CHAP. I.

ALbertus having of late buried the soul of his life Lycimmena, his most indulgent Quéen, fell into extreme melancholly, which as it is commonly the Parent of all diseases, so it brought him into a most tedious and languish­ing sickness, which caused him to make mone both day and night, witness the bitter groanes, and passionate expressions for the ldss of his de­parted Consort: at last, being importuned by several of his Nobles, and hourely intreated by his thrée Sonnes, Ph [...]onzo, Cruentius, and Innocentine, he consented to send for the chief­est Doctors in those parts to consult about the state and welfare of his body; which Doctors being arrived, were presently con­ducted to the Kings Chamber, at whose [...] the King broke out into these sad expressions:

YE are come to looke upon a declining King, ye may endeavour to use your skils, but I am confident your labours will be lost. Alas, my disease is too inward to be found out, and if ye cure [Page]me, it must be more by miracle then skill: If ye can cure an almost broken heart, or repaire my halfe decayed lungs, or restore my near wasted breath, then draw near, but Alas my Lysimena and there his sighs denying him liberty of speech, he made signes to be no more troubled, and turning from the company, and almost from his own senses, he groaned himself into a deep melancholly.

The Doctors as yet being not throughly acquainted with his disease, verily supposed him departing, but it probed otherwise; for his Sonnes and the rest of the Nobilitie informing the Doctors of his griefe, desired them to use their best endeavours for his recoverie, which accordingly they did, but finding little hopes of life, in respect that the distemper of his mind had so much impaired the temper of his body, they only prescribed him cordials, which indéed something revived and exhilarated his spirits, but could not give the least hopes of life, in respect that nature was much extenuated and weakned by his extraordinary melancholly.

The King whether less insensible of his disease, or somewhat more enlivened by the prescriptions of the Doctors, destres two of the ablest of them to be brought unto him, of whom he de­manded their frée and absolute opinions; The Doctors after a short pause, who having more respect to conscience then gaine, told him that they might prolong, but not cure, and being about to procéed into further discourse, there suddenly came in some of [...] Nobilitie and whispered with one of the Doctors, which the King perceiving, demanded the cause, to which his Nobilitie replyed, that there were newly arrived several Magicians, who hearing of his Majesties distemper, came out of affectionate duty to imploy their skils for his recoverie; the King hearing this, dismist the Doctors, and admitted the Magitians, who being entred, and after the performance of their several duties, ap­plyed themselves in this manner:

Most Renowned Sir, We the most humblest of all your ser­vants, being by report informed of your Majesties heavy and grievous disease, have by our industry found out a meanes which (though it may seem impossible to your Majestie) will without [Page]question restore you to your former health, which meanes (craving the favour of your Majesties parience) we shall forth­with [...]cover.

Know then most excellent Prince, that under the juris­diction of Agrippina, that most famous and invincible Quéen of Ivy-land, there is a golden Eagle, in whom there is a secret and infallible remedy for your disease; therefore if any of those heroicke spirits which are belonging to your Majestie, that will endeavour to procure this Eagle, your Majesties life will que­stionless be preserved, we shall not therefore trouble your Maje­sties eares; with any further relation, but leave your Majestie to the prosecution of what we have relateds, only we will be bold to desire your Majestie not to be doubtful, for be than your Majestie shall least respect or expect, shall performe this dange­rous and almost impossible designe, so we leave your Majesty to your most serious considerations.

CHAP. II.

THe Magitians being departed, the King immediately gave command that his thrée Sonnes should come unto him, and they as diligent to obey, as he was willing to command, forth­with presented themselves before him; The King after some discourse, told them that now his dayes were near finished, and nature began so much to decline in him, that he was past the skill of Doctors; therefore let me advise you as a dying Fa­ther, that as ye were born brothers in Nature, so to continue in affection. Sir replyed the eldest, if it please the Gods to dispose of you to death [...] labour for that portion of con­tent [Page]which may be proportionable to our sorrows; for the de­crees of Fate are not to be resisted, and our reason tells us, that what we cannot remedy we must patiently endure, but for my part (I dere say as much for my brothers) I would wil­lingly hazard my life for the prolongation of yours. Sir, I hope that you will please to apprehend that the possessions which are like to fall to us after your death, do not any way in­cite us either to hope, or wish for your death; with that, the two other Brothers not able to containe any longer, desired their Father to imploy them in any thing whereby they might exprese their obedience to him, to which the King (joyful to sée their passionate obedience) replyed, that there was but one way to save his life, which was to do according to the directi­ons of the Magitians, who informed him, that if he could by any means recover the Golden-Eagle from the Quéen of Ivy­land, that then he should be restored to his former health; but sayes he, I find it a thing impossible, therefore I shall not trouble my self with the thoughts of obtaining it, for the Quéen is of that power and strength, that if I should perswade any to attempt it, I should be guilty of their deaths, and so depart this world with a burthened conscience, but my Sonnes, I am very well content to leave those slaveries which are atten­dants to a Crowne, I can only pray for you, and that's my uttermost.

Before the King had made an end of his intended discourse, [...] Sonnes interrupted him with fighes, that floated in teares, and as well as their sorrows would permit, they in most hum­ble manner des [...]re [...] the King to grant them a bonne before his departure, to which the King pleasingly replyed, enjoy your desires, provided ye ask what is necessary for me to give, speak, what is your boon? to which they replyed:

Renowned Sir, It was not long since you were pleased to bless our eares with the discourse of the Magitians, who have assured both you and us, that if the Golden Eagle can be recover­ed, your health shall be renewed; Then know Sir, that as our bodies are derivatives from you, so they are by all Laws what­soever [Page]to be at your disposing, and here we present our selbes before you, and protest with all our souls to hazard, nay lose our lives, but we will obtaine the Eagle; for you know Sir, that resolution backt with obedient affection, knows no imposs ivi­lities; Sir we shall not arise from our knees till you have granted our request, and at your Royal consent we will forth­with flye into action.

The King seeing them so resolved, thought it superfluous to endeavour to discourse them out of their resolutions, but told them, that since their obedience made them so ready to undertake so great a hazard, his affections should promp him, at their re­turn, to divide all his treasure (which at that time was very great) amongst them; in the mean time he advised them to pro­vide themselves with what money they would, and all other accoutrements necessary for their adventure, which they accor­dingly did.

CHAP. III.

THe three Brothers having prepared themselves for their journey, came in humble manner to take leave of [...] King, who they found, as formerly very much troubled with melancholly, but the eldest addressing himself unto him, began in this manner:

The King looking upon them with a countenance that imported [Page]unexpressable grief for their departure, raised himself from his pillow, and with a stretched out arme gave them his blessing, withal advising them as they were Brothers in nature, so to continue Brothers in affaction, and to have a care that naither Eaby nor Ambition, or ambitious Enby should raise a factious difference amongst them, but as departed Brothers, and so con­sequently friends, so they should adventure and return in the like amitie they departed, and so the greatest blessing a dying Father can bestew upon his departing children accompanie you; but before you go, let me as a Father advise you of two things, the one is the displeasure of the Gods by the neglect of your duty to them, the others is, the danger of evil companie which may seduce you to many inconveniencies, and so farwel; what I want in words I shall supply in thoughts.

Thus these three Brothers having received the summe of their destres, departed from the presence of their Father, and so taking leave of their friends at Court, departed: At last, having jour­neyed three dayes, they came by the mistake of their way into a great wood, where being in a wilderness of doubt, they con­sulted what was best to do; Philonz [...] the elder Brother, begin­ning already to find the incumbrances of travel, exprest himself to the others, as follows:

WEE sée dear Brothers, the many troubles the want of consideration brings upon us, we have (as I have [...] it in my more serious thoughts) undertaken a most dangerous, troublesome, and almost inpossible design; to prevent this, [...] shall we advise? If we should return home, we should turn our noble undertakings to ignominie and shame, and it we proceed, without question we shall lose our lives, and what will the world say but this, they have the effect of their rasbuess; for the more dangerous a designe is, the more it ought to be discust, but that like Phaeton, mount at imposs vili­ties, shall at last fall like Phaeton, with shame and dishonour; therefore Brothers let me hear your advice, to which Cruentius the second Brother replyed:

[Page] 'Tis true, rash beginnings have most commonly fatal con­clusions: For my part, as yet I never weighed the business, nor the danger, but altogether depended upon your judgment as an Oracle, not dreaming but you had known she difficul­tie of the bustness: But stay now, I better consider the mat­ter, methinks it should not be so difficult, for sure we three can conquer one Eagle; for Brother you shall catch her, and I will warant you my Brother and I will hold her, but where shall we find her? fle Brother, quoth Philonzo, I sie you as much erre in the matter as I did in the manner of the bustness. This Eagle is a bird kept for her Soveraigntie in a great City walled round with brass, pallazado'd with yron, guarded with Lyons and Dragons, and commanded by Gyants, and we must before we come to this City Encounter with several Knights which attend purposely for such attempters as we must be: Many have attempted, but never any as yet return­ed to tell the manner of their attempts; therefore Brother the business is of more intricacy then you imagine. O mon­strous cryed Cruentius, I am more then half dead already with the relation, talke no more of it. What, Dragons, and Bears, Lyons, and Gyants, Brazen wals, and yron Pallizadoes? Oh how I am thundred to death, attempt it who will, for my part I will starve here rather then be earen with Bears and Lyons, and Dragons, and—oh borrible Gyants, not I, Brother Innocentine what sayest thou to these terrible things? what, art not afraid? well, I have fear enough for you both, but good Brother speak, to which Innocentine the younger un­dauntedly replyed:

AS I am youngest in years, so I am last in spéech, and I could wish I might be the least; but in respect I am to make answer to both your demands, I must a little exercise your patience. 'Tis true, the danger is great, therefore the more noble, but had you my Brrethren, according to my Fathers advice, importuned the gods before you had undertaken this great designe, questionless the one had not been so filled with [Page]doubts, nor the other with feares, nor I with shame for you both; you seem to be as much displeased at my words as I am at your actions; shall we begin to tyre before we begin to doe? for shame let not the world have this advantage of our reputa­tions; if we returne home, we must expect to undergoe a dis­grace worse then death; if we dye, we dye in high attempts, who knows but that the gods may shew extraordinary favours, and smile at our designes, being we doe it for our dear Fa­thers life: If the worst come to the worst, we can but dye, and we had better doe so then live as if we lived not, but I perceive my discourse offends, I will be therefore silent.

CHAP. IV.

CRuentius hearing his Brothers discourse, which was con­trary to his expectations, told him that he was a very rash boy, and understood not what he spoke; for sayes he, shall we cast away our lives because the world should say we died nobly: Brother, sayes he to Philonzo, are we bound to be fools be­cause he's mad, no, let's leave him to his thoughts of ho­nour, whilst you and I consult what's best to doe; so walking a distance from him, they sate down, and began thus to ex­press themselves:

Brother Philonzo, I have in this short time both considered the shame and the danger, let us endeavour to haste to Mesemp­tronia, a City which I am sure cannot be farre from this place, where we may refresh our selves, and have further discourse; but what shall we doe, replied Cruentius, with you foolish boy, you perceive how refractory and inconsiderate he is, and makes sight of that danger which we know to be very great: If we leave him, questionless he will return home and incense the [Page]King against us, what we shall doe in this I know not, but leave it to your discretion, let's force him with us, quoth Phi­lonzo, and make him doe according to our wills, if not, we will threaten to kill him; no quoth Cruentius, that cannot be, for then he will prie into all our actions, and make a discovery at out returnes; but Brother, quoth he, our bussiness re­quires haste, let us therefore take away his treasure, and bind him, and so leave him in the Wood, for it is better one perish then two, and if the worst come to the worst, that he should be unloosed and returne home: We know at our returne how to perswade that what he has related is only lies to disgrace us, and by that means to insinuate the more into favour himself, and injure us. I like this advice well, quoth Philonzo, let us quickly put in execution, for the night hastens; with that re­turning to Innocentine, they asked him what he intended to doe, who replied, what they did not, and so you shall quoth Cruentius, and so both running together laid hold on him, and without hearing him speak, bound him, and took away his treasure, turning his horse loose to range in the Woods, they departed. Thus lay poore Innocentine miserably bound, inso­much that the swelling of hie hands and féet made him most sad­ly lament his grievous tortures; but Philonzo and Cruentius having rambled up and down the Wood for the space of two hours, could by no means finde the way out, insomuch that they despaired of travelling any further way out that night but having not rode a flight-shot further, it happened that a dog having lost his Master, came fawning on Cruentius, who pre­sently laid hold of him, and tying him in a string, followed the dog, who forthwith brought them out of the Wood, and pre­sently after to a Shéepherds house, where the dog found spéedy entertainment, but Philonzo and Cruentius none, where we shall for a time leave them, and return to Innocentine, who they left bound in the Wood.

CHAP. V.

INnocentine being fast bound by his unnatural Brothers, lay till the approach of the evening in a most lamentable condi­dition, till at last a Hermit comming from his Cell, to take the benefit of the coole of the evening, heard the sad groanes of poore Innocentine, and being moved with pity, he addressed himself to the place (I may well say) of groans, where being come, his eye saw what his heart pitied, his heart pitied what his hand relieved, for he forthwith conducted him to his Cell, and made such preparations for him as his necessity required, so that the next morning he was in a condition to travel; but the Hermit viewing his guest, read in his countenance the characters of a noble and ingenuous disposition, observing by his deportment, that he was not a man of an ordinary educa­tion, besides being led by his own inclinations, he accosts his stranger in this manner:

Innocentine all this while amazed at the courteste of the Hermit, knew not presently what to answer, but as well as his late distemper attended with a multitude of thoughts would permit, he thus replied:

[Page] Most charitable Father, I could grieve that I was forry for my last misfortune, in respect that the happiness of your acquaintance is derived from it, I will not trouble your pa­tience with the discourse of my misfortune, only in short, I am going upon a designe to save the life of a renowned King, but this misfortune hath put me out of a capacitie to follow my in­tentions; come sayes the Hermit I know your disease, I'le be your Physition, take this cordlal (giving him a bag of Gold and Iewels) and returne no complemental answer, for I am bound to doe it, and if you want a Stéeed, I have one for you which this very day stragled hither, pray take him and use him as your owne; but for this sword, which I intend for your use, pray returne it if you live, if not conceale the vertue, for it will preserve you against all enchantments, which are now very common to my wofull experience; neither néed you fear who you encounter with it, for you shall not want success. Innocentine, not a little rejoiced at what the Hermit had told him, desired liberty to depart, in order to which the Hermit conducted him to his horse, but it fell out that the horse was his owne, which he thought his Brothers had carried away with them; the Hermit observing him looke so strictly upon the horse, told him that he could not promise him the like service from the horse as he did from the sword; no Sir, quoth Innocentine. I beléeve I am better acquainted with the horse than you, for yesterday he was mine, till taken from me by misfortune; but however I cannot but express my hearty thanks [...] you, and [...] my returne you shall know more of me, in the mean time, let peace abide with you, let me only beg your [...]ections towards Green Iveland, for I am altogether a stranger in these parts; your ready way, quoth the Hermit, is to goe to Mesemptronis, a City about thrée leagues from hence, the way is very direct through several Villages, where you may at your pleasure en­quire, but there is a Forrest which lies betwéen a little Town called Corumbus and Mesemptronia, where you must have a care­ful eye, lest you be set upon before you can provide for resistance, this is all that I can advise you, and so farewel.

[Page] Thus they departed, and after the expence of some hours, Innocentine came to the Forrest which the Hermit told him of, where he was no sooner entred, but he was welcomed with many loud and lamentable schréekes, which strucke him into admi­ration; but being of an undaunted spirit, and remembring the sad estate he himself was in the day before resolved to find out the place where he heard this lamentable noise; and being more directed by the eare then the eye, he at length effected his desires, for immediately in a valley he espied two villaines about to ravish a Lady of an incomparable beauty, and being passionately exasperated, he flew upon them like lightning, but giving them leave to mount themselves, they instead of fight, presently run away, perceiving it was their Brother: Innocentine perceiving their flight, clapt spurres and followed them, but the Lady perceiving it, was fearful that two to one might be very disadvantagious, cryed out with what strength she had, help, help, which Innocentine hearing, fearing some other accident had befallen the Lady, spéedily returned, but when he came he found no such matter, but the Lady being heartily glad of his returne, applied her self to him in this man­ner:

Most noble and renowned Knight, my late fright hath so disordered my thoughts, that for the present I cannot returne you those thanks which are due to your merits; but if you please to adde one favour more to the rest, which is to con­duct me to my [...] habitation (from which place those villaines you saw, having surprised me in a solitarie walk, dragg'd me) you will very much increase my happiness; to which request Innocentine condescended, and in a short time came to the place where he found a welcome entertainment: so after many Cere­monies past betwéen them, the Lady requested to know what his name and birth was, to which Innocentine replied; so so much confidence have I of your worth, that I will not kéep the least of my thoughts from you; so composting himself, he told her his name, birth and [...], and likewise told her how his Brothers had dealt with him, which he was confident [Page]was those which would have ravished her, had not he by pro­vidence preserved; the Lady hearing his relation, was much astonished, but at last recalling her self from her admiration, proceeded as followes:

Most magnanimous and ingenious Knight, I cannot but acknowledge my life and honour to be protected by your ver­tue, I shall therefore in part of a requital communicate some­thing to you for your advantage, which in short is this:

Not farr from this place there is an enchanted Castle kept by two Ladies, at which Castle (if you please to goe) you shall find civil entertainment from the Ladies, one of them will much press you to marriage, but by no means consent, but promise at your returne to give satisfaction to her request, tell them likewise that you have a short journey to take, but the horse dying in the journey you are now quite destitute, then they will presently carrie you into a spacious Stable, where they will shew you many Stéeds, and bid you take your choice, but refuse them all, but one, which séems to be the meanest there, and they will be very unwilling to lend you him; You shall know him by this signe, as soone as you come into the Stable you shall find him laid, and all the rest standing. I will not now any longer detaine you, leave your horse with me till your returne, and you shall accomplish your bustness, thus Innocentine and the Lady parted, but we will now leave him, and returne to the other Brothers, which are by this time come to Mesemptronia.

CHAP. VI.

Philonzo and Cruentius being come to the Shepheards house, immediately alighted and knockt at the door, but the old Shepheard and his wife being newly gone to bed, were very unwilling to rise, at last the Shepheard hearing them grow more violent in their knockes, arose, and looked out of (I cannot say the window) but out of a hole, or crannie, and asked who was there; to which Philonzo replied, a couple of Passengers which had lost their way in a Wood, and by a dog which they followed, were brought thither. The Shepheards wife which but a little before was awaked out of her sléep with sighing for the loss of her dog, starts out of her bed and cries, oh her dear Cut, and so runs down and lets in her dog, and after many expressions of insufferable joy, having entertained her dog with many a swéet kisse, she went to bed and slept very heartily, whilst Philonzo and Cruentius begg'd very earnestly for entertainment to protect them from a storme which they [...] was hastning upon them, but all their intreaties were in vaine; for this Shepheard told them, that he and his [...] were abused not long since by a couple that desired to be entertained, as they did, and therefore he would not admit them by any means: At last, when they saw their intreaties were in vaine, they departed, trusting themselves to the protection of an Oke, where they had not long reposed, but a great tempest of thunder and lightning desiurbed them of their rest, so that they forsooke the place, as deeming it dangerous to lie there in such tempestuous weather; so wandring up and down all night, without any rest, in the morning they pre­pared [Page]for their journey, and being at last refreshed with the heate of the Sunne, they spurred heerfully along till they came within view of a (not statelie) but well scituated house, not far from which they espied a beautiful Lady walking so solitarie, that she hardly tooke notice of her own thoughts: Philonzo riding towards her, and surprising her on a sudden, put her in­to such an amasement, that for the present she neither knew what to do, or say; but Philonzo well skill'd in the rudi­ments of malitious impudence, begins to accost her in this manner:

Madam, quoth he, I very much commend your choice, you have chosen a pleasant morning, and a sweet air for your pri­vate meditations; Sir, replied the Lady, the walke and air would be more pleasant if you were further from it, I wonder a Knight, as you séem to be should be so unadvised, or rather uncivil, to intrude without notice, or acquaintance; Sir, if you are noble, shew it by your forbearance, to which replied Philonzo:

Madam, had you béen less beautiful, I had béen less ambi­tious, but Madam your beautie is the Author of my bold in­truston; but I hope you have goodness to pardon, as well as I have infirmities to offend; Sir, quoth the Lady, the vanitie of Courtship hath taught me to dislike a Courtier, I will there­fore leave my walke to your enjoyment. Nay, quoth Phi­lonzo, I cannot so suddenly dismiss you, for your beautie has made a conquest of my heart, so either return what your be [...]tie has robb'd me of, or I must be inforced [...] it. Sir, quoth the Lady, I neither know your intent, nor meaning, but I expect you to be civil, therefore pray wr [...]ng not my expectati­ons: At which words Philonzo beckning to his Brother Cru­entine, that stood within sight, presently with much rigour and incivilitie layd hold on her, and dragg'd her into a Forrest which was within half a mile, being assisted by his Brother Cruentine; I need not tell the Reader, of the many tears, the grievous complaints, the sundrie prayers this poor distres­ed Lady made to these unhumane Villaines, but all to no purpose: For had not an unexpected Knight passed by, who [Page]hearing the skreeks of one in distress, boldly approached to the place, where he found these Villaines endeavouring to rob her of her chastitie who they spying perceived him to be their Brother which they left bound in the Wood, ran away, and at last ar­rived at Mesemptronia, where being come, they presently went to their Inne, and so to rest, not the least troubled at their Barbarous crueltie; the next morning approaching, they arose, and commanded a plentiful dinner to be provided, and that such companie as the City afforded should be invited to keep them companie, being strangers, at that time, to which their host preferring his own gain, condescended, and forthwith sent for a crew of the most notoriousest cheats the Towne could afford, who very plausibly treated the new come guests, telling them of many Courtisans that the City abound­ed withal, which were presently sent for, and a great banquet provided, to the admiration of the diligently joyful host; but after some dayes of their abode, they began to féel a consum­ption in their pockets, which caused them to consult of their departure.

CHAP. VII.

AFter Innocentine perceiv'd which Steed it was which the Lady advised him to request, he was very importunate with the Ladies to let him have that horse which was laid, to which they replyed, alas, that was the worst in the stable, de­siring him to make some other choice; but he replyed, that the other were too good and too lusty for him, in respect that he was a very bad horseman. The Ladies séeing that he would not be [Page]denyed, endeavoured to inchaunt him, but their inchantments would not take effect, because the Hermit [...] sword was his preservative. Thus séeing all their labour in vain, they made him swear that he would return again, and he should have his destres; but to be short, having swore according to their de­sires, the horse was brought forth, he leaping upon him, was on a sudden carried to Green Ivy-land, and in his journey over­threw many Knights which waited there on purpose to encoun­ter any that should approach; but he with his good sword and Steed made slight of them, then he approached to the brazen wals where he was welcomed with the roaring of Lyons and Dragons, but as he brandished his sword they fell into a dead sleep, then Innocentine passed freely, not long after he came to a Fort that was guarded by Gyants, who when they per­ceived his approach, presently came running at him with great violence, but he no sooner brandished his sword but they fell all a sleep; at length, having many more difficulties, which are now too tedious to relate, he came to the place where the Quéen and the Eagle was; The Queen and her attendance beholding a stranger so near her presence, began to rebuke his insolencie, but he brandishing his sword, the Queen and all her attendants sell asleep, insomuch that they could not be waked, in the mean time Innocentine alighted and took the Eagle, with no small joy, and was departing, but his horse would not by any meanes stir a foot from the place, which made Innocent [...] in a doubt what to do; but beholding the incomparable beautie of the Queen, he drew near and [...] her as she slept, after which Innocentine cnt off a lock of the Quéens haire and left a locke of his in her bosome, and then he took a ring of rich value from her finger, and put one of his in the same place; then finding her picture about her neck, he took that off and supplyed the place with his own. Having done these things, he writes these lines, and pinnes them upon the sleve of her garment: [Page]

Having thus done, he mounts his horse with the Eagle in his hand, and was immediately brought to the Forrest where be preserved the Lady from ravishment: his stéed making astand at a great River, would not go any further, notwithstanding Innocentine used all the skill he could with switch and spurre, but at last his horse spake, and bid him forbear and a light; Innocentine not a little amazed, alighted, then the horse be­gan to tell him that he must chop off his head, and throw it into that River, withal bidding him not to be afraid, for he intended him no harm, but sayes he, when you have thrown me in, stand with your sword by the River, and in what shape soever you sée me appear knock me down again, till I arise in the shape of a man; Innocentine being something a­mazed at this sudden and strange alteration, knew not for the present what to do, but after a little pause he resolved to do it, which being done, he threw the head into the River, and it rose up the first time like a Lion, but he presently knockt it down, then it rose up in several other shapes but he still kept it down but at last it arose like a tall proper man, and then he help it out which being done, the man bid him fear nothing but follow his advise, and give eare to him whilst he informed him of something which might conduce to his benefit: I was, saith he, a Knight in­channted in that Castle that you had me out of, and all those fair Stéeds you saw were inchaunted Knights, I am likewise the husband of that Lady you preserved from the violence of your Brothers; which Brothers will meet with you before yuu come home, with full resolution to kill you, but fear not, hide the King [Page]and Picture which you had of the Quéen, and desire them not to kill you, but tell them you will never discover them to your Father, then they shall take away your Eagle and let you go; thus as you have preserved me and mine, I will preserve you and yours.

CHAP. VIII.

PHilonzo and Cruentius having spent most of their money, at last agréed with some in the City to get him an Eagle, which they pretented thy could do, which was not long effecting, for they got a very great Fowle, the nearest they could like a Eagle, and gilded his feathers, and brought it to them, which they with much joy accepted, giving a large summe for it, and forthwith departed the City; but as they travelled, it was their fortune to meet their Brother Innocentine carrying an Eagle in a filver cage, at the sight whereof their Eagle trembled and dyed, but without the least salute to their Bro­ther they run upon him and would have killed him, but he according to his advise had hid the King and [...]cture in a pri­vate place about him, which they discovered not, but took away Cage and Eagle, with full [...]ent to kill him; but he with many passionate expressions diverted their intentions, promising them to become their Servant, and never be­tray them to his Father; they hearing these promises, saved his life, and so he became their Servant, and they journeyed together, at last comming home and carrying their Eagle in tri­triumph, they were joyfully entertained, the King embracing the two eldest, and commanding the youngest to be imme­diately put to death for those lies which his Brothers had [Page]related of him; but Innocentine heartilie begg'd of his Father that he might not be put to death, and so did his Brothers séemingly, but that he might be made inseriour to the worst servant in the house, to which the King, though unwilling, agréed; this was poore Innocentine, that deserved a just reward, cast out of his Fathers favour for ever; but it happened that not long after the Quéen of Green Ivyland, hearing where her Eagle was, came with a great Traine to Arigon, and present­ed her self to the King, who was absolutelie cured by the vertue of the Eagle, the Queen receiving that vountiful entertainment which her estate required, asked the King how many sonnes be had, to which the King replied, two, she desired she might be allowed so great a savour as to sée them, immediatelie they appeared; so she called Philonzo, and asked him if he was the man that made so gallant an attempt for her Eagle, he replied, it was his poore endeavour that obtained it, pray, sayes she, let me sée some assurance, did you leave me nothing, nor take nothing from me, no replied Philonzo, then quoth the Quéen you are not the man; after him was presented Cruentius, who the Quéen in the like manner gréeted, but he replied as Phi­lonzo did, that he took nothing from her, nor left any thing with her. The Quéen concealing her anger, told the King that these misteries past her imaginations, destred the King ingenioustie to tell her if he had no more sonnes, Kenowned Quéen I must confess I had another sonne, which now I own not, I think he may be living amongst the mean servants of my house, but for a sonne, I own him not, to which the Quéen replied, she must needs see him; alas replied the King; I thinke him not worthy of my presence, much more of so re­nowned a Quéen as your self: but to satisste your requests, he shall be called, in the mean time the King departed, whilst In­nocentine approached the Quéens presence, to whom the Quéen discourst as followes:

Are you the youngest Son of this Koyal King, or no? he replied with a blushing countenance, no; what, are you his servant? he replied no: Friend, you speake very misteriously, [Page]discover they self; then know incomparable Lady, that my Father being incens'd against me condemned me to dye, but by the request of my Brothers I was preserved, and became a servant to the worst of my Fathers servants, contenting my self with these poor babilliments, which indéed were they as rich as could be imagined, were too mean to be presented before so worthy a person, as Madam, you are, and for my self. I could tremble into ashes at the sight of so excellent a creature as your vertuous self, but I shall remove so unworthy an object from your fight, and crave license to depart; no replied the Quéen, you shall not, I have a few questions to aske you; my rude­ness most unparalled Lady shall be as obedient to reply, as your Grace shall be ready to demand, although I am unworthy to be the least of your creatures. The Quéen hearing him ex­press himself with so much humilitie and excellencie of spéech, the King forgetting that his Son was there, came suddenlie into the presence of the Quéen, and beholding his out-cast, started backe, the Quéen perceiving it, desired the King to yield her so great a favour as to stay to hear her aske his Son two or thrée questions, the King not using to deny the request of such persons, sate down, whilst the Quéen thus exprest her self to Innocentine: Was it you that took my Eagle from me, pray answer me without ceremonie: To which he vow­ing himself replied, Madam I did, and what token left you with me, or took from me? Madam, a lock of your hair, where is it replied the Quéen? next my heart, Madam, replyed Innocentine, and here it is; but what [...] leave me, said the Quéen? a lock of mine replied Innocentine (great Prince said the Quéen to the King) and here it is; but pray let your patience expect my further discourse with him come hither, said the Quéen, to vashful Innocentine, doe you know this pi­cture and this King? yes, Madam, and I hope your greatness knows these (shewing her the picture and the King which he had took from her) come saies the Quéen, give me the picture, and instead of the shadow, take the substance, I am resolved renowned King, not to depart, till I have made him possessor [Page]of all I have, admire it not; for it is nothing but truth. The King like a man transported, at first thought the Quéen to be possest of a frenzie, but after more serious debate, found all truth which shée had related, and presently sent for his two Sons, Philonzo and Cruentine, and commands their heads to be struck off, but Innocentine seconded with his incomparable Lady, perswaded his Father to save their lives, and banish them; which the King, though unwillingly consented to, af­ter which he imbraced his Son, and told him, in requital of his great abuses, he would settle his Kingdom upon him. The Quéen joyful to sée the King imbrace his Son, desired the King that hereafter he would please to own her as his obedient Daughter. So Innocentine and the Quéen were shortly after married and departed into their own Countrey of Ivyland.