An excellent historie bothe pithy and pleasant, discoursing on the life and death of Charles and Iulia, two Brittish, or rather Welshe louers No lesse delightfull for varietie, then tragicall in their miserie, not hurtfull to youthe, nor vnprofitable to age, but commodious to bothe. By W.A. Averell, W. (William) 1581 Approx. 165 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 73 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2008-09 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A23370 STC 980 ESTC S104464 99840202 99840202 4678

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A23370) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 4678) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 521:13) An excellent historie bothe pithy and pleasant, discoursing on the life and death of Charles and Iulia, two Brittish, or rather Welshe louers No lesse delightfull for varietie, then tragicall in their miserie, not hurtfull to youthe, nor vnprofitable to age, but commodious to bothe. By W.A. Averell, W. (William) [144] p. [By J. Charlewood?] for Edward White, dwelling at the little north doore of S. Paules Church, at the signe of the Gun, Imprinted at London : 1581. Dedication signed: William Averell. In verse. Printer's name conjectured by STC. Signatures: A⁴ B-I K⁴. Running title reads: Charles and Iulia two Brittaine loouers. Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.

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An excellent Hiſtorie bothe pithy and pleaſant, Diſcourſing On the life and death of Charles and Iulia, two Brittish, or rather Welshe louers. No leſſe delightfull for varietie, then tragicall in their miſerie, not hurtfull to youthe, nor vnprofitable to age, but commodious to bothe. By W. A.

¶Imprinted at London for Edward White, dwelling at the little North doore of S. Paules Church, at the ſigne of the Gun. 1581.

¶To the worſhipfull and his moſte approoued freend, Maiſter Henry Campyon: W. A. vvisheth health and wealth of body, quietneſſe and contentation of minde, in this life fulneſſe of felicitie, and in the life eternall true tranquillitie.

HAuing taken ſome paynes (Woorſhipfull Syr) to reduce this Hiſtorie into ſauorie verſe, and taking Pen in hand to preſent you with the ſimple Dedication of the ſame, the grauity of your perſon, ſuddenly encountred my raſh attempt, with ſuch a hot aſſault of miſdoubte, that I was forced to make a haſty retire into the Caſtell of deeper conſyderation, and hauing pondered with my ſelf that the wiſe and painefull Bee, ſucketh Honny ſometimes out of the waſtefull weede, I gathered your Worſhip to haue the like diſcreſiō in reading, that the Bee hath in chooſing, and therefore I thought it not amiſſe, imitating the Phiſition, to mingle ſometimes poyſon amidde the pure Treackle, thereby to driue out one Naile with another, ſo that notwithſtanding, my young braine do yeelde greene fruite, to the taſte of your mellowed yeares: yet beeing vſed well, it may redound bothe to your pleaſure and profit. Though the greene Apple being 〈◊〉 , breedes crude and rotten 〈…〉 well roſted, it hurteth not the ſtomack, your Worſhip hauing now paſſed the fierie heate of youthe, may in the happy ſtate, of your luckie age, ſyt and ſmile at the vaine baight of affectiōs, which ouer ruleth the ſway of youthfull mindes, and ſighe at the ſynnes which you were ſubiect to, in the vnſtedfaſt ſtate of that vnconſtant age, which you ſhall aptly beholde in theſe two louers, by reading the contents of this my ſimple verſe. Eſteeme the ſ • me I beſeech you not as a requitall of your deſarts (which are many;) but as a remembraunce of my good will (which is great) though my abillity be ſmall, who being ſo deepely and diuerſly indetted to your worſhip, thought euery day a yeere, till ſome fruite of thankfulnes did appeare to ſpring, from the groūd of my well willing minde. Thus committing you to the taſte of theſe my ſimple Cates, which I wiſh as much to pleaſe your appetite in reading, as they did diſeaſe me in writing, I leaue you to the tuition of the almightie, who graunt to you and yours, more ioyes then I can wiſh, and yet my wiſhes more then I can performe.

Yours in all freendely ſort to commaunde. W. Auerell.
❧To the courteous and freendly Reader.

GEntle reader, I ſhall not neede with ſuperfluous prayſes to commend vnto thée, either the pleaſure or profit thou maiſt take in peruſing this ſtraunge and lamentable Hiſtory, let the meate be ſeene in the man, the Trée in his fruite, the Flower in his ſent, the cloth in his wool, and the Wine in his taſte, Nam vino vendibili nihill opus eſt ſuſpenſa haedera, which béeing ſaleable, néedes no Iuie Garlande, yet herein mayſt thou ſee the vanitie of youthe, the corruption of nature, the vnſtedfaſtneſſe of Fortune, the faithfulneſſe of fréendſhip: but eſpecially the puniſhment, that God ſheweth vpon thoſe wanton childrē, which without conſent of their Parents mindes, from whom they had their bodies, doo ſtubernely, or at leaſt wiſe fooliſhly knit that knot, which the aduiſe of their Parentes ſhould moſte fyrmelye faſten, running raſhlye vpon the Rockes of theyr owne ruine, and ſinking in the Sandes of their owne ſéeking, to the auoydinge of which inconueniences I haue penned for thy delight this Hiſtorye, of two Brittiſh or rather Welſh loouers, whoſe amorous affections I haue ſomewhat louer lyke depaynted, not that I bringe Oyle to maintaine the light of Venus lampe, but with the ſaciety therof quight to extinguiſh her flame, that Loouers peruſing the wanton contracts of theſe two Venus darlings, may by the fulſomeneſſe of theyr ſtraunge euents, be driuen into diſliking of ſo vaine a paſtime, or rather a madneſſe, which altereth the minde, chaungeth the body, peruerteth reaſon, ſubuerteth wiſdom, expelleth ioye, and bringeth with it more poundes of paine, then drams of delight, theſe affections, or otherwiſe infections, mayſt thou (curteous Reader) perceaue bothe one and other in the ſequell of this diſcourſe, which may peraduenture in the eies of ſome, ſéeme ouerwanton, and more worthye a Fagot to burne it, then a Candell to reade it, but the garment is not to be caſt away, that is fretted with ſome Mothes, the Roſe is not to be reiected for his ſharpe prickelles: nor the Tree to be rooted vp, whoſe fruite is ſomewhat wormeaten, ſéeing they all may ſerue bothe for pleaſure and commoditie, neyther is this diſcourſe to be diſcommended, eyther for the groſeneſſe of the Theame being loue, or for the effeminacy of the perſonnes being louers, ſéeing bothe the one and the other are eſteemed and practiſed among thoſe whoſe heaires are not ſo graye with age, but theyr harts are as gréene in luſte, that drawing euen againe to theyr former Childehood, yet can ſpell A. M. O. when they haue one foote on the ground, and the other in their graue. But wiſhing vnto ſuch more grace, and to the younger ſorte more grauity: I conclude, referring thy iudgement to the view of this my rude diſcription, crauing thee to ſuſpend thy verdyt, tyll thou haſt conſidered the end, and then not deſpiſe my labor, which I haue attempted for thy onely pleaſure, leaſt I may ſay iuſtely of thée. Ego volens laboraui, et tu improbe ſycophantaris, and thus deſiring thée to beare both with the Printers faults and mine, which he hath committed by vnwarineſſe, and I by wearyneſſe, I end, excuſing my ſelfe with that olde Verſe of the Poet, In opere longo fas eſt obrepere ſomnum, and ſo I commit this treatiſe to thy learned correction, and thy ſelfe to the almighties protection, whom I beſeeche to guyde thée.

Farewell.
❧The Argument. HOw Lord Aeneas did depart from Troye, and wandring long, ariu'de on Itaile coſte: And wonne Lauinia to his ſpouſed ioye, though Fortune fel, his minde in turmoiles toſt. How Brutus did within this Ile ariue, and dying did deuide the ſame in three: How Louers twaine, in boyling flames did ſtriue, to ioyne theyr harts in linckes of amytie. How fates did frown, before they could poſſeſſe, their wiſhed willes, which they did long deſire: And yet obtainde, their ſorrowes were no leſſe, then when they fryed in flames of Cupids fire How rufully they bothe did end their dayes, to the diſtreſſe of Parents dolefull mindes: Theſe things at large, this Storie plaine diſplaies, as who ſo reades, full ſtraunge in ſequell findes.
❧The tragicall Hiſtorie of Charles and Iulia. WHen glorious Greekes by cōqueſt got, had ſpoyled Phrigian feeldes: And vaunting home with victorie, vpon theyr ſhining Sheeldes. When flaſhing flames of flakie fire, had Pryames pride oppreſt: And Troyan Towers by gréedy Greekes, of pride were diſpoſſeſt. The pricke of prayſe, the ſtagge of Fame, that hight Aeneas he: (Whome Poets fayne Anchiſes ſonne, and Venus Boy to be.) Preparde his Ship to ſéeke the ſoyle, which he by fate ſhould finde: Yet béeing galde with gripes of gréefe, he thus lamentes in minde. O frowning frowarde Fortune fell, that kingdomes dooſt ſubuart: Whoſe whyrling whéele of fickle force, dooth hate the hawtie hart. Thou bendſt thy browes with lowring lookes, to heare of mens good happe: He ſuppes the ſauce of ſower reléefe, that lulles him in thy lappe. Thy fawning face, thy fléering ſmyles, thy traynes intyſte our truſt: To thinke no feates of forrayne force, could drowne our déedes in duſt. Our Ilon braue was once the flower, and chéefe of Aſia ſoyle: But lawleſſe luſt of Paris lyfe, hath brought thy ſpitefull ſpoyle. O Letcher lewde we may lament, O Helen we may rewe: For Paris prankes, and thine vntrueth, our ſorrowes doo enſewe. O would the Woolues with gaping iawes, as ſoone as thou waſt borne: With tearing téeth and claſping clawes, had thee in péeces forne. Then Troyan Towers had ſafely ſtoode, and Infantes life preſeru'de: Then hautie Hectors head had not, with traytors knife bene caru'de. Dephobus, Trouetus, Polites, with Fame had yet remaynd: Nor Polixenas blood the graue, of Achillus had bene ſtaynd. Then Pirhus had not wrought his wyll, with Priams aged bones: To blotte with blood and aſhes fine, hye Ioue his Alter ſtones. Thy Princely Pallace finely framde, and glazde with glittering golde: Had ſcapt the ſcathe of furious foes, which force of fire did folde. Our Armors had not bene berayd, with blood of guſhing vaines: Nor ſtrouting ſtreams had ſmeard ye ſtréets, with heapes of dead mens braines. Our Temples and our ſturdy gates, had not with toyle bene torne: Ne ſhould the Soyle which ſuckt vp blood, haue made ſuch ſprouting Corne. Theſe gréefes and grones had we eſcapt, had Paris loſt his life: As Sages ſad by learned lore dyd will, to ſtint our ſtrife. But Pryam oh, I rew thy caſe, and Troy I thée lament: Whoſe ripe renowne and rife report, was through the world Iſprent. By chippes of chaunce thou choſen waſt, to fiftie chyldren Syre: And yet ere death decréed thy doome, they dyd theyr endes aſpyre. Thy ſonnes thus ſlaine, thy ſelfe alas, waſt halde by hoarie haire: To ſacred Temple, where thy corpes was craſde with ſpytefull ſpeare. Thy Quéene, and daughter Caſſandra. as Captiues bothe were tane: And for the gayne of gréedy golde, thy ſéely ſonne was ſlayne. O wretched King, whoſe banefull Boye, hath thus deſtroyde vs all: And on our Regions, Realmes, & Townes, hath forſte this fatall fall. O Tenedos, that lent our loſſe, whoſe ſturdie Oakes were ſquarde: To worke our wrong by wicked wyles, which guilefull Greekes preparde. Whoſe hautie Horſe procurde our harmes, that dyd no daunger doubt: Tyll outwarde ſhowe of Sacrifice, had brought our bane about. Yea, through thy grones did grow our gréefe whoſe ſhade did ſhroude theyr ſight: That when we thought theyr Nauies gone, they ſtraight returnd with might. Caſſandras ſawes, we ſmall eſtéemde, who Prophecied our ſhame: And ſayde, the cauſe of all our care, ſhould be a Grecian Dame. When Paris went to Greece ſhée ſayde. O Brother doo retyre: You lyttle knowe you goe to fetche, great flames of flaſhing fire. Laacons woordes eke warnde our woe, his Speare gainſt Horſe he thruſt: And ſayde, you Troyans take good héede, howe you this tymber truſt. Much canckred crafte contriu'de there is, within this wylie worke: For in the compaſſe of this Caue, the guilefull Greekes doo lurke. O that the ground had bene my graue, when vytall breath I tooke: Or that before this dolefull day, my life had me forſooke. Then ſhould not I haue ſéene our Towers, conſumde with firie flames: Nor Infantes ſlaine at Mothers breaſts, with ſpoyle of modeſt Danies. Then ſhould not I haue ſéene the blood, lyke Riuers redde to ronne: Nor wretched Fathers looſe theyr lyues, each by his murdred ſonne. The hoarie heads with ſyluer haires, were pearſt with Grecians dartes: That flowing floods of luke warme blood, did guſhe from out theyr harts. There might be ſéene, bothe head and armes, with many a luſtie lym: Béeing borne aboue the bloody brookes, in ſwelling ſtreames to ſwym. I ſaw, I ſaw, that gréeu'd mée moſt, my Cooſin Hectors corſe: Whoſe bloody corpes amyd the ſtréetes, dyd moue me to remorſe. To aged Pryam béeing alyue, his body then I gaue: That he might haue the right renowne, and honour of his graue. What heart ſo harde but muſt lament, to view this great annoy: Alas, I can no longer ſtaye, I muſt depart from Troy: O Troy adiew, I wayle thy woes, I mourne thy heauy plight: Thou waſt not wun by manly force, but by Vlyſſes ſlight. My Countrey, Kinſmen, and my fréendes, though teares like Seas doo ſwell: Yet dead, or lyuing, nowe at laſt, I byd you all farewell. Farewell, thou fertile Phrigian ſoyle, where Troy ſometime did ſtande: Thy walles are waſte, thy wealth is worne. adiew my natiue Lande. WHen ſighes & ſobs had ſokte his heart, and teares were waſted well: With mouing minde he ſéekes the ſoyle, which fates to him did tell. To ſea warde then with Sonne and Syre, he frames with iorney faſte: With Countrey goodes, and Reliques braue▪ he hyes in all the haſte. His Nauie ready laye at roade, the Troyans to conuay: In dreadfull doubt, and daungers déepe, they tooke theyr wearie way. Charibdis gulfe, and Scillas ſandes, with ſafetie they did paſſe Yet ſeuen yéeres ſpace the foming floods, theyr let of harbor was. As houering thus in hope they lay, at laſt Aeneas ſpyes: A Hauen for to ſhrowde their Ship, from hoarie Hyems eyes: And lyghting nowe on luckie lande, he found it Carthage newe: Whoſe Princely Portes ſo finely framde, dyd glad his eyes to viewe. Where daintie Dido was addreſt, the Prince to entertayne: Beſéeching of this Troyan Knight, with her for to remayne. He waying not of her good wyll, preparde him ſelfe with ſpéede: To looke this Lande, the which by lot, the fates for him decréede. Whē ſturdy ſtormes, and ſtriuing ſtreames, when toſſing tydes were ſpent: At laſt on Lauyne coaſt he landes, though Iunos browes were bent. And in Italia he remaynes, Lauinia was his Wife: Of whome he got a worthy ſonne, and then departed lyfe. Which Iulius Siluius had to name, that Alba Longa built: Of whome Siluius Brutus came, that Fathers lyfe hath ſpylt. For which miſchaunce he baniſht was, and in this Ile aryu'de: Wherein he got three worthy ſonnes, or death his lyfe depryu'de. Yet or the Siſters dyd agrée, his twiſt for to vntwine: Hee made deuiſion of this Lande, and then was layde in Shrine. To Locrins lot, the Eaſt parte fell, the other Albanact had: And Camber gouernde worthy Wales, whereof he was full glad. Theſe Princes each poſſeſt theyr place, and dyd this Lande defend: Tyll Atropos with caruing knife, her Siſters web dyd ende. Then Cambria was two Lordſhips large, two Lords poſſeſt the ſame: Of whome, as Stories make recorde, they were of worthy fame. In Angleſie the one dyd raigne, ſyr Gaulfride ſtoute he hight: The other Owen had to name, in Flint he rulde by right. This Gaulfride had one ſonne calde Charles, a Lad of luſty lym: And Owen had a Daughter déere, in beautie lyke to him. This Charles Dame Nature had bedeckt, with goodly giftes of grace: That all the Arte which ſhe could vſe, ſhe planted in his face. His flowing tongue Apollo taught, ſuch ſugred ſpeach to frame: (His ſtature was ſo ſéemely ſet) as none can tell the ſame. Full twentie yéeres he was of age, his Beard began to growe: Then tyme in him by rare aſpectes, great wiſdome ſéemd to ſhowe. Her name was gentle Iulia, whoſe blazing beautie bright: Like ſplendaunt Phoebus rayes did ſhine, in euerie peoples ſight. I know Apelles could not paint, her ſéemely ſhape and ſhowe: Though euerie Painter ſhould with him, theyr perfect ſkyll beſtowe. Dame Nature ſéeing her picture braue, dyd heaue her prayſe ſo hye: That in the ſame ſhée breathed life: when ſhée dyd it eſpye. Her curled crine dyd farre ſurpaſſe, the glorious gliſtering golde: My ſkill is ſcant, my wit dooth want, her fauour to vnfolde. In yéeres ſhe was ninetéene I reade, yet was her geſtures graue: And modeſt was ſhe in her talke, but fewe her vertues haue. Why ſhould I ſtand to paynt her prayſe, I want the Muſes ayde: Ne haue I clym'de Parnaſſus clyffe, by ceaſeleſſe toyle aſſayde. I neuer yet did waſhe my wittes, at wiſe Libethres Well: Nor ſcalde the roughe and ragged rocke, where learned Ladies dwell. Wherefore come Clio, mée aſſiſt, good Ladies lend your ſkyll: That I may ſhowe thoſe Loouers lyues, with this my barraine quyll. A Fountaine fayre there is in Flint, a Riuer rare to ſée: Where auncient Brittaines dyd ſuppoſe, ſome power diuine to bée. And daylie yet they doo adore, this auncient ſacred Spring: Whoſe Vertues of a troth are rare, and doo much profite bring. And calde it is Saint Winefredes Well, for whome theyr yéerely Feaſt: With reuerence they yet obſerue, from greateſt to the leaſt. The Lame, the Blinde, the Lunatike, the Deafe, and eke the Dome: Vnto this cléere celeſtiall ſpring, for ſuccour ſtyll doo come. Amongſt the route, young Charles dooth ride, this pleaſaunt plat to viewe: And to ſuruay each ſeemely ſhape, among this comely crewe. On th'other ſide Dame Iulia comes, her offringes to beſtowe: That vnto VVinefred ſhe maye, her due obeyſaunce ſhowe. To Temple nowe theſe gallaunts goe, with Iulia and her trayne: Where ſolempne Seruice they did heare, and ſo returnde agayne. Then vnto dauncing they doo fall, as auncient cuſtome is: They ſpende theyr tyme in pleaſaunt ſport, no want of ioye they myſſe. But Charles amyd the thickeſt throng, dooth lende his launcing lookes: To féede his eyes with beauties baytes, yet fearde no force of hookes. Theyr beautie he in ballaunce bindes, and wayes them all alyke: He thought no dynt of Cupids darte, her ſturdie heart could ſtrike. At laſt his eyes he firmely fixt, on Iulias ſhape beſide: Whoſe fauour freſhe, and face ſo fayre, Dame Nature had bedyde. He found ſuch ſparkes within her face, as dyd inflame his heart: Which boylde his breſt, with burning brāds, and bred his ſmoking ſmart. For crabbed Cupid by his craft, dyd hyde himſelfe vnſeene: And gorde the breaſt of Charles vnwares, which made his woundes full greene. Syr Charles who lyu'de at lybertie, as captiue nowe is caught: And where he wyſt not how to wooe, now Looue his tongue hath taught. He knewe her not that bred his bane, or wrapt his wittes in woe: His ſences now were rockt a ſléepe, her Looue had lulde him ſoe. Yet baſhfull ſhame, (the foe of Looue,) withholdes his tongue to ſpeake: And faynting feare, had wrought his force, his minde he durſt not breake. Three thinges there be that hinder Looue, that's Abſence, Feare, and Shame: And where that theſe be reſident, there thinges can neuer frame. Yet he requeſts with dilligence. a Tenaunt of her Syre: What hight her name, who was her Kinne, that kindled thus his fyre. Meane ſpace fayre Iulia lookes about, her wandring eyes doo gaze: Tyll ſhée by Fortune found the face, which made her minde to maze. On Charles by chaūce, her eyes made choyſe, whoſe feature ſhée dyd finde: (Aboue each ſhowe of humaine ſhape) the beſt to pleaſe her minde. Shée deemed his beames of beauty bright, dyd paſſe each wight as farre: As Titans glyſtering rayes excelles, the clearenes of a Starre. By doome diuine it was decréede, he ſhould enioye her hart: Yet knew not ſhée what wight it was, that dyd procure her ſmart. Thus bothe by lot in looue were lynckt, there Paſſions were alike: One direfull darte by Cupids crafte, theyr ſtroke of ſtrife dyd ſtrike: They ſtraungers were to each vnknown, bothe languiſhe for reléefe: And feare dyd force them to be faint, to ſhewe theyr gripes of gréefe. Yet ſhée demaundes what Knight it was, whoſe Princely port dyd ſhine: Who aunſwered her, he was the chéefe, and heyre of Gaulfrides line. Which was the Earle of Angleſie, theſe woordes dyd glad her hart: And yet the priuie prickes of looue, encreaſt her ceaſeleſſe ſmart. On Venus then ſhée dooth exclaime, and of her cruell chylde: Becauſe that through his ſhiuering ſhafte, her pleaſures were exylde. Yet dooth ſhee thanke Dame Venus grace, that ſhée in hart dyd ſerue: A worthy Wight, whoſe vertues rare, dyd well her looue deſerue. Wherefore O Lady, graunt (quoth he) that for my loyall hart: I may rewarded be with looue, to ceaſe my ſecrete ſmart. Thus bothe attentiue were to view, to marke each others eye: If by the ſight, ſome ſignes might ſéeme, the flames for to deſcrie. At laſt theyr dauncing finiſht was, they leaue theyr lyked ſport: And to a Garden gay and gréene, they all foorthwith reſort. Wherein an Arbor they are ſet, each one to his degrée: Firſt Charles, then Iulia next to him, as duetie wyld to bée. The common crewe with merrie notes, of ſyluer ſounde doo ſing: That with the Eccho of theyr voice, they make the Garden ring. But Charles thus placed in this plat, with ioye his tongue is tyde: And ſhiftes of ſhame, doo ſhrowde his ſpéeche, which ſhould haue looue deſcryde. He fréendly grypes her tender hand, his hart dooth leape for ioye: And chaunge of h • we bewrayes the flames, that dyd his minde annoye. For as a glaſſe preſentes each ſhowe, and makes the Picture playne: Euen ſo the eyes and face bewrayes, what dooth in minde remayne. When cullor vades and comes againe, when wandring eyes doo raunge: Theſe are the certayne ſignes of Looue, or of ſome Paſſion ſtraunge. He fayne would ſpeake, but feare bad ſtaye, and ſhame retaynd her tongue: And thus with prickes of Cupids flames, they bothe alyke were ſtong. Tyll Looue at laſt ſurpaſſed ſhame, and forced feare to flye: The blazing brandes that burnd within, burſt out with flames on hye. Then Charles declarde what grypes of gréefe dyd holde his heauy hart: What flames of Fancie burnd his breaſt, through dint of Cupids dart. O Iulia, would to God (quoth he) you knewe my priuie payne: What ſecrete ſighes and ſoking ſobs, I for your ſake ſuſtayne. Your heauenly hewe hath wun my wyll, and pearſt my heart ſo deepe: That leſt you deygne to graunt me grace, my wayling minde muſt weepe. For when I ſaw your ſeemely ſight, there flewe from out your eyes, A ſpitefull ſparke into my heart, whereof great flames did ryſe. That leaſt you graunt me wiſhed grace, to eaſe my groning gréefe: The greedy ground wyll be my graue, for want of your reléefe. O Lady deere in you remaynes, to ſaue or elſe to ſpyll: My life or death, my weale and woe, dependes vpon your wyll. With Mercie heale my moning minde, ſith beautie dooth abound: Let Pittie be the plaſter pure, to cure my inwarde wound. Elſe cruell care, with caruing knife, my vytall twiſt vntwine: And dreadfull death diſpatch my dayes, to ſhrowde my ſhape in ſhrine. Here with the trickling teares dyd trayne, a long his cherry cheekes: And ſobs to ſilence him prouokte, his tongue to talke myſteekes. When ſhe had heard this trembling tale, ſhe would haue fayne replyde: But faultring tongue was glewd ſo faſt, that it to roofe was tyde. At laſt as one from ſlouthfull ſléepe, which newly dooth awake: Recouering of her former force, with trembling tongue ſhe ſpake, O woorthy Syr, whome lucky lot, through deſtinies decrée: Aſſigned haue vnto this place, to thrall my heart ſo free. Iſ loyall Looue do burne your breaſt, as you by ſpeach profeſſe: Much more the kindled coales doo blaze, in me whoſe force is leſſe. O that Dame Fortune dyd agrée, if that it pleaſde your minde: That laſting lynkes of loyall Looue, dyd knit the knot of kinde. Though death ſhould deale his dyrefull dint, and daunt me with his Dart: No pinching prickes of pyning payne, ſhould ſtyrre my minde to ſtart. Eche gréef were gaine, ech ſoure were ſwéet, eche payne ſhall pleaſure ſéeme: All deadly dolors for your ſake, I déepe delyght would déeme▪ And leaſt you thinke I falſely fayne, my heart and hand I giue: To reſt your owne in weale or woe, whyle I on earth doo liue. You Loouers well may iudge what ioyes, inflamde his moning minds: When calme content prouok • her will, the Brydely bandes to binde. He cryes, O Fortune ſtay thy whéele, I haue my hoped hyre: My will hath wun his onely wiſhe, thou fedſt me with deſyre. Heerwith theyr ſolemne ſacred oathes, confirmes theyr faithfull hartes: And hearts and handes doo knyt the knot, which nought but death departs. Bothe Iuno then, and Himen heyghe, to wytneſſe they doo call: Howe fréely they dyd ioyne the bande, which thruſt them bothe in thrall. By this tyme Phoebus loſt his lyght, and Weſtwarde dyd decline: And Veſper nowe the euening Starre, beginneth for to ſhine. O Charles (quoth ſhee) we muſt depart, which grindes my groning gréefe: Tyll tracte of tyme doo yéelde the lot, to lende vs lyke reléefe. (Quoth he) O Iulia poynt the tyme, that we may meete agayne: And if I breake the fixed howre, let mée the blame ſuſtayne. Nought elſe but death, ſhall kéepe my corps, from out they ſeemely ſight: Or if I dye, my wandring Ghoſt, ſhall come to thée by night. Sayde Iulia then, when Phoebus hath, thrée tymes his lyght renewde: Let not your abſence cauſe my cares, leaſt pleaſures be ſubdewde. O Iulia déere, if I (quoth he) doo ſwarue from your deſyre: Let mighty Ioue conſume my corpes, with flaſhing flames of fyre. With claſping armes they then embrace, theyr kiſſes ſhewe theyr kinde: A hundreth tymes theyr lyppes doo meete, to glad each others minde. Then floods of teares do flowe full faſt, theyr parting was a payne: Yet hope was hony to theyr harts, that they ſhould méete againe. And thus they had each others hart, which dyd them bothe content: He hyeth then to Angleſie, and homeward ſtraight ſhe went. Where being come, they bothe lament, the force of Cupids fiſt: Whoſe hapleſſe hand dyd ſhoote the ſhafte, to wound them ere they wiſt. He cryes, O Cupid crafty elfe, the worker of my woe: What haue I done, that moues thy minde, on me thy force to ſhow. And ſhe exclaymes on Venus vyle, which lapt her heart in Looue: And bound her in ſuch bandes of bale, from which ſhe could not mooue. Theyr eyes do now forget to ſléepe, through care and dyrefull dread: They wallowe ſtyll theyr wearie bones, vpon theyr reſtleſſe bead. Nowe doo they déeme each day a month, and euerie month a yeare: Tyll each of them by plighted vowe, in poynted place appeare. Each pleaſure nowe procureth payne, all Muſicke ſéemeth mone: All wealth is woe, theyr heauy harts, are gnawde with gripes of grone. The wiſhed tyme they ſtyll attend, to view each others ſight: That they might ſpend theyr tyme in ſport, and lyue in déepe delight. Thrée tymes hath Phoebus now repay'de, his waſted hornes a new: The wiſhed day is nowe attaynd, they ſhould each other view. Then Charles with chéerefull hart is preſt, when Phoebus force was ſpent: To hye with haſte, leaſt Parents ſhould, perceyue his cloſe intent. Nowe Sol was ſetled in the Weſt, and Luna gan to ſhine: When Charles pretendes to view her face, whome he in heart dyd ſhrine. By trauayle he attaynes the place, (when Nox was waſted well:) Where firſt he found the harmefull heate, which forſt his heart to ſwell. But when Aurora in the Eaſt, had cléerde the morning tyde: Then Iulia longing for this lyght, to Wynefride ſhee hyde. By fayning of due Sacrifice, they bothe with ioye embrace: That each of them through frée conſent, had wun this wiſhed place. What ioyes they had, let Loouers iudge, when bothe at ſuddayne ſight: Poſſeſt the fruites of theyr deſires, vnto theyr déepe delyght. Euen as the Vine enuyroneth, the pole which makes them grow: So they embrace each others necke, with armes as white as ſnow. When ſugred toyes of Loouers guiſe, betwéene them ende dyd take▪ Then Charles to Iulia framde his tale, and thus to her he ſpake. O Iulia, would my ſoyle were ſet, within thy natiue lande: That I each night might ſhape my courſe. to kiſſe thy tender hande. So might I homewarde hye with haſte, ere morning lent his lyght: So might we bothe frequent our ioyes, vnſéene of any wight. But ſéeing the ſtronde withholdes our harts, béeing lynckt by lots of looue: Let vs to winne our wiſhed wylles, ſome priuie practiſe prooue. To binde vs bothe in Bridely bandes, this is the méeteſt way: That we by ſome deuiſe allure, ſome Préeſt with hoped pray. Him to corrupt with heapes of Coyne, yet cloſe it muſt be wrought: That rype report run not abroade, ere it to paſſe be brought. But when by Lawe we lynked are, if then our Parents knowe: They waying want of remedy, wyll graunt it ſhall be ſoe. And though my Parents and my fréendes, diſdaine my ſecrete déede: In ſtéede of theyr good wyll, I ſhall, obtayne a greater méede. My Fathers wealth, and eke my kinne, I doo accoumpt them ſmall: So I enioy thy hydden heart, I reape reward for all. Wherfore let not our Fathers wrath, or care for worldly wealth: Once moue thy ſtedfaſt minde from me, whereon dependes my health. For why, ere Luna loſe her lyght, by onely courſe of kinde: I wyll prouide a priuie Préeſt, our bandes of bliſſe to binde. Therefore declare if my deuiſe, content your worthy wyll: Or that you know a better way, our ioyes for to fulfyll. When as he thus had tolde his minde, ſhée ſpake with trembling voyce: O Syr (quoth ſhée) my wits are weake, I put it to your choyce. The great good wyll I beare to you, my hews bewrayes the ſame: And though that Women weaker be, my heate excéedes your flame. Where Femine doo prefixe theyr Looue, no meaſure they obſerue: They faſten then theyr faith ſo ſure, that they doo neuer ſwarue. Aſſure your ſelfe what I haue ſayde, my déedes ſhall playne expreſſe: For tyme ſhall trie that truſty trueth, ſhall not from words degreſſe. For why, the giftes of Natures grace, which I in you doo finde: Your Verues, and your forme ſo fine, haue wun my inwarde minde. No marueyle tis that I am caught, in Cupids ſuttle ſnare: Sith that the Wight that holdes my heart, in beauty is ſo rare. My Looue is ſuch, that leaſt through lot, we lyncked are by Lawe: Fell Atropos wyll cut the threde, which Lacheſis dooth drawe. Sith I haue vowde to be thine owne, thy purpoſe do diſpatch: For none beares breath, but onely thou, with whome I wiſh to match. Ere that a month therefore be paſt, I wyll attentiue bee: According vnto promiſe plight, your quicke returne to ſee. My Iulia deere doubt not (ſayth he) full ſoone I wyll retyre: For to content your fréendly minde, with fruites of your deſire. And in meane ſpace as Loouers vſe, on hope we ſtyll wyll féede: Tyll poynted tyme be fully runne, whereon we haue decréede. By this tyme Phoebus ſturdy ſtéedes, doo lodge in Occident: When theſe two Loouers nowe muſt leaue, the ſport which thus they ſpent. With heauy cheere they then embrace, theyr claſped armes they cloſe: What heauy ſighes and ſobbes they ſpent, my pen cannot diſcloſe. With gréedy grypes he culles her corpes, full lothe for to depart: Farewell my Iulia déere (quoth he) I leaue with thée my hart. Syr Charles (quoth ſhée) although my corps, be hyd from out your ſight: I yéelde alſo my heart to you, your goodneſſe to requight. And thus they bothe prepare to packe, he ſpares no ſpurres to ſpéede: Shée backward throwes her lingring lookes, her fancyde eyes to feede. But when ſhée loſt his ſight at laſt, her teares gan guſhe a mayne: Her heauy heart was then oppreſt, with pynching prickes of payne. Shée curſt the tyme that Nature firſt, dyd lende her luckleſſe lyfe: Shee wiſht her Nurſe, had reft her breath, by dint of bloody knyfe. Shee curſt her mouth that tooke the foode, which dyd her corpes ſuſtayne: And wiſht ſome poyſon in her pappe, that might haue bene her bayne. At laſt retaynd by reaſons rule, her ſelfe ſhée homeward ſped: Where being come, ſhée wylles her mayde, for to prepare her bed. Whereon ſhee thought to take her reſt, and fall to quiet ſleepe: But carking care, and groning gréefe, prouokte her eyes to wéepe. That downe the teares lyke drops doo raine, on bed whereas ſhée laye: And to her ſelfe in whyſpering ſort: at laſt ſhée gan to ſaye. If I ſhould marie ſecretly, ere Parents knowe the ſame? What ſhould I purchaſe to my ſelfe, but onely laſting ſhame? What? ſhould I match my ſelfe with him, whome thriſe I neuer ſawe? Tuſh Iulia, tuſh thou art to raſhe, therefore thy minde withdrawe, Leaſt it be ſayde, thou art a Chylde, that lyu'ſte deuoyde of awe? Shall I my Mothers curſe deſerue? whereat I ought to quake? Shall I loſe Parents, Kithe and Kin? all for one Straungers ſake? Or ſhall I put my honeſtie, into a Straungers hand: Who would perhaps miſuſe me then, when as I were in band? To whome then might I make my mone, or gape for hope of grace? Who would aſſiſt me hauing wrong, or pleade my carefull caſe? No, no, my wyll ſhall ceaſe to wade, to worke my Parentes woe: My haſty head ſhall leaue his hope, to frame my ruine ſoe. This ſayd, ſhe pauſde, & ſtraight wayes dooth, her tatling tongue reprooue: For ſpytting out ſuch woordes of ſpight, gainſt him whome ſhe did looue. Should I (quoth ſhée) vngratefull ſéeme, to ſuch a woorthy Knight? Who on the gayne of my good wyll, dooth fixe his whole delight? Within whoſe faithfull heart ſo true, dooth lodge ſuch loyall looue? Whoſe Vertue rare, and ſéemely ſhape, the ſtonyſt heart might mooue? Should I then haue a flinty heart, lyke to my Countreyes name? Or ſhould I to a courteous Knight, be found a thankleſſe Dame? No, no, in wealth, or elſe in woe, in myrth, or elſe in mone: In pleaſure, or in pinching paine, tyll death I am his owne. Tyll whoſe returne (I liue in teares,) expecting wiſhed ioyes: When Mariage locke, ſhall linck our hearts, to driue out darke annoyes. When teares & ſwelling ſighes were ſlakte, Morpheus dooth appeare: Syr Somnus with his ſléeping ſlights, dooth cloſe her eyes ſo cleare. Her minde is then deuoyde of care, (For ſleepe dooth eaſe the hart: Whome greedy gripes of groning greefe, dooth ſinke in Seas of ſinart.) At laſt Aurora with his lyght, the cloudy Skies dooth cleare: And blazing Tytan with his beames, in Eaſt dooth ſtrayght appeare. Then dooth ſhée ryſe from carefull coutche, ſhée takes her Booke in hand: Wherein ſhée reades her priuate Prayers, as dyd with cuſtome ſtand. But ſtill her rowling eye dooth raunge, in thouſands thriftleſſe thoughts: To think on Charles, dooth chaūge her chéere, thereby her gréefe is wrought. But leaue we Iulia nowe a tyme, for why my quaking quyll: Shall nowe reuert, to paynt his greefe, whome cutting cares dyd kyll. When he had paſt her Fathers Port, and parted was her ſight: In ryding he eſpyes a Hyll, whereat he dyd alight. Such dollors deepe dyd him diſtreſſe, ſuch ſuddaine ſorrowes ſwell. As mazde his mynde, that flat on ground, in pytteous plightes he fell. And thus with cryes he cleaues the clowdes, Oh gentle Death (quoth hee:) Come ſhut theſe wyndowes of my mynde, this lothſome lyght to ſee. O Heauens, where are your thunder boltes, and flakes of flaſhing fire: For to conſume my carefull coarſe, which burnes in hote deſire. O Earth▪ doo gape with mighty mawe, and ſwallowe vp my coarſe: Some haſty hande, diſpatch my dayes, and rew me with remorſe. As thus he powrde his pittious plaints, his waſ • leſſe woes to wéepe: His ſooking ſighes, and wearyed teares, prouokte his eyes to ſleepe. Dame Venus then to him appeares, thus ſleeping as he laye: And thus ſhée ſpake (O Charles quoth ſhée) awake with ſpéede I ſaye. Why dooſt thou ſo with troublous thoughts, and ſtormes of ſturdy ſtrife: Torment thy ſelfe for her, which ſhall remayne thy wedded Wife? The noyſome night is néerely ſpent, ſtand vp therfore with ſpéede: For why, to hye the home in haſte, the tyme requireth néede. This faynting feare that frayes thy heart, denyes thou art a man: And yet thy ſhape dooth ſhewe full well, the arte that Nature can. Vngyrde thy minde of inwarde gréefe, let wiſedome welde thy wyll: Thy looue is thine (doo not diſmay) and ſo ſhee ſhall be ſtyll. With that he ſtarteth vp amazde, releaſt of inwarde payne: And hopte aſſuredly of helpe, through this his viſion vayne. And beeing perfectly awakte, he tooke his prime proſpect: Vnto the coaſt where ſhée was lodgd, that dyd his heart protect. O luckie Land, O Flint (quoth he) thriſe happy be the howre: That I to fixe my féebel féete, in thée dyd finde the powre. Thou harboreſt her that hath my heart, and ſhall tyll death agrée: To ſhryne mée in my ſhyuering ſhéete, what ſo betyde of mée. With that a clowde of ſmoking ſighes, he ſendes to her amayne: To ſignifie her loyall looue, dyd ſo procure his payne. Then to his man he calles for Horſe▪ he hyes him home apace: That he may wynne his Fathers Court, ere Phoebus ſhowe his face. And by that tyme he had aſpyrde, vnto his haſted home: Bright Lucifer the morning Star, about the Skies dooth rome. He wylles his man to make his bed, whome he dooth chardge full ſtraight: Not to diſcloſe his ſecrete walkes, which was a thing of waight. And there in bedde he dooth deuiſe, where he a Préeſt may finde: That may procure his wiſhed wyll, and eaſe his carefull minde. At laſt, ſuppreſt with ſluggiſh ſléepe, he takes a nappe or twayne: And then he ſtarts from ſtately bed, to cloathe him ſelfe agayne. And ere he had him ſelfe addreſt, the Sunne dooth South declyne, The clocke ſtrykes twelue, the boord is layd, and it is dynner tyme. It were too long for to expreſſe, the chaunge of coſtly cates: For ſeru'de they were as dooth become, the ſtay of noble States. Let it ſuffiſe that they were ſet, and into talke they fell: Of this and that, I knowe not what, nor dyd not marke it well. But well I wot, Charles lyked not, to heare theyr tedious talke: For all that whyle his wandring wittes, a thouſande wayes dooth walke. He ſate ſo ſadly in his dumpes, with armes encloſde to breaſt: That men might think ſome cauſe there was that bread his great vnreſt. His Father and his Mother bothe, doo fixe theyr eyes on him: They muzd what clowds had clipſt his mirth or made his ioyes ſo dym. And thus his Father gan to ſpeake, my Sonne, I maruayle much: What mooues thy minde to myrthleſſe chéere or makes thy geſtures ſuch? Hath lynkes of Looue, by Cupids crafte, inchaynde thy heart by chaunce? Hath Venus vayne inuolu'de thy minde, in her delyghts to daunce? Hath fancie fettered thee ſo faſte, that thou canſt not reioyce? Then tell me who, and what ſhée is, whereon thou makſte thy choyce. His Mother eke, whoſe tender care, was ouer him not ſmall: Deſyres him tell, what chyppe of chaunce, by ſorie happe dooth fall. That ere the wound be waxen ſtale, ſhee may a ſalue prepare: To heale the harmes that holdes his heart, and for to cure his care. Theyr woordes doo much amaze his minde, the blood dooth ſtayne his face: A ſigne of ſéemely ſhamefaſtneſſe, and token of good grace. And thus to them with reuerence due, he dooth replye agayne: My Parentes bothe, you geſſe amyſſe, your iudgementes are but vayne. No ſhiuering ſhafte of Cupids crafte, nor force of Fancies fume: Hath any force to cruſhe my coarſe, my pleaſures to conſume. I coumpt but vyle of Venus vaunts, her beauty is but blacke: It cannot dym my chriſtall ſight, nor pluck my pleaſures backe. I haue my health I thanke the Heauens, with cares ne am I clad: My minde is ſtuft with inwarde myrth, although I ſeeme ſo ſad. And then he throwes a forced ſmyle, to dryue their mindes from dout: Leaſt they might elſe ſurmyſe the trueth, which made him ſéeme ſo ſtout. By that they thus had ſpent the tyme, the dynner came to ende: All ryſe with courſe of courteſie, with ſhortneſſe to extende. The Lordes and Ladyes doo delyght, at Cheſſe to ſpende the tyme: And ſome reuolue the auncient bookes, was writ in Brittish ryme. Some Dice, ſome Carde, ſome Hunt, ſome Hawke, as beſt content their minde: And euery one to paſſe the tyme, ſome pleaſaunt play doo finde. But Charles enchaynd by thryſtles thoughts the day in care conſumes: And wiſheth Nox for to approch, that ſléepe may eaſe his ſumes. Which béeing come, his former woes, withholdes his eyes from reſt: He turnes and toſſeth too and fro, to eaſe his carefull breſt. At laſt Aurora lendes her lyght, and Titan dooth diſplay: His gladſome beames to each mans eyes, that couets for the day. Syr Charles that longed for the lyght, from carefull couch dooth ryſe: And then howe he might finde a Préeſt, he dooth all meanes deuyſe. By happe it came into his minde, of one whome he dyd knowe: Which was his fréende, and vnto whome, he ſtraight for helpe dyd goe. Requeſting him to yeelde ſupplie, for to releeue his caſe: Becauſe in him dyd onely reſt, his hope of wiſhed grace. Proteſting then if he would graunt, to comfort him in neede: He would requight his great good wyll, with fruites of treble méede. In you (quoth he) remaynes my helpe, and lengthning of my lyfe: And you alone can eaſe my gréefe, and ſtint my inwarde ſtryfe. Wherefore as I may reſt your fréend, in after tyme to come: So lende reléefe to ayde my lacke, then ſhall you heare the ſome. The Préeſt replyed with reuerence dew, good Syr, what lyes in me: My lyfe and death is ready preſt, at your commaund to be. If I may pleaſure you in ought, expreſſe the ſame with ſpeede: And héere I vowe in what I can, I wyll ſupport your néede. And if it doo concerne ſuch things, as muſt be needes conceald: Though death ſhould daūger me with doubt, it ſhall not be reueald. Wherefore detract no longer tyme, heere is bothe heart and hand: In weale or woe, I wyll not ſticke, your helper for to ſtand. Charles lyked well his faythfull heart, and thought him ſelfe thryſe bleſt: That Fortune ſtoode ſo much his fréend, to graunt him wiſhed reſt. With thouſand thankes for his good wyll, which he had not deſeru'de: Proteſting then his kindneſſe great, his lothed lyfe preſeru'de. Wherefore (quoth he) with lyſtning eare, attende vnto my tale: So ſhalt thou heare my lyngering ioyes, which bréedes my bytter bale. It was my lot to lyght in place, where Ladyes dyd reſort: Amongſt the which I ſpyed out one, of moſt ſurpaſſing port. Whome Natures arte ſo finely framde, with ſuch excelling glée: As would intrappe the ſtouteſt heart, her featured forme to ſée. The ſhyning ſhape that Venus ſhewde, on toppe of Ida Mount: Was nothing to her Princely port, of whome I make account. In whome ſuch vertue dooth remayne, to matche her heauenly face: As makes me iudge ſhée dooth excell, Pandora for her grace. Whoſe ſeemely ſhowe, with manners milde when I had marked well: Withdrewe the fréedome of my minde, to bondage ſtraight I fell. The bandes of beauty which ſhée bare, with woordes of curteous talke: Within the walles of her good wyll, incloſde mée for to walke. Wherin I ſought to pleade my caſe, but ſhame my tongue dyd ſtay: Yet burning Looue quight vanquiſht ſhame, and forced feare away. So that my teares dyd tell my troth, when woords might wade no more: What ſhould I ſay, I wun her wyll, the ſalue of all my ſore. Shée plighted faith, I gaue my troth, to reſt her owne in lyfe: Now nought remaynes but Mariage ſtate, to make vs man and wife. Wherfore déere fréend, here is contaynd the ſum of my requeſt: (Sith with your function it dooth ſtand,) that you would doo your beſt. To linke vs bothe in outwarde lawe, which inwardly remaine: One heart within two bodies now, ſo ſhall you eaſe our paine. Syr, ſayde the Préeſt, though your requeſt, may well procure my blame: If luckleſſe lot, ſhould giue ſuch cauſe, your Parents know the ſame. Yet for the comfort of your heart, as for my promiſe ſake: I wyll fulfill your hearts deſire, your ſecrete bandes to make. But if ſhée be no equall match, nor fit for your degrée: I would be lothe to worke your wyll, for why, we dayly ſee: That where vnequals coupled are, is great debate and ſtrife: And ſéedes of ſuch diſſencion ſtroyes, the graftes of quiet lyfe. My freend (quoth Charles) you néede not dout. ſhée is of noble ſtate: Her Parentes and her Kinne deſcende, (the trueth for to relate.) From out the beſt of Brittiſh blood, and Owen is her Syre: In Flint he rules, and raygnes as Earle, whome I alone deſyre. If ſhee be ſuch as you declare, Syr Charles I am content: To ioygne you bothe in Nuptiall bandes, if each of you aſſent. Wherefore let dreade of froward happe, no whyt diſmay your minde: What I haue ſayde I wyll performe, though death were me aſſignde. I néede not héere expreſſe what méede, the Préeſt dyd then obtayne: His ritch rewards might well ſuffiſe, for to requight his payne. They bothe depart when this was done, each to his ſeuerall home: But Charles béeing clad with calme content, in pleaſaunt thoughts dooth rome. And nothing elſe dooth vexe his minde, but tediouſneſſe of tyme: (For euerie day dooth ſeeme a yeere, when looue remaynes in pryme.) He blames the ſonne of ceaſeleſſe ſloth, that lendes ſo long his lyght: And would the Moone were waſted cleane, that dooth prolong the night. O Titan, Titan, (he exclaymes,) when wylt thou runne thy race: I lothe the bryghtneſſe of thy beames, which doo annoy my face. Nowe dooth he wiſh ſome ſuddaine traunce, each ioynt for to benome: And by ſome Charme to loſe his ſprites, tyll fixed day doo come. Somtyme he hopes of luckie happe, then daunger byds him doubt: And thus twixt hope and faynting feare, his tyme he weareth out. Such is the trape of Venus thralles, where lothſome Looue remaines: To hope the beſt, and feare the worſt, (loe, ſuch is Loouers games.) Betweene his hope and furious feare, his pleaſaunt chéere decayes: His ſprites are duld with carefull thoughtes▪ his fleſhe conſumes away. His countenance declares his gréefe, his ſtrength beginnes to waſte: His ioynts waxe ſtiffe, his lymmes are ſore, ſuch turmoyles he dooth taſte▪ His comely carcaſſe waxeth faynt, with gréefes and dayly grones: His ſeemely ſhape is nowe become, a heape of ſhackling bones. The heart whome cutting cares dooth cruſhe, and thyrling thoughts dooth thrall: Is ſubiect vnto ſickneſſe ſore, but Feuers moſte of all. For care dooth waſte the heart of man, and bringes the body lowe: As they that feele the force thereof, full perfectly doo knowe. So Charles his gréefe to Feuer growes, his fittes procures his paine: The percing prickes of Agues panges, tormentes him euerie vaine. Whereby he forced is to tell, his dollors déepe diſeaſe: That thereby he might finde redreſſe, his ſickneſſe for to raſe. Nowe lyes he toſſing on his bed, ſometyme with cares oppreſt: And ſometymes ſhakte with Feuers fits, which makes him ſore diſtreſt. His Parents mourne his preſent ſtate, they ſeeke for Phiſickes arte: They ſpare no charges to ſuppreſſe, the terror of his ſmarte. No Potions, Oyntments, Salues, or cures, no Simples, nor Compounds: Nor Medicines made, by Phiſickes ſkyll, his furious fittes confounds. His Father tendring of his ſtate, bewayles his carefull caſe: And ſayth, my Sonne I doo perceyue, your ſorrowes by your face. I wiſt of late you were not well, when I your face dyd view: Your minde that tyme declarde your gréefe, by ſuddaine chaunge of hew. You are attatcht with lothſome looue, and ſubiect to his lawe: Whoſe furious force ſubdueth thoſe, whoſe yéeres are gréene and rawe. Declare therefore what ſo ſhee be, thou ſhalt haue my conſent: And doo not thus with troublous thoughts, thy carefull heart torment. His Mother lykewiſe dooth lament, her ſore diſeaſed ſonne: Her trickling teares along the bed, lyke ruſhing Riuers ronne. Shée dooth deſire to knowe his gréefe, but all theyr talke is vaine: Theyr waſted woordes doo more encreaſe, his dollor and his payne. (For many woords dooth greeue the ſicke, which peeuiſh are by kinde: As ſmall occaſions ſoone prouoke, an vncontented minde.) Therefore Syr Charles requeſts his Syre, and Mother in lyke caſe: (Leaſt that his preſence moue theyr gréefe) for to depart the place. Perſwading them they vexe his minde, with theyr continuall mone: And that he ſhould obtayne ſome ſléepe, if that they once were gone. His wofull Parents leaue him then, as lothe him to moleſt: Whome ceaſeleſſe ſmart of ſickneſſe ſharpe, had nowe ſo ſore oppreſt. When they were gone, he ſighes, he ſobs, and rayles on Fortune blinde: Diſpayring leaſt that ſickneſſe ſhould, his poynted knot vntwinde. Nowe dooth he wiſhe that Iulia knew, his ſickneſſe and his payne: So would ſhée not miſdoubt his looue, nor thinke that he did fayne. For ſickneſſe ſeldome couenaunt kéepes, mens honeſtie to ſaue: He pulles a man from myrth and ioy, and rowles him to his graue. Thus Charles amid his noyſome nyppes, dooth welter all in woe: And dooth deſire the winged Time, with lyngering ſteppes to goe. That he might haue his former health, his plighted vowe to ſaue: Before the time prefixed paſte, his full concourſe ſhould haue. But Time regardes no ſtate of man, he ſlily ſlippes by ſtealth: And tedious is to patients greeu'de, yet ſeemes but ſhort in health. The yéere dooth waſte, his courſe runs on, Dame Phoebae dooth againe: Remoue her former waſted hornes, and ſhines full bright and plaine. Nowe Iulia dooth with watching eye, for Charles returne attende: Perſwaded that this wiſhed tyme, ſhould former ſorrowes ende. Now ſhée prouides ſuch néedefull thinges, as dooth to her pertaine: And thus each day ſhée ſtoode in hope, of his returne againe. But when ſhée ſawe that truſtleſſe hope, dyd naught at all preuayle: Then ſhee miſdoubts that Charles his fraude hath cauſ'de his faith to fayle. A thouſand thoughts doo thrall her minde, ſome times ſhee hopes the beſt: Then blames him ſtraight, with breach of faith, and calles him guilefull gueſt. Some times ſhée thinkes ſome other Dame, had wun his wyll to chaunge: Againe, ſhée déemes ſome other let, dooth hinder him to raunge. But when ſhée ſawe the poynted tyme, to be ſo farre I ſpent: And that her hope was fruſtrate now, contrarie to conſent. Shée writes to him theſe folowing wordes, and willes him to beware: Leaſt VVynefrides plague for his vntroth, dooth breede his ceaſeles care. ¶The Letter of Iulia to Charles. THough lyngering long I truſted to thy loue, in hope thy deeds ſhold firm thy waſted words Yet now I deeme thy wauering mind doth moue, I beat the buſh, an other gets the byrds. The plighted tyme thou dydſt appoint to meete▪ is now expirde, and thou haſt broke thy vowe: Ne haſt thou ſent, by writinges me to greete, whereby the leſſe, I doo thy deedes alowe. The mighty Gods vouchſafe that Wynefride. doo not requite thy falſehood with deſart: For ſtayning ſo her Temple with a deede, whoſe falſe effect, dooth merite treble ſmart, Yet nay the leſſe though thou be falſe of faith: my hart ſhall ſtyll remaine thine owne for aye, Hap weale or woe, hap life or direfull death: I will no whit from fixed promiſe ſtraye. And ſo adiew, the Gods doo thee forgiue, though thou by fraude haſt bred my harts anoy: Yet doo I vowe, while I on earth doo liue, to pray the powers to graunt thee laſting ioy. Thy ſorowfull Ladie Iulia. THis done, ſhée cloſde it vp with ſpéede, and ſecretly ſhée ſendes: A meſſenger to Angleſie, who ſtraight his voyadge bendes. Who being come to Gaulfrides Court, to Charles he doth preſent: (Who lay full ſicke vpon his bed) this Letter which ſhée ſent. When as he knewe the ſame to come, from Iulia his (ſo déere) He felt his Feuer fits to faint, through newe reuiued chéere. When he had read her Letter through, which dyd his tariaunce blame: He calde for pen and ynke to write, an aunſwer to the ſame. Wherein he ſhowes his cauſe of ſtay, and that he meanes lykewiſe: To firme his vowe, when to his ſtate of health he ſhall ariſe. ¶The replie of Charles to Iulia her Letter. WIth treble thankes I greete thee heere againe, whoſe willīg hart doth wiſh my laſtīg welth Soregreu'd in minde, that chance doth me retain, and heauy hap doth ſo withholde my health. Wherby the cauſe of thy conceite doth ryſe, though no deſart may driue thy minde to dout: Yet my diſtreſſe apparaunt to thine eyes, ſhall driue the cauſe of ſuch ſuſpicion out. The truſt that thou repoſedſt in my looue, ſhall not be voyde, nor fruſtrate in effect: For why, my deeds ſhall plighted promiſe prooue if mighty God my lyngering life protect. Thou beateſt the buſh, and ſhalt the birds obtain, none other wight ſhall haue my hart in holde: Though time be paſt, yet time will come again, for to fulfill the vowed tale I tolde. I am no Paris, nor of Theſeus broode, ne yet am like to Iaſon moſt vniuſt: But Pyramus to ſpende my deareſt blood, or I to Thiſbe would be falſe of truſt. I truſt that Wynefride wyll no hate conceiue, ſith by the powers my let alone proceedes: Let her the guilty from their ioyes bereaue, and not the faultleſſe ſuffer for their deedes. It is not I, but Fortunes froward fate, that filde my hart with fits of Feuers force: That if thou ſhouldſt but view my preſent ſtate, thou wouldſt pronounce, I am ſom ſēceles corſe. But if the Gods vouchſafe my health to render, I wyll fulfill my former faythed vowe: Then ſhalt thou know how I thy loue do tender, though falſe ſuſpect retaines thy ſences now. And thus adiew in hope of health at hand, tyme ſhall at laſt, inchayne our bodies faſt: Though abſence thus do cauſe our greefes to ſtād, yet lyngering ioye will dubble be at laſt. Thine owne for euer, Charles. THis Letter made, the meſſenger of Iulia he dooth lende: Deſiring him vnto his Dame, with hart him to commende. Who ſtraight to Flint dooth hye apace, his meſſage to diſcharge: Who being gone, Charles féeles his fittes, of Feuers to enlarge. This night he takes no reſt at all, ſuch greefe his entrayles teare: His heauy heart thus long oppreſt, with waſtfull woe dooth weare. The meſſenger by this came home, whome Iulia longd to vewe: Saluting her with Charles his lynes, which dooth her ioyes renewe. She ſhut the doore, leaſt ſome ſhould ſpie, the Letter which was ſent: Which done, ſhe haſted it to reade, and ſtraight the ſeale ſhe rent. With fingers fine as white as ſnowe, ſhe rippes, and reades the ſame With watchfull eyes, as houering Hawke, dooth praye vpon her game. But when ſhe findes howe Agues fittes, hath ſhakte his hart ſo ſore: And howe his corpes conſumed is, with ſickneſſe more and more. The bryniſh teares dooth wet her cheekes, her ſight to reade they ſtoppe: The Chriſtall ſtreames in trickling wiſe, lyke ſiluer dewe dooth droppe. But when the ſpring of watrie droppes, was dried vp through want: To reade his déepe lamenting lynes, her tender hart dooth pant. Peruſing them▪ ſhée ſighes and ſobbes, to ponder his eſtate: Her Iſie cares and brandes of looue, doo bréede in breaſt debate. Alas (ſhée ſayde) what dooth it néede, to adde vnto my ſmart: The leaſt of theſe my cutting cares, may kyll a womans hart. I thought that I had paſt the pykes, and feelde of fighting grones: But nowe I ſée I haue to runne, a campe of ceaſeles mones. And where I thought that mariage Rytes, ſhould yeeld me gaine for gréefe: I ſee the dartes of Death at hand, which bréedes my ſorrowes chéefe. My fréende in paine (oh furious fates) nowe fie on Fortunes whéele: Sith I a wretche and ſimple ſoule, her pinching paines ſhall féele. But ſith what deſtinies decrée, of force muſt be fulfilde: My patient minde ſhall beare each brunt • , as Princely powers haue wilde. And thus as ſhee lamenting was, her gréefe, and carefull caſe: Her ſorrowes now began to ſwadge, ſhée wypte her watrie face. And foorth ſhee comes with fayned chéere, in countenaunce full glad: Although the thoughts of Charles his gréefe, dyd make her heart full ſad. Thus carefully ſhée driues the tyme, with ſecrete ſorrowes painde: Now this, now that tormentes her minde, as Fancies humors raynde. But ere ſeuen nightes ſpace were ſpent, ſhée longes to knowe againe: Of Charles his ſtate, and how his gréefe of Agues doo remaine. Shee tooke her pen as ready preſt, to him againe to write: For whome in panges of endles paine, ſhée languiſht day and night. But ere ſhée had fulfilde her minde, in wryting of her byll: Such carefull newes dooth cut it off, as made her want her wyll. Wherefore perpend her wauering ſtate, howe Fortunes whéele doth raunge: But firſt peruſe her carefull lynes, then marke their ſtorie ſtraunge. Iulia her Letter to Charles. I Haue receyued your dolefull lynes, which vnto me you ſent: Which greeuous newes when I peruſde, dyd much my minde torment. Within your Letter lapped was, a froſen clod of care: Which freeſde my hart with chylling colde, to reade your ſickneſſe rare. And though I doubted your deceyt, to lyke an other Dame: Yet pardon me. Looue hath no lawe, for Fancie moude the ſame. For heapes of care, in thoſe abounds, which coupled are with feare: And ielous Looue doubtes more then needes, as trueth can witneſſe beare. But ſith my Fortune is ſo harde, I would ſome other wight: Had reapt your looue, ſo ſhould you not, with Feuers fittes be fright. Or elſe I would I might ſuſtaine, the halfe of all your greefe: So ſhould I eaſe you of ſome cares, and heale my ſorrowes cheefe. But if that death by direfull dint, ſhould loſe your lew of life: Or ſiſters three ſhould cutte your twiſt, by fatall ſharpned knife. My gaſtlie goaſt ſhall follow faſt, to the Eliſian feeldes: Vnto the ſight of ſeemely Saintes, which endleſſe pleaſure yeeldes. Yea, though it were in Charons boate, downe Stigian ſtreame to ſlide: My ſprite ſhalbe thy walking mate, what ſo of me betide. And when the ground ſhalbe my graue, I wyll haue graued thereon. This mornefull vearſe, in dolefull wiſe, vpon my marble ſtone. Vnder this ſtone dooth Iulia lye. to Charles a faithfull freende: VVho vvillinglie to shewe her trueth, her carefull life did ende. The Ladies that heereafter liue, shall knowe by Iulias looue: Howe faithfull shee to Charles remaind, and neuer did remooue. WHen ſhée thus farre had paſt her pen, in came Alecto fell: Some grym Maegaera, ſtoong with lyes, a fearefull tale to tell. He ruſhing came into the Hall, and ſayde that Gaulfrides ſonne, Had yéelded vp his mortall lyfe, his finall race was runne▪ He dyd not onely ſay the ſame, but ſware by ſollem oath: The brute thereof once throughly ſpread, it was beléeu'de for troth. The cauſe wherefore this lye was ſpread, was this as I haue read: That Charles into a traunce did fall, and was reputed dead. His face was colde, his breath was gone, no lyfe in him appeares: They wrong his ioyntes, they bowde his breaſt, they thumpe him on the eares. They poure warme licquor down his throte his iawes they open wide: And ſo reduced him to lyfe, through that he did abide. And yet the rumor raſhly ranne, his life was paſt all cure: So ſwiftly lying Fame dooth flie, as tatling tongues procure. Hereof aroſe this lothſome lye, but (oh) you Ladies mourne: For now vnto a dolefull tale, my ſtyle I muſt retourne. For now as Iulia was applyed, to pen her inwarde paine: In came her Maide with gaſly lookes, and cryed out amaine. O Madame (quoth ſhée) heauy newes, I haue to you to ſhowe: To thinke whereon, my faynting heart dooth melt through waſtfull woe. What newes (quoth Iulia) lyfting vp her ſight (from paper ſtraight) Haſt thou to ſhewe, expreſſe the ſame, and let me heare them ſtraight. The Maide replyed, Sir Gaulfrides ſonne, that Charles hath to name: By death is now departed lyfe, as bruted is by fame. This pearſt her hart with deadly ſmart, this agrauates her paine: Nowe doth ſhée lothe her lyngering life, and doth the ſame diſdaine. Her quiuering quyll, from quaking hand, in faynting ſort doth fall: Shée floong away bothe incke and pen, and paper therewithall. And foorthwith dooth commaund her Maide, for to auoyde the place: Who being gone, ſhée ſcryketh out, in moſt lamentfull caſe▪ Shée rentes her haire, ſhée beates her breaſt, her blood from face is gone: Her hollowe lookes declarde her gréefe, that made her minde to mone. Shée dooth deuiſe which way to dye, for life ſhée lotheth ſtyll: Diſpayre byds her make no delay, but ſéeke her ſelfe to ſpyll. Yet faynting feare of femine hart, dooth fray her from the fact: And dreade of Gods, wylles her withholde, from ſuch a wicked act. At laſt ſhée dooth exclame one fate, and Fortunes waywarde whéele: That forced her in ſtéede of ioye, ſuch nypping cares to feele. O Heauens (quoth ſhée) what lowring lot, of moſt vnluckie happe: Hath moou'd ſuch furie to my chaunce, to trayne me in this trappe? O mightie God, vouchſafe (quoth ſhée) thine eares for to encline: Let dreadfull Death thy meſſenger, ſhut vp my corpes in ſhrine. Let me not liue, ſith he is gone, that ſhould my life ſupport: For Death is ſwéete, and Life is ſowre, where care is chéefe comfort. It were too long to write her plaintes, and carefull ſcriching cryes: Or to expreſſe what floods of teares, dyd flowe from out her eyes. But ſtraight amyd theſe paſſions ſtraunge, from Chamber ſhée dooth part: And walkes the féeldes adioyning néere, for to refreſhe her hart. Where being come, in mornefull wiſe ſhée dooth her gréefe relate: That hyls and dales, with woods and groues may knowe her ruthfull ſtate. Her waſted wordes, like Eccho dooth, amyd the Trées reſound: And with her teares like morning dew, ſhée wets the graſſie ground. And thus ſhée walkes, tyll Phoebus lampe, had loſt his loouely lyght: Then to her Chamber ſhée returnes, to waſte the wearie night. Vpon her Princely bed foorthwith, ſhée throwes her carefull corſe: Where blacke diſpayre aſſaylde her ſtraight, with fittes of treble force. A thouſand meanes ſhée doth deuiſe, to ſheare her lyne of life: Some times with coarde, ſome times with drinks, ſome times with caruing knife. At laſt ſhée ſtaide her ſtaggering minde, with purpoſe full decréede: Ere Sol aboue the Horizon, dyd caſt his glauncing gleede. To VVynefrides Temple for to goe, her prayers for to make: And ere that ſhee came home againe, her lyfe there to forſake. Euen there ſhée dyd determine ſure, where firſt ſhée found the flame: The water of her wicked déedes, ſhould quickly quench the ſame. As Phillis ended vp her dayes, with twyne of ſilken corde: So would ſhée leaue her lothſome life, which ſhée ſo much abhorde. Thus raging in theſe reſtleſſe thoughts, tyll lyghtſome morning tyde: Shée ſtraight vpſtart, and goes about, her offerings to prouide. With Incenſe and ſuch néedefull thinges, to VVynefride ſhee hyes: To execute her fancied fact, which ſhe did late deuiſe. The way was ſhort, not paſt a myle, ſhe haſted thether ſtraight: And into Church ſhe roundly goes, her matters were of waight. She knéeling downe in humble wiſe, within that wonted place: Where all ſuch ſate as did diſcende, of worthy Owens race. Her prayers done, ſhe gins to pawſe, vpon her lewde pretence: And howe the ſame to Parents hers, might breede a fowle offence. Beſides the blotte of blacke defame, that on her kinne ſhould lyght: With loſſe of honour to her ſelfe, and Ladies fowle deſpight. Conſidering this, her minde dooth chaunge, vnto an other way: And nowe ſhe findes an other pathe, to frame her owne decay. And thus perplext with thouſand thoughts, to VVynefride ſhe cryes: O Virgin thou, whoſe flyttering fame, dooth pearce the azurde Skies. Whoſe glorie glaunceth like the gleames, of golden Tytans rayes: Whoſe Dyans deedes deſerue the pricke. of ſempiternall prayſe. Bowe downe thy eares to thy handmaide, that dooth not life deſire: But that the ſiſters three vouchſafe, my death for to conſpire. My twiſt they haue drawne foorth too long, which ſhould haue taken ende: when direfull deſtinies decreede, to ſpoyle me of my freende. But ſith the fates ſo furiouſly, haue refte him from my ſight: In whome conſiſted all my hope, of ſolace and delight. Should I deſire to feede my corpes, with faynting breath perdie: And he ingrupled in his graue, on whome my life dooth lie? How ſhould I waſte my wearie time, in ioye or wonted mirth: VVhen wrauling woorms do craſe his corps, within the maſſy earth? O would I were ſome ſenceleſſe beaſt, deuoyde of reaſons kinde: So ſhould I feele no fittes of paine, for to torment my minde. I would Diana would decree, to graunt me Acteons ſtate: So Sorrowes Houndes ſhould hale my hart, out of this dire debate. Vouchſafe O Ioue that guidſt the Sphaeres, to reaue from me my life: That I may ende this carefull courſe, which breedes my guiltleſſe ſtrife. And graunt the gaſping earth that gapes, for all thinges that ſhe gaue: May lodge my coarſe that faine would reſt, within her ſwallowing caue. Let me for Courtlie garmentes gay, poſſeſſe a winding ſheete: And let my cyndred moulde in earth, be troden downe with feete. O let my dolefull Dirge be ſong, in ſteede of Mariage feaſt: And for my coſtlie ſpowſall Cowtch, lay me in graue to reaſt. And where that Hymaen ſhould vs knitte, in Iunos bandes for aye: Alecto and Maegaera bothe, let them in preſence ſtaye. And where Lucina ſhould obtaine, a place by roome of right: Their Tiſiphone ſhall remaine, with lookes of fowle deſpight. O graunt the ſame you heauens I craue, my prayers heare with ſpeede: For I by death wyll loſe my life, ſith fates haue ſo decreede. WHen ſhe had vttered foorth her plaints, then homewarde ſtraight ſhe went: Withhelde by ſome celeſtiall power, from former fowle intent. To Chamber backe ſhe dooth returne, ere any roſe from reſt: And round about her Chamber runnes, with carefull thoughts oppreſt. And when the houſeholde ready were, ſhe willes her Mayde goe call One of her Fathers men foorthwith, whome ſhe muſt ſpeake withall. To whom ſhe ſaith, you know where dwels the Ioyner not farre hence: Requeſt him for to come to me, for I muſt néedes comence With him about a certayne thing, The ſeruaunt goes ſtraight way: And brought the Ioyner vnto her, that dyd his comming ſtay. Who being come, to him ſhe ſayth, my fréende I you requeſt: Such cunning as you haue to ſhewe, and doo for me your beſt. For I would haue a Cheſt ſo made, that neyther ayre nor ſhowre: No rayne nor waters flood it ſhould, in any place deuowre. But being ſhut, to kéepe all foorth, by meanes of pitche and tarre: This would I haue you doo with ſpéede, no tyme for to defarre. And I wyll recompence your paines, vnto the vtmoſt part: That your requitall ſhall excéede, the full of your deſart. The Ioyner aunſweres her againe, with reuerence due likewiſe: O Madame mine, my ſkyll herein, your purpoſe ſhall ſuffiſe. I wyll ſo frame your Cheſt, that rayne, nor waters waſhing wane: Nor miſtes of foggie ayre ſhall come, in this contriued caue. So ſone as homewarde I returne, to worke thereon I meane: So that or thrée dayes be expyrde, it ſhall be finiſht cleane. And ſo he tooke his leaue of her, and homewarde dooth returne: And ſhe being galde with former gréefes, beginnes a freſhe to mourne. The ceaſeleſſe teares along her chéekes, a printed pathe haue made: Her inwarde cares hath forced quite, her outwarde hew to vade. Tormented thus with griſlie greefe, her Chamber ſhe dooth kéepe: And ſolytarilie ſhe ſittes, her wayling woes to wéepe. And when that wearineſſe conſtraines, abroade her to ſoiorne: Her woes doo make her walkes but ſhort, ſhe makes a quick returne. But when before her Parentes face, ſhe dooth appearaunce make: She noynts her face with fine perfumes, her ſorrowing ſignes to breake. But leaſt I ſhould too tedious ſéeme, the Ioyner comes at laſt: With pitched Cheſt, moſt cloſely framde, the water for to caſt. And Iulia payes him doubble hyre, his paines for to requight: He takes the ſame with treble thankes, and ſo departes her ſight. But when that Phoebe ſpread her light, within the Welkin hye: Her Mayde and ſhe conuayes the ſame, (when none coulde it eſpie) Vnto the ſhore, the Sea being néere, this ſecretly was wrought: As for the Maide, of her deceyt, God knowes but lyttle thought. But ſhe pretendes a farther fetch, when midnight flood drawes neere: A deſperate déede, ſhe hath decréede, as you foorthwith ſhall heare. When man and beaſt, and each thing elſe, theyr naturall reſt dooth take: When as her Maide with all the houſe, Sir Somnus fléepes doo ſhake. When whiſtling windes doo ceaſe to blowe, when waters rage are ſtyll: When wauering leaues, on ſhaking Trées, doo ſtay and ceaſe to ſpyll. When twinkling Starres amyd the ſkies, moſt glyſteringly doo ſhine: And euerie thing declares the night, hath wun his middle time. Then deſperate Iulia dooth aryſe, and ventreth foorth of doore: Where ſhe her curſed Coffin found, harde by the ſalt Sea ſhore. But oh, drawe néere you Virgins all, you Ladies héere beholde: A truſtie Dame, the faythfulſt hart, yframde of womans moulde. She ſtoode vpright within the Cheſt, which waues yet moued not: And caſting oft her eyes to lande. ſhe thus lamentes her lot. O God that gouernſt heauen and hell, the Sea and the drie lande: Vouchſafe for to receyue my ſoule, into thy gratious hande. Which ſoule I firſt to thee bequeathe, that long hath lodgde in moude: And durtie droſſe of clottered clay, my body to the floode. And ſith the ſoule of my deere freende, hath runne his mortall race: I hope our ſhapeles ghoſtes in Skies, with ioye ſhall bothe embrace. And for the ſolemne ſacred oath, that we on earth haue made: Though direfull death by deſtinie, hath cauſde our promiſe fade. Yet doo I truſt amyd the heauens, we ſhall the ſame fulfill: Where ioyntly we may bothe enioy, thy Princelie preſence ſtill. You Parentes, and my freendes adiew, I byd you bothe farewell: Bewayle not you, nor weepe my want, that needes no paſsing bell. Keepe not my funerals with wayles, nor moiſt my death with teares: For why, my coarſe ſhall want no wet, ſeeing Seas ſuch moiſture beares. Though Fiſhes ſhall feede on my fleſhe, my Dirge ſhall Syrens ſing: The freendlie fiſhe that Dolphin hight, me to my graue ſhall bring. BY this her barge on wallowing waues, dooth ſwym in ruthfull wiſe: And ſhe aloofe in Seas alas, to heauen dooth lyft her eyes. Deſiring God in mercie great, for to beholde her caſe: When as the byllowes againſt her boate, dooth bounce and beate apace. The waters driue her to the déepe, and floods ſometime flaſh in: Whoſe Iſie colde to her full ſtraunge, dooth wet her tender ſkin. But ſhe alas dooth lye along, within this hollowe wombe: And faſtened ſure the vpper part, of her vntymelie Tombe▪ At laſt ſyr Boreas with his breath, dooth driue her Ship from ſhore: Which ſwifter ſlides vpon the Seas, then Boate by force of Ore. Her body thus incloſde therein, in quiuering ſort dooth quake: Lyke as the wauering Aſpen leafe, by Notus blaſte dooth ſhake. And when Titonia dooth appeare, to driue away the night: Her toſſed Bardge in midſt of Seas, is ſéene in open ſight. This day to Flint was day of doome, this blacke day had no lyght. This troublous tyme encreaſt their cares, and made their day like night. This was beginner of their gréefes, and ender of their ioyes: This day dyd holde their heauy harts, in heapes of déepe annoyes. But when that Iulias Maide began, from ſluggiſhe ſléepe to riſe: And coulde not finde her Miſtereſſe there, great feare dooth her ſuppriſe. She runneth vp and downe the houſe, enquiring of each wight: If they did not her Miſteriſſe ſée, ſince morning lent his lyght. But when no worde of her ſhe hearde, ſhe rent and tare her haire: And to her Parentes ranne foorthwith, theſe ruthfull newes to beare. She tolde them of the pitched Cheſt, that ſhe to ſhore had brought: And howe that of her meaning then, no whit at all ſhe thought. Theſe newes dyd ſo amaze their mindes, theyr colour ginnes to vade: Such quaking feare within theyr hartes, theſe tydinges true haue made. Their lothſome lookes declares their greefe, and dooth expreſſe their paine: His gréefe was ſuch as could not wéepe, ſhe ſpent her teares amaine. Theyr houſehold folks, and neighbors by, bewayles theyr heauy happe: And doo lament theyr luckleſſe loſſe, at ſuch a ſuddaine clappe. They all foorthwith in mornefull wiſe, to ſea warde doo repayre: Whoſe yelling cryes and ſcriching ſoundes, dooth fill the emptie ayre. The wambling waues, the crooked créekes, theyr ſorrowing cries reſounde: The belowing breath yt breaks theyr breſts, dooth make the bankes rebounde. The Mother when ſhe ſawe the print, of Cheſt engrau'de in ſandes: Dyd fall downe ſtraight into a ſowne, and ſtretched foorth her handes. And when ſhe was reuokte againe, vnto her former ſtate: With faynting voyce, ſhe thus gan ſpeake, why hindred you my fate? Why ſuffred you not me to reſt, héere dead vpon this ſhore: That waſhing waues might carie me, to her that is my ſtore? But Fortune pittying of theyr playntes, ſendes Mercurie with ſpéede: To Neptune God of ſwelling Seas, to ſtaye his force with ſpéede. For ſhe would ſende a luckie Shippe, of Albanie to ſaue: The ſéelie Maide that thus was toſte, within her carefull caue. This Hulke from forraine landes did come, yfraught with traffikes trade: And towarde Albanie with haſte, his ſpéedie paſſadge made. The Seas were calme, ye winds blowe ſtill, the luſtie Mariners ſing: To thinke vpon theyr pleaſant gale, they made the Seas to ring. Thus Neptune was theyr truſty fréende, and Phoebus ſpread his light: Which on the ſmoothe and waters calme, dooth glyſter fayre and bright. The Sunne dooth ſhine vpon the ſayles, yſtufte with wiſhed blaſt: And as they thus dyd cutte the tyde, they ſpide the Cheſt at laſt. Wherein Dame Iulia was encloſde, and muſde what it ſhould bée▪ The Maiſters Mate dyd launche a Cocke, and quicklie went to ſee. What bootie it was that they from bourde, aloofe in Seas eſpied: He rowes apace tyll he oretooke, it tombling with the tyde. With grapling hookes, he foorthwith hales, this newe found praye to Ship: The Marriners helpe, through hope therof, on hatches faſt they ſkip. But when they had diſcloſde the ſame, and founde therein a Maide: Of Princely fauour, freſh and fayre, theyr hartes were ſore afraide. They muſed how this chaunce ſhould come, and tooke her carkaſe weake: Whoſe legges could not ſupport her corpes, nor yet her tongue could ſpeake. But being reuiu'de with vitall drinkes, her ioynts retaine theyr ſtrength: Her dazeled eyes receyued theyr ſight, her tongue dyd ſpeake at length. Then they demaunded of her ſtraight, what chaunce had brought her thether: Or who committed her to Seas, to féele bothe winde and weather. Whoſe ſéemely ſight dyd ſo ſurpaſſe, and rather dyd deſerue: Amyd the troupe of Courtly traines, ſome Princely péere to ſerue. Then ſhe with heauy chéere (God knowes) began for to relate: The whole diſcourſe of all her gréefe, and of her frowarde fate. Deſiring them of pittie pure, to graunt her ſmall requeſt: And of two thinges to graunt her one, which may procure her reſt. Eyther to throwe her into Seas, or carie her, where ſhe May leade a ſole Religious life, from cares to ſet her frée. Declaring then that when at firſt, ſhe cloſde her ſelfe in Cheſt: She thought the waters from her woes, would bring her dayes to reſt. But ſith that Fortune ſo was found, to be her fréendly foe: Some forraine coaſt ſhould her retaine, to extenuate her woe. They dyd recomfort her againe, and bade her not diſmay: For that they were no Pyrates preſt, her body to betray. Ne were they any letchers lewde, of brutiſhe ſauadge kinde: To ſpoyle her chaſte Uirginitie, or marre her Maydens minde. But bad her thanke the heauenly powers, that had ordayned ſo: That they amyd the ſurging waues, her Cheſt by chaunce dyd knowe. For they would ſo prouide for her, that ſhe ſhould haue a place: To ſpende her tyme in mateleſſe myrth, and runne a quiet race. This ſayde, they hoyſted vp theyr ſayles, and forwarde faſt did hye: No frowarde windes dyd let theyr courſe, theyr wiſhed lande to ſpye. But puffing ſayles, with gladſome gales, in wiſhed wiſe dyd ſwell: And ſwiftlyer dyd theyr Ship ſlide foorth, then any tongue can tell. The caruing kéele dooth cutte the waues, the maynſayle, topſayle, and The Myſſen ſpréete ſayle further courſe, alofte the flagge dooth ſtand. The Pylote markes his compaſſe well, and Carde with tentiue eye: The Maiſters mate dooth guide the Sterne, or Rudder rightfullie. The Mariners on the Hatches cloſe, to dice doo fall apace: In token of a pleaſaunt gale, to further foorth theyr race. Thus ſundring of the byllowes ſmall, (the coaſt being fayre and cleare) At laſt the toppes of haughty hylles, within theyr ſight appeare. They paſſe the mayne Sea at the length, and ſtraight one dooth adreſſe To ſounde, and cryes alowde (my mates) two fadomes quarter leſſe. Approching néerer to the lande, each one his tackling plyes: They ſtryke down ſayles, the Bark rode on, with ſtealing ſteppes likewiſe. At Hauen mouth they doo diſcharge, a fayre tryumphant peale: That to the Towne they plainly may, theyr voyage ſafe reueale. The Cannons, Culuerings, Sakers, and the Fawcons breathed fyre: The Demy péeces, Baſſyliskes, fowle ſtynking flames dyd ſpyre. The thundring ſhot dyd rore in th'Ayre, and Eccho lyke dooth ſound: The banckes and craggie créekes lyke caſe, doo make the noyſe redound. The flaunting Flagge dooth floriſh foorth, that ſtoode aloft on Maſt: The Anckors crookt with cables ſtrong, out of the Ship are caſt. And when they entred were on land, within the Hauen Towne: Th'inhabitaunts doo welcome them, with myrth and hye renowne. Each one makes merry with his fréend, they paſſe the tyme in ioye. But Iulia hath no fréendly mate, to comfort her annoye. You Maydens all, and Ladies bothe, marke Iulias heauy ſtate: And take enſample by her looue, which ſorrowes could not bate, Though once ſhe had the world at wyll, if ſhe had kept her ſoe: Yet Looue and Fortune many tymes, doo bréede men mickle woe. And though ſhe paſſing panges dyd féele, and all for Charles his ſake: She dooth no whit repent her gréefes, which ſhe for him dyd take. But to be bréefe, within this Towne, was kept a Monaſterie: Where were a ſort of nuſled Nunnes, that lyu'de there ſolemnlie. Wherein by ſute ſhe dooth obtayne, a Veſtal Uirgins trade: And there Religiouſly to lyue, tyll vitall breath dyd vade. But now my wearied pen muſt paſſe, from Iulias lyfe a whyle: (Who in Albania ſolie lyues,) to Charles Ile frame my ſtile. Who by this tyme recouered health, and left his ſicklie bead: And heard not yet of Iulias chaunce, that thought him to be dead. Nowe he pretendes to lincke with her, his former vowe to ſaue: Prouiding him ſuch néedefull thinges, as his affayres dooth craue. And ſent foorthwith a Meſſenger, his fréende the Préeſt to pray: To come to him, as promiſe was, who came without delay▪ They onely two, theyr voyage framde, this Mariage knot to tye: Which they before, by ſolemne oath, had ſworne, but ſecretly. Charles rode on towards Flint apace, and thought him ſelfe well bleſt: That tyme was come for him to match, with her he lyked beſt. The néerer vnto Flint he came, the greater was his ioye: But when as he was thether come, he felt as great annoye. He déemde this tyme would make amends, for all his former woes: But it dyd more encreaſe his cares, then pen can well diſcloſe. When he was come to Wynefrides Church, where as he longde to bée: He lyghted downe where he was wont, his Lady for to ſée. There dooth he meane for to abyde, tyll Phoebus loſt his lyght: And that his ſiſter Phoebe ſhynde, who rules the clowdy night. Then dooth he meane to ſend for her, to finiſhe vp the oath: That each of them to others made, by former plighted troth. He lytle thought that ſhe was gone, to leade a Nunlyke lyfe: Or that in Albanie ſhe was, whome he ſhould take to wife. But as he walked in the yarde, with countenaunce full glad: One comes and dooth declare the chaunce, his dolefull Iulia had. And howe ſhe layde the Cheſt at ſhore, and cloſde her ſelfe therein: And howe her death was ſore bewaylde, not onely by her kin. But alſo by all thoſe that dwelt, within the courſe of Flint: Whoſe looue of all to her was ſuch, theyr plaints they could not ſlint. And how the flowing waters did, orewhelme her Cheſt in Seas: Whoſe body drenched ſo in floods, dooth Parentes gréefe increaſe. You Loouers that vnto your Dames, are faithfull iuſt and true: May note what ſorrowes touched Charles. and made his heart to rue. The froſen ſound of which colde wordes, dyd ſterue his heauy hart: Whoſe trickling teares dyd ſtay his tongue, for to expreſſe his ſmart. His preſent hue bothe wan and pale, declard his inward gréefe: His ruddy collour now is gone, he hopes of no reléefe. His hollowe eyes and ſtaring lookes, his ſighes and ſobs extréeme: Are witneſſe of his wofull ſtate, as dyd full plainly ſéeme. All myrth and pleaſure now is gone, conuerted ſoone to paine: And where before he wiſht to lyue, now dooth he lyfe diſdaine. Now déepe diſpayre hath wun the place, where hope before was fixt: Affections lewde, and fancies fonde, amyd his thoughts are mixt. In deſperate wiſe he runnes about, deuiſing euery way: How he might eaſe his corpes of cares, that thus in ſtrife dooth ſtay. One whyle he meanes to run to ſhore, to pearce his tender hart: Where as his Iulia ſhipping tooke, from Flint for to depart. An other whyle he thought in Church, his owne decay to frame: Where he at firſt infected was, with Cupids firie flame. Againe he thought to drowne him ſelfe, within the ſalt Sea flood: Whereas his Iulia caſt her ſelfe, when on the ſhore ſhe ſtood. That by that meanes his carkaſe might, be buried in that graue: Which ſhe in ſtéede of Marble ſtone, had choſen for her caue. Or if the waters had by force, caſt vp her corpes on ſande: He thought that Fortune would conduct, him to that plot of lande. Thus toſſed long with diuers thoughts, theſe fancies paſſe away: Then he beginnes to curſe his lettes, that dyd his promiſe ſtay. He bannes his ſickneſſe which was cauſe, of all his care and gréefe: And wiſheth medcines had bene bane, which lent him late reléefe. He cryes on fates that haue prolongd, his luckleſſe lyne of lyfe. And dooth deſire his twiſte to cut, by dyrefull caruing knife. But when the force of furies rage, by fancies flaming fire: Was quighte extinct, and reaſons rule, had coolde his hote deſire. With wiſedome then he wiſely wayes, his former fancies paſt: And is decréede to ſtay bis minde, by reaſons rayne at laſt. This way to leade a wandring lyfe, the faithfull youth can chuſe: In forrayne landes to waſte his dayes, and mourne theſe noyſome newes. But chaunge of place cannot transforme, nor alter any minde: Though ayre and ſoyle he doo exchaunge, his greefe dooth ſtay by kinde. He thought if in his countrey he, ſhould longer tyme abyde: The freſhe remembraunce of his looue, from him would neuer ſlyde. And that by traueyling long he ſhould, ſhake from his troubled minde: Theſe cutting cares and ceaſeleſſe gréefes, which deſtenies aſſignde. And being thus determined, to take his vnknown flight: He dooth returne vnto the Préeſt, that lodgde at Inne that night. There vnto him he telles his caſe, and howe he dooth pretend: For to forſake his countrey ſtraight, with Father and each fréend. And that he wyll no more returne, tyll Fortune ſend ſome chaunce: To baniſh all his preſent cares, and paſſed ioyes t'aduaunce. The Presbiter with good aduiſe, dooth counſayle him againe: His fancies fonde, and raging thoughts, by reaſon to refraine. Perſwading him that though he chaunge, his countrey and his kin: His minde ſhall maſke in mateleſſe mone, his ſorrowes wyll not lin. And ſayth good Sir, leaue of your playnts, let wiſedome guide your wyll: And let not youthfull fancies fonde, oppreſſe dame Reaſons ſkyll▪ Knowe this, that ſorrow hurtfull is, to them that take the ſame: And nought auayles them that be dead, but is to men great ſhame. Your mourning can not call the dead, to former ſtate of lyfe: Nor all the teares that you can ſhed, cannot redeeme your wife. Your peregrines, your ſighes and ſobs, your trauayle and your paine: May not reduce your Iulia, vnto her lyfe againe. You ſhew therefore great want of wit, as euery man may ſee: That doo ſo vainly goe about▪ to wyll that may not bée. You knowe what deſtenies decrée, we muſt of force obay: And what the fates ordayne to yéelde, with wylling minde alway. Conſider that a wiſe man ought, with patient minde to beare: What ſo the Princely powers decrée, and neyther hope nor feare. In vaine he ſéekes that goes about, againſt the Heauens to ſtriue: Wherefore with reaſon rule your minde, for Ladies are a lyue, That are as comely as ſhe was, to whome you lent your looue: Whoſe fauour you may eke obtaine, if you your minde remooue. Though Fortune now haue cauſd your loſſe, in breeding of your care: Yet tarying tyme, ſhe wyll againe, your former ioyes repayre. For as the pleaſures that ſhe lendes, doo not continue ſure: Euen ſo the trouble that ſhe ſendes, can not alwayes endure. Though ſhe with frowning froſen face, doo lowre on you a whyle: Yet dooth her fauour come as faſt, when as ſhe lyſt to ſmyle. A wiſe man in the mydſt of cares, with wit him ſelfe dooth arme: So that no ſtormes of ſturdy ſtrife, can ought procure his harme. For as the Poet Homer faynes, that Aten barefoote goes: She can not touch no harde thing ſure, but lyghtly treades on thoſe That armed are with conſtancie, and patiently abide: Each ſturdy ſtorme that Fortune ſendes, at euerie tyme and tyde. Whereby is meant calamitie, whereof ſhe Goddeſſe is: Can not bereaue a wiſe mans heart, from quiet patient bliſſe. But ſuch as are of ſimple minde, effemynate and baſe: Whoſe tender hearts can not abyde, Dame Fortunes hye diſgrace. Wherefore good Sir, content your ſelfe, with reaſon rule your minde: Embrace Dame Patience in your breaſt, ſo ſhall you comfort finde. Beſtowe your looue within your ſtronde, where are ſuch ſtore of Dames: As you may largely take your choyſe, and ſo quight quench your flames. Conſider if you doo forſake, your Parents and your fréends: And goe into a place vnknown, then all your pleaſures endes. Ne dare I backe returne againe, for feare of future happe: Your Parents bothe wyll wayle your loſſe, wherefore preuent the trappe. That may intangle them in gréefe, and ſhorten not theyr dayes: That haue bene carefull for your lyfe, in all your paſſed wayes. Wherefore I craue, aboliſh wyll, let wiſedome you retayne: Let Prudence eke by due foreſight, preuent all future payne. And take my counſayle in good part, that wylles you to be wiſe: Nor let no gréefes nor ſorrowes paſt, your preſents thought ſuppriſe. When he had ſpent ſuch wordes (as theſe) Sir Charles dyd ſtraight replie: You haue but waſted thus much winde, I lyke it not perdie. Not all the world can me perſwade, my Iulia to forget: So ſtedfaſtly vpon her looue, my conſtant heart is ſet. I can not blot out of my minde, her fréendſhip and good wyll: Which hytherto I haue retaynd, and ſo I wyll doo ſtyll. Her feature I doo ſtyll beholde, within my carefull minde: Though ſhe by death departed is, and I am left behinde. Yet whyle I liue her monument, within my minde ſhall reſt: Which was her true and truſty hart, within her conſtant breſt. Should I goe ſéeke to lyue in myrth, or yet to haue mine eaſe: And ſhe to lodge among the waues, in mydſt of ſurging Seas. No no, no daungers ſhall preuayle, to make my heart to ſhrinke: Although it were in honeſt wiſe, in ſaltiſhe Seas to ſinke. I would vpon my ſelfe reuenge, her death were yet no ſhame: But that the lawe of God and man, dooth quite forbyd the ſame. Yet doo I hope as Fortune brought, me to beſtowe good wyll: So wyll ſhe ſend ſome kinde of meanes, by chaunce my lyfe to ſpyll. But as the peryls of the Seas, She dyd for me long take: Euen ſo the daungers of the lande, Ile ſuffer for her ſake. She reft of lyfe, dooth ryde on waues, that héere and there dooth raunge: And I in wandring ſort wyll paſſe, through Countries farre and ſtraunge. No daungers ſhall affright my minde, yea, were it for to paſſe: Euen downe to hell for her ſwéete ſake, where Orpheus ſometyme was. Therefore leaue off your waſtfull wordes, for what I haue decréede: My purpoſe is not to delay, but put in proofe with ſpéede. When as the Préeſt perceiued him, his follyes to purſue: And that he could not him perſwade, he dooth his raſhneſſe rue. And gan him ſelfe for to debate, if he ſhould backe retyre: His Parents would ſuſpect that he, theyr ſonnes death dyd conſpyre. He therefore thought it better way, then to reuert againe: To goe with him, though of his gréefes, he tooke ſome part of paine. And thus being bothe determined, not backwarde to returne: Sir Charles laments his looue, the Préeſt his Countries loſſe dooth mourne. But Charles (God knowes) had tryple cauſe, for to lament in minde: Who loſt his looue, and left bothe kin, and Countreyes ſight behinde. When they had ended all theyr plaints, to Couche apace they hyde: Where ſoking ſorrowes, for to ſléepe, them vtterly denyde. Yet Nox by courſe, dooth run her race, theyr cares thoe dyd not ceaſe: But as the night dyd waxe away, euen ſo theyr gréefes increaſe. When Lucifer Dame Venus ſtarre, dooth gliſter in the Skie: In Eaſterne coaſt, denoting plaine, that Titans ſpowſe is nie. Theſe woefull mates, aroſe foorthwith, from out theyr reſtleſſe bed: And to the Ile that Brittons callde, Ile Mona, bothe they fled. Where they lyke faithfull fréends doo lyue, but yet in mornefull wiſe: As Oreſtes, and Pilades, whoſe ſorrowes, books compriſe. Thus Charles ſtyll toſt, with cruſhing cares, which vext his ſecrete hart: To wayle his waſtleſſe woes oft tymes, would drawe him ſelfe a part. And to the Sunne would thus complaine, O Titan it may bee: That thou this tyme by farre reacht lookes, my Iulias corpes dooſt ſée. I would thou hadſt ſuch vttering woords, as thou haſt ſhining beames: Then wouldſt thou ſhew, if now her bardge, doo floote on ſtriuing ſtreames. Or if the ſame on ſhore be caſt, by meanes of toſſing tyde: O that thou would expreſſe to me, where Iulia dooth abyde. Where ſo her coarſe dooth reſt, I would▪ what daunger ſo befell: Remayne with her, if thou to me, her byding place wouldſt tell. But ſith thou want'ſt the vſe of ſpéeche, to bring me to her ſight: Yet for my ſake beſtowe on her (then wont) a fréendlyer light. When obſcure clowdes doo dym thy beames, and darke thy ſhining rayes: Let not her corpes yet want thy lyght, that in the Seas decayes. Thus vnto Fowles, to Trées and Beaſts, and ſtones he would complaine: As though they wit and ſenſes had, his meaning to retaine. The lande of Ladies bréed his gréefe, and Muſicke cauſde his mone: Theyr ſugred words, myrthes, ſiluer tunes, in gréefe would make him grone. The Préeſt alſo laments his lot, as he alone dooth trace: And often to his Countries ſoyle, his ſtaring eyes would gaze. He wiſheth ſtyll her carkaſe there, where as his hart dooth reſt: Such troubled thoughts he carries aye, within his beating breſt. But fewe affection fonde can tame, or Cupids force withſtande: For greefe and looue, are voyde of reſt, bothe bound in ſorrowes bande. If body might flie where the minde is oftentimes retaind: Full many would not vſe that place, where elſe they are conſtraind. Thus though they vſe t'acquaint themſelues with ſtates, and of the beſt: Yet could no pleaſures purchaſe place, within their carefull breſt. Inceſſaunt cares thus pyning them, redoubling daylie woes: They thought to ſeek theyr deaths foorthwith amyd theyr blooddy foes. They gin therefore t'enquire for warres, Where often death is found, Afore the tyme: where bloody blowes, in boyſterous ſort abound. That vſing feates of manly Mars, they may cut of theyr care: And rather ſhorten vp theyr lyues, then lyue ſtyll in diſpayre. When Lady Ver had thinly clothed, Sir Tellus gay with gréene: Since their arriuall there where now, nine quarters they haue béene. The men of Albanie that tyme, were at a ciuill warre: As Fortune ſendeth ſometymes lucke, for Regions nie and farre. The King was fayne to ſend for ayde, to Mona, where he had: Well furniſht men, whereof the Préeſt, and Charles were verie glad. The courteſie that Charles this whyle, vſde in this Ilande Towne: Dyd drawe the hearts of many men, that were of hye renowne. He therefore ioyfull at theſe newes, dyd moue his ſute as then: To Chyrall of the Ile to haue, the chardge of hundreth men. Such fréendſhip he therein obtaynde, that though a ſtraunger borne: Yet dyd they graunt to him his ſute, and thought thereof no ſcorne. Thus Vertue makes a ſtraunger oft, full naturall to growe: Within a forrayne countrey ſtraunge, where no man dooth him knowe. The Gouernour of the Ile that tyme, dyd héere report of right: Of Charles his ſkyll in Martiall feates, who was a valiant Knight. Whoſe courage ſtoute (yet mylde and méeke) with forwarde actiueneſſe: Declarde although his yeeres were rawe, his proweſſe and worthineſſe. For wiſedome had beſtowed on him, her precious giftes at large: Which rather furthred his requeſt, to haue a Chéeftaynes charge. The Souldiers lyked ſo of him, that they doo all agrée: With franke conſent, that he on them, a Gouernour ſhould bée. He being choſen Captaine nowe, to goe to Alban lande. Selected him an expert man, Lieutenaunt of his bande. The Auncient bearer he dyd chuſe, his Enſigne to diſplay: The Sergeant Corporall to kéepe, his Souldiers in aray. A Trumpeter with mighty breath, to ſounde the feates of warre: The Phife and Drumſter with his ſtickes, to make the Drum to iarre. The Préeſt he alſo dooth appoynt, in Office for to ſtand: As fit for him to kéepe his booke, as Clarke of all his band. A gallant Galley was ordaind, the Souldiers to tranſport: Wherein they went, and quickly came, to king of Albans Court. Of whome they were well entertaynd, the Tents foorthwith prepard: And ſtrongly pitched, the Trenches delued, the regall Campe to gard. The lyght Horſemen, with Iack & Speare, and ſteelly cappes foorth went: To ſcoute abroade, the Launces ſtraight, to reſcue them were ſent. In priſon pathes, leaſt enimies, ſhould paſſage haue that way: Olde ſturdy Stagers, wiſe in warres, in ſecrete ambuſh lay. Munitions, Rampyres, foorth were framde, them from theyr foes to ſhéeld: The braſen péeces caried were, that fitteſt were for féeld. The Rebels lykewiſe had prepard, a power huge and tall: The Varlets meant (but God would not) to giue theyr Prince a fall. The Wings, ye Fronts, the Battell mayne, were ordred on each ſide: The Enſignes noted how the one, the others force defide. The Hoaſtes now marcht in Battell ray, tyll bothe ſides were in view: And eke in reache, then Trumpetters, an eger Onſet blew. Round boyſterous balles of ſturdy ſtéele, the Cannons breathes about: The Curriers and Calliuers then, theyr leaden pellets ſhoute. The prauncing Courſers with this noyſe, to wrekefull wrath were mou'de: The woorthy wights, on trampling Stéeds, theyr paſſing proweſſe prou'de. Theyr Horſemen pearſt, with Launce do lie, of Helmets quite bereau'de: Theyr Pikemen in like ſort doo lye, theyr wofull woundes receau'de. The Pikemen, loſing Burkonet, and Speare lykewiſe ybroke: With manly force of ſtubborne ſtrength, dooth ſtryke full many a ſtroke. His Arming ſwoorde, then foorth he drawes, him ſelfe for to defende: Wherewith he maymes his enimies fearce, that ſéeke his life to ende. The wounded men to Cabbin hyes, to ſtaunche theyr waſting blood: The maymed men, and dead men flote, aloft in crimſone flood. When thus a whyle the armies fought, the Princeſſe partie wun: By tracing ground, they got of them, bothe winde and ſhining Sun. Sir Phoebus blerde the Rebels eyes, his gliſtering beames ſo ſhinde: Their ſight obſcured was with ſmoake, that flewe with blaſte of winde. Thus winde and ſunne aſſyſt the King, and God would haue it ſo: The Rebelles Campe, no order kept, but ſcattered too and fro. Some héere, ſome there, for ſuccour fled, ſome backwardes run apace: The ventrous victors Prince his ſide, with ſpéede purſues the chace. Retyring nowe they are ſtrooke downe, the Trumpets gladly ſounde: Theyr backe retraite, with ioyfull tunes, dooth Eccho lyke rebound. Such euill happes prepared are, for them that doo aſſay: Againſt their regall Prince to ryſe, with ſwoorde in hand to ſlay. If any Captaine there wun Fame, then Charles did purchaſe prayſe: Who dyd excell each Souldier there, in all his warlyke wayes. He ventred more, his cares compeld, he deſperate was in déede: And Fortune furthred his attempts, and ſent him fréendly ſpéede. The victor King, when foes were foylde, aſſigned Chéeftaines than: To garde the Holdes that Rebels kept, before the broyle began. Each one was poynted to his place, and Charles as Fortune lent: Vnto the Towne, where Iulia liues, with Gariſon was ſent. Though frowarde Fortune at the firſt, dooth ſhewe her enuious guile: Yet at the laſt ſhe turnes her whéele, and then dooth ſmoothly ſmile. He nought ſurmiſde ſuch bliſfull lot, vnwares was him aſſygnde: Or that he ſhould his Iulia ſée, for whome he mournde in minde. But Fortune loe, vnlooked for, to Iulias ſight him brought: Whoſe carkaſe long agoe conſumde, amyd the Seas he thought. Thus Charles with corage tooke his courſe, and dooth his voyage bend: With thoſe his men vnto the Towne, which he ſhould now defend. As ſoone as to the Towne he came, he walkt the walles about: To ſpie if any breach were there, to enter in or out. And walking thus when as the Sun, had almoſt run his race: He dyd eſpie a troupe of Dames, that came with ſolemne pace. Which were the Lady Prioreſſe, with Nunnes that came behinde: Who walking were about the walles, to recreate theyr minde. He marched forwarde towardes them, and they to him lykewiſe: And Charles vpon theſe modeſt Dames, dooth fixe his gazing eyes. Bothe gan each other to ſalute, with ſuch a modeſt chéere: That what in wordes twixt them did want, in geſture dyd appéere. This holy route, by two in ranke, dyd orderly paſſe by: And as they went, Sir Charles on them, dooth caſt attentiue eye. Among the which Dame Iulia was, who had of him a ſight: And he againe ſurueyde her ſhape, and tooke therein delyght. Two ſortes of folke the eye will firſt, be ſure for to beholde: Eyther a freende thats well beloued, or elſe an enimie olde. Her feature better pleaſde his minde, as Nature wylde it ſoe: Then all the beautie of the reſt, that were within the rowe. And ſhe againe dyd fancie him, whome ſhe in minde dyd geſſe: The featured forme of Charles his face, in countenaunce to expreſſe. Her wayling wéedes and veſtall robes, which ſhe that tyme did weare: Diſguiſed her, that ſcarſe her face, could in his ſight appeare. His headpéece lykewiſe which he wore, with cewrates claſped one: His ſléeues of Mayle, with other things, made him to her vnknowne. But though apparell ſeemed ſtraunge, and made them to ſurmiſe: Yet they each other dyd ſuſpect, by onely view of eyes. The minde ſometimes wyll geſſe and iudge, that which the eye knowes not: As theyr two mindes, each other knew, the ſight theyr formes forgot. Thus bothe ſuſpended in ſuſpect, away they bothe doo goe: The one not knowing the others name, as chaunce appointed ſo. The doubtleſſe Fame of bothe theyr deaths, with ſtraungeneſſe of attyre: Made them to hang in ceaſeleſſe doubts▪ and ſlacke for to enquyre. By this the Starres in Firmament, lyke twinckling ſparckes aryſe: And night compels each one depart, to reſt their weary eyes. Charles went to bed, but tooke ſmall reſt, her ſhape renewde his thought: And made his muſing minde to maſke, where fancies fonde him brought. The morning nowe appéereth bright, Charles and the Preeſt with ſpéede: Doo ryſe, and to the Church to pray, to goe they are decreede. But Charles his minde was chéefly bent, his fancied face to ſée: And to beholde his Iulia, yet thought it was not ſhée. When into Church they entred were, they might beholde in ſight: A Table hang ouer the head, of euerie Nun aright. Wherein inſculped were their names, according to their place: Thus after Charles had ſayde his prayers, he lyfted vp his face. And gan to reade theſe written names, there preſent to their ſight: Vntyll they came vnto the name, that Charles dyd moſt delight. At laſt within a Table fayre, in Romaine letters fine: Iulia Brittania written was, there open to theyr eyne: This name reuiu'de his dulled ſprites, this comforted his hart: This brought his paſſed pleaſaunt ioyes, and ended preſent ſmart. Now he recordes within his minde, that Iulia is the Mayde: Which he at his arriuall viewde, whyle he theyr paſſage ſtayde. Yet faynting feare dooth make him dout, leaſt one of them there were: Among the Nunnes to him vnknowne, that dyd this name eke beare. Againe, he hopes that Fortune might, conuay her to that place: From gréedy iawes of fiſhfull floods, thus doubted he the caſe. That vertue is rare and ſeldome, his ſtay eke verie ſtraunge: Whoſe ſtate (tho it be good or yll) Dame Fortune cannot chaunge. He tooke his pen and ynke in hand, and wrote vnder the ſame: In his owne ſpéeche and Brittiſhe tongue, his right and proper name. So vnder Iulia Brittania there, he Charles Brittania writte: That ſhe might reade the ſame, when ſhe came there againe to ſit. He alſo wrote where he abode, and in what ſtréete or Inne: The chardge alſo that he dyd holde, he writ lykewiſe therein. Now his affaires conſtraineth him, for to depart away: For to prouide the Townes defence, as much as in him lay. They thence depart with gladſome mindes, in hope of future ioye: Theſe gladſome newes that he hath ſéene, driues out all darke annoye. Within a whyle the Prioreſſe, with all her Nunnes drewe nye: And into Churche they roundly came, when Charles was gone perdye. The Veſtall Virgins, two and two, towarde theyr ſeates reſort: And ſet them downe each in her ſeate, as was theyr vſuall ſort. Iulia, lykewiſe approching néere, by ſuddaine chaunce dyd ſée: In pendent Table ouer her place, more written then ſhould bée. When morning prayers were finiſhed, no tyme before ſhe found: She read theſe lines, the view wherof, dooth make her ioyes abound. Her pleaſures baniſhed all care, ſhe knewe that Charles was hée: Which ſhe by tracing neere the walles, before her face dyd ſée. The Prioreſſe when all is done, dooth homeward hye againe: The Sunne had compaſſed the South, and ſhewes his heate amaine. The dinner time was nowe at hand, to dinner ſtraight they went: Charles all this whyle dyd long to heare. howe he his writing ſpent. When as the Prioreſſe dyned had, then Iulia goes with ſpéede: Deſiring of her Miſtriſſe then, to graunt her leaue in néede. For ſhe a Brother had that was, but lately come to Towne: Who was a Chéeftayne of a bande, appoynted by the Crowne. For to defende that Cittie there, and that ſhe ſawe him not: Thoſe three yéeres ſpace, the Prioreſſe, her leaue dyd then alot. Aſſygning one to goe with her, a Veſtall Virgin eke: She takes her way with ſpéedy ſpace, with Charles foorthwith to ſpeake. They bothe vnto their Chamber came, and found the Préeſt and hée: Conferring cloſely twixt them ſelues, who ſhould that Iulia bée. There Iulia viewed her Charles a ſpace, with fréendly gréeting ſhowne: His Head péece then was layde aſide, which made him better knowne. His hart dyd giue him it was ſhée, whome he in minde dyd looue: Thus bothe as ſtraungers ſtoode a ſpace, and could no whit remooue. But when they dyd each other knowe, theyr teares ran downe lyke rayne: Theſe ſudden ioyes, that then they felt, theyr ſpeeche dyd quite reſtrayne. He claſpes her harde within his Armes, his teares lyke Fountaines flowe: And ſhe her Armes about his necke, dooth ſtrongly cloſe alſo. The one the other ſo embraſte, She clang as cloſe to him: As Hero to Leander dyd, when he to Seſt dyd ſwim. Vliſſes and Penelope, conceau'd no greater ioye: When after ſpoyle he haſted home, from ten yéeres ſiedge of Troye. At length theſe words to her he ſpake, O Iulia this thy ſight: Hath cauſde my paſſing pleaſures great, and put my cares to flight. And art thou her whome I ſuppoſde, by death to be deſtroyde? Haue theſe mine eyes once more of thée, theyr preſent ioyes enioyde? Come Death nowe when thou wilt to me, for I haue lyu'de to view: Her onely ſight, whome I alwayes, haue found my fréend moſt trew. Now doo I not deſire to lyue, but onely for thy ſake: That dydſt the peryls of the Seas, for me ſo vndertake. And art thou ſhe which fell report, dyd brute the tyde had torne? Art thou the wight that haſt for me, thoſe paſſed peryls borne? O Fortune now thou fauoureſt me, though long tyme thou didſt frowne: Thou haſt conducted vs bothe ſafe, to caſt our ſorrowes downe. Now may we knit that faithfull knot, which we before had ſworne: Now I accoumpt me happy thriſe, that once was thought forlorne. I neuer thought to view thy face, but that the Dolphin fearce: Should in the ſtéede of funerals, haue made her corpes thy hearce. But ſith once more I haue thy ſight, ere thou doo part me froe: Where I haue nought but Parents left, I wyll my lyfe forgoe. Now wyll we backe reuert with ſpéede, to view our fréends againe: Who for our loſſe haue long bewaylde, in bitter greefe and paine. When he made mencion of theyr fréends, her teares ſhe could not holde: And vnto Charles with wéeping words, this heauy tale ſhe tolde. ¶O my déere Charles, how haue the heauens thus rayſed vp our ioyes: That once were plunged in the pit, of deadly déepe annoyes? I neuer thought to view thy face, when Fame dyd blaze thy death: Or that we ſhould performe the vow, that we had ſworne by faith. The loſſe of thée did gréeue me more, then any tongue can tell: No fréende but thée I dyd accoumpt▪ as thou mayſt finde right well. My Parents thinke, theyr Daughter dead, but Fortune ſuffred not: And ſith thou lyu'ſte, I may accoumpt, right luckie was my lot. The daungers that I haue abode, all onely for thy looue: Not my report, but preſent ſtate, moſt perfectly can prooue. Yet doo I coumpt them all but lyght, ne dyd I meane whyle life: Sith thou waſt gone, whylſt I dyd liue, to be a wedded wife. But for thy ſake to ſpend my dayes, within that ſacred place: Where I might waſte my wearie tyme, for to lament my caſe. But ſith the fates haue vs preſeru'de, contrarie to our thought: I yéelde me nowe vnto thy wyll, to vſe thy minde in ought. I knowe thou wilt not ſwerue frō boundes, of Vertues ſacred lore: But wylt regarde my Maydens minde, as thou haſt done tofore. Vntyll we knit the nuptiall knot, which yeeldes vs laſting leaue: To ioyne in fruites of Mariage Rytes, tyll death doo vs bereaue. If it be ſo your minde reuert, contrarie to your vowe: Then graunt that in the ſtéede of wife, your ſeruaunt me t'allowe. ¶When ſhée theſe wordes had vttered, his chriſtall teares diſtylde: From out the fountaine of his eyes, which at that tyme were fylde. He ſayde, O Iulia leaue thoſe words, you doo me double wrong: To thinke that I ſhould now recant, and loouing you ſo long. Why ſhould you ſo ſubmit your ſelfe, to me that am vnméete: To matche with you in Mariage ſtate, you ſhewe your humble ſpréete. I had a hart more harde then flint, or any ſturdy ſteele: If I ſhould ſcorne your looue that dyd, for me ſuch ſorrowes féele. If you had bene of baſeſt blood, that euer could be found: Your Vertue would perſwade my minde, in Mariage to be bound. I thinke my ſelfe well recompeſt, for all my hurtfull harmes: That Fortune once hath giuen me leaue. to claſpe thée in myne armes. Wherfore reioyce, for ere long tyme, we wyll depart this land: To rew our Parents and our fréends, with in our natiue ſtrand. Who wyll be glad of our returne, and pardon our offence: That haue thus long in vnknown land, as exyles bene from thence. Now Phoebus ſtéedes doo lodge in Weſt, and night with darkſome ſhade: Beginnes to ouerſpreade the earth, when Iulia and the Mayde, Departed home, and Charles lykewiſe▪ to Coutch dooth now returne: Where as he reſts in gladſome glée, that earſt in cares dyd mourne. When Eous dame Phoebus ſtéede, diſcouered had the lyght: And Sol amyd the Hemiſphaere, Dame Nox had baniſht quight. Then Charles repayred to the King, deſiring a diſcharge: Of Captaines roome: the Prince dyd graunt, rewarding him at large. And franklie payde him for his paine, appointing him t'aſſigne: Whome he thought méete, as Captain ouer, his Garriſon to reygne. Then he to Iulia backe returnes, appointing out of hand: His Lieutenant that had the charge, for to conduct the band. He alſo got for Iulia leaue, of Prioreſle with ſpéede: To goe with him, who thought ſhe was, his Siſter borne in deede. Charles, of the Souldiers takes his leaue, and of his fréendes alſo: Who ſorie are, that he from them, in ſuch a ſort ſhould goe. And ſhe of Ladie Prioreſſe, dooth take her laſt adiew: Her parture was bewayled ſore, of all the Veſtall crew. Thus Charles and Iulia with the Préeſt, and Iulias Mayde went downe, Vnto the Rhode, where then dyd ryde, the Nauie of the Towne. There Charles dooth hyre a Ship foorthwith, him and the reſt to frayght: They enter in, they hoyſe vp Sayles, and take theyr paſſage ſtraight. The Ordinaunce are then diſchargde, the Trumpets ſound amayne: The Souldiers byds their Captaine then, farewell, though to their payne. The winde is calme, the tyde dooth ſerue, the Fiſhes finely play: A gentle gale of pleaſaunt blaſte, dooth driue them ſwift away. They ſtyll continewed on theyr courſe, good Fortune was theyr guide: Vntyll theyr Ship in Cambria ſoyle, at wiſhed Rhode dooth ryde. From thence with ſpéede, to Flint they hide, where they no ſooner came: But tydinges of theſe luckie newes, to Parents came by Fame. Sir Gaulfride with his wife repayrde, in haſte theyr Sonne to méete: And Owen with his Lady came, theyr Iulia for to gréete. When Charles and Iulia ſawe theyr Sires, and Mothers in lyke caſe: They fell downe flat vpon theyr knées, deſiring them of grace. And pardon for theyr great offence, which looue, not they had wrought: And that th'affection that they bare, this treſpaſſe paſt had brought. Theyr Parents pearſt with pittie then, and melting into teares: Forgaue them this ſo great offence, of theyr vnbridled yéeres. Each ſide agrées to Marrie them, or they away depart: That had by proofe a tryall true, of eythers faithfull hart. The wedding day appointed was, to Owens Court they goe: For to prouide the Nuptiall feaſt, great charges they beſtowe. The fixed tyme is now at hand, the gladſome Loouers ryſe: And put on them their wedding ray, preparde in ſumptuous wiſe. The Mother deckes her Daughter then, in Veſture ritche and fine: Charles wantes no coſtly garments gay, that may content the eyne. Her Treſſes trymde on ſhoulders hang, ybound with ſyluer lace: As cuſtome was, and is this day, in England in ſome place. Her curled Crine, were frizled fine, her fingers ſmall beſet: With Rings moſt ritch, & Diamonds braue, the beſt that they could get. Her forehead fine, with Byllamont, beſet with Pearles ſhe ware: Her ſéemely haire, lyke golden wyre, hung downe bothe freſh and fayre. Her Partlet with the ſléeues agreede, wrought all with ſiluer fine: The gliſtering ſpangs that hung thereby, lyke twinkling Stars dyd ſhine. Her Gowne was made of Veluet blacke, with ſiluer fringe about: Her Kyrtle on white Tynſell cut, which through the cuts ſhines out. Her Chayne fiue folde about her necke, with precious ſtones bedight: As Diamonds, Emralds, Saphires fine, which gliſtred fayre and bright. Her Tablet ritch, had alſo a Quadrangle Diamond braue: Beſmearde within with Ciuet fine, the beſt that man might haue. A Chayne alſo about her waſte, in ſtéede of Bridely belt: And thus bedect, ſhe quite forgets, the ſorrowes that ſhe felt. To Church they goe, and Charles betwéene, two Chinals on each ſide: Two auncient Knights, of ſpotleſſe fame, to Church doo leade the Bride. The true Looue knot that tyme was knit, and fyrmde betwéene them two: Which nought within the world can looſe, tyll death doo them vndoo. Gaulfride and Owen with theyr wiues, and all theyr noble trayne: With ſpéede returne from out the Church, and homewarde hye agayne. To dinner nowe, they all doo goe, where daynties doo abound: They want no ſolempne ſiluer tunes, that Muſickes Arte can ſound. The Sunne dyd ſéeme to leape for ioye, the Byrdes delyghted more: In denſed groues about the Court, then they were wont before. The feaſt being now ſolemnized, Dame Nox dooth Tellus clad: Which mantell made of pitchie clowdes, and with her darkſome ſhade: The Supper being ended then, they ſpend the tyme in play: With Maſkes, and other paſtimes braue, as fitteſt for that day. A Princely bed ordayned was, the Ladyes all a roe: Brought Iulia to her ſpowſefull Coutche, as cuſtome is alſo. Such Delycates prepared was, as for that tyme was fit: A Poſſet ſwéete, beſprent with Spice, for Iulia then they get. She drinkes then to the Maydens all, and byds them all adiew: And ſayth to them, thus long I haue, remaynd a Virgin trew. But nowe farewell Virginitie, the flowre of Vertues prayſe: God graunt you to be Virgins pure, vntyll your Mariage dayes: The Ladyes then from Chamber went, and Charles dooth come to bed: Where vſuall ſportes frequented were, tyll fancie waxed dead. And when the force of Venus fire, was quenched for a ſpace: Theſe Loouers then to loſe no time, each other doo embrace. To kiſſing then, they kindly fall, theyr mindes for to content: But howe ſhould I expreſſe theyr ioyes, that lacke experiment. Let it ſuffice what Nature wylde, in ſuch a kinde of caſe: They bothe fulfilde, and God hath wylde, for man to treade that trace. You Loouers that haue tryed lyke trickes, with them you looued beſt: May iudge by your forepaſſed ioyes, they tooke but lytle reſt. As for my part, I am but gréene, my yéeres vnripe and rawe: That neuer yet aſſayde the force, of Cupids wanton lawe. But let vs leaue theſe Loouers thus, a myd theyr ſwéete delight: That in the fruites of wedlocke bandes, doo waſte the wearie night. The feaſt continewed long, wherat men had no néede to faſt: But as each thing ſerues for a tyme, ſo ende all thinges at laſt. The feaſt being done, the couenaunts made, ſuch bandes that tyme were framde: As touching landes and Mariage goodes, that néedes not héere be namde. Let it ſuffiſe, they had enough, theyr ſtate for to maintaine: Which done, Sir Gaulfride with his wife, returned home againe. Sir Charles then with his Sire in lawe, dooth meane in Flint to dwell: And reſting thus, with Iulia ▪ he lykes his tarying well. He had not there ſoiorned long, not paſt two monthes or more: But that ſuch heauy newes dyd come, as made his hart full ſore. For Letters came, his aged Sire, was now departing lyfe: And verie ſicke, his charge lay then, to leaue his loouing wife. Whome he alas, had thought to ſée, when he came backe againe: But Fortune gaue him his farewell, which put them bothe to paine. Beholde her falſe and flattering face, that fléeres with fayned chéere: Whoſe whyrling whéele dooth turne eache howre, as now it may appéere. My Muſe alas dooth fayle me now, my ſenſes ſerue me not: My quaking quyll in quiuering hand, dooth make my pen to blot. My teares dooth ſo bedew my ſtyle, that I ne ſcarce can wright: My ſtaring haire, vpon my head, through feare dooth ſtand vpright. Wherefore you furies me aſſiſt, Alecto be mine ayde: Maegaera grym, and Tiſiphon, come helpe me nowe diſmayde. Theſe wofull Letters being read, then Charles dooth haſte anone: He poſting rydes, but ere he came, his ſorrowfull Sire was gone. Who royally poſſeſt his graue, with funerals moſt fit: But Fortune nowe diſpoſed was, her poyſoned ſpite to ſpit. Charles dooth in Angleſie abyde, in order to diſpoſe: His fathers goodes that lately dyed, whereof the gréefes aroſe. This Angleſie an Ilande is, enuironde on each ſide: With ſurging Seas, an arme wherof, from Wales dooth it deuide, Whereto they goe in paſſage Boates, that at the floods dooth ryſe: And Ferie men tranſport them ouer, as Paſſengers lykewiſe. Iulia, myſliking that her Spowſe, dooth vſe ſuch long delay: To Angleſie dooth meane to goe, to knowe his cauſe of ſtay. And alſo for to view the landes, that there ſhe dyd poſſeſſe: Her comming thether was the cauſe, of all her déepe diſtreſſe. In purple Wagon ſhe dooth ryde, with all her comely rowe: Vntyll ſhe came vnto the flood, that partes the Countries ſoe. Then to a wherrie Boate ſhe goes, but marke what dyd enſew: The waltring waues doo roughly ryſe, and boyſterous tempeſtes blew. The whyrling windes doo rayſe the waues, the floods in Boate doo flaſh: And ſturdy ſtormes of tempeſts ſtraunge, againſt theyr faces daſh. The Boate with ſturdy ſtormes dooth ſtand, in ſtaggring ſtate alas: And neyther backe nor forward could, from preſent perryll paſſe. The waters ſtyll encreaſing thus, the Boate was fylde to brim: And Iulia then amyd her woes, in waſhing waues dooth ſwim. At laſt ouer laden with the weight, of waters to the brinke: The ſtely Iulia, more the rueth, in ſurging deepe dooth ſinke. The wofull wights that ſtriue with waues, on God for mercie call: Theyr pitteous plaints, and ſhriking cries, dooth pearce the Ayre withall. And Iulia whyle her Fardingale, helde vp her carefull corſe: O Sauiour (cryes) on thy handmayde, with mercie take remorſe. Loſe me not whome thou haſt redeemde, with blood of thy deere hart: O Charles take now my laſt farewell, for now I muſt depart. By this her cloathes being throwly wet, dooth cauſe her carkaſe ſinke: Which makes my quaking hart to quayle, when on her ſtate I thinke▪ The churliſh Channell drownd her corpes, whoſe Vertue aye dyd ſhine: The loſſe of her lamentfull was, that had the Seas for ſhrine. Yea whome the floods on mayneſt Seas, dyd ſuffer for to ſcape: A broken braunche, or arme thereof, deuowres her ſeemely ſhape. The ruethfull rumor of this chaunce, was ſcattred héere and there: (When harmes begin, they fall by heapes) and came to Charles his eare. Alas this chaunce might well be ſparde, for Charles already had: A heauy hap, the death of Sire, which made his hart full ſad. When as he heard this ripe report, he loſt his ſenſes quight: In madding moode, now héere, now there, he runnes with troubled ſpright. If that I had ten thouſand pennes, I could not write his paine: Which for the loſſe of his déere looue, he dyd that tyme ſuſtaine. Whoſe churliſh chaunce ſo choſe by fate, dooth waſhe my chéekes with teares: That ſuch a vertuous worthy wight, ſhould thus cut off his yeares. But to be bréefe, he foorthwith dooth, a poyſoned drinke prouide: Of Hemlocke, Henbaine, and lyke hearbs, none knewe, but one beſide. Then two dayes thence, with merry chéere, he calles for Horſe in haſte: And bade his fréendes and men to come, to ſearche where ſhe was caſt. With blowen Bealts, with Boats & Hooks, with Drags and Ropes they goe: To fiſhe for her, whoſe lothed loſſe, dyd bréede this waſtleſſe woe. But Charles vnto a Barge aſcendes, and byds the Boates man tell: Where as his Iulias corpes dyd ſinke, when ſurging waues dyd ſwell. The Boate man ſayd, Sir Charles euē héere, your Iulias body ſunke: With that he drewe him foorth a glaſſe, and vp this poyſon drunke. All they had thought howe that it was, a drinke to ſwage his thurſt: They nought ſuppoſde the force thereof, would make his bowels burſt. With that he ſuddenly dooth leape, into the waters déepe: That men might knowe his conſtant hart, from daunger could not créepe. And there he ſinkes, no helpe preuayles, the fates decréede his tyme: No dread he had, thus fancie fonde, procurde his ſinfull cryme. The cauſe wherefore he drunke this drinke, was leaſt that nature ſhould, Prouoke him for to ſaue him ſelfe, by ſwimming as he could. Or if the ſwéetneſſe of his lyfe, ſhould make him faynt through feare: And ſo he ſhould prolong his dayes, thoſe bytter brunts to beare. The Storie ſayth, that they were found, embracing bothe togeather: And nothing ſtraunge, who once were ſau'd, in ſpight of winde and weather. And no great marueyle can it be, ſith they in life liu'de ſo: As neyther Seas nor landes preuaylde, to part each other fro. This ſhewes as well the force of looue, as dyd the enuious ſtate. Of Etocles, and Polynices, expreſſe the force of hate. They bothe were buried in one Tumbe, and had one ſolemne ſhrine: Theyr Funerals dyd force the teares, of many wéeping eyne. And being cloſde within the vaulte, bothe in one carefull caue: This Epitathe which long remaynd, was grauen on theyr graue. In auncient Brittiſhe ryme it was, with Letters all of golde: That euery one that paſſed by, might theyr eſtate beholde. Vpon our Tumbe poure foorth your plaints, you fréendes that paſſe this way: And on our Graue, beholde the ſtate, of our vnſtedfaſt ſtay. TWo faithfull harts of noble blood, ſometimes we did expreſſe: Though deſtenies haue thus decreede, our endes without redreſſe. And though amyd our greeneſt yeeres, where lyfe hath hyeſt power: The heau • nly powers decreede by death, our corpes for to deuowre. And that our ſtedfaſt looue alas, hath 〈◊〉 our owne decay: Yet that our ſoules in heav •• 〈…〉 O Paſſengers doo 〈…〉 You Loouers that doo 〈…〉 ere you goe by vou •• ſaue: With lyfted handes and moyſted teares, to wet our freendly graue. We haue been Loouers as you be, you ſhall be as we are: We now haue paſt the panges of looue, you yet muſt ſuffer care. If you doo looue, we did the lyke, and lyuing looued aye: And now vnder this ſtone we lye, cloſde vp in ſlymie claye. Our pompe is paſt, our pride is gone, ſo is our vaine delight: We are returnd to that we were. and ſo muſt euery wight. Our carefull mindes that could not reſt, are now extinct by duſt: And as we two are gone before, ſo follow needes ye • muſt. Remember therefore as you looue, heereafter you ſhall lyue: Take heede leaſt to affection fonde, your minde you wholy giue. 〈…〉 in beauties beames, 〈…〉 and clay: And knowe that fleſh at laſt ſhall vade, and beauties flowre decay. Let Vertue be your guide in all, ſo ſhall you looue aright: And fixe no fancie on the face, wherein is vaine delight. THis long continewed on theyr graue, tyll tyme dyd it deface: And ſo lykewiſe dyd tract of tyme, theyr carefull graue diſgrace. I would all Loouers ſo to looue, as Iulia and her Pheare: Yet would I wiſhe them not to be, ſo deſperate as they were. That Looue may haue that Looue requires, (excep't be ſinne) God ſende: And let all Loouers pray, that Looue may haue a better ende. ¶Thus endeth the Tragicall hiſtorie of Charles and Iulia. FINIS.