious will,
That when she looked least she was deliuered,
And with a chearfull heart that late was sorie,
She doth begin to tell the wofull storie.
Good sir (said she) my conscience to discharge,
The greatest tyrannie I shall you tell,
That erst in Thebes, in Athens or in Arge,
Was euer wrought,
In these th [...] ties diuers [...] tyrannies [...] bene co [...]
or where worst tyrants dwell:
My voice and skill would faile to tell at large
The filthy fact, for I beleeue it well,
Vpon this countrey Phoebus shines more cold,
Because he doth such wicked acts behold.
Nee tam [...] equos tyrie [...] iungit ab [...]
Men seeke we see, and haue in euery age,
To foile their foes, and tread them in the dust:
But there to wreake their ranco [...] and their rage,
Where they are lou'd, is foule and too vniust.
Loue should preuaile, iust anger to asswage,
If loue bring death, whereto can women trust?
Yet loue did breed my danger and my feare,
As you shall heare if you will giue me eare.
For entring first into my tender spring
Of youthfull yeares, vnto the court I came,
And serued there the daughter of our king,
And kept a place of honor with good fame,
Till loue (alas that loue such care should bring)
Enuide my stare, and sought to do me shame.
Loue made the Duke of Alban seeme to me,
The furest wight that erst mine eye did see.
And (for I thought he lou'd me all aboue)
I bent my selfe to hold and loue him best,
But now I find that hard it is to proue,
By sight or speech what bides in secret brest,
While I (poore I) did thus beleeue and loue,
He gets my bodie bed and all the rest.
Nor thinking this might breed my mistres danger,
I vsd this practise in Geneuras chamber.
Where all the things of greatest value lay,
And whore Geneura sleepes her selfe so metime,
There at a window we did finde a way,
In secret sort to couer this our crime:
Here when my loue and I were bent to play,
I taught him by a scale of cord to clime,
And at the window I my selfe would stand,
And let the ladder downe into his hand.
So oft we meete togither at this sport,
As faire Geneuras absence giues vs leaue,
Who vsd to other chambers to resort
In summer time, and this for heat to leaue:
And this we carried in so secret sort,
As none there was our doings did perceaue,
For why, this window standeth out of sight,
Where none do come by day nor yet by night.
Twixt vs this vse continu'd many dayes,
Yea many months we vsd this priuie traine,
Loue set my heart on fire so many wayes,
That still my liking lasted to my paine.
I might haue found by certaine strange delayes,
That he but little lou'd and much did faine,
For all his sleights were not so closely couered,
But that they might full easly be discouered.
At last my Duke did seeme enflamed sore,
One faire Geneura: neither can I tell,
If now this loue began or was before,
That I did come to court with her to dwell.
But looke if I were subiect to his lore,
And looke if he my loue requited well,
[...]ollicie vsed [...]time to woo [...]aid to win [...]stres.
He askt my aid herein no whit ashamed,
To tell me how of her he was enflamed.
Not all of loue, but partly of ambition,
He beares in hand his minde is onely bent,
Because of her great state and hie condition,
To haue her for his wife is his intent:
He nothing doubteth of the kings permission,
Had he obtaind Geneuras free assent.
Ne was it hard for him to take in hand,
That was the second person in the land.
He sware to me, if I would be so kind
His hie attempt to further and assist,
That at his hands I should great fauour finde,
And of the king procure me what me list:
How he would euer keepe it in his mind,
And in his former loue to me persist,
And notwithstanding wife and all the rest,
I should be sure that he would loue me best.
I straight consented to his fond request,
As readie his commandment to obay,
And thinking still my time emploied best,
When I had pleasd his fancie any way:
And when I found a time then was I prest,
To talke of him, and good of him to say.
I vsed all my art, my wit, and paine,
Geneuras loue and liking to obtaine.
God knowth how glad I was to worke his will,
How diligent I followd his direction,
I spar'd no time, no trauell, nor no skill,
To this my Duke to kindle her affection:
But alwayes this attempt succeeded ill,
Loue had her heart alreadie in subiection,
A comely knight did faire Geneura please,
Come to this countrie from beyond the seas.
From Italy for seruice (as I heare)
Vnto the court he and his brother came,
In tourneys and in tilt he had no peere,
All Britain soone was filled with his fame.
Our king did loue him well and hold him deere,
And did by princely gifts confirme the same.
Faire castels, townes, and lordships, him he gaue,
And made him great, such power great princes haue.
Our Soueraigne much, his daughter likt him more,
And Ariodant this worthy knight is named,
Aetna and Vesuuio, two mountaines that did cast out flames,
So braue in deeds of armes himselfe he bore,
No Ladie of his loue need be ashamed:
The hill of Sicil burneth not so sore,
Nor is the mount Vesuuio so inflamed,
As Ariodantes heart was set on fire,
Geneuras beautie kindling his desire.
His certaine loue by signe most certaine found,
Did cause my sute vnwillingly was hard,
Vt ametis a [...] bilu esto.
She well perceiu'd his loue sincere and sound,
Enclining to his sute with great regard,
In vaine I seeke my Dukes loue to expound,
The more I seeke to make the more I mard.
For while with words I seeke to praise & grace him
No lesse with workes she striueth to deface him.
Thus being oft repulst (so euill sped I,)
To my too much beloued Duke I went,
And told him how her heart was fixt alredie,
How on the stranger all her mind was bent:
And praid him now sith there was no remedie,
That to surcease his sute he would consent,
For Ariodant so lou'd the princely wench,
That Neptunes floods vnneth his flames cold quench
When Polynesso (so the Duke we call)
This tale vnpleasant oftentime had hard,
And found himselfe his likel'hood verie small,
When with my words her deeds he had compard,
Greeu'd with repulse, and greeued there withall,
To see this stranger thus to be prefard.
The loue that late his heart so sore had burned,
Was cooled all, and into hatred turned.
In [...]ding by some vile and subtil traine,
To part Geneura from her faithfull louer,
And plant so great mislike betweene them twaine,
Yet with so cunning shew the same to couer,
That her good name he will so foule distaine,
Al [...]e nor dead she neuer shall recouer.
But lest he might in this attempt be thwarted,
To none at all his secret he imparted.
Now thus resolu'd (Dalinda faire) quoth he,
Sword [...].
(I so am cald) you know though trees be topt,
The [...].
And throwded low, yet sprout yong shoots we see,
And issue from that head so lately lopt:
So in my loue it fareth now with me.
Though by repulse cut short and shrewdly cropt,
The pared tops such buds of loue do render,
That still I proue new passions do engender.
N [...] do I deeme so deare the great delight,
As I disdaine I should be so reiect,
And lest this griefe should ouercome me q [...]ight,
Because I faile to bring it to effect,
To please my fond conceit this very night,
I pray thee deare to do as I direct:
When faire Geneura to her bed is gone,
Take thou the clothes she ware and put them on.
As she is wont her golden haire to dresse,
In stately sort to wind it on her wire,
So you her person liuely to expresse,
May dresse your owne and weare her head attire,
Her gorgets and her iewels rich no lesse,
You may put on t'accomplish my desire.
And when vnto the window I ascend,
I will my comming there you do attend.
Thus I may passe my fancies foolish fit,
And thus (quoth he) my selfe I would deceiue.
And I that had no reason nor no wit,
His shamefull drift (though open) to perceiue:
Did weare my mistresse robes that seru'd me fit,
And stood at window, there him to receiue.
And of the fraud I was no whit aware,
Till that fell out that caused all my care.
Of late twixt him and Ariodant had past,
About Geneura faire these words or such,
(For why there was good friendship in times past
Betweene them two, till loue their hearts did such)
The Duke such kind of speeches out did cast,
He said to Ariodant, he marueld much,
That hauing alwayes lou'd and well regarded him,
That he againe so thanklesly rewarded him.
I kn [...]w you see (for needs it must be seene)
The good consent and matrimoniall loue,
That long betweene Geneura and me hath beene,
For whom I meane ere long the king to moue.
Why should you fondly thrust your selfe betweene?
Why should you roue your reach so faire aboue?
For if my c [...]e were yours I would forbeare,
Or if I knew that you so loued were.
And I much more (the other straight replies)
Do maruell you sir Duke are so vnkind,
That know our loue, and see it with your eies,
(Except that wilfulnesse haue made you blind)
That no man can more sured knots deuise,
Then her to me, and me to her do bind,
Into this sute so rashly are intruded,
Still finding from all hope you are excluded.
Why beare you not to me the like respect,
As my good will requireth at your hand?
Since that our loue is growne to this effect,
We meane to knit our selues in weddings ban [...]
Which to fulfill ere long I do expect,
For know I am (though not in rents or land)
Yet in my Princes grace no whit inferiour,
And in his daughters greatly your superiour.
Well (said the Duke) errors are hardly moued,
That loue doth breed in vnaduised brest.
Each thinkes himselfe to be the best beloued,
And yet but one of vs is loued best.
Wherefore to haue the matter plainly proued,
Which should proceed in loue, and which shold rest,
Let vs agree that victor he remaine,
That of her liking sheweth signes most plaine.
I will be bound to you by solemne oth,
Your secrets all and counsell to conceale,
So you likewise will plight to me your troth,
The thing I shew you neuer to reueale.
To trie the matter thus they greed both,
And from this doome hereafter not repeale:
But on the Bible first they were deposed,
That this their speech should neuer be disclosed.
And first the stranger doth his state reueale,
And tell the truth in hope to end the strife,
How she had promist him in wo and weale,
To liue with him, and loue him all her life:
And how with writing with her hand and seale,
She had confirmed she would be his wife,
Except she were forbidden by her father,
For then to liue vnmarride she had rather.
And furthermore he nothing doubts (he said)
Of his good seruice so plaine proofe to show,
As that the king shall nothing be afraid,
On such a Knight his daughter to bestow:
And how in this he needeth little aid,
As finding still his fauour greater grow,
He doubts not he will grant his liking after
That he shall know it pleaseth so his daughter.
And thus you see so sound stands mine estate,
That I my selfe in thought can wish no more,
Who seekes her now is sure to come too late,
For that he seekes is granted me before,
Now onely rests in marridge holy state,
To knit the knot that must dure euermore.
And for her praise, I need not to declare it,
As knowing none to whom I may compare it.
Thus Ariodant a tale most true declared,
And what reward he hoped for his paine.
But my false Duke that him had fouly snared,
And found by my great folly such a traine,
Doth sweare all this might no way be compared
With his, no though himselfe did iudge remaine,
For I (quoth he) can shew signes so expresse,
As you your selfe inferiour shall confesse.
Alas (quoth he) I see you do not know
How cunningly these women can dissemble,
They least to loue where they make greatest show,
And not to be the thing they most resemble,
But other fauours I receiue I trow,
When as we two do secretly assemble,
As I will tell you (though I should conceale it)
Because you promise neuer to reueale it.
The truth is this, that I full oft haue seene
Her iuory corpes, and bene with her all night,
And naked laine her naked armes betweene,
And full enioyne the fruites of loues delight:
Now iudge who hath in greatest fauour beene,
To which of vs she doth pertaine in right,
And then giue place, and yeeld to me mine owne,
Sith by iust proofes I now haue made it knowne.
Iust proofes? (quoth Ariodant) nay shamefull lies,
Nor will I credit giue to any word:
Is this the finest tale you can deuise?
What, hop'd you that with this I could be dord?
No, no, but sith a slander foule doth rise
By thee to her, maintaine it with thy sword,
I call thee lying traitor to thy face,
And meane to proue it in this present place.
The Duello a [...] not bound [...]swer a chal­leng for iustifica­tion of any report [...] can proue it [...] true.
Tush (quoth the Duke) it were a foolish part,
For you to fight with me that am your frend,
Sith plaine to shew without deceit or art,
As much as I haue said I do intend.
These words did gripe poore Ariodantes hart,
Downe all his limbes a shiuering doth descend,
And still he stood with eyes cast downe on ground,
Like one would fall into a deadly sound.
With wofull mind, with pale and chearlesse face,
With trembling voice that came from bitter thought,
He said he much desir'd to see this place,
Where such strange feats and miracles were wrought.
Hath faire Geneura granted you this grace,
That I (quoth he) so oft in vaine haue sought?
Now sure except I see it in my vew,
I neuer will beleeue it can be trew.
The Duke did say he would with all his hart
Both shew him where and how the thing was done,
And straight from him to me he doth depart,
Whom to his purpose wholy he had wonne:
With both of vs he playth so well his part,
That both of vs thereby were quite vndone.
First he tels him that he would haue him placed
Among some houses falne and quite defaced.
Some ruynd houses stood opposd direct
Against the window where he doth ascend,
But Ariodant discreetly doth suspect
That this false Duke some mischiefe did intend,
And thought that all did tend to this effect,
By trechery to bring him to his end,
That sure he had deuised this pretence,
With mind to kill him ere he parted thence.
Thus though to see this sight he thought it long,
Yet tooke he care all mischiefe to preuent,
And if perhap they offer force or wrong,
By force the same for to resist he ment.
He had a brother valiant and strong,
Lurcanio cald, and straight for him he sent,
Not doubting but alone by his assistance,
Against twice twentie men to make resistance.
He bids his brother take his sword in hand,
And go into a place that he would guide,
And in a corner closely there to stand,
Aloofe from tother threescore paces wide,
The cause he would not let him vnderstand,
But prayes him there in secret sort to bide,
Vntill such time he hapt to heare him call,
Else (if he lou'd him) not to stirre at all.
His brother would not his request denie,
And so went Ariodant into his place,
And vndiscouerd closely there did lie,
Till hauing looked there a little space,
The craftie Duke to come he might descrie,
That meant the chast Geneura to deface,
Who hauing made to me his wonted signes,
I let him downe the ladder made of lines.
The gowne I ware was white, and richly set
With aglets, pearle, and lace of gold well garnished,
My stately tresses couerd with a net
Of beaten gold most pure and brightly varnished.
Not thus content, the vaile aloft I let,
Which only Princes weare: thus stately harnished,
And vnder Cupids banner bent to fight,
All vnawares I stood in all their sight.
For why Lurcanio either taking care,
Lest Ariodant should in some danger go,
Or that he sought (as all desirous are)
The counsels of his dearest friend to know,
Close out of sight by secret steps and ware,
Hard at his heeles his brother followd so,
Till he was nearer come by fiftie paces,
So that he stood within ten paces of his brother.
And there againe himselfe he newly places.
But I that thought no ill, securely came
Vnto the open window as I said,
For once or twice before I did the same,
And had no hurt, which made me lesse afraid:
I cannot boast (except I boast of shame)
When in her robes I had my selfe araid,
Me thought before I was not much vnlike her,
But certaine now I seemed very like her.
[...] that stood so farre aloofe,
Was more deceiu'd by distance of the place,
A [...]d str [...]ght beleeu'd against his owne behoofe,
Seeing her clothes that he had seene her face.
Now [...]et those iudge that partly know by proofe,
The wofull plight of Ariodantes case,
When Po [...]ness [...] came by faithlesse frend,
In both their sights the ladder to ascend.
I that his comming willingly did wait,
And he once come thought nothing went amisse,
Embrac'd him kindly at the first receit,
His lips, his cheeks, and all his face did kisse,
And he the more to colour his deceit,
Did vse me kinder then he had ere this.
This sight much care to Ariodante brought,
Thinking Geneura with the Duke was nought.
The griefe and sorrow sinketh so profound
Into his heart, he straight resolues to die,
He puts the pummell of his sword on ground,
And meanes himselfe vpon the point to lie:
Which when Iur [...]anio saw and plainly found,
That all this while was closely standing by,
And P [...]messos comming did discerne,
Though who it was he neuer yet could learne.
He held his brother for the present time,
That else himselfe for griefe had surely slaine,
Who had he not stood night and come betime,
His words and speeches had bene all in vaine.
What shall (quoth he) a faithlesse womans crime,
Cause you to die or put your selfe to paine?
Not all women [...] unlesse women
Nay let them go, and curst be all their kind,
Ay borne like clouds with eu'ry blast of wind.
You rather should some iust reuenge deuise,
As she deserues to bring her to confusion:
Sith we haue plainly seene with both our eyes,
Her filthy fact appeare without collusion.
Loue those that loue againe, if you be wise,
For of my counsell this is the conclusion,
Put vp your sword against your selfe prepared,
And let her sinne be to the king declared.
His brothers words in Ariodantes mind
Seeme for the time to make some small impression,
But still the carelesse wound remaind behind,
Despare had of his heart the full possession.
And though he knew the thing he had assignd,
For [...] the [...] may be by the r [...]es of Co [...]enre [...]gi [...]
Contrary to Christend knights profession:
Yet here on earth he torment felt so sore,
In hell it selfe he thought there was no more.
An [...]'eeming now after a little pause,
Vnto his brothers counsell to consent,
He fro [...] the court next day himselfe withdrawes,
And makes not one priuie to his intent,
His brother and the Duke both knew the cause,
But neither knew the place whereto he went:
Diuers thereof most diuersly did iudge,
Some by good will perswaded, some by grudge.
Seu'n dayes entire about for him they sought,
Seu'n dayes entire no newes of him was found,
The eight a peasant to Geneura brought
These newes, that in the sea he saw him drownd:
Not that the waters were with tempest wrought,
Nor that his ship was stricken on the ground.
How then? Forsooth (quoth he) and therewith wept,
Downe from a rocke into the sea he lept.
And further he vnto Geneura told,
How he met Ariodant vpon the way,
Who made him go with him for to behold
The wofull act that he would do that day.
And charged him the matter to vnfold,
And to his Princes daughter thus to say,
Had he bene blind, he had full happie beene,
His death should shew that he too much had seene.
There stands a rocke against the Irish ile,
From thence into the sea himselfe he cast:
I stood and looked after him a while,
The height and steepnesse made me sore agast.
I thence haue traueld hither many a mile,
To shew you plainly how the matter past.
When as the clowne this tale had told and verifide,
Geneuras heart was not a little terrifide.
O Lord what wofull words by her were spoken,
Laid all alone vpon her restlesse bed!
Ouid Iu [...] tune fle [...] sinus at pri [...] planxi.
Oft did she strike her guiltlesse brest in token
Of that great griefe that inwardly was bred:
Her golden tresses all were rent and broken,
Recounting still those wofull words he sed,
How that the cause his cruell death was such,
Was onely this, that he had seene too much.
The rumor of his death spred farre and neare,
And how for sorrow he himselfe had killed,
The King was sad, the court of heauy cheare,
By Lords and Ladies many teares were spilled.
His brother most, as louing him most deare,
Had so his mind with sorrow ouerfilled,
That he was scantly able to refraine,
With his owne hands himselfe for to haue slaine.
And oftentimes repeating in his thought,
The filthy fact he saw the other night,
Which (as you heard) the Duke and I had wrought,
I little looking it would come to light,
And that the same his brothers death had brought,
On faire Geneura he doth wreake his spight,
Not caring (so did wrath him ouerwhelme)
To leese the kings good will and all his realm [...],
The king and nobles sitting in the hall,
Right pensiue all for Ariodants destruction,
Lurcanio vndertakes before them all,
To giue them perfect notice and instruction,
Who was the cause of Ariodantes fall:
And hauing made some little introduction,
He said it was vnchast Geneuras crime,
That made him kill himselfe before his time.
What should I seeke to hide his good intent?
His loue was such as greater none could be,
He hop'd to haue your highnesse free assent,
When you his value and his worth should see:
But while a plaine and honest way he went,
Behold he saw another climbe the tree,
And in the midst of all his hope and sute,
Another tooke the pleasure and the frute.
He further said, not that he had surmised,
But that his eyes had seene Geneura stand,
And at a window as they had deuised,
Let downe a ladder to her louers hand,
But in such sort he had himselfe disguised,
That who it was he could not vnderstand.
And for due proofe of this his accusation,
He bids the combat straight by proclamation.
How sore the king was grieu'd to heare these newes,
I leaue it as a thing not hard to guesse,
Lurcanio plaine his daughter doth accuse,
Of whom the King did looke for nothing lesse:
And this the more his feare and care renewes,
That on this point the lawes are so expresse,
Except by combat it be prou'd a lie,
Needs must Geneura be condemnd to die.
How hard the Scottish law is in this case,
I do not doubt but you haue heard it told,
How she that doth another man embrace,
Beside her husband, be she yong or old,
Must die, except within two fortnights space,
She find a champion stout that will vphold,
That vnto her no punishment is due,
But he that doth accuse her is vntrue.
The King (of crime that thinkes Geneura cleare)
Makes offer her to wed to any knight,
That will in armes defend his daughter deare,
And proue her innocent in open fight.
Yet for all this no champion doth appeare,
Such feare they haue of this Lurcanios might.
One gazeth on another as they stand,
But none of them the combat takes in hand.
And further by ill fortune and mischance,
Her brother Zerbin now is absent thence,
And gone to Spaine (I thinke) or else to France,
Who were he here, she could not want defence,
Or if perhap so luckie were her chance,
To send him notice of her need from hence,
Had she the presence of her noble brother,
She should not need the aide of any other.
The King that meanes to make a certaine triall,
If faire Geneura guiltie be or no,
(For still she stiffly stood in the deniall,
Of this that wrought her vndeserued wo)
Examines all her maids, but they reply all,
That of the matter nothing they did know.
Which made me seeke for to preuent the danger,
The Duke and I might haue about the stranger.
And thus for him more then my selfe afraid,
(So faithfull loue to this false Duke I bare)
I gaue him notice of these things and said,
That he had need for both of vs beware.
He praisd my constant loue, and farther praid,
That I would credit him, and take no care,
He points two men (but both to me vnknowne)
To bring me to a castle of his owne.
Now sir, I thinke you find by this effect,
How soundly I did loue him from my hart,
And how I prou'd by plaine course and direct,
My meaning was not any wayes to start:
Now marke if he to me bare like respect,
And marke if he requited my desart.
Alas how shall a silly wench attaine,
By louing true to be true lou'd againe?
This wicked Duke vngratefull and periured,
Beginneth now of me to haue mistrust,
His guiltie conscience could not be assured,
How to conceale his wicked acts vniust,
Except my death (though causlesse) be procured,
So hard his heart, so lawlesse was his lust:
He said he would me to his castle send,
But that same castle should haue bene mine end.
He wild my guides when they were past that hill,
And to the thicke a little way descended,
That there (to quite my loue) they should me kill,
Which as you say they to haue done intended,
Had not your happie comming stop their will,
That (God and you be thankt) I was defended.
This tale Dalinda to Renaldo told,
And all the while their iourney on they hold.
This strange aduenture luckily befell
To good Renaldo, for that now he found,
By this Dalinda that this tale did tell,
Geneuras mind vnspotted cleare and sound,
And now his courage was confirmed well,
That wanted erst a true and certaine ground:
For though before for her he meant to fight,
A iust quarell is a great encouragement in fight.
Yet rather now for to defend the right.
To great S. Andrews towne he maketh hast,
Whereas the King was set with [...]ll his traine,
Most carefull waiting for the trumpets blast,
That must pronounce his daughters ioy or paine,
But now Renaldo spurred had so fast,
He was arriu'd within a mile or twaine,
And through the village as he then was riding,
He met a page that brought them fresher tiding.
How there was come a warriour all disguised,
That meant to proue Lurcanio said vntrew,
His colours and his armour well deuised,
In manner and in making very new:
And though that sundry sundrily surmised,
Yet who it was for certaine no man knew:
His page demaunded of his masters name,
Did sweare he neuer heard it since he came.
Now came Renaldo to the citie wall,
And at the gate but little time he staid,
The porter was so readie at his call:
Because of the [...] that [...].
But poore Dalinda now grew sore afraid,
Renaldo bids her not to feare at all,
For why he would her pardon beg he said:
So thrusting in among the thickest rout,
He saw them stand on scaffolds all about.
It straight was told him by the standers by,
How there was thither come a stranger knight,
That meant Geneuras innocence to try,
And that already was begun the fight:
And how the greene that next the wall did lie,
Was raild about of purpose for the sight.
This newes did make Renaldo hasten in,
And leaue behind Dalinda at her Inne.
He told her he would come againe ere long,
And spurs his horse that made an open lane,
He pierced in the thickest preasse among,
Whereas these valiant knights had giu'n and tane,
Full many strokes, with sturdy hand and strong,
Lurcanio thinks to bring Geneuras bane,
The tother meanes the Ladie to defend,
Whom (though vnknowne) they fauor & commend.
There was Duke Polynesso brauely mounted,
Vpon a cour [...]er of an exc'lent race,
Sixe knights among the better sort accounted,
On foote in armes do marshall well the place.
The Duke by office all the rest surmounted,
High Constable (as alwayes in such case)
Who of Geneuras danger was as glad,
As all the rest were sorrowfull and sad.
Now had Renaldo made an open way,
And was arriued there in luckie howre,
To cause the combatto surcease and stay,
Which these two knights applide with al their powre.
Renaldo in the court appeard that day,
Of noble chiualrie the very flowre,
For first the Princes audience he praid,
Then with great expectation thus he said.
Send (noble Prince) quoth he, send by and by,
And cause forthwith that they surcease the fight,
For know, that which so ere of these doth die,
It certaine is he dies against all right.
One thinks he tels the truth, and tels a lie,
And is deceiu'd by error in his sight,
And looke what cause his brothers death procured,
That very same hath him to fight allured.
The tother of a nature good and kind,
Not knowing if he hold the right or no,
To die or to defend her hath assignd,
Left so rare beautie should he spilled so.
I harmelesse hope to saue the faultlesse mind:
And those that mischiefe mind to worke them wo,
But first ô Prince to stay the fight giue order,
Before my speech proceedeth any farder.
Renaldos person with the tale he told,
Mou'd so the king, that straight without delay,
The knights were bidden both their hands to hold,
The combat for a time was causd to stay,
Then he againe with voice and courage bold,
The secret of the matter doth bewray;
Declaring plaine how Polynessos lecherie
Had first contriu'd and now betrayd his trecherie.
And proffreth of this speech to make a proofe,
By combat hand to hand with sword and speare:
The Duke was cald that stood nor farre aloofe,
And scantly able to conceale his feare;
He first denies, as was for his behoofe,
And straight to battell both agreed were,
They both were armd, the place before was ready,
Now must they fight there could be no remedy.
How was the king, how were the people glad,
That faire Geneura faultlesse there did stand,
As Gods great goodnesse now reuealed had,
And should be proued by Renaldos hand.
All thought the Duke of mind and manners bad,
The proudst and cruelst man in all the land,
It likely was as euery one surmised,
That this deceit by him should be deuised.
Now Polynesso stands with doubtfull brest,
With fainting heart, with pale dismayed face,
Their trumpets blew, they set their speares in rest,
Renaldo commeth on a mightie pace,
For at this fight he finish will the feast,
And where to strike him he designes a place:
His very first encounter was so fierce,
Renaldos speare the tothers sides did pierce.
And hauing ouerthrowne the Duke by force,
As one vnable so great strokes to bide,
And cast him cleane sixe paces from his horse,
Himselfe alights and th'others helme vntide,
Who making no resistance like a corse,
With faint low voice for mercie now he cride,
And plaine confest with this his latter breath,
The fault that brought him this deserued death.
No sooner had he made this last confession,
But that his life did faile him with his voy [...]e.
Geneuras double scape of foule oppression,
In life and fame did make the King reioyce:
In lieu of her to leese his crownes possession,
He would haue wisht, if such had bene his choice:
To leese his realme he could haue bene no sadder:
To get it lost he could haue bene no gladder.
The combat done, Renaldo straight vntide
His beauer, when the King that knew his face,
Gaue thanks to God that did so well prouide,
So doubtlesse helpe in such a dangerous case.
That vnknowne knight stood all this while aside,
And saw the matters passed in the place,
And eu'ry one did muse and maruell much,
What wight it was whose curtesie was such.
The king did aske his name because he ment,
With kingly gifts his seruice to reward.
Affirming plainly that his good intent,
Deserued thanks and very great regard.
The knight with much intreatie did assent,
And to disarme himselfe he straight prepard,
But who it was if you vouchsafe to looke,
I will declare it in another booke.

The very beginning of this booke being as it were a morall of it selfe,Morall. were sufficiēt for the point it treats of without any more speech to that purpose: but because the matter is such as cannot be too much spoken of, namely to perswade mē to cō ­cord in matrimonie, I must needs adde a word or two thereof. And first for mine opinion, I professe that I think it a vertue for a mā to be kind to his wife, & I am of the Censor Cato his mind, who being a maruellous ausiere mā otherwise; yet pro­noūced flatly that a man could not be an honest man, that was not to his wife a kind man. And I wil go thus much farther, that you shall hardly find a discreet louing husband, I mean (without dissimulation or flattery) but is withal a vertuous good mīded mā, be they of what calling they list: wherfore I honor matrimonial loue in my superiors, I loue it in my equals I praise it in my inferiors, I commend it in all, and to all of what sort or sex soeuer, & I wish them but to call to mind his comparison before set down in verse, and to this effect in prose, that if the male & female in beasts and foule, for the most part, liue in concord & agreement, what a foule and worse then beastly thing is it, for man & wife to be euer bralling & snarling, (for as for smiting) I count it more then mōstrous: & let al sorts embrace this honest loue, not only cōmended but commanded by God, in holy Scriptures, where they are called both one flesh, to giue vs thereby to vnderstand, that as we would not willingly breake our owne shins, nor let our finger ake if we could remedie the same, & if we see one strike him­selfe, or knocke his head to the wall, we thinke him Bidlem mad. So he that shall willingly grieue the wife of his bosome, or wickedly hurt her, we may thinke him far frō a sober, & farther frō an honest man. And euen as if one haue an ach or any grief in his toe or finger, straight▪ he doth lap that part in warm cloth, & ea seth it al he can, & cherisheth it more then be­fore til it be sound again: so if any thing either il don, or il takē [...] perhaps though not il ment, (haue bred a litle powting or lowring toward vnkindnesse, we must lap vp the part thus grieued in warm imbracements, & heale it with sweet words. And if it be but a greene wound, annoint it with the precious balsamū (which all good surgeons know to be a soueraigne medicine for such griefes) and so we shall soundly cure it without any maime or scarre, but we must neuer come to the ex­tremities of cutting or searing, except the disease grow to a Gangrena or some cankred malice vnpossible to be cured.

Another good morall obseruation to be gathered in this cāto, is the choise of Cencuta, who being a great Lady by birth yet chose rather a gallant faire conditioned gentlemā thē a great Duke. For first it is no disparagemēt for the greatest Empresse in the world to marie one that is a gentleman by birth, according to the old prouerb, A gentlemā may make a king and a clarke may proue a Pope. Secondly, if we marke generally the successe of all mariages, we may find the saying of Themistocles true, Better is a man without mony, then mony without a man. To many and toto pitifull are the ex­amples that we haue hard of, I will not say seene, of those Ladies that to match thēselues or their daughters on step higher nay but euē the higher end of the same step higher thē they might otherwise haue don, haue with that ambition vndon thē, making them liue with great discontent, or to say the truth, flat misery, with their proud & vnkind Lord. And yet cānot such euident & neare examples moue some both fair, & modest, & vertuous, to keep thē out of such gilded gyues. [...]eleeue it Lady, to whōsoeuer I speak it, that a happie womā is seene in a white apron, as often as in an embrodred kirtle, & hath as quiet sleeps & as contented wakings in a bed of cloth as vnder a sparuer of tissue. Boccasio speaking of the coynesse of some graue widowes, as well as nice damsels, saith as I remēber in the laberinth of louers to this effect. Be a mā (saith he) neuer so diseased, deformed, decrepit, vnwholsome, vnsauorie, yet if he haue bene either so good a storer for mony, that he may leue his wife wealthy; or be so great in titles though a begar in liuing, that she may take her place the higher, they wil (saith he) be contented to lay their so delicate and daintily preserued morsels, in such lothsome dishes to be daily smackt & slauered, binding themselues to suffer such a penance God knowes how long, only to satisfie those humors of coueteous­nesse and pride, staruing to their griefe, the third humour (if they be so vertuous) that is by some thought the predomi­nant humor in that sex, and many times dwels vnder the same roofe with the other two. Yet surely I could rather com­mend his curtesan that he writes of in his Decameron, who hauing bargained with a Dutchman, one M. Bruffaldo, for seuen dayes boord and lodging at a great rate, hauing found him for one or two nights to be but an vnsauorie bed fellow, she chose rather to leese those two nights hire, then to endure fiue more at so painful a price. But I doubt I grow too tedi­ous while I shoot out such blots out of a Boccas. Now to go forward in the morall. You may note in Polynesso an enui­ous and trecherous mind: in Ariodant the hurt of a credulous ielousie: in Lurcanio the vehemencie of a wrong surmise. In Polynessos intent to kill Dalinda, you may obserue how wicked men often bewray their owne misdeeds with seeking to hide them. In Geneuras accusation and deliuerie, how God euer defends the innocent. And lastly in Polynessos death, how wickednesse ruines it seife.

For the historie of this booke,Storie. either the whole is a historie, or there is no matter historicall in it to be stood on.

Allegorie there is none in this booke at all.Allegorie.

Allusion there is in this tale of Geneura, Allusion. vnto a storie writtē in Alciats duello, of a matron in France accused in such sort, by two men, and a certaine souldier of Barcellona came with a companion of his, and tooke vpon them the defence of the woman, and being fighting, the companion of the souldier fled: not withstanding he of Barcellona with his courage and vertue gat the victorie of the other two, and so in strange attire went home to his country vnknowne, to which Ariodant seems to allude. Some others affirme, that this very matter, though set downe here by other names, happened in F [...]rrara to a kinsewoman of the Dukes, which is here figured vnder the name of Geneura, and that indeed such a practise was vsed against her by a great Lord, and discouered by a damsell as is here set downe. Howsoeuer it was, sure the tale is a prettie comicall matter, and ha [...]bene written in English verse some few years past (learnedly and with good grace) though in [...]erse of another kind, by M. George Turberuil.

The rocke from which Ariodant leapt into the sea, aliudeth to to the rocke of Lewcade, where men that were mad for loue leapt into the water, and washed away ( [...] they thought) that fancie. Strabo calleth it faltus amatorius.




Geneurafaire to Ariodant is giuen,
And he a Duke is made that verie day.
Rogero with the Griffeth horse is driuen,
Unto Alcynas ile, and there doth stay.
Amirtle in the middle strangly riuen,
Alcinas frauds doth unto him bewray:
Of which enformd he thence would haue departed,
But by the way he finds his purpose thwarted.
Most wretched he, that thinks by doing ill,
His euill deedes long to conceale and hide,
For though the voice and tongues of men be still,
By foules or beasts his sin shalbe discride:
[...] a Poet to this ef.
And God oft worketh by his secret will,
[...]word ubi se [...] persomnia quentes [...].
That sinne it selfe the sinner so doth guide,
That of his owne accord, without request,
He makes his wicked doings manifest.
The gracelesse wight, Duke Polinesso thought,
His former fault should sure haue bin concealed,
If that Dalinda vnto death were brought,
By whom alone the same could be reuealed.
Thus making worse the thing before was nought,
He hurt the wound which time perhaps had healed.
And weening with more sinne the lesse to mend,
He hastned on his well deserued end.
And lost at once his life, his state, and frends,
And honour to, a losse as great or more.
Now (as I sayd) that vnknowne knight entends,
Sith euerie one to know him sought so sore,
And sith the king did promise large amends,
To shew his face which they saw oft before,
And Ariodant most louely did appeare,
Whom they thought dead as you before did heare.
He whom Geneura wofully did waile,
He whom Lurcanio deemed to be dead,
He whom the king and court did so bewaile,
He that to all the realme such care had bred,
Doth liue; the clownes report in this did faile,
On which false ground the rumor false was spred.
And yet in this the peasant did not mocke,
He saw him leape downe headlong from the rock.
But as we see men oft with rash intent
Are desperate and do resolue to die,
And straight do change that fancie and repent,
When vnto death they do approch more nie:
So Ariodant to drowne himselfe that ment,
Now plung'd in sea repented by and by,
And being of his limbes able and strong,
Vnto the shore he swam againe erre long.
And much dispraising in his inward thought,
This fond conceit that late his minde poslest,
At last a blind and narrow path him brought,
All tyrd and wet to be an hermits guest:
With whom to stay in secretsort he sought,
Both that he might his former griefe digest,
And learne the truth, if this same clownes report,
Were by Geneura tane in griefe or sport.
There first he heard how she conceiu'd such griefe [...]
As almost brought her life to wofull end,
He found of her they had so good beleefe,
They thought she would not in such sort offend:
He further heard except she had releefe,
By one that would her innocence defend,
It was great doubt Lurcanios acculation,
Would bring her to a speedie condemnation.
And looke how loue before his heart enraged,
So now did wrath enflame, and though he knew wel
To wreake his harme, his brothers life was gaged,
He nathles thought his act so foule and cruell,
That this his anger could not be as [...]waged,
Vnto his flame loue found such store of fewel:
And this the more increast his wrath begun,
To heare how eu [...]rie one the fight did shun.
For why Lurcanio, was so stout and wise,
Except it were for to defend the truth,
Men thought he would not so the king despise,
And hazard life to bring Geneuras ruth,
Which caused euerie one his friend aduise,
To shunne the fight that must maintaine vntruth.
But Ariodant after long disputation,
Meanes to withstand his brothers accusation.
Alas (quoth he) Ineuer shall abide,
Her through my cause to die in wo and paine,
For danger or for death what eare betide,
Be she once dead my life cannot remaine,
She is my saint, in her my blisse doth bide,
Her golden rayes my eies light still maintaine,
Fall backe, fall edge, and be it wrong or right,
In her defence I am resolu'd to fight.
I take the wrong, but yet ile take the wrong
And die I shall, yet if I die I care not,
But then alas, by law she dies er long,
O cruell lawes so sweete a wight that spare not:
Yet this small ioy I finde these griefes among,
That Polinesso to defend her dare not,
And she shall finde how little she was loued,
Of him that to defend her neuer moued.
And she shall see me dead there for her sake,
To whom so great a damage the hath done:
And of my brother iust reuengement take
I shall, by whom this strife was first begun,
For there at least my death plaine proof shall make
That he this while a foolish thred hath spun,
He thinketh to auenge his brothers ill,
The while himselfe his brother there shall kill.
And thus resolued, he gets him armour new,
New horse and all things new that needfull b [...]ene
All clad in blacke, a sad and mournfull hew,
And crost with wreath of yellow and of greene,
A stranger bare his sheeld that neither knew,
His masters name nor him before had seene,
And thus as I before rehearst, disguised
He met his brother as he had deuised.
I told you what successe the matter had,
How Ariodant himselfe did then discouer,
For whom the king himselfe was euen as glad,
As late before his daughter to recouer,
And since he thought in ioyfull times and sad,
No man could shew himselfe a truer louer
Then he that after so great wrong, intended
Against his brother her to haue defended.
Both louing him by his owne inclination,
And praid thereto by many a Lord and knight,
And chiefly by Renaldos instigation,
He gaue to Ariodant Geneura bright.
Now by the Dukes atteint and condemnation,
Albania came to be the kings in right.
Which dutchie falling in so luckie houre,
Was giuen vnto the damsell for her dowr [...].
Renaldo for Dalindas pardon praide,
Who for her error did so sore repent,
That straight she vowd,
He [...]e [...] tale of G [...]
with honest mind and staid,
To liue her life in prayre and penitent:
Away she packt, nor further time delaid,
He ret [...] Renald [...] st. 16. Foge [...]
In Datia, to a nunrie there she went.
But to Rogero now I must repaire,
That all this while did gallop in the aire.
Who though he were of mind and courage stout,
And would not easly feare or be dismaid,
Yet doubtlesse now his minde was full of doubt,
His hart was now appald, and sore afraid.
Farre from Europa, he had trauaild out,
And yet his flying horse could not be staid,
But past the pillars xij. score leagues and more,
Pitcht there by Hercles many yeares before.
This Griffeth horse a birde most huge and rare,
Doth pierce the [...]kie with so great force of wing,
The E [...]ght [...]
That with that noble birde he may compare,
Whom Poets faine Ioues lightning downe to bring
To whom all other birds inferior are,
Because they take the Eagle for their king.
Scarse seemeth from the clouds to go so swift,
The thunderboltsent by the lightnings drift.
When long this monster strange had kept his race,
Straight as a line bending to neither side,
He spide an Iland distant little space,
To which he bends in purpose there to bide,
Much like insemblance was it to the place,
Where Arethusa vsd her selfe to hide,
And seekes so long her loue to haue beguild, [...]
Aret [...] in the [...]
Till at the last she found her selfe with child.
A fairer place they saw not all the while,
That they had trauild in the aire aloft
In all the world was not a fairer ile,
If all the world to finde the same were sought:
Here hauing trauaild many a hundred mile,
Rogero by his bird to rest was brought,
In pastures greene, and hils with coole fresh aire,
Cleere riuers, shadie banks, and meddowes faire.
Heere diuers groues there were, of daintie shade,
Of Palme, or Orenge trees, of Cedars tall,
Of sundrie fruites and flowres that neuer fade,
The shew was faire, the plentie was not small.
And arbours in the thickest places made,
Where little light, and heat came not at all:
Where Nightingales did straine their little throtes,
Recording still their sweete and pleasant notes.
Amid the lilly white and fragrant rose,
Preseru'd still fresh by warme and temprate aire,
The fearfull hare, and cunnie carelesse goes,
The stag with stately head and bodie faire,
Doth feed secure, not fearing any foes,
That to his damage hither may repaire,
The Bucke and Doe doth feed amid the fields,
As in great store the pleasant forrest yeelds.
It needlesse was to bid Rogero light,
When as his horse approched nigh the ground,
He cast himselfe out of his saddle quight,
And on his feet he falleth safe and sound,
And holds the horses raines, left else he might
Flic quite away, and not againe be found,
And to a mirtle by the water side,
Betweene two other trees his beast he tide.
And finding thereabout a little brooke,
That neare vnto a shadie mountaine stands,
His helmet from his head forthwith he tooke,
His shield from arme, his gantlet from his hands,
And from the higher places he doth looke,
Full oft to sea, full oft to fruitfull lands,
And seekes the coole and pleasant aire to take,
That doth among the leaues a murmure make,
Oft with the water of that cristall well,
He seekes to quench his thirst and swage his heate,
With which his veines enflam'd did rise and swell,
And ca [...]d his other parts to fry in sweate:
Well may it seeme a maruell that I tell,
Yet will I once againe the same repeate,
He traueld had aboue three thousand mile,
And not put off his armour all the while.
Behold his horse he lately tied there,
Among the boughs in shadie place to bide,
Straue to go loose, and started backe for feare,
And puls the tree to which the raines were tide,
In which (as by the sequell shall appeare)
A humane soule it selfe did strangely hide.
With all his strength the steed st [...]ues to be loosed,
By force whereof the mirtle sore was broosed.
[...]irken out [...].
And as an arme of tree from bodie rent,
By peasants strength with many a sturdie stroke,
When in the fire the moisture all is spent,
The emptie places fild with aire and smoke,
Do boile and striue, and find at last a vent,
When of the brand a shiuer out is broke,
So did the tree striue, bend, writhe, wring and breake,
Till at a little hole it thus did speake.
Right curteous knight (for so I may you deeme,
And must you call not knowing other name)
I [...] so you are as gracious as you seeme,
Then let your friendly deed confirme the same,
Vnloose this monster, sent as I esteeme,
To adde some farther torment to my shame.
Alas, mine inward griefes were such before,
By outward plagues they need be made no more.
Rogero mazed looked round about,
If any man or woman he might see,
At last he was resolued of his doubt,
He found the voice was of the mirtle tree,
With which abasht, though he were wise and stout,
He said, I humbly pray thee pardon me,
Ouid. [...]. Me [...]am. Quisq [...] [...]s [...] fa­ [...].
Whether thou be some humane ghost or spright,
Or power deuine that in this woodhast right.
Not wilfulnesse, but ignorance did breed
Thine iniury, mine error in this case:
And made me do this vnaduised deed,
By which vnwares thy leaues I did deface:
But let thy speech so farre forth now proceed,
To tell me who thou art that in this place,
Dost dwell in tree amid the desert field,
As God from haile and tempest thee may shield.
And if that [...] for this amends may make,
Or now or after, or by paine or art,
I sweare to thee by her,
Bradamant. To whom Rog [...] [...]as a s [...]t [...]r.
and for her sake,
That holds of me, and shall the better part,
That I shall not surcease all paines to take,
To worke thy ioy, or to as [...]wage thy smart.
This said, he saw againe the nurtle shake,
And then againe he heard that thus it spake.
Sir knight, your curtesie doth me constraine,
To shew to you the thing that you desier,
Although I sweat (as you may see) with paine,
Like greenest boughes vpon the flaming fier,
I will discouer vnto you her traine,
(Wo worth the time that [...]uer I came nie her)
That did for malice and by magicke strange,
My liuely shape to liuelesle branches change.
I was an Earle, Astolfo was my name,
Well knowne in France in time of warre and peace,
Orlandos cosen and Renalds, whose fame
While time shall last in earth shall neuer cease.
Of Oton king of English Ile I came,
And should succeed him after his decease.
Both comely, yong, carelesle of worldly pelfe,
To none an enemie but to my selfe.
For as we turned from the Ester Iles,
Whose banks are worne with surge of Indian waue,
Where I and many more with witching wiles,
This hath refe­rence to the booke called Orland [...], Ina [...]ora [...]o.
Were straight inclosed in a hollow caue,
Vntill Orlando did auenge the guiles,
And found by force a meane his friends to saue,
We Westward went vpon the shore and sand,
That lieth on the Northside of the land.
And as we traueld homeward on our way,
As chance did leade or destinie vs driue,
It was our fortune once on breake of day,
Hard by Alcynas castle to arriue,
Where she alone, to sport her selfe and play,
Such kind of gins for fishes did cont [...]ue,
That though we saw no net, no bait, no hooke,
Yet still we saw that store of fish she tooke.
The Dolphin strong, the Tunnie good of tast,
The Mullet, Stargeon, Samon (princely fish)
With Porpose, S [...]ales, and Thornpooles came as fast,
As she was pleased to commaund or wish.
And still she tooke of each kind as they past,
Some strange for shew, some daintie for the dish,
The horsefish and the huge and monstrous whales,
Whole mightie members harnest are with scales.
Among the rest that were too long to count,
We [...]aw the fish that men Balena call,
Twelue yards aboue the water did amount
His mightie backe, the monster is so tall:
And (for it stood to s [...]l) we made account,
It had bene land, but were deceiued all,
We were decei [...]d, well I may rew the while,
It was so huge we thought it was an [...]le.
I sav this potent witch Alcyna tooke
All [...]rt [...] o [...] fish without or net or aide,
But on [...]ly reading in a little booke,
O [...] mumbling words, I know not what she said,
But se [...]ng me, so well she likt my looke,
That at her sport but little time [...] staid,
But [...] forthwi [...]h to trap me by her skill,
Which straight fe [...]l [...]ut according to her will.
F [...] toward me with pleasant cheare she came,
In modest maner and in [...].
And d [...]d withall her speech [...] frame,
And [...] to resort,
O [...] I would be partner of h [...] g [...]me,
She o [...]tred me to shew me all the sport,
And all the kinds of fish in seas that were,
Some great, some smal, some smooth, and some with haire.
And if you [...] [...] Mermaid faire to see,
That can with song the raging stormes appease,
At yon [...] same little banke you may (quoth the)
To which we two will safely pa [...]le with ease:
(Th [...] banke which she pretends to shew to me,
Was that same [...]ish the monster of the seas)
And I that too much loued to aduenter,
Vpon the fishes backe with her did enter.
My cousins [...] and Ronaldo beckned
To draw me thence, I heard not what they said,
But of their speech and signes I little reckned,
I had not wit enough to be afraid:
But soone my courage was appald and weakned,
I straight was [...]aine in va [...]e to crie for aid,
The monst [...]ous fish that [...]eemd to me an Ile,
Straight bare me from the shore full many a mile.
There was Ronald [...] like to haue bene drownd,
Who [...] to [...]ue me if perhaps he might,
But [...]o dainly of him and of the ground,
A [...] ud did take away the sight:
[...] and I with seas enuirond round,
Did [...]r [...]uell on that monster all the night,
And then with gracious speeches she began
To gi [...]e me all the comfort that she can.
And thus at last to this place we repaire,
Of which by wrong Alcyna keepes possession,
Deposing forcibly the rightfull heire,
(Her elder lawfull sister) by oppression:
The other two more vicious then faire,
Are bastards, and begotten in transgression,
I heard it told, and haue it not forgotten,
She and Morgana were in incest gotten.
And as their first beginning was of sinne,
So is their life vngodly and defamed,
Of law [...]or iustice passing not a pinne,
But like the heifer wanton and vntamed,
By warre they seeke their sisters right to win [...]e,
Their elder sister Logistilla named,
And haue so farre preuailed with their powers,
They haue of hers about an hundred towers.
And had er [...] this time taken all away,
Saue that the rest is strongly fenced round,
For of one side the water stops the way,
On th'other side the vantage of the ground,
Which with a mightie banke doth make a stay,
Much like the English and the Scottish bound:
And yet the bastard sisters do their best,
And labour still to spoile her of the rest.
And why, because they see her good and holy,
They hated her because themselues are vicious,
But to returne, and tell you of my folly,
That turnd to me so hurtfull and pernicious,
I now againe grew somewhat bold and iolly,
I see no cause to feare or be suspicious,
And finding she lou'd me by signes most plaine,
I wholy bent my selfe to loue againe.
When I her daintie members did embrace,
I deemed then there was none other blis [...]e,
Me thought all other pleasures were but base,
Of friends nor kin I had no want nor mis [...]e,
I onely wisht to stand in her good grace,
And haue accesse her corrall lips to kisse.
I thought my selfe the happiest of all creatures,
To haue a Ladie of so goodly features.
And this the more confirmd my ioy and pride,
That toward me she shewd such loue and care,
By night and dayly I was by her side,
To do or speake against me no man dare,
I was her stay, I was her houses guide,
I did commaund, the rest as subiects are:
She trusted me, alone with me she talked,
With me within she sat, without she walked.
Alas why do I open lay my sore,
Without all hope of medcine or releefe?
And call to mind the fickle ioy before,
Now being plungd in g [...]lfes of endlesse greefe?
For while I thought she [...]o [...]d me more and more,
When as I deemd my ioy and blisse was cheefe,
Her wauing loue away fro me was taken,
A new guest came, the old was cleane forsaken.
Then did I find full soone, though too to late,
Her wanton, wauering, wily womans wit,
Accustomd in a trice to loue and hate,
I saw another in my seate to sit:
Her loue was gone, forgone my happie state,
The marke is mist that I was wont to hit:
And I had perfect knowledge then ere long,
That to a thousand she had done like wrong.
And least that they about the world might go,
And make her wicked life and falshood knowne,
In diuers places she doth them bestow,
So as abrode they shall not make their mone,
Some into trees, amid the field that grow,
Some into beasts, and some into a stone:
In rockes or riuers she doth hide the rest,
As to her cruell fancie seemeth best.
And you that are arriu'd by steps so strange,
To this vnfortunate and fatall lle,
Although in youthfull sports a while you range,
And though Alcina fauour you a while,
(Although you little looke for any change,)
Although she friendly seeme on you to smile,
Yet looke no les [...]e, but changd at last to be,
Into some brutish beast, some stone or tree.
Thus though perhap my labour is but lost,
Yet haue [...] giu'n you good and plaine aduise,
Who can themselues beware by others cost,
May be accounted well among the wise:
The waues that my poore ship so sore hath tost,
You may auoid by heed and good deuise,
Which if you do, then your successe is such,
As many others could not do so much.
Rogero did with much attention heare
Astolfos speech, and by his name he knew
To Bradamant he was of kindred neare,
Which made him more his wofull state to rew:
And for her sake that loued him most deare,
To whom from him all loue againe was dew,
He [...]ought to bring him aid and some releefe,
At least with comfort to asswage his griefe.
Which hauing done, he asked him againe,
The way that would to Logistilla guide,
For were it by the hils, by dale or plaine,
He thither meant forthwith to runne or ride.
Astolfo answerd it would aske much paine,
And many a weary iourney he should bide,
Because to stop this way Alcina sets
A thousand kinds of hindrances and lets.
For as the way it selfe is very steepe,
Not pas [...]able without great toile and paine,
So she that in her mischiefe doth not sleepe,
Doth make the matter harder to attaine,
By placing men of armes the way to keepe,
Of which she hath full many in her traine.
Rogero gaue Astolfo many thanks,
For giuing him this warning of her pranks.
And leading then the flying horse in hand,
Not during yet to mount a beast so wilde,
Least (as before I made you vnderstand)
He might the second time haue bene beguild:
He meanes to go to Logistillas land,
A vertucus Ladie, chast, discreet and mild,
And to withstand Alcina tooth and naile,
That vpon him her force might not preuaile.
But well we may commend his good intent,
Though missing that to which he did aspire,
[...]uid [...] Care [...]t successi [...] opt [...] quisquis ab cuen­ [...] facts not [...] pu [...].
Who iudgeth of our actions by th'euent,
I wish they long may want their most desire.
For though Rogero to resist her ment,
And feared her as children feare the fire,
Yet was he taken to his hurt and shame,
Simile. Petrark.
Euen as the flie is taken in the flame.
For going on his way, behold he spies
A house more stately then can well be told,
Whose wals do seeme exalted to the skies,
From top to bottome shining all of gold,
A sight to rauish any mortall eyes,
It seemd some Alcumist did make this hold,
The wals seemd all of gold, but yet I trow
All is not gold that makes a golden show.
Sense [...]
Now though this stately sight did make him stay,
Yet thinking on the danger him foretold,
He left the easie and the beaten way,
That leadeth to this rich and stately hold,
And to her house where vertue beares the sway,
He bends his steps with all the hast he could:
But er [...] he could ascend the mountaines top,
A crew of caitiues sought his way to stop.
A foule deformd, a brutish cursed crew,
In bodie like to antike worke dcuised,
Of monstrous shape, and of an vgly hew,
Like masking Machachinas all disguised.
Some looke like dogs, and some like apes in vew,
Look in the A [...] ­gory.
Some dreadfull looke, and some to be despised,
Yong shamelesse folke, and doting foolish aged,
Some nakd, some drunk, some bedlem like enraged.
One rides in hast a horse without a bit,
Another rides as slow, an asse or cow,
The third vpon a Centaurs rumpe doth sit.
A fourth would flie with wings, but knows not how,
The fift doth for a speare employ a spit,
Sixt blowes a blast like one that gelds a sow.
Some carrie ladders, others carrie chaines,
Some sit and sleepe while others take the paines.
The Captaine of this honorable band,
With belly swolne, and puffed blubberd face,
Because for drunkennesle he could not stand,
Vpon a tortes [...]e rode a heauy pace:
His sergeants all were round about at hand,
Each one to do his office in his place:
Some wipe the sweat, with faus some make a wind,
Some stay him vp before, and some behind.
Then one of these that had his feet and brest
Of manlike shape, but like vnto a hound
In [...]ares, in necke, and mouth, and all the rest
Doth vtter barking words with currish sound,
Part to commaund, aud partly to request
The valian [...] knight to leaue the higher ground,
And to repaire vnto Alcynas castle,
Or else (for [...]ooth) they two a pull would wrastle.
This monster seeing his request denide,
Strake at Rogeros beauer with a launce,
But he that could no such rude iests abide,
With Ball [...]sarda smote him in the paunch.
Out came the sword a foote on th'other side,
With which he led his fellowes such a daunce,
That some hopt headlesse, some cut by the knees,
And some their arms, and some their eares did leese.
In vaine it was their targets to oppose
Against the edge of his enchanted blade,
No steele had force to beare those fatall blowes,
Vnto the quicke the sword a passage made:
But yet with numbers they do him inclose,
Their multitude his force did ouerlade:
He needs at least Briarius hundred armes
To [...]oile the foes that still about him swarmes.
Had he remembred to vnfold the shield,
Atlanta car [...]d at his saddle bow,
He might haue quickly ouercome the field,
And cau [...]d them all without receiuing blow,
Like men dismaid and blind themselues to yeeld:
But he perhaps that vertue did not know,
Or if he did, perhaps he would disdaine,
Where force did faile, by fraud his will to gaine.
But being full resolued not to yeeld
Vnto such beasts, but ere he parted thence
He would his carkasse leaue amid the field,
Sentence. [...].
And manfully would die in his defence,
Then [...]o good hap that failes the forward seeld,
Prouided him a meane to rid him hence.
There came two Ladie;, either like a Queene,
And each of them most stately to be seene.
Looke [...].
For each of them an Vnicorne did ride,
As white as Lillies, or vnmolten snow,
And each of them was deckt with so great pride,
As might most richly set them forth to show,
But each of them was so diuinely eide,
Would moue a man in loue with them to grow,
And each of them in all points was so choice,
As in their sight a man would much reioyce.
Then both of them vnto the m [...]ow came,
Whereas R [...]g [...] [...]ought with all that rout,
And both of them those brutish beasts did blame,
That [...]ought to harme a knight so strong and s [...]ou [...].
R [...]ger [...]blu [...]hing now with modest shame,
Thankt them that had of danger holpt him out,
And straight consented with those Ladies faire,
Vnto [...] castle to repaire.
Those ornaments that do set forth the gate,
Embost a little bigger then the rest,
All are enricht with stones of great estate,
The best and richest growing in the East,
In parted quadrons, with a seemly rate,
The collons diamonds as may be guest:
I say not whether counterfait or true,
But shine they did like diamonds in vew.
About these stately pillars and betweene
Are wanton damsels gadding to and fro,
And as their age, so are their garments greene,
The blacke oxe hath not yet trod on their toe,
Had vertue with that beautie tempred beene,
It would haue made the substance like the show:
These maids with curteous speech and manners nice
Welcome Rogero to this paradise.
If so I may a paradise it name,
Where loue and lust haue built their habitation,
Where time well spent is counted as a shame,
No wise staid thought, no care of estimation,
Nor nought but courting, dauncing, play and game,
Disguised clothes, each day a sundry fashion,
No vertuous labour doth this people please,
But nice apparrell, belly-cheare and ease.
Their aire is alway temperate and cleare,
And wants both winters storms, and summers hea [...]e,
As though that Aprill lasted all the yeare,
Some one by fountaines side doth take his sea [...]e,
And there with [...]ained voice and carelesse cheare,
Some sonnet made of loue he doth repeate:
Some others other where with other fashions,
Describe vnto their loues their louing passions.
And Cupid then, the captaine of the crew,
Triumphs vpon the captiues he hath got,
And more and more his forces to renew,
Supplies with fresh the arrowes he hath short,
With which he hits (his leuell is so true)
And wounds full deepe, although it bleedeth not:
This is the place to which Rogero went,
And these the things to which our youth is bent.
Then straight a stately steed of colour bay,
Well limbd and strong was to Rogero brought,
And deckt with faire capparison most gay,
With gold and pearle and iewels richly wrought,
The Griffeth horse (that whilome to obay
The spurre and bit was by Atlanta tought)
Because his iourney long required rest,
Was carrid to a stable to be drest.
The Ladies faire that had the knight defended,
From that same wicked and vngracious band,
Which as you heard at large before pretended,
Rogeros passage stoutly to withstand,
Told now Rogero how that they intended,
Because his valew great they vnderstand,
Of him to craue his furtherance and a [...]d,
Against their so that made them oft afraid.
There is (quoth they) a bridge amid our way,
To which we are alreadie verie nie,
Where one Erifila doth all she may,
To damage and annoy the passers by,
A Giantes [...]e she is, she liues by pray,
Her fa [...]hions are to fight, deceiue and lye:
Her teeth belong, her visage rough with heare,
Her nayles be sharpe, and scratching like a Beare.
The harme is great this monster vile doth doe,
To stop the way that but for her were free,
She spils and spoiles, she cares not what nor who,
That griefe to heare, and pittie is to see:
And for to adde more hatred her vnto,
Know this, that all yon monsters you did see,
Are to this monster either sonnes or daughters,
And liue like her by robberies and slaughters.
Rogero thus in curteous sort replide,
Faire Ladies gladly I accept your motion,
If oth [...]rseruice I may do beside,
You may command, I stand at your deuotion:
For this I weare this coat and blade well tride,
Not to procure me riches or promotion,
But to defend from iniurie and wrong,
All such as haue their enemies too strong.
The Ladies did Rogero greatly thanke,
As well de [...]eru'd so stout and braue a knight,
That proferd at the first request so franke,
Against the gyantesse for them to fight.
Now they drew nye vnto the riuers banke,
When as Erifila came out in sight:
But they that in this storie take some pleasure,
May heare the rest of it at further leasure.

In Ariodants combat with his brother, we may note how the loue of kinred often giues place to the loue of carnalitie. In Dalindas going into religion, after she had her pardon, we may note, that amendment of life is necessary after true repentance. In Rogeros travelling three thousand miles, and then resting at Alcynas, we may obserue how the thoughts of men ranging abrode into a thousand matters, lastly abide in the pleasantest.

In Astolfos metamorphosis into a myrtle tree (which tree is said to be dedicated to Venus) we may note, how men giuen ouer to sensualitie, leese in the end the verie forme of man (whch is reason) and so become beastes or stockes: but these two last notes will be more aptly considered in the Allegorie.

Historie there is none in this booke, [...]ie. but the continuation of the tale of Geneura, amplified probably, though I thinke no way truely.

The rest of this whole booke is an Allegorie, [...]ri [...]. so plaine to those that will indeed looke heedfully into it, as needs no expo­sition, and it is continued in the next booke, and in a manner there expounded, to the vnderstanding of any reasonable capacitie, yet for plainnes sake I will touch some things with my accustomed briefenes, and leaue the rest to the discreet reader to scan, and to applie to his owne profit. First therefore of Rogero, (as we have in part touched before) we may understand the Griffeth horse that carried him, to signifie the passion of the minde contrarie to reason, that caries men in the aire, that is in the height of their imaginations, out of Europe, that is, out of the compasse of the rules of Christian religion and feare of God, vnto the Ile of Alcyna; which signifieth pleasure and vanities of this world.

The example of Astolfos mishap, and his good counsell which Rogero followed so slenderly, shew how neither the counsels of friends, nor no examples, can for the most part stay a man in his youthfull course, from that which he shall af­ter surely repent. Rogeros offring to go to Logestilla, which betokens vertue, signifies the good motiues that men haue of­ten, by reading good bookes, or hearing good sermons to amend their liues: but then the monstrous crew that stoppeth Ro­gero, signifying the base conceits of men, and foule desires that assaile them, as namely those sea [...]en sinnes which be called the deadly sinnes: by strong temptations and lewd suggestions, do put vs out of that right way, or at least encomber vs so as we proceed but slowly: howbeit these do not preuaile so farre, but that an honest and well giuen minde doth with­stand them, and yeeldeth not to them till the two Ladies riding vpon Vnicornes, which some vnderstand by chast loue, or at the least a shew of honorable loue, or rather I suppose thereby to be meant ambition and desire of aduancement, these two driue away all those base thoughts that assailed him, but yet they bring him at last vnto the court of Alcina, where he is held fast, as shall be shewed in the next booke.

By Erifila is ment couetousnesse, as the name it selfe shewes, which must be beaten downe er we can come to honour or loue.

By Logestilla, that is inuaded by the two bas [...]erd sisters, is ment allegorically, the true Christian religion; and there is another cosen of theirs called heresie, and the graundsire of them all, called Atheisme, that are of late very busie with her. But she is defended with the water, which signifies the holy Scripture, and with the mountaine, which in the Scripture it selfe is taken for preachers, as S. Augustine noteth vpon the Psalmes. I lift vp mine eies to the hils, wh [...]nce commeth my saluation.

The transformation of Astolfo, [...] alludes to Cyrces witchcrast in Homer.



When foule Erifila was ouercome,
Rogero guided by two stately dames,
Vnto Alcynas sumptuous court doth come,
Where he his time in pleasure s [...]ends and games:
Melissa him rebukes, he standeth dumme,
And at her true reproofes he greatly shames.
In fine by her good counsell and direction,
He frees himselfe from that most foule subiection.
ALL they that to far coun­tries do re [...]ort,
Shall see strange sights, in earth, in seas, in skies,
[...]mag­ [...]inesse
Which when againe at home they shall report,
Their solemne tales, estee­med are as lyes.
[...] to those [...]not [...] [...] the al­ [...].
For [...]y the fond and sim­ple common sort,
Beleeue but what they feele or see with eyes,
Therefore to them, my tale may seeme a fable,
Whose wits to vnderstand it are not able.
But carelesse what the simpl [...] sots surmise,
If they shall deeme it [...] deuice or deede,
Yet sure to those that are discreete and wise,
It will no wonder nor no passion breed:
Wherefore my tale to such I do deuise,
And with them to the same to take good heed,
For some there are, may fortune in this booke,
As in a glasse their acts and haps to looke.
For many men with hope and show of pleasure,
Are carri'd far in foolish fond conceit,
And wast their pretious time, & spend their treasure,
Before they can discouer this deceit.
O happie they that keepe within their measure,
To turne their course in time, and found retreit,
Before that wit with late repentance taught,
Were better neuer had then so deare bought.
A little while before I did reherse,
How that Rogero by two dames was brought,
To combat with Erifila the feerse,
Who for to stop the bridge and passage soughte
In vaine it were for to declare in verse,
How sumptuously her armor all was wrought,
All set with stones, and guilt with Indian gold,
Both fit for vse, and pleasant to behold.
She mounted was but not vpon a steed,
Insteed thereof she on a Wolfe doth sit,
A Wolfe whose match Apuli [...] doth not breed,
Horace. Qua [...] po [...]tentum [...].
Well taught to hand, although she vsd no bit,
And all of sandie colour was her weed,
Her armes were thus (for such a champion fit)
An vgly Tode was painted on her shield,
With poyson swolne, and in a [...]able field.
Now each the other forthwith had descride.
And each with other then prepard to fight,
Then each the other scornefully deside,
Each seekes to hurt the other all he might.
But she vnable his fierce blowes to bide,
Beneath the vizer smitten was so right:
That from her seat [...]ixe pac [...]s she was heaued,
And lay like one of life and sense bereaued.
Rogero readie was to draw his sword.
To head the monster lying on the sand.
Vntill those dames with many a gentle word,
Asswagd his heat and made him hold his hand:
He might in honour now her life affoord,
Sith at his mercie wholly she doth stand:
Wherefore sir knight put vp your blade (say th [...]y)
Lets passe the bridge and follow on our way.
The way as yet vnpleasant was and ill,
Among the thornie bushes and betweene,
All stony, steep, ascending vp the hill,
A way lesse pleasant seldome hath bene seene:
But this once past according to their will,
And they now mounted vp vpon the greene,
They saw the fairest castle standing by,
That erst was seene with any mortall eye,
Al [...]yna met them at the outer gate,
And came before the rest a little space,
And with a count'nance full of high estate,
Salutes Rogero with a goodly grace,
And all the other courtiers in like rate,
Do bid Rogero welcome to the place,
With so great showes of dutie and of loue,
As if some god descended from aboue.
Not onely was this pallace for the sight,
Most goodly, faire, and stately to behold,
But that the peoples courtsie bred delight,
Which was as great as could with tongue be told.
All were of youth and beautie shining bright,
Yet to confirme this thing I dare behold,
That faire Al [...]yna past the rest as farre,
As doth the Sunne another little starre.
A shape whose like in waxe twere hard to frame,
Or to expresse by skill of painters rare,
Her haire was long, and yellow to the same,
As might with wire of beaten gold compare:
Her louely cheekes with shew of modest shame,
With roses and with lillies painted are,
Her forehead faire and full of seemely cheare,
As smoth as polisht Iuorie doth appeare.
Within two arches of most curious fashion,
Stand two black eyes, that like two cleare suns shind,
Of stedie looke, but apt to take compassion,
Amid which lights, the naked boy and blind,
Doth cast Ins darts that cause so many a passion,
And leaue a sweet and curelesle wound behind:
[...] Laudaret pacem [...]
From thence the nose in such good sort descended,
As enuie knowes not how it may be mended.
Conioynd to which in due and comely space,
Doth stand the mouth stand with Vermilion hew,
Two rowes of precious perle serue in their place,
To show and shut, a lip right faire to vew:
Hence come the courteous words, and full of grace,
That mollifie hard hearts and make them new:
From hence proceed those smilings sweet and nice,
That seeme to make an earthly paradice.
Her brest as milke, her necke as white as snow,
Her necke was round, most plum and large her brest
Two luory apples seemed there to grow,
Full tender smooth, and fittest to be prest:
They waue like seas, when winds most calme doth blow,
But Arg [...]s selfe might not discerne the rest,
[...] Si qua latens [...] a [...].
Yet by presumption well it might be gest,
That that which was concealed was the best.
Her armes due measure of proportion bare,
Her faire white hand was to be vewed plaine,
The fingers long, the ioynts so curious are,
As neither knot appeard nor swelling vaine.
And full to perfect all those features rare,
The foote that to be seene doth sole remaine,
Both slender, short, little it was and round,
A finer foote might no where well be found.
She had on euerie side prepar'd a net,
If so she walke, or laugh, or sing, or stand:
Rogero now the counsell doth forget,
He had receiud late at Astolfos hand:
He doth at nought those wholsome precepts set,
That warned him to shun Alcynas land,
He thought no fraud, no treason nor no guile,
Could be accompani'd with so sweete a smile.
The dame of France, whom he so loued erst,
He quite forgets, so farre awry he swarued:
The tale Astolfo had to him reherst,
He thinketh false, or else by him desarued:
Alcynas goodly shape his heart so perst,
She onely seemd a mistresse to be sarued:
Ne must you blame Rogeros inclination,
But rather blame the force of incantation.
Now as abrode the stately courts did sound,
Of trumpets, shagbot, cornets, and of flutes,
Euen so within there wants no pleasing sound,
Of virginals, of vials and of lutes,
Vpon the which persons not few were found,
That did record their loues and louing sutes,
And in some song of loue and wanton verse,
Their good or ill successes did reherse.
As for the sumptuous and luxurious fare,
The [...] were [...] sters, a [...], apparem.
I thinke not they that Nynus did succeed,
Nor Cleopatra faire, whose riot rare,
To Antonie such loue and losse did breed,
Might with Alcynas any way compare,
Whose loue did all the others fa [...]re exceed,
So deepely was she rauisht in the sight,
Of this so valiant and so comely knight.
The supper done, and tables tane away,
To purposes and such like toyes they went,
Each one to other secretly to say
Some word by which some prettie toy is ment,
This helpt the louers better to bewray
Each vnto another what was their intent,
For when the word was hither tost and thither,
Their last conclusion was to lie together.
These prettie kinds of amorous sports once ended,
With torches to his chamber he was brought,
On him a crew of ga [...]lant squires attended,
That euerie way to do him honour sought.
The chambers furniture could not be mended,
It seemd Arachne had the hangings wrought,
A banket new was made, the which once finished,
The companie by one and one diminished.
Now was Rogero couched in his bed,
Betweene a paire of cambricke sheets perfumed,
And oft he hearkens with his wakefull hed,
For her whose loue his heart and soule consumed:
Each little noise hope of her comming bred,
[...]ribus [...]vocem [...] & [...]uenem credi­ [...].
Which finding false, against himselfe he fumed,
And curst the cause that did him so much wrong,
To cause Alcyna tarry thence so long.
Sometime from bed he softly doth arise,
And looke abroad if he might her espie,
Sometime he with himselfe doth thus deuise,
Now she is comming, now she drawes thus nie:
Sometime for very anger out he cries,
What meaneth she, she doth no faster hie?
Sometimes he casts least any let should be,
Betweene his hand and this desired tree.
But faire Alcyna, when with odors sweet,
She was perfum'd according to her skill,
The time once come she deemed fit and meet,
When all the house were now asleepe and still:
With rich embroderd slippers on her feet,
She goes to giue and take of ioyes her fill,
To him whom hope and feare so long assailed,
Till sleepe drew on, and hope and feare both, failed.
Now when Astolfos successor espide
Those earthly starres, her faire and heau'nly eies,
As sulphur once inflamed cannot hide,
Euen so the mettall in his veines that lies,
So flam'd that in the skin it scant could bide:
But of a sodaine straight he doth arise,
Leaps out of bed, and her in armes embraced,
Ne would he stay till she her selfe vnlaced.
So vtterly impatient of all stay,
That though her mantle was but cyprous light,
And next vpon her smocke of lawne it lay.
Yet so the champion hasted to the fight,
The mantle with his fury fell away,
And now the smocke remaind alone in sight,
Which smocke as plaine her beauties all discloses,
As doth a glasse the lillies faire and roses.
[...]iuious [...]on of [...]leasure [...]e offend [...] eares [...]his of a­ [...]ather [...] vn­ [...]s haue [...]es bene [...]and of
And looke how close the Iuie doth embrace
The tree or branch about the which it growes,
So close the louers couched in the place,
Each drawing in the breath the other blowes:
But how great ioyes they found that little space,
We well may guesse, but none for certaine knowes:
Their sport was such, so well they leere their couth,
That oft they had two tongues within one mouth.
Now though they keepe this close with great regard,
Yet not so close but some did find the same,
For though that vertue oft wants due reward,
Yet seldome vice wants due deserued blame.
Rogero still was more and more prefard,
Each one to him with cap and courtsie came,
For faire Alcyna being now in loue,
Would haue him plast the others all aboue.
In pleasure here they spend the night and day,
They change their clothes so often as they lust,
Within they feast, they dance, dispo [...]t and play,
Abrode they hunt, they bauke, they ride, they iust,
And so while sensuall life doth beare the sway,
All discipline is troden in the dust.
Thus while Rogero here his time mispends,
He quite forgets his dutie and his frends.
For while Rogero bides in feast and ioy,
King Agramant doth take great care and paine,
Dame Bradamant doth suffer great annoy,
And traueld farre to find him all in vaine:
She little knew Alcyna did enioy
Her due delights, yet doth she mone and plaine,
To thinke how strangely this same flying horse,
Bare him away against his will by force.
In townes, in fields, in hils, in dales she sought,
In tents, in campes, in lodgings and in caues,
Oft she enquit'd, but yet she learned nought,
She past the riuers fresh and salt sea waues,
Among the Turkes she leaues him not vnsought,
(Gramercy ring that her from danger saues:)
A ring whose vertue workes a thing scant possible,
Of this ring look the Table.
Which holding in her mouth she goes inuisible.
She will not, nor she cannot thinke him dead,
For if a man of so great worth should die,
It would some great report or fame haue bred,
From East vnto the West, both farre and nie:
It cannot sinke nor settle in her head,
Whether he be in seas, in earth or skie,
Yet still she seekes, and her companions are
Sorrowes and sighes, and feares, and louing care.
At last she meanes to turne vnto the caue,
Where lie the great and learned Merlins bones,
And at that tombe to crie so loud and raue,
As shall with pitie moue the marble stones:
Nor till she may some certaine notice haue
Of her belou'd to stay her plaints and mones,
In hope to bring her purpose to effect,
By doing as that Prophet should direct.
Now as her course to Poytiers ward she bent,
Melyssa vsing wonted skill and art,
Encountred her, her iourney to preuent,
Who knew full well, and did to her impart,
Both where her loue was, and how his time he spent,
Which grieu'd the vertuous damsell to the hart,
That such a knight, so valiant erst and wise,
Should so be drownd in pleasure and in vice.
O poysond hooke that lurkes in sugred bait,
O pleasures vaine, that in this world are found,
Which like a subtile theefe do lie in waite,
To swallow man in sinke of sinne profound:
O Kings and peeres, beware of this deceit,
And be not in this gulfe of pleasure dround:
The time will come, and must I tell you all,
When these your ioyes shall bitter seeme as ga [...].
Then turne your cloth of gold to clothes of heares,
Your feasts to fasts, to sorrowes turne your songs,
Your wanton toyes and smilings into teares,
To restitution turne your doing wrongs,
Your fond securenesse turne to godly feares,
And know that vengeance vnto God belongs,
Who when he comes to iudge the soules of men,
It will be late alas to mend it then.
Then shall the vertuous man shine like the sunne,
Then shall the vicious man repent his pleasure,
Then one good deed of almes sincerely done,
Shall be more worth then mines of Indian treasure,
Then sentence shall be giu'n which none shall shun,
Then God shall wey and pay our deeds by measure,
Vnfortunate and thrice accursed thay,
Whom fond delights do make forget that day.
But to returne vnto my tale againe,
I say, Melyssa tooke no little care,
To draw Rogero by some honest traine,
From this same place of feasts and daintie fare,
And like a faithfull friend refusd no paine,
To set him free from her sweet senslesse snare,
To which his vnkle brought him with intent
His destinie thereby for to preuent.
As oft we see men are so fond and blind,
To carry to their sonnes too much affection,
That when they seeme to loue, they are vnkind,
(For they do hate a child that spare correction)
So did Atlanta, not with euill mind,
Giue to Rogero this so bad direction,
But of a purpose, thereby to withdraw
His fatall end that he before foresaw.
For this he sent him past so many seas,
Vnto the Ile that I before did name,
Esteeming lesse his honour then his ease,
A few yeares life then euerlasting fame.
For this he caused him so well to please
Alcyna that same rich lasciuious dame;
That though his time old Nestors life had finished,
Yet her affection should not be diminished.
But good Melyssa on a ground more sure,
That lou [...]d his honor better then his weale,
By sound perswasions meanes him to procure,
From pleasures court to vertues to appeale:
As leeches good that in a desprate cure,
With steele, with flame, and oft with poison heale,
Of which although the patient do complaine,
Yet at the last he thankes him for his paine.
And thus Melyssa promised her aid,
And helpe Rogero backe againe to bring,
Which much recomforted the noble maid,
That lou'd this knight aboue each earthly thing.
But for the better doing this (she said)
It were behouefull that he had her ring,
Whose vertue was that who so did it weare,
Should neuer need the force of charmes to feare.
But Bradamant that would not onely spare
Her ring (to do him good) but eke her hart,
Commends the ring and him vnto her care,
And so these Ladies take their leaue and part.
Melissa for her iourney doth prepare,
By her well tried skill in Magicke art,
A beast that might supply her present lacke,
That had one red foot and another blacke.
Such hast she made, that by the breake of day
She was arriued in Alcynas Ile,
But straight she changd her shape and her array,
That she Rogero better might beguile:
Her stature tall she makes, her head all gray,
A long white beard she takes to hide the wile,
In fine she doth so cunningly dissemble,
Atlant [...] vncle [...] master.
That she the old Atlanta doth resemble.
And in this sort she waiteth till she might
By fortune find Rogero in fit place,
Which very seldome hapt, for day and night
He stood so high in faire Alcyna, grace,
That she could least abide of any wight,
To haue him absent but a minute space,
At last full early in a morning faire,
She spide him walke abroade to take the aire.
About his necke a carknet rich he ware,
Of precious stones, all set in gold well tride,
A descript [...] an effer [...] courtur.
His armes that erst all warlike weapons bare,
In golden bracelets wantonly were tide:
Into his eares two rings conueyed are,
Of golden wire, at which on either side
Two Indian pearles in making like two peares,
Of passing price were pendent at his eares.
His locks bedewd with waters of sweet sauour,
Stood curled round in order on his hed,
He had such wanton womanish behauiour,
As though in Valence he had long bene bred:
So changd in speech, in manners and in fauour,
So from himselfe beyond all reason led,
By these inchantments of this am'rous dame,
He was himselfe in nothing but in name.
Which when the wise and kind Melyssa saw,
(Resembling still Atlantas person sage)
Of whom Rogero alwayes stood in aw,
Euen from his tender youth to elder age,
She toward him with looke austere did draw,
And with a voice abrupt, as halfe in rage,
Is this (quoth she) the guerdon and the gaine,
I find for all my trauell and my paine?
What was't for this that I in youth thee fed,
With marrow of the Beares and Lions fell?
That I through caues and deserts haue thee led,
Where serpents of most vgly shape do dwell,
Where Tygers fierce and cruell Leopards bred,
And taught thee how their forces all to quell:
An Atis or Adonis for to be,
Vnto Alcyna as I now thee see.
Was this foreshewd by those obserued starres,
By figures and natiuities oft cast,
By dreames, by oracles that neuer arres,
By those vaine arts I studide in time past,
That thou shouldst proue so rare a man in warres,
Whose famous deeds to endlesse praise should last?
Whose acts should honord be both farre and neare,
And not be matcht with such another peare.
Is this a meane or ready way you trow?
Which other worthy men haue trod before,
A Caesar or a Scipio to grow,
And to increase in honor more and more?
But to the end a man may certaine know,
How thrall thou art vnto Alcynas lore,
Thou wearest here her chaines and slauish bands,
With which she binds thy warlike armes and hands.
If thou regard not thine owne estimation,
To which the heau'ns ordaine thee if thou would,
Defraud not yet thine heires and generation,
Of which I haue thee oftentime foretold,
Appointed by eterne predestination,
Except thou do their due from them withhold,
Out of thy loines and bowels to proceed
Such men whose match the world did neuer breed.
Let not so many a worthy soule and mind,
Fram'd by the wisedome of the heau'nly King,
Be hindred of the bodies them assignd,
Whose of spring chiefe must of thy issue spring:
Be not vnto thine owne blood so vnkind,
Of whose great triumphs all the world shall ring,
Whose successors, whose children and posteritie,
Shall helpe our country to her old prosperitie.
What good hath this great Queene vnto thee done,
But many other queanes can do the same?
What certaine gaine is by her seruice wonne,
That soone doth fancie, sooner doth defame?
Wherefore to make thee know what thou hast done,
That of thy doings thou maist haue some shame,
But weare this ring, and next time you repaire
To your Alcyna, marke if she be faire.
Rogero all abasht and mute did stand,
With silent tongue, and looke for shame downe cast,
The good enchantresse tooke him by the hand,
And on his finger straight the ring she plast,
But when this ring had made him vnderstand
His owne estate, he was so sore agast,
He wisht himselfe halfe buride vnder ground,
Much rather then in such place once be found.
But she that saw her speech tooke good effect,
And that Rogero shamed of his sinne,
She doth her person and her name detect,
And as her selfe (not Atlant) doth beginne,
By counsell and aduice him to direct,
To rid himselfe from this so dangerous ginne:
And giues him perfect notice and instruction,
How these deceits do bring men to destruction.
She shewd him plainly she was thither sent,
By Bradamant that lou'd him in sinceritie,
Who to deliuer him from bondage ment,
Of her that blinded him with false prosperitie.
How she tooke Atlants person to th'intent
Her countenance might carry more austeritie,
But finding now him home reduc'd againe,
She saith she will declare the matter plaine.
And vnto him forthwith she doth impart,
How that faire dame that best deseru'd his loue,
Did send that ring, and would haue sent her hart,
If so her heart his good so farre might moue,
The ring this vertue had, it could subuert
All magicke frauds, and make them vaine to proue
Rogero as I said, no time did linger,
But put the ring vpon his little finger.
When truth appeard, Rogero hated more
Alcynas trumpries, and did them detest,
Then he was late enamored before,
(O happie ring that makes the bearer blest)
Now saw he that he could not see before,
How with deceits Alcyna had bene drest,
Her borrowd beauties, all appeared stained,
The painting gone, nothing but filth remained.
Eu'n as a child that taking from the tree
An apple ripe, and hides it in some place,
Simi [...].
When he returnes the same againe to see,
After a senight or a fortnights space,
Doth scant beleeue it should the same frute be,
When rottennesse that ripenesse doth deface,
And where before delight in it he tooke,
Now scant he bides vpon the same to looke.
Eu'n so Rogero plainly now deseride,
Alcynas foule disgraces and enormitie,
Because of this his ring she could not hide,
By all her paintings any one deformitie:
He saw most plainly that in her did bide,
Vnto her former beauties no conformitie,
But lookes so vgly, that from East to West,
Was not a fouler old misshapen beast.
Her face was wan, a leane and writheld skin,
The deformitie of pleasure when it is beheld with reason.
Her stature scant three horseloaues did exceed:
Her haire was gray of hue, and very thin,
Her teeth were gone, her gums seru'd in their steed,
No space was there between her nose and chin,
Her noisome breath contagion would breed,
In fine, of her it might haue well bene said,
Nestor liued as some retire 300 yeares.
In Nestors youth she was a pretie maid.
I feare her arts are learned now a dayes,
To counterfait their haire and paint their skin,
But reasons ring their crafts and guiles bewrayes,
No wise men of their paintings passe a pin,
Those vertues that in women merit praise,
Are sober shewes without, chast thoughts within,
True faith and due obedience to their make,
And of their children honest care to take.
Now though Rogero (as before I sed)
Detested sore the vgly witches sight,
Yet by Melyssas counsell wisely led,
He doth conceale the matter for a night,
Till of prouision he were better sped,
With which he might more safely take his flight.
And taking care his meaning close to hide,
He doth forthwith his armour all prouide.
And tels Alcyna he would go and trie,
If that he were not waxen grosse or no,
Because that idle he so long did lie,
And neuer fought with any armed fo:
His sword vnto his girdle he doth tie,
With armour on, a walking he doth go,
And with a scarfe about his arme he lapt
The shield that in the cypresse case was wrapt.
And thus arraid, he commeth to the stable,
And tooke a horse (as wise Melyssa taught)
A horse as blacke as any ieat or sable,
So made as if in waxe he had bene wrought,
Most swift for course, and strong of limbes and able,
This horse hight Rabican was thither brought
By Duke Astolfo, who by sorcerie
Ra [...]em, locke the table.
Was turned late into a mirtle tree.
As for the Griffith horse that there was by,
Melyssa wisheth him to let him stand,
And sayth, that she her selfe ere long would trie
To make him gentle to the spurre and hand
And that she would hereafter time espie,
To bring it him, and let him vnderstand,
How he should do with very little paine,
To make him yeeld to spurre, to rod and raine.
She further said, his flight would be suspected,
Except he let the flying horse to stay.
Rogero none of all her words neglected,
But did her counsell wise and sage obay:
And so before his meaning was detected,
From this misshapen hag he stole away,
And meanes (if God will grant him so much grace)
To be at Logestillas in short space.
Such men of armes as watched at the gate
He slue, the rest he sodainly assailed,
He happie was scapt with a broken pate,
They tooke their heeles when as their hearts them failed.
Alcyna now had notice all too late,
Rogero was so farre it nought auailed:
But in another booke shall be contained,
How him dame Logestilla entertained.

In Erifila that is ouerthrowne by Rogero and not killed,Morall. we may obserue, that the liberalitie that men make great show of in their youthfull pleasures and entertainments, is not the true vertue that doth indeed quite extinguish and kill that monster of couetousnesse. In Alcyna and Rogeros lasciuious loue, from whom Rogero is glad at last to runne away, we may note the notable allurements of fleshly sensualitie, and take a good lesson to auoyd them onely by flying from them, as hath bene in part touched before. Melyssas good counsell, euery yong Rogero may apply to himselfe, and learne thereby to begone to Logestillas in time, lest he be turned into some beast or tree, as these notable enchantresses do daily transforme their followers. But of all this I will speake more at large in the Allegorie.

Concerning the Historie of this book,Historie. there is no matter historicall therein: Only where there is a comparison of the riot of Alcyna with that of the Persian kings, and that of Cleopatra, those to whom the storie is not knowne, shall find an ex­planation therof in the Table or Index.

[...] before how by Erifila is meant couetousnesse,All [...]. which our young gallants beate downe but kill not, nay oft it riseth again and ouercomes them, and makes them fall to meere rapine and extortion. Whereas in the eight staffe, the way was said to be vnpleasant (through that seeme contrary to the saying of Hercules two wayes of vice and vertue) yet no doubt but euen in this way of pleasure, there be many ill fauoured and dangerous passages, as one of the fathers well [...] that a wretched worldling doth oftentimes toile more to go to hell for his labour, then a vertuous man doth to win heaven. The things that allure most to sensualitie, are set downe in order: in the ninth staffe kind entertainment: in the tenth, [...] building: in the eleuenth and so forward to the sixteenth, artificiall behaviour and exquisite beautie, set forth with all cunning, as Ouid saith, Et meruit formosa videri, that is, she deserued with the paine she took to seem hand some: in the eighteenth, musicke and wanton sonets of loue: riotous fare in the nineteenth, with all kind of delicacies to provoke venery: in the twentith, wanton discourses and purposes, of which commonly their last conclusion is to lie to­gether, as there is said: in the two and twentith, perfumes and all effeminate delicacies, in all which we see, the eye, the care, the tast, the smelling, the feeling, the wit, the thoughts, all fed with their obiects of delight, making men quite to forget God and all good counsell; as Rogero quite forgat Bradamant and the counsell of Astolfo. And sure it is worth the [...] where it is find in the sixteenth staffe, that the tale Astolfo late to him rehearst, he thinketh false or else by him deserued. How yong men that at the first haue seemed very well giuen, very religious, continent and studious of all vertue and good learning, yet after when they come to be aduanced to high fauours or to great liuing, they despise all that was taught them before, and count religion but a pollicie, and philosophie but a folly, and the admonition of graue and [...] that reproue their ambition, or their sensualitie, or their extreme couetousnesse, to proceed but of enuie [...] begin estate and felicitie, which they would be glad to come to themselues and cannot. And surely if any will but take a note of any speciall persons, toucht with any or with all three of these enormous vices, let them but marke if they have not in their whole liues and actions (and some perhaps in plaine words) discouered this their contempt of religion and vertu undiscipline: I would this age were barren of examples of this kind.

Now concerning the enchantments that bring men into this blindnes to think Alcyna so faire a woman, it is nothing but [...] of vertue, of beautie, of graciousnes, that the foolish louer perswades himself that he seeth in the person or idol of his mistress, of which Petrarke saith, Da questi magi transformato fui: These are the witches that transformed me. [Page 55] The griefe that Bradamant takes for Rogeros mispending his time, may note to vs the grace and long sufferance of God, when man runneth astray after the worldly vanities. Melyssa that offereth her seruice to go to reclaime Rogero: doth figure vnto vs both preachers & philosophers, that shew vs by the ring (which hath bene expounded before to be rea­son) our foule errours and our wandring courses, and so makes vs see our owne deformities, and the deformitie of that we esteemed so dearely, as in this booke you see what manner of monster Alcyna appeared in her owne likenesse, when the ring of reason had dissolued all inchantments. Infinite matter more might be applyed in allegoricall sence out of this booke, if I would couet to stand vpon euerie small matter, for as I said at the first, these two bookes be in a manner a meere alle­gorie from the beginning to the ending.

The comming of Melissa to Rogero alludeth to the comming of Mercurie to Aeneas in Virgil, Allusion. who was then at Car­thage stayd by the loue of Dydo as Rogero was here by Alcyna.

The ring that had the vertue beside dissoluing inchantments, to make one go inuisible, alludeth to Gyges ring, of which it is sayd, that by the helpe thereof he became King of Lydia.



Rogero fled: Melissa after staid,
Astolfo with some others to restore:
Renaldo musters souldiers sent for aid,
To Charles the great, who neuer needed more:
Angelica by drowsie hermit laid,
Is tane and bound all naked to the shore:
Orlando is so troubled with his dreame,
He leaues the seruice of his king and reame.
OH strange enchantments vsed now a dayes,
Oh charmers straunge a­mong vs dayly found,
That find so many charms and subtle wayes,
Wherewith they hold fond louers hearts fast bound,
Not with coniured spi­rits that they raise,
Nor knowledge of the stars and skill profound,
But blinding mens conceits, and them fast tying,
With simulation, fraud, deceit and lying.
But he that had the rule and ring of reason,
Should soone their frauds, their crafts and guiles dis­couer,
And finde a hoord of foule and lothsome treason,
To lurke within the shew of such a louer:
Well may they seeme most louely for a treason,
When all their wrinkles they with painting couer,
But vnto men of wit and reason learned,
Their subtleties shall quickly be discerned.
Rogero (as I said) in secret sort,
With Ralucan out of the castle went,
And made the watch and guard vnpleasant sport,
That most of them his comming might repent:
Some had their armes, and some their heads cut short,
All put to flight, the gates in peeces rent.
And then vnto the wood he entred, when
He met by chance one of Alcynas men.
This man did beare a faulcon on his fist,
With which he went on hauking day by day,
To flie in field, or riuer as he list,
The countrie full of game still yeelded pray,
He had a spaniell could not well be mist,
And eke a hauking nagge not verie gay,
And meeting good Rogero halfe disguised,
That he was fled away he straight surmised.
The seruant rideth on, and at their meeting,
He askt Rogero why he rode so fast,
Rogero gaue him verie slender greeting,
As though on such a squire he little past:
Well (quoth the faulkner) though thou now art fleeting,
I truster long to shew thee such a cast,
That with my dogge, my faulcon and my horse,
I do not doubt to fetch thee backe by force.
And first he lets the faulcon take her flight,
But Rabican as fast as she did flie,
Then from his horse the faulkner doth alight,
His horse flue like an arrow by and by.
Then went the dogge, who was of course so light,
As is the wind that bloweth in the skie:
And last of all himselfe ran with such shift,
It seem'd the lightnings flame was not so swift.
Rogero thinketh it a foule disgrace,
That any man should thinke he fled for feare,
And more because he now was had in chase:
Wherefore he doth a while the flight for beare,
And manfully to them he turnes his face,
And seeing no man but the faulkner there.
And that no weapon in his hand he saw,
He much disdaind on him his sword to draw.
But straight the dog doth bite his horses heeles,
The hauke his head amazed with her wings.
When Rabycan such strange foes forces feeles,
He riseth vp before, behinde he flings:
Rogero thought the world had run on wheeles,
Rogeros, [...]
And Balisarda out at once he brings,
But they, it seemd, so well were seene in fence,
That all his blowes to them brought no offence.
Both loth to stay, resolued not to yeeld,
He takes his target from his saddle bow,
And with the dazling light of that same sheeld,
Whose force Melyssa lately made him know,
He made them fall as if their eies were seeld,
So that no farther let from them did grow,
But hauing vanquisht them this wise with ease,
He now may ride at leasure where he please.
These foes once foild, their forces ouercome,
Alcyna straight had notice of his flight,
For of the watchmen one to her was come,
That while these things were done did stand in sight.
This made her stand like one halfe dead or dumme,
And after put her into such a fright,
That forthwith for auoiding further harme,
Through all the towne she made them crie alarme.
And calling oft her selfe a foolish beast,
Because Rogero so from her was slipt,
Somtime she beates her head, her face and breast,
Sometime in rage her garments all the ript:
She calleth all her men from most to least,
A part of whom vnto the sea she shipt,
And of the rest she makes a mightie band,
To fetch Rogero backe againe by land.
All were so busie to this seruice bent,
That none remaind the pallace faire to gard,
Which greatly helpt Melyssas good intent,
Which chiefly was as you before haue hard,
To set at large poore prisners so long pent,
Which now to do (she absent) was not hard,
Dissoluing all her circles and her knots,
And stroying all her figures and her lots.
And thus in fields, in houses, and in woods,
She set at large as many as she found,
That had bene turnd, to trees, to stones and floods,
And in that state by magicke art fast bound:
Likewise to them she rendred all their goods,
Who when they saw themselues so cleare vnbound,
Departing thence with all the hast they might,
To Logestilia they arriu [...]d that night.
And first of all and chiefe of all the rest,
The English Duke came to himselfe againe,
Because Rogero lou'd and wisht him best,
And lends the ring that makes inchantments vaine,
But good Melyssa could by no meanes rest,
Vntil she could his armour eke regaine,
And that same famous worthie guilded launce,
That had to him such honor done in Fraunce.
With which Argalia got no little fame,
Who vsed oft the same in fight to beare.
Now when Melyssa to the castle came,
She found his other armour with the speare,
And this atcheeu'd, the sage and frendly dame,
Mounts on the Griffith horse without all feare,
And Duke Astolfo mounting on his crupper,
To Logestillas came that night to supper.
Now was Rogero with no small a do,
Tiring himselfe amid those craggie wayes,
And striuing all that he with paine may do,
To cut of all those lothsome long delayes,
That hindred him for sooner comming to
That Ladie faire whose vertues merit praise,
Till neare the Southerne sea with mickle paine,
He came vnto a sandy desert plaine.
Here was he plagu'd with thirst and parching heat,
And with the sunne reflecting on the sand,
Which from the South vpon the banke did beat,
He follow [...] warter [...] staffe 33.
Enflaming still the aire on either hand,
But leauing now Rogero in this sweat,
That still I may not in one matter stand.
To Scotland now I will returne againe,
And of Renaldo talke a word or twaine.
Great was his entertainment and his cheare,
Made by the king and people of the land,
Which feasts once done, the worthie valiant peare,
As was his charge, doth let them vnderstand,
How Charles the great, whose state doth touch them neare
In no small need of their good aid did stand,
And how for this he sent him to their nation,
And to this tale he ads an exhortation.
Then was it answerd him without delay,
That for king Charles and for the Empires sake,
They all were readie to do all they may,
And would for this behoofe short order take,
And oftred him to shew (if he would stay)
What store of horse and footmen he could make:
Namely the king himselfe would be right glad,
To go in person, but his age forbad.
Nor yet should age with him so much haue done,
As make him from the battell to abide,
Zerb [...]
Saue that he had a wise and valiant sonne,
Well able such a band of men to guide,
Whose value had alreadie praises wonne,
And of his youth was now in floure and pride.
This noble toward impe he doth intend,
As captaine of his armed men to send.
Wherefore about his realme forthwith he sent,
To get of horses and of men good store,
With ships, and things to war most pertinent,
As needfull meate, and mony needfull more,
The while Renaldo into England went,
The king to Barwicke companie him bore,
And men report that when they should depart,
The king was seene to weepe for tender hart.
Renaldo went with faire and prosprous wind,
[...]able com­ [...] that for­ [...]ations ins­ [...] our Terms [...] the ryde [...] so far vp [...]eur.
And past along vpon the English coast,
Vntill he hapt the noble Tems to find,
Of which all London iustly make their boast:
Here he tooke land as first he had assign'd,
And in twelue houres iourney riding post,
Vnto the Prince of Wales he was conducted,
Whom of these matters fully he instructed.
The Prince that was Vicegerent to the King,
(That Oton hight) who soiournd now in France,
From whom Renaldo did commission bring,
To take vp horse, and men, and ordinance.
When he had once true knowledge of that thing,
Which of all other he would most aduance:
He marshald men of armes without delay,
And points them meet at Callice by a day.
[...]lowes it in [...] booke, [...] 62.
But here I must a while from hence digresse,
Lest to one tale my pen should still be bound,
As good musitians do their skill expresse,
By playing on the strings of diuers sound:
While Renald here is cheard with great excesse,
(As euer in the English land is found)
I meane to tell how that faire Ladie sped,
That twise before from this Renaldo fled.
I told you how Angelica the bright,
Fled from Renaldo in a thicke darke wood,
How on a hermit there she hapt to light,
And how her sight reuiu'd his aged blood:
But she that tooke in him but small delight,
Whose hoary haires could do her little good,
With this good hermit made but little stay,
But turnd her horses rains and went away.
The hermit seeing he contemned was,
(Whom age long since, and loue did newly blind)
Doth spurre a thousand times his silly asse,
Who still remained more and more behind,
And sith he saw he could not bring to passe,
To stop her course (afflicted much in mind)
In vaine he doth his poore asse beate and curse,
His trot was very bad, his gallop worse.
And being out of hope of comming nire,
As hauing almost lost her horses tracke,
He studies now to compasse his desire,
With some rare strategeme to bring her back:
Vnto that art forthwith he doth retire,
(That damned art that is surnamed blacke)
And by his bookes of magicke he doth make
A little sprite the Ladie ouertake.
And as the hound that men the Tumbler name,
When he a hare or conie doth espie,
Doth seeme another way his course to frame,
As though he meant not to approch more nie,
But yet he meeteth at the last his game,
And shaketh it vntill he make it die;
So doth the hermit trauerse all about,
At eu'ry turne to find the damsell out.
What he intends to do, full well I wot,
And meane ere long the same to you to show,
The damsell traueld still that knew it not,
The spright to do his office was not slow,
For straight within the horse himselfe he got,
As she on sands of Gascoigne seas did go,
The spright that fully had postest the horse,
Did driue her to the sea with all his force.
Which when the faire and fearfull damsell saw,
Although she tride full oft with rod and raine,
Her palfrey from his dangerous course to draw,
Yet seeing plainly she did striue in vaine,
With colour chang'd for anguish and for aw,
And casting oft her looke to land againe,
At last the sitteth still, nor further striueth.
For needs they must go whom the diuell driueth.
In vaine it was to strike the horse her bare,
It was not done by that poore palfreys falt,
Wherefore she tucks her garments, taking care
Lest they should be bedewd with waters salt,
Vpon her haire, which then all loose she ware,
The aire doth make an amorous assalt,
The greater winds were still, I thinke of deutie,
That they acknowledge to so rare a beutie.
The waters more, the land still lesse she sees,
At last she saw but one small peece of land,
And that small peece in small time she doth leese;
Now sees she neither shore nor any sand.
Then cold despaire all liuely hope did freese,
When as her horse did turne to the right hand,
And at the twilight, or not long before,
Did bring her to a solitary shore.
Here she remaining helplesse and alone,
Among the fruitlesse trees and senslesse rocks,
Standing her selfe all like the marble stone,
Saue that sometime she tare her golden locks,
At last her eyes to teares, her tongue to mone,
She doth resolue, her faire soft breast she knocks,
And blames the God of heau'n and powre diuine,
That did the fates vnto her fall incline.
O fortune, fortune, (thus the damsell cride)
Fill now thy rage and execute thine ire,
And take this life that takest all beside,
And let my death accomplish thy desire:
I haue and dayly do thy force abide,
Feare still my mind, trauell my limbs doth tire,
And makes me think in this great storme and strife,
That death were sweet to shorten such a life.
Can all thy malice do me further spite?
Can any state be worse or more vnstedy?
That am from princely scepter banisht quite,
Caesar put away his wife for sus­pition, alledging Non solū à male, sed a suspitior [...] ca [...]ond [...]rn.
A helplesse hap and hurt past all remedy,
And worse then this, mine honor shining bright
Is stained sore, and eu'n defast alredy,
For though in act no ill I euer wrought,
Yet wandring thus wil make men think me nought.
What can a woman hold of any price,
If once she leese her honor and good name?
Alas I hate this beautie and despise,
And with it neuer had bene of such fame:
Ne do I for this gift now thanke the skies,
By which my spoile and vtter ruine came,
Which cauld my brother Argal shed his blood,
Ne could his armes enchanted do him good.
For this the king of Tartar Agricane,
Sought of my father Galafron the spoile,
Who whilome was in India cald great Cane,
And after dide with sorrow of the foile.
For this I d [...]yly doubting to be tane,
From place to place do passe with endlesse toile,
And now to loose alas what hast thou left me,
Since same, and goods, and friends are all bereft me?
If drowning in the sea were not a death
Seuere enough to quench thy raging spite,
Then send some beast out of this desert heath,
To teare my limbs and to deuoure me quite:
I shall thee thanke for stopping of my breath,
If to torment me thou haue no delight.
These wofull words vtterd the Ladie bright,
When straight the hermit came within her fight.
Who all the while had in a corner stood,
And heard her make this piteous plaint and mone,
Proceeding from her sad and mourning mood,
Enough to moue a heart as hard as stone:
It did the senex fornicator good,
To thinke that he was there with her alone,
Yet [...]o deuoutly commeth this old carrion,
As though it had bene Paul or Saint Hillarion.
When as the damsell saw a man appeare,
In such a desert solitary place,
She straight began to be of better cheare,
Though feare and dread appeare still in her face:
And with a voice so loud as he might heare,
She praid him pitie this her wofull case,
Recounting all her dangers ouerblowne,
To him to whom they were alreadie knowne.
No sooner had the hermit heard her out,
But straight to comfort her he doth begin,
And shewes by many reasons and deuout,
How all these plagues were sent her for her sin:
The while he puts his sawcie hands about,
Sometime her breasts, sometime her neck and chin,
And more and more still gathering heart of grace,
He offers boldly her for to embrace.
But she that much disdaind this homely fashion,
Doth staine her cheekes with red for very shame,
Thrust back his carren corpes without compassion,
Reuiling him with many a spitefull name,
Who testie with old age and with new passion,
That did him now with wrath and loue inflame,
Drawes out a bottle of a strange confection,
That fleepe procureth by a strong infection.
With this he sprinkleth both the damsels eies,
(Those eyes whence Cupid oft his arrowes shot)
Straight sound asleepe the goodly damsell lies,
Subiected to the will of such a sot:
Ne yet for ought he did or could deuise,
He could procure his curtall stir a iot,
Yet oft he kist her lips, her cheekes, her brest,
And felt and saw the beauties of the rest.
The dullerd iade still hangeth downe his head,
Sturring or spurring could not make him praunce,
The sundrier wayes he said, the worse he sped,
His youthful dayes were done, he could not daunce,
His strength was gone, his courage all was dead,
His weapon looked like a broken launce:
And while himselfe in vaine he thus doth cumber,
He falleth downe by her into a slumber.
But now another euill chance befell,
(For one ill turne alone is seldome done)
The which to th'end I may the better tell,
Know this, about the setting of the sunne,
There is an Ile, Ebuda as men tell,
Whose habitants are welnigh all vndone,
By meanes that mightie Proteus thither sent
An Orke that doth the people teare and rent.
Within this Ile, as auncient stories tell,
(I not affirme how false they are or true)
Sometime a king of mightie powre did dwell,
That had a daughter passing faire of hue,
The which faire Ladie Proteus likt so well,
When her on sands in walking he did vew,
That though he dwelt in waters salt and cold,
Yet fresh hot loue on him had taken hold.
Which heate when all the sea could not asswage,
He thought her milkwarm flesh could only quench,
And (for he saw she was of lawfull age)
With her consent he forst the princely wench:
Which sinne did set her father in such rage,
That straight condemning her in open bench:
Her of her life he publikely bereaued,
Nor spar'd the infant in h [...]r wombe conceaued.
This cruell act her louer so inflamed,
On King and Iland he doth wreake his spite,
He sends that monster that before I named,
With other beasts to stroy the Iland quite:
These monsters hurt their men, beat, kild and lamed,
In fine put all the people in such fright,
That to escape the beast deuoid of pitie,
They left their fields, and fled vnto their citie.
And though men armd the gates and wals defend,
Yet they within scant thought themselues secure,
And sith their harmes haue neither ease nor end,
And tir'd these tedious trauels to endure,
Vnto Ap [...]llos oracle they send,
To know how they their safetie might procure,
Who after humble sute and sacrifice,
Answerd them of Ebuda in this wise.
Blood guiltlesse spilt did breed great Proteus ire,
Inflamd with loue, and fed with beautie rare,
Blood guiltlesse must be spilt to quench this fire,
Till one be found may with the first compare:
This you must do and if you peace desire,
To take of damsels those that fairest are,
And offer one a day vpon the shore,
Till he find one like vnto that before.
This wofull answer breeding much despaire,
And more dislike within their carefull harts,
To thinke that eu'ry day a damsell faire,
Must for a prey be giu'n without desarts:
This is the cause that maketh them repaire,
(To find sufficient store) to sundry parts,
And get them virgins faire and vndefloured,
Of this most vgly Orke to be deuoured.
Now if this be of Proteus true or not,
I meane not in defence of it to stand,
But this is certaine so, full well I wot,
Men vse this cruell custome in that land,
And day by day a maid is drawne by lot,
And left for prey vpon the rocke or sand,
Vnto the monster that doth them deuoure,
Eu'n in their prime of youth and tender floure.
O wretched wights, whom subtle snares haue brought
To this vnfortunate and fatall Ile,
Where damsels faire and handsome out are sought,
To serue for food vnto a monster vile:
Their pyrats bring them home, their vessels fraught
With such they take by force, or trap with wile,
With which they fill their prisons and their towres,
To haue them ready at appointed howres.
Thus sending out their vessels day by day,
It chanc'd that one of them with tempest tost,
Hapt to arriue whereas the hermit lay
With that faire Lady hard vpon the cost:
Oh cruell chance, oh precious peerlesse pray,
Among the pirats either to be lost,
Or to be caried to the fatall Ile,
To be deuoured of a monster vile.
That beautie rare that Sacrapant ay deemed
More deare then liuing, libertie or life:
That beautie rare that to Orlando seemed
Most fit of all the world to be his wife:
That beautie rare in India so esteemed,
That bred so many a blow and bloudy strife,
Is now so quite of aid and comfort rest,
Not one to speake a word for her is left.
The damsell faire drownd in a deadly sleepe,
Was tane and bound before she could awake,
Also the drowsie frier, to make him keepe
Her companie, away with them they take:
This done, they lanched out into the deepe,
And with this precious prey they homeward make,
Where in a castle they detaind her thrall,
Vntill to die her lucklesse lot should fall.
Yet such great force her passing beautie had.
Among these barbarous and sauage wights,
That they appeared sorrowfull and sad,
To wey the danger of her dolefull plights,
It seemed all of them would haue bene glad,
To haue preseru'd her many dayes and nights:
But such small store of others there remained,
At last to offer her they were constrained.
Who can the woes, the teares, the plaints rehearse,
The lamentations and the mourning sound,
That seemd ye heau'ns thēselues with noise to pearce,
To rend the rocks, and stir the stedie ground?
Her iu'ry corps conuayd (as in a hear [...]e)
By wailing wights, where they must leaue it bound:
The thought hereof in me such pang doth breed,
I can no further in this tale proceed.
Wherefore I must some other matter find,
Vntill my Muse her sorrow may as [...]wage,
For sure no cruell beast were so vnkind,
Nor Tyger in their greatest wrath and rage,
Nor any cruell tyrant can we find,
(Although there are good store in eu'ry age)
That could behold or thinke without compassion,
A Ladie bounden in so vile a fashion.
Oh had Orlando notice of her smart,
Who was to Paris gone to seeke her out,
Or those two knights whom late the fiend did part,
The which for loue of her together fought,
They would for her vse all paine, care and art,
Of death nor danger they would put no doubt:
He returnes to Angelica; 10. b [...]oke. staffe 78.
But if they helpe not now, it is no wonder,
Sith they and she were plac'd so farre asunder.
Now in this time to Paris siege was layd,
By famous Agramant Traianos sonne,
Of which at last they grew so sore afrayd,
The towne had almost of the Turks bin wonne,
Had not their vowes procur'd them heau'nly ayd,
They had bin ruind all and quite vndone,
The force of France had welnigh then bin foyled,
The holy Empire had almost bin spoyled.
For when that now the citie was on fire,
And when all hope of humane helpe was past,
Then mightie God forgetting wrath and ire,
Vpon their teares, repentance true, and fast,
At Charles his humble prayer and desire,
With helpe from heau'n releeu'd them at the last,
And sent such raine to aide the noble Prince,
As feld was seene before, and neuer since.
Now lay Orlando on his restlesse bed,
And thinks with sleepe to rest his troubled sprite,
But still a thousand thoughts possest his head,
Troubling his mind, and sleepe expelling quite:
As circles in a water cleare are spread,
Simil [...].
When sunn [...] doth shine by day, and moone by night
Succeeding one another in a ranke,
Till all by one and one do touch the banke.
So when his mistris enterd in his thought,
(A [...] lightly she was neuer thence away)
The thought of her in him such circles wrought,
A [...] kept him waking euer night and day,
To thinke how he from India had her brought,
And that she should thus on the sodaine stray,
No [...] that he could of her true notice know,
Since Charles at Burdels had the ouerthrow.
The griefe hereof did him most nearely tuch,
And causd him often to himselfe to say,
What beast would haue bin ouerruld so much?
That when I might haue made her with me stay,
(For why her loue and zeale to me was such,
That in her life she neuer said me nay)
Yet I must suffer Namus for to guard her,
As though my selfe but little did regard her.
I s [...]ould to Charles my selfe haue rather scused,
And as I did, haue kept the damsell still;
Or if excuses all had bin refused,
I might in stead of reason pleaded will:
And rather then haue bin so much abused,
All tho'e that should resist me slay and kill,
At least I might haue got her safer keeping,
And not haue let her thus be lost with sleeping.
Where bidest thou, where wanderst thou my deare?
So yong, so louely, and so faire of [...]ew?
Euen like a lambe when starres do first appeare,
(Her d [...]me and shepheard being out of vew)
[...]leateth aloud to make the shepheard heare,
And in her kind her euill hap doth rew,
Vntill the wolfe doth find her to her paine,
The silly shepherd seeking her in vaine.
Where is my loue, my ioy, my lifes delight?
Wanderst thou still [...] do not the wolues off [...]nd thee?
Or needst not thou the seruice of thy knight?
And keepest thou the flowre did so commend thee?
That flowre that me may make a happie wight,
That flowre for which I euer did defend thee,
That I forbare, to please thy mind (too chast)
Is not that flowre (alas) now gone and past?
O most vnfortunate and wretched I,
If they haue tane that sweet and precious floure,
What can I do in such a case but die?
Yea I would kill my selfe this present houre,
I would this world and that to come defie,
Earth fi [...]st my coarse and hell my soule deuoure.
And this vnto himselfe Orlando said,
With care and sorrowes being ouerlaid.
Now was the time when man, and bird, and beast
Giues to his traueld bodie due repose,
When some on beds, and some on boords do rest,
Sleepe making them forget both friends and foes.
But cares do thee Orlando so molest,
That scarce thou canst thine eyes a little close,
And yet that fugitiue and little slumber,
With dreames vnplea [...]ant thee doth vex and cumber.
He dreamt that standing by a pleasant greene,
Vpon a bank with fragrant flowres all painted,
He saw the fairest sight that erst was seene,
I meane that face with which he was acquainted,
And those two stars that Cupid fits between,
Whence came that shaft whose head his heart hath tainted,
The sight whereof did breed in him that pleasure,
That he preferd before all worldly treasure.
He thought himselfe the fortunatest wight
That euer was, and eke the blessedst louer:
But lo a storme destroyd the flowers quite,
And all the pleasant banke with haile did couer:
Then suddenly departed his delight,
Which he remaind all hopelesse to recouer;
She being of this tempest so afraid,
That in the wood to saue her selfe she straid.
And there (vnhappie wretch) against his will,
He lost his Ladie in vnluckie howre:
But her to find againe he traueld still,
Employing to her safetie all his powre,
The woods and deserts he with plaints doth fill,
And cride, alas, turnd is my sweet to sowre:
And while these same and such like words he said,
He thought he heard her voice demaunding aid.
At this same voice (well knowne) a while he staid,
Then followd as the sound him guided most,
With this mischance his mind was much dismaid,
His body sore with to [...]le and trauell tost:
When straight he heard another voice, that said,
Now hope no more, for all thy hope is lost.
And of the sodaine waking with the sound,
His eies all full of watry teares he found.
So sore he was affrighted at this vision,
That eu'n as though it had bene so indeed,
And not a fancie vaine or apparition,
Thinking his Lady [...]ood of him in need:
In secretfo [...]t he getteth all prouision,
To make repaire vnto her aid with speed:
And (for he would not willingly be knowne)
He tooke nor man nor armor of his owne.
His coate of armes, of colour white and red,
He lest behind for doubt of ill successe,
That if it fortund he but euill sped,
At least the losse and [...]oile should be the lesse,
Vpon his armor cypresse blacke he spred,
With colour sad, his sorrow to expresse.
And thus disguild in sad and mourning hue,
He parts, and biddeth not his friends adue.
Not of king Charles, whose kinsman he is neare,
Nor taketh he his leaue of Brandimart,
Nor yet to kinsman kind, or friend most deare,
Doth he his meaning open or impart:
Nor vntill day did all abrode appeare,
Was Charles aduised that he did depart.
But in great rage and choler when he knew it,
He sware and vowd Orlando sore should rue it.
A [...] which good Brandimart was greatly greeued,
As one that deem'd it was without de [...]art,
And (that his frend by him might be releeued)
To find him out from thence he straight doth part,
For by his words, he certainly beleeued,
That he could ease his frend Orlandos smart,
[...]ledge wife [...]naim [...].
But this to Fiordeledge he not imparted,
For feare that she his purpose would haue thwarted.
This Fiordeledge of him was dearely loued,
A Lady of great beautie and cleare fame,
Of parents good, of manners vnreproued,
Both wealthie, wise, and modest to the same,
Yet taketh he no leaue of his beloued,
But early in the morning from her came.
To turne that night was his determination,
But was deceiued of his expectation.
And when she waited had a month or more,
Expecting his returne, and all in vaine,
For loue of him she was inflam'd so sore,
Alone she goes to finde him out againe,
And manie sorrie haps she bid therefore,
As in the storie, shalbe showed plaine,
For of Orlando now I haue to say,
That is of more importance then both thay,
Who hauing chang'd the armes he late did we are,
Directly to the Citie gate he went,
And told the Sentnell, softly in his eare,
What was his name, and what was his intent:
Who straight abast the bridge, without all feare,
(Supposing sure his vncle had him sent:)
And straight vpon the Pagan campe he lighted,
As in the booke ensuing is recited.

In the hard adventures of Angelica, [...]al. we may note how perilous a thing beautie is if it be not especially garded with the grace of God, and with vertue of the minde, being continually assaild with enemies spirituall and temporall: In Or­landos dreame we may see how vnquiet thoughts are bred in the mindes of those that are giuen ouer to the passion of loue or ambicion, or whatsoeuer else may be vnderstood by Angelica. Lastly in that Orlando abandons his Prince and country in their greatest extremitie, we may obserue the vncomely and carelesse actes that dishonest or vnordinat loue do prouoke euen the noblest vnto, if once they get harbour in their mindes, and be not ouerruled with reason and grace.

In this booke is little historical matter, [...]orie. saue of the distresse of the Parisians, of which I will not greatly stand more then that I said before it is not improbable that they were about that time assayled by the Turke: [...] for other matters that be here lightly touched, as the deuotion of Paule or Hylarion, the sable of Proteus or such like, the table shall set it downe more plaine.

The former Allegorie is here continued of Rogeros flying from Alcyna, by which must still be vnderstood, [...]gorie. a man re­forming his course of life, and flying from sensualitie and pleasure [...]: now whereas it is said in this booke that Alcynas man or her faulkner with his horse hauke and dog did impeach Rogeros passage, I take it that by these foure are ment the foure passions that most trouble the minde when it begins to encline to vertue, namely by the seruant feare may be vnderstood, which is euer seruile and base, by the hauke couetousnesse that is euer seeking new prey and is neuer satisfied: by the dog griefe and discontentment that is alway byting and enuying and greeuing at others well doing: by the horse is vnderstood inordinatioy, which is in another kinde an enemie to vertue and constancie, for as soone is a temperat and moderate minde discouered in prosperitie as in aduersitie, and (as Tully saith) a wise man is neither Aduersis rebus oppreslus nec elatus secundis: to which effect I remember a verse of my fathers, written to an Earle many yeares since.

Such one is ware by what degrees he clymes,
Rather pleasant then proud in high estate,
Rather bold then abasht in lowring times,
And can in both so well vphold his state,
As many would, but few can do or none,
Of which few sort, I wish your Lordship one.

But to proceed in the Allegorie, these impediments that disturbe men in their good course, are all but like owls or batts driuen away with sunne shine: for the light of vnderstanding and the shining of true worthines, or (as M. Dyer in an excellent verse of his termeth it) the light that shines in worthines, dissolueth and disperseth these dustie impediments, that let a man in his iourney to Logestillas Court, that is, to the court of vertue, of temperance, of pietie, where all good lessons are taught, as shalbe showed more plaine in that part of this booke, where Rogero comes to Logestilla

By Melyssa that recouers from Alcyna Astolfos armour and the Lancia d'oro or Goldelaunce, and likewise restores Astolfo to his former state and shape by vertue of the ring, in the absence of Alcyna, by her (I say) we may vnderstand some graue and ghostly counseller, that with strong reasons and godly perswasions, hauing driuen away for the time, a mans sinfull thoughts and desires, takes occasion vtterly to extinguish them and deliuer a man from them with the same reasons, and to draw him to vertue and Religion. Alcynas forces she prepares by sea and by land, signifie the meanes our ghostly enemies vse to bring vs backe againe to our old vices (like the dog to his vomit) by land she followes him, and after by sea she encounters him, which briefely showes, that the remembrance of passed pleasures make a man often in perill to be drawen backe as it were by land [...], and then by sea (as a place of terrour and danger) we are assailed with greenous ad­uersities, as without speciall succour we should be quite cast away.

Rogeros hard trauell, stony wayes, and afterward the sweat and drought he abode, signifie Allegorically the vn­pleasantnes of the change of euill life to an austere course of liuing, which after notwithstanding is most exceeding com­fortable and delightsome.

The bawd [...] [...]rier that by his impotencie more then his honestie saued Angelicas maydenhead, [...]usion. is alluded by my author (as some haue supposed) to some such Prelate in Italie of his acquaintance, and but for good manners sake might be al­luded to some that haue bene so illuded by such good men that notwithstanding they might sue their writ of dotage yet will still be as forward as the youngest in that seruice. [...]d. amorum Atque iacent pigro crimen onu [...]que toro.

Angellicas horse that carried her into the sea, Alludes to the bull that bare Europa such another voiage.



Orlando hastes his iourney when he hears,
What costly food Proteus his Orke allowes,
But by the way mou'd with Olimpias tears,
That did lament her late captiued spouse,
His hastie iourney be a while forbears,
To wreake her wrong vpon her foe he vowes,
Which done, no longer in the place he tarries:
Byreno false the faire Olympi [...] marries.
ALas what damage cannot Cupid bring
A noble hart once thral­led to his lore?
That makes Orlando care­lesse of his king,
To whom of late most faithfull loue he bore.
Who earst so gaue & wise in euerie thing,
And of the church a champion was before,
[...] of un­ [...] [...]ue.
Now that in loues blind pathes, he learns to plod,
Forgets himselfe, his countrie and his God.
Faine would I him disburden of this blame,
Glad in my faults a fellow such to finde,
[...]he per [...]odea: [...]ehora [...]deteriora
For to my good I feele me dull and lame,
But prompt to ill, and swifter then the wind:
He not be thinking him how great a shame,
It was to leaue his helplesse friends behind,
Went where the kings of Affricke and of Spaine,
Didly in field encampt with all their traine.
Yet not encampt I can them call, for why
They lay abrode dispersed with the raine,
Some twentie, ten, or eight together lie,
Or sixe, or fiue, or foure, or three, or twaine:
Some farther off, and some are lodged nie,
All weane with their former taken paine:
He might haue kill'd of them a worthie crew,
Ne yet is Durindana once he drew.
The cause was this, so noble was his minde,
To murther men asleepe he thought it base,
He lets them rest, and seekes his loue to finde,
By eu'rie person, and in eu'rie place,
And those he meets, with words and speeches kind,
(Describing her apparell and her face)
He prayes of all good fellowship to shoe,
Or where she is, or whither she did goe.
When light apporcht, and day began to breake,
By day he seekes her in the host of Turkes,
His passions strong, do make his reason weake
Yeeld to the fit that in his fancie workes.
Some helpe it was, he could their language speake,
By which the safer he among them lurkes:
His words, his weeds, so like to theirs were seene,
As though that bred in Tripoly he had beene.
But when he saw his staying was for nought,
At three dayes end away from thence he flang,
He left no towne of France and Spaine vnsought,
Ne yet this paine could ought asswage that pang:
Him Autumne first this wandring humor brought,
When frutes do fade, his fruitlesse loue first sprang,
And lasted still his force and rage renuing,
Both all the spring and summer next ensuing.
Now hauing traueld as his custome was,
From realme to realme, he came vpon a day,
Where as the riuer cleare sometime as glasse,
That twixt the Britans and the Normans lay,
Was growne so high as now he could not passe,
The snow and raine had borne so great a sway,
By force wherof the bridge was ouerthrwowne,
The passage stopt, the foords were ouerflowne.
And looking round about the shore at large,
Deuising how to passe to th' other side,
He saw a little way from thence a barge,
That seemed toward him the course to guide,
Of which a certaine damsell had the charge,
To whom with voice aloud Orlando cride,
Intreating her because his hast was great,
Within the barge him to affoord a seat.
The maid affirm'd no price the barge could hire,
And to command it he had no commission,
But promist she would grant him his desire,
Vpon a certaine cou'nant and condition;
Which was to vndertake by sword and fire,
For to destroy an Ile, without remission,
A cruell Ile, Ebuda cald by name,
The wickedst place where euer creature came.
For know (quoth she) beyond the Irish land,
There lies among the rest this gracelesse Ile,
That yearely sends of wicked wights a band,
To rob, to spoile, to fraud and to beguile:
All women kinde that happen in their hand,
They giue for food vnto a monster vile,
Locke in the end o [...] this book in the Allegorie.
A monster vile that vseth euerie day,
To haue a maid or woman for his pray.
Of merchants and of pyrates that do come,
They get them store, and of the fairest most:
Now guesse by one a day how great a somme,
Of women kinde within this Ile are lost.
If then of loue you euer tasted cromme,
Make one within the king of Irelands host,
That make them readie shortly to proceed,
To take a faire reuenge of this foule deed.
No sooner had Orlando heard her out,
But vowd to be as forward as the first,
To ioyne himselfe with that same worthie rout,
Sent [...].
And now (for loue doth euer cast the worst)
Within himselfe begins to cast this doubt,
Least that this wicked monster and accurst,
Had got his Ladie for a daintie bit,
Because he heard no newes of her a [...] yet.
And this conceit his minde so much possest,
And in his heart made such a deepe impression,
Sentence. A [...].
(For both in nature he did still detest
All such as vnto others do oppression)
And much he fear'd his loue among the rest,
Might fall into the monsters vile possession,
That straight he shipt, and by their due account,
Within three dayes he past saint Michels mount.
But hauing passed now the milke white sand,
Of which the Ile of Albion takes his name,
The wind that in the South before did stand,
With [...]o great furie to the Northwest came,
In vaine it was against the same to stand,
And therefore to retire it was no shame,
Backe in one night the tempest draue them more
Then they had sayl'd three dayes and nights before.
For when they saw it was no boote to striue
Against the furie of so fearce a winde,
They went euen as the weather did them driue
Vntill the streame of Antwerpe they did finde,
Where they to land with safetie did arriue:
There loe, an aged man with yeares halfe blinde,
Here [...] tale of [...].
Who deemd Orlando of that crew the chiefe,
To this effect vtterd to him his griefe.
How that a certaine dame of noble blood,
Of vertue verie great, of beautie rare,
Of sober cheare and of behauiour good,
(Though now opprest with miserie and care)
Requested him, except his hast withstood,
That she to him a matter might declare,
In which to aske his wise aduice she ment,
To which Orlando quickly did consent.
The Ladies pallace stood within the land,
To which the Earle conducted was with speed,
Where at the entrie did the Ladie stand,
In mourning shew, and sorrowfull in deed,
Who brought Orlando sadly by the hand,
Into a chamber hang'd with mournfull weed,
First him by her to sit she doth beseech,
And then in ruefull sort she vs'd this speech.
First (worthy knight) I would you vnderstood,
I was the Earle of Hollands daughter deare,
Who was to me so tender and so good,
That though my brothers both were him as neare,
Yet my desire in nothing he withstood,
Nor spake the word that I was loth to heare:
Thus whiles in state most stedie I did stand,
A certaine Duke arriued in this land.
The Duke of Zeland and his arrant was,
To Bisky there against the Moores to fight,
His age and beautie that did others passe,
Moou'd me that had not tafted loues delight,
Nor arm'd against his darts with steele or brasse,
To yeeld my selfe his prisner without fight,
Beleeuing then as still I do and shall,
That he to me doth carrie loue not small.
For while the windes contrarie here him stay,
Though naught for his, yet exc'lent for my drift,
What time me seem'd each weeke was but a day,
The pleasant houres did slide away so swift,
We kept our selues togither day by day,
Till at the last we made vs so good shift,
That er we parted we had so procured,
Each was to other man and wise assured.
Byreno was from hence but newly gone,
(So is my deare beloued husbands name)
But that a great Ambassador anon:
Directly [...]om the king of Friseland came,
To treat a certaine marriage vpon
With other of that nation of good fame,
That to my Sire from Holland did repaire,
That I might marrie with his sonne and haire.
But I in whom faith tooke so deepe a roote,
I could not change my new made choise and tho
I would, to striue with loue it was no boote,
That wounded me so lately with his bow,
To stop the motions newly set on foote,
Before they might to farther matter grow:
I would not go, I flatly told my father,
That I to die a thousand deaths had rather.
My louing sire that chiefest care did take,
That all he did might me his daughter please,
Agreeing to my will, and for my sake,
My griefe so new conceiued to appease,
Straightway the motion of this marriage brake,
Which did so sore the Friseland king displease,
He made sharpe warres on Holland in short space,
By force whereof he ruind all my race.
For first he is of limbes and bodie strong,
To meete his enemies in open field,
And then so politike in doing wrong,
He makes their force vnto his fraud to yeeld:
He hath his other weapons strange among,
A weapon strange, before this seene but seeld,
A trunke of iron hollow made within,
And there he puts powder and pellet in.
[...] def­ [...]of an [...]h, being [...]ing not [...] be­ [...]mpis
All closed saue a little hole behind,
Whereat no sooner taken is the flame,
The bullet flies with such a furious wind,
As though from clouds a bolt of thunder came.
And whatsoeuer in the way it find,
It burnes, it breakes, it teares and spoiles the same.
[...] the end [...]eke in [...].
No doubt some fiend of hell or diuellish wight,
Deuised it to do mankind a spite.
And thus with this deuice and many other,
In open field our battels twise he brake,
And first in fight he slue mine elder brother,
(The bul [...]et through his curat way did make)
And next in flight he tooke and kild the tother,
Which causd my fathers aged heart to quake,
Who notwithstanding stoutly did intend,
His honor and my safetie to defend.
But in a hold that onely now was left him,
They him besieg'd that all the rest had wonne,
And by sharpe battell all the rest had rest him,
Where to a loup one leueld so a gunne,
The blow thereof of life and sense bereft him,
So swift it came as none the same may shun.
A weapon vile, wherewith a foolish boy
May worthy captaines mischiefe and annoy.
Thus was my father and my brothers slaine,
Before this furious king his warre would cease,
And I sole heire of Holland did remaine,
Which made his former fancie more increase:
He thinks by match with me my land to gaine,
And offerd to my people rest and peace,
If I Arbante marry would his sonne,
Which I before refused to haue done.
And I (as well for hatred I did beare,
Most iust to him and all his generation,
By whom my fire and brothers killed were,
By whom was spoild and robbed all our nation,
As that to breake my promise I did feare,
Which I Byreno made with protestation,
That howsoeuer fortunes wheele should turne,
Yet none should marry me till his returne)
Made answer this, that if for euery ill
I now abide I should haue thousands more,
Though they my corpes with cruell torments kill,
I would not breake my promise giuen before.
My countrimen perswade me change this will,
First praying me, then threatning me full sore,
Except I do, to yeeld me and my land
(Desired prey) into mine enemies hand.
But finding still their threats and prayers vaine,
And still that in my former mind I staid,
Me and my country by a priuie traine,
Vnto the king of Friseland they betraid;
Who thinking now with flat [...]ie me to gaine,
First bid me not to feare or be dismaid,
[...] [...]red free to giue me lands and life,
[...] would be his sonne Arbantes wife.
Then I that see my selfe inforced so,
Although I meant that death should set me free,
Yet loth as vnreuenged hence to go,
On those that had so greatly iniur'd me:
Did muse on many meanes to helpe my wo,
At last I thought dissembling best to be,
Wherefore I fained that I was relented,
And that to haue his sonne I was contented.
Among some seruants that my father had,
Two brethren strong and hardy I did chuse,
Most apt to do what euer I them bad,
And for my sake no danger to refuse,
For each of them was brought vp of a lad
Within our house, I did their seruice vse
In warre and peace, and found their faiths as great,
As were their hearts to any hardy feat.
To these two men I open made my mind,
They promist me their seruice and their aid,
One into Flanders went a barke to find,
The tother with my selfe in Holland staid:
Now was our day for marriage assingd,
When flying newes the strangers made afraid,
With many sailes Byreno was reported,
Into these parts newly to haue resorted.
For when the first conflict and broile was fought,
Wherein my brother cruelly was slaine,
I straight by letters with Byreno wrought,
To make all speed to succor vs from Spaine.
But while prouision for each thing was sought,
The Friseland king gat all that did remaine,
Byreno hearing not what late was past,
Conducts his nauie hither in great hast.
The Fris [...]land king that heard of his repaire,
D [...]th leaue the marriage for his eldest sonne,
And to the sea he goes with nauie faire,
They meet, they fight the king of Friseland wonne,
And to expell all comfort with despaire,
[...] prisner tane, I quite vndone,
Abrode Byreno captiue like was carried,
At home vnto his en'my I was married.
But when he thought in armes me to embrace,
And haue that due that wiues their husbands ow,
My seruant standing in a secret place,
Which I to him did for this purpose show,
Affoords him to his sport but little space,
And with a P [...]llax strake him such a blow,
That staggring straight, and making little strife,
He left his loue, his liuing and his life.
And thus this youth borne in vnhappie houre,
Came to his death as he deserued well,
In spite of all his sire Cym [...]seas powre,
Whose tyranme all others did excell:
Whose sword my sire and brothers did deuoure,
And from my natiue soile did me expell,
And meant to enter vpon all my lands,
While I by marridge should be in their hands.
But when we once performed had this deed,
And taken things of greatest price away,
Before that any noise or tumult breed,
Out of the window we deni'd a way:
And packing thence with all expedient speed,
We came to sea before the breake of day,
Where as my seruant waited with a barge,
As he before receiu'd of me in charge.
I know not if [...] tooke more griefe,
Or wrath or [...] kindled in his mind,
To [...] his torne that lay past all reliefe,
To find a [...] thing of value left behind,
Then when his pride and glory should be chiefe,
Then when to make a triumph he assignd,
And hoping all were at a wedding glad,
He finds them all as at a buriall sad.
His hate of me and pittie of his sonne,
Sentence Horaece [...].
Torment him night and day with endlesse greefe:
But sith by teares no good the dead is done,
And sharpe reuenge as [...]wageth malice cheese,
From dolefull teares to rage he straight doth runne,
And seeks of all his sorrow this releefe.
To get me in his hands with subtile traines,
Then me to kill with torments and with paines.
Those of my friends or seruants he could find,
Or that to me did any way retaine,
He all destroyd and left not one behind,
Some hang'd, some burn'd, and some with torment slaine,
To kill [...] once he had assignd,
O purpose onely to procure my paine,
But that he thought his life would be a net,
The sooner me into his hands to get.
Wherefore he set a hard and cruell law,
Except Byreno could in twelue months space,
Find meanes by fraud or forces me to draw,
To yeeld my selfe a prisner in his place,
(Such Princes are that haue of God no aw)
Then die he should without all hope of grace:
So that to saue his life, my death alone
Must be the meanes, for other can be none.
All that by paine or cost procure I could,
With diligence I haue already done,
Sixe castles faire in Flanders I haue sold,
The mony spent, and yet no profit wonne,
I sought to bribe those that him kept in hold,
But they my craft with greater craft did shunne:
I also mou'd our neighbours neare and farre,
English and Dutch on him to make sharpe warre.
But those I sent when they long time had staid,
I thinke they would not, or they could not speed:
They brought me many words, but little aid,
My store decreast, but greater grew my need:
And now (the thought whereof makes me afraid)
That time drawes nie, when neither force nor meed,
As soone as full expired is the yeare,
From cruell death can safe preserue my deare.
For him my father and his sonnes were slaine,
For him my state and liuing all is lost,
For him those little goods that did remaine,
I haue consum'd to my great care and cost,
For him with hearts disease and bodies paine,
With troublous waues of fortune I am tost,
Now last of all I must lay downe my life,
To saue my spouse from blow of bloudy knife.
And finding that my fortune is so bad,
I must to saue his life lay downe mine owne,
To leese mine owne I shall be faine and glad,
Where sorrow springs of seeds that loue had sowne;
This onely feare and doubt doth make me sad,
Because I know not how it may be knowne,
If I shall sure release Byrenos bands,
By yeelding me into the tyrants hands.
I feare when he hath shut me in this cage,
If all the torments I shall then endure,
His fury to Byreno may asswage,
Whose libertie I study to procure:
I rather feare least following his rage,
When he shall find he hath vs both so sure,
He will not care his oath and vow to breake,
Vpon vs both at once his wrath to wreake.
Behold the cause why I did long so sore
To speake with you, demaunding your aduice,
As I haue oft of others done before.
Yet found I none so hardy nor so wise,
That would assure his freedome to restore,
Whose loue doth me to hate my selfe intice,
The cause no doubt is this, they stand in feare
Of those his guns, whose force no steele can beare.
But if your vertue do not disagree,
With this your comely shape and manly show,
Let me request you sir to go with me,
Where I my selfe in prison shall bestow,
And promise me to set Byreno free,
If so the tyrant from his promise go.
For I shall die with great content and ioy,
If by my death Byreno scape annoy.
Her dolefull tale the damsell here did end,
[...]gne of [...]ourage [...] words
Which oft was interrupted with her teares:
Orlando louing not the time to spend
In idle talke, all answers long forbeares,
But in his mind he fully doth intend
To foile her foes and rid her of her feares,
He briefly said, that she should him commaund,
To do much more then she did him demaund.
He meanes not tho that she her selfe should yeeld
Vnto the cruell tyrant as a pledge,
Except his sword (that failed him but seeld)
Had on the sodaine lost his force and edge,
He meanes (like common birders in the field)
To catch the birds and neuer hurt the hedge,
And thus resolu'd to do this worthy deed,
From Flanders now by sea they go with speed.
The skilfull Pilot doth the vessell steare,
Sometime on th'one, sometime on th'other side,
The Iles of Zeland some before appeare,
And some behind as fast themselues do hide,
And straight to Holland they approched neare,
Orlando went to land, but bids her bide:
His meaning is that she shall vnderstand,
The tyrants death before she come on land.
Himselfe forthwith was mounted on a steed,
A darke browne bay, with white starre in his face,
Both large and strongly limbd (like Flemish breed)
But not so full of life nor swift of pace,
Yet good enough to serue him at his need,
When as his Briliador was not in place:
And thus he came to Dordreck, where he found
With men of armes the gates enuirond round.
The wayes, the wals, with arm'd men watched were,
[...]stos [...]asis
For tyrants still are most of such condition,
(And chiefly new) that ay they stand in feare,
And further now some newes had bred suspition,
How that an armie great approched neare,
Well stor'd with men, and stuffed with munition,
The which they said Byrenos cosin brought,
By force his kinsmans freedome to haue wrought.
Orlando wils a watchman carry word
Vnto their King, how that a wandring knight
Desires to proue his force with speare and sword,
Whom if the King could ouercome in fight,
Then he should haue the Ladie by accord,
That slue Arbante on his wedding night:
For he had taken her into protection,
And could deliuer her to his subiection.
But craued eke the King should bounden be,
By promise firme (if he were ouercome)
To let his prisner (cald Byreno free,
And of his message this was all the summe:
And this was told vnto the King, but he
That of true vertue neuer tasted c [...]umme,
Bent all his will and wit against all reason,
To falshood foule, to false deceit and treason.
He makes account if he this knight can stay,
The which to do he meanes great meanes to make,
That then the Ladie quickly get he may,
And make him yeeld her for his safetie sake:
He sendeth thirtie men a priuie way,
Him to inclose about and prisner take,
Who fetching compasse to auoid suspition,
At last arriued where they had commission.
In this meane time with words he foded out,
The worthy Earle, vntill he saw his men,
According as he bad them come about,
Enclosing all the way behind, and then
Out of the gates he rusheth with a rout,
Of men on horse and foot of three times ten,
As hunters do inclose the beasts in woods,
Or fishers do inclose the fish in floods.
So doth the king Cymosco care and striue,
To stop the wayes with all foresight and heed,
And meaneth sure to haue him tane aliue,
And thinks the same is such an easie deed,
That of those guns with which he did depriue
So many liues, he thinks there is no need,
For such a weapon serueth very ill,
Where he did meane to take and not to kill.
As cunning fowlers do the birds reserue,
That first they take in hope of greater pray,
And makes them for a bait and stale to serue,
To take the rest by sport and pretie play,
So meanes the king aliue him to preserue,
But vnto this Orlandos force said nay:
He meanes not to be handled in that sort,
But breakes the nets and marreth all the sport.
The noble Earle with couched speare in hand,
Doth ride where as he finds the thickest prease,
Two, three and foure, that in his way did stand,
The speare doth pierce, nor at the fift doth cease,
It past the sixt the brodenesse of a hand,
Nor that same handbredth maketh any peace,
The seuenth so great a blow therewith he strake,
That downe he fell and neuer after spake.
Eu'n as a boy that shoots abroade for sport,
And finds some frogs that in a ditch haue bred,
Doth pricke them with an arrow in such sort,
One after one vntill such store be dead,
As that for more his shaft may seeme too short,
From fethers fild already to the head,
So with his speare Orlando him besturd,
And that once left, he draweth out his sword.
That sword that neuer yet was drawne in vaine,
Against whose edge doth armour little boote,
At cu'ry thrust or blow he gaue was slaine,
A man on horse, or else a man on foote.
The edge whereof with crimson still doth staine,
And where it lights it pierceth to the roote.
The Fri [...]eland king repents him now too late,
That he for hast his guns behind forgate.
With voice alowd, and many a boistrous thret,
He bids them bring his gun, but none doth heare,
Who once within the gate his foote can get,
He dare not once peepe out againe for feare:
But when he saw none by his words did set,
And that almost they all departed were,
He thought it best to saue himselfe by flight,
From [...]o great force of this same furious knight.
He backe retires, ne drawes the bridge for hast,
Because Orlando now approcht so nie,
And had not then his horse him speeded fast,
As though he did not runne but rather flie,
Orlando would haue made him sore agast,
Who caring not to make the poore sort die,
Past by the rest and kept the King in chase,
That sau'd himselfe by his good horses pace.
But yet ere long againe he doth returne,
And brings with him his iron cane and fire,
Wherwith he doth beate down, and bruse and burne
All those whom he to mischiefe doth desire:
He hopes this weapon well shall serue his turne,
Yet for all this he meanes to come no nire,
S [...]mil [...].
But like a hunter priuily doth watch,
Where he the heedlesse beast may safest catch.
The King with this his engine ly'th in wait,
A weapon tearing trees and rending rocks,
Whose force no fence can ward with any sleight,
It giues so sound and vnexpected knocks:
Thus hauing layne at little at receit,
And watcht his vantage like a craftie foxe,
When once the Earle within his reach he spide,
He setteth fire vnto his peeces side.
Straight like a lampe of lightning out it flies,
And sendeth forth withall so great a sound,
As seemd to shake the euerlasting skies,
And to remoue the vnremoued ground,
The shot gainst which no armour can suffice,
But breaketh all that in the way is found,
Doth whiz, and sing, and kindles as it went,
Yet did not that effect the tyrant ment.
For whether twere his ouerhastie speed,
And too great will to hurt did make him swerue,
Or whether feare possest him in the deed,
That not to guide his hand his heart could serue,
Or whether God of mercie meere and meed,
Was pleasd his champion longer to preserue:
It onely strake the horse with so great paine,
That downe he [...]ell and neuer role againe.
The horse and horseman downe together fell,
Downe lay the horse, vp quickly ro [...]e the knight,
And on his feet was straight recouerd well,
More earnestly bent then before to fight,
And as the stories of Antheus tell,
In whom each fall increased more his might:
So though Orlando with his fall was troubled,
His force and fury seemed to be doubled.
But when the king of Frizland plainly saw,
How this bold knight grew fiercer then before,
He thought it best by flight himselfe withdraw,
His fainting heart with feare was pierst so sore:
A side he turnes the horses foming iaw,
Now full resolu'd to proue his force no more,
Orlando with such speed doth him pursue,
As doth an arrow from a bow of Yue.
And what he could not riding erst atchieue,
He doth the same and more vpon his feet,
And runs so swift as few men would belieue,
Except themselues had present bin to see it,
Vntill at last so hard he him did driue,
He ouertooke him in a narrow street,
And with his sword he cleft his head in twaine,
The senslesse corpes doth on the ground remaine.
Now as Orlando did this feate contriue,
There grew new broiles from thence a litle distance,
For then Byrenos cosin did arriue,
With men on horse and foot for his assistance,
And finding none that durst against him striue,
He entred had the gates without resistance,
So late a feare was in the people bred,
That none of them durst come to make a hed.
The silly Burgers knew not what to say,
Nor who these were, nor what was their desire,
Vntill the Zelanders themselues bewray,
Both by their speech and manner of attire:
Then made they peace, and promist them straight­way,
To do what ere the captaine should require,
Against the men of Fri [...]eland them to aid,
Who yet in prison still Byreno staid.
For why that people alwayes had in hate,
The king of Fri [...]eland and his men of warre,
Their Dukes late death, and altring their estate,
Had mou'd their minds, but that that all did marre,
Was ouertaxing them is such a rate,
As alwayes breeds a great dislike and iarre.
Orlando twixt these men made such conclusion,
As turnd vnto the Friseland mens confusion.
For straight to ground they threw the prison gate,
They fetch the prisners out without a kay,
Byreno to the Earle is not vngrate,
With thanks a part of his due debt to pay:
And then they go to shew Byrenos state,
To faire Olympia, that at anchor lay,
For so the call they Lady chast and faire,
That of that country was vndoubted haire.
She that was thither by Orlando brought,
Without all hope of any such successe,
Who lately (silly creature) onely sought,
Her death might bring her louer from distresse:
Now was her [...]afetie and Byrenos wrought,
When she supposd and lookt for nothing lesse:
The ioy cannot with many words be told,
Wherewith the tone the tother did behold.
The people do the damsell faire restore,
Vnto the state that vnto her was due:
But she that vowd her selfe for euermore,
To be vnto Byreno louer true,
Persisting now as faithfull as before,
Nor fearing any harme that might ensue,
Doth grant to him for loue and meere affection
Of her and her estate the full protection.
Byreno leaues his cosin in his place,
To guide that countrie with sufficient gard,
His louing wife in Zeland he will place,
That done, with forces marche to Friseland ward:
And hopes to conquer it in little space,
If that his fortune were not ouer hard,
And that which most assur'd him of this thing,
He had in hold the daughter of their king.
Whom he did meane to marrie (as men say)
Vnto a younger brother of his name:
Orlando shipt himselfe that present day,
Byreno with him to his shipping came,
And offerd him a large part of the pray,
Because his valew cheefly won the same,
Who nothing tooke but that same engin rare,
Which we before to lightning did compare.
Ne tooke he this away because he ment,
To proue the force thereof vpon his foe,
Or vse the same when he to battell went,
His courage would not suffer him do so:
To hurle away the same was his intent,
Where it mankinde might neuer damage moe:
He lets nor powder nor the shot remaine,
Nor ought that did vnto the same pertaine.
And when that now the shelues and shallow shore,
Some twentie leagues or there about was left,
No land discernd behind nor yet before,
Vpon the right hand or vpon the left,
Because (said he) hereafter neuer more,
May any knight of life and limb be rest
By thee, or coward vaunt him with the stout,
Lye there alow vntill I fetch thee out.
O curst deuice found out by seme foule fend,
And framd below by Belzebub in hell,
Who by thy meane did purpose and intend,
To ruine all that on the eart [...] do dwell,
From whence thou camst, I thither thee do s [...]nd:
(This said) the peece vnto the bottom fell:
Orlando maketh all the speed he may,
Himselfe vnto Ebuda to conuay.
I say the noble Earle in hast him hide,
Vnto that cruell Ile to finde that wight,
Whom he more lou'd then all the world beside,
On whom his thoughts were running day & night,
Nor would he by the way one whit abide,
Lest of new stay might new occasion light,
And cause him when he had his purpose mist,
To crie with late repentance, had I wist.
His course he meanes of neither side to bend,
Nor South nor North, such hast he meanes to make,
But goes as that blinde archer doth him send,
That deepe with dart of golden head him strake.
And here a while to leaue him I intend,
He returnes to Orlando in the xij. booke st. 25.
Returning to the match of which I spake:
For you may thinke I lost it in the carriage,
If you should heare no more news of the marriage.
Great feasts were made in Holland, and great sport,
Because of this new match and copulation;
But greater shall in Zeland by report,
For which there was great care and preparation:
Yet would I not you thither should resort,
Except you knew Byrenos inclination,
For chaunces fell that spoiled all the cheare,
As in the booke ensuing you shall heare.

In Orlando that at the first motion entertained the enterprise of Ebuda, we may learne to be prone and readie to a [...] honorable exploites: In his comming to succor the distressed Olympia, we may note how God sends vnexpected reliefe to the honest afflicted: In Olympia we may see a rare mirror of constancy, which I doubt too few of her sex will imitate. By Cymoscos tyrannie and death, all Princes may take a warning, that no engins nor stratagems can keepe a tyrant safe in his estate, but onely clemency and bountie, that to lawfull Princes breedes euermore loue and loyalty in the subiect.

Concerning the inuention of gunnes, he seemeth to insinuate that they haue bene inuented long before the time that our writers speake of in Germany, which was about Richard the second his time: Virgil hath a verse iu the sixt of the Aeneados, that sounds much to this effect, and my selfe haue wondered at it many times, to see how plainely it expres­seth the qualitie of a peece of Ordenance. He telles that one Sallomoneus a Gyant had an engin of warre with which he imitated Iupiters thunder & lightning & surely this he would not haue fained, but that he heard of some such thing: the verse is this. Dum flammas Iouis & sonitus imitatur Olympi. Some of our far trauelled men tell vs that they of Chyna h [...]d vse of peeces some thousands of yeares, which I could be willing to credit, saue that they also tell of the records there si [...]ce before Adams creation many yeares.

Allegorie I finde none but of the Ile of Ebuda where women be giuen to monsters to be deuoured, of which I will speake in another of the Cantoes that followes of that matter.

In the monstrous effectes of gunnepowder he alludes perhap to that huge damage done at Venice where their Arsenal or storehouse was blowne vp: as a like mishap though not so terrible, happened in the Tower my grandfather Sir Iohn Markham being then Lieuteuant of the Tower.



Wicked Byreno fals in loue of new,
And in an Ile his kind Olympia leaues:
Rogero bids Alcynas realme adew,
But Logestilla gently him receues:
She shewes him how to rule the horse that flew:
He flying in the aire, from thence perceaues
Renaldos musters: after which he found
Angelica vnto the rocke fast bound.
AMong the mirrors rare of loyall loue,
That present are, or haue bin in time past,
Whose faith no force of fortune could remoue
With fauning cheare, nor yet with frowning blast:
Olympia faire all others far aboue,
By iust desert requireth to be plast:
Whose stedfast loue (to say I dare be bold)
Doth passe the patterns of the new or old.
How could she signes more euident impart,
Vnto Byreno of her louing mind?
No, though she should haue open laid he hart,
Yet could she not haue prou'd her selfe more kind:
And if such loue and dutie, by desart
May looke of due like loue againe to find,
Her faith requires vnto Byreno showne,
That he should seeke her safetie as his owne.
Nor onely not to leaue her in annoy,
Or her reiect for any other dame,
No not for her that bred the bale of Troy,
Or any other of more worthy name,
But her preferre before all worldly ioy,
Before his senses fiue, before his fame,
Or any other thing of greater price,
To be exprest by word or by deuice.
Now if Byreno did her well requite,
If that he shewd to her the like good will,
If he regarded as he ought of right,
To bend vnto her liking all his skill,
Nay if forgetting all her merits quite,
Vngrate, vnkind, he sought her life to spill:
Behold I shall a tale to you recite,
Would make a man his lip for anger bite.
And when that I shall haue declared plaine
His crueltie, her loues vnkind reward,
I thinke you Ladies neuer will againe
Beleeue mens words, your hearts will wax so hard;
Catull. Nil ma­tuunt iurare ni­hil promittere parcunt. Ouid: Iupiter ex alto periuria re­det amantum. Tibullus-Veneris perturia vents irrita per terras & freta summa ferunt. Callimachus: Iu­rauit quidem, sed amatoria iura­menta deorū non subeunt aures.
louers loued Ladies loues to gaine,
Do promise, vow and sweare without regard,
That God doth see and know their falshood still,
And can and shall reuenge it at his will.
Their othes but words, their words are all but wind,
Vtterd in hast, and with like hast forgotten,
With which their faiths they do as firmely bind,
As bundels are trust vp with cords all rotten:
Coynesse is naught, but worse to be too kind,
Men care not for the good that soone is gotten:
But women of their wits may iustly bost,
That are made wiser by an others cost.
Sentence: Foelix quem sacrunt aliena pericula cautum. Ouid: Flamma (que) de stipula nostra breuis (que) fuit. Ouid: Venator sequitur fugien­tia capta relin­quit.
Wherefore I wish you louely dames beware,
These beardlesse youths, whose faces shine so neate,
Whose fancies soone like strawne fire kindled are,
And sooner quencht amid their flaming heate:
The hunter chaseth still the flying hare,
By hill by dale with labour and with sweate,
But when at last the wished prey is taken,
They seeke new game, the old is quite forsaken.
Euen so these youths, the while you say them nay,
In humble sort they seeke, they serue,
They like, they loue, they honor and obay,
They wait, they watch your fauours to deserue:
Ouid: [...]
A part they plaine, in presence oft they pray,
For lo [...]e of you they mourne, they pine and starue:
But hauing got that erst they sought so sore,
They turne their sailes vnto another shore.
Though this be true, I not perswade you tho,
To leaue to loue, for that were open wrong,
To cause you like a vine vndrest to grow,
Vncared for the brites and thornes among:
But least on youths you should your selues bestow,
That neuer in one fancie tarry long;
The meane is best, young fruites the stomacke gripe,
The elder cloy when they be ouer ripe.
I shewd you in the tale I told you last,
How that Byreno had Cymoscos daughter,
To marry whom a motion late was past,
Because his brother lou'd and greatly sought her,
But his owne mouth was of too lickrish tast,
To leaue so sweet a morsell, hauing caught her:
He thought it were a point of foolish kindnesse,
To part withall, a peece of so rare finenesse.
The damsell l [...]ttle passed fourteene yeare,
Most tender, sweet and louely, fresh and faire,
As when the budding rose doth first appeare,
When sunny beames in May make temprate aire,
[...] likes her face, her sober cheare,
And vsd to her to make to oft repaire,
That eu'n a [...] Brimstone quickly taketh flame,
So [...] tooke him to his perpetuall shame.
The streame of teares that for her sire she shed,
A flaming fornace bred within his brest,
The [...] she made, and dolefull words she sed,
Doth breed his hope of getting his request,
Thus soule desires with hopes as foule are fed,
As water hote from boiling straight doth rest,
When liquor cold is powred in the pot,
So with new loue his old was quite forgot.
From flow to ebbe thus turned was the tide,
His late belou'd Olympia lothsome grew,
To looke on her his heart could scant abide,
His thoughts were all so setled on the new,
Yet till the time might serue he thinks to hide,
His filthy hate with faire and painted hew,
And though in fancie he did her detest,
Yet still great kindnesse he in shew profest.
Ouid: Hit amor [...]. Of [...]
And if he shewd the other signes of loue,
(Although such loue was worse then any hate)
Yet none there was herein did him reproue,
But tooke his meaning in another rate,
They though some good remorce his mind did moue,
In gracious sort to pitie her estate,
And that to her he charitably ment,
Because she was so yong and innocent.
O mightie God, how much are men mistane?
Ouid [...] Met [...] Que [...] [...] ca [...] ipso sce [...] mens To [...] ditur [...]
How oft with fained shewes they are deceaued?
Byrenos wicked meaning and prophane,
For good and godly was of men receaued:
The marriners their oares in hand had tane,
And from the shore the ship was quickly heaued,
To Zeland ward the Duke with all his traine,
With helpe of oares and sailes doth passe amaine.
Now had they lost the sight of Holland shore,
And marcht with gentle gale in comely ranke,
And (for the wind was westerly) they bore
To come within the lue of Scottish banke,
When as a sodain tempest rose so sore,
The force thereof their ships had well nie sanke,
Three dayes they bare it out, the fourth at night
A barren Iland hapned in their sight.
Here faire Olympia from her ship to sand,
From sands he passeth to the higher ground,
Byreno kindly led her by the hand,
(Although his heart another harbour sound)
They sup in their pauillion pitcht on land,
Enuirond with a tent about them round:
The supper done, to bed do go they twaine,
The rest vnto their ships returne againe.
The trauell great she lately did endure,
And had three dayes before her waking kept,
And being now vpon the shore secure,
(Now glad of that for which er long she wept)
And taking her amid his armes secure,
All this did cause that she the sounder slept,
(Ah silly soule) when she was least afraid,
Of her falle husband thus to be betraid.
The trecherous Byreno, whom deceit
And though of leud intent doth waking keepe,
Now hauing time for which he long did wait,
Supposing faire Olympia sound [...]leepe,
Vnto his ships he hies with short retrait,
And makes them all lanch forth into the deepe;
And thus with wicked practise and vniust,
He her forsooke that chiefly him did trust.
Now were the sailes well charged with the wind,
And beare him lighter then the wind away,
The poore Olympia now was left behind,
Who neuer waked till that breake of day,
To lightsomnesse had changd the darknesse blind,
And sunnie beames had driu'n the mist away,
She stretcht her armes betweene a sleep and wake,
And thinks Byreno in her armes to take.
She findeth none, and drawing backe againe,
Againe she reacht them out, but findeth none,
Her leg likewise she reached out in vaine,
In vaine for he for whom she feeles is gone,
Feare sleepe expels, her eies she opens plaine,
Nor yet she heares, she sees, nor feeles not one,
With which amazd, the clothes away she cast,
And to the shore she runneth in great hast.
With heart dismaid, and seeing her before
Her fatall hap, vnto the sea she hies,
She smote her brest, her haire she rent and tore,
Now looking (for all lightsome were the skies)
If ought she could discerne, but euen the shore;
But euen the shore, no other thing she spies:
Then once or twise she cald Byrenos name,
Then once or twise the caues resound the same.
And boldly then she mounted on the rocks,
All rough and steepe, such courage sorrow brought,
Her woful words might moue the stones and stocks,
But when she saw, or at the least she thought,
She saw the ships, her guiltlesse brest she knocks,
By signes and cries to bring them backe she sought,
But signes and cries but little now auailes,
That wind bare them away that fild their sailes.
What meanest thou (thus poore Olympia spake)
So cruelly without me to depart?
Bend back thy course, and cease such speed to make,
Thy vessell of her lading lackes a part:
It little is the carkas poore to take,
Since that it doth already beare the hart:
Thus hauing by the shore cride long in vaine,
Vnto the tent she backe returnes againe.
And lying groueling on her restlesse bed,
Moistning the same with water of her eies,
Sith two on thee did couch last night (she sed)
Why did not two from thee together rise?
Accurst the wombe that false Byreno bred,
Accurst the day that first I saw the skies:
What shall I do? what can I here alone,
Or who (wo me) can mitigate my mone?
I see no man, nor any signe I see,
That any man within this Ile doth dwell:
I see no ship that hence may carry me,
With (at the least) some hope of being well:
I here shall starue, it cannot other be,
And buried how to be I cannot tell;
Ah how if wolues that wander in this wood,
Deuoure my flesh, or drinke my guiltlesse blood?
Alas I doubt, and stand eu'n now in feare,
Lest that some rau'nous wolfe that here abides,
Some Lion, Tyger, or some vgly Beare,
With teeth and clawes shall pierce my tender sides,
Yet what beast could with greater torment teare,
Then thou more fierce then any beast besides?
For they contented are but once to kill,
But thou my life a thousand times dost spill.
But presuppose some vessell here arriue,
And take me from this place for pittie sake,
And so perchance I may be left aliue,
The Beares nor Lions neuer shall me take,
Yet will it be in vaine for me to striue,
Againe to Holland my repaire to make:
Thou keepst by force the place where I was borne,
Whence by deceit thou broughts me (false forsworn)
Thou tookst from me my liuing, by pretence
And colour of thy friendship and alliance,
Thy men of armes were paid by my expence,
I gaue thee all, such was my fond affiance.
Or shall I turne to Flanders? sith from thence
I sold my selfe, and am at flat defiance
With all the nation, whom to set thee free,
I quite forsooke, that now ah wo is me?
Is there for me in Friseland any place?
Where I refusd for thee to be a Queene,
The which refusall ruind all my race,
As by the sequell was too plainly seene?
O cruell hap, ò strange and monstrous case,
The righteous God iudge thee and me betweene,
Was euer Tyger carried heart so hard,
For so firme loue to pay so foule reward?
But what and if some pyrat wanting feare
Of God and man, shall take me as a slaue?
Thou God forbid, let Tyger, Wolfe and Beare,
First carry me a prey into their caue,
And there my flesh in peeces all to teare,
That dying, I my chastitie may saue.
This said, her raging griefe her hands addresses,
To offer force vnto her golden tresses.
And euen as Hecuba fell raging mad,
Simile [...]
With griefe of mind and sorrow sore oppressed,
To see her Polydorus little lad,
By kinsmans fraud and crueltie distressed:
So rau'd Olympia faire, as though she had
With twentie thousand diuels bene possessed:
At last she sitteth on the rocks alone,
And seemes as senslesse as the senslesse stone.
He followes this of Olympia wher Orlando found her naked in E­buda, booke xi, staffe 43. Rogero.
And in this state I meane to let her stay,
Till of Rogero I haue talkt a while,
Who traueld in the hot and sandy way,
Full many weary and vnpleasant mile:
And now it was the middle of the day,
When as vpon the South side of the Ile,
He saw three Ladies neare a little towre,
Did sport themselues within a pleasant bowre.
These Ladies faire were of Alcynas crew,
And there refresht themselues a little space,
They had great store of wines both old and new,
And sundry kind of iunkets in like case:
A pretie barke there lay within their vew,
That did attend their pleasures in the place,
And wait when any little gale should blow,
(For now was none) that they might homeward go.
Then one of these that had espide the knight,
At such a time, and in such way to ride,
With courteous speech inuites him to alight:
The second brings him wine on th'other side,
And makes him farre more thirstie with the sight,
But these enticements could not cause him bid [...],
He feares Alcyna prisner so might take him,
If by this stay she hapt to ouertake him,
Euen as salt peeter mixt with brimstone pure,
[...] straight when once it feeles the fire,
Or as the sea with winds and aire obscure,
Doth we [...] and swell, and euer riseth hier;
So they that law their words could not allure,
H [...] noble mind to follow their desier,
Tooke high disdaine that they were so contemned,
And him of great discourtesie condemned.
And straight the third as in a raging mood
Said thus, O creature void of all gentilitie,
And borne (no doubt) of base vnworthy blood,
And bred where neuer vsed was ciuilitie,
Ay during life fro thee depart all good,
Nor ma [...]st thou die in quiet and tranquilitie,
But burned ma [...]st thou be, or cut in quarters,
Or driuen to hang thy selfe in thine owne garters.
With these and many bitter speeches mo,
They raile on him, and then they take their barke,
And c [...]ast along vpon the Southerne shore,
That they his passage and his course might marke.
But he that now was gotten farre before,
Did little to their threats or curses harke:
And notwithstanding all that they contriued,
Yet to his ship in safetie he arriued.
The Pilot doth Rogero much commend,
That from Alcyna so himselfe did saue,
And as a wise and well experienc'd frend,
Sound counsell and good precepts him he gaue,
And wisht that he his time would better spend,
And leaue fond toyes, embracing wise dome graue,
And from the good the euill to discerne,
As I [...] vsed men to learne.
There is the food that fils and neuer cloyeth,
There is the loue, the beautie and the grace,
That maketh him most blest that them enioyeth,
To which compar'd, all ether ioyes are base:
There hope, nor feare, nor care the mind annoyeth,
Respect of persons, nor regard of place:
The mind still finding perfit contentation,
That rests it selfe in vertuous contemplation.
There are (said he) some better lessons taught,
Then dancings, dallyings or daintie diet,
There shal you learne to frame your mind & thought
From will to wit, to temperance from riet:
There is the path by which you may be brought
Into the perfect paradise of quiet.
This tale the Pilot to Rogero told.
And all the while their course they forward hold.
But [...] they see a nauie vnder saile,
Of ships that toward them in hast did bend,
[...] wrathfull striuing tooth and naile.
Doth thinke to fetch againe her fleeting frend:
But all her diligence could not auaile,
[...] to returne doth not intend,
And of her forces he was not afraid,
Because that I [...] sent him aid.
For straight a watchman standing in a towre,
So high that all the hils and shore was vnder,
Did ring the larum bell that present houre,
He saw her fleet, though distant farre asunder:
And when that now approched was their powre,
With cannon shot they made them such a thunder,
That though Alcyna threatned much and braued,
Yet was Rogero from her malice saued.
Then at his first arriuall to the shore,
Foure damsels met him sent by Logestilla,
Andronica that wisely sees before,
And Fronesis the iust, and chast Drusilla,
And she that boldly fights for vertues lore,
Descending from the Romane race Camilla:
And straight rusht out of men a worthy band,
Ay prest to meet their foes on sea and land.
Within a large and very quiet bay,
A nauie was of vessels big and tall,
That readie at an howers warning lay,
To go to fight at any little call:
And now there was begun a great affray,
By land and sea the conflict was not small,
Which did the realme in hurly burly set,
Alcyna late did from her sister get.
Tis strange to see of wars the strange successe,
She that of late was counted of such might,
Is now so driu'n in danger and distresse,
That scant she could preserue her selfe by flight,
Rogeros parting brought her griefe no lesse,
Then did the foile, which both bred such despite,
And such despaire, to die she had intended,
(If so she might) to haue her torments ended.
And as her selfe the dame of Carthage kild,
When as the Troyan Duke did her forsake:
Or as her blood the Queene of Aegypt spild,
For that so famous Romaine captaines sake:
Euen to Alcyna with like sorrowes fild,
Wisht of her selfe with like death end to make,
But (either auncient folke beleeu'd a lie,
Or this is true) a fairy cannot die.
But leaue we now Alcyna in this paine,
Flere [...] Alcyna
That from her elder sister fled apace,
And to Rogero let vs turne againe,
That was conducted to a beeter place,
Where finding now that he did safe remaine,
He thanked God that gaue him so much grace,
To see his foes of forces all depriued,
Himselfe within the castle safe arriued.
And such a castle that in starely show
And costly substance others all surmounted,
The value of the wals can no man know,
Except he first vpon the same had mounted:
Men haue not iewels of such price below,
The [...] gestilles [...]
For Di'monds are to these but drosse accounted,
And Pearles but pelse, and Rubies all are rotten,
Where stones of such rare vertue can be gotten.
These wals are built of stones of so great price,
All other vnto these come farre behind:
In these men see the vertue and the vice,
That cleaueth to the inward soule and mind.
[...]Palsus [...]at, & [...]famia [...]uem? [...]sum [...]cem.
Who looks in such a glasse, may grow so wise,
As neither flattring praises shall him blind
With tickling words, nor vndeserued blame,
With forged faults shall worke him any shame.
From hence doth come the euerlasting light,
That may with Phoebus beames so cleare compare,
That when the Sunne is downe there is no night,
With those that of these iewels stored are:
These gems do teach vs to discerne aright,
These gems are wrought with workmanship so rare,
[...]teriam [...] opus.
That hard it were to make true estimation,
Which is more worth the substance or the fashion.
On arches raisd of porphiry passing hie,
So hie that to ascend them seemd a paine,
Were gardens faire and pleasant to the eie,
Few found so faire below vpon a plaine:
Sweet smelling trees in order standing by,
With fountaines watring them in steed of raine,
Which do the same so naturally nourish,
As all the yeare both flowres and frutes do flourish.
No weeds or fruitlesse trees are in this place,
But herbs whose vertues are of highest price,
As soueraigne sage, and thrift, and herbe of grace,
And time, which well bestowed maketh wise,
And lowly patience, proud thoughts to abase,
And hearts ease, that can neuer grow with vice.
These are the herbs that in this garden grew,
Whose vertues do their beauties still renew.
The Ladie of the castle greatly ioyed,
To see the safe arriuall of this knight,
And all her care and trauell she employed,
That honor might be done him in her sight.
Altolfo (in his passage lesle annoyed,
Doth take in his acquaintance great delight,
And all the other his good fauour sought,
That by Melyssa to themselues were brought.
Now hauing all themselues some dayes reposed
In Logestillas house, and taken rest,
And finding all themselues right well disposed,
To make returne againe into the West,
The good Melyssa for them all proposed,
Vnto the mightie Ladie this request,
That by her leaue without incurring blame,
They might returne them all frō whence they came.
To whom dame Logestilla thus replide,
That after they a day or two had staid,
She would for them most carefully prouide,
For all their iourney furniture and aid:
And first she taught Rogero how to ride
The flying horse (of whom he was afraid)
To make him pace or passe a full careere,
As readily as other horses here.
When all was ready now for him to part,
Rogero bids this worthy dame farewell,
Whom all his life time after from his hart
He highly honored and loued well.
First I will shew how well he playd his part,
Then of the English Duke I meane to tell,
How in more time and with far greater paine,
He did returne to Charles his court againe.
Rogero mounted on the winged steed,
Which he had learnd obedient now to make,
Doth deeme it were a braue and noble deed,
About the world his voyage home to take.
Forthwith beginneth Eastward to proceed,
And though the thing were much to vndertake,
Yet hope of praise makes men no trauell shunne,
To say another day, we this haue done.
And leauing first the Indian riuer Tana,
He guides his iourney to the great Catay,
From thence he passeth vnto Mangiana,
And came within the fight of huge Quinsay;
Vpon the right hand leauing Sericana,
And turning from the Scythians away,
Where Asia from Europa first doth draw,
Pomeria, Russia, Prutina he saw.
His horse that hath the vse of wings and feet,
Did helpe with greater haste home to retire,
And tho with speed to turne he thought it meet,
Because his Bradamant did so desire,
Yet hauing now of trauell felt the sweet,
(Most sweet to those to knowledge that aspire)
When Germany and Hungry he had past,
He meanes to visit
Artosto cals v [...] ultima Ingleter­ra the vttermost countriy. So in time past he old *Romances wrote. Et penitus toto diuisos orl [...] Bri­gannos.
England at the last.
Where in a medow on a morning faire,
Fast by the Tems at London he did light,
Delighted with the water and the aire,
And that faire citie standing in his sight,
When straight he saw that souldiers did repaire,
To muster there, and asking of a knight,
That in the medow he had met by chance,
He vnderstood that they were bound for France.
These be the succors (thus the knight him told)
Renaldo sude for at his comming hither,
With Irish men and Scots of courage bold,
To ioyne in hearts and hands and purse together.
The musters tane and each mans name enrold,
Their onely stay is but for wind and wether,
But as they passe I meane to you to shew them,
Their names and armes, that you may better know them.
You see the standerd that so great doth show,
Ariosto doth but roue at th [...]se no­ble mens names, and if any of vs should write of the noble men of that time, we should do the like.
That ioynes the Leopard and the Flouredeluce,
That chiefest is, the rest do come below,
And reu'rence this according to our vse:
Duke Leonell Lord generall doth it ow,
A famous man in time of warre and truce,
And nephew deare vnto the King my master,
Who gaue to him the Duke dorne of Lancaster.
This banner that stands next vnto the kings,
With glittring shew that shakes the rest among,
And beares in azure field three argent wings,
To [...] Earle of Warwicke doth belong.
This man the Duke of Glosters banner brings,
[...] head, except my guesse be wrong,
The sierbrand the Duke of Clarence is,
Thence the Duke of Yorke doth claime for his.
The launce into three sundry peeces rent,
Belongs vnto the worthy Duke of Norfolke:
The lightning longs vnto the Earle of Kent,
The [...]phin longs vnto the Earle of Pembroke:
The ballance eu'n by which iust doome is ment,
Belongs vnto the noble Duke of Suffolke.
The Dragon to the valiant Earle of Cumberland,
The garland is the braue Earls of Northumberland.
The Earle of Arundell a ship halfe drownd,
The Marquesse Barkly giues an argent hill:
The gallant Earle of Essex hath the hound,
The bay tree Darby that doth flourish still:
The wheele hath Dorset euer running round,
The Earle of March his banner all doth fill
With Ca [...]dar trees: the Duke of Somerset
A broken chaire doth in his ensigne set.
The Faulcon houering vpon her nest,
The Earle of Deu'nshire doth in banner beare,
And brings a sturdy crew from out the West.
The Earle of Oxenford doth giue the Beare:
The banner all with blacke and yellow drest,
Belongs vnto the Earle of Winchester.
He that the cristall crosse in banner hath,
Is sent from the rich Bishop of the Bath.
The archers on horse, with other armed men,
Are two and fortie thousand more or lesse,
The other [...]ootmens number doubles them,
Or wants thereof but little as I guesse:
The banners shew their captains noble stem,
A crosse a wreath, an azure bat, a fesse,
[...] and [...], Edward bold and Harry,
Vnder their guide the footmen all do carry.
The Duke of Buckingham that first appeares,
The next to him the Earle of Salibury:
Burga [...] next a man well stricke in yeares,
And Edward next the Earle of Shrewsbury.
Now [...] about, and to the Scottish peares,
Braue men, and well appointed you shall see,
Where [...] sonne vnto the Scottish king,
Vnto the field doth thirtie thousand bring.
All chosen men from many a shire and towne,
All ready to resist, assaile, inuade,
Their standerd is the beast of most renowne,
That in his paw doth hold a glittring blade,
This is the heire apparant to the crowne,
This is the goodly impe whom nature made,
To shew her chiefest workmanship and skill,
And a [...]ter brake the mould against her will.
The Earle of Otton commeth after him,
That in his banner beares the golden barre:
The spotted Leopard that looks so grim,
That is the ensigne of the Duke of Marre.
Not far from him there commeth Alcubrin,
A man of mightie strength and fierce in warre,
No Duke, nor Earle, nor Marquesse as men say,
But of the sauages he beares the sway.
The Duke of Trafford beares in ensigne bright,
The bird whose yong ones stare in Phoebus face:
An [...]
Lurcanio Lord of Angus, valiant knight,
Doth giue a Bull, whom two dogs hold in chase;
The Duke of Albanie giue blue and white,
(Since he obtained faire Geneuras grace)
Earle Bohune in his stately banner beares
A Vulture that with clawes a Dragon teares.
Their horsemen are with iacks for most part clad,
Their horses are both swift of course and strong,
They run on horseback with a slender gad,
And like aspeare, but that it is more long:
Their people are of warre then peace more glad,
More apt to offer then to suffer wrong:
These are the succors out of Scotland sent,
That with the noble Prince Zerbino went.
Then come the Irish men of valiant harts,
And actiue limbs, in personages tall,
They naked vse to go in many parts,
But with a mantle yet they couer all:
Short swords they vse to carry and long darts,
To fight both neare and farre aloofe withall,
And of these bands the Lords and leaders are,
The noble Earles of Ormond and Kildare.
Some sixteene thousand men or thereabout,
Out of the Irish Ile at this time went,
Beside the other Ilands thereabout,
Sweueland and Island other succors sent;
To good king Charles, for why they stood in doubt,
If he were conquerd they should all repent,
And still their numbers daily did increase,
Of those that better like of warre then peace.
Now while Rogero learnes the armes and name
Of euery Brittish Lord, behold a rout
Of citizens and folke of all sorts came,
Some with delight, and some with dread and doubt,
To see a beast so strange, so strong, so tame,
And wondring much, they compast him about:
They thought it was a strange and monstrous thing,
To see a horse that had a Grissons wing.
Wherefore to make the people maruell more,
And as it were to sport himselfe and play,
He spurd his beast, who straight aloft did soare,
And bare his master Westward quite away:
And straight he was beyond our English shore,
And meanes to passe the Irish seas that day,
Saint George his channell in a little while,
He past, and after saw the Irish Ile.
Where men do tell strange tales, that long ago
Saint Patricke built a solitary caue,
Into the which they that deuoutly go,
By purging of their sinnes their soules may saue:
Now whether this report be true or no,
I not affirme, and yet I not depraue.
But crossing from hence to Island ward he found
Angelica vnto the rocke fast bound.
Both nakt and bound at this same Ile of wo,
For Ile of wo it may be iustly called,
Where peerlesse peeces are abused so,
By monster vile to be deuourd and thralled,
Where pyrats still by land and sea do go,
Assaulting forts that are but weakly walled:
And whom they take by flattry or by force,
They giue a monster quite without remorce.
I did declare not many books before,
If you the same in memory do keepe,
How certaine pyrats tooke her at a shore,
Where that chast hermit lay by her asleepe,
And how at last for want of other store,
Although their hearts did melt, and eyes did weepe,
Mou'd with a helplesse and a vaine compassion,
Perforce they bound her on this wofull fashion.
And thus the caitiues left her all forlorne,
With nothing but the rocks and seas in sight,
As naked as of nature she was borne,
And void of succor, and all comfort quite,
No vaile of lawne as then by her was worne,
To shade the damask rose and lillies white,
Whose colours were so mixt in euery member,
Like fragrant both in Iuly and December.
Rogero at the first had surely thought,
She was some image made of alla blaster,
Or of white marble curiously wrought,
To shew the skilfull hand of some great master.
But vewing nearer he was quickly taught,
She had some parts that were not made of plaster:
Both that her eyes did shed such wofull teares,
And that the wind did waue her golden heares.
To see her bound, to heare her mourne and plaine,
Not onely made that he his iourney staid,
But causd that he from teares could scant abstaine,
Both loue and pitie so his heart assaid,
[...] O so­ [...]atenia [...]inter [...]angū.
At last with words to mitigate her paine,
Thus much to her in louing sort he said,
O Ladie worthy onely of those bands,
Wherewith loue binds the hearts and not the hands.
And farre vnsit for these or any such,
What wight was found so cruell and vnkind,
To banish all humanitie so much,
Those polisht iuory hands in chaines to bind,
About that corps whom none can worthely tuch
With hurtfull hands, vnworthy bands to wind?
This said, she blusht, seeing those parts were spide,
The which (though faire) yet nature striues to hide.
Faine would she with her hand haue hid her eyes,
But that her hands were bound vnto the stone,
Which made her oft to breake to wofull cries,
(Sole remedy where remedy is none)
At last with sobbing voice she doth deuise
To tell the knight the cause of all her mone:
But from the sea a sodaine noise was heard,
That this her speech and all the matter mard.
Behold there now appeard the monster great,
Halfe vnderneath and halfe aboue the waue,
As when a ship with wind and weather beat,
Doth hasten to the hau'n it selfe to saue:
So doth the monster hast, in hope to eate
The daintie morsell he was wont to haue:
Which sight so sore the damsell did appall,
Rogero could not comfort her at all.
Yet with his speare in hand, though not in rest,
The vgly Orke vpon the brow he strake,
(I call him Orke, because I know no beast,
Nor fish from whence comparison to take)
His head and teeth were like a bore, the rest
A masle, of which I know not what to make,
He gaue him on the brow a mightie knocke,
But pierst no more then if it were a rocke.
And finding that his blow so small hurt brings,
He turnes againe on fresh him to aslay,
The Orke that saw the shadow of great wings,
Vpon the water vp and downe to play,
With fury great and rage away he flings,
And on the shore doth leaue the certaine pray,
The shadow vaine he vp and downe doth chase,
The while Rogero layth him on a pace.
Euen as an Eagle that espies from hi [...],
Among the herbs a partie colourd snake,
Or on a bank sunning her selfe to lie,
To cast the elder skin, a new to make,
Lies houering warily till she may spie
A vantage sure the venomd worme to take,
Then takes him by the backe, and beates her wings,
Mauger the poison or his forked stings.
So doth Rogero both with sword and speare,
The cruell monster warily assaile,
Not where he fenced is with grizly heare,
So hard as that no weapon could preuaile,
But sometime pricks him neare vnto his eare,
Sometime his sides, sometimes his vgly taile;
But nature had with such strong fences armd him,
As all his blowes but small or nothing harmd him.
So haue I seene ere this a silly flie,
With mastiue dog in sommers heate to play,
Sometime to sting him in his nose or eie,
Sometime about his grizly iawes to stay,
And buzzing round about his eares to flie,
He snaps in vaine, for still she whips away,
And oft so long she dallies on this sort,
Till one snap comes and marreth all her sport.
But now Regero doth this sleight deuise,
Sith that by force he cannot make him yeeld,
He meanes to dazle both the monsters eies,
By hidden force of his enchanted sheeld,
And being thus resolu'd, to land he flies,
And from all harme the Ladie faire to sheeld,
He puts the precious ring vpon her hand,
Whose vertue was enchantments to withstand.
That ring that worthy Bradamant him sent,
When she from false Brunello had it tane,
With which Melyssa into India went,
And wrought his freedome, and Al [...]ynas bane,
That ring he lends the damsel, with intent
To saue her eyes by vertue of the same,
Then takes he forth the shield, whose light so dazed
The lookers o [...], they fall downe all amazed.
The monster now approching to the shore,
Amazd at this, resistance none did make,
Regero hewes vpon him more and more,
But his hard scales no harme thereby did take.
Oh sir (said she) vnloosen me before
Out of this maze the monster do awake,
And let your sword slay me this present houre,
So as this monster may not me deuoure.
These wofull words mou'd so Rogeros mind,
That straight he did vnloose the Lady faire,
And causd her by and by to get behind
Vpon his horse, then mounting in the aire,
He leaues his Spanish iourney first assignd,
And vnto little Brittain doth repaire,
But by the way be sure he did not misse,
To giue her many a sweet and friendly kisse,
And hauing found a solitary place,
A pleasant groue well waterd with a spring,
Which neuer herd nor herdman did deface,
Where Philomela vsed still to sing,
Here he alights, minding to stay a space,
And hither he the Lady faire did bring,
But sure it seemd he made his full account,
Ere long vpon a better beast to mount.
His armour made him yet a while to bid [...],
Which forced stay a more desire did breed,
But now in him it was most truly tride,
Oft times the greater hast, the worse the speed,
He knits with hast two knots, while one vntide.
But soft tis best no furder to proceed,
I now cut off abruptly here my rime,
And keepe my tale vnto another time.

In Byreno that abandoned his kind Olympia in a desolate Iland,Morall. and fell in loue with another, we may note an ex­ample of ingratitude, the monsirous fault of all faults, and most odious before God and man: and herein learne to abhor and detest this vice in him and in all others, that hauing received preferment or aduancement, either by men or women, when they haue done, shake them off like horses that be lame, or garments that be old, preferring one to the mill, the other to the dunghill: or as our Stukley said, make as much of his wife as he could, and if any could make more of her, they might take her, after he had gotten many thousand pounds by making much of her. In the spiteful words that one of Alcynas wo­men spake of Rogero, we may obserue the maner of want on worldlings, that if they see a young man live temperatly, or go plainly, or speake deuoutly, straight they say he is a base fellow, and one that knowes not what belongs to a Gentleman: which foolish maner of phrase, by Rogeros example we must learne to contemne, and know that such men are indeed base as thinke temperance, and sobrietie, and deuotion base qualities. Finally in Rogeros trauell about the world, we may see how commendable it is for a yong gentleman to trauel abrode into forrain nations, but yet we may note withall an incon­uenience that comes many times with it, to see some Angelicas naked, that will tempt men of very stanch gouernment and staid yeares to that which they shall after repent, as Rogero did this his wantonnesse, as appears more plainly in the next booke, where you shall find he lost both his horse and the ring by the vngratefulnesse of Angelica.

For the matter historicall of this tenth booke,Historie. there is litle to be said, and nothing to be affirmed: for the succors sent to France from England, Scotland, Ireland, and many places thereabouts, though I cannot affirme precisely of the time, yet sure it is that many have bin sent hence against the Turk to France and elsewhere. And whereas he speakes of S. Patrick the Irish Saint, I would haue them that would know the story of him to look in Surius de vitis Sanctorum, and there they may see it at large: for mine owne part, at my being in Ireland, where I taried a few moneths, I was inquisitiue of their opinion of this Saint, and I could learne nothing, other then a reuerent conceit that they had of him, as becomes all Chri­stians to haue of deuout men, and chiefly of those by whom they are first instructed in the Christian faith: but for his pur­gatory, I found neither any that affirmed it or beleeued it.

Logestillas castle,Allegorie. the ornaments thereof, the herbs of the garden, all these figure the true magnificence, glory, comfort, and vtilitie of vertue. The foure Ladies sent to rescue Rogero, are the foure Cardinall vertues, which being well vnited together, are able to ouerthrow whole nauies of vicious pleasures. And so whatsoeuer else is spoken of Logestilla in Alle­gory is taken for vertue.

In Angelica tied to the rock,Al [...]sio [...]. and deliuered by Rogero, he alludes manifestly to the tale in Ouid of Andromade and Perseus, who with his shield turned the beholders into stones.



Angelica doth hide her selfe away,
By vertue of the ring Rogero lent her:
Rogero sees a gyant beare away,
His spouse halfe dead, and greatly doth lament her:
Orlando at the Ile of woe doth stay,
Where many women meete but hard aduenter:
Here be the monster kild, Olympia freed,
To marrie whom Oberto soone agreed.
THe galiant courser in his full carrire.
Is made by man, to stop with sl [...]nder raigne:
But man himselfe his lust and fond desire,
Is seldome drawn by rea­son to refraine;
Tis hard to stop, but har­der to retire,
When youthfull course ensueth pleasure vaine,
As Bears do breake the hiues and weake defences,
When smell of honie commeth to their sences.
No maruell if Rogero could not hold,
But that he would now take a little sport,
That naked did Angelica behold,
Within a groue alone from all resort;
His loue to Bradamant now waxeth cold,
Or at the least is temperd in such sort,
He meanes therewith at this time to dispence,
And not to let this go a maiden hence.
Whose beautie was so rare as well it might,
A notable St [...]k.
Haue made Zenocrates an Epicure,
No maruell then if this same gentle knight,
Could not so great temptation well endure:
But while he hastend to his hopt delight,
Of which he thought him in possession sure,
There fell a strange and vnexpected thing,
By meanes Angelica did know the ring.
This was the ring that she with her had brought,
To France, the verie first time she was there,
What time by ayd thereof so well she wrought,
She holp her brother to th'inchanted speare,
By vertue of this ring she set at nought,
Those magicke arts, that men so greatly feare:
With this Orlando Countie Palladine,
She did release from wicked Dragontine,
By helpe of this inuisible she went,
Out of the towre where Atlant had her set:
A [...] of [...] Or [...]
For this same ring Brunello false was sent
By Agramant, who longd the same to get,
To tell that storie is not my intent,
For feare it might my other matter let,
But certaine tis, that when this ring was lost,
In fortunes waues she had bene euer tost.
Now when she saw this ring was on her hand,
She was so strooke with maruell and with ioy,
That scarce she could discerne and vnderstand,
If she were wake or if she dreamd sometoy:
But to make triall how the case doth stand,
And know if she this treasure doth inioy,
Into her mouth the ring she doth conuay,
And straight inuisible she goeth away.
Rogero that each minute thought an howre,
(His armour of, and readie for the play)
Expecting now the damsell in a bowre,
Where he had pointed her for him to stay,
Found all to late, that by the rings strange powre,
She had vnseene conuayd her selfe away.
He lent it her to saue her eyes from blindnesse,
And for reward she quits him with vnkindnesse,
With which her act dipleasd and ill apaid,
He curst himselfe, and chased in his mind:
O cruell and vnthankfull wench (he said)
Is this the loue that I deseru'd to find?
Dost thou reward him thus that brought thee aid?
To thy preseruer art thou so vnkind?
Take ring and shield, and flying horse and me,
This onely barre me not thy face to see.
This said, he go [...]th about where she had beene,
Still groping as the weather had bin darke,
Embracing oft the aire his armes betweene,
In steed of her, then heedfull he doth harke,
To find her by the sound that was not seene,
And whence the same doth come he wel doth mark.
But on went she vntill it was her lote
To come into a silly shepheards cote.
And though this same were far from any towne,
Yet there she quickly did her selfe prouide
Of meate and drinke, and of a simple gowne,
Sufficient for the time her bare to hide,
Not suting for a Ladie of renowne,
That had bin euer clad in pompe and pride,
Had gownes of crimson, purple and carnasion,
Of eu'ry colour, and of eu'ry fashion.
But yet no kind of weed so base or ill is,
Her of her princely beautie to bereaue,
They that so much extoll faire Amarillis,
Or Galate, do but them themselues deceaue:
Cease Tyterus to praise thy golden Phillis,
Peace Melebe, this passes by your leaue;
Ye souldiers all that serue in Cupids garrison,
May not presume with this to make comparison.
Now here the damsell faire a palfrey hired,
With other things most needfull for her way,
And means to her owne home to haue retired,
[...] to An­ [...] the 12. [...] staffe.
From whence she had bin absent many a day.
The while Rogero now with trauell tired,
Lamenting he had lost so faire a pray,
Doth seeke his horse who had not long bin idle,
But in his masters absence brake his bridle.
Which when he found, the raines in peeces torne,
The horse soard far away with mightie wing,
How could such haps with patientnesse be borne,
Of one great losse to find a greater spring?
He sitteth in a dumpe, like one forlorne,
For losse of her, his horse, and of his ring,
Whose vertue great did make him much repent it,
But yet much more her vertue that had sent it.
And in this rage he puts his armor on,
And on his shoulder carieth his shield,
Pursuing that first path he lights vpon,
He found it brought him to a goodly field,
On side whereof when he a while had gone,
It seemd the wood adioynd some sound did yeeld,
And still the neare and nearer that he goes,
The plainer sound he heard of sturdy bloes.
A combat twixt a Giant and a Knight,
He sees hard by most furiously begunne,
The Giant with a club doth think by might,
The battell of the tother to haue wonne;
The tother with his sword and nimble fight,
His furious blowes with watchfull eye doth shunne.
Rogero seeing this great inequalitie,
Yet standeth still and shewes no partialitie.
But in his mind he wisht the Knight to win,
When lo the Giant with new fury fed,
To lay on lode with both hands doth begin,
And with one blow he layes him downe for dead,
And straight in cruell sort he steppeth in,
For to disarme him, and cut off his head:
But when the Giant had the face disarmed,
Rogero knew the partie he had harmed.
He saw it was his Bradamant most deare,
Whom this same Giant would haue made to die,
Wherefore with courage stout he steppeth neare,
The Giant to new combat to defie,
Who either heares him not, or would not heare,
Or meaneth not a conflict new to trie,
But tooke her vp, and on his shoulders layd her,
And so in hast away from thence conuayd her.
So haue I seene a wolfe to beare away
A lambe from shepheards fold, so haue I seene
An Eagle on a silly Doue to pray,
And soare aloft the skie and earth betweene:
Rogero hies him after as he may,
Vntill he came vnto a goodly greene,
But th'other eu'ry step so much out stept him,
That in his view Rogero scantly kept him.
But now a while of him I speake no more,
And to Orlando I returne againe,
He comes to Ro­gero again in the 1 [...] book, staff. 14.
Who hauing lost the sight of Holland shore,
Did hasten to Ebuda with much paine:
I did declare not many books before,
How he Cymoscos engin strange did gaine,
And to the bottome of the sea did throw it,
That none might find it out againe or know it.
And though his meaning and intent was so,
Yet vaine it was, as after was perceiued,
For why, that serpent vile our auncient so,
That Eua first in Paradise deceiued,
Not much aboue two hundred yeares ago,
(As we from our forefathers haue receiued)
From out the sea by necromancie brought it,
And then in Almanie afresh they wrought it.
They wrought it both in iron and in brasse,
The cunning and the art increasing still,
As oft by proofe we find it comes to passe,
The worse the worke, the greater growes the skill,
And to each kind a name assignd there was,
According to the first inuenters will,
To tell the names of all were but a trouble,
Some demicanons, some are called double.
The Cul [...]erings to shoot a bullet farre,
The Falcon, [...]aker, [...]ini [...]n and the Sling,
Not armed men, but walled townes to marre,
Such [...] force is in this hellish thing.
Ye souldiers braue, and valiant men of warre,
Now cease to field your manly darts to bring,
And get a hargubush vpon your shoulder,
Or el [...]e in vaine you sue to be a souldier.
How didst thou find (oh filthy foule inuention)
A harbor [...]afe in any humane hart?
Thou mak'st a coward get the souldiers pension,
And souldiers braue thou robst of due desart,
Whole millions haue bin slaine, as stories mention,
Since first [...] was this wicked art,
France, Italy and England chiefe may rew it,
Since first they vsd this art, and first they knew it.
The English bowmen may go burne their boes,
And breake their [...], and cut in two the string,
That weapon now may keepe the corne from croes,
That did the French at Agincourt so sting:
But to that wight I wish a world of woes,
That did to light, deuice so diu'llish bring,
Let him be giu'n into the hands of Sathan,
To be tormented ay with C [...]re and Dathan.
Now good [...] though he greatly striued,
With speed to get him to the Ile of wo,
Yet first the Irish King was there arriued,
By chance, or else that God would haue it so,
Because it might the better be contriued,
On wrongfull wights his iudgements iust to show.
But when [...] b [...] once in sight appeared,
Orlando all the companie straight cheared.
And putting off his armes of colour sable,
He bids the master out to launch his boate,
And in the same anker strong and cable,
With which he mean [...]s vnto this Ile to floate,
Not doubting (if lucke serue) he will be able,
To put the anker in the monsters throate.
And thus alone the noble Knight doth venter,
Into the I [...]e [...] buda then to enter.
Now was the time when as Aurora faire,
Began to shew the world her golden head,
And looke abroade to take the coole fresh aire,
[...] lying still in iealous bed,
When as Orlando hither did repaire,
By two blind guides, Cupid and Fortune led,
When lo vnto the shore his shipboate turning,
He seemd to heare a noise as one were mourning.
At which strange sound casting his eye aside,
He might discerne a goodly damsell naked,
With armes abrode vnto the rocke fast tide,
That what with cold and what with terror shaked,
Eftsoones the hideous monster he espide,
Whose light might well haue made stout harts haue quaked,
Orland [...] [...]nd therewith is not [...],
Nor his high courage any w [...] abated.
He gets betweene the monster and his pray,
That pray that he so hotly doth pursue,
And (for before he was resolu'd what way
He would attempt the monster to subdue)
Vpon his shoulder doth the anker lay,
And when he came within his vgly vew,
Euen mauger all his malice, might and rancor,
Into his open iawes he beares the ancor.
As they that dig in mine of cole or stone,
The same in sundry places vnderprop,
Lest it should fall when least they thinke thereon,
And so their breath or else their passage stop:
So is this anker fastend in the bone,
Both in the bottome of his mouth and top,
That though he would againe he could not close it,
Nor wider open it for to vnlose it.
Now hauing gagd his hideous chaps so sure,
That out and in he can with safetie go,
He enters with his sword the place obscure,
And there bestoweth many a thrust and blow,
And as that citie cannot be secure,
That hath within her wals receiu'd her fo,
No safer could this Orke be now from danger,
That in his entrals hath receiu'd a stranger.
But griped now with pangs of inward paine,
Sometime he plungeth vp vnto the skie,
Sometime he diueth to the deepe againe,
And makes the troubled sands to mount on hie:
Orlando feels the sea come in amaine,
That forced him at last his swimming trie,
He swims to shore with body strong and able,
And beares vpon his neck the ankers cable.
And as a sauage Bull that vnaware
About his hornes hath now a cord fast bound,
Doth striue in vaine to breake the hunters snare,
And skips, and leaps, and flings, and runneth round,
So though Orlando with his strength so rare,
Assaid to draw him nearer to the ground,
Yet doth he fetch an hundred frisks and more,
Ere he could draw him vp vpon the shore.
His wounded bowels shed such store of blood,
The [...] deed [...] [...]ed [...] the s [...] at the [...] wakes [...]
They call that sea the red sea to this howre,
Sometime he breathed such a sudden flood,
As made the clearest weather seeme to lowre,
The hideous noise fild eu'ry caue and wood,
So that god Proteus doubting his owne powre,
Fled straight fro thence, himself in corners hiding,
Not daring longer here to make abiding.
And all the gods that dwell in surging waues,
With this same tumult grow in such a feare,
They hid themselues in rocks and hollow caues,
Left that Orlando should haue found them there:
Neptune with triple mace by flight him saues,
His charret drawne with dolphins doth him beare,
Nor yet behind Glaucus or Triton taried,
For feare in these new broiles to haue miscaried.
Those Ilanders that all this while attended,
And saw the monster drawne to land and tane,
With superstition moued much, condemned
This godly worke for wicked and profane;
As though that Proteus would be new offended,
That had before, and now might worke their bane.
They doubt he wold (thus fools their good haps con­sters
Send to their land his flock of vgly monsters.
And therefore Proteus anger to appease,
They meane to drowne Orlando if they can,
Whose deed they deemd his godhead did displease [...]
And eu'n as fire doth creepe from bran to bran,
Vntill the pile of wood it wholy cease,
So doth this fury grow from man to man,
That they concluded all vpon the matter,
To throw Orlando bound into the water.
One takes a sling, another takes a bow,
This with a sword is armd, he with a speare,
And some afore, and some behind him go,
Some neare approch, some stand aloofe for feare:
He museth much what his vngratefull so
Should meane, for benefits such mind to beare:
And inwardly he was displeasd and sory,
To find such wrong where he deserued glory.
As little curres that barke at greatest Beare,
Yet cannot cause him once his way to shunne,
No more doth he these curlike creatures feare,
That like a sort of mad men on him runne.
And (for they saw he did no armor weare)
They thought the feat would haue bin easly done,
They knew not that his skin from head to foote,
Was such to strike on it, it was no boote.
But when that he his Durindana drew,
He layd there with about him in such sort,
That straight their faintnes and his force they knew,
They found to fight with him it was no sport.
Thrise ten of them at blowes but ten he slew,
Their fellowes fled that saw them cut so short,
Which foes thus foild, Orlando now intended
T'vnloose the Ladie whom he had defended.
But now this while, behold the Irish band
Arriued neare vnto their chiefest citie,
Who had no sooner set their foote on land,
But that forthwith they put apart all pittie,
And slue all sorts that came vnto their hand,
The fierce, the faint, the foolish and the wittie,
Thus were't iust doome, or were it cruell rage,
They spar'd of neither sexe nor neither age.
Thus th'lle of wo is made a wofull Ile,
And for the peoples sake they plague the place,
Orlando sets the Lady free the while,
That there was bound in that vnseemly case,
To haue bin giuen vnto the monster vile:
And viewing well, he cald to mind her face,
And that it should Olympia be he guessed,
But twas Olympia that had thus bin dressed.
Distrest Olympia thus vnkindly serued,
Whom loue and fortune made a double scorne:
For first of him, of whom she best deserued,
She was forsaken quite and left forlorne.
And next by pyrats taken and reserued,
Of monster vile to be in peeces torne.
And in this case the good Orlando found her,
And then with great compassion he vnbound her.
And thus he said, now tell what strange annoy,
Or euill hap hath hurt thy happie raigne?
Whom late I left in solace and in ioy.
Why do I find in danger and in paine?
How is the blisse that thou didst then enioy.
So chang'd and turnd to misery againe?
And she in wofull maner thus replied,
When shame her cheeks with crimson first had died:
I know not if my chance or else my choice,
If fortune or my folly be in blame,
Shall I lament, or shall I now reioyce,
That liue in wo, and should haue did in shame [...]
And as she spake, the teares did stop her voice:
But when againe vnto her selfe she came,
She told him all the wofull story weeping,
How false Byreno had betraid her sleeping.
And how from that same Ile where he betrayd her,
A crew of cursed pyrats did her take,
And to this wicked Iland had conuayd her,
For that same foule and vgly monsters sake,
Where now it was Orlandos hap to ayd her:
She walked naked when these words she spake [...]
Looke how Diana painted is in tables,
Among the rest of Ouids pleasant fables.
Of whose sharpe doome the Poet there doth tell,
Ouid. M [...]tam. 3.
How she with hornes Actaeon did inuest,
Because he saw her naked at the well:
So stands Olympia faire, with face and brest,
And sides, and thighes to be discerned well,
And legs and feet, but yet she hides the rest.
And as they two were talking thus together,
Oberto king of Irish Ile came thither.
Who being moued at the strange report,
That one alone the monster should assaile,
And gag him with an anker in such sort,
To make his strength, and life, and all to faile,
Then draw him to the shore as ship to port:
Is towd with ropes, without or oares or saile
This made him go to find Orlando out,
The while his souldiers spoiled all about.
Now when the King this worthy Knight did see,
Though all with bloud and water foule distained,
Yet straight he guest it should Orlando be,
For in his youth in France he had remained,
And knew the Lords and Knights of best degree,
In Charles his court a page of honor trained:
Their old acquaintance cauld at this new meeting.
They had a louing and a friendly gre [...]ting.
And then Orlando told the Irish king,
How and by whom Olympia was abused,
By one whom out of danger great to bring,
She had no paine nor death it selfe refused,
How he himselfe was witnesse of the thing.
While they thus talke, Oberto her perused,
Whose sorrows past, renewd with present feares,
Did fill her louely eyes with watry teares.
Such colour had her face, as when the Sunne
Doth thine on watry cloud in pleasant spring,
And eu'n as when the sommer is begunne,
The Nightingales in boughes do sit and sing,
So that blind god, whose force can no man shunne,
Sits in her eyes, and thence his darts doth fling,
And bathes his wings in her cleare cristall streames,
And sunneth them in her rare beauties beames.
In the [...]e he heates his golden headed dart,
In those he cooleth it, and temperd so,
He leuels thence at good Obertos hart,
And to the head he drawth it in his bow,
Thus is he wounded deepe and feeles no smart,
H [...]s armor cannot send to fierce a blow:
For while on her faire eyes and limbes he gaped,
The arrow came thet could not be escaped.
The description of Olympias beautie.
And sure Olympias beauties were so rare,
As might well moue a man the same to note,
Her haire, her eyes, her cheeks most amorous are,
Her nose, her mouth, her shoulders and her throte,
As for her other parts that then were bare,
Which she was wont to couer with her cote,
Were made in such a mould as might haue moued
The chast Hipolytus her to haue loued.
A man would thinke them framd by Phydias arts,
Their colour and proportion good was such,
And vnto them her shamefastnesse imparts
A greater grace to that before was much:
I cease to praise those other secret parts,
As not so fit to talke of as to tuch,
In generall all was as white as milke,
As smoth as iuory, and as soft as silke.
Had she in valley of Idea beene,
When Pastor Paru hap did to befall,
To be a iudge three goddesses betweene,
She should haue got, and they forgone the ball.
Had she but once of him bene naked seene;
For He [...]era he had not car'd at all,
Nor broke the bonds of sacred hospitalitie,
That bred his country warres and great mortalitie.
Had she but then bene in Crotana towne,
Zeuces looke in the [...].
When Zeuce [...] for the goddesse Iunos sake,
To paint a picture of most rare renowne,
Did many of the fairest damsels make
To stand before him bare from foote to crowne,
A patterne of their perfect parts to take,
No doubt he would haue all the rest refused,
And her alone in steed of all haue chused.
I doubtlesse deeme Byreno neuer vewd
Her naked corps, for certaine if he had,
He could not so all humane sence exclude,
To leaue her thus alone in state so bad:
But briefly all this matter to conclude,
It seemd Oberto would haue bin full glad,
In this her wo, her misery and need,
To comfort her by either word or deed.
And straight he promist that he would attend her,
And set her in her country if he may,
And mauger all her enemies defend her,
And take reuenge on him did her betray.
And that he might both men and money lend her,
He would to pawne his realme of Ireland lay,
Nor till she were restor'd aske no repayment,
And straight he sought about to get her raiment.
They need not trauell farre to find a gowne,
For why immediatly they found good store,
By sending to the next adioyning towne,
The which his men of warre had spoild before,
Where many a worthy Ladie of renowne,
That had bene naked tide vnto the shore,
And many a tender virgin and vnfoiled,
Were of their raiment and their liues despoiled.
And yet for all they were so richly gownd,
Oberto could not cloath her as he wold,
No not in Florence (though it doth abound
With rich embroderies of pearle and gold)
Could any peece of precious stuffe be found,
Of worth to serue to keepe her from the cold,
Whose shape was so exact in euery part,
Euen hard to match by nature or by art.
Orlando with this loue was well content,
As one that hither came with other end,
For sith he mist Angelica, he ment
His iourney backe to France againe to bend,
With them by ship to Ireland first he went,
As in his way, and with the king his frend,
Not hearing, had his loue bin here or no,
For all were dead that could haue told him so.
At both their sutes be scant staid there one day,
His passing loue such passions in him bred,
But ere he went he doth Oberto pray
To do for her as much as he had sed,
And parting so from thence he tooke his way,
Eu'n as his fortune and his fancie led,
But good Oberto need not be desired,
To do as much or more then he required.
For few dayes past but that with her he went
To Holland, where he raised such commotion,
That straight Byreno taken was and shent,
Receiuing on three trees a iust promotion:
And all those countries did forthwith consent,
To sweare them faith and be at their deuotion.
Thus of a Countesse she is made a Prince,
And liues in ioy and solace euer since.
Orlando bends his course to Brittish shore,
[...]f the [...]mpia.
Whence he not long before to ship did mount,
Where he had left his famous Brilliadore,
A goodly courser and of good account,
No doubt of valiant acts he did good store,
Though what they were I cannot here recount,
For such a minde he carride still vnto them,
He cared not to tell them, but to do them.
But in what fashion he did passe the rest
Of that vnfortunate and fatall yeare,
I say by me it cannot be exprest,
Because thereof no record doth appeare,
But when the spring did ground with green inuest,
And sunne in Gemini made weather cleare,
Then did he acts both worthie of reciting,
And to be kept in euerlasting writing.
From hils to dales, from woods to pastures wide,
From waters fresh vnto the salt sea shore,
To seeke his loue he vp and downe doth ride,
The lesse he finds he seeketh still the more;
At last he heard a voice for helpe that cride,
He drawes his sword aud spurs his Brilliadore,
But to refresh the reader now tis reason,
And stay my storie to a better season.

In the beginning of this eleuenth booke is a notable morall of temperance,Moral. with two comparisons, one of the horse, ano­ther of the Beare, which I iudge fit for this place rather to be repeated then expounded. If (saith he) a horse, with a little snaffle, may be stopt in his full carrire, what a shame is it for a man not to bridle his disordinate affections with reason, but to be like a Beare so greedie of honie, that he breakes downe the hiues, and deuoureth the combes, till his tongue, eyes and iawes be stong, readie to make him runne mad: so do young men deuoure with extreme greedinesse, these sensuall pleasures, of venerie, surfetting, drinking, pride in apparrell, and all intemperance, till in the end they are plagued with sicknesse, pouertie, and many other inconueniences to their vtter ruine and confusion. Wherefore in the person of Rogero young men may weigh the losses he had by following his present fancie to Angelica; namely his ring and his horse: by the tone is vnderstood reason, by the other courage. In Angelica whose beutie so exceedingly shined in her poore apparel, you great Ladies may see, that your true natural beauties becom you best, beside that it hath euer bene counted a great signe of modestie and chast disposition in women, to be rather cleanly then sumptuous in apparrell, for the vaine expence therin hath bene often occasion both to corrupt the minds and manners of many not ill disposed. And therefore that excellent verse of Sir Philip Sidney in his first Arcadia (which I know not by what mishap is left out in the printed booke) is in mine opinion worthie to be praised and followed, to make a good and vertuous wife.

Who doth desire that chast his wife should bee,
First be he true, for truth doth truth deserue,
Then be he such as she his worth may see,
And alwayes one credit with her preserue:
Not toying kind, nor causlesly vnkind,
Not stirring thoughts, nor yet denying right:
Not spying faults, not in plaine errors blind,
Neuer hard hand, nor euer rayns too light:
As far from want, as far from vaine expence,
Tone doth enforce, the tother doth entice,
Allow good companie, but driue fro thence,
All filthie mouths that glorie in their vice.
This done, thou hast no more but leaue the rest,
To nature, fortune, time, and womans brest.

In which you see his opinion of the two extremities of want and vaine expence.

Of the inuention of gunnes,Historie, as I somewhat touched two bookes before, so here you see how he affirmath in a manner that they were inuented in Germanie. And so I haue read, that the first time they were vsed was in the yeare 1391. in the Venetians war against the Genoas, but it is maruell that the inuentors name of so monstrous a thing is not knowne.

Baken the great English necromancer wrote many yeares before that time, that he knew how to make an engin, that with salt peter and brimstone wel tempered together should proue notable for batterie, but he said he would not discouer it, for feare it would be a meane to destroy all mankinde.

In the destruction of the Ile of Ebuda, Allegorie. and all that hath bene sayd of it before, with the monsters that are said to de­uoure women naked and forsaken, this Allegoricall sence is to be picked out (though to some perhaps it will seeme greatly strayned.) By the Iland is signified pride, and loosnesse of life, that they are brought to (by pirats) which signifie flatte­rers, that go rouing about to tise them hither, robbing them indeed of all their comely garments of modestie, and so­brietie, and at last leaue them naked vpon the shore, despised and forsaken, to be deuoured of most vgly and misshapen monsters signified by the Orke, as filthie diseases', deformities, and all kinde of contemptiple things, which monsters, a good plaine friend, with an anker of fidelitte will kill, as Orlando did this, and so cloth againe the nakednesse, that before pride and flatterie made vs lay open to the world.

And whereas is it said that Neptune and Proteus fled from Orlando, Allusion. it is meant that a true Christian driues a­away all superstitious idolatrie, where soeuer he commeth.

I finde no Allusion worth the noting.



Orlando doth pursue with great disdaine,
One that did seeme his loue by force to carrie:
Rogero led by such another traine,
With him doth in the charmed pallace tarrie:
Orlando parting from the place againe,
He sees indeed her whom he fai [...]e would marrie,
Fights with Ferraw, and foiles two Turkish bands,
And findes faire Isabell in outlawes hands.
FAire Ceres when she hast­ned backe againe,
From great Ideahomward to returne,
There where Enceladus with endles paine,
Doth beare mount Aetna that doth ener burne,
When she had sought her daughter long in vaine,
Whose losse so strange did make ye mother mourne,
[...]la duabus [...]as p [...] [...] Sp [...]undo [...] [...]er coach [...]rpents.
She spoiles for spite her brest, cheeks, eyes and heare,
At last two boughs from Pyne tree she doth teare.
In Vulcans forge slie sets on fire the brands,
And giues them powre for euer to be light,
And taking one a peece in both her hands,
And drawne in coach by yoked serpents might,
She searcheth woods and fields and seas and lands,
And brooks and streames and dens deuoyd of light,
And hearing here on earth no newes to like her,
At last she went to hell it selfe to seake her.
Were good Orlandos powre to be compared,
As well with Ceres as his louing minde,
He would no paine, no place, nor time haue spared,
His deare belou'd Angelyca to finde,
To go to rocks and caues he would haue dared,
And place to saints, and place to sends assignd,
He onely wanted one of Ceres waggons,
In which she carried was with flying draggons.
How he did search all France before he told,
Now Italy to search is his intent,
And Germany and Castill new and old,
And then to Affrica to pasle he ment,
And as he thus determined, behold
He heard a voice that seemed to lament,
And drawing nye to vnderstand what tyding,
On a great horse he saw a horse man ryding.
Perforce he bare vpon his saddle bow,
A Lady sorrowfull and sore afrayd,
That cryde a loud still making open show,
Of inward griefe and thus to him she said,
O worthy wight (Lord of Anglante) know
I dye, I dye, without you bring me ayd,
And then he thought coming more nie to vew her,
It was Angelyca, and that he knew her.
I say not that it was, but that it seemd,
To be Angelyca that thus was caryd,
But he that iustly great disgrace it deemd,
Thus in his sight, to haue his mistresse haryd,
Whose loue aboue all treasures he esteemd,
To take reuenge hereof he nothing taryd,
But put his spurres to Bril [...]adores sides,
And in great hast to that same horseman rydes.
With many bloodie words and cruell threts,
He bids that horseman to come backe againe,
But he at naught his wordes and speeches sets,
Reioycing in so rich a gotten gayne,
The vilen still ground of Orlando gets,
Vntill they came into a faire large plaine,
Wherein a house of great estate was built,
The gate hereof in gorgeous sort was gilt.
The building all of marble faire was wrought,
Most costly caru'd and cunningly contriued,
To this faire house his pray the soule thief brought,
Straight after him Orlando there arriued:
Then he alights and all abcut he sought,
For him that had him of his ioy depriued,
He maketh search in chambers all about,
And galleries and halls to finde them out.
Each roome he finds set forth with rich aray,
With beds of silke, and gold of curious art,
But yet he finds not that desired pray.
The want whereof did sore torment his hart.
There might he finde with like affliction stray,
Gradass [...], Sacrapant and Brandimart,
And fearce Ferraw postest with strange confusion,
Procured in that place by strong illusion.
They all complaine in anger and in rage,
How of this house the master them hath vsed,
One lost his horse, another lost his page,
Another doubts his mistresse is abused:
Thus are they kept like birds within a cage,
And stand with sense and wits and words confused,
And manie with this strange deception carried,
Within this place both weeks & months had tarried
Orlando when he saw he could not learne,
Where this same theefe his mistresse had conuaid,
Thought she was carride out at some posterne;
Wherfore within no longer time he staid,
But walkes about the cattle to discerne,
I [...] that were true of which he was asf aid:
But as he [...]alked vp and downe the plaine,
He thought he heard her call him backe againe.
And to a window casting vp his eve,
He thought he saw her face full of diuinitie,
And that he heard her plainly thus to crie,
Onoble wight of proued magnanimitie,
Helpe now, or neuer helpe, alas shall
In mine Orlandos sight leese my virginitie?
Kill me, or let a thousand deathes befall me,
Rather then let a villaine so to thrall me.
These wofull speeches once or twise repeted,
Caus'd him returne into the house againe,
And searching once againe he chaste and freted,
(Hope still asswaging somewhat of his paine)
And oft he heard the voice that counterfeted
The speech of his Angelica most plaine,
From side to side he follow'd still the sound,
But of Angelica no signe he found.
Now while Orlando tarrid in this traunce,
In hope for to auenge his mistresse harmes,
Roger [...] (who I told you had this chaunce)
To see his Fradamant in gyants armes,
(Drawne to this place with such another daunce)
Namely by force of some vnusuall charmes,
Saw first the gvant in this castle enter,
And after him he boldly doth aduenter.
But when he came within the castle walls,
And made much narrow search, as in such case,
In garrets, towrs, in parlers and in halls,
And vnder staires and many a homely place,
Oft casting doubts what hurt his loue befalls,
Or left the theefe were gone in this meane space,
Forthwith he walketh out into the plaine,
And heares a voice recall him backe againe.
That voice that lately did Orlando make,
Returne in hope Angelica to finde,
Rogero now for Bradamant doth take,
Whose loue no lesse possest his carefull minde:
And when the voice vnto Gradasso spake,
Or Sacrapant, or Brandimart most kinde,
To euerie one of these it plainely seemed,
To be her voice whom ech one best esteemed
Atlanta had procur'd this strange inuention,
Thereby to keepe Rogero from mischance,
Because he saw, it was the heauens intention,
That he by treason should be kild in France,
Ferraw and those of whom I last made mention,
Whith all whom vallew highest did aduance,
To keepe him companie he here detained,
With good prouision while they here remained.
And while these knights with strange enchanments bound
Do here abide, behold the Indian queene
Angelica that late her ring had found,
(Whose vettue can her cause to go vnseene,
And also frustrate magicke skill profound)
Now longing home, where long she had not been,
And being now of needfull things prouided,
Yet wants she one that her might hom haue guided
Orlandos companie she would haue had,
Or Sacrapant, she car'd not which oftwaine,
Not that of eithers loue she would be glad,
For them and all the world she did disdaine,
But (for the way was dangerous and bad.
In time of warre to trauell France and Spaine)
She wisht for her owne safetie and her ease,
To haue the companie of one of these.
Wherefore a while she trauels vp and downe,
To seek for them that long in vaine had sought her,
And passing many woods and many a towne,
Vnto this place at last good fortune brought her,
Where whē she saw these knights of great renowne,
Thus seeke for her, she scant abstaines frō laughter,
To see Atlantas cunning and dissembling,
Her person and her voice so right resembling.
Her selfe vnseene, sees them and all the rest,
Now meanes she sure to take one of them two,
But yet she knowes not which (her doubtfull brest
Did stay as vnresolued what to do)
Orlandos vellew could defend her best,
But then this doubt is added thereunto,
That when she once so highly had prefard him,
She shall not know againe how to discard him.
But Sacrapant although she should him lift
High vp to heauen, yet maketh the no doubt,
But she will find some sleight and pretie shift,
With her accustom'd coynesse him to lout:
To him she goes, resolued of this drift,
And straight the precious ring she taketh out
From of her mouth, which made her go concealed,
With mind to him alone to be reuealed.
But straight came in Orlando and Ferraw,
That both desired, her to haue enioyd,
Thus all of them at once their goddesse saw,
Not being now by magick [...] art annoyd,
For when the ring on finger she did draw,
She made vnwares all their enchantments voyd,
These three were all in complet armor, saue
Ferraw no headpeece had, nor none would haue.
The cause was this, he solemnely had sworne,
Vpon his head no helmet should be set,
But that that was by stour Orlando worne,
[...]- [...]rasano.
Which he did erst from Traians brother get,
Ferraw to weare a helmet had forborne,
Since with the ghost of Argall he had met:
Thus in this sort they came together armed,
By vertue of her ring now all vncharmed.
All three at once do now the damsell vew,
All three at once on her would straight haue seased,
All three her faithfull louers were she knew,
Yet with all three at once she is displeased,
And from all three she straight her selfe withdrew,
Who (haply) one at once would her haue pleased,
From henceforth none of them she thinks to need,
But that the ring shall serue in all their steed.
She hastens hence and will no longer stay,
Disdaine and feare together make her swift,
Into a wood she leades them all the way,
But when she saw there was none other shift,
Into her mouth the ring she doth conuay,
That euer holpe her at the deadest list,
And out of all their fights forth with she vanished,
And leaues them all with wonder halfe astonished.
Onely one path there was, and that not wide,
In this they followd her with no small hast,
But she first causd her horse to step aside,
And standeth still a while till they were past,
And then at better leisure she doth ride,
A farre more easie pace, and not so fast,
Vntill they three continuing still their riding,
Came to a way in sundry parts diuiding.
And comming where they found no further tracke,
Ferraw, that was before the tother two,
In choler and in fury great turnd backe,
And askt the other what they meant to do,
And (as his maner was to brag and cracke)
Demaunded how they durst presume to wo,
Or follow her, whose propertie he claimed,
Except they would of him be slaine or maimed.
Orlando straight replide, thou foolish beast,
Saue that I see thou doest an helmet want,
I would ere this haue taught thee at the least,
Hereafter with thy betters not to vant:
Ferraw doth thank [...] him for his care (in ieast)
And said it shewd his wits were very scant,
For as he was he would not be afraid,
To proue against them both that he had said.
Sir, said Orlando to the Pagan King,
Lend him your headpeece, and er we go hence,
I will this beast in better order bring,
Or sharply punish him for his offence.
Nay soft (said Sacrapant) that were a thing,
The which to grant might shew I had no sence,
Lend you him yours, for Ile not go to schoole,
To know as well as you to bob a foole.
Tush (quoth Ferraw) fooles to your faces both,
As though if I had bin disposd to weare one,
I would haue sufferd (were you leiue or loth)
The best and proudest of you both to beare one,
The truth is this, that I by solemne oth
Vpon a certaine chance did once forsweare one,
That on my head no helmet should be donne,
Vntill I had Orlandos helmet wonne.
What (quoth the Earle) then seems it vnto thee,
Thy force so much Orlandos doth surmount,
That thou couldst do the same to him, that he
Vnto Almonta did in Aspramount?
Rather I thinke, if thou his face should see,
Thou wouldst so farre be wide of thine account,
That thou wouldst tremble ouer all thy body,
And yeeld thy selfe and armour like a nody.
The Spanish vaunter (like to all the nation)
Said he had often with Orlando met,
And had him at aduantage in such fashion,
That had he lift he might his helmet get,
But thus (quoth he) the time brings alteration,
That now I seeke, I then at naught did set,
To take his helmet from him then I spared,
Because as then for it I little cared.
Then straight Orlando mou'd in rightfull anger,
Made answer thus, thou foole and murren lier,
I cannot now forbeare thee any longer,
I am whom thou to find doest to desier,
When met we two that thou didst part the stronger?
Thou thoughtst me farder, thou shalt feele me nier,
Try now if thou beest able me to foyle,
Or I can thee of all thy armour spoyle.
Nor do I seeke to take this ods of thee,
This said, forthwith his helmet he vntide,
And hung the same fast by vpon a tree,
Then drew his Durindana from his side;
And in like sort you might the Spaniard see,
That was no whit abated of his pride,
How he his sword and target straight prepard,
And lay most manfully vnto his ward.
And thus these champions do the fight begin
Vpon their coursers fierce, themselues more fierce,
And where the armour ioynes and is most thin,
There still they striue with sturdy strokes to pierce:
Search all the world, and two such men therein
Could not be found, for as old bookes rehearse,
Their skins were such, as had they bin vnarmed,
Yet could they not with weapons haue bin harmed.
Ferraw had in his youth inchantment such,
That but his nauell, hard was all the rest,
Vnto Orlando there was done as much,
By prayer of some saint (as may be guest)
Saue in his feet, which he let no man tuch,
Take it for truth, or take it for a iest,
Thus I haue found it wrote, that they indeed
Ware armor more for shew then any need.
Thus twixt them two the fight continues still,
Yet not so sharpe in substance as in show;
Ferraw imploying all his art and skill,
Sharpe thrusts vpon the tother to bestow:
Orlando that hath euer strength at will,
Layth on the Spaniard many a lustie blow:
Angelica doth stand fast by vnseene,
And sees alone the battell them betweene.
For why the Pagan Prince was gone the while,
To find her out, when they together fought,
And by their strife, that he might both beguile,
He hopes, and had conceiued in his thought:
[...] again [...] 27 book, 15 staff.
He rides away, and trauels many a mile,
And still his deare beloued mistris sought,
And thus it came to passe that she that day,
Was onely present at so great a fray.
Which when she saw continue in such sort,
Not yet could guesse by ought that she did see,
Which was most like to cut the other short,
She takes away the helmet from the tree,
And thinks by this to make her selfe some sport,
Or they by this might sooner sundred be,
Not meaning in such sort away to set it,
But that the worthy Earle againe may get it.
And with the same away from hence she goes,
The while they two with paine and trauell tired,
In giuing and in taking deadly bloes,
Ferraw (that mist the headpeece first) retired,
And for he did most certainly suppose,
That Sacrapant had tane it vndesired,
Good Lord (said he) what meane we here to do?
This other knight hath cousened vs two,
And vnawares the helmet tane away.
Orlando hearing this, doth looke aside,
And missing it, he doth beleeue straightway,
As did Ferraw, and after him they ride:
They came at last into a parted way,
That in two parts itselfe doth there deuide,
Fresh tracke in both of them was to be seene,
This of the Knight, that of the Indian Queene.
Orlando hap was to pursue the Knight,
Ferraw, that was more luckie of the twaine,
Happend vpon Angelica to light,
Who to refresh her former taken paine,
Fast by a fountaine did before alight,
And seeing sodainly the knight of Spaine,
Straight like a shadow from his fight the past,
And on the ground the helmet left with hast.
But as the fight of her did make him glad,
In hope by this good fortune her to get,
So thus againe to loose her made him sad,
And shewd that she did him at nothing set:
Then curst he as he had bin raging mad,
Blaspheming Tryuigant and Mahomet,
And all the Gods adord in Turks profession,
The griefe in him did make so deepe impression.
Yet when he had Orlando helmet spide,
And knew it was by letters writ thereon,
The same for which Traianos brother dide,
He takes it quickly vp and puts it on,
And then in hast he after her doth ride,
That was out of his sight so strangely gone,
He takes the helmet, thinking little shame,
Although he came not truly by the same.
But seeing she away from him was fled,
Nor where she was he knew nor could not guesse,
Himselfe from hence to Paris ward he sped,
His hope to find her waxing lesse and lesse:
And yet the sorrow that her losse had bred,
Was part asswag'd, the helmet to possesse,
Though afterward when as Orlando knew it,
He sware great othes that he would make him rew it.
But how Orlando did againe it get,
And how Ferraw was plagued for that crime,
And how they two betweene two bridges met,
Whereas Ferraw was killed at that time,
My purpose is not to declare as yet,
But to another story turne my rime:
Now I must tell you of that Indian Queene,
By vertue of her ring that goeth vnseene.
Who parted thence all had and discontented,
That by her meanes Ferraw his will had got,
That she (with this vnlookt for hap preuented)
Left him the helmet, though she meant it not,
And in her heart her act she sore repented,
And with her selfe she laid alas God wot,
I silly foole tooke it with good intention,
Thereby to breake their strife and sharp contention.
Not that thereby this filthy Spaniard might
By helpe of my deceit and doing wrong,
Keepe that by fraud he could not win by might,
Alas to thy true loue and seruice long,
A better recompence then this or right,
From me (my good Orlando) should belong:
And thus in this most kind and dolefull fashion,
She doth continue long her lamentation.
Now meaneth she to trauell to the East,
Vnto her natiue soile and country ground,
Her iourney doth her other griefes digest,
Her ring doth in her iourney keepe her found,
Yet chanced she, ere she forsooke the West,
To trauell neare a wood, whereas she found
A fine yong man betweene two dead men lying,
With wound in bleeding brest euen then a dying.
[...] shall come [...] her againe in [...] 19. booke, [...] staffee.
But here a while I cease of her to treate,
Or Sacrapant, or of the knight of Spaine,
First I must tell of many a hardy feate,
Before I can returne to them againe:
Orlandos actions I will now repeate,
That still endur'd such trauell and such paine,
Nor time it selfe, that sorrowes doth appease,
Could grant to this his griefe an end or case.
And first the noble Earle an headpeece bought,
By late ill fortune hauing lost his owne,
For temper or the strength he neuer sought,
So it did keepe him but from being knowne.
Now Phaebus charret had the daylight brought,
And hid the starres that late before were showne,
And faire Aurora was new risen when
Orlando met two bands of armed men.
One band was led by worthy Manilard,
A man though stout, yet hoary haird for age,
Who with his men did make to Paris ward,
He not for warre, but fit for counsell sage:
Alsyrdo of the other had the guard,
Then in the prime and chiefe floure of his age,
And one that passed all the Turkish warriers,
To fight at tilt, at turney or at barriers.
These men with other of the Pagan host,
Had layne the winter past not far fro thence,
When Agramant did see his men were lost,
By vaine assaults vnto his great expence,
And therefore now he sweares and maketh bost,
That he will neuer raise his siege fro thence,
Till they within that now had left the field,
Were forst by famine all their goods to yeeld.
And for that cause, now sommer comes againe,
He gets together all the men he may,
With new supplies of Affrike and of Spaine,
And some of France that did accept his pay,
But that in order due they may remaine,
He points them all to meet him in one day,
Who by commandment hither came in clusters,
To make appearance at the pointed musters.
Now when Alsyrdo saw Orlando there,
Inflamd with pride end glory of his mind,
He longed straight with him to breake a speare,
And spurs his horse, but quickly he doth find
Himselfe too weake so sturdy blowes to beare,
And wisheth now that he had staid behind,
He falleth from the horses back downe dead,
The fearfull horse without his master fled.
Straight there was raisd a mightie cry and shout,
By all the souldiers of Alsyrdos band,
When as they see their captaine (late so stout)
Throwne downe and killed by Orlandos hand:
Then out of ray they compast him about
On eu'ry side in number as the sand,
They that are nie, with blowes do him assaile,
And those aloose throw darts as thicke as haile.
Looke what a noise an herd of sauage swine
Do make when as the wolse a pig hath caught,
That doth in all their hearings cry and whine,
They flocke about as nature hath them taught:
So do these souldiers murmure and repine,
To see their captaine thus to mischiefe brought,
And with great fury they do set vpon him,
All with one voice, still crying, on him, on him.
I say the nearer fight with sword and speare,
And those aloose send shafts and many a dart,
But he that neuer yet admitted feare
To lodge in any harbour of his hart,
Vpon his shield a thousand darts doth beare,
And thousands more on euery other part,
Yet of them all makes no more care nor keepe,
Then doth a Lion of a flocke of sheepe.
For when at once his fatall blade he drew,
That blade so often bathd in Pagans blood,
No steele there was of temper old or new,
Nor folded cloths the edge thereof withstood,
About the field, heads, legs, armes, shoulders flew,
The surrowes all did flow with crimson flood,
Death goeth about the field reioycing mickle,
To see a sword that so surpast his sickle.
This made the Pagan rout so sore agast,
He that could swiftest runne was best apaid,
And as they came, so fled they now as fast,
One brother for another neuer staid:
No memory of loue or friendship past,
Could make one stay to giue another aid,
He that could gallop fastest was most glad,
Not asking if the wayes were good or bad.
Onely one man there was in all the field,
That had so long in vertues schoole bin bred,
That rather then to turne his backe or yeeld,
He meaneth there to leaue his carkas dead:
Old Manylard, who taking vp his sheeld,
Euen as his valiant heart and courage led,
Sets spurs to horse, and in his rest a lance,
And runs against the Palladin of France.
Vpon Orlandos shield his speare he brake,
Who neuer stird for all the manly blow,
But with his naked sword againe he strake,
And made him tumble ore the saddle bow:
Fortune on vertue did some pitie take,
For why, Orlandos sword fell flatling tho,
That though it quite amazd and ouerthrew him,
Yet by good hap it maimd him not nor flew him.
With great confusion all the other fled,
And now of armed men the field was voyd,
Saue such as were or seemed to be dead,
So as Orlando now no more annoyd,
Went on his iourney as his fancie led,
To seeke herin whose fight he onely ioyd,
Through plains and woods, through sandy ways and miry,
He trauels making still of her enquiry.
Vntill it was his fortune toward night
Here you should begin [...] read the [...]ale of [...].
To come fast by a mountaine in whose side
Forth of a caue he saw a glims of light,
And towards it he presently doth ride:
Then at the mouth thereof he doth alight,
And to a bush fast by his horse he tide,
He doubts, as euer loue is full of feare,
That his belou'd Angelica was there.
Eu'n as the hunters that desirous are,
Some present pastime for their hounds to see,
In stubble fields do seeke the fearfull hare,
By eu'ry bush, and vnder eu'ry tree:
So he with like desire and greater care,
Seeks her that sole of sorrow can him free,
He enters boldly in the hollow caue,
And thinks of her some tidings there to haue.
The entrance straight and narrow was to passe,
Descending steps into a place prosound,
Whereas a certaine faire yong Ladie was,
Kept by some outlawes prisner vnder ground,
Her beautie did the common sort surpasse,
So farre as scant her match was to be found,
So as that darke and solitary den,
Might seeme to be a paradise as then.
On her an aged woman there did wait,
The which (as oft with women doth befall)
This old [...] was Gabr [...] whom you [...] but a bad [...] the xxi book [...].
About some matter of but little waight,
Did happen at that time to chide and brall,
But when they saw a stranger comming, straight
They held their peaces, and were quiet all,
Orlando doth salute them with good grace,
And they do bid him welcome to the place.
Then after common words of salutation,
Although at first of him they were afraid,
Yet straight he enterd in examination,
By whom in that same caue they had bin stai [...]
And who they were in so vnseemly fashion,
That kept a comely and a noble maid?
And said, he saw it written in her face,
Her nurture and her linage were not base.
She told him straight how long she there had beene,
And by what hap she had bin thither brought,
Amid her words the sighs do passe betweene,
The corall and the pearle by nature wrought,
Sweet teares vpon her tender cheeks were seene,
That came from fountaine of her bitter thought:
But soft, left I should do the Reader wrong,
I end this booke, that else would be too long.

Moral.In that Angelica would haue chosen Sacrapant before Orlando, we may note how women for the most part in their choose follow rather some priuat respect, then the true worth of the men that offer themselues at their deuotion. In th [...] soe took away the helmet, with purpose to make sport with it, though at last Orlando by that means lost it against her wil, we may see that things done in list, oft turne to earnest: and therfore that excellent rule of ciuilitie is euermore to be kept:

Play with me and hurt me not,
Ieft with me and shan [...] me not.

Historie.In the quarrell betweene Orlando and Ferraw, we may see the common originall of all quarrels, namely honour and women. Of Ferraw I spake in the first booke of his strength and stature, but whether it be true, or might be true, that his body should be made impenetrable by sorcery and witchcraft, I can neither assume it was so, nor maintaine that it could possible be so, yet I know some that beleeue the contrary, and (as they thinke) vpon good grounds: and some say it is a great practise in Ireland to charme girdles, and the like, persuading men that while they weare them they cannot be hurt with any weapon and who can tell whether the diuel may not sometime protect some of his seruants? but one notable ex­ample I haue heard tending much to this effect: Rorie Oge (a notable rebell of Ireland) hauing taken in a vile and tre­cherous Parlee, my valiant cosin sir Henrie Harington prisoner, had one night his caben or little houell where he lay beset with one hundred souldiers of the said sir Henrie his band, meaning to rescue their captaine by force, sith the rebels demaunds for his deliuery were such as sir Henrie himselfe (being his prisoner) would not condescend vnto, but would rather hazard his life as he knew he should: I say these hundred men wel appointed, be set the house strongly, being made of nothing but hardels and durt, yet the villain ere they could get in, gat vpin his shirt, and gaue the knight xiiij. wounds very deadly, and after gat through them all without hurt, where a mouse almost could not haue got betweene them: and I haue heard it affirmed in Ireland, that it was with meere witchcraft.

Allegorie.In the pallace, where euery one hath that he liketh best presented vnto him, yet no man can enioy it, is to be vnderstood that he that followes his owne vaine desires without the rule of reason, shal euer run astray, and neuer attaine to the true contentment he desires.

Allusion.In Orlando and Ferraw, he alludes to the fight of Cygnus and Achilles, who were both in like sort fained to haue bin inusolable.



Orlando heares Zerbynos loue to tell,
Her strange misfortune and her hard aduenter:
These outlawes that in that vast caue did dwell,
Orlando hang'd, that had in prison pent her.
Bradamant though Melissa did her tell
Atlanta frauds, yet doth his Pallace enter,
Where she is staid by force of Atlants charmes,
While Agramant musters his men of armes.
FVll ventrous were the no­ble knights of old,
And worthy that their same should ay endure,
That durst with valiant heart, and courage bold
Find cut in dens and pla­ces all obscure,
Such as in courts we now but seeld behold,
Faire dames, of beautie, mind and manners pure:
As erst I told you how Orlando found,
A braue young Ladie hidden vnder ground.
Now in my former matter to proceed,
I say when he had vewd her person well,
And markt her face and hauiour with great heed,
He doth request the damsell faire to tell,
Who was the author of so soule a deed,
To force her in so vnfit place to dwell:
And the as plaine and briefly as she can,
In this sweet sort her wofull speech began.
Most worthy knight (she said) although I know,
That I shall buy my speech to you full deare,
(For sure I am, this woman here will show,
My words to him that first did place me heare)
Truth I will tell, though truth increase my woe,
And make him looke on me with angrie cheares
Dispaire hath euer danger all contemned,
What should she feare that is eu'n now condemned?
I am that Fabel that somtime was,
A daughter deare vnto the king of Spaine,
Well did I say I was, for now alas,
I am the child of anguish and and of paine:
Loue, onely loue, this great change brought to passe,
Loue, onely loue, of thee I may complaine,
That flattring alwaies in thy first beginnings,
Yeeld'st certaine losse in steed of hoped winnings.
Then in good state I spent my happie dayes,
Noble and young, honest and rich, and faire,
Now base, despised, poore, and wanting prayes:
Drownd in a dungeon of most deepe dispaire,
Thus loue throws downe, whom fortune hie doth raise
And marrs the sport in which he is a plaire:
He that in art of loue did show his skill,
Ouid. Sentence.
Saith loue and maiestie agrees but ill.
But that I plainly may declare my mind,
Thus it fell out: my father twelue months since,
To make a famous triumph had assig nd,
Vnto the which came many a Lord and Prince:
Now whether liking did mine eies so blind,
Or that his vertue did it selfe conuince:
Zerbin (me thought) the king of Scotlands sonne,
In this same triumph honor chiefe had wonne.
The passing feates of armes I saw him do,
In which he was compared with the best,
His person and his beautie ioynd thereto,
Gratius [...] chro [...] corport [...]
In which he far surpassed all the rest,
Did cause that heno sooner did me woe,
But I as quickly granted his request:
Interpreters nor other means none wanted,
To make the seeds to grow that loue had planted.
When as these feasts and solemne shewes were ended,
My Zerbin backe againe to Scotland hasted,
Wherewith how grieuously I was offended,
Well may you guesse if euer loue you tasted:
But he that cannot be too much commended,
Whose loue to me no lesse in absence lasted,
With purpose and with promise firme to marry me,
Studed all meanes away from hence to carry me.
Twere vaine he thought to aske me of my fire,
(Zerbin a Christen, I a Sarazine)
Our country law contrarid that desire,
To which our loues so wholy did encline:
This feat doth some new stratagem require,
More heedfull, secret, circumspect and fine:
When loue hath knit two hearts in persite vnitie,
[...]ntence. Ouid. [...] car [...]t effectu [...] voluere duo [...] Philip Sid­ [...] made it thus: [...] why no selo­ [...] can that pre­ [...]nt, to which [...] parties once [...] full consent.
They seldome faile to find their oportunitie.
An house of great estate in Bayon towne,
My father had with gardens sweet and faire,
In which with large descents still going downe
Vnto a riuer comes the garden staire,
Here (if ill fortune on vs do not frowne)
He meanes when I shall walke to take the aire,
Soone to surprise me walking in an ally,
And so conuey me to his armed gally.
But sith with him the case did then so stand,
Not to be present at this enterprise,
He sent me letters written with his hand,
By Oderike of Byskie stout and wise,
Expert in seruice both of sea and land,
And wils me do as he should me aduise,
Whose faith he nothing doubteth to be found,
As one to him by benefits much bound.
This firme and fast, and sure obliged frend,
Of proued courage, value and of skill,
Against the time appointed he doth send:
And I that for their comming looked still,
Against the time appointed did descend,
To giue him scope to worke his masters will,
And he accordingly came vnespide,
With armed men vnder the garden side.
I seeing them, my selfe most fearfull saine,
They seeing me, soone of their purpose sped,
Those that resistance made, forthwith were slaine,
And some afraid and faint like cowards fled,
The rest with me as prisners do remaine;
Then straight we were vnto the gally led,
And gone so farre we could not be recouered,
Before my father had the fact discouered.
Of this departure I my selfe was glad,
In hope ere long my Zerbin to haue found,
But lo a sodaine tempest made vs sad,
And neare to Rochell almost had vs dround,
The master of the ship no cunning had,
To keepe the keele from striking on the ground:
It booted not against the waues to striue,
Vpon sharpe rockes the tempest doth vs driue.
In vaine it was to pull downe all our sailes,
And on the foreboord close to couch the mast,
No paine against the raging sea preuailes,
On land we looke each minute to be cast:
Diuine helpe oft doth come, when humane failes,
And when in reason all releese is past:
For doubtlesse I do deeme by powre diuine,
We were preserued in this dang'rous time.
The Byskin that the danger well doth note,
Doth meane a desprate remedy to trie,
He straightway launcheth out the little bote,
He and two more go downe therein and I,
This done, he cuts the rope and lets her flore,
Threatning with naked sword that he should die,
That durst presume to giue so bold aduenter,
Against our wils into the bote to enter.
The rope now cut, away the bote was carried
By force of waues vnto the shallow shore,
And by geat fortune none of vs miscarried,
So great a plunge I neuer scapt before,
But they (poore soules) that in the gally tarried,
Were drownd, the vessell quite in peeces tore,
Where though my losse of stuffe and iewels greeu'd me,
My hope to see my Zerbin still releeu'd me.
Now being come to land (in lucklesse houre)
And trusting onely Oderikes direction,
Loue (that doth euer loue to shew his power,
In tempring and distempring our affection)
My good to ill, my sweet doth turne to sower,
My hope to hurt, my health into infection:
He in whose trust Zerbin so much relieth,
Freezeth in faith, and in new fancie frieth.
Now whether first at sea this humor grew,
Or else he moued was with new occasion,
To haue me here alone with so small crew.
As from his will I could not make euasion,
He bids all faith and honestie adew,
And yeelds himselfe vnto this foule perswasion;
And that he may his pleasure surely warrant,
He sends the seruants of a sleeuelelle arrant.
Two men there were that had so luckie lot,
With vs into the shipbote to descend,
One hight Almonio, by birth a Scot,
A valiant man, and Zerbius trustie frend,
Odrike tels him that it beseemed not,
So few vpon a Princesse to attend,
And that the daughter of the King of Spaine,
Should go on foote and with so small a traine.
Wherefore he wisheth him to go before
To Rochell, there a palfrey to prouide,
And hire some men, a dozen or a score,
Me to my lodging mannerly to guide:
Almonio went, then was there left no more,
But Coreb, one of wit and courage tride,
In whom the Byskin put the more affiance,
Because that he was one of his alliance.
Yet long he seemd in doubtfull mind to houer,
Faine if he could he would haue rid him thence,
At last he thinks so fast a friend and louer,
Will with his friends iniquitie dispence:
Wherefore he doth to him his mind discouer,
In hope that he would further his offence,
And do as friends in our dayes haue a fashion,
Aduance their pleasure more then reputation.
But he whose honest mind could not suppose,
That Oderike had had so little grace,
The fact not onely threatens to disclose,
But cals him false and traitor to his face:
From bitter words vnto more bitter bloes,
They came and fought together in the place,
And [...] in this prospect no whit delighting,
Fled to the wood while they two were a fighting.
Betweene them two the combat was not long,
But [...]o the worser cause the better sped,
Whether he were more skilfull or more strong,
O [...]rike doth lay Corebo there for dead:
That done, he runs the woods and seme among,
Oud M [...]temer. [...]
And followes fast the way that I had fled,
I thinke that he god Cupids wings did borrow,
He made such hast to hasten on my sorrow.
His [...] [...]umors.
Feare made me swift, for sore I was afraid,
Loue made him twister runne to ouertake me,
Then sore against my will my courie he staid,
Then sundrily both foule and faire he spake me,
Sometime he promised sometime he praid,
Oust de [...].
Sometime he threatned he by force would make me:
With [...], with gifts, with threats he oft did proue me,
With [...]at, with gifts, with threats he nought did moue me
But when he could not with his words preuaile,
He doth resolue no farther time to stay,
With open force he then did me assaile,
As doth a hungry Beare cease on his pray,
And I de ended me with tooth and naile,
And cries and skreeks, and all the wayes I may,
Not was I in mine owne defence afeard.
To scratch his eyes, and pull away his beard.
I know not if it were my skreech and crie,
That might haue well bin heard a league and more,
Or if it were their vse that dwell there by,
To come to seeke some shipwracks on the shore,
But straight vpon the hill we might descrie,
Come toward vs of companie good store,
Which makes my Byskie man away to runne,
And to surcease his enterprise begunne.
Thus this vnlookt for crew preseru'd me then,
And hinderd him of his vmust desire:
But I was sau'd as is the flounder when
He leapeth from the dish into the fire.
For though these barbarous and sauage men,
To touch my person did not once aspire,
No vertuous thought did breed this moderation,
But hope of gaine and greedie inclination.
The leader of this miserable band,
Did thinke his market will be raised much,
In selling me, when men shall vnderstand,
He sels a maid whom none did euer tuch,
And now I heare a merchant is in hand,
Of him to buy me if his lucke be such,
From whom into the East I shall be sent,
Where to the Souldan they will me present.
And in this sort her wofull tale she told,
And mingled sighes with teares in rufull fashion,
Expressed with such dolefull words as would
Haue mou'd a stonie heart to take compassion:
It easd in part her mind, thus to vnfold
The bitter cause of her vnpleasant passion.
Now while Orlando to this tale attended,
The crew of caitiues to the caue descended.
A barbarous and foule misshapen crew,
Armed, one with a spit, one with a prong,
Mouthes, eyes and face, most vgly were to vew,
One had no nose, anothers was too long,
But when their leader somewhat nearer drew,
And saw Orlando standing there among,
Turning to his companion, he said,
Lo here a bird for whom no net we laid.
Then to the Earle he said, I am right glad
To find one so well armed in my caue,
For long for such an armor longd I had,
And surely now this I suppose to haue:
How thinke you, when my person shall be clad
With this your coate, shall I not then be braue?
Wherefore good sir, think not your welcome scant,
That come so fitly to supply my want.
Orlando turning with a sower smile,
Answerd, his armor was of price too hie,
And that he greatly did himselfe beguile,
That thought of him his armor there to buy:
And as they nearer came, he stoopt the while,
And tooke a brand that in the fire did lie,
And straight he threw it at the caitiues head,
And laid him there along the floore for dead.
A short thicke planke stood on a scrubby post,
That seru'd them for a boord to drinke and eate,
And (for the same full heauy was and great)
This like a coight at them Orlando tost,
It fell downe there among them to their cost,
They neuer saw before so strange a feat:
By which scarce one of them escaped harme,
In head, in leg, in brest, in side or arme.
So shall you see a country man that takes
In time of spring a brickbat or a stone,
And throwes the same vpon a knot of snakes,
That he together clusterd all in one,
How great a spoile the stone among them makes,
And those that scape, how quickly they be gone:
So did Orlando with these pesants play,
That glad were they that scapt to runne away.
Those that could scape the heauie tables fall,
Vnto their feete commended their defence,
Which were (as Turpin writes) but seuen in all,
Which seuen were glad to runne away from thence:
But yet their flying brought them helpe but small,
Orlando meanes to punish their offence,
Their feete, nor yet their fence, could them so gard,
But that he brought them to the hanging ward.
Now when the foresaid aged woman saw,
In how bad sort these trends of hers were serued,
She was affeard, for well she knew by law,
That no lesse punishment she had deserued,
This veriuous woman is spoken of againe in the 20 Canto aloue the 60. staffe.
Forthwith from thence she stale away for aw,
And vp and downe the desert wood she swarued,
Vntill at last a warrior stout her met,
But who it was I may not tell as yet.
The tender damsell doth Orlando pray,
Her chastitie and honour to protect,
Who made her go with him, and from that day,
In the 23 booke. Staff. 45.
Had vnto her a fatherly respect:
Now as they went, a prisner by the way,
They saw, whose name I may not now detect:
Now should I speake of Bradamant by right,
Whom erst I left in such a dolefull plight.
The valorous Lady looking long in vaine,
When her Rogero would to her returne,
Lay in Marsilia to the Pagans paine,
Where eu'ry day she did them some shrowd turne,
For some of them in Prouence did remaine,
And Languedock where they did spoile and burne,
Till with her valew she did them rebuke,
Supplying place of captaine and of duke.
Now on a day as she sat still and mused,
The time of his appointment long expired,
Doubting left she by him might be abused,
Or that her companie he not desired,
And often whom she blamd, she straight excused,
Thus while with carefull thought her selfe she tired,
Melissa whom she thought not to be neare her,
Came suddenly of purpose for to cheare her.
With pleasant countenance Melissa sage,
Much like to those that carrie welcome newes,
Wils her, her causelesse sorrow to asswage,
And good Rogeros absence doth excuse,
Swearing that she durst lay her life to gage,
He would not absent be, if he might chuse,
And that he did now in his promise hault,
Was not by his but by anothers fault.
Wherefore (quoth she) get you to horsebacke straight
If you would set your faithfull louer free,
And I my selfe intend on you to wait,
Till you his prison with your eye shall see,
Whereas Atlanta, with a strange deceit
Detaineth men, of base and hie degree,
And showes by strange illusion distrest,
Each one the partie whom he loueth best.
Each one doth deeme he sees in great distresse,
His loue, his frend, his fellow or his page,
According as mens reasons more or lesse,
Are weake or strong such passion to asswage,
Thus do they follow this their foolish guesse,
Vntill they come like birds into a cage,
Searching the pallace with a pensiue hart,
The great desire not suffering them to part,
Now then (said she) when you shall once draw nye,
Where this same Necromancer strange doth dwell,
He will your coming and the cause descrye,
And to delude you (marke me what I tell)
He straight will offer there vnto your eye,
By helpe of some inhabitants of hell,
Rogeros person, all in wofull plight,
As though he had beene conquered in fight.
And if you follow, thinking him to ayd,
Then will he stay you as he doth the rest,
But kill him therefore and be not affraid,
For so you shall your frend deliuer best,
So shall your foe Atlanta be betrayd,
In his owne trap when as he looketh left,
And feare not when he commeth by to strike him,
Though he your deare resemble, and looke like him
I know full well how hard twill be to trye,
And how your heart wil faile, and hand wil tremble
When you shall go about to make one dye,
That shall Rogeros shape so right resemble:
But in this case you may not trust your eye,
But all your sprites, and forces all assemble,
For this assure you, if you let him go,
You worke your owne and your Rogeros wo.
The Prouerbe faith, one that is warn'd is armd,
The which old saw,
Sentence or Pro­uerbe.
doth proue by due construction,
That they, that after warning had are harmd,
Did ill regard or follow good instruction,
Now Bradamant rides to the place so charmd,
And vowd that old Magicians destruction,
And that they may the tedious way beguile,
They spend the time in pleasant talke the while.
And oft Melissa doth to her repeat
The names of those that should be her posteritie,
That should in force, and deeds of armes be great,
But greater in Religion and sinceritie,
Atchiuing many a strange and worthy feat.
And vse both head, and hand, with great dexteritie,
In ruling iust, and bountifull in giuing,
Cesars in fight, and saints in godly liuing.
Now when Melissa sage such things did show,
The noble Lady modestly replide,
Sith God (quoth she) doth giue you skill to know,
The things that shall in future times betide,
And meanes on me (vnworthy) to bestow
An issue such as few shall haue beside,
Tell me among so many men of name,
Shall there no woman be of worthy fame?
Yes many a one (said she) both chast and wife,
Mothers to such as beare imperiall crownes,
Pillars and staves of roiall families,
Owners of realmes, of countries and of townes,
Out of thy blessed offpring must arise,
Such as shalbe eu'n in their sober gownes,
For chastitie and modestie as glorious,
As shall their husbands be in warre victorious.
Nor can I well, or do I now intend,
To take vpon me all their names to tell,
For then my speech would neuer haue an end,
I finde so many that deserue so well,
Onely I meane a word or two to spend,
Of one or two that do the rest excell:
Had you but talkt hereof in Merlins caue,
For there she [...] as the men [...] was [...]. 3.
You should haue seen the shapes that they shal haue.
Shall I begin with her whose vertue rare
Shall with her husband liue in happie strife,
Whether his valiant actions may compare,
Or be preferd before her honest life?
He fights abroad against king Charles at Tare,
She staid at home a chast and sober wife:
Penelope in spending chast her dayes,
Sent [...].
As worthie as Vlysses was of praise.
Then next dame Beatrice the wife sometime
Of [...]dwickeSforze, surnamed eke the More;
Wise and discreet, and knowne without all crime,
Of fortunes gifts and natures hauing store:
Her husband liu'd most happie all her time,
And in such state as few haue liu'd before:
But after fell from being Duke of Millen,
To be a captiue fetterd like a villen.
To passe the famous house I should be sorie,
He cals bar [...] be [...] kings daughter.
Of Aragon, and that most worthie queene,
Whose match in neither greeke nor latine storie,
Or any writer else hath euer beene:
And full to perfite her most worthy glorie,
Three worthie children shall of her be seene,
Of whom the heauens haue pointed her the mother,
Istell by name, Alfonso and his brother.
As siluer is to tinne, as gold to brasse,
As roses are to flowres and herbs more base,
As diamonds and rubyes are to glasse,
As cedars are to sallows: in like case
Shall famous Leonora others passe,
In vertue, beautie, modestie and grace:
But aboue all, in this she shall excell,
In bringing vp her children passing well.
So [...]ule.
For as the vesseil euer beares a tast,
Of that same iuyce wherwith it first was filled,
So [...]ule.
And as in fruitfull ground the seed growes fast,
That first is sowne when as the same is tilled:
So looke what lore in youthfull yeares is plast,
By that they grow the worse or better willed,
When as they come to manly age and stature,
Sith education is another nature.
Then next her neece, a faire and famous dame,
That hight Renata I may not forget,
Daughter to Lews the xij. king of that name,
Whom of the Britten Dutches he did get:
Whose vertue great shall merite lasting fame,
While fier shalbe warme and water wet,
While wind shall blow, & earth stand firm & sound,
And heau'nly sphears shall run their courses round.
I passe all those that passe all these some deale,
Whose soules aspiring to an higher praise,
Despising pompe and ease, and worldly weale,
In sacred rytes shall spend their blessed dayes:
Whose hearts and holy loue and godly zeale,
To heau'nly ioyes, from earthly thoughts shall raise,
That to good workes, to prayre and pure diuinitie,
Shall consecrate their liues and their virginitie.
Thus doth Melyssa vnto her discourse,
Of those should come hereafter of her seed,
And while they talked oft by entercourse,
They in their iourney onward do proceed,
And oftentimes Melyssa hath recourse,
To will her of Atlanta take great heed,
And least she should with faint and foolish kindnes,
Be led vnwares in error and in blindnes.
Now when they neare approched to the place,
Then Bradamant departed from her guide,
And after she had rode a little space,
She saw one brought with hands togither tide,
Exceeding like Rogero in the face,
In voice, in stature, haire and all beside:
Bound fast with chaines betweene two gyants led,
That threttend him er long he should be ded.
But when the damsell saw within her vew,
The lamentable state and hard condicion,
Of him whose face she certaine thought she knew,
She changeth straight her trust into suspicion,
Doubting Melyssa of some malice new,
Or hidden hate had giu'n her such commission,
To make Rogero for a greater spite,
Be slaine by her in whom he doth delight.
Is not this he (thus to her selfe she spake)
Whom stil mine heart and now mine eies do see?
If my Rogero I can so mistake,
I neuer shall haue knowledge which is he:
I either dreame and am not now awake,
Or else no doubt it can none other be,
Melyssa? what, may not Melyssa lye?
Shall I beleeue her tale, and not mine eye?
Now while that thus she thought, and thus she said,
And in this vnwise doubt did thus perseuer:
She thought she heard him speake and aske for aid,
Saying (my loue) assist me now or neuer;
What shall I in thy fight be so betraid?
Doest thou forsake me? then farewell for euer:
These vnkind words her heart so greatly daunted,
She followes him into the house inchaunted.
No sooner was she enterd in the gate,
But that the common error her possest,
Wandring about the house betimes and late,
Nor night nor day she taketh any rest;
The strange inchantment brought her in that state,
That though she saw the man that lou'd her best,
And spake with him, and met him eu'rie howre,
To know the tone the tother had no powre.
[...]book. [...]ass. 18
But let not now the reader be displeased,
Although I leaue her in this charmed place,
I, meane er long her trauell shall be eased,
And she shall see and know Rogeros face.
Eu'n as the tast with diuers meats is pleased,
So thinke I by this storie in like case,
The frendly reader shall be lesse annoyed,
If with one matter long he be not cloyed.
With sundrie threds a man had need to weaue,
To make so large a web as I intend,
Wherfore all other matters I must leaue,
Of Agramant a little time to spend:
Who sorely at the flour deluce did heaue,
And all his might to mar the same did bend,
Sending for men to Affricke and to Spaine,
Those to supply that in the field were slaine.
Thus all on war his heart was wholly fixt,
His new supplies with sundrie captaines led,
Were come, with men of sundrie nations mixt,
With whom that no disorder may be bred,
A day forvews and musters was prefixt,
That eu'rie one might know his guide and hed,
Then fell they to their mustring and their vewing,
As shall be shewd you in the booke ensuing.

In this tragicall discourse of Isabella (for it is in conclusion an excellent tragedie) young Ladies might take this good lesson,Moral that though they make choise of most worthie men (as Isabella did) yet if it be without their parents good will, it seldome prospers, but is full of diuers misaduentures and hazards, that many times be the cause of their vtter ruine. In that Oderike giueth place to his disordinate lust, forgetting all faith and loyalty, we may note the frailtie of young men, and what vnfit tutors they are for such charges, who when they haue broken all the bands of faith and honestie, they think notwithstading they haue made a sufficient excuse for the matter, if they may lay the fault vpō (sauing your reuerence) Cupid In Corebo, that would not be wonne to consent to his frends desire in so foule a matter, we may take good exam­ple of faith and loyaltie, that must neither for frendship nor kindred yeeld to any dishonorable act. In the execution of the theeues we may learne, that such an end is fit for men that liue by robberie and spoile, and will take no honest tra­uell for their liuing, as fit (to vse the old Prouerbe) as a rope is for a theese,

The notable women that are so commended by Melissa in this booke,Historie. were of the house of Ferrara, & many of them wor­thie this exquisite praise that is here giuen them. The first he speakes of is the Duchesse of Mantua, whose husband had a great victorie at Tare a riuer of Italie, against Charles the right of France. Ariosto therefore compares her chastitie with this victorie, according to that excellent wise saying, it is a greater vertue to conquer ones owne affections then to win cities.

Beatrice wife to Lodwick Sforze of whom in the three and thirtith booke there is more said, only here he notes (which was true indeed) that during his wiues life he liued more happy then he did after: for at her death began his miserie

Hercules of Este married Alfonsos daughter, of whom he had Alfonso Hippolito and Isabella.

Concerning Renata, Lewis the xij. king of France maried the Duchesse of Brittaine, and had by her issue this Renata, one of whose ofspring was after matched into the house of Austria, so as that Dukedome is in great danger to be gotten by the Spaniards, now that line of France that came of the elder sister is extinguished. But this is beside the booke, onely I thought good to touch the particular stocke of some of these famous women, that my Author so much extolleth: as I haue my selfe read of some of them in Guicciardin and Frances Vlloa that wrote the life of Charles the fist in Italian: and this I will note withall, that my author doth with great discretion commend three speciall vertues in the women of the house of Este. First deuotion, for he alledgeth that many of them entred into religion, and liued all their time denoutly, which he praiseth chiefly, though in the last place, saying. I passe all those that passe all these some deall. Next cha­stitie. Penelope in spending chast her dayes, as worthie as Vlysses was of praise. Thirdly education of children, as is likewise touched before in another place.

The vertues that in women merit praise,
Are sober showes without, chast thoughts within.
True faith and due obèdience to their make,
And of their children honest care to take.

Bradamant, that after Melissas warning giuen vnto her of Atlantas illusion,Allegorie. yet is caried away with the sight of Rogero falsly represented vnto her: signifies by allegorie, that a Christian, hauing receiued ghostly counsell for the health of his soule, and is instructed in true beliefe, yet after, when the world and his owne grosse sence represents vnto him some contrarie imaginations, he thinkes Melissa (that is, the preacher or instructer) doth but abuse him, and tell him a tale of Robinhood, and so they are caried into the diuels pallace, where they find nothing but shadows and illusions.

Where Orlando takes vp a firebrand, and killed one of the outlaws therwith,Allusion. it alludes to two like matters in Oui.

Ecce rapit medijs slagrantem Rhetus ab aris,
12. Met.
Primitium torrem dextraque a parte Charaxi,
Tempora perfringit.— And in the xij. of Virgil.
Obuius ambustum torrem Corineus ab ara
Corripit, & venienti ebuso plagam [...]que ferenti,
Occupat os flammis. Illi ingens barba reluxit
Nidoremque ambusta dedit.—


Agramant mustring of his men, doth misse
Two bands that by Orlando late were slaine:
Mandricard vowes to be reuengd of this,
But by the way he haps to entertaine
Dame Doralice, whose beautie was his blisse.
An Angell brings Renaldo and his traine
Vnseene there where the Pagan did encampe,
And sendéth discord to the Turkish campe.
AMong the fierce assaults, and cruell bloes,
That France hath felt from
Affrick and from Spaine,
In which so many men fed
Wolues and Croes,
That were on both sides in the battell slaine,
Although the French were foiled by their foes,
[...]n the 1. booke is [...]s mentioned how Charlemaine left [...]he field at Bur­ [...]els, since w [...]ch [...]me they kept [...]bet went and [...] not come to [...] battell. This Alfonso was Duke of Ferrara [...] whō he speakes [...]n the 3. book, bro­ [...]her to Hipolyto. Of this battell [...]k Guicciard [...]n
That long they came not to the field againe,
Yet was this foile sore to the Pagans cost,
For diuers Lords and Princes that they lost.
So bloudie was the victorie they gate,
That scant this ioy did counte [...]uaile that wo,
And if we may compare things done or late,
(Renownd Alfons) to things done long ago,
Rauennas fall by fortune or by fate,
In which your vertue great did flourish so,
To win the
field so bloudy and so hard,
With this of theirs may iustly be compard.
For when the souldiers of the Spanish band,
Whom then the Pope retained in his pay,
By the honour of [...]lded spurre and [...] understood [...]ighthood. Pope [...] gaue [...] armes the [...] with [...]ak [...]nes of gold.
Had almost got the victory in hand,
The Frenchmen ready now to runne away,
Thou camst to succor with that noble band
Of valiant youths, that merited that day
The honor of the gilded spurre and hilt,
In recompence of blood so brauely spilt.
So didst thou bruse the
The king of A. [...]gōs colars was [...]llow and red.
Akorns rich of gold,
So didst thou breake the [...] yellow staffe and red,
So didst thou then the Flowre de luce vphold,
When as the captaine was in battel dead,
The laurel by the ancient Romans was giuen to him that had slaine or takē aboue 5000 in battell. Ciuica corona was his that sa­ued a citizen of Rome.
For which the Laurell crowne they ware of old,
By iust desert belongeth to thy head;
And Ciuill crowne, no lesse in honor precious,
For sauing vnto Rome her owne Fabricius.
Colonna nam'd a collum true indeed,
Vnto the state of Rome and Romane name,
Whom you by value tooke, and sau'd by meed,
By which more honor true and worthy fame,
Vnto your selfe you did procure and breed:
Then in the ouercomming all that came,
In this battel the Spaniards deus­sed to haue men placed in carts, & drauing them violently on their enemies, disorde­red them.
Fom Aragon, from Castill and Nauar,
For all their speares and new deuised car.
Now though we all our liues and safeties ow,
To you that this great conquest did atchieue,
Yet our side did receiue so great a blow,
As scarce that ioy this sorrow did relieue:
And that the dames of France most plainly show,
Whom this so bloudie triumph still doth grieue,
Witnesse their widdows in their mourning gownes,
And watry eyes in villages and townes.
King Lews of France had need in time prepare,
Foys was slaine as this battell.
For captains new to these vnruly bands,
That wickedly without all feare or care,
Of lawes of God, of nature, or of lands,
No sort, nor sex, nor age, nor order spare,
From force of their vnchast and bloudie hands.
Christs bodie in the sacrament they tare it,
To beare away the siluer plate that bare it.
Gu [...]din sets downe the [...] or­ders of the soul­diors at the sack of Ra [...]en [...]a.
Wretched Rauenna better had it beene,
That thou the French shouldst not at all resist,
Thou mightst by Bresey haue bene warnd I weene,
Now thou a warning art for such as list,
To shun like losse by thy mishaps foreseene,
Not stubburnly in folly to persist;
So Riminy and Faens were preserued,
By marking in what sort thou hadst bene serued.
As now king Lews (I say) had need to send
New captains to supply their roomes were dead,
So then the Pagan Princes did intend
To see their men from sundry countries led,
And all disorders and defects to mend,
To point them captains that do lacke a head;
First then Marsilio all his souldiers veweth,
And Agramant next after him enseweth.
The states of Spaine are here set down in [...] [...]stars.
The chiefe of those are of Marsilios traine,
Are first the Catalins, men of great land,
And of the best and noblest blood of Spaine:
The next that do to them in order stand,
Are of Nauar, whose King was lately slaine
At Burdels by Renaldos valiant hand,
Marsilio sore laments the sory case,
And pointeth Isolir supply his place.
If any be [...] [...]o vnderstand [...]se names. I refer him to the Table.
Bulligant gouerneth those of Lion,
Grandomus for th [...] Algarbys doth prouide,
Marsilios brother called Falsiron,
Doth those of lesser Castile rule and guide:
Those of Mallaga do attend vpon
Madrasso, so doth Ciuill all beside,
There where as Beus water so abounds,
As all about it makes them fruitfull grounds.
T [...]ssora, Bari [...]end and Stordilan,
Vnto the field do bring their forces in,
Granado this, Mai [...]rick he hath rane,
The first to rule in Lisbon doth begin.
Where Larbin late was brought vnto his bane,
Tessyra vnto Larbin next of kin,
Those of Gallicia Serpentine doth guide,
Since valiant Maricold in battell dide.
Those of Toledo and of Calatraue,
Whom Synagon did leade not long ago,
Now Matalist their gouernment must haue,
Because that he was slaine by Christen so:
Then Pisardin a man in battell braue,
With all the band of Salamance doth go,
With many other souldiers of Pagenza,
Of Auila, Zamorra and Palenza.
Those of the court and of Marsilios traine,
Ferra [...].
With those of Saragose, Ferraw doth guide,
The chiefest flowre, and the chiefe host of Spaine,
Well armd, well horst, well furnished beside,
With whom two kings that late had lost their raine,
Morgant and Malsatise did there abide,
And in the state of priuate men remained,
And were by him most friendly entertained.
The name of many a Duke, and Lord and Knight,
For breuitie I purpose to omit,
Such as were stout and hardie men in fight,
Such as were wise and politike in wit,
With th'Earle of Sagunt Archidant that hight,
Langiran, Ammirant and Malagit:
There was great Fulliron, Marsilios bastard,
That in that fight did shew himselfe no dastard.
After the Spanish hoast was viewd and past,
Agr [...]ts [...] ster of African Note that the word past. in vsed [...] there sundry [...]ces, downe in the Apologie.
Before king Agramant, the next that came,
Was one that all the rest in stature past,
The gouernor and king of great Orane,
Then came a band, whose leader small time past,
At Burdels field was brought vnto his bane,
Lamenting that the king of Garamant
Was conquerd by the Ladie Bradamant.
Then came the third, and that a headlesse crew,
Whose captaine Argust was in battell slaine,
To this the second and the fourth, a new
King Agramant doth leaders fresh ordaine.
But few there were that for these roomes did sew,
So few sufficient men there did remaine;
Buraldo and Argonio for the best,
And Ormida he chose among the rest.
Then came Brunello with a chearlesse face,
Brunt [...].
And looke for shame still fixed on the ground,
For late he fell in Agramants disgrace,
Who doubted that his faith had not bene sound,
Ere since he went vnto th'inchanted place,
Of this look be [...] in the beginning of the [...] [...].
Where to a tree dame Bradamant him bound,
Because he lost his ring, whose losse so greeued him,
That though he told him true, he not beleeued him.
But Isolir the brother of Ferraw,
That was the first that found him and vntide him,
Auoucht to Agramant the thing he saw,
How there by force some enemie had tide him,
So as the King his anger did withdraw,
Although he neuer after well could bide him,
But swore the next offence that he committed,
An halter should vnto his necke be fitted.
With those of Esperie came Soridano,
And D [...]ribon did come with those of set,
With those of Nasomanie Prusiano,
King Agricalt Amonios charge did get,
Malabusers came with them of Fisano,
The rest doth Pinadure in order set,
Ballastro those that followd erst Tardocco,
Those of Canaria and of Morocco.
From Mulga and Arsilla others came,
The first their former captaine still doth hold,
Vnto the next the King a new doth name,
One Corineus a trustie man and bold,
Then Baliuesse a man of euill fame,
Clarindo next of whom great deeds ar [...] old,
Sobr [...].
Sobrino next a man of elder age,
In all the campe was none more wise and sage.
Those of Getulia came with Rimedont.
With Maribaldo those of Bolga went,
And those of Cos [...]a came with Balnifront,
Their former Lord his life in battell spent:
Then came the king of Algier
[...]od [...]mont a [...] T [...]rze [...] [...] in the took [...] was king of [...]ier, & [...] A. [...].
That lately into Turkie had bene sent,
To bring some new supplies of horse and men,
And backe againe was new returnd as then.
In all the campe was not a man more stout,
In all the campe was not a man more strong,
Nor one of whom the French stood more in doubt,
Was there the Turkish armie all among,
In Agramants nor in Marsilios rout,
Nor all the followers did to them belong.
Beside he was (which made them dred him chiefe)
The greatest enemie to our beliefe.
Then Puliano came, a gallant king,
And Agramantes cousen Dardanell,
Whether some Owle did at their window sing,
Or other lucklesse bird I cannot tell,
As oft we see it is an vsuall thing,
That some presage ones mischiefe shall fortell;
But sure it was prefixt in heau'n on hie,
What time and hour next day they both should die.
Now all their bands were musterd sauing two,
Those of Noritia and of Tremisen,
King Agramant doth maruell what they do,
He knowes not where to heare of them nor when:
Now as he was dispatching hereunto
Some messenger, behold one of the men,
That seru'd the king of Tremisen, in hast
Came and discouerd all that had bene past.
Sir king (quoth he) by fortune and ill chance,
The noble kings Alsird and Manilard,
[...] Canto 12. [...] l [...]ter end.
Happend to meet a cruell knight of France,
While with their bands they traueld hither ward,
He ouerthrew them both, (oh hard mischance)
And kild, and spoild, and draue away their guard,
And sure (quoth he) I thinke his force is such,
To all your campe he would haue done as much.
Among the rest that to this tale gaue eare,
There was a Prince that late from Affricke came,
To whom king Agramant great loue did beare,
And Mandricardo was the Princes name,
His heart was stout, and far from any feare,
His bodie strong and able to the same,
And that which greatest glorie did him yeeld,
He had in Sorie conquerd Hectors sheeld.
Now that the messenger his tale had done,
Which made the hearers hearts for sorrow cold,
This valiant Prince king Agricanes sonne,
Straight was resolu'd (with heart and courage bold,
That to win praise no paine did euer shonne,
Although his purpose secret he de did hold,
To be reuenged on this bloodie knight,
That had to manie slaine and put to flight.
He askt the messenger what cloths he ware,
And in what [...]tourd garments he was clad?
Blacke (quoth the messenger) his rayments are,
No plume nor brauerie his helmet had:
And true it was, Orlandos inward care,
That made his heart so sorowfull and sad,
Causd that his armour and his open shoes,
Had like resemblance of his inward woes.
Marsilio had before a day or twaine,
Looke hereof is the Allusion.
Giu'n vnto Mandricard a gallant steed,
His colour bay, but blacke his taile and maine,
Of Frizland was the dame that did him breed,
The Sier was a villan braue of Spaine:
On this braue beast this braue man mounts with speed,
A race of horses in Spaine, called villan di Spagna interior to the Ginnes.
Swearing he will not to the campe turne backe,
Till he had found the champion all in blacke.
He meetes the sillie people in the way,
Halting, or maymd, or weeping for their frends,
Their woofull lookes, their fearfull hearts bewray,
(Weeping in such a losse but small amends)
But when he came where the dead bodies lay,
In vewing of their wounds some time he spends,
As witnesses of his strong hand that gaue them,
Him he enuies, and pities them that haue them.
Eu'n as a Wolfe, by pinching famine led,
That in the field a carreu beast doth find,
On which before the dogs and rau'ns haue fed,
And nothing left but hornes and bones behind,
Stands still, and gazeth on the carkasse dead:
So at this sight the Pagan Prince repind,
And curseth oft, and cals himselfe a beast,
For comming tardie to so rich a feast.
But when the mourning knight not here he found,
From thence he traueld many a wearie mile,
Vntill he found a medow compast round,
With running streames that almost made an Ile,
Saue one small entrance left of solid ground,
Which guarded was with armed men that while,
Of whom the Pagan asketh why they stand,
To guard the place with weapons in their hand.
Their captaine viewing well his braue attire,
Doth thinke he was a man of great regard,
And said king Stordilano did then hire,
Doraly [...]e.
Into these parts his daughter deare to guard,
Espousd to king of Sarza by her Sire,
Who shortly for the marriage prepard:
And here (quoth he) we do this passage keepe,
That none may trouble her while she doth sleepe.
To morrow to the campe we minde to go,
Where she vnto her father shall be brought,
Who meanes on Rodomont her to bestow,
By whom this noble match is greatly sought.
Now when the captaine had him answerd so,
This Prince that setteth all the world at nought,
Why then (quoth he) this maid be like is faire,
I pray thee cause her hither to repaire.
My hast is great, but were it greater far,
Yet would I stay to see a prettie maid:
Alas you misse your marke, your aime doth arr,
(Gentle sir foole) to him the captaine said:
Thus first they gan with bitter words to iar,
And then from blowes but little time they staid,
For straight the Prince did set his speare in rest,
And smot there with the captaine through the brest.
And straight wayes he recouered his speare,
And at the next that came there with doth runne,
For why none other weapon he did weare,
Since he the Troian Hectors armor wonne,
At what time he most solemnly did sweare,
To win the sword worne by Traianos sonne,
Cald Durindan, a blade of temper rare,
That Hector erst, and now Orlando bare.
Great was the force of this Tartarian knight,
That with his speare and weapon none beside,
Durst with so many ioynd togither fight:
Yet sets he spurs to horse, and sloutly cride,
Where is a man that dare withstand my migh [...]
Who dares forbid me where I list to ride?
And with that speare himselfe he so besturd,
That small preuaild against him bill or sword.
But when his speare in peaces burst he saw,
The trunchen huge he takes in both his hands,
His blowes were such, not blood but life to draw,
All dead or fled, not one his force withstands:
As Ebrew Samson with the Assesiaw,
Did heap [...] on heaps the proud Philisten bands,
So Mandricard sinote oft with so great force,
As one stroke kild both horsman and his horse.
Now though they tooke this thing in high disdaine,
To be thus conquerd with a broken sticke,
Yet when they learned had vnto their paine,
It was in vaine against the wall to kicke,
Though vnreuenged lie their fellowes slaine,
They leaue the dead, rather then loose the quick:
But he so eager was to kill and slay,
That scant he sufferd one to scape away.
Simile. [...]
And as the reeds in marishes and lakes,
Dride with the sunne, or stubble in the field,
When as by hap the fire among it takes,
May not it selfe, against that furie sheeld;
Fu'n so this crew, but small resistance makes,
And eu'n of force is d [...]u'n at last to yeeld,
And leaue her vndefended to their shame,
For whose defence they from Granata came.
Now when the passage open did appeare,
He hastens in the Ladie faire to see,
Whom he doth finde in sad and mourning cheare,
And leaning of her head against a tree,
Al [...] downe her cheekes ran streames of cristal cleare
She makes such mone as greater could not be,
And in her countenance was plainly showne,
Great griefe for others harmes, feare of her owne.
Her feare increast when as he nearer drew,
With visage sterne and all with blood distained,
The cries were great of her and of her crew,
That to their gods of their ill haps complained,
For why, beside the guard whom late he slew,
She had, that priuatly with her remained,
Laund'rers and nurses, playfellowes and teachers,
With learnd Phisitions, and heathnish Preachers.
Now when the Pagan Prince saw that faire face,
Whose fairer was not to be found in Spaine,
He thinks if weeping giue her such a grace,
What will [...]she proue when she shall smile againe?
He deemeth Paradise not like this place,
And of his victorie he seekes this gaine,
To haue his prisner suffer him to woe her,
And yeeld himselfe a prisoner vnto her.
Howbe't he maketh her against her minde,
Vpon her ambling nagge with him to ride,
Her masters, maides, and seruants left behind,
And promisd them he will for her prouide,
He will be seruitor, and nurse, and hind,
And playfellow, and gouernor, and guide,
Adew my frends (quoth he) I you enlarge,
For of your Mistres I will take the charge.
The wofull folke all mourning part away,
With scalding sighes, cold hearts and watrie eyes,
And one vnto another thus they say,
How deepe reuenge will her stout spouse deuise,
How will he rage to leese so faire a pray?
Oh that he had bene at this enterprise,
No doubt but he wold quickly wreak this slaughter
And bring againe king Stordilanos daughter.
Of this faire pray the Prince was well apaid,
Which fortune gate him ioyned to his might,
And now it seemd his hast was well alaid,
That late he made to meete the mourning knight,
Before he rode in post, but now he staid,
Bethinking where to rest himselfe that night,
To finde a place was now his whole desire,
Where he might quench his lately kindled fire.
And first to comfort and asswage the paine,
Of Ladie Doralyce (so was her name [...])
He frames a tale and most thereof doth faine,
And sweares that he allured by her fame,
Had purposely forsooke his home and raigne,
M [...]
And for her loue into these quarters came,
Not that he ought to France and Spaine that dutie,
But onely to the beames of her rare beautie.
If loue deserueth loue (quoth he) then I,
Deserue your liking that haue lou'd you long,
If stocke you do esteeme, my stocke is hie,
Sith I am sonne to Agrican the strong,
If state may stand in steed, who can denie,
To God alone our homage doth belong?
If valew in your choise be of behoofe,
I thinke this day thereof I haue showd proofe.
These words and such as loue had then him taught,
Who lent him eloquence to serue his turne,
So sweetly in her tender fancie wrought,
That in a little while she ceast to mourne,
And first her feare asswag'd, and then her thought,
A pleasing looke doth to her eye returne,
By which the Prince (in loue no nouice) guest,
That she ere long would grant him his request.
Now doth the night approch, and Phoebus facé
In Ocean sea begins it selfe to hide,
The which did cause them somwhat mend their pace
And on their way with greater speed to ride:
And now they traueld had but little space,
[...]gil. Etiam [...]ma procul [...]arum cul­ [...] sumant.
When first a smoke and then a light they spide,
Then came they where they heard the bandogs bark
When as the aire was now obscure and dark.
A few poore cotages where heardmen dwell,
They find, and there together they allight,
The houses poore, but such as very well
Might serue them to repose them for a night,
Their fare was meane, fit hunger to expell,
To which the heardmen friendly them inuite,
As curtesie oft times in simple bowres
Is found as great as in the stately towres.
But after supper what did passe betweene
Dame Doralyce and Agricanes haire,
May not be told, because it was not seene,
But they may guesse, that haue with Ladies faire
By night alone in place conuenient beene,
Where to disturbe them no man did repaire,
I doubt he did not so his passion bridle,
To let so faire a dame lie by him idle.
But sure I am when day light did appeare,
They both arose well pleasd and well content,
And thankt the heardmen for their friendly cheare,
And so from thence they both together went,
Vntill they came vnto a riuer cleare,
[...] followes in [...]xxij booke, [...] staffe.
Before the forenoone of the day was spent,
And riding downe along the riuer side,
Two horsemen with a damsell they espide.
But let them go, for why my high conceat
Forbiddeth me long in one path to tread,
And cals me back of Agramant to treat,
Who being newly troubled in his head,
To heare there were from England succors great,
Vnder the conduct of Renaldo led,
To counsell cald the Princes sage and wise,
Some remedie for mischiefes to deuise.
They all conclude the next ensuing day,
With sealing, ladders on the wals to mount,
Lest dangers new be bred by long delay,
And succors fresh hinder their first account:
Thus Agramant, thus doth Marsilio say,
Sobrino sage, and cruell Rodomont,
Who to destroy Paris alone doth threate,
And to pull downe the sacred Romane seate.
And to this end they straight prouide in hast,
Innumerable ladders apt to scale,
With timber towres vpon great wheeles so plast,
As that they may approch the citie wall,
From whence they may broade bridges safely cast,
And passe without all ieopardie to fall,
And throw their balls compact of firy matter,
Then haue they rams, the walls to bruse and batter.
But Charles, the day that went before that day,
The Painims meant to do their worst and best,
Did cause the Priests and Friers masse to say,
Did cause the people all to be confest,
And humbly prostrate vnto God to pray,
To saue and pittie them that were opprest,
And then they all receiu'd in Christen vnion,
The blessed sacrament, that high communion.
Himselfe with Lords and Barons of great fame,
(An humble feare of God in him so wrought)
The example of the Prince doth much with the people. Charls his prayer
In person publikly performes the same,
And by example others duties tought,
And calling on our Sauiours blessed name,
O Lord (said he) though I my selfe be nought,
Let not my sinne, my wickednesse and ill,
Moue thee thy faithfull peoples blood to spill.
And if it be thy sacred will (O God)
To punish vs for our so great transgression,
And make vs feele thy hand and heauy rod,
At least defer this plague and iust oppression,
That by thy foes we be not ouertrod,
We that of thy true faith do make profession,
Lest they blaspheme thy name (we ouerthrowne)
And say thou couldest not defend thine owne.
So shall our fall make them thy law despise,
So shall their wicked number still increase,
So shall the powre of Babylon arise,
So shall thy sacraments and Gospell cease,
Looke on this people Lord with gracious eyes,
Turne foiles and warres to victories and peace,
That when these dogs and runnegates be daunted,
Thy tombe and temple may be dayly haunted.
Alas our merits are of none effect,
To pay a portion of our grieuous debt,
Except thy grace our weaknesse so protect,
That our misdeeds out of thy sight be set.
Lord heale our soules with grieuous vice infect,
Forgiue our faults, our errors all forget,
And though our sinnes the sands in number passe,
Yet let thy mercies greatnesse them surpasse.
Thus praid the Prince most sorowfull and sad,
With humblenesse of heart and great contrition,
And to this prayre he then a vow doth ad,
Well suting to his state and high condition.
Nor small effect these vowes and prayers had,
For presently without all intermission,
His Angell good vp to our Sauiour mounted,
And there his vowes and prayers all recounted.
And thousand pray'rs alike at that same time,
By messengers alike to God were brought,
When lo the goodnesse, and the powre diuine,
That neuer shall, nor neuer vaine was sought,
His gracious care doth to their prayre incline,
Those whō he made, and whō he deare had bought:
Then to the Angell Michael straight he beckned,
Who not a little of his calling reckned.
And thus he said, go thither straight in post,
Where now in Picardie the Christens land,
And so to Paris guide that English host,
Let not their foes their comming vnderstand,
In this attempt shall Silence helpe you most,
Will him this enterprise to take in hand,
This done then see you find dame Discord out,
And will her hast vnto the Pagan [...]out.
And charge her there according to her skill,
Among the best to sow such soule dissension,
That they may one the other wound and kill,
And fill their camp with brauls and with contention:
Let some men like their entertainment ill,
And grudge because they haue no bigger pension,
And let them all so vary out of measure,
That they may do their Prince but little pleasure.
The blessed Angell not a word replies,
But doth his makers holy will obay,
Forthwith eu'n in a moment downe he flies,
And where he goes the clouds do fleet away:
But by the way he thinks and doth deuise,
Of eu'ry place where Silence find he may,
Though he an Angell were he could not tell,
Where this same enemie of speech doth dwell.
At last he fully doth himselfe perswade,
To find him in some houses of deuotion,
That first for li [...]e monasticall were made,
Where godly men despisers of promotion,
I [...]well [...]aire from all this worldly wicked trade,
With minds abhorring flesh and fleshly motion,
Where idle words should counted be a shame,
And where on eu'ry wall they write his name.
Wherefore into an Abbey he doth go,
And makes no question Silence there to find,
And Peace and Charitie, and Loue also,
And lowly thoughts, and well contented mind:
But soone he was aware it was not so,
All contrary ther humors were in [...]lind,
For Silence in that Ab [...]ey doth not host,
His name was onely was vpon a post.
T [...] repro [...] is [...] most if them. [...].
Nor Quietnesse, nor Humblenesse, nor Peace,
Nor Cha [...] nor godly loue was here,
They were [...] es, ba [...] [...] those times do cease,
Now Cou [...] and Ea [...]e and Belly cheare,
Pride, [...] and Ang [...]r [...] so increase,
That silence [...] and comes not neare.
With [...] the Angell then doth vew,
And findeth Discord [...]n this [...]rew.
Her whom the heau'nly King did will him find,
Next after Silence, her he findeth furst,
To seeke her out in hell he had assignd,
Among the spirits damned and accurst,
It sore did grieue his pure vnspotted mind,
Where he expected best, to find them worst,
It seemd to him a thing vncouth and strange,
In sacred place to find so great a change.
He knew her by her weed of sundry hew,
Discords [...] and descrip [...] Virgil. Ex [...] gaudens was [...]
All patcht with infinite vnequall lifts,
Her skin in sundry places naked vew
At diuers rents and cuts, he may that lifts:
Her haire was gray, and red, and blacke and blew,
And hard, and soft, in laces some she twists,
Some hangeth downe, vpright some standeth stating,
As if each haire with other had bene squaring.
Her lap was full of writs and of citations,
Of processes, of actions and arrests,
Of bils, of answers, and of replications,
In courts of Delegats, and of Requests,
To grieue the simple sort with great vexations
She had resorting to her as her guests,
Attending on her circuits and her iourneys,
Scriu'ners and clarks, and lawyers and atturney [...].
The Angell calleth her, and bids her go,
Vnto the Turks as fast as she can hie,
Among their kings such seeds of strife to sow,
As one of them may cause the to ther die.
Then he demaundeth her if she do know,
Within what place Silence doth vse to lie,
He thought that she that traueld much about,
In stirring strife might hap to find him out.
I cannot call to mind (quoth she) as yet,
That I haue talkt with Silence any time,
I heare them talke of him, and praise his wit,
And secretnesse to couer any crime;
But my companion Fraud can serue you fit,
For she hath kept him companie sometime,
And which was Fraud she pointeth with her finger,
Then hence she hies and doth no longer linger.
Fraud shewd in comely clothes a louely looke,
Descript [...] of Fraud.
An humble cast of eye, a sober pace,
And so sweet speech, a man might her haue tooke,
For him that said, haile Marie full of grace,
But all the rest deformedly did looke,
Fu'l of all filthinesse, and foule disgrace,
Hid vnder long large garments that she ware,
Close vnder which a poisond knife she bare.
The Angell asketh her if she do know
The place where Silence makes his habitation.
Forsooth (quoth Fraud) he dwelled long ago
With the wise sages of the Greekish nation,
Archytas and Pythagoras (I trow)
That chiefe to vertue had their inclination,
And afterward he spent these latter yeer [...]
With Carmelit and with Saint Bennet frier [...].
But since these old Philosophers did faile,
And these new saints their saintlike life did change,
He sought new places for his most auaile,
And secret and vncertaine he doth range:
Sometime with theeues that true men do assaile,
Sometime with louers that delight in change,
Sometime with traitors he doth bide, and furder,
I saw him late with one that did a murder.
With clippers and with coyners he doth stay,
Sometime in secret dens and caues obscure,
And oft he changeth places day by day,
For long he cannot in a place endure.
But I can tell you one most ready way,
Where you to find him out shall be most sure,
[...] where as Sleepe doth dwell, and out of doubt,
At midnight you shall find him thereabout.
Though Fraud by custome vse to lie and faine,
Yet was this tale so euidently trew,
The Angell now no longer doth remaine,
But with his golden wings away he flew
To Arabie, where in a country plaine,
Far from all villages and cities vew,
There lieth a vale with woods so ouergrowne,
As scarce at noone the day light there is showne.
[...]ihouse of [...].
Amid this darke thicke wood, there is a caue,
Whose entrance is with Iuie ouerspread,
They haue no light within, nor none they craue,
Here Sleepe doth couch his euer drowsie head.
[...]ub [...]nesse.
And Slouth lies by, that seems the gout to haue,
And Idlenesse, not so well taught as fed,
They point Forgetfulnesse the gate to keepe,
That none come in nor out to hinder Sleepe.
She knowes no names of men, nor none will learne,
Their messages she list not vnderstand,
She knowes no businesse doth her concerne,
There sentinell is Silence to this band,
And vnto those he comming doth discerne,
To come no neare he beckens with his hand,
He treadeth soft, his shoes are made of felt,
His garment short, and girded with a belt.
To him the Angell go'th, and in his eare
He tels him thus, Iehouah bids you guide
Renaldo, with the succors he doth beare,
To Paris walls, so as they be not spide,
Nor let the Pagans once suspect or feare
Their comming, nor for it at all prouide,
And let them heare no incling of these foes,
Vntill they find their force and feele their bloes.
No answer Silence made, but with his head
He made a signe, as who should say he would,
And with the Angell straight himselfe he sped,
In greater hast then can be thought or told,
To Picardie, from whence the Angell led,
That present day the bands of souldiers bold,
To Paris walls, an hundred miles asunder,
Yet no man was aware it was a wonder.
And Silence still surueyeth all the rout,
Before, beside, behind, with great regard,
And with a cloud doth compaste them about,
No man of them was seene, no noise was heard,
Then walketh he among the Pagans [...]cour,
And vnto them that kept their watch and ward,
And brought them somewhat (what I do not find)
That made them for the time both deafe and blind.
Now while Renaldo came with so great hast,
He returnes to Renaldo in the 16 Cant. 24 staf.
As well it seemd an Angell did him guide,
And as he went, with so great silence past,
As by his foes his comming was not spide:
King Agramant had now his footmen plast
By Paris walls, fast by the ditches side,
He meanes the citie to assaile that day,
On eu'ry side by all the meanes he may.
He that would take vpon him to declare,
Of Agramant host the certaine number,
That to destroy this Citie did prepare,
Shall seeme himselfe as frutelesly to cumber,
As if he told what flowres in Hyble are,
What fish in sea, what water drops in Humber,
What starres in skie at midnight when it couers,
The vnchast acts of close and secret louers.
The larum bell in eu'ry place doth ring,
About the towne with strange disorderd sound,
In Churches Mattens they do say and sing,
Some kneeling down, some groueling in ye ground,
If gold were vnto God so gratefull thing,
As fond men think, no doubt there would be found,
Enough in this extremitie, that would
Make all the saints new images of gold.
There might you see godly old men and iust,
Lamenting that their liues so long did last,
Virg [...], Oterque quater que beats.
And call them happie that were laid in dust,
And buried many yeares and ages past;
But gallant youths, deuoid of all mistrust,
Not with these perils any whit agast,
Whom enemies nor engines none appalls,
Go to defend right manfully the walls.
Bold Barons, Earles and Dukes of great degree,
With souldiers, forreiners, and of the towne,
Did come to Charles, and praid him to agree,
To let them out, and let the drawbridge downe:
Glad was king Charles their forward minds to see,
To fight for Christs religion and his crowne,
But yet as then he doth not thinke it best,
In this one point to grant them their request.
He rather thinks it better them to place,
The forces of the fierce assault to breake,
With distant bands a great or little space,
According as the wall was strong or weake:
Himselfe with chearfull vigor in his face,
Vnto them all most curteously doth speake,
These he doth comfort, them he doth encourage,
And fill the stout with hope, the faint with courage.
[...] of Paris.
Faire Parislieth in a pleasant plaine,
Eu'n in the nauell, rather in the hart
Of France, the riuer cuts the same in twaine,
And makes an Iland of the better part,
The rest that doth in greatnesse more containe,
A ditch and wall doth from the plaine depart,
King Agramant assaults the Westerne side,
As hauing Westward gotten all beside.
Marsilio with the warlike bands of Spaine,
He points to keepe the field in armed ranks,
Sabrino sage and those with him remaine,
Are placed vpon Sequans fruitfull banks.
Himselfe with an innumerable traine,
With ladders, bridges, fagots, barres and planks,
Doth thinke to fill the ditch and make it leuell,
And at the walles do keepe vnruly reuell.
What should I speake of Rodomont most fell,
Blaspheming God, not onely scorning men,
That knew to vse a glittring blade so well,
As I so well know not to vse my pen:
His deeds alone would aske a day to tell,
That in few houres he did performe as then:
As for the rest they came like swarmes of flies,
And fild the aire with shouts and hideous cries,
A description of the a [...] of a [...] well de­fended.
And they no lesse prouided are within,
With rampers, bulwarks, and with double dikes,
And where their foes to climbe do once begin,
They push them down with bils, with staues & pikes;
If one be kild, another steppeth in,
No man his place for feare of hurt mislikes,
Some throw down bricks, some stones, some scalding water,
And grieue them much with all, most with the later.
Some throw among them newly slacked lime,
That burneth most when most it seems to quench,
With pots of brimstone, pitch and turpentine,
Annoying them with heate, and smoke, and stench,
The rest are still employd, and leese no time,
With wreathed stakes to fortifie the trench:
Thus all within were busie, all without,
On both sides fortune standing still in doubt.
The while the king of Sarza brought about
His owne and men of diuers other lands,
Himselfe to shew his might and courage stout,
Rodomonts de­ [...] [...].
That made him counted valiant of his hands,
From Cupid [...] campe was not excluded out,
But rather soly subiect to such bands,
A Lion geuls he giues in loftie banner,
A Ladie bridling him in lowly manner.
So by the beast he meant his owne fierce mind,
And by the dame his mistris faire was ment,
The bridle was to shew how loue could bind
His loftie heart, and bow it to her bent.
He little knew, that shewd himselfe so kind,
How of his purchase others tooke the rent:
He knew not Mandricard did pleade possession,
Of her to whom he makes this kind profession.
Straight to the wals are thousand ladders plast,
Herest [...] seale.
With double ranks that two may climbe at once,
And vp the souldiers get on them in hast,
One shoulders vp another for the nonce:
He that goes slow, and he that climbes too fast,
Are each in perill of a broken sconce.
Their enemies assailing still the hier,
Their captains those that linger or retier.
Thus eu'ry one do clammer vp the wall,
For value some, and other some for feare,
And some are slaine, and some are made to fall,
Repenting late that euer they came there:
Fierce Rodomont alone (contemning all)
No paine, no place for perill doth forbeare,
But rusheth on, more despratly then sto [...]tly,
Blaspheming God while others pray denoutly.
A paire of curats passing hard he ware,
Made of an vgly Dragons scaly skin,
This armour his great auncestor first bare,
He that to build Babel did first begin:
(A towre whose height shold with the clouds cōpare)
And thought from God the rule of heau'n to win:
And to the same effect likewise he made,
Of passing proofe an helmet, shield and blade.
Thus Rodomont that came of Nimrods kind,
As proud and irreligious as was he,
Regardeth not a passage safe to find,
Or where the wall might weakest guarded be,
But with a heart to mischiefe all inclind,
Where he the same defended best doth see,
(Protected with his shield) he makes no bones,
To go through fire and water, darts and stones.
When once vpon the battlement he was,
Where all the wall was broade and largely paued,
How did he slay the Christens then alas,
How fierce he vnto them himselfe behaued?
His blade doth pierce their plates of steele and bras,
Al were not priests whose crowns that day were sha­ued,
He kild alone so many as their blood
Did cause the ditch to fill with crimson flood.
Beside the baser sort, these men of name,
At this same first conflict by him were slanie,
Orgetto Duke, that late from Flanders came,
Arnold and Hugo, two of Charles his traine,
And Lews that gouernd Prouence with great fame,
Walter and Denis, Hawnce of Satallaine,
Some were thrust through, some had (past all releefe)
Their helmets and their heads clou'n to the teeth.
And some by force from off the wall he caft,
Among the which was one Moschino hight,
That by his will would neuer water tast,
But still in wine did put his whole deligh [...]
But lo his lucke was to be drownd at last,
Within this dirtie dish for further spite,
And he that neuer water could abide
In all his life, now here in water dide.
Thus while that Rodomont did kill and slay,
All that he found vpon the vtmost wall,
His band of men the while had found the way,
To passe the ditch and so the wall to scale.
But now within another dike there lay,
The sight whereof their courage did appall,
For why the Christens sent such store of shot,
As this same place did seeme to them too hot.
The dike was drie, the bottome eu'n and plaine,
Both sides were steep, but steepest next the towne,
At this the souldiers curtesie do straine,
Which of them first shall venter to go downe,
[...] stratagem [...]uch is now [...]actised with gunpowder.
Within the citizens had made a traine,
With about great and cost of many a crowne,
That when the ditch with armed men was filled,
W [...]h [...]eat and smother they should all be killed.
It cubits had in bredth thrise ten and more,
And in the bottome there were closely plast,
Barrels of pitch, brimstone, and oyle good store,
All matter quicke to kindle, long to last.
The captaine led them all the way before,
And thousand souldiers followd them as fast,
But Rodomont as though he had had wings,
Quite ore the dike like to a grewnd he springs.
And being placed on the inner side,
Armd and vnarmed men to him are like,
No steele there was his forces could abide,
Death followth eu'rie blow that he doth strike:
Which when a while to their great cost they tride,
They do of force abandon quite the dike,
He follows slaying without all remorse,
So sharpe his sword, so furious is his force.
But when the souldiers thought the banke to mount,
With scaling ladders, as they did the wall,
They found themselues deceiu'd of their account,
For straight the fier works were kindled all,
Whose sudden flames the clouds thēselues surmount
Which sight the Pagans greatly did appall;
And to increase their terror and their wonder,
It made a noise like to continuall thunder.
The Christens do reioyce at this reliefe,
To see their practise had succeeded well:
The Pagans plagu'd, with heat, and smother chiefe;
In great dispaire do rore alowd and yell:
Thus twixt the noise of fier and cries of griefe,
They make an harmonie most meete for hell.
And here I meane to leaue them in the fire,
For to repose my selfe I now desire.

In Mandricardo that after his great exploites atchieued in other countries,Moral. is still ready to hazard his person for more honor, may be obserued, that ambition is as vnsatiable as any other humour of man. In his woing of Doralice, we may see how loue makes men many times, not onely valiant, but eloquent. In the assaulting and defending of Paris, is set downe what sundry accidents happen when such populous cities come to so great extremitie. In Charles that first makes his prai­ers to God, and after makes all prouident preparation for defence of the towne, we see a liuely patterne of an excellent and worthy Prince, both for deuotion and policie.

Concerning the historie,Historie. I haue quoted many things in the margent, as the straightnesse of roome would permit, that the simplest reader may vnderstand what is meant by the fourth staffe: here onely I will ad a word of Rauenna, referring the reader that is desirous to be better informed hereof, to Guicciardin, who sets it downe at large. Rauenna was besie­ged by the French vnder the conduct of one Fois, a notable captaine of so young a man. The Spaniards and Pope Iulio tooke vpon them to defend it, but in the heat of that assault Fois was slaine: yet the souldiers either by force or by parlee gat into the towne, and being within, they committed the notablest outrages that haue bene heard of, neither abstai­ning from rapes nor sacriledge. Concerning the Catalyns, whō he nameth formost in the musters, they are the chiefe house in all Spaine: and it is to be noted, that Spaine is deuided into fiue kingdomes, Nauar, Castill, Catalogna (which is now called Aragon) Portugall, and Granata. For Gallicia is counted none, because it had a king but a while. The rest of the strange names you may find in the table.

In the description of Discord and Fraud,Allegorie. and finding Silence in the house of sleep, being long since banished from philo­sophers and diuines; the allegorie is so plain, as it were time lost to spend time to expound it, because it expounds it selfe so plainly: only I will obserue one thing, in which mine Author is thought to keep an excellent decorum. For, making Discord and Fraud of the feminine gender, he still makes Silence the masculine; as the like pretie conceit is in our Cambridge Comedie Pedantius, (at which I remember the noble Earle of Essex that now is, was present) where the Pedantius him­selfe, examining the Gramaticall instruction of this verse: Caedant arma togae, concedat laurea linguae, vpon speciall consideration of the two last words, taught his scholler Parillus, that laurea, lingua sunt vtraque foemininae generis, sed lingua potissimum, and so consequently silence might not by any meanes haue bene of the feminine gender.

In Mandricardos rape of Doralice, Allusion. he alludes euidently to a notable villany in the like kind, done by Caesar Borgia son to Pope Alexander the sixt. For one Caraccio a captaine of Venice, hauing bene lately contracted to a gentlewoman of good account, she came with an honorable train neare to a citie called Cesenna in Romagna: here Borgia with a band of men, set vpon her company, and took her away by force, and neither by threats nor intreatie of the Venecian Ambassador would restore her again: the allusion holds in many parts, as first where he saith in the 29. staff. That Marsilio had giuen Mandricardo an horse.

Of colour bay, but blacke the taile and maine,
Of Frizland was the mare that did him breed,
The sier was a villan braue of Spaine.

This notes Borgia, whose father was a Spaniard, his mother a Flemming, and he a mungrel bastard. In the one an thirtith staffe, in the simile of the Wolfe, he noteth his crueltie: in the eight and fortith staffe where he saith,

If state may stand insteed, who can denie,
Onely to God our homage doth belong▪

In that he alludes plainly to the Pope that is reputed Christs Vicar on earth.



Faire Paris is assaild on eur'ie part,
By those of Affricke, and by those of Spaine:
From Logestill' Astolfo doth depart,
And takes Calligorant in his owne traine,
Then slew Orillo, that by Magicke art
Reuiu'd, when by the brothers he was slaine:
Stout Sansonet Astolfo kind doth vse,
But Gryphin of his mistres beares ill news.
TO winne the field against our armed foes,
Is counted honorable anie wayes,
Although it be with poli­cie or blowes,
Yet bloodie cōquests stain the Captaines praise,
But chiefest honour doth belong to those,
Whom Fortune to such height of hap doth raise,
To haue their foe supprest and ouerthrowne,
With little losse and damage of their owne.
[...]he spake of [...] the 3. [...] you shall [...] in Guye­ [...] as large.
Such was the victorie that you then gaind,
O stout Hyppolito you conquerd so,
When the Venetian Nauie had obtaind,
With armed vessels all the streame of Poe,
Your policie and vallue them constraind,
With losse inestimable thence to go:
Their marriners and souldiers all destroying,
Our marriners and souldiers not annoying.
The Pagan 'Rodomont did want this skill,
That forst ten thousand men the trench to enter,
By his commandment sore against their will,
Vpon so perillous a place to venter,
Where straight the smother doth their bodies kill,
And send their sinfull soules beneath the center,
Himselfe in safetie sees them there a dying,
Still swearing, cursing, heau'n it selfe defying.
Now Agramant an hot assault and fearce,
Gaue where he thought the same was lest exspected
He striues the wals to batter, break and pearce
With engins strong, and rams thereto erected:
Those kings whose names I did before rehearse,
Brought men, some stout, & some with fear infected,
And such as rather wish to stand aloofe,
Then weare a corslet of the surest proofe.
But Agramant herein was much deceaued,
For where he thought them weake and vnprepard,
He found that manfully he was receaued,
And that the king himselfe the place did guard,
With thousands more readie to be bereaued
Of life and limbe, and such as nought regard,
Before that they would take so great disgrace,
As in their masters sight to leese their place.
But here I cease vntill another time,
In the xvi book. in the xvi. staff.
To tell of these assaults the hard successe,
Of damage like to both sides: now my rime
Vnto the English Duke I must addresse,
Astolfo sonne of Oton whom sometime,
Alcynas witchcraft held in great distresse,
Who like another Cyrce men transformed,
To trees, to beasts, and soules of shapes deformed.
You heard before how all her strange deceits,
Melyssa sage did with the ring discouer,
And how she gaue them also good receits,
As made them all their former shapes recouer,
How after hauing scaped all their sleights,
They did no longer in such fancies houer,
But to be surely able to resist her,
They fled vnto her vertuous elder sister.
Where when they had with comfort great remained,
Desirous to their countries to retire,
They asked leaue of her, and leaue obtained,
Of her that neuer hinders iust desire:
But er they went she frendly them constrained,
With precious gifts to be endowed by her,
Such gilts as were of precious price indeed,
And all their liues should stand them all in steed.
But chiefly to this English Duke she gaue,
Of secret skill a little written booke,
Containing many a precept wise and graue,
The which of her most thankfully he tooke;
These teach a man from charmes himselfe to saue,
That in the same aduisedly doth looke,
And that to find them out he may be able,
The booke had in the end a perfit table.
Beside this booke on him she doth bestow,
Another gift of as great price and more,
A horne in which if he do once but blow,
The noise thereof shall trouble men so sore,
That all both stout and faint shall flie therefro,
So strange a noise was neuer heard before;
When to the Duke these rare gifts were imparted,
He humblie tooke his leaue and thence departed.
Look [...] [...] the Al­legorie.
And least Al [...]na should by force attempt,
To bring him backe or worke him some disease,
Andronica was with a nauie sent,
To waste him sate till he were past those seas,
And vertuous So [...]hrosina with him went,
To see him passe with safetie and with ease,
So good a cond [...]cter, so sure a guide.
As was not found in all the world beside.
And thus she saild along that Indian shore,
And sees and [...]ee [...]eth sight of sundrie Iles,
Those called fortunate and others more,
That distant are, some few, some many miles,
And for he neuer heard of them before)
He askt his guide some questions others whiles,
As whether from those Indian seas perchance,
A ship may saile to England, Spaine, and France.
She answerd thus; to put you out of doubt,
First know the earth itselfe it like an Iland,
In [...]toned with waters round about,
There is a previous [...] beyond [...] one would for that be [...].
That compasse in on eu'ry side their drie land,
And though to this day no man hath found out,
Nor thinks there can be any way but by land,
Because they iudge the lands length there is such,
That it the other Hemispher doth tuch.
Yet I foresee, et many ages passe,
N [...]w in [...] and masters new shall rise,
Sir Francis [...] the su [...]nes [...].
That shall find out that erst so hidden was,
And that discouer where the passage lies,
And all the men that went before surpasse,
To find new lands, new starres, new seas, new skies,
And [...]asse about the earth as doth the Sunne,
To search what with Antipodes is done.
Behold I see the signe of holy crosse,
A signe within these quarters seene but seeld,
I see where ten a thousand put to losse,
And to th'imperiall banner all do yeeld,
I see in spite of eu'rie thwart and crosse,
The house of Aragon still wins the feeld,
I see that fortune is disposd to lift,
Vp vnto heau'n the name of Charles the fift.
It pleaseth God to keepe the wayes vnknowne,
Vnto these parts as they haue bene and are,
Vntill seuen hundred yeares be ouerblowne,
What time he meanes to raise an Emp'ror rare,
That shall both finde and make them all his owne,
And one that shall most worthily compare,
In warre for courage, and in peace for iustice,
With Traian, with Aurelius or Augustus.
I see the will of heau'n doth so incline,
The house of Austria and of Arragon,
Shall linke togither in a happie line,
And be by match vnited both in one:
I see a braunch grow by the banke of Ryne,
Charles the [...].
Out of this house, as like there hath bene none,
Whose match (thus much to say I dare be bold)
May not be found in writers new or old.
By him againe Astrea shall be brought,
And be restored from her long exile,
And vertues that haue long bene set at nought,
Shall raigne and banish fraud deceit and guile;
It was [...] that [...] to conquer [...] world, and [...] to enter [...] and [...] Pope and [...] to enter [...] and becomes Pope and Emp­eror both, so verse [...] to [...], but a [...] of some [...]
For which great works by him so nobly wrought,
God meanes to grant him all this earthly Ile,
And vnder this wise Prince his deare annointed,
One shepheard and one flocke he hath appointed.
Which that it may the better be effected,
He giues them Captaines both by sea and land,
That shall win places neuer yet detected
And none shall dare their forces to withstand;
Cortese first, by whom shall be erected,
The Emp'rors banner in the Indian sand,
Who by his valiant hand and wise direction,
Shall win and keepe those Indies in subiection.
Loe, with the noble Marques of Pescare,
Prosper Colonna prosperous in fight,
Loc him that may with both of them compare,
Or be preferred if you do him right,
I meane the Marques Vast, whose vallew rare,
In tender youthfull yeares shall shine most bright,
Like to a horse that running swiftest pace,
Doth last set out, and first doth win the race.
In him shall faith and courage be so mixt,
That when his years shal seeme but young & tēder
As passing not the twentie yeare and fixt,
Yet shall his fame and forces not be slender;
On him shall eyes and hearts of men be fixt,
To him shall townes and forts, and castels render,
As to a Captaine with such worth endewed,
As he alone the world might haue subdewed.
What should I speake of famous Andrew D'Orie,
That to the pyrats so much terror breeds,
As Pompey so much praisd in Latin storie?
This Andrew either matches or exceeds:
What nobler name can be, what greater glorie,
Then to roote out such hurtfull cursed weeds?
So as men may with safetie and with ease,
From Italy to Nylus passe the seas.
By his assistance, furtherance and his aide,
In Italy Caesar a crowne obtaines,
For which good seruice though he be well paid,
Yet for himselfe thereby he nothing gaines:
[...] great praise [...]need of D'Oria [...] the [...] of [...] more then his [...].
The paine is his (ò noble mind well staid)
The profit to his country sole remaines:
And whereas some to rule their country sought,
By him his countries freedome shall be wrought.
This loue by him vnto his country showne,
In honor true shall more his name aduance,
Then both the Caesars victories well knowne,
In England, Spaine, in Italy and France:
For thought their enemies were ouerthrowne,
By valour oft, and oftentimes by chance,
Yet this did blot their praise and make it lesse,
That both their countries freedome did oppresse.
Wherefore let them and others all beside,
That tyrannize their countries be ashamed,
And hanging downe their heads, their faces hide,
When they shall heare this noble. Andrew named,
By whose rare temperate and happie guide,
His countries peace and freedome shall be framed:
And thus Andronica the Duke foretold,
What men in future ages come there shold.
The while with prosprous winds the vessels driued,
Came first within the view of Persian shore,
And then from thence their way they so contriued,
They past the gulfe (so called long before)
And there to land so happily arriued,
Misdoubting of Alcynas might no more,
He thanks these guides ye all the way defended him,
And humbly to their Ladie recommended him.
More woods then one, more fields then one he past,
More then one valley, more then one high hill:
He meeteth the eues by night, by dayes as fast,
That lie in wait poore trauellers to kill:
Of beasts, of serpents huge he was agast,
That with their terror those wild deserts fill,
But when he blew his horne they fled away,
No man nor beast durst in the hearing stay.
He trauels through the happie Arabie,
So called for the store of spices sweet,
There where the bird that burnes and doth not die,
To dwell of all the world hath thought most meet:
Thence went he to the sea, that once was drie,
Which Iacobs sons went through vpon their feet,
Red sea.
Proud Pharao following them vnto his cost,
Himselfe and all his charets drownd and lost.
Fast by the banks of Traians streame he rides,
There where as Nylus doth receiue the same,
An horse of passing swiftnesse he bestrides,
That was ingendred twixt the wind and flame,
Not such a beast in all the world besides,
And Rabycano is this horses name:
Rabicano Astol­fos horse of excel­lens swifines.
Now as along the riuers banke he past,
He saw a boate make toward him in hast.
A simple hermit did the vessell steare,
Whose beard with age was ouergrowne and gray,
And when he came so nie that he might heare,
These words to him he fatherly doth say,
My sonne if you do hold your safetie deare,
Except you meane to die this present day,
Proceed no farther in the way you ride,
But terme ouer to the other side.
For if you do that fatall way proceed,
You shall within a mile a giant meet,
Whole stature other men doth farre exceed,
For why his height is counted fourteene feet,
He makes a sport of eu'ry cruell deed,
The flesh of man vnto his tast is sweet,
He eateth some aliue, and some he slayeth,
He quarters some, and other some he slayeth.
Amid this crueltie he hath great sport,
To vse the seruice of a certaine net,
Which in the common way in secret sort,
With dust and grauell couerd he doth set,
And then when strangers do that way resort,
First if he may, behind them he doth get:
And then with hideous outcries he them scares,
Vntill they fall into his net vnwares.
But hauing caught them once in such a cage,
Of birth or merit he hath no respect,
Of wealth nor sex, of country nor of age,
No priuiledge from him can them protect,
Looke in the Al­lusion.
Their carkases his hunger must asswage,
Their sculs like monuments he doth erect,
In posts and windowes hanging them on pins,
His chambers all are hanged with their skins.
Take then (my sonne) take then this other way,
Where with more ease and safetie you may go.
Thanks (gentle Frier) the English Duke doth say,
Yet can I not your counsell follow tho,
Though danger bids go safest way one may,
Yet what saith honor? honor saith not so,
Let none retire with shame, thus honor seath,
The worst that can befall one is but death.
But contrary, if I may him intrap,
As he to do to others doth deuise,
And take himselfe in his prepared trap,
The good is great that hereof may arise.
Well, quoth the hermit, God grant blessed hap,
And send his Angell Michael from the skies,
That may deliuer him into thy hand,
Or giue thee strength his forces to withstand.
On [...] the Duke blest by the simple Frier,
Much trusting in his sword, more in his sound:
And being now approcht a little nier,
The cruell grants gracelesse house he found,
[...]ond all with marrith ground and mier,
His chambers all within were furnisht round
With skins and skuls of many a wofull hed,
Or such as euill chance had thither led.
Ash [...] at by forrest wild do dwell,
Naile by on the heads and pawes of Beares,
And of their dangers do delight to tell,
And call to mind their hardly scaped feares:
So looke who did in strength the rest excell,
[...] grant kept some speciall limbs of theirs,
The rest in ditches carelesly he throwes,
To [...] and be deuourd by dogs or crowes.
[...] is this giants name)
Stands looking at his gate with watchfull eie,
Reioycing much when any stranger came,
And namely now the Duke he doth espie,
Not doubting but by him to do the same,
He had to others done, and make him die;
But first he seekes behind the Duke to get,
And thinks hereby to driue him to the net.
When as the Duke the Giant fierce espide,
He stand his horse and would not forward go,
For feare left in the net he might be tide,
Of which the hermit had forewarnd him tho:
Then bl [...]weth he his horne of vertue tride,
That in the heaters terror breeds and wo,
Which to possest his senses altogether,
As straight he fled, and saw not where nor whether.
[...] with his heart he lost his eies,
And still he fled, and cares not how nor where,
[...] to the place where that most strange net lies,
Which he to take the Duke had placed there,
Th [...] has armes and all his members ties,
Which when Astolfo saw (now out of feare)
He lights and drawes his sword, intending then
To venge the death of thousand guiltlesse men.
But finding him so sure and strongly bound,
He thought it were a base vngentle part,
To stay a prisner whom in bands he found,
So as he could not stir, nor no way start:
God Fulcan wrought this net in caues profound,
Of flaming Aetna, with such skill and art,
That though the wires did seem but smal and weak,
Yet could no force the same consume nor breake.
I say this [...] net then Vulcan wrought,
When certaine iealous thoughts his heart inflamed,
His spouse the [...] with in Mars his armes he caught,
And openly then made them both ashamed,
At which prospect though many gods then laught,
Atque a [...]qum [...].
Yet many wisht in like sort to be shamed:
She Mercury did after steale this net,
His louely Clora therewithall to get.
Faire Cloris who flies out before the morne,
And sprinkleth aire with smell of fragrant flowres,
That in her louely lap about are borne,
From whence do fall the pleasant Aprill showres:
But Mercury, sith she his loue did scorne,
[...]ay with his net in waite not many houres,
Till at the last by Nylus banks he caught her,
And there to daunce la volta then he taught her.
The net in Anubs temple he did leaue,
Where many yeares in safetie it did bide,
Vntill Calygorant not asking leaue,
And caring not what should thereof betide,
Or this great relique did the church bereaue,
With all the plate and ornaments beside:
And to this wicked vse the net employed,
By which the passengers were sore annoyed.
Now of this net Astolfo tooke a wire,
And (like a theefe) behind him tide his hands,
Who now was meeke as any could desire,
And like a lambe by him most gently stands:
At least the waight thereof himselfe might tire,
First hauing bound his prisner sure in bands,
He makes him carry that vpon his backe,
And vsde him like a mule to beare a packe.
And thus he parteth thence triumphing so,
And led the giant prisner in a string,
And all about the country him doth show,
(A sight that to them all great ioy did bring)
To Memphis Pyramids he then doth go,
Most famous for the tombe of many a King,
Peter [...] proverb [...] the great Pyra­mid [...] furlongs [...] thereforth [...] in compasse [...] more then in long of [...]
More hie in height then fiftie times Pauls steeple,
Then saw he Cayr so huge and full of peeple.
But not so peopled as they now report,
That thousands in the streets by night do lie
For want of roome, yet builded in such sort,
That eu'ry house is made three stories hie,
Where runnegates do dwell, that make a sport,
Their saith and their saluation to denie:
Of which the Sowdan for his owne behoofe,
Keepes fifteene thousand lodging in one roofe.
Thence went Astolfo to the banks of Nyle,
To Damyat a citie thereabout,
And here he heard within a dozen myle
Oryllo dwelt, a hardy theefe and stout,
That robd poore men, and kild them other while,
As trauellers of him stood sore in doubt,
And (that which him with greater wonder filled)
The common voice was he could not be killed.
Full many a thrust, full many a cruell blow,
Of many men in fight he had endured,
And vnto many men great care and wo,
And death itselfe he often had procured:
Put his owne bodie was enchanted so,
As eu'ry wound he had forthwith was cured,
I thinke some Fayry was his dame, or rather
I thinke some Incubus had bene his father.
The worthy knight this wicked creature sought,
Vntill at last he came vnto the place,
Where then Orillo with two champions fought,
The combat hauing held no little space,
Yet at his hands they both had gained nought,
Though both of them gaue [...]undry blowes apace,
[...] and A­ [...].
Their names were these that held this mungrell tack,
Griffin the white and Aquilant the black.
The Necromancer fought with vantage great,
He rode vpon a cruell hideous beast,
A Crocodile that flesh of men doth eat,
And birds and beasts, and doth them all digest,
Yet had the brethren throwne him from his seat,
And [...]urther had the Crocodile distrest:
But him to wound and kill in vaine they striued,
For still his wounds did heale, and he reuiued.
Sometime they cleft his head by force in twaine,
As butchers cleaue a bullocks with an axe,
But straight he ioyneth both the parts againe,
As if they had bene made of melting waxe.
Who so hath seene the Alcumists most vaine,
That work with Mercurie their cunning knacks,
Which quite disperst, reioyneth eu'ry member,
Would soone by this be made that to remember.
Fierce Aquilant among so many bloes,
With one, his head from off his shoulders strake,
About he seekes and gropeth as he goes,
And in the dust to find his head doth take,
And finding it, he takes it by the nose,
Or by the locks, nor more ado doth make,
But sets it on as if it were but glewed,
And fights as if his forces were renewed.
Stout Griffin at a blow cuts off his arme,
And takes it vp and flings it in the brooke,
But he like one that had receiu'd no harme,
Doth diue the same within the streame to looke,
Which found, he ioynes (I know notwt what charm)
Vnto the place it late before forsooke:
Two dames stood by in white and blacke attire,
The combat being fought at their desire.
These were the courteous dames that with great care
[...]ding as [...] the poet [...] as [...] [...]thor fol­ [...].
Had brought them vp eu'n frō their swathing bands,
For the [...]e two brothers did by fortune rate,
In their first childhood chance into their hands:
These two to Oliuer Gysmonda bare,
Though straight they were conuaid to forren lands,
Where these two Ladies kept them as their owne,
I need not tell at large a tale so knowne.
Now was the time that neare approcht the night,
That makes each thing with shadow shew obscure,
So that not want of force, but want of light,
Did cause the combat could no longer dure:
The Ladies clad in garments blacke and bright,
That (as I said) this conflict did procure,
On this condition did them all dismisse,
That to returne next day they do not miss [...].
But when that English Duke both saw and knew,
The valiant youths Griffin and Aquilant,
Not onely by their armes he saw in vew,
But by their blowes, of which they were not scant,
He doth acquaintance old with them renew,
And they no point of courtesie do want,
For straightway by the Ladies he was led,
To take with them a supper and a bed.
Then in a garden sweet they did prouide
Great store of daintie meats and costly wine,
Fast by a coole and pleasant fountaines side,
As best agreeth with the sommer time,
The while the giant with strong chaines they tide
Vnto the bodie of an auncient Pine,
Lest he might hap to trouble and molest them,
While they determind to refresh and rest them.
The boord with rich and costly fare was filled,
And yet their smallest pleasure was their meat,
Sentence. For in deede at a wise mans boord the smallest plea­sure the guests haue, is their cheare in compa­rison of the plea­sing talke that happens either in mirth or grauity.
The Knights in languages and learning skilled,
Talke of Oryllo and the wonder great,
To see one wounded so, and yet not killed,
It seemd to them a dreame and strange conceat,
And eu'n the wisest and most learnd did wonder,
How he reioynd his members cut in sunder.
Astolfo onely in his booke had read,
(That booke that taught all charmes to ouerthrow)
How this Oryllo neuer could be dead,
While in his head one fatall haire did grow,
But hauing puld this haire from off his head,
He should be subiect vnto eu'ry blow,
Thus said the booke, but precept there was none,
Among so many haires to find that one.
Astolfo ioyfull of this good instruction,
Not doubting but by this to make him die,
First makes some circumstance of introduction,
And prayes the brothers giue him leaue to trie,
If he could bring Oryllo to destruction,
And they this friendly sure do not denie,
Not doubting he alone would striue in vaine,
With him that late resisted had them twaine.
Now had the Sunne remou'd the nights darke vaile,
When as Oryllo turned to the field,
And then the English Duke did him assaile,
Both fought on horseback, both with spear & shield.
Eu'n then Oryllo felt his heart to faile,
(A hap to him that hapned had but feeld)
Eu'n then some strange presage did him offend,
That shewd his dayes drew shortly to their end.
Their speares now broke their naked swords they drew,
Astolfo layes on blowes on him a maine,
About the field Oryllos members flew,
But he together gathers them againe,
And straight his fight and forces doth renew,
The English Duke dismembring him in vaine,
Vntill at length one blow so luckie sped,
That by his shoulders he cut off his hed.
And hauing headed him so eu'n and iust,
Straight with his head on horsebacke he doth mount
And rides away, Orillo in the dust
Doth grope to find the same as he was wont,
But missing it and full of new mistrust,
To ouertake him yet he makes account,
He ride [...] and would haue cride ho tarrie tarrie,
But in his hand the Duke his tongue doth carrie.
But though his head were lost, he finds his heeles,
To [...]purre and pricke he neuer doth forbeare,
The headlesse body neuer stirs nor reeles,
Put sits as sure as if the head were there:
The while the skull Astolfo puls and peeles,
Among such store to find th'inchanted haire,
For in the haires no diffrence was in sight,
To know if he did take the wrong or right.
But sith to make sure worke he thought it best,
He makes his sword serue for a barbers knife,
To shaue the skull therewith he doth not rest,
Vntill he finisht had the bloudy strife:
He cuts that haire by chance among the rest,
That haue that h [...]ld Orillo in his life,
The face looks pale, deuoid of liuely heate,
The body backward fals out of the seate.
This done, the Duke brought in his hand the head,
Returning to the companie againe,
And shewd them where he left the carkas dead,
Which when they saw with certain signes and plaine
A kind of enuious ioy in them it bred,
For glad they were their enemie was slaine,
But inwardly they were displeasd and sorie,
That this saine Duke had got from them the glorie.
The women also were not well content,
That he had slaine Orillo in the fight,
Because [...] had their first intent,
Which was to stay these youths al means they might,
In hope thereby some mischiefes to preuent,
Which th [...]y foresaw should vnto them alight:
Straight all that country was with rumor filled,
How th'English Duke Orillo fierce had killed.
T [...] have [...]ard some [...].
For as in all those cities they dovse,
The keeper of the next adioyning fort,
Sent by a Doue a letter of the newes,
From Damiat vnto the nearest port,
By which deuice most rare they cannot chuse
But heare and send with speed each true report:
And thus in eu'ry country and in towne,
They do extoll this English Dukes renowne.
The worthy Duke the brothers doth perswade,
From thence their courses into France to bend,
To do the dutie for which man was made,
Gods honour and their countries to defend,
Which now the Turks and Pamims did inuade,
And neare had brought the same to wofull end:
Which counsell from so great a Prince proceeding,
They follow straight with forwardnesse exceeding.
The women now with teares in watry eies,
Bid them farewell, and so they parted thence:
And for they heard the holy citie lies
Not passing sixe or seu'n dayes iourney thence,
To take it in their way they do deuise,
To see the place, where for humane offence,
True God, true man, descending from aboue,
Did die for vs vnworthy of such loue.
And sith the way betweene was large and wide,
And void of fruits for sustenance of man,
They do good store of bread and wine prouide,
With needfull things, as for the time they can,
And on the giants shoulders them they tide,
Who like a sumpter horse them after ran,
And on this sort with most deuour intent,
Like pilgrims to Ierusalem they went.
Sixe dayes they traueld in their weary way,
Nor seeing man, nor beast, nor bird aliue,
The seuenth, immediat after breake of day,
In that most blessed citie they arriue:
Then visit they the tombe where Iesus lay,
When with his death he did vs dead reuiue,
And brought hell, sinne and death into subiection,
With suffring, dying and his resurrection.
Now while the tombe with great heed they behold,
Bare head and feet in shew of meek submission,
And with more inward ioy then can be told,
Yet ioyned with a deepe and sad contrition,
That strake their hearts in awe and made them cold,
With true remorse deuoid of superstition,
And with themselues they still continued musing,
Each one himselfe in such like words accusing.
Why then, where thou deare Lord didst for our sake,
A [...]spand [...].
With water and with blood the ground distaine,
Shall not mine eyes some small amends to make,
Shed teares in memory of so great paine?
Oh drowsie heart that dost not now awake,
Oh frozen heart that meltest not in raine,
Oh stony heart that dost not now relent,
Lament thee now, or else for ay lament.
Thus with an humble and repentant sprite,
They tarride at the tombe no little space,
When so the priest appeared in their sight,
Whose office was to keepe the holy place,
Who seeing them so lowly and contrite,
He doth impart to them this speciall grace,
(Sith to amendment they were now resolued)
Them of their sinnes forepassed he absolued.
This done, they went about and viewd the towne,
Held in those happy dayes by Christen hands,
Who striuing now to keepe each other downe,
A true [...] of [...].
With causlesse warres do trouble sea and lands,
Or leesing or neglecting that renowne,
In which Gods honour and their safetie stands:
But letting this great enemy increase,
By their seeld making, neuer keeping peace.
A gallant knight whom Sansonet they call,
This citie gouernd vnder Charles the great,
Who then intended to repaire the wall,
And make the towne a strong and stately seat:
Astolfo gaue to him the Giant tall,
For strength and stature fit for such a feat,
To serue his present purpose for the nonce,
Vnto the walls to carry heauy stones.
And Sansonet doth eke on him bestow,
A curious belt and hangers for a blade,
And spurs of gold, in substance rich and show,
That for that knight were thought to haue bin made
[...] George.
That slue the Dragon with a deadly blow,
Which did the Ladie chast and faire inuade:
Thus gifts both giu'n and tane on either part,
Each from the other friendly doth depart.
Now going from Ierusalem, behold
They met a Greekish pilgrim by the way,
That such ill newes to good Griffino told,
As made him out of temper all the day:
It was his euill fortune, deare to hold,
And giue his heart vnto her for a pray,
That had a pleasing hew, and faire smooth skin,
But false, vnchast, and trecherous within.
Her name was Origilla, whom of late
He left at Constans of an Agew sicke;
And hoping now to find her in good state,
He heares she hath him seru'd a sluttish tricke,
As namely she had got a newfound mate,
Not caring if that he were dead or quicke:
She thought that for her yong yeares twas no reason,
To lie alone in that sweet pleasant season.
This newes his mind doth gripe, his heart doth bite,
He mournes by day, by night he takes no rest,
That breeds him paine that others breeds delight,
And this torments him more then all the rest,
He shames, and shuns to haue it come to light,
What was his griefe that did him so molest.
And this to keepe it close the rather made him,
Because from her his brother did disswade him.
But all in vaine, for he was wholy bent
To follow her, although he knew her nought,
Yet to himselfe he keepeth his intent,
That secretly his going may be wrought:
He vowes to makes th'adulterer repent,
Who now to Antiochia her had brought:
But in another booke I will expresse,
Of his departure what was the successe.

In the beginning of this booke was an excellent morall (if you obserued it) shewing how hurtfull it is for a captain to be prodigall of his men,Moral. and rash or headlong in his attempts: the former of which faults (that worthy and valiant gentle­man) sir Iohn Smith hath very grauely and iustly reproued in some captains of our time, in that treatise that he wrote in defence of the vse of long bowes: and indeed it cannot be denied but bloudy conquests are no praise to the conquerour: In token whereof the Lacedemonians appointed, that he that wan a bloody victory should sacrifice a cocke; but he that o­uercame by policie without bloudshed, an oxe: so much they preferred wisedome that is peculiar to man, before strength that is common to beasts. In Charles is to be noted the prouidence of a wise and valiant Prince: In Astolfo, that by the power of his horne rids the country of theeues and malefactors, we may learne to apply the talents are giuen vs, to good vses: In Griffin, that after all his deuotion at Ierusalem, comes againe to Origilla, we may note the frailtie of flesh, and withall, that outward holinesse without inward zeale auaileth nothing.

The historie (set downe here in maner of a prophecie) of the prosperous raigne of Charles the fift,Historie. is too long to stand vpon in this place, but Iouius, Guycciardin, Vlloa, Surius, and Sleydan himselfe (though his enemy) do witnes his great conquests, his happie discouery of the Indies, his notable captains, and the great felicitie of his whole life: of which authors, because two are already in English, I imagine there be few that are like to reade this, but haue read the one of them, and consequently know as much to be true as I do here set downe. And for the Indian voyages, we need not so much admire the captains of forren nations, hauing two of our owne nation that haue both as forwardly aduentured, and as fortunatly performed them, namely, sir Francis Drake, whom I touched before, and yong Master Candish.

In that Logestilla giueth Astolfo at his departing a booke to instruct him, and a horne to breed terror to his enemies;Allegorie. by the booke is signified wisedome, whereby all charmes and toyes are discouered: and by the horne is vnderstood iustice, that indeed brings terror to all misdoers, and driues them out of the country. Further, whereas Logestilla sends Andro­nica and Sophrosina to safe conduct Astolfo, least Aleyna should attempt any new matter against him, it is to be vnder­stood allegorically, that fortitude and temperance are the two most notable guides that we can haue in this world to keepe vs from pleasures snares, or violent assaults. Also whereas Astolfo looks first in his booke ere he take vpon him the enter­prise to fight with Orillus, it is to be vnderstood, that good aduice is to be taken before men vndertake dangerous exploits.

The house of Callygorant alludeth vnto the den of Cacus in the vij. of the Aeneads in Virgill, Allusion.

—Semper (que) recenti
Caede tenebat humus, foribus affixa superbis,
Ora virum tristi pendebant pallida tabo.

Simon Fornatius thinks that in the person of Calligorant, he meant a subtill sophister that became an heretike, and corrupted many, but after recanting, did good seruice in the Church. The fatall haire of Orillus, though it be meerly fa­bulous, yet hath it allusion to some truth: for besides that, diuers Poets haue written of some, whose life lay in their haire, as Nysus killed by his daughter, and Alcest that could not die til Mercury cut off one haire: and of Dido likewise is said that Iris was sent to cut her haire to rid her out of her paine: besides these (I say) the Scripture testifies of the vertue of Samsons strength to haue bin in his haire, which is as strange for reason as any of the rest.

Here end the notes of the xv. booke.


Stout Griffin finds his subtle mistres straying,
With vile Martano, but is pacifi'd:
The Turks and Christians all their force displaying,
Do fight, on both sides many thousands dyde:
Both man and house by sword and fire decaying,
Do make a wofull sight on either side:
Without the towne the Christians plague the Turkes,
Within fierce Rodomont much mischiefe workes.
GReat paines in loue full many men haue found,
Of which my selfe haue prou'd so great a part,
As by my skill some good may hap redound,
To such as are lesse skilfull in this art:
Wherefore what I affirme with iudgement found,
To breed iust cause of lesse or greater smart,
Beleeue what I set downe for your behoofe,
Probatum est, I know tis trne by proofe.
I do affirme, and haue, and euer shall,
That he that binds himselfe in worthy bands,
Although his mistres shew him grace but small,
Although he find no fauour at her hands,
Sharp words, coy looks, smal thanks, hope none at al,
Though more and more aloofe from him she stands
[...]f this looke in [...]e morall more [...] large. [...]
Yet so his heart and thoughts be highly paced,
He must not mourne, no though he die disgraced.
Let him lament, let him mourne, pine, and die,
Whom wanton wandring eies, whom staring heare,
Haue made a slaue, when vnder them doth lie,
A heart corrupt, a tongue that false will sweare,
Like wounded Deare in vaine he seekes to flie,
And in his thigh the shaft about doth beare,
And this aboue the rest torments him cheefe,
He is asham'd and dares not shew his greefe.
Such was the hap, such was the wofull state,
Of Griffin now possest with foolish loue,
He knew her mind and manners worthy hate,
Yet could not he this fancie fond remoue:
His reason faine his passion would abate,
But appetite is placed her aboue:
That be she near so false, ingrate or nought,
Yet needs of him she must be lou'd and sought.
Away he steales from hence in secret sort,
Nor to his brother once adew doth say,
For feare least that his brother would dehort
Him from her loue, as oft he did assay:
And that his iourney may be cut more short,
He coasts the countrie for the nearest way,
He trauels all the day and halfe the night,
Vntill Damasco came within his sight.
Fast by this towne this trull he ouertooke,
That louingly with her new loue did ride,
And all old frends and louers all forsooke,
He was her Champion, he her onely guide:
A man might boldly sweare it on a booke,
Digu [...]m patella operculum, Or as the English Pr uerbe fasth. Like will to like quoth the divell to the coll [...].
He were a husband fit for such a bride,
He false, vnconstant, trecherous, so was she:
She had a modest looke, and so had he.
He rode all armd vpon a stamping steed,
With guilded barb that cost full many a crowne;
She ware no lesse magnificent a weed,
A rich embrodied purple veluet gowne;
Thus to Damasco ward they do proceed,
Where late there was proclaimed in the towne,
A solemne feast that should endure some dayes,
For iusts, for tilt, for turneyes, and for playes.
Now when the queane good Griffin had espide,
(For whó she knew her squire would be to weake)
Though sore appald, as scant she could it hide,
Least he his wrath on both at once should wreake,
Yet as the time permits she doth prouide,
Consulting with her guide before she speake:
And when they had agre'd how to deceiue him,
With open armes she runneth to receiue him.
And framing then her speech with great regard,
To answer fit vnto her gestures kind,
Deare sir (quoth she) is this the due reward,
My loyall loue to you deserues to find?
That from your sight I should a yeare be bard,
Your sight that soly can content my mind?
You left me greeued with a burning feauer,
But burning more in loue of you for euer.
Where I your comming lookt for long in vaine,
Each houre a day, each month did seeme a yeare,
And of your absence long I did complaine,
Enquiring oft, if I of you could heare:
Alas how full is carefull loue of paine?
So sad mine heart, so heauie was my cheare,
As being in dispaire which way to mend it,
I loth'd my life, and did desire to end it.
But loe how fortune when I looked least,
Hath now prouided me of double aid,
And sent my brother, this most welcome guest,
With whom I haue without dishonour staid,
And now your selfe whose presence makes me blest,
For had your comming longer bene delaid,
So was my heart and soule to you inclined,
That sure for greife I should haue dyde and pined.
Thus flattring words where with her tongue abounds,
Holpe her in so good sort her tale to frame,
That new on him the greater fault redounds,
As glad he was to scuse himselfe fro blame,
And her strong reasons founded on weake ground [...],
Do cleare both her, and him that with her came,
And makes him deemd a kinsman and a brother,
That did his best to make this maide a mother.
So that he did not onely not reproue
Her that so trech'rously had him betraid,
So that he did not wreake as did behoue,
Th'ad alterer that false with her had plaid;
But thinkes it well if he the blame remoue,
Which to his charge so probablie she laid:
And as for him (loue makes him see so blindly)
He calls him kinsman, and salutes him kindly.
Thus Griffin of his loue no whit abates,
But keepes her companie as with his owne,
Vntill they came within Damasco gates,
Where none of them were seene before or knowne.
The towne was full of Lords and greate states,
The rumor of the feast so far was blowne,
Which that they might haue more securely haunted,
The king to all that came sate conduct graunted.
But here I cease to talke of Origill,
He followe [...] booke [...]
And of her mate with her as fitly met,
As knauish iacke could be for whorish gill,
Vnchast and false, as euer water wet:
To flatter and dissemble passing skill,
And all was fish that came into her net:
Now here I leaue good Griffin in her armes,
And turne me to the Turkish men of armes.
I left where Agramant assaulted hard,
A gate which he had hoped to haue found,
But weake and feeble, naked, vnprepard,
And easie to be beaten to the ground:
I told you how king Charles the place did gard,
Inuirond with selected souldiers round;
As namely Guydons strong and Angilero,
With Oton stout Ouolyo Berlingero.
Thus either band in sight of either king,
Doth fight in hope of great reward and praise,
And thinks such honour backe that day to bring,
As should themselues and all their ofspring raise
But such great store of darts the Christns fling,
As still the Turkes are foiled many wayes,
They die, and by their deaths do others teach,
How hurtfull tis to roue beyond their reach.
But 'Rodemont whose men consumd with fire,
Do fill their masters mind with double rage,
Yet to auenge theirs deaths doth so desire,
As nought but blood his thirst of blood can swage:
He spares not in the passion of his ire,
Nor men nor women, order, sex nor age,
Away do runne the silly people crying,
And leaue their children, frends and wiues a dying.
They happie were whose feet did serue them best,
The surie of this cruell Turke to shunne,
For some were killed in the flight, the rest
Vnto the Churches or strong houses runne,
And locke the gates against so fierce a guest,
That in the streetes had so great mischiefe done:
And of them all that had bene slaine in chase,
Not one of them was wounded in the face.
But as the Tyger kills the fearfull Doe,
That but by flight cannot it selfe defend,
Or as the Wolues do spoile the sheepe: eu'n so
This cruell Turke their guiltlesse blood doth spend:
They neither know to strike nor ward a blo,
To hurt their foe nor yet to help their frend:
Thus past the Pagan to S. Michels bridge,
And none there was his passage to abridge.
He kills alike the sinner and the good,
The reuerend father and the harmelesse child,
He spils alike the young and aged blood,
With widowes, wiues, and virgines vndefild,
And though that all did yeeld and none withstood,
Yet mercie from his mind was so exild,
He shewd to such as things can truly valew,
Great signes of crueltie but none of valew.
Nor doth the cruell rage and fury cease,
With seeing of so many people slaine,
But rather still it growes and doth increase,
Against those other that aliue remaine:
Nor graunts he to the Churches any peace,
But eu'n as though the walls could suffer paine;
He maketh furious warres against the walls,
And flings against them store of firie balls.
Their houses all were built in Paris then,
Of timber (and I iudge this present houre
Of bricke and stone there are not sixe of ten)
Which made the Pagan then to bend his powre,
To burne the houses, hauing kild the men:
And though that fire do of it selfe deuoure,
Yet he doth helpe the fire, and ouerthrew them,
And those that lurkt within he spoyld and flue them.
Had Agramant had like successe without,
As had within this wicked Rodomount,
The walls of Paris had not kept him out,
On which so oft he did assay to mount:
But now this while the Angell brought about,
Renaldo stout the flowre of Clarimount,
Both with the English and the Scots supplies,
As secretly as Silence could deuise.
And that they might them more vnwares assaile,
They cast a bridge a league aboue the towne,
And passe the riuer to their best auaile,
And so in battle order comming downe,
Not doubting if their footing do not faile,
To get that day great glorie and renowne:
And still among the rankes Renaldo rides,
And for things needfull euermore prouides.
Two thousand horse in good Duke Edmonds guide,
And thrise two thousand archers he doth send,
To get to Paris on the tother side,
To helpe within the citie to defend:
(The cariages and other lets beside,
To leaue behind a while he doth intend)
These succors greatly helpe the towne within,
And at Saint Dennis gate they let them in.
Renaldo takes the conduct of the rest,
Appointing each his office and his place,
As in his skill and iudgement seemeth best,
Seu'ring each band from other with a space:
And seeing eu'ry one was prone and prest,
As was to be required in such case,
He calleth all the Lords and Leaders chiefe,
And vsd to them this pithy speech and briefe.
My Lords (quoth he) I need not to repeate
[...]ldos oration [...]8. staf. to the
Your weightie bisnesse vnto you at large,
I onely say, you haue iust cause and great,
To giue God thankes, your duties to discharge,
That here hath sent you, where with little sweat,
But giuing on our foes one valiant charge,
You may obtaine true fame and glorie more,
Then all your auncestors obtaind before.
God, onely God that giues and guides good chance,
Hath offerd vnto you this good occasion,
Your names and glories highly to aduance,
Which is in noble minds a strong perswasion:
Behold the Kings of England and of France,
Endangerd greatly by the Turks inuasion,
Shut vp in trenches and in wals with shame,
You may set free to your immortall fame.
The very law of nature and humanitie,
Wils noble hearts to helpe the weake distressed,
But more the lawes and state of Christianitie.
Without your helpe now like to be oppressed,
And right Religion turnd to Turkish vanitie,
Of which what harms wil grow, may soon be guessed
Our temples faire with their foule idols filled,
Our virgins (chast by vow) deflourd and killed.
No meane, no stay, no end will be of slaughter,
Of rapes and rapines wicked and vniust;
No man shall keepe his sister, wife or daughter,
From out the reach of their vnruly lust:
But now if you these sorrowes turne to laughter,
And raise their honor troden in the dust,
They must ow you the freedomes and the liues,
Of them, their friends, their children and their wiues.
In auncient times a laurell Ciuick crowne
To him that sau'd one citizen they gaue,
Ciuica corona.
If then they had such honor and renowne,
How many crownes shall you deserue to haue,
If (not a townsman, but) a noble towne,
And thousand innocents therein you saue [...]
In you it lies them to preserue and cherish,
That (but for you) in wo should pine and perish.
Which if they should (as God forbid they should)
By these vile Saracens be ouerrunne,
Then were the Romaine Empire bought and sold,
The holy Church were spoyld and quite vndone:
In you it is these huge harmes to withhold,
By you alone must this exploit be done,
Tread then this path of praise so large and ample,
Ile leade the way, follow but mine example.
This speech by him pronounc'd with so good spright,
With voice so audible, with comely grace,
Incensed them with such desire to fight,
That tedious seemd to them each little space.
And as we see in riding men delight
To spurre a horse although he runne apace:
So stird Renaldo with this exhortation,
Those of the English and the Scottish nation.
And hauing thus confirmd their forward hearts,
And promist largely in his masters name,
Great recompence to eu'ry mans desarts,
Vnto the riuer walls he closely came,
His armie he deuides in sundry parts,
Least breach of order bring them out of frame.
And with the Irish band he first indents,
To spoile their lodgings, and to rob their tents.
The rest he thus in prudent sort deuides,
The [...]award [...] hath in gouerment,
The Duke of Lancaster the battell guides,
The Duke of Clarence with the rereward went,
[...] with some chosen men besides,
[...] first the charge by generall consent:
This on a sodaine they do raise a shout,
And fild our side with courage, theirs with doubt.
[...] riding out afore the rest,
(With [...]rd to do as much as he had said)
Puts spurs to horse and sets his speare in rest,
His onely sight the Pagans greatly fraid,
With fainting hearts pale lookes and panting brest,
They shew most certaine signes of minds dismaid,
Yet stout king Pulians shewes no token,
Of heart astonished or courage broken.
But trusting to his strength, and void of foare,
And ranging out in sight of all his band,
He met him man to man, and speare to speare,
He met him horse to horse, and hand to hand:
But straight it plainly was discerned theare,
Sleight without force in little steed doth stand:
This kind of fight was of a rougher sort,
Then running of a course at til [...] in sport.
Thus was king Pulian ouerthrowne and tane,
To [...] small tenor of the Pagan host,
Next came the king (that giant) of Oran,
That of his goodly stature much doth best,
But soone Renaldo brought him to his bane,
His horse his weapon, and his life he lost;
The horse was glad to find himselfe enlarged,
And of his heauy burden to discharged.
Not was Renaldo of his sword more spare,
Then [...] before himselfe he shewd,
His blade [...] purced to the bare.
When he his thrusts or deadly blowes bestowd:
No shields no coates of so good temper are,
Nor cloth in hundred [...] together sowd,
That this same fatall blade of his withstood,
But that at cu'ry blow it fetcht the blood.
Nor did [...]erbino merit common praise,
That of his value shewd that day good proofe,
He met the stoutest Turkes at all assayes,
On horse, on foote, at hand, and farre aloofe,
Attempting and performing sundry waves,
That might be for their harme and his behoofe:
And all his band in fight was fierce and hot,
As is the nature of the valiant Scot.
And thus their firy heate and courage bold,
Well shewd by blowes they to the Pagans gaue,
Did make their stomacks faint, their courage cold,
And glad in th'end by flight themselues to saue:
For S [...]brin one in yeares and iudgement old,
(Though no lesse stout the these lesse age that haue)
Doth now a little with his band retire,
To shun the fury of the Scottish fire.
The worthy Dukes of Albanie and Mar,
Ensude in valiant sort the good successe,
And with the same preuailed had so far,
As they had brought the Turkes to great distresse,
Till Isolir the new king of Nauar,
Came with his band their fury to represse,
And on that side the battell did restore,
Almost now lost, at least declind before.
Then grew the fight on both sides firme and stable,
Both sides defend, both sides alike inuade,
They cast on both sides darts innumerable,
And make there with a darke vnpleasing shade:
Leonida [...] same, being [...] that the [...] shot came [...] as [...] see the [...] them, [...] merely, the [...] shall fight [...] shade.
An endlesse worke it were to write the table,
The Christens kild with bow, with bill, with blade,
Sometime the sway goeth hither, sometime thether,
Like waters driu'n with doubtfull tides and wether.
When one is slaine, his roome another fils,
When one is hurt, another takes his place,
And he that now another smites and kils,
*Fals dead himselfe within a little space:
His [...] deder at, [...] longin the [...] & express quas accepte [...] auras. O [...] Met [...].
Great heapes of bodies dead make little hils,
The earth it selfe doth looke with bloudy face,
The greene wherewith it erst was ouerspred,
Did [...]urne to sanguin and vermilion red.
My pen would faile, and skill would be too scant,
To tell the famous acts that Zerbin wrought,
How his new brother. noble Ariodant,
A fresh supply against the Pagans brought,
And how still one supplying tothers want,
Against the Turks with mutuall forces fought,
Then namely when the Prince was almost slaine,
By bastards two of Aragon in Spaine.
Chelindo one, the other Mosco hight,
These two at once on Zerbin bent their force,
In hope that if their hands could hit aright,
To wound him sore, or at the least vnhorse,
They wound him not, yet forst him to alight,
For vnder him so sore they hurt his horse,
To serue his Lord he was no longer able,
But made the field his euerlasting stable.
This foile and fall his courage more do whet,
To lose the seruice of his trustie steed,
But from the saddle quickly he doth get,
His losse his wrath, his wrath reuenge doth breed:
He meanes not long to tarry in their debt,
That to his horse did this vnworthy deed,
And first he gaue to Mosco such a thrust,
As made him tumble senslesse in the dust.
But when Chelindo saw his brother ded,
Reuenge and feare in him together straue,
His inward feare prouokt him to haue fled,
Himselfe from danger imminent to saue,
But straight reuenge another humor bred.
Expelling feare, and makes him bold and braue,
He spurs his horse in hope to ouertunne him,
But Zerbin slightly steps aside to shunne him.
And such a blow he lent him as he past,
Vpon his shoulders from the reredemaine,
That horse and man vnto the ground were cast,
Whence neither of them rose aliue againe:
And now the Spanish band came in so fast,
As noble Zerbin had almost bin slaine,
But Ariodante then himselfe besturd,
And makes an open lane by dint of sword.
The while, the Duke of Clarence doth assaile,
Their rere that was by Baricondo led,
The English archers shoot as thick as haile,
Which to their horsemen great annoyance bred,
On eu'ry side the Christens do preuaile,
On eu'ry side the fearfull Pagans fled,
Great store were slaine, and many prisners taken,
Their battell now declined sore and shaken.
And had bin lost had not Ferraw by chance
Come to their aid as yong Olimpio fell,
Slaine by a knight of Scotland or of France,
A cruell knight, whose name I cannot tell:
Ferraw was sore aggriue'd at this mischance,
He knew this youth, and lou'd him passing well,
Because his skill in musick was so choice,
Both for sweet stroke, and for his pleasing voice.
Had not the humor of ambition vaine,
With crotchets new his foolish fancie fild,
He might haue better staid at home in Spaine,
Then come abroad to be in battell kild:
But thus we see they get but losse and paine,
That deale in that in which they be not skild,
I wish musitions meddle with their songs,
And pray the souldiers to reuenge their wrongs.
Ferraw that saw ten thousand slaine before,
Without or fetching sigh or shedding teare,
With this his minions death was grieu'd so sore,
As scarce he could eu'n then to weepe forbeare,
But he that kild him shall abuy therefore,
By Macon and Lanfusa he doth sweare,
And straight performd it to the knights great paine,
For with his pollax out he dasht his braine.
Nor so content, he runs among the presse,
And in his rage so many Scots he slew,
That their late forwardnesse he did represse,
And causd that they in hast themselues withdrew:
Then to the tents was sent the king of Fefte,
To make resistance to the Irish crew,
That spoild their lodgings hauing robd the best,
And went about to set on fire the rest.
Then when the stout King Agramant espide,
The danger great he and his men were in,
And how these new supplies on eu'ry side,
Made his retire, and ground of them did win:
To saue his owne in time he doth prouide,
And lets alone the wals and them within,
Himselfe with Lords and other Princes store,
Came where Ferraw was entred late before.
And in such strength they do their forces linke,
And with such fury they restore the fight,
That now the Scots began to faile and shrinke,
Renaldos encou­ragement of the Scots.
Saue that Renaldo came eu'n then in sight,
And cride, O worthy Scots, and do you thinke
To saue your selues by so vnworthy flight?
Will you so leese the honor late you wonne?
Care you no more to saue your masters sonne?
Do you regard no more your reputation,
By you in sundry bloudy battels got,
To le [...]ue the flowre and iewell of your nation,
Amid his foes as if you lou'd him not?
Ye shame your selues and all your generation,
If you distaine you with so foule a blot,
Turne, turne I say, and take some heart of grace,
And meet and smite these Panims in the face.
They that before were sore with feare possest,
Were now so heartned, that with honest shame,
Each one doth seeme his safetie to detest,
Each one his mind with anger doth inflame,
And where they left their captaine halfe distrest,
With this so forward guide as fast they came:
So Zerbin rescude was from Turkish forces,
And mounted straight one of the emptie horses.
Renaldo that did euer take delight
To set on those that were most strong and sto [...]t,
When once king Agramant was come in sight,
Him fro the rest forthwith he singles out:
But when betweene them was begun the fight,
They sundred were by those that stood about,
I meane the Turks, who their chief Prince defended,
Who else perhap his raigne eu'n then had ended.
Now while without the wals the battell so,
On either side with fury was renewd,
Fierce Rodomont within did worke such wo,
More rufull sight with eye was neuer vewd;
To wracke profane the holy temples go,
He setteth fire on all, and to conclude,
He did alone so spoile the goodly citie,
As might haue mou'd a stony heart to pitie.
And while King Charles that was farre off from thence,
Did entertaine the new come English host,
The which Renaldo sent for their defence)
Behold there came a messenger in post,
That lookt like one bestraught of wit and sence,
His voice with hast and feare was welnigh lost,
And when his broken words were pl [...]ly hard,
Ah well away (he cries) we all are mard.
Some fi [...]nd of hell (for sure a fiend of hell
It is that doth our citie so destroy)
Is sent from Belzebub with vs to dwell,
To worke our vtter ruine and annoy:
This day we must bid all good dayes farewell,
This day must be the last day of our ioy,
Lo yonder how our sacred temples smoke,
Nor one in their defence dares strike a stroke.
Looke how a man would be amazd to heare
A noise confusd of backward ringing bels,
And after find, when he approcheth neare,
New set on fire his house wherein he dwels;
In such amazement and in such a feare
Was Charles to heare the tale this poore man tels,
And as he thither nearer came and nearer,
He sees the buildings clearer burne and clearer.
Of hardie Squires he culs a gallant crew,
And meanes to driue away this wicked wight,
If man it be, or spright with humane hew,
That doth vnto the towne this soule despight:
Now came he where he plaine might see in vew,
Men murdred, houses burnd, a wofull sight.
But now although perhap my storie please you,
To pawse a little may refresh and ease you.

Moral.In the person of Griffino is described a yong man besotted with loue and affection of a vile strumpet, so as she easily perswades him, that he that indeed kept her so openly, as all the world spake of it, was her brother, or her cosingerman, or some such matter as easily blinded his eyes, being bleared afore with affection: and in this kind, though I meane to touch none by name, yet I doubt not but many will feele themselues touched of both sorts; such as Griffino, that place their loue in vnworthy persons: and such as Martano, that vnder the name of kinred, are most vile and filthy adulterers, which how common it is now a dayes, this saying shewes, turned now almost to a prouerbe, The nearer of kin, the sooner in: and that verse of Ouid, translated, or pretily turned by a pleasant Gentleman to this purpose,

Tuta frequénsque via est sub amici fallere nomen,
Tuta frequénsque licet sit via crimen habet.
A safe and common way it is by kinred to deceaue,
But safe and common though it be, tis knau'ry by your leaue.

The great aphorisme or maxime set downe in the two last verses of the second staffe of this booke, was imitated by a Gentleman of our countrey in his yonger dayes,Master Edward Dier a [...]. though a man euer of great wit and worth: his verse was this,Master Edward Dier a [...].

He that hath plast his heart on hie,
Must not lament although he die.

To which purpose, all that haue written of this common place of loue, and chiefly Petrark in his infinite sonets, in the mid­d [...]st of all his lamentation, still had this comfort, that his loue was placed on a worthy Ladie: and our English Petrarke, Sir Philip Sidney, or (as Sir Walter Raulegh in his Epitaph worthily calleth him) the Scipio and the Petrarke of our time, often comforting himselfe in the sonets of Stella, though despairing to attaine his desire, and (though that tyrant hon [...] still refused) yet the nobilitie, the beautie, the worth, the graciousnesse, and those her other perfections, as made him both count her and call her inestimable rich; makes him in the midst of those his mones, reioyce euen in his owne grea­test losses, as in his eighteenth sonet, which many I am sure haue read:

With what sharpe checks I in my selfe am shent,
When into reasons recknings I do go,
And by such counts, my selfe a bankrout know,
Of all those goods which heau'n to me hath lent,
Vnable quite to pay eu'n natures rent,
Which vnto it by birthright I did ow,
And which is worse, no good excuse can show,
But that my wealth I haue most idly spent:
My youth doth wast, my knowledge brings forth toyes,
My wit doth striue tho'e passions to defend,
With my reward (spoyled with vaine annoyes)
I find my course to loose it selfe doth bend:
I see, yet do no greater sorrow take,
Then that I leese no more for Stellas sake.

And this much of this matter of love. In the conflict at Paris gate, in presence of both Princes, we may note how the Ge­nerall eye is a great encouragement to the souldier. In Renaldos oration, we may obserue that eloquence and learning is not onely a great ornament, but sometime a great aid to a Captaine. And for the speech it selfe, it is both pithy and methodicall. For being (as they terme it) of the deliberatiue kind, it layes downe (though briefly, yet plainly if you mark it) the facilitie,Historie. the commendation, the vtilitie, and the necessitie of that to which he perswades them.

For historicall matter, there is litle in this booke, only where he touches the weake buildings of Paris, being built so high and so sleight, it is euident they are so at this day, and doubtlesse it is a great blot in a magnificent citie to see browne paper houses, which were a matter easily redressed in one age: as Augustus Caesar did at Rome, forbidding them to build but with stone, and making great prouision for stuffe and cariage for such as would build, at a reasonable price, as Sue­tonius setteth downe at large: but this is not much to the purpose.

Allegorie.Whereas Silence is said to be sent by God, with an Angell to conduct the Christian succors to Paris: by the Angell is meant allegorically Gods assistance and grace, without which no victories can be obtained: and by Silence is vnder­stood wise secretnesse, to conceale our intent from our enemies, which is a great furtherance in warre.

Allusion.For the Allusion of Martano, I referre it to the next booke, where his cowardize is more largely touched.

The end of the Annotations of the sixteenth Booke.


Fierce Rodomont leaue Paris is constraind,
Martano at Damasco tilts most vyly,
Stout Griffin thinks his running thereby staind,
And goes fro thence, the while Martano slyly
Doth steale his coat and horse, and so obtaind
Great guifts, and of the king is graced highly:
But Griffin taken in Martanos clothing,
Receiues disgrace, each one his presence lothing.
THe most iust God, when once mans sins do grow
Beyond the boúds of par­don and of grace,
Because that mé his iudge­ments iust may know,
Of Syll [...] & Ma­rius cruelise read Plutark in their liues
No lesse then loue, to rule on earth doth place,
Helisgabalus sir named Varius, for his monstrous lecherie, and his [...] therein.
Vile Monsters such as ty­rannize vs so,
With wrong the right, with lust they lawes deface:
For this same c [...]use were Sylla sent and Marius,
The Nerons both, and filthie minded Varius.
Antoninus Bas­sianus slaine for his beast [...] and [...]rueltie, for which his name [...] so odious, that none was euer after him, so called.
For this Domician held in Rome the raigne,
And Antoninus of that name the last,
And Massimin a base vnworthie swaine,
To plague mankind in Princely throne was plast:
For this in Thebs did cruell Creon raigne,
With other tyrants more in ages past,
For this of late hath Italie beene wonne,
By men of Lumbardie, of Goth and Hunne.
Of Esselin I spake before in the notes of the third booke.
What should I of vniust Attyla speake?
Of Esselin, and of an hundred more?
Whom God doth send his anger iust to wreake,
On vs that still neglect his sacred lore.
The times forepast long since, the present cake,
Of such examples yeelds vs wofull store,
How we vnthankfull and vnfruitfull sheepe.
Are giu'n to hungrie rau'ning Wolues to keepe.
He means herby Lodwickt [...], that cal­led in Charls the 8 out of France [...] Italie.
Such Wolues as would not onely by their wills,
Seaze all our goods and substance as their pray,
But also send beyond the Alps high hills,
For other Wolues more hunger staru'd then thay:
Thra [...] bia and [...] were the [...] where [...] the [...] where [...]
The bones of men that Thrasimeno fills;
The fights of Treb and Cannas are but play,
If with our bloodie slaughters they compare,
Of Adda, Mela, Ronco, and of Tare.
No doubt God in heau'nly throne that sits,
And thence our deeds and thoughts doth plainly see
Vs to be spoild and conquerd thus permits,
By those that are perhaps as ill as we:
But if to please him we would bend our wits,
Then from these foes he soone would set vs free,
And we should see their punishment er long,
That vs oppresse by villanie and wrong.
But now to turne from whence I did digresse,
I told you how when Charles the news had hard,
Of houses burnd, and men in great distresse,
By him that doth nor God nor man regard,
Vnto their aid he doth himselfe addresse,
And chuse some speciall men to be his guard,
And meeting such as fled, their course he staid,
And these or such like words to them he said.
O simple fooles, what meane you hence to runne?
Turne backe for shame, turne backe and do not fly,
You chuse the greater ill the lesse to shunne,
To liue with shame, and may with honor dy,
What citie haue you left when this is wonne?
What hope is left a fortune new to try?
Shall one vile Pagan bost another day,
That he alone bath d [...]u'n you all away?
This said, he came vnto the pallace gate,
Where now the Pagan Prince triumphant stood,
Most like a serpent fierce that hath of late,
His old skin cast and left it in the wood,
Reioycing now of his renewed state,
Of his fresh strength, of young and lustie blood,
He shewes his forked tongue and comes apace,
And eu'rie beast that sees him giues him place.
Thus scornfull and thus proud the Pagan stands,
With threats to spoile the Pallace and deface,
And not a man that once his force withstands,
Vntill king Charles appeared in the place;
Who looking on his old victorious hands,
Said thus: and is now alterd so the case,
That these my hands that wonted were to win,
To yeeld and to be faint should now begin?
Why should the strength, the vigor and the might,
That I was wont in you to feele now faile?
Shall this same Panim dogge eu'n in my sight,
My people slay, my dwelling house assaile?
No, first on me a thousand deaths alight,
No death can make a princely heart to quaile;
And with that word with couched speare in rest,
He runnes and smites the Pagan on the brest.
And straight the other of the chosen crew,
On eu'rie side the Pagan do beset,
[...]he xviij staff. 5
But how he scapt, and what did then ensew,
Another time ile tell, but not as yet:
For first some matters past I must renew,
And namely Griffin I may not forget,
And craftie Origilla with the tother,
That was her bedfellow and not her brother.
These three vnto Damasco came togither,
The fair'st and richest towne of all the East,
What time great lords and knights repaired thither,
Allured by the same of such a feast.
I told you from the holy citie hither,
Was fiue or sixe dayes iourney at the least:
But all the townes about both small and great,
Are not like this for state and fruitfull seat.
For first, beside the cleare and temprat aire,
Not noid with sommers heat nor winters cold,
There are great store of buildings large and faire,
Of carued stone most stately to behold,
The streetes all pau'd where is their most repaire,
And all the ground is of so fruitfull mold,
That all the yeare their spring doth seeme to last,
And brings them store of fruites of daintie tast.
Aboue the Citie lies a little hill,
That shades the morning sunne in erly houres,
Of waters sweet (which here we vse to still)
They make such store with spice and iuyce of flowrs
As for the quantitie might driue a mill,
Their gardens haue faire walkes and shady bowrs:
But (that which chiefe maintaineth all the sweets)
Two christall streames do runne a mid the streets.
Such was the natiue beautie of the towne:
But now because they looke for great resort,
Of Princes and of Lords of great renowne,
They decke their citie in another sort:
Each Ladie putteth on her richest gowne,
Each house with Arras hang'd in stately port:
The noble youths do stand vpon comparison,
Whose horse doth best, who weares the best caparis [...]
Thus Griffin and his mates come to this place,
And first they view these shows with great delight,
And after they had rode a little space,
A curteous squire perswades them to alight,
And praieth them to do his house that grace,
To eate and take their lodgings there that night:
They thanke him for his kind an friendly offer,
And straight accept the courtsie he doth profer.
They had set downe before them costly meat,
Of sundrie wines there was no little store,
Of precious fruits the plentie was so great,
As they had seldome seene the like before:
The while their host doth vnto them repeat,
The cause of all this feasting, and wherefore
The king appointed all these solemne sports,
To draw togither knights of sundrie sorts.
But Griffin (though he came not for this end,
For praise and brauerie at tilt to runne,
But came to find his fleeting female frend)
Yet was his courage such he would not shunne,
In these braue sports some little time to spend,
Where of well doing honor might be wonne,
He promist straight though little were his leasure,
Before he go to see and shew some pleasure.
And first he asketh farther of the feast,
If it were new ordaind, or else of old?
His host replieth thus (my worthie guest)
I shall in briefe to you this thing vnfold:
Our Prince the greatest Prince in all the East,
Hath newly pointed this great feast to hold;
This is the first, but all of his retinew,
Mind ech fourth month this custome to continew.
In token of great gladnes and great ioy,
By all the citie is the feast begunne,
In token of the danger and annoy,
That Norandin (our king) did lately shunne,
Horandine, Here beginneth the tale of Luci­na at this 20 ft. and endeth as the 50.
Lockt vp foure months where he could not enioy
The vse of earth, of water, aire nor sunne:
Yet at the four months end by hap he scaped
The death, with yawning mouth on him that gaped.
(But plaine to shew you whence did come the seed,
Of which this danger seemed first to grow)
Loue did to Norandin this danger breed,
The king of Cypres daughter pleasd him so,
Because her beautie did the rest exceed,
To see her,
Caesars word was vent [...] vice.
needs (in person) he would go:
He saw, he likt, he woode, he wun, he marrid her,
And homward then by ship he would haue carid her
But lo a wind and tempest rose so sore,
As three dayes space they looked to be drownd,
And made them land vpon an vnknowne shore,
Where straight we pitcht our tents vpon the ground,
And (for of trees and grasse there was good store)
The King in hope some venson to haue found,
Into the next adioyning wood doth goe,
Two pages beare his quiuer and his boe.
His meaning was some stag or buck to kill,
We wait his comming in the tent at ease,
When suddenly such noise our eares doth fill,
As winds in woods, and waues do make in seas,
And ay more nie vs it approched, till
We plaine might see vnto our sore disease,
A monster huge that ran along the sand,
Destroying all that in the way did stand.
This Orke (for so men do the monster call)
Directed straight his course vpon our tent,
His eyes were out, how ere it did befall,
But yet he was so quicke and sharpe of sent,
As all his blindnesse holpe not vs at all,
He hunteth like a spaniell by the vent,
His sent is such as none can hope to shunne him,
His pace is such as no man can outrunne him.
Thus whether they prepar'd to fight or fly,
Or whether feare both sight and flight did let,
He takes them as his prisners by and by,
Of fortie, ten scarce to the ship could get,
Among the other prisners tane was I,
Whilst I our Queene in safetie would haue set,
But all in vaine to flie, it did not boote,
He was so quicke of sent, aud swift of foote.
As shepheards hang a wallet at their wast,
So at his gudle hangs a mightie sacke,
In which the better sort of vs he plast,
The rest he bound together in a packe,
And to his caue that was most huge and vast,
He beares vs (hopelesse euer to come backe)
A comely matron in this den he had,
Maids faire and foule, some poore, some richly clad.
Beside this female family of his,
He hath a caue wherein he keepes his flocke,
That caue in length and largenesse passeth this,
Made all by hand out of the stonie rocke:
And (for mans flesh his chiefest daintie is)
Into the caue he safely doth vs locke,
The while he leades abroade his goates and sheepe,
Which in the fields adioyning he doth keepe.
The King not knowing this, returned backe,
The silence that he found some feare did breed:
But when he found his wife and men were lacke,
He then to sea did hast him with great speed:
He sees plaine signes of hast, of spoyle, of wracke,
Yet knowes he not the author of this deed,
Vntill he had his ship by hap recouered,
Then by his men the fact was plaine discouered.
When he had heard at last the wofull newes,
How greatly was his heart surprysd with griefe?
What gods, what fortune did he not accuse?
For all his losses but Lucyna chiefe?
But dangers all and death he first will chuse,
Ere he then leaue his loue without reliefe,
He either will her libertie procure,
Or else he will like chance with her endure.
He leaues his ship and goes by land apace,
There where the monster had his loue conuaid,
And often wailes her hard and wofull case,
Desiring and despairing of her aid.
Now came he in the kenning of the place,
And stands twixt halfe amazd and halfe afraid:
At last he enters (loue expelling feare)
When by good hap the monster was not there.
His wife was there, who with compassion moued,
Admonisht him to make but little stay,
But hasten thence if so his life he loued,
Lest that her husband find him in the way:
Yet from his purpose this him not remoued,
But to the sober matron he doth say,
In vaine you seeke to driue me hence by terror,
Desire hath hither brought me, and not error.
By my ill hap while I abroade was riding,
The Orko bare away my dearest wife,
I hither come of her to heare some tiding,
Or hauing lost my loue, to leese my life,
I care not I, if she in life be biding,
If she be dead, my death shall end this strife,
Loue in this point so resolute hath made me,
You should but leese your labour to distwade me.
The gentle matron in this sort replies,
Know this, thy wife in safetie doth remaine,
But hard it is to compasse or deuise,
Which way to get her from his hand againe,
His want of fight, his passing sent supplies,
To striue with him by force it were but vaine,
He spoileth men, but women do not die,
Saue onely such as striue away to flie.
But those he finds his companie to shunne,
With hatred gr [...]e doth for ay pursew,
Some he doth hang ail naked in the sunne,
And day by day their torments doth renew;
And some immediatly to death are done,
Both yong and old, both foule or faire of hew,
So that to seeke to set Lucyna free,
May harme her much, and little profit thee.
Wherefore my sonne depart the while thou may,
(The matron saith) Lucyna shall not die,
For hither shortly he will her conuay,
Where she shall fare no worse then these and I,
Depart? (quoth he) nay here I mind to stay,
And fall what shall, I will my fortune trie,
And if my hap be such I cannot free her,
At least I meane before I die to see her.
The matrons mind with much compassion moued,
To see his louing and most constant mind,
That from his purpose would not be remoued,
To bring him aid and comfort was inclind:
And then she told him how it him behoued,
If so to see his wife he had assignd,
To vse some such deuice as she would tel him,
That when the Ork should come be might not smel him.
She had that hanged in the houses roofe,
The hairie skins of many a bearded goate,
And knowing best what was for his behoofe,
Of one of them she makes him make a coate,
And with goates suet for a further proofe,
To noint his body from the foote to throate:
And in this sort his shape and sauour hiding,
He commeth to the place where we were biding.
Now night drew neare, his horne the Orke doth blow,
And all his heards came backe vnto his sold,
And Norandin among the goates doth go,
And enters in, loue maketh him so bold,
The Orko shuts the doore, and leaues vs so,
Shut vp as safe as in a towre or hold,
Then doth the king at large vnto his louer,
His comming and the meanes thereof discouer.
[...] doth not onely not reioyce,
To see her husband come thus strangely clad,
But with most lamentable mournfull voyce,
She blamd him that such perill venterd had,
And sweares that if she might haue had her choyce,
She would alone haue felt this fortune bad,
And that before it somewhat easd her paine,
To thinke that he in safetie did remaine.
Thus said Lucina faire with watred eies,
As seeming now more dolefull then before;
But Norandino in this sort replies,
Thinkst thou my deare I loued thee no more?
Yes sure, and will eu'n now a meane deuise
Both thee and these to freedome to restore,
And to deliuer from this seruile slauery,
By helpe of this same skin and grease vnsauery.
And straight he taught vs as himselfe had tride,
Each one to kill a goate and take the skin,
And outwardly to weare the hairy hide,
And to be nointed with the grease within.
Thus eu'ry one doth for himselfe prouide,
Before the sunne did yet to shine begin,
Then came the Orke and mou'd away the stone,
And out the bearded goates came one and one.
The smelling Orko at the doore doth stand,
We past like goates and make no noise nor speech,
Yet oft he groped with his hideous hand,
But poore Lucina could not chuse but skreech;
Or that he hapt to touch her with his wand,
Or else too roughly pawd her by the breech,
So back he puts her straight, and locks her vp,
And sweares that she should drinke a sory cup.
Himselfe driues out his flocke (as wont he was)
And we like goates among the goates do keepe,
And when as they were feeding on the grasse,
The monstrous heardman laid him downe to sleepe.
Thus we escapt, but our good King alas,
(That mist his loue) doth nought but waile & weep
And saue that still he hopt of her reliefe.
He would no doubt haue dide of very griefe.
At night he turneth back with like desire,
As he before had come to set her sree,
And he conceales himselfe with like attire,
From him that wants his instrument to see.
The Orke inflam'd with cruell rage and ire,
And finds himselfe deceiued thus to be,
This recompence he points her for her paines,
Vpon that hill to hang each day in chaines.
A cruell doome, but who could it resist?
Away went we, each for himselfe afraid,
But Noranaino euer doth persist
In his first purpose of procuring aid,
Lamenting that so narrowly he mist
To [...]g her out, among the goates he staid,
And like a goate (forgetting his estate)
He go'th out early, and returneth late.
She sees him go and come, but all in vaine,
She maketh signes to him to haue him part,
He constantly resolueth to remaine,
The loue of her possesseth so his hart,
Despising danger and enduring paine,
He hopeth hopelesse still to ease her smart,
At foure [...]onths end (good fortune so prepard)
Gradasso in [...]er came and Mandricard.
And (for her father was their louing frend)
They gaue this bold attempt to set her free,
And to her father straight they do her send,
Who was full glad and ioyfull her to see,
And that her daungers had this happie end:
But Norandino was more glad then he;
Who with the goats no longer now did stay,
But [...]hile the Orko slept he stale away.
And now for ioy of this great perill past,
In which he stayd so wofull and forlorne,
And that the memorie therof may last,
To those that shalbe, and are yet vnborne,
(For neuer Prince before such wo did tast,
Nor stayd so long in miserie and scorne,
And it shalbe iust sixteene weeks tomorow,
That he remained in this wo and sorow.)
Therfore I say the king prepares this sport,
With verie great magnificence and bost,
Inuiting hither men of eu'rie sort,
Such as in chiualrie excell the most,
That far and neare may carie the report,
Of these great triumphs vnto eu'rie cost.
This tale the courteous host did tell his guest,
Of him that first ordaind the sumptuous feast.
In this and such like talke they spend the night,
And then they sleepe vpon their beds of downe,
But when that once it shined cleare and light,
The trumpets sounded ouer all the towne,
And Griffin straight puts on his armor bright,
Aspiring after same and high renowne;
His leud companion likewise doth the same,
To shew a hope as well as he of fame.
All armed thus they came vnto the field,
And view the warlike troupes as they did passe,
Where some had painted on their crest and shield,
Or some deuice that there described was,
What hope or doubt his loue to him did yeeld,
They all were Christens then, but now alas,
They all are Turks vnto the endlesse shame,
Of those that may and do not mend the same.
For where they should employ their sword and lance,
Against the Infidels our publike foes,
Gods word and true religion to aduance,
They to poore Christens worke perpetuall woes:
To you I write, ye kings of Spaine and France,
Let these alone, and turne your force on those:
And vnto you also I write as much,
Ye nations fierce, Zwizzers I meane and Dutch.
[...] great was the first [...] was called the most Christian King for [...]ending the Church of Rome.
Lo, tone of Christen kings vsurps a name,
Another Catholike will needs be called:
Why do not both your deeds declare the same?
Why are Christs people slaine by you and thralled?
Get backe againe Ierusalem for shame,
That now the Turke hath tane from you and walled
Ferdinands was the first [...] was called Catholike, for driuing the Moores out of Granaia.
Constantinople get that famous towne,
That erst belonged to th'Imperiall crowne.
Dost not thou Spaine confront with Affrike shore,
That more then Italy hath thee offended?
Yet to her hart thou leauest that before,
Against the Infidels thou hadst intended:
O Italy a slaue for euermore,
In such sort mard as neuer can be mended,
A slaue to slaues, and made of sinne a sinke,
And lotted sleepe like men orecome with drinke.
Ye Swizzers fierce, if feare of famine driue you,
To come to Lombardie to seeke some food,
Are not the Turks as neare? why should it grieue you
To spill your foes, and spare your brothers blood?
They haue the gold and riches to relieue you,
Enrich your selues with lawfull gotten good,
So shall all Europe be to you beholding,
For driuing them from these parts and withholding.
This [...]ras Lee the [...].
Thou Lion stout that holdst of heau'n the kayes,
(A waightie charge) see that from drowsie sleepe
Thou wake our realme, and bring her ioyfull dayes,
And from these forren wolues it safely keepe,
God doth thee to this height of honor raise,
That thou mayst feed and well defend thy sheepe,
That with a roring voice and mighty arme,
Thou mayst withhold thy flock from eu'ry harme.
But whither roues my rudely rolling pe [...],
That waxe so sawcie to reproue such peeres?
I said before that in Damasco then
They Christend were (as in records appeares)
So that the armor of their horse and men
Was like to ours (though changd of later yeares)
And Ladies fild their galleries and towrs,
To see the iusts as they did here in ours.
Each striues in shew his fellow to exceed,
And to be gallant in his mistris sight,
To see each one manage his stately steed,
Was to the standers by a great delight:
Some praise vnto themselues, some shame do breed,
By shewing horses doings wrong or right,
The chiefest prize that should be of this tilt,
An armor was rich, set with stone and gilt.
By hap a merchant of Armenia found
This armour, and to Norandin it sold,
Who, had he knowne how good it was and sound,
Would not haue left it sure for any gold,
(The circumstance I cannot now expound,
I meane ere long it shall to you be told)
Now must I tell of Griffin that came in,
Iust when the sport and tilting did begin.
Eight valiant knights the chalenge did sustaine,
Against all commers that would runne that day,
These eight were of the Princes priuate traine,
Of noble blood, and noble eu'ry way,
They fight in sport, but some in sport were slaine,
For why as hotly they did fight in play,
As deadly foes do fight in battell ray,
Saue that the King may when he list them stay.
Now Griffins fellow was Martano named,
Who (though he were a coward and a beast)
Like bold blind Bayard he was not ashamed,
To enter like a knight among the rest,
His countenance likewise in shew he framed,
As though he were as forward as the best,
And thus he stood and viewd a bitter fight,
Between a Baron and another Knight.
Lord of Seleucia the tone they call,
And one of eight that did maintaine the iust,
The Knight Ombruno hight of person tall,
Who in his vizer tooke so great a thrust,
That from his horse astonied he did fall,
And with his liuely blood distaind the dust:
This sight amazd Martano in such sort,
He was afraid to leese his life in sport.
Soone after this so fierce conflict was done,
Another challenger straight steppeth out,
With whom Martano was requird to runne,
But he (whose heart was euer full of doubt)
With fond excuses sought the same to shunne,
And shewd himselfe a faint and dastard lout,
Till Griffin egd him on, and blam'd his feare,
As men do set a mastiue on a Beare.
Then tooke he heart of grace, and on did ride,
And makes a little florish with his speare,
But in the middle way he stept aside,
For feare the blow would be too big to beare:
Yet one that would seeke this disgrace to hide,
Might in this point impure it not to feare,
But rather that his horse not good and redie,
Did shun the tilt, and ranne not eu'n nor stedie.
[...]benes an [...]ut Orator
But after with his sword he dealt so ill,
Demosthenes him could not haue defended,
He shewd both want of courage and of skill,
So as the lookers on were all oftended,
And straight with hissing and with voices shrill,
The conflict cowardly begun was ended:
In his behalfe was Griffin sore ashamed,
His heart thereto with double heate inflamed.
For now he sees how much on him it stands,
With double value to wipe out the blot,
And shew himselfe the more stout of his hands,
Sith his companion shewd himselfe a sot,
His fame or shame must flie to forren lands,
And if he now should faile one little iot,
The same wold seem a foule and huge transgression,
His mate had fild their minds with such impression.
The first he met Lord of Sidona hight,
And towards him he runs with massie speare,
And gaue a blow that did so heauie light,
As to the ground it did him backward beare:
Then came of Laodice another knight,
On him the staffe in peeces three did teare,
Yet was the counterbuffe thereof so great,
The knight had much ado to keepe his seate.
But when they came with naked swords to trie,
Which should the honor and the prise obtaine,
So Griffin did with deadly strokes him plie,
At last he left him stom'd on the plaine.
Straightway two valiant brothers standing by,
That at Griffino tooke no small disdaine,
The tone Corimbo, tother Tirse hight,
These two forthwith do challenge him to fight.
Successiuely them both he ouerthrew,
And now men thought that he the prise would win,
But Salintern that saw them downe in vew,
To enuie good Griffino doth begin,
This man the stoutst of all the courtly crew,
Doth take a speare in hand, and enters in,
And to the combat Griffin straight defies,
And scornes to haue a stranger win the prize.
But Griffin chose one staffe among the rest,
The biggest and the strongest of a score,
And with the same he pierceth backe and brest,
That downe he fell and neuer stirred more;
[...]ames the [...]are those [...]the prin [...]e [...]
The King that loued and esteemd him best,
Laments his death, and maketh mone therefore,
But yet the common sort were faine and glad,
That knew his mind and manners were but bad.
Next after him two others he doth meat,
Ermofilo the captaine of his guard,
And Carmond Admirall of all his fleet,
With these a while he had a conflict hard,
The first vnhorst was left vpon his feet,
The other with a blow was almost mard.
Thus of eight challengers remaind but one,
The rest were quite subdude by him alone.
This one was he of whom at first I spake,
Lord of Seleucia a valiant man,
This one to Griffin did resistance make,
And long it was ere ought of him he wan,
But one blow on his head so fierce he strake,
As he likewise to stagger now began,
Had not the King made them to haue bene parted,
Sure Griffin had him kild ere he had parted.
Thus all those eight, that all the world defide,
By one alone were vanquished and slaine,
So as the King was forced to prouide,
An order new for those that do remaine;
(By parting runners some on either side)
For yet was spent not past an houre or twaine,
Lest this his triumph should haue end too soone,
He makes them spend therein the afternoone.
But Griffin full of wrath and discontent,
Backe to his host with his companion came,
The praise he wan did him not so content,
As he was grieu'd at his companions shame:
Wherefore to leaue the towne they do consent,
While men were busie looking on the game,
And to a little towne fast by he goes,
And meanes himselfe a while for to repose.
The trauell sore he had before endured,
So great a wearinesse in him had bred,
And such desire of sleepe withall procured,
As straight he gat him to his naked bed.
The while Martano to all fraud inured,
And vsing aid of her mischieuous head,
(as he did soundly sleepe) deuisd the while
A stratageme most strange, him to beguise.
They do conclude to take Griffinos steed,
And cote, and eu'ry warlike implement,
And that Martano in Griffinos steed,
Himselfe to Norandino shall present.
This they deuisd, this they performd in deed,
And boldly backe againe Martano went,
In Griffins armor stoutly stepping in.
As did the Asse that ware the Lions skin.
In Aesops fablos
He rusheth in among the thickest presse,
An houre before the setting of the sunne,
The King and all the rest straightway do guesse,
That this was he that had such honor wonne:
And straight great honour they to him addresse,
And cause the like by others to be done,
And his base name, not worthy to be named,
About the towne with honor was proclamed▪
Fast by the King he rideth cheeke by cheeke,
And in his praise they songs and verses make,
In Hebrew tongue, in Latin and in Greeke.
And now this while did Griffin hap to wake,
And seeing that his armour was to seeke,
He first begins some small mistrust to take,
Yet hardly could it sinke into his reason,
That she had giu'n consent to such a treason.
In feare and doubt no little time he houered;
But when his host the truth had plaine declard,
And that he saw the falshood plaine disouered,
By which she had in follies bands him snard,
Thē truth shewd plain that loue before had couered,
And to reuenge this wrong he straight prepard,
But wanting other furniture (perforce)
He tooke Martanos armor and his horse.
And backe vnto Damasco he doth ride,
Arriuing there within an houre of night,
And entring at the gate vpon the side,
The pallace of the King stood plaine in sight,
Where then the King a banket did prouide,
For many a Duke and Lord, and valiant Knight,
And Griffin boldly sate among the rest,
Forgetting that he ware the scorned crest.
And taken for the man whose coate he ware,
His presence did the better sort offend,
Of which when vile Martano was aware,
That of the table sate at th'vpper end,
And sees that to disgrace him they forbare,
And thinke him his companion and his frend:
His friendship and acquaintance he renounced,
And this hard doom of him he straight pronounced.
Sir King (quoth he) it seems that for my sake,